Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Erotica Re-Write: Cold Night - A

Something that I always wanted to try was to go back and re-write some of the erotica from our old blog, adding in notes and comments, editing them and bringing the writing and sex up to my standards of today. I may even have S and I trade off on re-writing and re-editing some of each other's old works as a challenge.

All the original writings are online at , but I encourage all readers to read the version on this blog only. It will reflect the spirit of the original, while being better written and more in line with who the author is today. I am also going to strive to make sure that I interject my thoughts, for my sake, S's, and the reader's. Part of this blog is meant to help me open up, I'm not the best at speaking. 

Any italicized phrases are my own thoughts and feelings, not part of the story.


(The following erotica was written after an outdoor show I worked the day before halloween. I wrote it late at night, and I wanted it to be the first one I edited. It really reflected how I felt at the moment, and a bit of how I feel now: equal parts desire, bittersweet, and fantasy. I believe I didn't get to see S for another day after writing this, so it reflected that separation as well. And to those who think that I am being dramatic about the cold, I am a Texan. We don't do cold weather.)  

It's a cold night outside. 
It's a cold night outside. 
And I'm outside. 
And I'm cold.

I'm wearing fingerless gloves that helped me run the thick power cabling all night, draping it over the concrete parking lot to power on the rides and toys for the children running around dressed as princesses, firemen, and all other sorts of idolized characters. My thick coat helped me survive the chill, and retained a pleasant smell of metal and wood from the setup and teardown of the amusements. I traipsed across, my breath a fog, my feet heavy in my boots, my jeans dusty. The other workers left don't acknowledge me when I crossed paths with them, and I returned the courtesy. We didn't want to talk, really. We wanted to think, work, and then sleep. 

I kneel and wrap another cable up. Over, under, over, under, to preserve the life and prevent breakages. Over, under, over, under.... My life for the last hour of my workday. The moon is nearly full, and large. I wonder why it's so low on the horizon at this hour.

I tramp across the parking lot, deposit the cable next to a dis-assembled carmel apple stand, and walk back to a tent to continue wrapping more leftover cables. The lighted "Fall Festival" sign came down a long time ago, and the yellow lamp lights keep us moving. Over, under, over, under....

(I was unusually proud of my description at the time, and I see why. I've added and clarified it, but most of it still remains, and it really did make me feel like I was back at the gig, freezing and tired. It doesn't hurt that the weather is just now cooling down here, and I'm anticipating the cool weather with a mix of gratefulness and apprehension.) 


I start the car and sigh. After 500 cables, miles of walking, 3 screw-ups to cover up, and 2 cups of cider, I can go home. I pull out and spend the next ten minutes driving quietly. The hum of the tires is the soundtrack for my drive, the roads empty and peaceful. A fat cop passes me with a wave, a stray dog runs from the beams of my headlights. My phone vibrates when I'm pulling up to my door, my car casting stark shadows.

"Come on over! I need some company - S."

I sigh with emphasis and put the car in drive. S. can be high-maintenance sometimes, and I know better than to ignore the request. But.... I'll still be able to grab a hot shower to get rid of the cold inside of me, and maybe some food at her place. I guess my dramatic sigh wasn't needed. I take a moment, sigh with much less emphasis, and pull away from the curb. I let the street lamps take me to her house, the orange glow of old lamps 

I pull up, grab my pack and heave my chilled bones out of the car. I shuffle up to the door and push it open. I figured it wouldn't be locked. 

I slowly walk up the stairs. The house is quiet, and the lights are off. The family S. is staying with are on a winter vacation, but I expected her to be up and coming to greet me. I walk to the end of the hall, my feet moving slower than usual. I open the door and am greeted by....

S. and S's room. And nothing is normal.

(This passage originally included S blowing glitter in my face. I realized re-reading this that glitter in my face would suck, and S would never let it get all over her room like that. I've also noticed that I used to put a period after "S", making her name "S.". I think I'll continue to not use it. It makes it easier to end sentences with our names, and doesn't clutter the sentence as much.)

The moment makes me stop in shock. I just went from working hard in the cold to walking into what looks like someone's room, someone who isn't S. Her laugh brings me back, and I blink my eyes. The scene is surreal. I'm clearly dreaming. 

To the right, S's bed is covered in pillows and devoid of the usual blankets. To the left, a few warm lights are grouped, bathing the room in an amber glow. The floor is a mess of panties, bras, all manner of girly and sexy things. A set of speakers normally on her bedside table is sitting on the floor. And in the center of it all, there is one folding chair facing a floor-to-ceiling pole.

S is to one side of the pole, her leg wrapped around it. Her hair is wild and tangled. Her eyes are done in super-dark, bold makeup. She is wearing a sheer black lace tank top, one that clings to her like a second skin. Underneath are some red panties that make her ass pop, a stark contrast that created even more curves than she already has. As far as I can tell, there isn't a bra holding back her large breasts. I look her up and down, a smile growing. The chill in my bones is still there, but my skin is feeling flushed. She glares and smiles at the same time, a wicked look.

"Sit down, dear."

