Okay, so I REALLY like the Hamptons...

Well, that condo turns out to be a really nice place to live, and good timing being what it is, I am now One of The Team posting at Chilli Talk. So, for a while, expect to see me over there, and ONLY over there.

Talking Dirty My Way

A Treatise on Writing Porn

I: Porn versus Erotica

I have actually seen this argument break out in a lot of the weirdest places, and over some of the strangest grounds ever. Most people want to ascribe the tag of "erotica" to whatever it is they enjoy experiencing, some want to limit it to things that are written (as opposed to pictures or videos), others want to control it as whether or not it's art. To make this point perfectly clear: I write pornography. I do not write erotica. What is my distinction? Erotica is art that induces feelings of sexual arousal. Pornography is anything else that induces arousal. The issue then rests on "what is art?"

Art, to my manner of thinking, is the use of some means of communication to express more than the literal meaning of the communication, normally with an eye towards describing the human condition. When I write a story, I have no message. I am trying to get my readers hot and bothered, plain and simple. Now, I take a very artistic approach, and try to convey my ideas with as much skill and beauty as possible, but at the end of the day, all I care about is whether or not the reader has one hand or two below the table.

But, at the end of the day, there is only one true rule about writing: Write what you enjoy! If you don't enjoy what you are writing, it's going to be really tough to convince someone else to enjoy it.

II: Consistency

The single most important thing to any work of pornographic prose is the story. It can cover any ground, involve any people, and have them do any thing. But some stories bomb while others sizzle. Why? The first part has to do with internal logic. I have read perfectly arousing stories that have people unhinging their jaws to deep-stomach a dick that bumps into its owner's chin. This scene is obviously (I hope)
unrealistic, but it worked. Why? Because the story stuck to its own, goofy, delirious internal logic, and didn't back off of it.

My stories generally occur in the real world, on Planet Earth. I have not, and probably will not, write a story that occurs in space. So I have to deal with things like gravity, air, water, and other facts of Life on Earth. What this means is that Amazonian woman who was crushing beer cans in her bare hands can't be tossed around like a toy by the circus midget she had some weird fetish for. Now, you are probably
rolling your eyes and asking, "Why does this matter?" After all, as long as everyone gets their rocks off, who cares? Well, the reader does, just not consciously. Read this scene:

Monica pulled Bill's tie, dragging his face up against hers and the two kissed. Bill pushed her coat off her shoulders, and she crossed her arms behind her back suggestively. Bill sank downward, his tongue licking her breasts, suckling her nipples. Monica moaned and wrapped her legs around him. He stood up, hands squeezing her shoudlers as his hips rammed against hers, slamming his cock inside her.

what's wrong here? Firstly, these two never took their clothes off! Quite clearly, Bill was wearing some sort of suit, as was Monica. Now, one can argue that in paragraphs preceding this excerpt this could have been explained away with Bill wearing only a tie and Monica, only a coat, but that still makes the point. The clothes have to go sometime, and they need to be accounted for. Now, most readers, who are hopefully masturbating in some fashion at this point, aren't likely to be
specifically criticizing this point. However, somewhere in the back of their minds, the story is not adding up. The image is incomplete and the sense of immersion is being broken. This type of thing is part of the difference between a "hot" and "okay" story.

Look, if your hero is wearing shoes, he needs to take them off at some point. Even if it is just one throwaway sentence to the effect of "he stripped down to his bare ass," it needs to be there to keep the reader "sucked in," to the story, so to speak. Now, I prefer to expand on this and make it an integral part of the events, either as something erotic in its own right, or as a tense interlude, but HOW you do it is up to you. What's important is THAT you do it.

The other part of internal logic is the characters. The characters need to be real people. They can certainly act in unrealistic ways (how many black girls who like renaissance festivals really fuck random white jerkoffs who grope them right out of the fun house?) but they, too, have to be consistent. A shy, inexperienced girl being seduced for the first time is unlikely to scream rich obsenities while riding her first lover and whipping him with a cat o' nine tails. And, if she is the
shouting type, the vocabulary is likely to limited. Again, it is something that won't necessarily get specific criticism from the reader, but will puncture their sense of immersion, and take the edge off your stories.

