Strip for me

[OhMissScarlett]

What is this a Hawaiian holiday? HookyHooky day?

*lights cigarette and pours another two fingers of scotch*

You should strip for me too, missy.

Raphy...very nice. Flex the abs some.

Oh, I just might when I get bored with heckling people from the bar.

 

[English Lady]

Oooooooh I like this thread! *drools*


Hmmm, might have a play at this myself if I may Mr Thread Head, Head of Thread erm Rhys

Though I'm not sure I want to follow Raphy's masterpiece (Love, I could eat you on a butty right now )

 

[raphy]

Oooooooh I like this thread! *drools*


Hmmm, might have a play at this myself if I may Mr Thread Head, Head of Thread erm Rhys

Though I'm not sure I want to follow Raphy's masterpiece (Love, I could eat you on a butty right now )

Awww, thank you honey. It was no masterpiece though. My writing skills are noticably rusty compared to a year ago.

The metaphors were lacking, the similies unimaginative and the adverbs verging on the mundane. There was too much repetition in there, and not of the intentional (good) kind, but that of the unimaginative-I-can't-think-of-any-other-way-to-say-this kind. My descriptive vocabulary is lacking these days, it would seem.

Writing's just like any other skill, of course. If you don't practise it, you get rusty. Alas, my guitar has stolen my talent for prose.

 

[joeys-game]

Okay. My contribution.....

---
It's dark.

I can't see, but that doesn't matter. I don't need to see to know you're out there. Somewhere beyond the shadows, watching me, waiting for me. I know that you can see me, even if I cannot see you. I can hear your breathing, the slow rhythmic pulse of life, and it excites me. My nostrils flare, catching your scent and I close my eyes. They're no use to me now anyway.

"Strip."

You speak the word, almost too softly to hear. I find myself straining through the darkness. Without my sight, my other senses are heightened, aroused. I'm aware of the feel of the cloth shirt on my skin, the way it softly rubs my nipples. Electrifying. The denim of my 501s. They're clean, freshly laundered, and they pull at the hairs on my thighs as I move.

Sensation.

My world is a world of sensation without sight. Of sound that lingers on the egde of hearing. The catch in your throat as each button of my shirt pops free. Your breathing. Does it grow faster with each twist of my fingers, or is that my imagination? Do the movements remind you of what these fingers can do you to, to your body? Do they hold a promise, display a need to do these things to you?

I'm hard. I can feel it already. My cock, pushing against the buttons of my Levis. You have made me this way; your need of me, your desire. Your fire.

The friction of the denim on my skin as my pants slide down is almost too much. Your breathing is faster now, more urgent, harsher. Louder. The waistband of my Levis, made heavy by my belt buckle, slipping over the curve of my ass. My eyes are still closed, and all I can see in the private darkness behind my eyelids is you. Touching yourself. Watching me through eyes dark with lust as I display myself for you.

I hear you clearly now, your breathing an audible echo to the pounding of my heart. I am so hard it almost hurts, and I know you can see me, standing before you, my cock swollen and rigid, the veins full of blood. Full of need. Desperate to be touched. Aching to be stroked. And then, almost suddenly, my pants are pooling around my ankles, and the loss of sensation on my skin is so unexpected, so unwanted, that I almost moan. I need that touch. I need to feel your hands on my thighs, stroking higher. I need to feel your desire for me. I need to feel you want me.

I need you.
--

There ya go. First thing I've written since Nano two years ago!! Comments always welcome

Now that's a teaching tool!

 

[English Lady]

Awww, thank you honey. It was no masterpiece though. My writing skills are noticably rusty compared to a year ago.

The metaphors were lacking, the similies unimaginative and the adverbs verging on the mundane. There was too much repetition in there, and not of the intentional (good) kind, but that of the unimaginative-I-can't-think-of-any-other-way-to-say-this kind. My descriptive vocabulary is lacking these days, it would seem.

Writing's just like any other skill, of course. If you don't practise it, you get rusty. Alas, my guitar has stolen my talent for prose.

Raphy, it got me hot and some other folks too.


t'was good. If you can do better...we are waiting with baited breath! Rusty? If you say so, but still in the realm of good and hot and sexy!

 

[raphy]

Raphy, it got me hot and some other folks too.


t'was good. If you can do better...we are waiting with baited breath! Rusty? If you say so, but still in the realm of good and hot and sexy!

*laughs*

Thank ya , darlin'. You do my ego a world of good.

