17

Drinking_glass_bottom

Image: Shot of Fire, gcardinal, Norway

A while back, for Wicked Wednesday, I posted an excerpt from a work-in-progress, 3, and over the past few weeks I’ve continued to expand it, developing both the characters and the storyline.

I have to admit, I’m breaking pretty much every conceivable writing rule in the way I’m penning this thing – no outline whatsoever heading my list of sins – but I’m enjoying myself, so I’m trying not to panic about that too much!

Famous last words.

The following snippet isn’t exactly racy. Sorry. But I think it gives a nice introduction to David, the ‘asker of the rules’ from the first excerpt. And Maddy, the woman to whom they apply …

 

3 – EXCERPT 2

Just after ten, we finally get a lull and I shoot out to take a quick leak, stopping on my way back behind the bar to change up the music to something that doesn’t make me want to stick my elbow in my ear. Def Leppard’s Hysteria has just given way to The Charlatans when Luke comes over and taps me on the shoulder, the frown on his face my first clue something’s not right.

“Got a problem.” He turns and I follow the direction of his gaze to the opposite end of the counter. At first I don’t see what he’s looking at. But then …

Ah, shit.”

The pixie. She’s trying to get up off her stool, her co-ordination totally gone, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar so hard her knuckles have turned white. She’s drunk. As in really, really fucking drunk. Even more worryingly, though, it looks like she’s attracted the attention of a couple of regulars, Hector and Oscar – two city boys whose standard MO is to hit on women who’ve had too much to drink. I’ve never had any outright complaints laid against them so I can’t justify banning them to the owner, but I don’t trust those assholes at all.

Not one inch.

I turn to glare a Luke. “How many drinks you give her?” I growl, tossing the iPod in my hand onto the counter.

Luke puts his hands up defensively. “Hey, don’t look at me, man. I’ve only served her once all evening.”

And I haven’t poured her anything since the first two glasses of Jack. Continue reading

16

The Shingle Beach Photo courtesy of The Shingle Beach

Welcome to Elust #71

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #72? Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Backyard Glory
Bra Wars
Versions of Ourselves

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Disabled characters: who do I write them for?
How Can You Think About Sex Right Now?

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Three

Continue reading

25

120px-Pictograms-nps-golfing.svgSo, Oleander Plume threw out a challenge. She has this list, see. A list of story prompts.

An awesome list of story prompts.

Ones she dreamed up I don’t know the hell how – c.f. ‘blind date arrives dressed as a clown’, ‘hot sex in a rickshaw’ and ‘bar fight turns orgy’.

What would happen, she wondered, if she released them into the erotica/sex writer wild?

I couldn’t help myself.

I got a little (okay, a lot) seduced by the following starter. Don’t ask me why. Because what I know about golf could accurately be summarised as diddly-squat:

 

6. two golfers, a golf course and a horny caddy

 

If you own a set of clubs, look away now.

 

Teeing Off

“Balls.”

“I’m sorry?” Roger jerks his gaze up from the golf bag in front of him, a confused look on his face. Poor chap. He’s been fingering the heads of those clubs for over a minute now, trying to decide which one to use. A slim, svelte nine iron. A substantial six. A thick, meaty three.

“Balls,” I repeat with a smirk, leaning over to show him the two cupped in my palm. One’s traditional white, the other a hot, lurid pink.

“Um, I don’t mind.”

“Well, since you’re a golf virgin …” I press the white one into this hand, making sure my fingertips brush his palm. To my utter delight, he turns a bright, beetroot red.

Fuck but I love it when Charles brings his business meetings here.

The man in question strolls over, a wolfish grin on his face, and plucks the remaining ball from my fingers, giving me a salacious wink. “Now, now,” he tuts. “I hope you’re going to score us fairly.”

Slowly, deliberately, I let my eyes travel downwards over his body. Charles is in good shape for his age – broad chest, lean muscular arms – and, as ever, dressed to preppy perfection in a striped blue polo shirt and a pair of black cotton chinos. The latter are stretched tight over his crotch and under my scrutiny there’s a noticeable thickening, a decided growth, in the real estate between his legs that makes them fit even more snuggly.

