Not my fantasy

When it comes to writing erotica, I tend to stick to things that turn me on personally. Hence, certain themes crop up time and again.

Strangers. Non consent. Anal.

But recently, my heroine seems to be branching out, which, given the above, probably means that I am too.

I submitted something to my writing group in which the two main characters have sex near a window. The comments that came back largely suggested I was giving the impression that the heroine was only happy to do so because she wanted to fuck the hero. The exhibitionist streak? All him.

I think my heroine is no more honest than I am.

It’s true that exhibitionist behaviour doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m much more about dark alleyways, dim lighting and taking it upstairs. That said, when I have had sex and been on show, it’s almost always been hot. Well, apart from the time I was wearing jeans.

Shortly after I moved into my current house, the boy and I fucked on the sofa. The people who sold me the house explained the lack of curtains on the front window thus:

‘If we want privacy, we go outside and close the shutters.’

I’d love to think they were the kind of people who used closing the shutters as a sign to one another that they were horny, but I’m pretty certain they weren’t. An example: when I moved in, I found a bag of nails in my wardrobe labelled ‘Neil’s bed.’ Seriously. Neil wasn’t yet thirty, and already he’d been banished to the spare room.

Anyway, the boy and I fucked on the sofa, one Saturday afternoon, without closing the shutters. One minute we were kissing, the next, his jeans were wide open and I was straddling him. I was still wearing my dress, so anyone who looked in couldn’t have been sure of what we were doing, but, as he pointed out, kissing is a good way of increasing that uncertainty. The problem was that as soon as he was inside me, I forgot everything apart from how good his cock felt.

‘Hey,’ he reminded me, as I rode him, ‘If you don’t kiss me, it won’t look like we’re kissing.’

So I kissed him. It’s never exactly a fucking hardship.

 

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3 thoughts on “Not my fantasy

  1. Pingback: Asking for Trouble | Sex blog (of sorts)

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