Starting a story is difficult. In theory, it should be the easiest; just pick a spot along a timeline being woven in your head. The characters, do they meet in a bar? In their home? A sports game? On the road? Are they lovers, family, strangers. Should it be written in third person? First? Who?
Should one write as the male, describing the way the female seduces you? The way she bats her eyes, a sly smile giving you naughty ideas. The way she makes her way across the room to you, her hips methodically moving back and forth. The way she whispers into your ear, the way her warm breath makes your body tingle. The way leads you to the back of the establishment. The way her lips taste, their warmth, your tounges dancing between each other. The way she coos and chirps, leading you around in circles. The way her slender fingers slip into your pants, wrapping around your throbbing cock like a boa constrictor around its prey. The way her small pink nipples stand out on her pale skin in the dim light. The way they stiffen as you play with them, her giving complimentary whimpers. The way her hair feels between your fingers as she places your dick delicately into her moist mouth. The way her tongue tickles your head, her fingers softly pulling your balls. The way she is not concerned with being neat, letting saliva coat her chin and dribble onto her breasts. The way she makes your cock feel, deep within her mouth, as you shoot your seed into it. The way she spares none of it, making sure to swallow all of it before leaving. The way she treats you not like a partner; for it is much too one-sided.