This is where dialogue becomes such a challenge. It is depressingly easy to completely let the air of out of a good story by having an otherwise-realistic person start screaming like a porn star. I personally keep dialogue to a minimum, ESPECIALLY when it is during the sex, because it is so hard to have peope talk about what happens and not seem ridiculous. To a writer, I strongly advise them to carefully consider their dialogue.

Now, all this said, this not a ban on anything outlandish. If you want to write about two lesbians going at it in Central Park on the Fourth of July for everyone to see, go for it. But, you do need to acknowledge the fact that it is outrageous. If people read what's going on thinking "man, they would SO get arrested," they are NOT thinking "Ho-ly SHIT this is hot!" So have a few onlookers shouting at them, or busybodies immobilized by shock. Account for reality, don't just submit to it.
After all, if reality truly rules everything, then there wouldn't be so many stories to write, would there?

III: The Setup

The plot of your basic porn story is three parts: the setup, the action, and the ending. The setup can be any length, as long as it is interesting for its length. The setup should never be one word longer than necessary, but it shouldn't be shorter than appropriate either. One of my favorite stories, "A Girl Named Charlie" by Day Dreamer has an eleven paragraph setup, which is huge. Of course, he follows it with forty paragraphs of action, so the payoff is pretty good! Of course, this
story actually highlights a more sophicated structure, that I will cover later. Returning to the point of the Setup, we need to accomplish a brief set of goals:

-Introduce all the players
-Describe the primary chracteristics of the players
-Move them into the location of the action
-Set them on the road to Fucksville

There is no rule on how long it has to be in order to convey the message. Obviously, the eleven paragraphs of "A Girl Name Charlie" are on the long side, but they also do a tremendous job of creating sexual tension in the reader, because they acquaint us very thoroughly with the characters and the way in which we get to the scene of the crime. But just because a setup is longer, that does not automatically make it better. If you find yourself wanting to skip over parts of the setup as you
read it, then it needs to be shorter. It's that simple. If you can't hold your own interest, you shouldn't expect to hold anyone else's!

IV: The Action

Okay, now let's talk about the good stuff. Obviously, if we went Victorian and reduced it to, "She woke up the next morning, aglow with love," there wouldn't much point to this, would there? But, there is certainly room to screw up on the other extreme, too. It would be very easy to reduce a woman undressing to "She exposed her tits." But that sentence isn't very interesting, is it? How did she do it? Did she unbutton her shirt, pull it off, unzip her dress, what? Was she wearing a bra,
and what did it look like? What did her breasts look like? I've seen a lot of tits in my day, and there is a ton of possibilities here. At the same time, we don't need microscopic detail, or medical dictionary.

This gets to the biggest observation about my writing: I don't use slang for body parts. It has nothing to do with being inhibited or anything like that. I have no compunction about saying, or writing any words, and I don't think there is anything wrong with talking about cocks and pussies. EXCEPT in the context above. To me, simply saying what it is cuts off a rich opportunity to be much more descriptive. And a description feeds so much more into the imagination of a reader than a simple
word. Not only does it more precisely convey what you are envisioning, it helps to make the experience of reading more exotic, by taking to the reader to a place they wouldn't have just imagined on their own.

All that said, my same principles of realism above apply to this, as well. People's arms and legs have to go SOMEWHERE. The bonus is that, a lot of the time, describe the contortions that people go through to get their bodies together adds to the hotness of the story. If someone is coping with a weirdly painful position because what they are having is SO GOOD, that only adds to the reader's impression of "Wow, this must be HOT." Of course, if you are tilting more into fantasy, you have more leeway. But you need to be consistent.

