Okay, I’ve recently gotten addicted to erotic writing from the e-book community of erotic/romance writers.  I wrote about this a few weeks ago. 

Now, I am drawn to women writers, more than male writers.  I have had my fill of bad male erotic writers during my formative years.  Most of whom are living fantasies they will never achieve, or are writing for wish fulfillment.  However, these women writers can be just as bad, falling into the same tired old clichés over and over.

(Please note, both you and I would be fools if we thought that all e-published writers that sport female ‘nom de plumes’ are actually female… but I do believe that there are a greater percentage of real women out there.)

And please remember, all of the following advice comes from an over-opinionated bitch who likes to write a lot.  It means only as much as you want it to.

• Employment:  Does every guy out there have to have an exciting job?  I mean I read these stories and it’s all the same: Cowboy, Firefighter, Baron, Duke, Football Star, Spy, International Financier, Private Detective…  It’s getting so that Doctor and Lawyer would actually be a refreshing change.  Can’t we have attractive Bartenders, Teachers, Accountants, Drummers in a local Rock Band, Architects, or Mayor Assistants? 
• Class Structure: Not everyone is incredibly wealthy.  I still read all of these novels where the characters fly all over the place in private jets, and stay at private resorts, or are looking to buy 300 acres of farmland.  Not that you need to write about the poor, but have characters of all classes.  What’s wrong with a sexy farmhand who doesn’t have a dine.  Why not have a middle-class business man who only gets one weekend a year in the mountains?
• Finances:  How about the women have some money?  It’s 2011.  Do we still have to have erotic stories where the man comes and saves the day financially?  “I can only save my daddy’s farm if I agree to have sex with Oil Tycoon Billy-Joe.”  I mean, I get the relief of having someone with the financial power to remove all of your cares, but it’s too much.
• Ménage:  Now I find ménages (in erotic/romance stories, ménages are almost always MMF) very VERY hot.  But you see, I’ve actually talked to guys about sex.  Most guys I’ve asked are very unsure if they would go through with a MMF encounter.  The idea of even accidentally touching another man’s cock sends them into homophobic convulsions. Plus, guys are VERY competitive. so to suddenly have two rivals or enemies drop trou with the same girl at the same time can be a little unrealistic. So, work that part into the story, and don’t just throw it in there.
• DP: Many ménage stories include a double-penetration scene, where one guy’s cock is in the girl’s vagina and the other guy’s cock is in the girl’s anus.  For the girl’s side, I covered anal sex already in this blog.  So, let’s talk about the guys.  The idea that two straight guys are going to let their bodies touch and let their cocks bump against each other inside a woman can really be pushing it. Let me give an example of someone who goes bold with this.  I read a book recently by Jayne Rylon called Kate’s Crew.  Kate has an encounter with five guys, but most of them are bisexual.  The scene with all of them is so very hot, and makes more sense.  Now, you don’t need to put gay guys into your sex scenes, but it was a very good solution! 

  Once again, it’s just not something you should throw into the book.

• Dirty talk: I’m not against dirty talk between partners. I’ve had great sex where my partner has called me everything in the book.  But, I don’t think most girls want it the first time they’re having sex with someone. If I’ve thrown my inhibitions aside to have sex with some guy, when part of me thinks I shouldn’t, I don’t want to hear what a slut I am and how badly I want a cock.  To me, that is not hot.This is hot: If my boyfriend, who is taking me away for a romantic weekend, calls me up on my cell phone, asking me if I’ve been thinking about his cock all day.  And then, when I admit to him that I have, he tells me what a bad little slut I am.  YUM!
• Sex talk: I read stories where a woman overhears a guy talking about her.  Like a man talking to his wife about how badly he wants to fuck the new babysitter.  And then, in these stories, the girl gets wet hearing it. 
  Okay, all of the girls are described as being more attractive than me, and I know that I heard guys say this about me from the time I was 14.  And even when it was someone I thought was cute, it never made me ‘wet’.Not once!

  “Oh wow, Billy Jenkins wants to relieve his horny nature with my body. I’m so flattered, I’m going to start rubbing myself immediately, and maybe he’ll realize that I want it too!!!”

  This is lazy.  That can be a log on the girl’s erogenous fire, but it never should be the one that sets it ablaze.

• Topless:  The topless pool scene.  Okay, you all know the one.  Two women are hanging out by the pool (or a private beach, or a sauna), and one woman convinces the other one to take her top off, “After all, we’re both women, right?”Okay, if anyone I knew EVER used that line… First off, I would know exactly what her intentions are.  And second, I’d be insulted that she thought I was that dumb. I mean, this was cliche before I knew what the word cliché meant. In 2011, it’s a lazy device used by writers who can’t think of an interesting way to get the two characters together.
• Shaving: While we’re on the subject, let’s remove another myth/lazy device. I’ve never had a conversation with someone else regarding the shaving of my pubic region, unless we were already lovers.  Never has a non-sexual friend come up to me and say, “You should shave your pussy hair, it makes it feel soooooo good during sex.”If someone said that to me, I’d be running away from them very quickly, as that statement would creep me out. 

  I had that conversation with one other girl.  We were both 15 at the time.  She asked me if I ever heard of other girls shaving that area bare.  I told her that I heard about it.  She said, “Ouch, that would hurt I think.”  End of conversation. 

• Cock Hunger: This is a tough one, because sometimes it is hard to describe female desire as easily as male desire.  Men want to slide their cocks into or between something: The wetness of a mouth, the curviness of boobs, the squeezing wetness of the vagina, the smoothness and unfamiliarity of another person’s hand, the extreme tightness of an anus. 
  From my experience, women want attention.  Sometimes we’re not sure where we want it.  Sometimes when a cock is inside me, my brain goes, “Oh yeah… that’s what I wanted…” and other times it’s, “Okay, that’s nice, and that will be nicer in a little bit.”But I read too many stories, supposedly from women, where they see a cock, are thinking about a cock, can’t wait for a cock, caught a glimpse of it and can’t stop thinking about it. 

  Some of this is fine.  But too much of it, really makes me think that the author has a really REALLY low opinion of women.  Or these guys are thinking that all women are like men.  I know plenty of men who saw a pair of breasts, and won’t rest until they see them again.

  So, let’s cut the cock worship down to a small prayer once in a while, and not, “There were five cocks in front of me, my desire for all of them made my mouth water.”

• Twilight Twits: You know Twilight would have been better if it had full fledged erotic sex scenes, but I guess Stephanie Meyer’s Mormon upbringing wouldn’t allow that.  But she created the ultimate wish fulfillment story: an emo girl who is incredibly clumsy but every guy in town thinks she’s gorgeous, and yet she has a very low opinion of herself.  She meets a brooding sparkling vampire who is willing to abstain from taking her (both as a vampire and as a man), is totally devoted to loving her. And so, there are plenty of knock-off erotic romances that take it in that direction.  Just remember people, there’s a difference between fiction and fan fiction.  Write your own characters and your own worlds.  Don’t just ride piggyback on someone else’s universe.  Break the molds, and create something new. 
• Zombies: We have novels of vampire sex, werewolf sex, faerie sex, elf sex, alien sex, centaur sex, but where are the Zombies, huh.  Zombie Girls Need Love TOO! 

Luna Zax

(God, I hope everyone knows the Zombie thing is a joke)

This story did just that, unfolded before me.  This was meant to be a quick story, but it turned into something bigger.  And I’m not really sure what this is at the moment, or how big it can be, or what the destination is. 

This was intended to be an erotic story.  And part of me still intends on that.  But I am letting the story determine that.  If you’ve written a story, I think you understand that statement.  If you haven’t, then you’re just going to have to trust me.  It’s like going to a restaurant, planning on having chicken, but catching your eye on a menu item that was unexpected, and suddenly you’re having somethign completely different. 

So let me reiterate: THERE IS NO SEX IN THE FOLLOWING STORY. 

And: THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SEX IN FUTURE CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY.

That being said, please enjoy the following:

Luna Zax (05/02/2011)

The Grove part 1
by Luna Zax
Story Codes (no sex)

I parked the car on the street by the creek.  I noticed the basketball hoop without a net, and the cracked pavement.  I noticed the graffiti on the rocks that entered the woods.  I noticed some leftover wood from the demolished bridge that used to go over the small creek. 

But most of all, I noticed how much smaller everything was: the woods, the rocks, the creek.  I had visited the old woods since becoming the height I am today, but perhaps, even then, I saw it through the eyes of a young girl instead of a woman.

I got out of my car and pulled my windbreaker around me.  The sun was shining, but there was a definite chill from the wind in the air, and the smell of fresh dirt filled my nostrils.

I looked around, as the spectre of guilt hung on my shoulders.  I was doing nothing wrong, yet I was nervous, scared even that I would be found out… despite my assurances that no one else could see anything. 

