I often get asked if writing turns me on, or how often/whether I wank when I’m composing something. The answer is ‘sometimes’ – honestly, most of the time, if it’s a story I’m retelling that involves an especially hot real-life fuck or a fantasy I’ve nurtured for a while. But this week’s guest blogger has a far more vivid and delicious answer to that question. Please welcome RalpH_himself (who you can find here on Mastodon or Fetlife) who’s here to show you what the sweet agony of writing erotica is like…
The sweet agony of writing erotica
There’s this idea that I’ve had stuck in my mind for a few days already. Not a plan, just an idea. Like one action, sentence, or position.
A couple is walking through the woods at night, they start fucking on a bench.
So in the evening, when the dishes are done, I grab my laptop and chill on the bed. To make myself comfy for a long writing session, and get in the frisky mood that I need to come up with some interesting action, I’m wearing only boxers and a t-shirt.
The first thing to do is come up with a rough plot that surrounds the initial idea, turns it into a full erotica with a (bit of) back story and an arc of suspense. From the initial teasing over how the story acts out to the climax (which doesn’t necessarily need to be orgasms). Did I introduce characters in my previous stories that are suitable for this experience, or do I need to create and introduce new ones? Or is it simply a first-person perspective?
Skinny-dipping at midnight
Making out and wet humping in the water
A randy walk home
Start fucking on the first bench
Then, I start to expand every keyword to a few paragraphs, starting by describing the surroundings to set the mood.
It’s almost midnight, but the heat is still searing. To cool down, we decide to have a late-night stroll through the nearby woods to go for a skinny dip in the small lake on the other side of it.
At the beach, there are a few people still sitting around their campfires, chatting and enjoying the lovely summer night. But since it’s a moonless night, they cannot see us stripping down some 30 m away from them. We slowly wade into the refreshingly cool water.
Next, we need some foreplay. I think of how the two protagonists get heated up. How do they touch each other? Where are their hands while they kiss? How does it feel to explore each other’s bodies? I think of things that turn me on, how a lovely make-out scene feels.
I stop when the water reaches my neck. Since you are almost a foot smaller than me, you’re already swimming, grabbing my arm and pulling yourself closer to me. I feel how you wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my shoulders, your body pressing against mine, displacing the cool water with your heat. Our lips meet in the middle of this ocean of blackness, with the dancing light of the campfires painting a dimly lit backdrop at the beach. My dick is getting hard.
My dick is getting hard.
You start grinding your belly against my erection. My hands on your sexy butt move you up and down, every motion translates to a stroke on my dick.
My laptop is sitting on my erection. Every stroke on my keyboard translates to a stroke on my dick. I smirk, but continue to write, a bit slower though, as I spend more and more time thinking of the reality that I’m constructing in my mind. I need to re-read what I’ve already written to know where to continue.
Thanks to the weightlessness of the water, you effortlessly push yourself a bit higher, so my hard cock is now under your crotch. As you slide down again, I feel your soft pussy lips on the head of my dick.
The distraction got too bad now. I get up from the bed and sit at my desk, hoping that it will boost my focus. There’s only one problem that I haven’t considered yet: the laptop isn’t blocking my crotch anymore. But I keep writing – for now.
The water is getting a bit chilly, so we leave the lake. We only put on our flip-flops, my shorts and your light summer dress; the remaining clothes go in my bag. We start walking home, but we cannot keep our hands off of us. After barely a minute, we pass a bench.
When did my hand move to my crotch? It’s grabbing and fondling my erection through the stretchy fabric of my boxers. It’s a good sign that my own story turns me on so much.
I pull my shorts down and sit on the bench. You crouch between my legs and immediately start sucking my still-hard dick. Instinctively I grab your hair to dictate the rhythm, despite this being quite futile, you’re just as aroused and are eagerly matching my speed. One hand is around my cock to support the effort of your mouth, the other one must be between your legs as you usually do while sucking dick.
You stand up, turn your back towards me, and lower yourself down onto my lap.
Oh dear, this is so hot. My hand has pushed the waistband down and is now directly stroking my hard cock. I grab the lube that sits conveniently next to the screen. My hand slides over my shaft, it feels warm and wet as if…
My cock is sliding into your juicy pussy. You only had to lift the back of your skirt, and reach between your legs to guide me to your entrance. After the refreshing coolness of the lake, I’m overwhelmed by the warmth of your cunt, which must be at least as wet as the lake. I grab your butt to support your movements that bring both of us so much joy. I hope that we are far enough from the people at the beach, as we are both moaning in our united bliss.
With my eyes closed, my hand is tightly gripping my shaft as it moves up and down, while I feel your pussy bringing me ever closer to my release. You’re begging me to cum, to just give in to my desires. You want to feel how my dick throbs, just as my hands feel it, as my load shoots out of my erection, deep into your lovely pussy.
My eyes still closed, I’m slouching in my chair for a minute or two, catching my breath, wallowing in the slowly fading euphoria. The story may be only half-finished on the screen, but it’s now complete in my head. Unfortunately, I’ll have to open my eyes eventually, thereby leaving it behind. I try to remember as much as possible to bake it into my writing.
I open my eyes to face the reality of the mess in my hands and crotch. I get up to fetch a towel, clean up and wash my hands. Then I sit down again to finish my story, while the memories are still fresh.
You’re begging me to cum, to just give in to my desires. From my shivering and trembling, you know that I must be really close. You slow down to tease me a bit more, knowing well that this is still enough to bring me over the edge. I press you down one last time to bury myself as deeply as possible inside you. My cum shoots deep into your hungry cunt, which you’ve been holding out so eagerly for my satisfaction.
I scroll to the top and start proofreading. I’m glad that this can be done with one hand, since I notice that I’m getting hard again.