My own style, a lot of times, edges right onto gritty realism, where I like to include a lot of the less-than-ideal aspects. Guys will cum too quickly, girls might need more attention after intercourse to get off, and so forth. This is absolutely NOT necessary. I just happen to like it in my stories. The point of the principles of realism is immersion, not journalism. You are not a newspaper reporter trying to cobble together a balanced, unbiased review of the events! You are trying to make
it seem as hot as possible. The point is not to get SO outrageous (at least, without acknowledging the fact) that readers start backing out on you.

V: Structure

How does the story happen? I, personally, write a lot of boy(s)-meet(s)-girl(s), boy(s)-like(s)-girl(s), boy(s)-spontaneously fuck(s)-girl(s)-who-fuck(s)-him/them-back, principles part ways or imply more action, stories. In "A Girl Name Charlie," boy meets girl, boy takes girl to movie, gets to third base, takes her home, next date eats her out and gets blown, takes her home, next date gets to home base, and checks the back door. Obviously, it's a long, long story, but the slower, richer
advance works really well, especially since it is written about teenagers in the forties, where even going all the way after three dates is being unspeakably easy. The point is that there is a progression. If the two characters already know each other, or already lovers, then that progression can be very short. Or, it can take place after an event where things get carried too far. But there needs to be SOME sort of arc to really give the events some weight. A simple vignette, a fuck out of
context, can certainly be done, and it can even be done well, but a story that provides enough information to give a little bit of color to the story ,and provide some meaning to the events, can add a lot of punch to what you write. It doesn't have to be much, but that little bit of color as to WHY these two people are fucking is the spice that makes the pie.

VI: Conclusions

I have tried to explain WHY I do what I do, and HOW I do it. And sure, I titled the article about doing things my way, but the ultimate point to all of this is make written porn better. It's not to produce an army of Mini-Me's out on the net who are exactly duplicating my work, although I don't think that would be a backwards step by any means. What I want the reader to get out of this is how to chase down the little details that keep taking the edge off of what should be a very good story, written in their own voice. Nothing is worse that a person writing out of their own skin, trying to sound like someone their not. It doesn't work in the bars, and it doesn't work in stories. So go out, be you, and have some fun. If all goes well, a lot of other people will get to have fun, too.

Swwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeetttttttt!

Fleshbot took notice of the publication of the second part of "The Documentary." It's nice to be noticed.

And be sure to check the third and final chapter when it hits. The little underlying pattern of part one being about one-person sex (masturbation), part two involving two-person sex...

I'm sure you can work the rest of the math.

New story coming up

Part 1 (of what I intend to be 3) of "The Documentary" is starting to post over at Chilli. Check it out.

Having a condo in the Hamptons

Can't really say I am getting a new home, buuuuuuuuuuut...

I am writing stories for Chili talk now. I'll still post some here if they don't wind up over there, but there will be no cross-posting. If it's there, it ain't here, and vice versa. I'm hoping getting some more readers will motivate me to write more, because I really enjoy doing it.

See you there!

Relaxation for Kim

Danny sat down in the cafeteria, absolutely bursting with energy, his mind barely aware of the world around him. Generally, in hospital cafeterias, this is a good way to go, as people are all over the map in these places. As he was about to bite into some very mysterious food in front of him, he looked across the table to see an exhausted woman in scrubs rubbing her neck and shooting him a major "what the hell" look. He quickly apologized, and explained that his first nephew had been born today. He spied her name tag: Kimberly. Kimberly smiled tiredly and congratulated him.

"Sorry about the attitude, it's been a long day."

"Doing what?"

"Keeping people alive, not that they believe me."

He smiled and edged a little closer to her as she talked about her job, the ungrateful patients all over the place and their even crazier families. Being responsible for some many people was really exhausting, she observed grimly. But she found Danny ebullience infectious. Finally he asked her if there was anything he could do for her.

"Know a good masseuse?"

"I know a gifted amateur," he grinned devilishly. She smiled back.