I opened my trunk and changing my flats for sneakers, due to the muddy terrain.  I gave one last look up and down the street before entering the woods. 

I walked carefully through the woods.  My memory of the woods and the reality of the actual terrain crashed in my heads as I walked along through the ground cover.  I questioned the looks of the rocks, thinking that they weren’t there before.  It was still early spring, so the leaves did not obscure the sunlight, and I was able to determine where I was based on the glimpses of the houses I could see on the edge of the woods.  I knew I was heading in the right direction, but unsure if I could find my way.

Then I found the tree. 

I saw it to my left, and said to myself, “That’s not the tree.  It was further into the woods, and not that close to the stream.”  But as I approached, I saw the familiar hole in the tree.  It nearly caught my breath to see it.  The tree was in good shape, but had weathered greatly.  But I still found the familiar carvings into the bark that I remember from childhood.  My mark of RB, and the familiar markings of AZ, NA, and CM.  I laughed as my fingers found the carvings of the names of rock bands that Artie had liked so well.

Feeling the illusion of youth, I climbed the rock that stood close to the tree.  I remembered the day that I was able to climb up ontop of the five foot tall rock.  I scraped my knees that day, and came home soaking wet from a fall in the creek, but I wore my battle scars proudly remembering my accomplishments of the day.  The handholds were the same, tho my hands were different.  I sat down on the top of the rock, letting the cold of the stone enter my flesh through my jeans.

I closed my eyes and I listened.  A few crickets were chirping and buzzing around me.  The cries of the birds in the woods echoed through the trees.  I heard the rustling of squirrels and other small animals moving through the underbrush.  I listened to the trickle of the water as it flowed through the creek.

I opened my eyes.  “Cross the creek… Climb the hill…  Turn right at the skunk cabbage swamp…  follow the path…”

I jumped off the rock, as a young girl and landed onto my older ankles, disrupting my illusion for a moment. 

“Careful girl,” I scolded myself audibly as I walked past the rock and found the low point in the creek where the two flat rocks remained the perfect way to cross the creek.  My grandfather had always called it the “crick”, telling me that if you can’t drown in it, you can’t call it a creek.  I climbed the hill afterwards, which was only a slight incline of three feet or so, but always was ‘the hill’.  My legs were tired, having not gone hiking in years. 

I easily found the skunk cabbage, surprised at the scarcity of the plant.  I remembered a field of skunk cabbage that Richie used to hit with a stick and we’d all run away from the sulfur-like stench.  A stick on the ground calls to me to relive the memory in place of Richie who was not with me to do it, but the adult in me resists.  I was being childish enough. 

I wandered further, and stared at an overgrown field of tall grasses covering the path we used to take.  As I looked forward I could not see the path and the way to my destination looked overgrown with thorns and weeds.  I looked through the woods trying to get my bearing, and saw a red building that was falling down and in disrepair. 

The Old Barn! 

Feelings of surprise and excitement filled me, remembering my grandfather’s old barn.  The newer barn was built before I was born, was larger, and closer to the house.  But, Grandfather never tore down the old one, saying that he was going to when he needed the land.  The new barn was torn down along with grandfather’s house when the land was parcelled out to make 10 separate properties after his death. But in the ultimate irony, they didn’t demolish the old barn.  It was built on protected land for the county, and it would take a court ruling to demolish it.  So the developer left it, as is. 

I walked out towards the field near the barn, totally lost in yesterday.  I kicked my shoes off in the grass, feeling it between my toes.  I smelled early spring flowers and wet hay. 

Then I saw the rock.  The rock was an oblong angled rock that was about 8 feet wide and 3 1/2 feet tall at it’s greatest point.  I walked towards it and placed my hand on the surface feeling the chill.  The rock was our ‘secret entrance’ into the hideout, the small grove of willow trees where we felt safest.  I climbed over the rock, almost looking for the ‘clay’ pottery that we would dry on the rock in the summertime. 

I walked closer, and ducked to avoid the brush and low hanging branches.  I finally found the trees.    Three willow trees.  In our youth, we never learned whether the yellow vined trees were actually willow trees or not, but someone had told us they were, and we never questioned it. I amazed that my fellow humans had destroyed so many places to build megamalls and housing developments, that this simple place of three willow trees still stood.   I ducked under the vines of the trees and touched the trunk very carefully. 

There were no signs that anyone had been here in ages.  I could see from the other direction that the woods were basically inaccessible from the grove, due to erosion from the creek.  The connections that were so obvious to us were no more.  I sighed and closed my eyes as the cool breeze blew around me. 

I was tired.  I hadn’t climbed rocks and climbed muddy hills in years. 

With my eyes closed, I could smell something.  A smell so familiar, but was lost completely to memory.  A smell of wet chestnuts, horse hair, wheat fields, and pond water, if I had to describe it.  I opened my eyes, and she was there.

Her curly chestnut brown/red hair fell off of her head, but did not seem to end.  Her skin was the color of freshly cut apples.  Her eyes a greet that changed to blue if you shifted your head.  She wore a dress that covered her body that was the color of grey bark, and it covered her completely yet barely at the same time.

“Hello…” I said, but it became a whisper as it came out of my mouth.

“Rebecca…” came the response.  It wasn’t a question, but she was requesting confirmation.  I nodded. 

“How are you, Chay-sayich?”

She nodded as well, indicating that things were fine.  I had practiced our conversation in my mind so many times, but now that I was in the moment… I was at a complete loss.

She smiled and said, “Becca….”

I tried to smile, and tears fell down my face, “Chay!” 

I was openly weaping, and suddenly she was next to me holding onto me, saying my name over and over.  Each time saying my name was a different tone, reflecting different levels of concern and reassurance.

I finally got it together, and wiped the tears from my face

“Becca unhappy?” she asked

I nodded.  “Bad year.  My mother…. died”

I caught the words in my mouth, only for the unfamiliarity of the words.  My mother had “passed”, “passed away”, “gone to heaven”, “gone up to the angels”, “moved on”, and “it was her time.”  But I’m not sure she was ever “dead” until I said the words to Chay.

Chay cocked her head to the side, understanding, but still taking it in.

“And my boy… my mate left, because I was taking care of my mother’s affairs since she died.”

Chay looked very intently, “The daughter takes over for the mother, when the mother dies.  No?”

I nodded. 

“He did not know this?” she asked again. 

I smiled, “Knowing and seeing are not the same.”

Chay looked confused and just sat down next to me quietly.   Her nature was silence, and it could be very comforting at times. 

“You look well,” I said weakly. 

She looked at herself and smiled.  “The forest is clean.  The water flows from the melted snow in the creek.  The sky has been very blue, but is gray now.  The birds are very happy.  Oh!”

She stopped, looking at me with great intent.

“A new oak tree is beginning to grow close to the creek!”

I smiled back at her.  This was who she was. 

“Becca is happy again!” she said.

“Talking to you makes me happy,” I said back to her.

“How can talking make you happy?” she asked.

“Well… I haven’t heard your voice in a while.  Hearing it again makes me happy.”

“Oh…”, she replied before pausing a moment or two, “You have not been back.”

“No,” I replied.

“You did not come when the fields were covered,” she said.

“No,” I replied again.

Another pause.

“You did not come when the trees were destroyed,” she said a little angrier.

“No,” I replied again, feeling shame in my cheeks.

Another pause.

“You did not come when the creek flooded!” she said even angrier.

I wasn’t sure what she meant with this one, but again I replied:

“No.”

A long pause…

“Why are you here now?” she asked without a trace of anger.

“I don’t know,” I said very quietly.

She looked at me.  Her face unreadable.  And we sat in silence for several moments.

(I mean according to WordPress stats (which I’m not sure I totally believe), I get 100 hits a day to this blog, and I haven’t published an erotic story in over a year. )

Anyway, I digress.  This is about shaking things up when you are in a funk or have writers block.  We all have process, but sometimes it’s time to break the routine. 

So, one of my readers mentioned that I should finish the Four Wedding Stories series.  And she was right.  It is the one story that I ‘promised’ to do.  And you can’t call a series ‘Four Wedding Stories’ and only deliver on three of them. 

Normally, I think of the erotic stories in the car.  Why the car you ask?   Well, I can think about scenarios, talk through important dialog, and bounce ideas around in a free environment. 

(The second reason, is I can’t just use it as a masturbation fantasy, cause I’ll crash the car!)

Then I take the idea that I have fleshed out in the car, and start typing it on the computer.  My key thing is to get the characters and the scenario onto the cyber-paper.  Once I have enough of their personalities on the paper, and the boundaries of the situation in place, then it’s like physics… the story is set into motion.  Once the story is set in motion, then the writing is secondary.  The reactions already exist, and I just need to capture them.

For example, in Wedding Stories: The Bachelorette Party… One I had the protagonist, Kathy, pissed off and willing to confront Melanie; And I had Melanie who secretly had been in love with Kathy for years; The sex scene inside the front door of Melanie’s house was already created, I just had to type it.