“Oh, I’m going to score you, all right,” I murmur before turning back towards the hapless Roger.

“Use the three iron,” I instruct, closing my fingers over the head of the club and withdrawing the shaft from the golf bag. He stammers his thanks as I place the dimpled rubber handle into his hand and Charles chuckles softly, clapping him on the arm with a white-gloved paw.

“Let’s get this game started, eh?”

He bends over and places the pink ball on a tee, deliberately taking his time.

Cock tease. Continue reading

24

Skinny bitch

I have been in two minds as to whether to post this picture. Not because it’s revealing – it isn’t – but because I worry that people will actually take the title and image at face value.

But, fuck it. I need to say this.

Earlier in the week, I was at a friend’s house. And someone there, someone I’ve met maybe twice?, perhaps three times?, decided to comment on my weight/size. The not-so-subtle implication being that she thought I had an eating disorder. Now, in so far as it went, her questions weren’t delivered in a completely impolite way – I’ve definitely had worse (see below). But they still pissed me the hell off. Why?

Because I get shit like this ALL. THE. TIME.

I’m not sure why but, for whatever reason, people feel that it’s perfectly acceptable – that they’re perfectly justified, even – in making comments about my body shape. That it’s totally okay to tell me I must have an eating problem. To ask me directly about what I consume on a daily basis (as if I’m supposed to produce a food diary for their perusal). To make snide, derogatory comments about my frame. Because you can’t possibly offend a thin person, can you? Continue reading

22

Bra Wars

I have small boobs.

As in really, really small.

As in AA cup.

As in stick me topless next to a boy and look only at our torsos and you’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference between us. From waist to neck, I’m pretty androgynous.

I’m not ashamed of my smallness – although that hasn’t always been the case – and I’ve even called attention to my breasts (or lack thereof) in various photographs, such as this one. Bluntly, I’m comfortable in my own skin and I really couldn’t give two hoots if my body doesn’t conform to a standard or ideal. It’s mine and it does everything I want it to. (Well, mostly!)

That said, there’s one thing about having minuscule boobs that drives me absolutely nucking futs: finding a bra that actually fits and at least makes an attempt to acknowledge the concept of ‘sexy’.

Attention, lingerie designers and manufacturers! I may be shaped like a rake but I am not asexual. Nor am I twelve. Want to know what buying a bra is like for someone of modest proportions? Believe me when I say the level of difficulty is right up there with destroying the Death Star.

A long time ago (yesterday) in a lingerie shop (not so) far, far away …

Continue reading

16

exposing 40
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40

Welcome to Elust #70

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #71? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Exposed! My Mom Knows!

Flash Fiction: “A Taste”

I am a Sex Blogger & I Reject Pseudonymity

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

‘X’ is for X…
Give my guilt an erotic payoff? Tell me more.

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Dis-moi…

Continue reading

06

Bola_3_(8082763925)

Image: Bola 3, Juanedc from Zaragoza, España

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is ‘dating’ and, as such, I’ve chosen to post the beginning of a story that’s been percolating in my head for the past few weeks as I think it fits the brief rather well. The idea for this piece – which, at this stage, I’m simply calling 3 – sprang into being at around the thirty kilometre mark of my recent alpine trek with S – who then had the dubious privilege of listening to me work through and discard various plot scenarios aloud for the remaining thirty.

The perils of being friends with a smut-writer, eh?

EXCERPT – 3

The waitress carefully places our drinks in front of us – a beer for David, a finger of vodka for me – and drifts away to the sounds of our murmured ‘thank yous’. Both of us watch as she weaves her way past the other tables of softly chattering diners, making well and truly sure she’s out of earshot. As she disappears into the kitchen David turns to look at me, the intensity in his dark eyes belying his carefully impassive face. 

He picks up his beer and takes a long swallow. “Rules,” he says, finally, putting the bottle back down on the table and sucking a bead of moisture from his bottom lip. “What are they?”

I lean back in my chair and regard my own drink sitting untouched in front of me on the white tablecloth. My fingers fairly itch to pick up the glass and knock back the liquor but I know I don’t want even a single drop of alcohol to taint this decision. It’s too important.

Fuck. Am I really doing this?  Continue reading