"Well, it's something," and she pointed to her shoulders. Danny eagerly walked around behind her and began rubbing on her tight muscles. Her eyes quickly closed as she focused on his big, warm hands working on her. She felt a lot of the stress fading away, and she could faintly smell his cologne wafting downward. This felt REALLY good.

"There, now you are doing much better." he said, as he let go of her shoulders, his hands departing with a soft caress that sent chills shooting through her body. He sat back down, his eyes glowing at her. As tired as she was of making decisions, she made one more.

"Have you been celebrating the little one?"

"Not yet, everyone has been here all day."

"I know a good bar to have a cigar at near here. I'll get the cancer stick if you get the drinks." He smiled knowingly back at her.

"Not interested in the cigar, but the rest is fine." She paused for a moment. This is moving awful fast, but she really needed this. And the last thing she really wanted to was to marinate in a bunch of secondhand smoke that she would have to wash out of her clothes..

"Tell you what, if you like rum, I have plenty of that at my place, and we can save on the bar tab." Danny's face flushed with excitement at what was coming, and he nodded quickly. "Okay, you drive. I am done being in charge today." They quickly made their way through the labyrinth of the hospital and out to the parking deck. Danny flew through traffic to the small house she lived in. She quickly unlocked the door, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind himself.

She turned and looked up at him, clasping her hands behind his head as she tilted her head to the left, opening her mouth. he eagerly reciprocated, the flat of his tongue caressing hers in her mouth. His lips were warm and soft on hers, as her pulse pounded in her ears. What a great kisser, she thought. The kiss was repeated over and over, his hands were splayed on her back roving over it, finally lifting the top of her scrubs off. She quietly cursed to herself that she had worn a very plain minimizer bra, but Danny soon dispensed with it as well, as she shrugged her way out of it when he unclasped it. He kneeled in front of her, bring her chest level to his face. She looked down as he happily massaged both breasts with hands before exposing her nipple to his eager mouth. His tongue snaked out, tracing the areola, each circle winding its way to the increasingly erect bud. His lips pressed down, hiding his tongue from her view, but she felt in madly circling in his mouth, then flicking as he started to suck on her. She moaned appreciatively at his ministrations, and ran her hands through his hair.

He lifted off, blowing a cool stream of air on her nipple to dry it off. He then kissed his way slowly down the swell of her breast, into her cleavage, mixing small licks in as he drifted up the other side to her other nipple. Again he began the slow circling, teasing his way to the sensitive little bump with almost agonizing deliberateness. Her breath caught when he finally made contact, her fingers balling up in his hair. He smiled, holding her wet nipple gently between his teeth, pressing them in just a bit before resuming the warm soft licks. Kim was feeling even more aroused as he began to trickle kisses and lick up her chest, along her neck, over her pulse to her ear, breathing on her ear as his hand went up into her hair, pulling her head away from his touch, bring her lips back to his. She hungrily resumed kissing him, her hands running over his shirt, clenching the fabric in one hand as she tugged upward. He quickly reached over and pulled his shirt off over her head, dropping it behind her. Her hands roved over his chest, feeling his muscles beneath her touch. her eyes look downward at the bulge on his jeans. He smiled and push her head down as she sank to her knees.

With an authoritive grin, he undid his belt, the leather swing in form of her fact. He then pulled the fly open, the buttons popping softly, and pushed his jeans down while his feet worked out of his shoes. Kim quickly slid her own shoes off as she felt him push her face into the thin cotton of his shorts, the warm pulsing bulge radiating through the fabric against her mouth. She opened up, blowing hot air onto him. As he stepped out of his jeans, he pulled her head back to push his shorts away, and the thick, heavy organ bounced in front of her. She opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out and running it under the warm shaft, letting the weight apply the pressure to her tongue. As she reach the top she turned her head back around and began taking him past her wet lips into her mouth. Her nose filled with his masculine odor as her head began bobbing, sucking on him, feeling his hot, hard length across her tongue. His hand pushed her head all the way down onto him, nearly to her throat. She heard his voice. "Shit..." She felt a hot, salty jet filling her mouth. She quickly swallowed as the next load came, and another, and another. After swallowing the last load she began licking him up, cleaning his glistening member, taking the last few dribbles away. She looked up and saw him biting his lip in frustration. She smiled back at him.