This process hasn’t worked for me in a while.  I haven’t liked anything I’ve typed in quite some time.  Characters are too boring, I don’t buy the seduction, or the scenario doesn’t work.

So yesterday, I decided to take my new toy for a spin.  Well, I’ve had it for a little while, but it just felt right.

No, not a sex toy, not this time…  I got a new fountain pen for my birthday a few months ago.  Its metalic and pretty (Rasbperry shaft!) and feels cold in my hands. 

And yes, I’m speaking phallically, but I wouldn’t use the pen for fun.  Potential for mess is a high possibility. Perhaps a tease through my panties isn’t out of the question, but….

Used my fountain pen on my new Moleskine notebook with the creamy paper and my really nice green ink… a little watery, but I like it just the same.  And it just felt different.

Writing in ink makes you slow down.  The fountain pen makes you feel each mark on the paper.  The ink gives a different visual feel.  And the paper makes you take more care with your words. 

And I discovered the woman who was going to seduce the mother-of-the-bride.  And I LIKE her.  It makes more sense than ANYONE else at the party.

(And I know some people wanted Mother of the Bride/Bride action, but… no)

So, Luna’s advice for the day.  When you are in a funk, change your process.  If you type all the time, then grab a pen and paper.  If you only write in pen and paper, then go for stream of consciousness typing (full ejaculation of conscious thought all over a blank screen).

And maybe you’ll finally see the final chapter of the Four Wedding Stories saga, sooner than you think.

Cheers!

Luna

(BTW: I have a very good idea for an erotic novel. But I could never publish it with a company, as there would be some underage sexual encounters. Just heavy petting between girls… And all publishing companies follows the strict guidelines on that)

Okay, I’m curious of how my readers will respond to my latest poll. I’m basically asking what level of context do you like in an erotic story?

1. A story just like any other, but the characters have sex in explicit detail. The plot may revolve around romance, but not the sex itself. The closest story I have to this is one I haven’t finished, Weekend Friends. My favorite story like this is Me and Martha Jane. The only story that made me scream in pleasure and bawl my eyes out.

2. Stories that have full and rich characters, but almost all conflict (or at least conflict resolution) is through sex. In my stories, you can see this in Four Wedding Stories: The Bridesmaids. Outside of my stories, the best examples (from my link list) are from Coeur Minuit (author of Rosenjack) and the stories on Alice Bluegown’s Extinct Song website)

3. Interesting scenarios that simply ‘set up’ the sex to come. In these stories, the scenarios are obviously heading towards sex. For my stories you can see this in Luna and Her Niece and Four Wedding Stories: The Fitting. Outside of my stories, you can find this in Willow Pink’s Erotic Stories and in the stories from The World According to Woman site.

4. Diving immediately into sexual action with little non-sex setup. From the first paragraph or two, the characters know they are having sex. The story that I wrote like this is An Online Conversation.

I am very curious to know what people think and what they want. And please feel free to add comments, especially if you think I’ve missed a category.

And over the last 2-3 weeks, I’ve like purchased 12 of them.   I can be an impulsive buyer, especially when it comes to self-gratification.  Constantly looking for another thrill that will add another log on any internal lustful fires. 

I had avoided romance novels, because for me, the world of erotica/romance books is a two-sided coin. 

On one side of the coin are erotic books, which basically are male-driven fantasies written for guys who prefer words to pictures: poor representations of women, male dominated fantasies, and poorly written descriptions of female anatomy.

On the other side are romance novels, which are women-driven fantasies written for housewives: unrealistic men with unrealistic lives (usually private eyes, spys, or barons of Italian estates), chaste women, and little to no sexual description.

So, there are several new epub websites that specialize in erotic fiction.  And there are several new erotic genres, typically written by female writers:

• Erotic Romances: Female perspective romance novels that deliver the goods completely and frequently. 
• Crossover Erotica: Basically take any genre movie (vampire, werewolf, alien, ghost, fantasy, historic, cowboys, etc) and make the relationships sexual.  Basically, what would happen if Bella and Edward were fucking every other chapter.   
• Bondage/BDSM Erotica: Not surprising at all, but needs to be mentioned.  Typically the stories of either a woman’s self discovery into bondage, learning that she likes it. 

I looked at these stories, and I’m not surprised.  In 2011, if you are sexual then you have been exposed to porn movies, so the taboos and lack of knowledge surrounding sex are completely dropped.  You can write a romantic novel and at the same time describe how you want the feel of a guy’s cock in your mouth.

Now, I am not one for what I describe as crossover erotica.  I like vampires and even fantasy.  And I could see reading a novel where the story was really good, but then in the middle there was one amazing, mind-blowing, detailed fucking between the characters.  But to have a genre novel that only serves to deliver sex every other chapter is cheap, so why bother with the contrivance.

Bondage/BDSM just doesn’t do it for me.  Especially on the written page.  I KNOW that some women like this.  And I like it somewhat.  But when it’s written, and you have female characters who are begging to be someone’s slave, begging to be tied up, and craving pain…. well it just makes me feel icky and makes me dislike the author.  I think it works better in real life, when you can dictate the exact terms and how far you go.

So, that left the erotic romances… And I bought a few, thinking that if an editor approved it, that the novels must meet a certain level of quality.

FUCK ME was I wrong!

It is no different from the stuff I read online.  Totally male perspective account of how they want women to think.  Male dominated fantasies with completely unrealistic encounters.  Women who are really men just without a cock.  The same stuff I rail against in all of my Guide to Writing Erotic Fiction.  Mein Gott!

I won’t point out the works of bad fiction, because that’s not fair.  But I just paid money for crap that was no better than the free stuff on hundreds of sites on the internet.  Better sentence structure, fewer spelling mistakes, and a stock cover.

However…

There was one genre that was at least interesting. 

Menage: Basically novels in which the female character is interested in both men, and ends up having sex with both at the same time.  For my fantasies… but this is a definite turn on.  Because the reality is typically not as good as the fantasy.

In my experiences, a good threesome can only exist when each person is willing to ensure that BOTH of his/her partners are being aroused at all times.  And more typically, you just want to get with one, and the other is just there.  I had a threesome years ago (at my partner’s request), and it broke us up because he was jealous of how I enjoyed the girl we brought in.  (I ended up screaming at him, “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO FUCKING WANTED TO DO IT… NOT ME!!!!!”)

Let me give you a few of the ones I have found that are worth the money.   Whether you want to spend it, is up to you:

The Debutante’s Dilemma by Elyse Mady (found on the Carina Press website for $2.69): A menage short story/novella about a woman, Cecilia Hastings, and her two suitors in Victorian England.  Fancy clothes, high society, sexual payoff, and words that I can actually believe were written by a woman.  Very good.  Not long, and only one sexual scene, but it’s worth it.

The Royal Dilemna series by Robin Gideon.  In the first book, A Royal Dilemna (found on the Liquid Silver website for $4.50), Princess Tatiana is rescued by two gentlemen, Prince Dimitri and Count Klaus, who are very known in society as casanovas.  The two of them seduce her together and free her from her life of abuse.  Sooooo sexy.  Very feminine scenarios and yet very strong in erotic descriptions.

The sequel, Another Royal Dilmena (found on the Liquid Silver website for $5.50), Tatiana, Dimitri, and Klaus rescue Majedah from a harem and eventually invite her to join them.  This is extremely sexy and adds many more possibilities (tho not as many as the initial description suggests, unfortunately).  Be warned that there is a Male/Male scene in this book for those who are squeamish about these things.  Seemed a little thrown in, but was refreshing.  Loved both of these! 

I wish Robin would write more of this series.  I thought it was awesome!!!

I did also find three lesbian books/novellas that I liked a lot.

First, a more traditional female/female novel: Jessie’s Girl by Amber Scott (found on the Liquid Silver website for $5.95).  A very simple story of two girls who discover their lust for each other.  There is no new territory explored in this series, but it is VERY well written, and the emotions are very real.  I would have loved the sexual descriptions to be better, but the tension and love is top-notch!

Second, a reasonably well done roommate seduction: The Best Roommate by Samantha Whitney (found on the Smashwords website for $0.99).  A good account of two roommates who discover they like watching each other.  It’s a very cute scenario, and Samantha handles the main protagonist very well.  The sexual encounters are just a bit rushed, and this could have dragged out longer and been much better.  But it’s very cute, and good fun, and a scenario that many of us have wished would happen.

Third, a very sexy historical lesbian tale: Georgia’s English Rose by JT Harding found on the Smashwords website for $0.99).  Very well done seduction of two girls who find each other during World War 2.  Nice and slow.  A little too easy with modern morality in a historic setting, but the feeling of reality, love, and seduction between the two main characters s very VERY well done.  HIGHLY recommended for the money.

Okay, not sure if I just was slamming or if I gave good recommendations, but that’s my thoughts for the day.