I see no reason to protest. My drive over now seemed entirely worth it. 

(I don't know why I made such a huge deal about driving over in the original writing, but the text was littered with references to being annoyed about having to come over. I suspect that I wrote this soon after being forced to drive somewhere and do something with S that I didn't really want to. Thankfully, I now take more joy in seeing her than the "I" of this story.)

I sit, and she starts a song. A s sultry tune with a female lead. The track is loud with thumping bass and punctuated by the singer moaning and gasping phrases like "Oh, yeah!"

(The song was inspired by Britney Spear's "Piece of Me". I was recently talking about it with S, saying that it belonged on a sex playlist. Interesting to see my taste hasn't changed over time! I've been looking for more songs like it, with sexy female moans over a driving beat, without much luck.)

S. spins and bends over slowly, letting her ass trace a circle in the air. She looks over her shoulder with a wicked look and runs a finger over her crotch and down her leg. She straightens just as slowly, and walks a slow circle, as the song bursts into a chorus of sensual guitars and moans from the girl.

S. massages her curves and slowly sinks into a sitting pose down in front of me, her legs splayed. She teases me by moving between sultry poses, different focuses coming and going. Already tired, I feel like I'm in a dream of tits and ass, my mind fuzzy. 

(My terrible attempts at foreshadowing.)

Just as slowly as before, she stands and walks to the pole. She swings twice around the metal, gyrating her hips in small orbits. My mouth waters as she comes to a stop with her back against the pole, facing me. 

Her legs bend and move further from the poles, and S arches her back and bends over slightly. Her mouth makes a little "o" as the cool metal touches the edge of her vulva through her panties. She pulses her body up and down in rhythm, rubbing herself and playing up her own arousal for me. 

My cock has grown hard and strains against the jeans. I've grown slightly thicker in the past months, and it has made hiding an erection next to impossible. S. sees, and smiles. Before I know what's happened, she's walked over and ripped most of my clothes off. My black boxers do a horrible job of hiding my dick, and S. isn't blind. Her eyes widen a little at the bulge, but she quickly recovers. She bends forward, letting her breasts ripple with the movements. I am pushed back by my shoulders, and she rubs her body up mine. The song begins to build more heat, the singer clearly in ecstasy,  the musicians helping her reach climax.

(This passage was interesting for me, because I had forgotten about still going through some growth. I had finished puberty years before, but I do remember a second period of changes. I had been going to the gym and actually lifting for the first time in my life, and it seemed to jump start some more hair growth and a slight increase in penis size. I noticed growth that continued well into the next two years, and seems to have slowed down finally. I'm a bit relieved because I've been looking into custom fit condoms, so this will allow me to order some in bulk. I'll post a review after I get my sample pack.)

S. spins, and gives me a lewd show of a dance. Her moans accompany her whole body moving. She spanks herself, fondles herself, and movies just right to make me pant with desire. My cock flexes and grows almost painfully hard, and she notices. Before her next revolution, she sits low and pushes her ass right onto my bulge. She gasps as the width spreads her open, her panties stretched. She moves in sensual circles, moaning as I let sounds of pleasure escape my lips. My cock is being caressed by her softness, and I love every second of it.

She strips her shirt off, and my hands find her breasts immediately  They are warm and cooperative today, letting me create ripples and waves. I fondle them as she moves harder, her body less graceful and more instinctively hungry at this point. Her pussy throbs against me when it passes over my cock, making me harder. I moan and pull her around just the way I like, letting every body part get a chance. I'm so desperate to fuck this bitch....

(I love to watch S's breasts throughout her monthly hormonal cycle. They change shape, size, texture, and firmness. The "mood" described here is one of my favorites, where they respond to any small push by jiggling and rippling uncontrollably.)

She gets up and makes a move for the pole. I can't take the tease anymore! I spring up and grab her, throwing her onto the bed of pillows face first. She gasps, my cock is out, her panties slide down over her ass and legs, I line up, S moans and begs for me to fuck her, and I push with all my might to give my fat, throbbing cock to her wet pussy, and just as I pass through her deliciously full lips...

I wake with a gasp in my car. I sit up and try to will my mind to focus and my eyes to clear. I'm in my car, the engine running, alone in the parking lot by the venue I worked that night. I sit up and take a deep breath. I must have dozed off...

I put the car in drive, sit up and stretch my neck, and pull out onto the dark highway. I share it with one or two other cars, the drivers equally sleepy. The radio remains off, I'd prefer to listen to the sound the cool air makes over my windshield.

I pull up to my house, the headlights casting stark shadows of the bushes and trees from the yard. I sigh, same as before, and look at my phone. No messages wait for me. My beautiful partner went to sleep well over an hour ago, and is warm and dreaming. 

My backpack goes over my shoulder, my car beeps as I lock it, and I walk up to my front door. I turn the bronze lock quietly and make straight for the bathroom. Food can wait, but the cold in my bones is feeling heavier by the second.

I turn on the hot water and sit on the tiled floor, letting it pour over me. I don't think I want to get out. My head falls against the wall, and I close my eyes.