His mood changed as he pushed the disappointment away to take control again. He pulled her up off her knees. "Take them off." He pointed to her pants. She smiled slyly as pushed them off, revealing a tiny thong. "That too." She grinned coyly as she hooked her thumb under the string on her hips, swaying a little as she guided it to the floor. He pushed her down to the bed on her back, her hips at the edge. She lifted her legs up as knelt in front of her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations:

A tongue on her inner thigh, dragging downward toward her center

The tongue on her other leg, again, meandering up her thigh

Hot breath on her body

A tongue, tracing around the her most delicate flesh

A finger, right at her center, rolling, flicking, wetting itself on her.

A tongue replacing the finger, curling upward, dragging her wetness up to her throbbing clitoris-

Her eyes flashed open as her breath rushed out in a moan. As the room stopped spinning she was aware of a tongue flicking up and down madly on her clit, and finger inside her curling, searching for that tiny washboard insi-

A dazzling rush of heat exploded from her hips as her found the spot. His lips clamped down on her, bathing her in warmth as his tongue continued to work furiously on the engorged knob outside as his finger conducted a very selective massage inside her body. She realized she was screaming. She found her hands pulling her his head into her body. The waves of heat started rising, cresting -

AND

EXPLODING. Kim was writhing on the bed, out of control as Danny's oral assault continued on her. She swam through blazing waves rolling out of her center, trying to remember what was happening. Suddenly, the ocean began to quiet. Her eyes began to focus again, her vision cleared as she was aware that he had stopped. There was a quiet, rhythmic slapping sound. She struggled and lifted her head up to see him stroking himself back to erection. His eyes flashed wickedly, as he pulled a small piece of wrapper out of his pocket. She watched with fascination as he unrolled the condom onto himself, an odd moment of quiet before the storm.

He grabbed her knee and threw it across her body, ordering her to roll over. She complied, lifting herself up onto her hands and knees. She felt his hands, one slick and one dry, grasp her hips. She then felt the thick, warm head of his erection against her. The slick hand let go of her hips to guide him. He ran the head up and down over her engorged organs, wetting it. Finally, he settled on that soft spot, and slowly...slowly pressed inward. His hand grabbed her hips again and he pulled her back, impaling her slowly. Desire overcame her as she pushed her hips back against him. He spanked her, playfully, and she shivered as the stinging of his hand quickly subsided into pleasing warmth. She sensed the discovery in him.

Suddenly he jerked, ramming the rest of the length home, nearly striking her cervix, filling her almost completely. She screamed out as the pain melted into pleasure. He spanked her again, then grabbed her shoulders as began to thrust. His hand lashed across her cheeks, sending electric shockwaves through her body that were chased away the familiar rising heat. His other hand jerked her shoulders back, planting her all the way down his shaft. The rough treatment, the taking away of all her role in this, the total control of her body, commanded all of her attention. She poured her stress into it, giving herself up to him as he became increasingly violent, spanking her, pounding her body. As took control, her arousal spiraled out of control. She surrendered to the pleasure, the raging wall of sensations from the spanking, her muscles trying to grab the unyielding rock inside her as it pumped through her body, his hands pushing her along his shaft. Orgasms plowed across her, one after another. She felt the last her energy drain from her body as she went completely limp, sliding off of him. He pushed her onto her back, as he quickly straddled her chest, peeling the wet latex off. He laid himself on her mouth, where she licked at him absently, aware of her role but incapable of action. His hand quickly began pumping along his shaft, working another climax form his body. Soon enough there was a warm dribble rolling off of the mushroom head, dripping into her mouth, which she accepted with a few warm licks.