Not sure if I want to take a next step from this or not.

Into the unknown,

Luna Zax

It’s been almost a year since I posted.  I hope people don’t think this is a dead blog.  Almost everyday, I check the stats on the site, and look to see how people are finding my stories… 

It’s amazing that Luna and Her Niece is still the story that gets the hits and seems to be the story that they are looking for.  Not that I mind, but I figure that my more recent stories are better. 

I am very unsure about what 2011 holds for updates to this blog.  I have severe writers block for all of my stories.  I have at least 5 stories that are in my head, but when I start to write them, it’s like pushing water uphill. 

I want to have the fire.  Part of me says to just put a story out there.  Get my toe back in the water.  Create a story like Luna and her Niece, that just has enough sizzle to get out there.  Maybe so…  I just want to write something that feels real and seems true and lives inside me. 

Anyway, thanks for reading, as always. 

Love,

Luna,

P.S. Happy Valentine’s Day

You can find the previous chapter below:

• The Necklace, Chapter 1

I usually write very long drawn-out realistic encounters between people. But even I get the desire to just write about crazy sex situations. The Necklace series is meant to fulfill that desire. The character descends into more and more sexual situations as the story goes on. Just engages in every sexual/perverted fantasy I can think of (at least those that please me)

Disclaimer: If stories of sexual activity make you all wiggy and weirded out, please don’t read the following. It is intended as pure fantasy.

The next day, Kristen was out in the back yard, trimming bushes with garden shears. This was one of her least favorite jobs in the world. Her Dad made her do it every spring, said it taught her to not rely on a man to do things for her. She hated yard work, and she had to trim the bushes and plan bulbs before she did anything else. She thought that it simply made her hate the outdoors even more. As it was a warm April day, she decided to wear a white tank top and tan shorts.

Her Mom had left for the day, and since she had left her car at school, she was pretty much trapped at the house. She hadn’t felt this way since she was much younger.

“Dirt looks good on you, K,” came a voice from behind her.

Kristen turned and looked at the gate to the front yard where the voice came from. “Tim!” she exclaimed and ran over to him.

She hadn’t seen Tim since last summer, when she, Tim and her best friend Lauren worked together at the Seafood Shack. Tim and Lauren started dating back when they were in high school, and had been inseparable since. They had been dating ever since Kristen met them. The two of them even went to the same college.

Tim was a decent looking guy, he was fairly tall but not towering, curly brown hair, a tanned face, high cheekbones, and on the skinny side. She always thought he looked like an indy-rocker.

Tim opened the gate and caught Kristen in a huge embrace. “How are you doing Kristen? College not working out for you, so you’ve gone into landscaping?”

“Ha ha ha,” she replied, “very funny, smart-ass. No, as I came home over break to help Mom out with some family stuff, my Dad decided to employ the cheap labor and have me pull weeds and clip bushes. “

“Nice, I have some work for you once you get done here.”

“Jerk!” she threw her dirty gloves at him as she turned around. “Why are you home?”

“Not much to talk about. Just came home for the weekend. I saw your Mom at the store, and she said you were home, so I decided to pay you a visit.”

“That’s cool. Is Lauren with you?”

“Naaaah, she’s busy with school work. You know how she is.”

Kristen remembered. Lauren was the type of girl who could not go out and have any fun when an exam or major project was coming up. During finals week, you wouldn’t even hear from her unless you were in her class. She didn’t eat lunch, she didn’t answer phone calls, she totally immersed herself in studying.

“That’s too bad. I miss you guys so much.”

“Well, I’m sure Lauren misses you too. She always talks about how much fun we all had last summer.”

“Well come on in. I have to finish up this yard work, but make yourself at home.”

“What are you doing, trimming the hedges?” asked Tim.

“Yeah, and then I have to plant these flower bulbs.”

“Here, how about this. I’ll trim the hedges. I do it all the time at my house, and you can plant the flowers.”

Kristen thought this was a pretty good idea. She handed the hedge clippers to Tim and started to pull out the small trowel she was going to use to dig holes for the plants. Digging holes for flower bulbs and planting annuals was better than trimming the hedge, she thought.

Kristen and Tim bantered back and forth. She was on her hands and knees facing Tim, digging out a deep root.

“You know what I like about your house, K?” he asked her.

“No, what?”

“The scenic view of the deep valley.”

Kristen stopped working and looked up at him, and said “What are you talking about. The only thing you can see is the back yard fence.”

He pointed at her chest, “That valley!” he said with a sly smile. Kristen looked down at her sweaty chest. Looking down the tank top, Tim had obviously gotten a nice view of her cleavage. She wasn’t showing off or anything, just the old work shirt fit loosely.

“PERV!” she shouted and threw dirt at his pant leg.

“Hey! I’m working as cheap labor here. I should get some perks. Anyway, I was just noticing your necklace.”

“I bet you were, jerk!” she looked indignant but really wasn’t. She grabbed Aunt Agnes’s necklace briefly rubbing it quickly.

He picked up some clippings and threw them back at Kristen. “

“Ack!” she exclaimed, and started throwing dirt and mulch into his face. He grabbed some pine needles and came running after Kristen, and forced them down the back of her shirt. He stood laughing at her as she ran away.

Then, Kristen came back running with the garden hose and squirted Tim right in the face.

“You Bitch!” he exclaimed in a jovial manner. But she kept squirting him. He raised his hands. “Okay! Truce! Truce!”

She laughed and put down the garden hose. The adrenaline of the ‘fight’ was flowing through her at that moment.

But just then, Tim quickly grabbed the garden hose, and started spraying Kristen. He pushed her down onto the wet dirt and started spraying her as she struggled to get away. Kristen was getting soaked. Both of them were laughing.

Then Kristen started throwing dirt, now mud onto Tim. The mud dripped down his legs and covered his t-shirt. He stripped it off.

“So you want to have a mud pie fight, huh?” said Tim.

Tim got down on the ground and started picking up large balls of mud. She tried to run, but he grabbed her leg and wrestled her to the ground. He dripped the soggy wet sticky mud down her back.

“Ewwwwwwwww. I didn’t get you that bad!!” Kristen exclaimed.

Tim laughed.

“Uck, now it’s getting in my pants” she said even more woeful, as she grabbed some mud and tried to put it down the back of Tim’s pants. He was too strong for her, and he pulled her onto him. As he started to send mud down the front of her tank top.

She felt the mud hit the back of her ass. The coldness trickled down. Kristen found the sensation to be pleasant, once she got used to it. And the muddiness dripped down onto her breasts was curious to the least. But she enjoyed the contact on her breasts of the substance. She noticed her aunt’s necklace was getting warmer against her skin.

“You are so bad.” she said. “Why would you want my boobs covered in mud?”

“Can’t be that bad,” said Tim with a smile, “Let’s see.”

“I don’t think so, you perv.”

“They’re still in your bra,” said Tim almost daring her. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah right. Muddy or not, I don’t think Lauren wants you checking out other girls boobs.”

“I’m not allowed to look at other girls? I don’t think she’s that strict.”

Kristen laughed, and the small voice in her head told her to be somewhat daring. She pulled her shirt down, allowing Tim the briefest view of her bra covered boobs.

“Sexay!!!” he exclaimed.

Kristen stood up and tried to brush herself off as best as she could.

“What a mess! I don’t think I can even get inside without dripping mud all over the floor.”

Tim picked up the hose, and said to her, “Come here.”

“No way,” she said laughing. “That’ll start us up again”

Tim unscrewed the hose attachment. “This’ll be nicer. I’ll take the nozzle off, and it won’t be as brutal.”

Kristen slowly made her way over to Tim. The water slowly flowed from the hose. He turned her around, and started washing the mud out of the back of her hair. The water was kindof cold, but enjoyable once Kristen got used to it. She felt the lapping of the water pour down her body.

Tim started to wash the back of her tank top. She felt the water pour all over her back and lower body. Without wanting to, she leaned back into Tim, who was very close to her right now. She felt his arms come around her chest and start pouring water on her shirt. The water was pouring onto her breasts. Kristen felt her nipples stiffen against her bra.

She was just about to say something, when Tim handed her the hose. “Here, get it off of me,” he asked.

She grabbed the hose, and washed the dirt off Tim’s chest. Tim chest was fairly muscular from his shoulders on down. He was lean, and had some light brown hair across his chest. She felt her hand touch the warmth of his chest as the water poured over it. She smiled up into his face and he returned it.

“Turn around” she said. He obliged.

Kristen started to wash his back off, noticing the muscles and tendons beneath his skin. The bareness of his back was a stark contrast to his contoured and hairy chest. It was like a blank pale canvas that flowed down to the waistband of his jeans. She had looked at his butt before, but somehow it seemed more appealing. He had a tight butt, but not that anyone would really notice, just that it was more lean than even his normal body.

