Sitting on the couch, Brian sat in a barely-lit room. His auburn hair was looking messy, as he hadn’t cared to even comb it that day. He wore a pair of blue pajama pants with a gray tee as he clicked a remote, searching for a good movie to stream on his large flat screen. He had to search for a while as he’d seen many of the movies on the screen already. He sighed, and set down his remote for minute, feeling bored.
I don’t know when it first happened, but there was a time, back when I was a teenager, and I was only attracted to thinner women, as most young guys are. But at some point, I began to look at larger women with more appreciation for their appearance. I remember one such woman from my class when I was a junior. She was absolutely gorgeous, but was also a bit more curvy than the women I was normally into. I didn’t understand my attraction to her at the time, but she was probably one of my bigger crushes back then.
“The One Gold Slave” is a step above my expectations, and I was blown away by the world she had created. From the very first page, she had my attention. After the first chapter, I was enthralled by the story. Before I had realized it, I was almost half-way through the book. I believe there may have been a moment when I checked the page I was on, which was 168, and in what felt like minutes, I checked again, and found myself on page 244. There was no way I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sit down, at this moment, and give you all a thorough review. And for those of you who read my posts regularly, you know how thorough I like to be.
The skyline above the city was filled with colors of orange and pink, holding up the dark blue hues of the coming night. Street lights were already blinking on along the road of the gated community, creating yellow beams of light in Michael’s car as he drove by them. The scent of fast food french fries filled the Cadillac Coupe with a scent that teased his nostrils. He was very tempted to reach into the paper bag in the passenger seat, and snatch a few fries to snack on, but resisted the temptation. He’d be home in just a few moments, and then he could sit and enjoy his food.
I hope you’ll all excuse some of the brashness I’ll be using in this post, as I’ve become somewhat frustrated with the current standards of erotica-writing. Let me begin by saying there are TONS of great writers out there with some amazing work going out on a regular basis. With that said, when I first came out into the erotica genre, I was very happy with what I was finding. There was a website I got all my stories from(very small site, only a handful of stories compared to Literotica or LushStories), but every time I read a story, I was always bewitched by the situations contained within, and lost myself in the elegant stories that made me blush. It was because those stories were so well done, it inspired me to try and write a few myself, and aspire to the same quality.
Just fifteen minutes before five o’clock, and the beach was beginning to empty out. This was probably one of the best times to venture out into the sand, and enjoy the sun. Most of the tourists, or at least the ones who chose to come to this beach, were packing up and leaving to go have dinner. There was probably another hour or so before the sun was about to set, so it was best to find a spot soon. That was a bit difficult, because people at the good spots hadn’t left yet.
Now, in case you happen to be one of those curious anomalies that doesn’t know, allow me to explain what these kinks are. Voyeurism is the act of watching someone in the process of disrobing, or engaging in a sexual act. This can be further broken down by consensual voyeurism, where one person watches their partner masturbate, or they watch a live cam show. It can also include observing a couple having sex in a public space, like a night club, because there is an implied consent when you know you’re going to be seen. There is also non-consensual voyeurism, which generally involves the more shady acts, like up-skirt shots, hidden cameras, and cliched peepholes.
I know my posts have been a bit off lately, but I wanted to write something, rather than nothing. Over the last week and a half, I’ve hit a bit of a creative wall, as all writers do from time to time. I was previously up for a really long time, feeling the itch to sit down and write whatever I wanted to write about for the last few weeks. I suppose I was a fool to think that itch would last forever. Hopefully, this rut I’ve found myself in won’t last very long, and I’ll be back to writing more short stories, and articles, very soon.
I arrived at the Rosemary Psychiatric Institution, where I’ve been promised an interview with a patient who was admitted over two years ago, and whose mental condition remains unchanged. It’s my hope to learn more about the conditions of her admittance, as the media would only say it was of an ‘occult nature’. Those words were what first got my attention. I was a man with a dream of one day becoming a recognised paranormal investigator, but thus far, had only ever investigated frauds and wild goose chases. Ever since this case showed up on the news, I’ve been trying to find out more, thinking this could be my first real break.
Now, to get into specifics, it’s a style of BDSM that deals with sex in a manner that is much more animalistic than conventional sex, or what they refer to as ‘Primal Play’. It’s not just being a bit more rough with your partner that makes this animalistic, no, I mean this in a much more literal sense.
While I was working as a ghost writer, I had to write about subjects I’d never written before, so I had to spend a couple hours doing research on a subject, learning why some people were turned on by this particular kink, and how they got into it. They say you should write what you know, but that doesn’t mean your knowledge should be limited to just what you know right now.
Lacey had already been on the road all day. Her boyfriend was just transferred to a new marine base and finally found an apartment for them, so she had to make the trek to be with him. Her GPS had told her of a separate route that was a little longer, but had far less traffic, so she took it. It brought her through this old country road, seemingly empty, so she pushed on the gas a little harder to get through it faster. She rolled down her window and let the wind blow through her medium-length red hair.