Some Ramblings, Musings and a Story[M20F19][Premature][FWB][True Story]

I’m in a strange place in life right now. I’m 42 a workaholic and I get off more writing stories than I do with my wife.

I write…a lot. Most of which are worlds that I create for my Dungeons and Dragons group. Even though I work 45 hours a week, and drive 3 hours a day, all my free time is spent in my head. It’s not a horrible place. It’s a place where I contemplate the important things:

Who am I?
What am I doing?
What does my future look like?

I think everyone contemplates these things, and I think it helps to internalize and evaluate one’s self to put them in a better place. Being in certain environments, such as here provides that feeling of accomplishment. I started writing erotica for myself, just to see what it was like and if I could even do it; not only on the creative side of things but also on the visualization side of things.

Sure, I could throw on some creampie compilations, or close-ups of contracting pussies; both of which I do enjoy enough to whip my cock out and stroke until I cover myself in cum. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it is a forced perspective. One that belongs to someone else, whether it’s someone filming themselves or someone else doing it for them. It’s almost like, wham bam thank you ma’am….or sir, or whatever really. My favorite place, however, is just inside my head.

I have a love/hate relationship with Stephen King. He’s a masterful author with an unparalleled ability to paint a picture inside your head. While reading the words on his pages, you are sucked in, as if you’re experiencing his story. I think that’s the great thing about horror stories in general. The well-done stories bring you into the story, and if the story talks about bugs, you lift your feet onto the couch, if it is about the main character being chased, you fear for their life. When a favorite character is killed off, you experience a sense of loss. Anyhow, I digress. The love/hate relationship with Stephen King is that, while his books are fantastic, they paint his picture, not yours. when I write horror, or as you may have seen, erotica, I present it from a certain point of view. While I go into detail about the people in my stories, I don’t go into that much detail about the “I” in my stories. This is mostly due to my wanting you to be able to incorporate your fantasies into mine and create an unwitting collaboration.
I could say, I’m six feet, 190lbs, and a fit, but not quite built look. I can describe my cock in vivid detail, from being just under 7 inches to the girth being from the tip of my middle finger to the knuckle of my thumb or that there are tiny stretch marks around the around my cock from when I was in my early 20’s using a penis pump (remember, damage done doesn’t always reverse itself), but I don’t because it’s your fantasy. I have a lot of readers with their equipment. I try to write it in a way that you are the one fucking, not me. Although, of course, it is me in my head.

When I sit down to write, I start out setting the scene. What do I want to do, be on stage at a music festival, get stuck in Georgia with a layover? Once that is established, I close my eyes. Knowing the location,

Who do I see?
Right now, it’s a woman that is about 5’3″, petite with B cups, her skin is pale, her areolas are difficult to see and the light overhead causes her nipples to cast a small downward shadow. Her raven hair is just past her shoulder and her eyes are light blue, almost gray. She has red, pouty lips and a button nose.

What do I smell?
She wears strawberry oil, and her hair smells like clove cigarettes. I can also smell the leather of the seats in the car we are driving in.

What do I hear?
The wheels hum quietly over the smooth asphalt. Every once in a while, when I try to catch a glimpse of her inner thighs, I hear the bumps in between the lanes letting me know that I’m wandering from where I should be.

What do I see?
Red lights from my dashboard. There’s a car about half a mile up from our position, and I can see the brake lights being tapped as the car swerves from side to side. I get the feeling that the driver is drunk. The other thing I notice is the lack of street lights, making this road feel a little creepy. The only things I can see are what the light cast from my car allows me to see.

To me, it’s not just writing a story. It is more like watching a movie and describing everything in detail, with 5d smell-o-vision with vibrating chairs. When something causes my pulse to quicken, I want you to have that same feeling. When I get turned on, I want you to as well. Whether it’s your cock growing harder, or your pussy throbbing and growing moist. The only thing that matters is that you’re being turned on.

It’s a similar experience when I’m running one of my game sessions. I need to create an entire world so my chaotic players can interact with anything imaginable. If they want to toss a gnome, I have to know what this gnome looks like, what class are they in, and so forth. If they toss this gnome, do they have feather fall? or does gravity pull them down like a sack of bricks?

