With trembling hands, I write this out to the millions of faceless entities passing this post tonight.
So here I am on this cold December night: exploring. My passion is in writing, sure adult films and the endless cache of raunchy videos online give a temporary shot in the arm, but they don’t let you truly experience what it’s like to be in those erotic situations. My first foyer into all things sex came from the *softcore* genre, sneaking downstairs to catch a few minutes of the ‘late-nite’ channel while my parents slept… so, y’know, please lemme know too if there are any fellow ‘softies’ out there.
What I’m asking for I guess, is a door… an *entryway* into this new world of sexual pleasure and a way to safely explore my new fantasies before I actually begin to act on them in real life.Fuck, this is all so scary, but I can’t stop. What I want is simple: a talented artist, a *brilliant* writer who can put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard really) and bring to life these burgeoning fantasies in vivid detail so I can experience what porn leaves out, to enjoy what you miss on screen…. maybe give me the courage to play a couple of them out someday. That means well-detailed settings that don’t miss a single bit of color, brilliantly realized and larger-than-life characters that I lust after long after I shut my laptop… and stories that feel so authentic and real that they feel like they’re taking place in my own bedroom.
So there’s my simple plea, I’m asking for a writer male OR female, to take my hand and lead me into this new chapter by writing these fantasies for me, and realizing them into being with expert hands and tenured vocabulary. Send me a message, brag to me about these gifts, the more detailed & impressive the boast the better… and let’s walk together.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/kig324/is_the_art_of_written_erotica_dead
Your hands tremble once more as you click the notification – someone responded to your post. The anticipation builds as reddit ever so slowly loads, until you can read finally read it.
Rather than just wax lyrically about their abilities, they’ve responded by sending you a little slice of what they can do. As you read through their post your imagination runs riot. They’ve set the scene brilliantly, just the right about of detail to make it believable, with enough left to your own dirty thoughts so you can make it your own.
Your breath starts to quicken, your nipples harden, as you imagine the stories this person could weave for you if they just knew more about what you wanted. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but that potential is turning you on more than you could have dreamed.
And that’s where they end it, with you unsatisfied, wanting more.
Just they way they planned it you realise.
You find a comfy spot and lay back as you browse their profile, needing to see more of what they can do. You’re in for a good night it seems…..
Why not write it yourself? I get more turned on writing my stories than reading others, by far.
There’s always non-binary or gender nonconformist people. But I’ll give it a go. I’m much more of a poetry writer, but I’m drunk enough to give it a shot.
It was never anticipated. Perhaps mid-discussion or answer but the blood would rise to my cheeks all the same. I hoped the new zoom format would be enough to digitize me into privacy. It wasn’t necessarily my professor’s looks. Sure, he wasn’t hard on the eyes but that wasn’t what kept me up at night. This wasn’t a high school crush, it was more dangerous, deeper. Something that made my entire body flush with the desires and needs of a woman, not a needy school girl. Was I tempting fate by taking his class this semester?
It started harmlessly. We first crossed paths three years ago. I had joined a new club and was trying to catch a conversation before the meeting started. My yellow and black dress was a hold over from high school years and now served my anxiety as I rolled the fabric between two fingers. I looked at the room full of my peers and found more comfort in sitting next to what seemed to be the only professor. His posture was imperfect and he had a gentle shyness that put me at ease. I quickly slid into the leathery spot next to him, adjusting my dress on my thighs. Before I could fully start a conversation I was stunned by his intoxicating scent. I didn’t anticipate my immediate lust, I had never felt this need from a superior. I was always a teachers pet as a kid but I wasn’t one for crushes. My attraction to this professor was unanticipated. It nearly left me speechless and embarrassed, which was worsened by his light and friendly eyes reaching mine. I mustered a normal enough greeting.
“Hi!” Definitely the impression I wanted to make starting a writing club, I could feel the fuzzy rush in my clenched palms, tightening on my poor dress.
“Um, hi.” He offered me a smile. His voice was rather soft, but with an undertone that nearly gave me chills. In facing me his glasses revealed an overall sweet demeanor and I found my anxiety calmed. I used this in an attempted recovery.
“What brings you to the club meeting?” I quickly added, “I’m rather new and I’m trying to get an idea of how tonight is going to go.” My confession of ignorance seemed to give him a sense of direction.
“Oh, I’m the club advisor, Saul, I was asked to give a bit of an overview.” My eagerness then got the better of me.
“I’ve been to a few first meetings this week, I haven’t seen any advisors yet. It’s really nice of you to put in that level of commitment.” Mid-sentence I had realized I had gone too far into the territory of compliments. My cheeks had then reddened which worsened the delivery. I tried to smile nonchalantly and adjust my crossed legs. Saul seemed to take it in stride.
“I try to do what I can.” His eyes seemed to flicker to my cheeks, and I thought I could see amusement flicker through his eyebrows. Wishful thinking maybe. I was grateful for the murmur of conversation around me. The wall of voices helped insulate any intimacy between us. What better alibi? Yet looking at Saul felt like a transgression against the wall between student and teacher. As the conversation carried his easy wit only charmed me further. Laughter was brought easily to my lips, and my beating heart felt like a pendulum to which I balanced my responses. Despite our rocky start, we had a natural conversational chemistry.
It came time for him to go introduce the club with the officers. We were a bit distracted and he was notified he had fallen behind on time. A smirk snuck onto my lips when he was surprised to realize the starting time had passed. Maybe this wasn’t so one sided. As I caught a glimpse of him looking back at me from behind the podium, I wondered what my girlfriend would think.
Edit: paragraphs