He slid down behind her, hold her close, their bodies bathed in each other's warmth as a thin film of sweat quickly formed between them. Her eyes opened slowly to see her alarm clock. 9:45. This night was still young...

A Lack of Professionalism

"I love LA." These were the exact words in my head as Melanie roughly grabbed my erection through my slacks and pointed it upwards. The lithe dancer had earlier promised to "molest the fuck out of" me and she was making good on this. Of course, while she making these adjustment she was keeping her breasts jammed in my face. And of course this club was nonsmoking. I have to admit, I love California ordnances. She then ground her hips on me as she reached a little lower to fondle the rest of me.

We were talking at the same time. It was her birthday, so I had tipped her double on the first dance, which seemed to really win some points. Apparently, I had picked the slowest night of the year to show up (of course!) and I was her first private dance of the night (naturally!) and she was just glad to get some work. Not that I mind being made to feel important, mind you, but I generally know better than to believe what a stripper is saying. Anyhow, it was getting to the end of her shift and was curious if I had ever been to the bartending school next door. Of course I hadn't, and apparently you can get drinks there really cheap (you get what you pay for?), and she was curious if I wanted a drink over there. Now, I have had plenty of my buddies fall for the "meet me after work" line, of course, they were usually hitting on the performer, which I never bother with. So, I didn't know if she was just on autopilot here, but I just smiled and said I would love to meet her. After a few more dances of increasing vigorousness, I went back out to the main room, and killed a few minutes (and a lot of singles), then headed out to the car.

Now, to be totally honest, I really expected to just sit there half an hour, see no one go into the school and then head on back to the hotel. But I was almost putting my key in the lock when I heard her voice behind me. "Where are you going?"

"To get my phone." Damn, I'm smooth.

"Okay, meet me over here?" she said, pointing to the bartending school.

"You bet."

I made motions to grab the phone that I was pretending was in the car and was actually in my pocket then walked over to the school to find a surprisingly bar-like setup. I pulled up in the stool next to her.

"So what's your real name?"

"Melanie." She saw my surprise. "I normally go by Dallas in there." Ah, there we go. She ordered a margarita, and, trying to keep the degree of difficulty low, I ordered a Lynchburg Lemonade, which got me two dollars lighter, and one twisted facial expression as what tasted like Jim Beam and vermouth hit my mouth. She laughed a bit as I set the drink on the bar far enough from my hand to keep me from idly sipping it. She set her hand on my knee.

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Mariott by the airport?"

"Nice room?"

"About average."

"Can I see it?"

"Socially?"

"Sure, let's go."

I pulled my tip off the bar and we darted across the dark street to the collection of vaugely mobile parts that was my rental car. I pulled out and felt her hand on my thigh. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Not at all."

Now, I have had a fair number of adventures in cars, but never in a moving vehicle. She decided not to bother with my belt and unzipped my pants. Her hand went in, popping the button on my shorts, and I felt her cool fingers grab my half-hard maleness. She quickly pulled it free of the fabric. I put my right arm on the back of her seat and she leaned over. I felt her tongue's electrifying prescence on me as her mouth sank down, and quickly the blood rushed from the rest of my body to meet her skilled ministrations. She started bobbing her head aggressively, taking the full length in. I had barely realized what she was doing before I felt my body unleashing streams of fluid into her mouth, which she quickly swallowed. After a few milking motions she lifted her head off and put me back together, just as I was pulling off the highway.

"Nice and thick. I am going to enjoy feeling that in me."

"I'm going to love making you feel in it in you." She smiled as she pulled an Altoid tin from her purse as I pulled into the hotel. She took my hand, interlacing our fingers as we walked into the hotel. The elevator arrived, we stepped in, and I pressed the 7. As the doors closed she pulled my face to hers, kissing me. Her mouth tasted frigid from the mints, but her tongue was amazing, darting through my mouth. we reached the top floor and quickly went to my room, which was directly next to the elevator. I smoothly (for once!) got the key card in and out of the lock and we stepped in. As the door closed behind her I pinned her to the door, kissing her. She kissed back and then pushed me off.

