Category Archives: Filthy ones
Erotic fiction: the woman behind the porn cinema
This is a fantasy about a porn cinema that I wrote ages ago, for reasons I can’t remember. I like things that are simultaneously sexy and grotesque – like the blow job/dripping sandwich fantasy. That’s my way of saying the following story might be weird. And maybe disturbing. And creepily voyeuristic. Alternatively it might not be, and the fact I’ve waited six months to publish it has been a complete waste of my mental energy.
If you asked me to write my own future, I would write the following story. Then you’d wish you’d never asked, and I’d have to burn it, and we probably wouldn’t be friends any more because the whole thing would get awkward.
Anyway. Some erotic fiction. Or a disturbing vision of my distant future. Don’t judge me. Let’s go.
Your dick. My mouth. Now.
How did I chat people up before? When I was single, and I had to put some effort in beyond just saying “Your dick. My mouth. Now”?
I think I probably started with a hint: a story about this one time at college, leading to a detailed breakdown of who did what. But where there were strangers, now there’s one guy. Where there were hints, now there’s directness:
“Your dick. My mouth. Now.”
A dirty poem, because why not?
I’m still catching up on work, blog and life after Eroticon, so to tide you over with something fun I’ll give you a quick and dirty poem. I wrote this in part during Ashley Lister’s workshop, then tweaked it slightly on the train back.
It’s rough. But so am I.
Riding crops: tally fucking ho
WHY HAVE I NEVER WRITTEN ABOUT RIDING CROPS?! I need to rectify this immediately, because riding crops are not only super-hot, but they also represent one of my earliest sexual memories. And by that I mean there was one time I spotted a riding crop on TV and couldn’t understand why I got all the funny feelings.
Being used: the other side of the story
“Let’s get some dick in you.”
There are two ways I can tell this story. If you’ve not read the sexy version then pop over and read that before you look at this one – I suspect it won’t have quite the same effect if you read them the other way around. I’ve been wanting to do this ‘two versions’ thing for a while, because it’s as honest an answer as I can find to a very frequently asked question: is what you write true?
It is. But storytelling, like sex, is often about the angle.