The Erotic Writer’s Quandary: Childhood, Adolescent & Discovery

These words from the text are significant and compelling as any that I have ever read…..”But the more interesting question pertains to the writer whose aim is the human condition. In the context of a larger story, or as part of a collection of stories, should stories of sexual awakenings really be off-limits? And if not, then what are the writer’s responsibilities? I would say: Tell the truth. If the writer’s truthful, even if it’s truth in fiction, then readers will recognize their own experience and gain from it. Literature, at its best, expresses our common humanity and that includes childhood and adolescence. It’s hard to see what benefits if so much of our lives, and something that is so important to our lives, is made off-limits. The best literature, and that includes the best erotic literature, ultimately offers us empathy, insight and self-knowledge.”

The Erotic Writer

little-red-riding-hood-pictures-5Most of the publishers I’m familiar with, because of pressure from credit card companies, paypal, etc… won’t touch an erotic story if the “characters” are less than 18—called underage sexual content. Apparently nobody told them what the title of Nabokov’s Lolitameans; and, yes, there’s sex in it. But that’s a literary masterpiece. How about Anne Rice’s Beauty Trilogy?  None (or few) of the characters are 18 or older—considered ephebophilia by those who classify such things.

By the 18 or less standard, the Beauty Trilogy is pedophilia from beginning to end, yet a company like Paypal is seemingly untroubled by Rice’s novel. There’s also My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday, a compendium of women’s fantasies published in the early 70’s. Very explicit underage sex is to be found there (and not just a little bit), including a nine year old’s enjoyment of sex with her uncle. (which…

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Humble Beginnings…

These words shout the passion…….”That fateful evening in July, I lost my virginity and began a journey into decadence, almost possessed with lust. Craving knowledge. Craving experience. Craving sex.”……..Ooooooooh Tess you make me shiver with lust…..

The Tawdry Tales of Tess

The year was 1985.  And I found myself on a deserted dirt road, in the backseat of his white Monte Carlo.  I loved the way his lips felt on mine.  I loved how he gently sucked on my tongue when we kissed.  How he patiently guided me through each step.  After all, it was my first time.  We had been messing around for weeks, but this was it.  This was the night it was going to happen.  We didn’t talk about it, or plan it.  But we both knew.

He picked me up from the skating rink, where my trusting and naive parents had just dropped me off moments before.  I walked with such confidence.  I knew what we were going to do and I felt ready.  I got into his car and we drove to our usual location.  The dirt road was pitch black and I remember how the…

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The Artist and the Client, Chapter 3


I lay there looking at Bernie. He had made me feel so good and now my cock was flaccid. He kissed the tip and and said, “Now what am I gonna do with you?…….I need you hard.” Reaching out I held his balls in my hand, pulling the loose skin, watching as his cock swayed up and down. I leaned into him and licked the tip. Drops of clear pre-cum were oozing out as I continued licking. Taking the head into my mouth, I heard him moan. Bernie grabbed my head gently and held it as he began thrusting in and out, he was fucking my mouth. I loved being held like that, I felt like a cock whore, I loved how that felt. I felt so naughty.

I felt his balls tightening in my hand as I reached around and held his smooth hairless ass. “Ooooooooooh……yes……I……I……I’mmmmmm…..gonna cum G,” he moaned. A few seconds later he was filling my mouth with cum. It shot to the back of my throat and oozed from my lips. Cum was dripping from down my chin as he stepped back and said, “Maybe I should paint you like this……..you’re so sexy with cum dripping from your chin like this…….and Oooooooh my!……I think we solved the issue of you being hard.” We both looked down to see my cock once again hard and ready to pose for what would be a very erotic painting.

Bernie turned and went to stand behind his easel. I watched his mature ass, which I had never seen naked before, wiggle and sway in such an arousing way. His ass was hairless like my own, and perfectly round. I wondered what it would be like to lay on top of him and nestle my cock into the smooth cleft, I wondered if he would raise up a bit and seduce me into slipping my cock into his tight man pussy. I also wondered if thats what he wanted from me. Did he want to take my boy pussy, filling me completely? My cock throbbed thing what it would feel like to be connected to Bernie like that. My mind began wandering back to being with Rene, my boyhood friend. I wondered how much of what we did, did Bernie really see.

I was so aroused once again. I loved what Rene and I had done and now Bernie and I had crossed a bridge. I wondered if his wife knew he loved young naked males and what she would do if she knew. I pondered what his conversation would have been if he told her I was posing nude for him, and if she thought it was just another commission, or if it excited or disgusted her. Might they have been in bed when he brought it up and did she ask him if it aroused him? Did it arouse her? She was always very attentive, a bit flirty with me, and I always assumed it was because they never had children and, she would have loved having a son. I wondered, both thoughts arousing me. It was so naughty him cheating on her in this way, and then he and I doing all we did already and her knowing her hubby would be sucking my cock. Would he tell her later in bed? Would he tell her as he fingered her pussy?