Aaah, if I could do better, I probably would have. I dunno. It seems awfully narcissistic of me, but I could critique it. Maybe that's not a bad idea - Don't they say you should critique your own work? I can definitely see room for improvement in it, although I am not confident that I am a good enough writer *right now* to actually make those improvements.

 

[English Lady]

Raphy, well it's a start. you've written, you've let it out. Improvement will happen as you go along, writing more is the only cure

 

[raphy]

Raphy, well it's a start. you've written, you've let it out. Improvement will happen as you go along, writing more is the only cure

Har!! I see your plot!!

You're probably right..write..wright.. wait, hold on. Anyway, whatever it is, you're probably it.

Unfortunately, the music won't let me go that easily ...

She lasted a week in that hospital bed
We watched her in shifts, night and day
Then she coughed, and she drew her last breath
And I fell to my knees and I prayed

Give me a moment, a little time alone
Just one precious second, before she goes home
Just a moment, to say what's on my mind
To say my goodbyes one last time

 

[English Lady]

Har!! I see your plot!!

You're probably right..write..wright.. wait, hold on. Anyway, whatever it is, you're probably it.

Unfortunately, the music won't let me go that easily ...

She lasted a week in that hospital bed
We watched her in shifts, night and day
Then she coughed, and she drew her last breath
And I fell to my knees and I prayed

Give me a moment, a little time alone
Just one precious second, before she goes home
Just a moment, to say what's on my mind
To say my goodbyes one last time

Probably right? Oooh I'm happy with that. It's better than definitely wrong.

Raphy -write and create what you wanna hun, it's allllllll good!

Now what happened to the stripping?

 

[raphy]

Oh, I'm all done with that

 

[English Lady]

Oh, I'm all done with that

NEXT!!!!

 

[carsonshepherd]

What is this a Hawaiian holiday? HookyHooky day?

*lights cigarette and pours another two fingers of scotch*

You should strip for me too, missy.

Raphy...very nice. Flex the abs some.

i wasn't playing hooky, i had to leave early to go to the doctor <insert pity here>

(i'm just fine.)

 

[carsonshepherd]

Okay. My contribution.....

---
It's dark.

I can't see, but that doesn't matter. I don't need to see to know you're out there. Somewhere beyond the shadows, watching me, waiting for me. I know that you can see me, even if I cannot see you. I can hear your breathing, the slow rhythmic pulse of life, and it excites me. My nostrils flare, catching your scent and I close my eyes. They're no use to me now anyway.

"Strip."

You speak the word, almost too softly to hear. I find myself straining through the darkness. Without my sight, my other senses are heightened, aroused. I'm aware of the feel of the cloth shirt on my skin, the way it softly rubs my nipples. Electrifying. The denim of my 501s. They're clean, freshly laundered, and they pull at the hairs on my thighs as I move.

Sensation.

My world is a world of sensation without sight. Of sound that lingers on the egde of hearing. The catch in your throat as each button of my shirt pops free. Your breathing. Does it grow faster with each twist of my fingers, or is that my imagination? Do the movements remind you of what these fingers can do you to, to your body? Do they hold a promise, display a need to do these things to you?

I'm hard. I can feel it already. My cock, pushing against the buttons of my Levis. You have made me this way; your need of me, your desire. Your fire.

The friction of the denim on my skin as my pants slide down is almost too much. Your breathing is faster now, more urgent, harsher. Louder. The waistband of my Levis, made heavy by my belt buckle, slipping over the curve of my ass. My eyes are still closed, and all I can see in the private darkness behind my eyelids is you. Touching yourself. Watching me through eyes dark with lust as I display myself for you.

I hear you clearly now, your breathing an audible echo to the pounding of my heart. I am so hard it almost hurts, and I know you can see me, standing before you, my cock swollen and rigid, the veins full of blood. Full of need. Desperate to be touched. Aching to be stroked. And then, almost suddenly, my pants are pooling around my ankles, and the loss of sensation on my skin is so unexpected, so unwanted, that I almost moan. I need that touch. I need to feel your hands on my thighs, stroking higher. I need to feel your desire for me. I need to feel you want me.

I need you.
--

There ya go. First thing I've written since Nano two years ago!! Comments always welcome

*drools*

nice to meet you, BTW.

 

[carsonshepherd]

For Rhys...how about this?