She tried to push the dirty thoughts out of her mind. She was not one to focus on any sort of sexual thought, but it did seem that her mind wouldn’t get rid of the existing ideas.

She rinsed off the back of his legs, as best as she could.

“Seems good,” she said. “Do you want me to get you a towel?”

“Yeah, that’d be good. Did we get all of the mud off of you?”

She hesitated a moment, before saying, “Yes.”

He looked at her, “Come on… what is it?”

“It’s nothing. Seriously, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t give me that, K. Tell me.”

She didn’t want to say it, but suddenly it was blurting out of her mouth. “Mud dripped down the back of my shorts.”

Tim didn’t say anything. He grabbed the hose from her, turned her around, lifted up the back of her shirt and let the cool water flow down into her shorts.

The water didn’t cool things down at all. In fact, it ignited things. Her panties got more and more wet with the water. She gasped once at the cold of the water, and then kept on gasping.

She tried to focus. “Get a grip. It’s Lauren’s boyfriend. It’s just Tim,” she said to herself But her body was on fire. She tried to stop her legs from shuddering. The first time, she somehow forced it through the rest of her body like a shiver. The second time, it made her butt move up and down, almost aching for the hose.

“I don’t think we’re getting it all,” said Tim in a half whisper. She felt his fingers hook in the sides of her shorts and slowly pull them down. They hit the ground in a splat. There she stood in her pink panties. She bent over slightly as the water hit her underwear. The water now was splashing against her butt crack. She bent over more. And she felt the cold water hit her anus through her underwear.

“Oh God!” she cried. Her ass started shuddering. Her body sought out the flowing object. She moved her legs out further, and bent over as far as she could. Then Tim came over and pushed the head of the hose right against her genitals through her panties. She felt the panties being pulled to the side, and Tim pushing the hose against the opening to her pussy.

She was wet. She felt the cool water against her opening, and she felt the warm stickiness flowing out of her. They mixed against the hose head. She pulled her panties up tight against her clitoris with her hand. She felt Tim’s finger rub up and down her slit as the hose flowed its cool liquid into her

She shuddered and pushed against Tim, feeling his fingers open her lips, feeling her juices. She strained against his fingers. She felt the pleasure build within her. She bucked once against his fingers. He found her clitoris and spread it out against his finger. That was all it took. She screamed as the pleasure rushed through her body from her breasts down to her slit. Her hips buckled several times as the wave rushed through her. And she collapsed against Tim’s body, panting heavily.

“You okay?” he asked. Enjoying her pleasure filled exclamation, but worried about her intense reaction.

“Ho… how did that happen?”

Tim shrugged his shoulders. “Just seemed in the moment. You enjoyed it, right.”

She nodded. “Bu… but what about you and Lauren.”

“Well, she’s not here with us. I’ve always thought you were attractive. You seemed to enjoy it.”

Kristen felt torn, she had enjoyed it. She knew that she was just as guilty of the actions as he had been. She had leaned into him, and she had rubbed against him. She had always looked at Lauren’s relationship with Tim with a bit of jealousy. But she now felt guilty.

Tim put his hand on her shoulder from behind. She felt the heat from his hand transfer into her body. Her heart beat faster. Her body throbbed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d feel this way,” he said behind her.

She turned towards him. She ran her hands across his bare chest. Her hands then trailed down towards his pants.

“K?” he asked unsure of her. She was protesting a moment ago, and now she was being provocative. Kristen didn’t understand it either. She felt that certain barriers between her and the outside world were down… barriers that she once held very important. But now she felt differently. She felt more curious, more exploratory, more daring…

Kristen’s hand went across the bulge in Tim’s pants. She felt the already large organ grown in his pants.

“Kristen….” he said to her again.

“Shhhhhhh” was her response, as her hand went down the top of his shorts. Her hands found Tim’s pubic hair and she ran her fingers through it, before finding his erect penis. She had never wondered about Tim’s penis. The male sex organ never really appealed to her, but as she ran her fingers across it, shivers ran up and down her spine.

Tim groaned in pleasure as her fingers explored his shaft.

Kristen had never been so bold in her life. The two boyfriends she had sex with always had to beg her to play with their genitals. It held little interest for her. But now, she couldn’t get enough of it. Her fingers ran across the tip of Tim’s penis, feeling the stickiness that already was present. She looked up into his face, and saw that his eyes were closed, enjoying the sensations.

Kirsten unbuttoned Tim’s shorts and slowly pulled them down, revealing his erect penis. It was well-shaped, with a slight curve to it, and the hair around Tim’s genitals was pale and almost cute. She started to kiss his stomach as she ran her fingers across his penis. She cupped his balls as she knelt down and kissed his hips, his thighs and his lower abdomen. There was a half-sigh of anticipation, as if Tim was unsure whether Kristen was going to do what she was suggesting.

Kristen had given a blow job before, but it really wasn’t something she did well or enjoyed for that matter. She took the head of his penis into her mouth, and swirled her whole mouth up and down it. Tim’s hips started to move a little. The taste of Tim’s flesh filled her with pleasure, the taste was still bitter, but an intoxicating bitterness.

She started to descend her mouth further down his length. Making his dick very wet, she grabbed the back of his ass, and squeezed as she continued to go up and down on his dick. she felt him grow in her mouth. She lightly ran her teeth across his tender flesh, he recoiled slightly, and to make up for it she ran her tongue all over the head of his penis. She felt a thin liquid pour out of him, and a strong ammonia smell entered her nostrils.

It was nasty yet intoxicating. She pursed her lips and ran her mouth all round his penis, getting it completely wet. She reached under and slowly massaged his testicles as her tongue rolled all around his hard member. His hips started to buckle, she kept on with him. Using her hand, she rubbed the foreskin of his penis, sliding it up and down.

Feeling the liquid increase on her tongue, she grew anxious. She didn’t want him to explode in her mouth. But she couldn’t stop. It was too intense, she dug her hands into Tim’s ass, and he pulled on her hair as the pleasure built in him.

He moaned in pleasure, and drove his cock deep into her mouth. She gripped it with her lips and his cock hit the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, and the blast of his ejaculation exploded in her mouth.

She was repulsed. The taste was not enjoyable at all. And the stickiness of it was really disgusting. Something in her thought it was awful. Yet, her body kept sucking, sucking every last drop off of his cock. Swallowing and sucking and licking it all over, opening up her mouth and throat so he could penetrate her mouth even further. Tim’s hips shuddered against her and delivered a final huge burst of cum into her mouth. It ran down her mouth as she licked his cock like a lollipop.

“Oh my god” Tim moaned.

“Did you like that?” she asked teasingly, not recognizing her own voice.

Tim fell back upon the grass, and Kristen fell back with him, lightly massaging his genitals as she did so.

“My goooodddddd,” he moaned again.

She ran her hands through his hair.

“I guess you got over your guilt,” he said.

She stopped and realized that any sense of guilt or remorse had been completely lost in the sexual compulsion of the moment. Kristen had been caught up in the moment before, but not like this… This was different. Like her body was opening up to new experiences… new sensations.

She wasn’t sure that she liked it, but she knew that her actions were her own.

“I just got caught up, I guess,” she said back to him.

“I should be straight with you, K. I don’t know if Lauren and I are a couple. It’s a very weird time, both of us at the same college. She’s hanging out with different friends, and we don’t see each other.”

Kristen shook her head. “You don’t need to justify…”

Tim smiled at her, “Maybe not, but I’m not bullshitting you. She and I were the best, last summer, when the three of us were together. And when I heard that you were back around, I guess I wanted to find out for myself who made those summer days better.”

She smiled back at him. “That’s sweet. But I don’t want to be the reason that you and Lauren break-up.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just wanted you to know that I’m not just looking for something on the side. Not that I mind,” he added, and Kristen blushed.

“I know what you mean, but Lauren’s my friend. It would be weird, you know, to hide this from her. Or try to be something else.”

“Well, I’m going to be around for a few days. Maybe we can get together. Get some coffee or something.”

She smiled back at him. The things she loved about Tim and Lauren returning. “That sounds great.”

Tim straightened up himself and he gave Kristen a big hug, before leaving.

Kristen, her mind full of doubt, brushed herself off, and headed inside to take a shower.

——————————————————————————–

If you liked (or even if you didn’t) like the story, please let me know. You can either comment below, or email me at lunabi93@hotmail.com.

Some basic backstory:  I started writing erotic stories as a reaction to most of the male-dominated (even when writing as females) stroke material that exists on the Internet:  Bad grammar and sentence structure; poorly created female characters; lack of eroticsm and sensuality in favor of getting to the ‘good stuff’; complete lack of plot and setting; and unrealistic fantasies and situations.  

Or put another way.  I got sick of poorly told, girls are total sluts begging to be fucked in every way possible, by as many people as possible.   