My finger went between my legs as I toyed with my tight hole, teasing it and probing. Something was calling me to go deeper as I inserted it to the next knuckle. I wanted more, I wanted to feel something touch my spot, my prostrate, massaging it as my cock flowed cum. I was in that place where I needed, where I wanted that intense pleasure and I needed it now. I looked over at Bernie and he was standing still, with his brush in one hand and his cock in the other. He was again hard and he was stroking himself slowly, taking in my exhibition. I saw his pleasure and wanted to show him more. I threw my head back, arching my back and thrusting my finger deeper into my boy pussy. It felt amazing. I loved being watched. I loved knowing my body and my actions were being consumed by another in such naughty ways and for their pleasure.

My mind wandered back to Rene. I loved his long thin cock. I loved how it would throb in my hand, and how when he was horny he would call and tell me he needed me, NOW! He did that a lot and sometimes would come over dressed in something sexy. I wondered what he would be doing right now if he only knew I was stretched out naked, posing on Bernie’s chaise with a belly full of a horny artist’s cum. The last time I had been with Rene he greeted me wearing a pair of his sister’s panties, garter belt, and stockings. I loved his feminine side, his need to show it and act upon it. I loved how my cock felt when I took him dressed like that girl he so loved being, and how he would whimper.

“So…….Bernie…..do you do nude paintings often,” I asked, breaking both of us away from our thoughts. “Yes, a fair amount……..I have a group of friends…..who have over time asked for certain special portraits and figure studies…….all commissions of course.” I nodded and hesitated, a bit nervous to ask……… “Does your wife Janet…..know you do these?
“Why do you ask G?” I replied, “Just curious.” Bernie began concentrating on his brush strokes, looking at me, working the canvas and creating the beginnings of was to be a naked young male lying in a very seductive and arousing pose.

Trans Girl, A love affair.

Source: Trans Girl, A love affair.

I posted a new page. Please peek at it…….just sayin’

I’m a pansexual male whose had a love of Transgender for decades. The page is a written account of my experiences over time which began with sexual encounters. Over time one learns many things…..We become educated….We mature and come to embrace the the “whole” of personal experiences, and not simply the shallow desires lying deep with in us. What began as an moment of arousal……has transformed itself and me in many ways. Yes, I am still a male and I still make mistakes in language, after years of listening to conventional “wisdom”…..prejudice, stereotyping….etc. But this life is not built on perfection, it is about progress and embracing differences along the path……this has been part of my journey…….

Or does it just make you damaged?….Adding to the Confusion.

I have thought about my confusion for a long time. Decades. Many times from the victim position. I find that odd as I do not place myself in that position or category, generally speaking in my pedestrian life. But when I reach back and look at my upbringing, As 18 years old male I did not have the clarity to realize my father’s failures objectively. I was constantly hungering for his approval and attention, clouding my understandings of his short comings and struggles. I have far more clarity at 61 years old.

With a father who was oblivious, who didn’t recognize his son as a boy who needed his attention, and when he did it was a competition, I begin to see where my attraction to older males as a younger male resonated. When I think back how my father was always naked at home, a self proclaimed home nudist, and how he flaunted his nakedness. It wasn’t always appropriate. He presented himself in ways that seemed erotic or lewd by conventional wisdom. Seeing him aroused in the bath or on the couch, always intrigued me. I was captivated by his size. I would run to my room and think about what I saw, comparing myself to him physically, and becoming aroused by what I saw. I was given no proper boundaries. I was not taught delay of gratification.

It’s no wonder the first older guy who showed me attention, showed me his cock, and gave me affection,  seduced me quickly. I ran to the  attention he offered. I readily accepted his sexual demands as attention and affection, believing this was intimacy. One day he held a pair of pink panties in front of me and asked me to put them on, I asked, “Can I sit on your lap?” I thought he could fix my past pain and hurt. I believed he would offer  me the love and affection I never had. But really he wanted to see my hard cock tent the front of those soft panties. He wanted my hands bound, as he teased me. making me beg for release. Not much different than my father.

I had mother who doted over her son, making excuse at times for her husband’s short comings. Her unwillingness to  free of herself of her own insecurities, delivering them upon me. Does that say something.? Does it reveal her submissive nature? She allowed my father to take liberties with her body in front of me, by openly accepting the terms of his dominance.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, is that what they say? Or does it just make you damaged?

 

The Girl They Wanted.

I was a young boy when my father made the most hurtful comment. My father was holding me in his arms as he through a scarf over my head and said, “Look……doesn’t he make a pretty little girl.” My mother said, “Oh my…..yes he does.”