"Go sit down," she pointed to the armless straight back chair under the desk. I did so, facing the chair into the room. She turned on the radio and adjusted it to one of the eight thousand radio stations in LA and some jazz softly filled the room. She opened her coat and revealed her chains-and-thong costume from the club. "This is where I get what I really wanted." She stepped over to me, straddling my right leg, her hand on my shirt buttons, slowly undoing the top button. The cool chains covering her breasts draped on my face as pressed her nipple to my lips. Then time I opened my mouth wide, licking circles around her nipples as she swiftly undid my shirt with her practiced hands. She then laid one arm over my head and turned it up to her face. "I knew you were going to be good at that." She lowered her face to mine, her hair draping around my face as she kissed me again, her tongue slowly exploring my mouth as her other hand lifted my undershirt, pinching my nipple. I groand a bit into her mouth as she broke the kiss and pusehd my shirt off my shoulders. I reached behind her to unbutton the cuffs, but she stopped me. Melanie lifted the fabric over the back of the chair and draped it behind, pinning my arms behind me. She toyed briefly with the black undershirt, smiling at me. "I knew when I saw this you were a gentleman." I smiled.

"So remembering to wear a tee makes you a gentleman?" I teased her. She leaned over and licked my ear.

"It means you will be getting lucky tonight. Is that good enough?" she breathed.

"Plenty!"

She dragged her lips down my neck, barely touching me, a move she had no doubt perfected at her job. I felt her breath come burning out. Her hands grabbed my undershirt and yanked it up, pushing it over my and down my arms, further trapping them behind me. She held herself over me, standing between my legs. She wrapped her arms around my head, pushing toward the cold chains over her breasts, nestling it in her cleavage, then began to sink down again, grazing her lips over my face before settling on my mouth for another kiss, deep and passionate, but brief as she drifted down further, just grazing my body until she settled on my nipples again, flicking with her tongue, then biting just a bit. Her hands drifted down from my shoulders, her touch impossibly light. She flicked her tongue out, teasing my chest and belly as settled onto her knees, her face dangerous close to the pulsing bulge in my pants. Her hands both settled on it, rubbing the sides gently through the cloth as she looked up and smiled at me.

She then stood up and faced away from me. Her hips came to rest right on the bulge, pressing her weight arousingly into the rigid lump below. She looked over her shoulder, smiling impishly as she tugged at the knot in the center of her back, releasing her top. A second tug behind her neck and she was only in a thong. I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt, letting both of them fall free, but obiediently keeping my hands out of sight. She smiled as she ground her hips into my pants. Then she turned and faced me, straddling my hips, settling her weight squarely on the rail in my pants as she leaned over and kissed me again, settling the dark curtain of her hair over me. As she did, her hands slid down my arms to find I had disposed of my bonds. She pulled my hands back, guiding them to her upper thighs, so close to the cloth-covered contact between us. She broke kiss and lifted up a bit, pushing her breasts in my face, demanding my attention. I happily complied, suckling her a bit as I ran my tounge in fast circles around the bud before flicking it quickly up and down. She moaned at this before finally shifting my attentions across her chest.