I had my eyes shut tight when i first felt the warmth of your hands as they massaged, stroked. and manipulated my body. The sensations forced a groan to escape my mouth and i felt embarrased as this was only supposed to be a massage and not as far as i knew a sexual one in nature.
I felt myself growing hard and knew that it wouldn't be long before i was also wet.
Your large hands seemed to know exactly what erogenous zones would illicit the strongest reaction.
I felt incredibly vulnerable as you continued to play my increasingly sensitive body! Every touch sending a white hot blast of heat between my legs, which in turn left my cock throbbing for more!

this is better, but leave off the !!!!'s. they don't belong in a narrative. only in dialogue and even that's borderline.

 

[NoJo]

Also, try not be so gay.

 

[joeys-game]

this is better, but leave off the !!!!'s. they don't belong in a narrative. only in dialogue and even that's borderline.

Thanks Carson.


To subjo.
wtf?

 

[CharleyH]

Joey. Make it good.

Make it great, and strip for us! As my Fosse hero said sort of: I cant make you a great fuck, but I can make you a better one

.

 

[Rhys]

manipulated your body HOW?

detail. capitalization.


Write it again.

 

[CharleyH]

*drools*

nice to meet you, BTW.

DAMN YOU BEG too much for ass!

Oh that is good!!! But what a fuck Ryhs is to you .. online A thought unless you like - which is good . Just saying I would not take his assholnish - OK asshole I would!

 

[carsonshepherd]

DAMN YOU BEG too much for ass!

Oh that is good!!! But what a fuck Ryhs is to you .. online A thought unless you like - which is good . Just saying I would not take his assholnish - OK asshole I would!

well, he does have other qualities that compensate....

(and I don't beg. I've never had to.)

as for Joey... he asked.

 

[CharleyH]

well, he does have other qualities that compensate....

(and I don't beg. I've never had to.)

as for Joey... he asked.

You never beg? THAT is worth a caning .

WHO IS jOEY?

 

[raphy]

*drools*

nice to meet you, BTW.

*grins*

You too =)

 

[raphy]

Now that's a teaching tool!

Joey, if you manage to learn anything from my verbal diarrhea, then I am well pleased with my efforts.

 

[carsonshepherd]

You never beg? THAT is worth a caning .

WHO IS jOEY?

inquiring minds would like to know....

 

[Dar~]

The carpet ticklesthe bottom of my feet as I step out of the bathroom and into the semi darkness of the bedroom. I hear you rather than see you and my breath quickens in anticipation. I hadn't heard you come in, I was in the shower.
My nipples harden against the soft tshirt, still warm from the dryer, and my heart is racing. What would you want of me. Whatever it was, I knew that I too would enjoy it.

"Strip."

One simple command and yet so many physical responses. Just the tiniest trace of fear, I had never stripped for someone before. Would I please you?

Hearing the sharp sound of disapproval in your sigh, I lift slightly jittery hands to the bottom of the shirt, softly carressing myself for you. Letting my hands linger for a moment at my center, feeling the warmth. I want to please you and show you how much you engulf me in desire. I can feel myself getting moist through my shorts and as I lift the shirt to remove it you inhale deeply causing my heart to pound and my hands to shake a little more. Did you or approve , was I going too slowly, too fast?

The shirt over my head and my arms entangled you tell me to stand still and I hear you approach. I feel your breath on the skin of my stomach and I goosebump in anticipation of pleasure or the possibility of pain, but I am rewarded with neither as you run a soft trial of warm breath over my nipples and watch them harden for you. My wanting of you is almost unbearable and I almost cry out when you leave the light and return to being a spectator.

I finish pulling off the shirt and stand before you so highly aroused that I can't help but run my hands from my neck over my taut nipples. Pinching them lightly, I groan and struggle with myself to not beg you to fuck me, kiss, me, touch me.

Dropping my hands further still, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and slowly turn to face the wall . I take a deep breath, hoping I can please you and bend slowly removing my shorts as I fold. Gingerly, I step to the side and enjoy the rapid increase in your breathing and the familiar sound of your zipper opening.

Still bent over, I run my hands over my, now completely exposed, buttocks. I know you can see me, and the knowing makes my arousal more apparent as a droplet of moisture seeps from my slit and runs a thin course in inch or so down my leg.

Slowly, I lower myself to all fours and I crawl, cat-like, to the chair you are sitting in. I can smell my own arousal, and as I draw closer to you, I can see yours bulging out of your dusty jeans. I place my hands on your knees and lower my face to your cock inhaling deeply and wait for your next command . . .