I will say it scared me. I will also say I was her little boy and she loved me deeply. I grew into an adolescent and did all the things boys did, normal things like baseball and played army with m,y friends. But I always wanted to please them and felt I came up short in that one way. I wasn’t the little girl my Daddy wanted. He always talked to my girl cousins when we had family gatherings and ignored me. When I got brave enough to confront him, I asked why he ignored me. He response was, “I see you all the time, I rarely see them, so I take the opportunity to be with them”

I never wanted to go to my grandmother’s house for Christmas, my girl cousins would be there and I hated his behavior. I was of course made to go. One night my youngest cousin slept over. She was slightly older than me by a few months. We slept in my room and had a great time as we always did. She and I both changed separately in my room. I remember she changed her pink panties and put on new ones. Her clothes were strewn all over my room. After she had finished it was my turn. I went to my room and saw her pink panties laying on the floor. I’m not sure what caused me to grab them, but I did. I hid them in my closet, deep in some boxes. When I cam out and saw my cousin sitting on my dad’s lap I was so envious. Her tee shirt was pulled up just enough for me to see the white panties she had changed into.

Some days later I had a tee shirt on and I went to get her pink panties. I dug them out from the secret hiding place and put them on. I went out to where my father was sitting and crawled on his lap. He looked at me and asked, “Did you loose your underwear?”

He told me to go change and act like a boy. I was a boy, but for him I wanted to be a girl.

Masturbation

I love to masturbate.

I remember first discovering those delicious feelings even before I related it to anything sexual. It simply felt good. I was compelled to press my groin against the floor, feeling how amazing it was. I would do it constantly. Then one night in bed I discovered my penis was hard and it felt even better touching it without pants on. It never was a chore after that to get me to go to bed, I was eager and restless until I had some moments to touch myself. There was always a point the feelings got so incredible I would trembled. I felt exhausted afterward and usually fell right to sleep.

By now I was snooping in my fathers things. He had boxes  in our basement. My first discoveries were his old National Geographic magazines. The African natives;  bare breasted females with large dark brown nipples were a favorite. I would be so aroused. Then I discovered the art work and illustrations of the ancient world. The Greek and Roman slave auctions where the female slaves were being bought and sold, stripped naked and bound in chains excited me. What really excited me was the hairy growths of pubic hair I saw. I remember clearly one illustration of what was most probably an Arab girl collared and chained, naked with a mass of curls covering her mound. I stroked my penis many times looking at her.

Then puberty hit. Those first pubic hairs that began to grow confused and surprised me me. I was in the locker room at our public pool when an older man commented that I was showing signs of becoming a man. I must have looked at him as if I was questioning his statement. He then whispered I had a few lone hairs down there and then pulled his trunks down showing me his full growth of dark pubic hair. I was memorized by the sight, frozen in place, gazing at his cock and pubic hair. He stood there for what seemed like forever with his swim suit pulled down. I watched as I saw his penis harden and begin to rise. A family entered the locker room and he pulled up his trunks and winked at me, putting his finger to his lips, making the “shhhhhh”……sound. I knew I was not to ever tell a zsoul what had happened. I never said a thing, but I did stroke my cock to the vision of his hard cock. I wondered what it felt like. Secretly I wondered what it would taste like too. I came every time I thought of him taking my head and pulling me to it.

I hated the way I looked. Although I had now an seen older male and wished I had a full growth of hair around my penis, I did like the sparse hairs on my body. I shaved the few hairs I had. It felt so smooth, and added to my desire to touch and caress myself. It was odd how I felt and reacted. I loved seeing full bushes of pubic hair on both mature men and women, but those few hairs I had discussed me. I kept shaving it off. But know I was on a mission to see more. Every time my father took a bath I would sit with him and talk, and look. He seemed to like those moments and I loved them. Once when I walked in his penis was hard, it was sticking above the soapy bubbles and water, the head was a deep purple and shiny. I knew he was masturbating, although he stopped when I walked in. He was quiet and then said….”You touch yourself too I assume……It’s normal.” That was all that was said.

My father was a photographer before he married mom. I had found many images of women who had been photographed naked in the boxes in the basement. It was regular masturbation material for my daily cock stroking sessions. I never judged him, I never thought he was cheating on my mother. I always believed that this is what men did.

Then…….I’m home alone and I see my dad’s leather bag sitting on the stairs to the basement. I had to peek. He always had it in his car and now it’s within my grasp. I opened it and looked inside and found a treasure trove of porn. Not magazines, but real pictures of women. Hairy pussies, older women, many were Polaroids. I was in heaven. I sat there with my pants open, stoking my cock. I came more than once that afternoon.

So began my long journey into pornography and masturbation. It was the gateway to pleasure, and opened my eyes to so many possibilities.

More to cum……