I wrote my stories trying to avoid these things.  I would like to think that, in a very limited sense, I’ve achieved that (but I may be VERY wrong, who knows).  However, there is a part of me that wants to explore the side of eroticsm that is VERY taboo, but that my sense of realism doesn’t allow. 

I still get turned on by the sexual freedom that some crazy erotically charged women have in these stories.  But I want it to be well written.  I still want there to be plot and characters and fun settings.  But basically an outlet for every naughty, taboo, other-side-of-the-tracks fantasy I’ve ever had.   

Hence, this series.  Allowing me to explore a female protagonist that has a change that completely alters her outlook, tendencies, morals, and preferences towards sex, as well as the people around her (3 guesses what that device is, and the first 2 don’t count).  Now, there will be real characters in this story, but for the most part, there will be sexual encounters that don’t happen as organically as my realistic side prefers. So this is my way of getting around what I think the protagonist would do, and allow the evil side of my writing to creep in.   

I have recently re-written this, combining details from a set-up chapter, and an ‘action’ chapter, into a single chapter that gets going more quickly.   

Let’s see where this takes us.   

Cheers!   

Luna Zax   

The day was long and warm, not unpleasant, but the hint of it was constantly there. Kristen was exhausted and hot as she carried the box up to her room. Going through her aunt’s house was getting to be a large dirty job, and she felt like it would never end.   

Aunt Agnes, technically her great Aunt Agnes, had passed away, somewhat surprisingly a week ago. Aunt Agnes had always lived in town, even when most of the other relatives had moved farther away. Kristen had fond memories of playing over at Aunt Agnes’s house when she was younger. Kristen’s mom, Rebecca, was Agnes’s god-daughter and the two of them had always had a special relationship. It was no surprise to anyone when Rebecca was named the executor of Agnes’s estate.   

That meant it was up to Rebecca, and by default Kristen, to go through Aunt Agnes’s house. Kristen went to help out and to find the dolls that she used to admire as a little girl. Kristen looked down at the box, with several scarves, a doll blanket, a photograph of her mom as a young girl, a porcelain unicorn figurine, and a wooden jewelry box with a gold and silver pattern.   

She felt completely sweaty and dirty from hours upon hours of going through boxes, sorting through clothes, finding items that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades. Her nostrils were still filled with the smell of mothballs, and she felt like there was constantly dust on her nose.   

Kristen sat on the bed and looked through the box of treasures she brought back, to rescue them from the other relatives and the house auction person who was arriving tomorrow. She pulled out the jewelry box, which she hadn’t really had a good change to look at in Aunt Agnes’s house. She opened it, and there was a more musty smell, suggesting that her Aunt hadn’t opened the box in a while.   

Kristen had found the box in the guest room, underneath some old papers. Her mom didn’t recognize it or the markings. She found it to be interesting, and threw it in her pile of stuff she wanted to rescue. She opened the box. The bottom of the box was lined with pink felt that was wearing thin. As Kristen pulled at the felt, the bottom moved.   

Kristen was curious and started pushing and moving at the bottom of the jewelry box. She realized that the box had a false bottom, and that there was a second compartment underneath. After manipulating the latch, she pulled off the container, revealing the bottom compartment, where there was a gold chain necklace with a small stone attached.   

She pulled her great-aunt’s green necklace out of the box, and . She stared at it a while. It wasn’t quite jade or emerald, but almost like a crystal like rock, flat. She peered inside, there appeared to be liquid inside, that seemed to move of its own accord. It was very pretty, she wondered why her great-aunt would keep it in the bottom of the chest in her attic.   

Kristen flopped down on the bed. The necklace was very unique. She had never seen a pendant or rock like this before. It was interesting, yet plain. It didn’t seem valuable or really even that pretty. But it was interesting, and she felt connected to it. Like this was something that embodied her great aunt at one point in time. She rubbed the rock which was flat but smooth, and had a pleasing feeling between her fingers.   

She placed the necklace around her neck, and sat up, looking at herself in the mirror. The stone looked somewhat gaudy on her green shirt, standing out too much. She tucked it inside, for the time being. The gold chain accentuating her neck in a very pretty way.   

Kristen sighed as she lay back on the bed. She would have to go back to school on Monday, just three days away. She wasn’t looking forward to being there. By now the word would have gotten back around about the breakup. And she didn’t want to sit there and confront any allegations or questions that people were going to have. Nor did she really feel like having a bitch session about Scott.   

She had wanted to tell her mother, or tell someone, that she broke up with her boyfriend, Scott. But that would involve two things. First, she would have to tell her mother that she was dating someone. Her mom tended to over-react to any relationship she ever had. She was too enthusiastic if she liked the boy, and if she didn’t like him, then it was a constant barrage of criticisms. In fact, her mother had scared off a few of her high school boyfriends.   

But Scott was her first college boyfriend. Kristen could date him without any interference from her mother. And, in fact, Kristen had let Scott take her virginity. She had other boyfriends in high school, but it didn’t seem right, or the right time. Scott was a nice guy, and he was good looking, and he was very different from the guys she had dated in high school.   

And then he broke up with her. Said she was getting too serious with him. Said he didn’t want to be tied down. Said he wanted to hang out with his friends more. It was bad enough to hear it, but her friends sent her pictures of Scott with a blonde girl at a recent college party. Kirsten was devastated. All of her spring plans were with Scott, and now they were all dissipated.   

She hated him for breaking up with her. She was looking forward to having a boyfriend during the warm weather. The cold March weather was about to break to the warmness of April. Even now, there were days when you just wanted to strip out of the jackets and jeans of the winter and have the freedom of less clothes of the Spring.   

Kristen blushed at the thought. She really had never thought about it like that before. Less clothes was simply a matter of sweating less and not feeling hot. She never felt confined by clothes. But there was a freedom to it. Girls wore skimpy bikinis, asking guys to look at them, after spending months covering themselves up in sweaters and jeans.   

She knew that she was more modest than most girls. It came from the teasing of early high school years, when Richard Linderman, used to call her desert flats. She looked at herself in the mirror from her bed. She had filled out, even in the last year, her bosom had swelled more.   

She laughed silently to herself. She never really cared about having big boobs, but she did realize that she was getting extra attention from guys this past year. Even Richard would have noticed her at that party.   

She looked at the curves clearly visible in her top. Such a stupid thing, she thought. Don’t guys know that they are purely functional. Guys don’t get hot looking at cow udders, why would they get all hot and bothered looking at women’s udders. She sighed and looked at her breasts again, lifting them up mockingly and letting them fall.   

Plus guys had this total misconception that girls totally just lost it when their breasts were stroked. Kristen did enjoy the touch, but she had to be in the mood to begin with usually by kissing or through her own imagination. Plus most guys liked to paw and squeeze and pinch, as all of their learning about women’s bodies came from too many inaccurate Penthouse Forum stories or dirty movies. It was a much more tender touch that was… required….   

Kristen had moved her hands up to the underside of her breasts inside her shirt. This incidental contact suddenly excited her, much more than usual.   

That felt good, she thought to herself. She ran her fingers across her stomach, the feelers on her stomach started to come alive with the touch.   

My body just got used to Scott touching me, she thought.   

Scott actually knew what he was doing. Slowly stroking her skin. He had experience, she guessed. Also, the fact that he was extremely good looking certainly made him less frenzied upon seeing a naked female body.   

Kristen discovered that her hands were now underneath her shirt and rubbing the skin above her navel. The tiny hairs felt like flagella flowing with the touch, making all of the hairs on her body flow with the touch.   

She lifted her shirt up higher to feel more of her skin. The skin was slightly tanned from years of summer camps, and running track. She saw the bottom of her lacy bra. The bra was new, as she had outgrown the ones from her high school years. The pink bra had looked cute in the store, and more importantly felt comfortable. She pulled up her shirt to look at the lacey pattern. Even she was shocked at the amount of cleavage the bra gave her, she looked really womanly, she thought.   

She traced the pattern with her fingers and felt her nipple inside her bra rise to meet her finger. Her nipples were normally not so sensitive. She arched her back and felt the slight tingle run down it. She circled her nipple with her finger as her other hand played with the skin on her stomach.   

She knew she should stop. Whenever she was home her mother doted on her, as if she was 11 years old: Doing her laundry, bringing her lemonade, asking if she wanted to go to the store with her. She could come in at any minute, but her hands were having none of it. Her left hand teased the top of her jeans, while her right rand down the curves of her breast, tracing the line of the bra. The bra was tight around her breasts now.   

Kristen unhooked the front clasp of the bra, and her breasts felt like they exploded from her bra. The pleasure coursed through her. She NEVER felt like this when she touched herself. She squeezed her right nipple as her other hand rose to meet the other breast. She loved this, loving the attention. She squeezed and pulled and pinched, feeling the rhythm coarse through her like waves against the shore.   