Everything for me needs to be described, not in exact detail, but in a way where you, the reader can create your details and turns them into your experience. I’m painting the picture in a way where you can still see exactly what it is you want to see…or fantasize about. I think that’s why I sometimes prefer the Beautiful Agony videos, you just watch people’s faces through various states of pleasure until their eyes clinch, or their mouth hangs open with a vacant stare while they cum. Sometimes it’s the things left unseen that are a bigger turn-on.

I don’t know why I’m writing this exactly. Perhaps, I’ve lost my muse. You can write for yourself any time you want to, but when you know someone specific is going to read it, you tend to move a bit faster. You crank out stories faster than you imagine possible. Then, when that’s gone and you are writing for yourself, you can just have your fantasies, close your eyes and see whatever you want to see, jerk one off and go to sleep, or clean up, or whatever else you do after you cum.

I always want to write, but I don’t always know what to write. Hence, my ramblings. It’s strange though, I usually remain shrouded by anonymity, hell, most of the people in my DND sessions don’t even know my real name. Granted, you don’t either, but I am not normally this forthcoming with details about myself and it’s interesting feeling vulnerable like this. There’s enough detail here that if someone I knew read this, they could probably recognize who I am. I have rambled on and there’s still no story, and I still don’t know what story to write.

I could write about driving down a desolate road with limited cars in sight. I could write about how I had watched her adjust her feet and her legs widened, or how she looked at me with a nod and how I slid my hand down her shorts and began to feel her. How her skin was soft and bare, how moist she was as I caressed her pussy with my fingertip. How she was grinding herself against my hand…but I won’t. Hell, I won’t even write about how she unzipped my pants and drew my cock into her mouth. What I will do, however, is write about something that has happened to me.

I was in a competitive gaming league while I was in college. It was predominantly guys in their late teens and early twenty’s, but there were a few exceptions. One of these exceptions was, let’s just call her BalletFlats for the sake of hiding people’s identities. Now, there was a rule in the group, and that was “no flirting with the girls.” It made sense, it’s already bad enough that they’re gaming in a total sausage party, so we weren’t supposed to make things any harder on them. Not only that but a hundred or so basement gamers in their late teens and early twenties with raging hormones in a volatile environment. Worse still, we were competitive gamers, and competition in damn near everything was in our blood.

Anyway, I was about 20 to 22 years old around this time and BalletFlats was 19-20. We had gamer profiles up, so we knew what we all looked like. She had blue eyes and long strawberry-blonde hair. I don’t recall who initiated it, but we had a lot of conversations on the side and they were, for the most part, innocent flirting. We never got into an online relationship, we were just friends and that’s what I believe was all we were ever going to be. We were calling each other by our given names rather than gamer tags. So let’s just call her Jaime for the sake of this story. After maybe a year of talking, the idea of her flying to the state came up. She couldn’t afford it, so jokingly I offered to pay for her flight. Surprisingly, she accepted and we planned the trip details on the spot. A couple of weeks passed until the university she attended went on break. I picked her up in my car from the airport and drove back. It was fun, no sexual tension to get in the way of things. I drove her around showing her the various landmarks. The whole trip was pretty innocent, that is, until…

She had an early flight and since it took a couple of hours to drive from my house to the airport, we thought it would be best to grab a hotel. The place that was booked was one of those hotels on the same street as the airport. I wasn’t trying to impress her, after all, we were just friends. We did, however, book a room that had a Jacuzzi. What better way to relax, and prepare for a flight, right? Since it was just an overnight trip for me, I didn’t have a whole lot that I had brought and everything fit into a backpack, we did bring her luggage up to the room. It had a single bed, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. We had shared a bed this entire trip, and of course to the left was the jacuzzi and a shower, right there in the room. I can honestly say that up until this point, I had never seen a shower in the actual room itself and I hadn’t ever been in a room that even had a jacuzzi.