As my hands slide farther up, cupping her cheeks, I could feel a burning heat between them. I wrapped my right hand around and began rubbing her through her thong, which I found to be totally soaked. She moaned approvingly, and I tugged the fabric aside, letting her odor quickly waft up to my face. I wet my finger in her center before winding it through her flesh to find the hidden bud. Quikcly I began flicking away. She pushed my head off her breast and sank lower, resting her thighs on mine so as not to take away my access. Her touch, previously so light became heavy as she rested her lithe body on mine, and I felt her warmth on me. As the motions picked up, she began to shiver from the sensations. I doubled my efforts. She bit my ear, moaning. "Don't stop. Don't stoooooooooooooop!" I felt the shivers intensify and start to crest, so I shifted my very wet finger down and pressed against her opening, quickly sinking into her. She let out a deep yelp in pleasure, leaving my ear ringing from the noise and tingling from the rush of her breath. I curled my finger inside her, looking for the spot. Her head snapped back as her body exploded into convulsions when I found it. I quickly pumped my hand in and out, striking the spot over and over. She ground her whole body against my hand, keeping her chest pinned to, clinging her arms around my back, her breath coming out in ragged shouts into my over-worked ear. Finally I heard her begging me to stop. I slowed my hand down, leaving my finger inside her as she lay limply on me, glistening with sweat in the dimly lit room.

I pulled my hand out, releasing the twisted fabric of her thong as I held her on my lap, my hands on holding her hips. Quickly, her strength returned and she peeled herself off me. She stood up over me and pushed her thong over her hips, dropping it to the floor, finally, totally revealing herself to me. Melanie then dropped to her knees, unbuckling my belt and nearly tearing my pants and shorts off. Seeing a sign of fatigue before her, she smiled and took me into her mouth, sucking the head. She lifted her very full mouth off to lick around the tip, sending intense waves radiating from the point. She squeezed me a bit with her hand, confirming that eveything was in order. She rose to her feet and straddled me, one hand behind my neck, one below her hips, pointing me into her body. She started to lower herself, just making the first wet contact, and running her hips over me. I bit my lip and groaned a bit. She smiled, and lowered her face again, kissing slow, and deep. As the kiss became increasingly involved she pushed her hips down, taking me in. I felt her wince at first as she first enveloped the thickness, but she took a breath and sank the rest of the way on to me, enclosing my throbbing erection in a blinding wave of heat and pleasure. There she held still for a moment, commanding her muscles to relax. Her hand splayed flat on my chest, her hand covering my nipple. She broke the kiss and looked at me, her eye contact intense. She bit her lip and began to grind. Her mouth turned into a smile as she never broke eye contact, pushing her hips up and down. Our breaths mingled as each of us began to surrender conscious control. My hands held her hips, turning them up and down as she rose and fell. I became aware she was moaning through the cloud of sensations, but I dared not break eye contact. Her mouth was open, screams were escaping. The stars became novas as she exploded into climax, her muscles spasming madly, clenching me, propelling me into my own ecstasy. Our bodies erupted together. I felt explosive, seizing her lithe body in my hands. I stood up, our bodies conjoined, and fell backwards into the bed. Her hair covered my face, our bodies were sweating profusely and the pleasure was stilling reverberating through every nerve, echoing back and forth between our bodies.

I blinked, trying to orient myself. She lay on me, panting, exhausted. I could feel myself shrinking away from her body, slipping out. She remained on me for a moment. I then felt the cold wave of air as her skin stripped itself from mine. She fell next to me on the bed, still breathing hard. Slowly the room came in focus, I became aware of myself again. She was on her side, smiling at me. She dragged a finger along my body. "You know, this was very unprofessional of me. So, when you write about this, please change my name?" I smiled at her, and promised I would. She slowly sat up on the bed and I admired her figure, the graceful curves of her body. She looked at my dark t-shirt on the floor. "Can I have this?" I smiled and nodded, and she pulled it on, admiring how the fabric settled happily around the curves of her body. She quickly gathered her remaining clothes, and put on her coat again leaving the top open this time, regaining her outward respectibility. I pulled my pajama pants out of my suitcase and donned them, walking into the bathroom as she finished polishing her appearance.

"Do you need a ride?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

I drove her back to the club. I can't remember what we talked about, but I do remember what she said as we got to her car:

"Thank you. This was really nice." She leaned over and kissed me quickly on the lips. "I can't wait to read about me."

Wait no more.