Her body begged her for release, her hips buckling as if telling her what she needed. Deep down Kristen was surprised, usually it took images or a fantasy to get her going, but now she was on fire. She had rarely felt this way, and never from her own touch. She unsnapped her jeans and pulled the zipper down. She rubbed the smooth front of her lavender panties. Nothing special she thought, but the smooth cotton pleased her fingers.   

She rubbed the front a few more times, but a voice inside her head said, “Go for it.” It wasn’t quite a command, but it was intense, and Kristen felt it in her core. She pulled her hand up, and slowly slid it under her panties. She played with her pubic hair for some time, loving the feeling. Each pull, each twist, teased her even more. Sometimes Scott had suggested that she shave, and in this moment she was very glad that she didn’t.   

Finally she could take it no longer, her fingers strained further down inside her panties held tight by her jeans. She rubbed her slit. One touch and it opened up to her, and the wetness poured out. Her hand was covered in wetness. She didn’t remember being this wet before. She found her clitoris and rubbed it while her mind and senses sighed in relief at the touch, while the rest of her body exploded in pleasure.   

She rubbed up and down her slit, spreading her clit out with her fingers on the upstroke. She got extreme pleasure from this. Her butt was moving of its own volition. Her hands were following their usual pattern, but something deep inside wanted more. She kept rubbing but the sensation, the desire was getting stronger, more intense. She couldn’t fight it, not with the promise of greater pleasure.   

Not caring about getting caught at the moment, she quickly forced her pants and panties down in one motion and kicked them off her foot. She spread her legs wide apart, as if allowing her lover inside. She was so open, so ready. Her fingers found her clitoris and squeezed.   

She nearly howled in pleasure. It was so intense; she barely knew how to handle the pleasure. She felt liquid pouring out of her body. She squeezed her legs around her arm and started arching her back against her hand. She ran her fingers up and down her slit and circling her clitoris when she came back up to the top. With her other hand, Kristen pinched her nipple hard. She howled louder. She couldn’t believe how hot she felt.   

She wanted something inside her. Kristen had rarely enjoyed penetration, but now she craved it. She needed something inside her. Her left hand kept rubbing her clitty, pinching and rubbing it, but her other hand pushed deep inside her vagina. Two long fingers slid in her wet hole. She pulled her clitoris up and opened up so wide for her fingers, her digits exploring the deepest, darkest, most sensitive spots, as her inner flesh squeezed them as they went inside.   

“More…” she cried out loud, not believing this. a third finger joined the other two. She howled even more. She felt the tightness of the orgasm building inside her. The wave was huge. She felt the blood rush from her face and her body, rushing lower. She started humping her hand, faster and faster, craving the pleasure more and more. It was so good, and it was so intense.   

She pinched her clit one last time and pushed her fingers deep inside her vagina. She arched her back allowing her fingers to go in deeper. The orgasm rushed downward across her vagina. The muscles squeezed her fingers as if they would break them. She pulled them out, and liquid exploded out of her like a shaken up soda bottle. Her butt landed on the bed in exhaustion.   

Kristen felt her face flush. She couldn’t stop panting. Her fingers remained around her swollen clit. She craved more. Then a wave of realization hit her, she remembered that she was in her mom’s house. And the walls were not that thick. She was sure that her normal sexual cries were stifled, but not so much about the hyper-sexuality she was feeling.   

Kristen sighed, she pulled her underwear and pants up over her soaked body to maintain modesty, in case her mother came in, and drifted off to a blissful sleep.

This is my recreation of that story.  The story is inspired by happenings that I witnessed when I was younger.  Someone feeling the exhilaration of a performance (acting, singing, playing instrument, etc), and the feelings after the performance is complete, then meets someone who they have been attracted to for quite sometime, and yet have never gone past flirting. As to why this has not happened, in my head there is a vague tabooness to the relationship, that I leave upto the reader to determine.  Feel free to choose what ever erotic pairing gives you pleasure.  This is an imagining of a young inexperienced girl who meets up with the wrong lover at the right time.

One final note, the story may give the reader an impression of virginity for the female protagonist.  When writing, I was trying to stress her inexperience both emotionally and physically, but not necessarily true innocence and virginity.  I hope that comes through.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Luna Zax

Exhilaration
By LunaZax
story codes (Mf)

The dress looked good on me, yet I didn’t recognize the person in the mirror.  The off-red lipstick, the makeup, the dark burgundy red dress, the black heels, and my hair wore up…  I barely recognized her. 

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach, in anticipation of the day.  I never had sought out the spotlight, but to shy away from it, never testing yourself, never letting yourself be what maybe you could be… Despite the butterflies and despite my fear, I couldn’t do that…  I needed to know… know what I could do when pushed to do it. 

It seemed to me that the trick is to just throw yourself into it.  Don’t think too much about it, and just do what you have done when the spotlight was not on.  Not a secret, not a surprise, but doing it… not just saying or thinking it, but actually doing it… that is definitely the trick. 

Ready as I ever will be, I follow the others onto the stage being very nervous… yet anxious to get started… knowing that once it starts then there’s no backing out, there’s no choice but to do my best, and fight that feeling of embarrassment, allowing the potential of failure to push me forward and perform. 

The lights go up and our performance commences. 

It is good.  It’s one of those intoxicating days where we hit our marks well.  One typical mistake and two new mistakes mar the performance for those of us in the know, but we all can tell that the audience is oblivious to it.  The warmth of community, the rapture of shared performance tingles through my body… I hold off from enjoyment, as it will disrupt what I need to do, but I know that later I will love this very moment. 

And then the fear hits again, as my moment approaches.  The moment where, very briefly, my support falls away, and I stand revealed, alone and solo for the audience.  I push the fear away, and try not to think about it.

The moment arrives, and I step into the spotlight.  I am totally unaware of what I am doing… only aware of the fact that I am doing it.  I embrace the performance as something I have done 100 times, that I have practiced 100 times, that I have prepared for 100 times.  I feel it build in me, and I perform… I deliver… and I express my creation and gift to the audience. 

And my moment over… I step back from the spotlight and rejoin the company, allowing others to have their turn in the spotlight.  The nervous intoxication has changed to success intoxication.  I feel light-headed.  I feel giddy.  I feel warm and pleasure filled up and down my spine.  The rapture of shared performance engulfing me in emotions I have rarely felt. 

Breathing heavy, I finally allow myself to look at the audience.  The crowd is a cacophony of the old and the young, few people who match the age of the young performers.

Then I notice him.

He stood out.  In my mind, he always stood out.  But today he intentionally stood out.  Dressed a little nicer than everyone else.  His age making him unique, falling between the youthful and the weathered.  Sitting in an area to the sides, where he most likely would be noticed.  No one would notice the difference in him sitting in the audience, but he stood out to me, clear as if the spotlight was shining on him.

I try to pull my focus and concentration back in. If you’ve never been on stage, you may not understand.  First off, there’s the stage lights which pretty much blurs the faces of the audience, allowing you to be in a cocoon. That’s the physical.  Then there’s the mental: Noticing someone in the crowd can break the spell of performance.  On stage, I am a singer, I am a performer, I am an actor, I am an instrument.  I am no longer myself.  I am self-conscious.  I am aware of who I am, and who I am not.

I give into fear for just a moment, and remember that the others are counting on me.  I return to the safety and sanctity of the group.  I become one with them, rejoining the collective as a single voice, as a single chord.  Inwardly my mind races.  What is he doing here?  Both of us, no longer in our traditional elements or surroundings.  And there was no denying the fact that he was here to see me.  There was no other explanation.  There was no alternative theory.  Neither of us could play upon the pretense of coincidence or circumstances. Joking and teasing fades.  Truth remains.

He was here to see me.

My heart beat faster and faster inside my dress.  It felt like its thumping would reverberate throughout my body evident to the crowd. 

The performance ends, and the appreciation flows from the audience onto the stage, and we bow humbly acknowledging their pproval, even though the bow is just as rehearsed as the performance.  I grab hands of my fellow performers, awash in emotion.  We get backstage, and I embrace my friends, as was our custom following the performance.  But, I am unable to hear the praise from my friends, as my heart is racing.  I am afraid.

Before now, there had always been excuses to say no.  It was easy.  Despite the teasing and flirting from both of us, the situation, the circumstances, the timing, the evidence… were all natural barriers in the way.  A playful what if for the mind, in times of loneliness. 

Those barriers were fallen by the wayside.  I would have to make a decision, no longer able to hide behind their safety.

My friends grab my hands and we head out to see friends and relatives who have come to see them.  I force myself to stay close to my friends, knowing that he will find me. 

I leave with them, and we reveal, introduce, embrace, and receive gratification from the audience who has come to see us.  I feel fate toying with me, as I do not see him in the initial throng of people who approach us. 

A hand touches my bare shoulder from my blind side.  I smell his cologne before I even look to see that it’s him, as I close my eyes a scant second and breathe in his scent.  I turn to look at him.  He’s there in a black suit, looking very natural and professional at the same time.  He greets me and hands me a hidden bouquet of white lilies, which he knows are my favorites.  I sigh.