I had the bright idea of picking up some Mr. Bubble to use in the jacuzzi. Let me start off by saying, jets of water and bubble bath should NEVER be used together. The bubbles had grown so out of control that they had poured over the sides of the jacuzzi onto the carpet of the room. After cleaning it up the best we could, we took turns changing in the bathroom. I had my swim trunks, while she had a bikini. I don’t remember what color her bathing suit was, but I do remember the shape of her hips. We each got into the tub and talked until the water became cold (we couldn’t have the jets running unless we drained the tub and started over, but dammit, we wanted bubbles. We finally got out of the tub, dried ourselves off, and changed into pajamas. Everything up to this point was done as friends, and nothing more than that…or at least, so I thought.

We had actually fallen asleep, but at some point, her foot bumped up against my leg and started rubbing over my lower leg. I turned my head toward her and she was just looking at me. Nothing like this had happened the entire trip, then, I don’t remember who did it, but we began holding hands, this led to kissing, and that led to the proposition of sex.
The thought of condoms never entered my mind as, well…as far as I knew, we weren’t going to be needing them. Clothes were thrown aside and we started things off with a 69. She shaved her pussy bare and I still remember her taste and the smell of the bubble bath still emanating from our skin. We didn’t 69 for long, because sex was the goal. It is worth also noting, that I didn’t have a whole lot of experience at this point, I had only had sex with one other person, so I was far from being an expert. She laid on her back with her legs spread and bent at the knee, I made my approach, slid the tip of my cock over her pussy, pushed myself in slowly and deeply, and then immediately pulled out. I came all over her pussy and stomach. I was embarrassed, no…mortified. This wasn’t even a two-pump chump scenario. I thought that this was the end of my world. She smiled and comforted me, letting me know it was alright and that it happens. Then she reached down and started stroking my cock again.

It’s amazing how quickly you recover at that age. I mean, I can still go multiple rounds without an issue, but I need maybe a couple of minutes before I’m ready to go, and my recovery is usually spent kissing, licking, or eating out. Not this time, I was immediately ready to go again. She brought herself over me, taking my cock in hand pushed my cock into her sitting all the way down to the base. She then started rising and falling down around my cock, fucking my length. Her blue eyes looked into mine as she watched my expressions of pleasure. I pushed my hips into her, fucking her back, actually having more stamina this time around. It was almost better than had I cum so quickly the first because I was holding my own now. She positioned herself onto her feet and continued to squat over me, giving the full view of my pussy rising and falling over my cock, her wetness gathering at my based.

The lifted herself off and positioned herself onto her back, with legs spread and bare pussy exposed. I brought my lips to hers and began to lick her.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, pulling me up to her.

She took my cock in hand and pushed it back into her as I laid across her. the skin of our chests pressed into one another, as my pelvis raised and dropped, pushing my cock into her. Guys have this feeling sometimes, that you are so turned on and want to cum, but you just can’t seem to get yourself over the edge. Don’t get me wrong, it feels great, so it’s not a bad thing. It just takes a little more to push us over the edge. This was one of those instances, I wanted to cum so badly, and I fucked her like a rabbit to do so, but at the same time, I didn’t want this to finish. I began to feel myself reach that edge and pushed into Jaime and held myself there, not knowing if I wanted to cum now or not. It took four simple words to push me over the edge.

“I’m on birth control.”

It’s funny how something so scientific can be as sexy as “cum inside me.” Even though those specific words weren’t said, it was implied. I came inside her and we melted into each other. Jaime’s fingers traced over my back and we fell asleep in each other’s embrace, cock still held in place.

At some point during the night, my cock had stiffened and when we awoke, there were visible cum spots on the sheets as well as on her legs where my cum had leaked from her and dried onto her in glossy, flaky streaks. We showered together, got dressed and she flew back home.

It’s strange how something that happened to you even 20 years ago can be remembered in vivid detail and I haven’t been turned on by this in quite a while. We had one more encounter that I may or may not write about if I am having difficulty coming up with a story. Who knows for sure.

I know this isn’t the typical read in EroticLiterature, and honestly, I’m not even sure if this will strike anyone’s fancy. If it does, let me know and I’ll ramble on again in the future.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ym41to/some_ramblings_musings_and_a