I smell the flowers, and I feel my inhibitions crumble.  He offers his hand, and I take it willingly, as he leads me from the throng.

***

He leads me to someplace private.  My head is warm and swimming.  Regardless of everything I feel safe.

He compliments me again, and the blush creeps up my face, and my skin is covered in goosebumps.  He kisses the back of my hand, and I don’t pull away. 

And he notices…

He leans in and kisses my cheek.  I blush, but I don’t pull away. 

And he notices…

He moves in and kisses my mouth.  It is a peck, with just a hint of a little more.  I don’t react quite… I am stunned.  It is so different from my peers:  The hard scruffiness of his face that belies that this is no developing boy; His size seems so large, despite knowing and dating guys who are taller than him, yet I seem so small compared to him, so fragile;  He is so adult, and I feel like such a child. 

He comes back in for a second kiss, naturally, not forcing like the immaturity who have kissed me before.  My lips part, just slightly. 

And he notices…

He kisses a third time lingering on my lips.  My body instinctively knows the question that he is asking, and my neck leans back with just the slightest hint of invitation. 

And he notices…

His lips touch my skin on my neck, and I shiver from head to toe.  My shoulders fall, as I completely and willingly give into his control of the situation.  He notices, and so would anyone else.

My neck is on fire, as his strong hands wrap around my body daring to touch my back in an intimate way.  I’ve fantasized about his hands, as they make their way up and down my back.  He kisses back to my lips, and I fully respond to his mouth, our tongues meeting in full desire.  My body is already electric.

He kisses back to my neck, and a moan softly escapes my lips, surprising me.  I have never been this out of control before.  It does not match the stories of love and lust that I have read, but I at least understand their true origins for perhaps the first time.  The amateur pawing of my previous partners has never caused this reaction in me. 

I turn away from him, letting him follow my pleasure to the rest of my neck.  He turns me around and kisses my neck from behind, as his fingers unhook the top of my dress in the back and slowly unzips it.  He helps it off my shoulders.  My black bra is revealed to him, covering my small breasts.  His arms go under mine and take my breasts in his hands.  My nipples scream under the lace, rising to the surface.

The dress falls to the floor, and is quickly followed by the white slip that sheds the last of my modesty.  I stand in my underwear and hose.  I am totally exposed and totally revealed, in front of him, no less.  How often, I was hiding my body.  How often, I was teasing a look of me.  And now I was revealed, practically naked for him.

He kissed me and ran his fingers through my hair.  My skin was on fire.  I stood away from him for a moment. 

He was puzzled for a moment.  He had been in control for the entire day, and this moment was the most unexpected.  He looked in my face, looking for rejection, but found none.  My need was strong.  I loved him being in control… teaching me…. daring to initiate what I never could.  However, I could not let him believe that I was just a bystander.  

I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor.  My breasts revealed to him for the first time.  He looked at them in loving appreciation.  I then pushed my panties off of my hips, and let them fall to the floor as well.  I was naked, completely naked… more naked than I had ever allowed myself to be for someone else. 

And I was as guilty as he, and I wanted to be guilty.

He smiled and moved towards me.  Feeling accepted, I awaited his touch.  He embraces me, and kisses me, running his hands on the intimate parts of my body, my hips, my sides, the top of my ass.  He gently guides me backwards, and I fall onto my back. 

His mouth is on my breasts, and I feel my nipples respond…. My body reacts as designed, and I feel pleasure already through my body.  It is a pleasure that I have felt when I’ve been alone.  But I have never felt this way with someone else.

Let me correct that, I’ve never allowed myself to feel this way with someone else.  I’ve never wanted anyone this badly.

His hands run through the hair between my legs.  He seems to delight in it, tho I am almost ashamed at its naturalness.  His fingers find my wetness and tease me a moment.  I normally delight at touch, but it seemed too juvenile to me at the moment.  Scaring myself with my forwardness, I ran my fingers along the front of his pants. 

He removed his pants and his underwear and stood revealed to me.

Men’s genitals have seldom filled me with sexual desire, before or since.  And my soon-to-be lovers was no different… the difference was him.  We were not fooling around, we weren’t just messing about, and we weren’t experimenting. 

We were going to make love.

We were going to fuck.

His cock was thick and very hairy.  He was hairy, and so much bigger than me, and I needed him to be that.

I started to unbutton his shirt, and then sank to my knees and started kissing his member.  His penis was large, and was not pleasant and enjoyable, but I needed to do it.  I am not sure why.  My mouth engulfed his thickness and his hair covered my smooth face, as he fully undressed.

He laid me back and my legs were spread.  I sat open for him, waiting for him, wanting him.  I felt the tip of his member slide along my opening, and pushing against, asking for entrance, and (as much as I could control it) I allowed it inside.  Much wider than anything I had allowed, and much more adept and purpose filled than my previous experiences.  It pushed and pulled inside me, filled me in delightful and devastating ways. 

He pushed deeper inside of me, in a loving but forceful way, and I spread open, wanting it and wanting more, even though my body cried in distress.  He was large against me.  He was brutal against any remaining virginity I had.  He took me.  I felt my body grab his shaft, and squeeze.  I felt the pleasure within me, slide along with his sex, as I crashed against him. 

I felt the stirrings of pleasure within me.  My back arched as a wave hit me. 

He spun me around, so I was on my knees taking his cock from behind.  He started fucking me and slamming his cock into my cunt from behind.  Yes, my cunt… no longer any euphemisms…  I was his, and I was being fucked like a dog.  A small wave of pleasure hit me as he pushed deeper inside me.  I howled in pleasure, as the infiltration continued, sliding along my inner skin.

He continued his attack, and my body responded in kind, gripping him and taunting his pleasure as well.  I felt him stiffen and attempt to pull from me.  And I leaned back onto him, taking his cock deep inside me, feeling the seed spurt inside my warmth.  His cock exploded inside my body, and I started to shake from the pleasure within. 

He kept pushing into me… despite his pleasure being satisfied…  Wanting me to experience the rapture…

He succeeded, as I clenched around his body, and pulled him into me.  My pleasure was strong and nice.  The intensity did not match the situation, but there was almost no way it couldn’t.

Overcome by everything, everything that had happened, everything that had been realized, and everything that had been lost… I turned and pulled my lover onto me, his role in my life forever changed, and I wept into him.  Small silent cry and tiny tear drops falling onto my soft body.  We lay like that for an eternity, that seemed far too short.  I loved every minute of it, despite my vulnerability and my emotions.

I wanted to stay in that moment, where it was just the two of us.  Where the feelings and relationships of other people would not affect us.  Where the awkwardness and the taboos were not exposed.

Eventually, we dressed and began our exodus back to the real world, unsure of how things were to play out, and what the future held.

Luna Zax

Things are a bit of a tumult for me right now. 

Professionally I am really busy with work, and my connection to internet fun during the day has been even more restricted.

Creatively, I’m in a bit of a funk, tho I am finishing up a story that I think is really good, called Exhilaration.  I should have that posted today or tomorrow.

Finanically, things are problematic as my personal laptop needs to be fixed, or I need to get a new one….

Personally… I don’t like talking too much about my personal life on here, but… I’ve recently had my heart broken.  The who… what… where… how… will have to remain a personal memory for me.  And it has made me rethink a lot of things.  The new story reflects that, somewhat.

I still have dozens of stories in various stages of work. 

I think the next to work on is cleaning up the Amulet series: a story of a girl whose sexuality changes upon finding her Aunt’s amulet.  I have several chapters written, but need to rework the beginning to make it more exciting.

I want to finish the Four Wedding Stories series.  The poll suggests that I should write a Mother of the Bride story… which works in a nice way, but who to make her fall for.  I know people probably would like to see a Bride and Mother of the Bride story, but mother-daughter incest on the eve of a wedding doesn’t work as well.  Maybe the Bride’s best friend or something.

Other Ideas Include:

• Weekend Friends Chapter 2, where Colleen and Melissa become closer friends.
• Family Reunion, a tale of two young female cousins who see each other once a year, at family reunions, and the relationship that develops between them.  If I ever write this story, it just might break my heart tho. I know how the story ends.
• Luna and Jane’s Trip to the City, a story about a young woman (yes, pretty much being me) who takes a middle-aged naiive housewife to New York City for the day, and the adventure that ensues.
• The Tattoo, a story of a girl who posts pictures of her new back tattoo online, and the woman who finds them completely accidentally.
• The Getaway, a fictional account of me and three or four other internet friends who decide to actually meet, face-to-face, and how a real life encounter of internet cyber chatting girls might actually take place.

 So, no shortage of ideas.  Plenty of work, but the muses need to give me inspiration in my fingers, and I need to have time to let it happen. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my next story: Exhilaration.

Love,

Luna