Why this Blog?

I hope that this blog will become a place to look after my writing ideas and that, over time, I can use it to archive all my favourite creative sites on the web. Maybe others will enjoy it too.

Saturday, 20 April 2013

So NSFW it's untrue

I recommend that you don't read this at all if you are in a place that would track your internet usage. I haven't written for a while, work stuff, and I wanted to get back into the swing of things. I also wanted to get back to St Avril and, obviously, that didn't happen. Since when do I write what I actually set out to write? Instead I ended up thinking of the Prehistoric setting and trying again to get into the head of my female protagonist. I think I have Moon Dancer now and I think I know how he works and what I would like to do with his part of the story, at least insofar as I understand what the story is.

No, with the females I am less convinced. So... I wrote my very first sex scene. Well, no, not quite. I wrote one at the age of 16, when on exchange in Germany, and as angsty teen it was was unrealistic and ended in a murder. The woman kills the man, just because. I never did work out why, it was brutal and angsty and... well, I was a teen. Anyway, it turns out to be really difficult to write feelings in sex in actual words. I did my best.

Rating: R (sexual content, violence[?] and swearing[?]) The first I get, the rest I don't.

Feeling mostly upset(?) in a dead heat with happy, and concerned mostly about religion

Mindset: Extrovert - Positive - Uncertain - Thinking

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and Them: Them

37 minutes at 44 words per minute





It started simply enough, with the rubbing of one another's bodies in the cold night air, the wind kept at bay by the bundles of wood that formed a break and the roof of thatch provided from the wheat. Beneath them she fancied she could hear the lapping of the stagnant water against the tall stilts that raised the small nest above the water that met the land of the Fens. He was warm to the touch, saying nothing, but she could see his smile in the faint moonlight and knew that he was glad to be with her again.

It had been three cycles since his last visit, returning with news of the far clans and the hunt in the frozen wastes of mammoth for wool and meat. In the evening he had played for them on his hollow log, joined by some of the women and children on drums that they had fashioned from tree stumps or small stones, amazing all with the sound that he could now make. Now that skill was being put to a different use as he tentatively tried to remember what worked and what did not after so long apart. At first they had simply kissed, he laying on her, and she had enjoyed just the touch of his skin on hers once again. His mouth found hers, opened and they had enjoyed some play between the tongues, the taste of his saliva evoking a sense memory of pleasure and safety.

"My gift," he had said, "Is my body."

"It is acceptable," she replied, "My warmth to you for the offering."

A ritual, but one that was pleasing, now mirrored in the way she felt his penis rising against her, causing him to faintly rub her clitoris in a way that was at once arousing and relaxing. Smiling, she reached behind him to run her hands up and down his back, feeling the skin there and the sweat, knowing what was traced in ink but unable to discern it out of sight. Feeling her way by touch, letting him do the same, and surrendering to the darkness and the light behind her eyelids.

"Your gift is very acceptable," she whispered playfully, "What is it that I can offer to you?"

He had already removed the skins that covered him and the fur cloak that he used to fend off the cold wind lay forgotten at the doorway. Pushing hands had meant that her own skins were now gathered around her breasts and the rest of her lay naked. "Anything that is in your generosity to give." And he leaned in again and kissed her softly, she felt his teeth lightly bite her lip and responded with a slow arch of her back, letting the feelings wash over her.

The smell of him was pleasant for the moment, his odour and the dust of his travels, the exotic scent of flowers and oils that were not known in the Fens mingling with his own musk kept with him in his hair. The feel of his bare back, so different to most of the males that visited the clan, and the hair on his legs so thick and soft on her hands and feet. She began to part her legs for him, letting him settle between them and his hands to carefully take her weight behind. And then she felt him enter her slowly and just a small amount, causing her to gasp quietly and close her eyes to better focus on the sensation.

In the dark there was just that feeling. A small entrance, slow and comfortable, the tickle of his pubic hair on her clitoris and the wetness of her vaginal passage increasing to accommodate him. Her hands, unbidden, went down to his buttocks, grasping one each and then slowly, oh so slowly, pulling them to her to better assist his movements. Without any other communication Moon Dancer understood and moved in further, she dictated the rhythm, matching the one that had been beaten on the drums in the evening once again, finding his mouth, biting his lip lightly and letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth.

"Like that," she said, aware that she was without her usual breath, "And then keep going."

He did. She let him. Inside she could feel her own heat building, from somewhere in the centre of her being she could feel the fires stoking and rising into full flame. His hands caught her hair, fists grabbing it as he knew she liked, and she could feel the first stirrings of what was to come. Reaching up, she caught his wrist and pulled his hand down on hers, then repeated this with the other hand, so that he held both of her hands down by her head. It was the feeling she was after, the strength and the power of the male atop her coupled with the strength and the power below that she wielded. Feeling his penis, erect and firm, moving at the rhythm she set and the rubbing of his body over the end of the clitoris just enough to set her to panting as she had expected.

She let it continue for a time, losing sense of how long and losing the need to keep track, letting the waves of warmth and happiness flow around her in the coastal sands of her mind. The roar of the waves descending into the sucking of the sea against the stones as the water receded. Salty winds made moan through her throat and she guided his hand to her clitoris as he moved to her rhythm. He was close too, she could hear his breathing becoming ragged as it did in males not from physical effort but from the intensity of it.

She felt his fingers touch. "Yes, and now move it."

He did. Again the pace was set, and again she found it matched her mood, bucking her hips as he bucked his to intensify the feeling. Juices flowed below, a new smell in the air of sex and passion, pricking her nostrils and setting the musk of him to flight almost instantly but in the same way that flocks of birds moved at dusk, coming and going, as though great shapes were created and lost. Kissing again, his tongue on hers, his saliva tasting faintly of spices and food that she had not eaten, eyes closed and darkness abounding. His hand moved, rough skin against her, she became aware that it would become almost painful and so shook her head, took his head and firmly pushed him down.

Following her direction she felt his tongue again, wetness on the heat and the raw end, her own juices now flowing enough that she could feel them being used, up and over, to better lubricate the sensations. Throwing back her head, feeling her hair and the air against her own glistening body, she focussed on the feeling of warmth from the fire of her spirit rising and falling, tickling and pricking. He knew what to do, she had taught him well, and his hands were even now working over her body. Lifting a leg, she used her foot to touch his penis, then joined it with the other to keep working there and maintain his own passion so that they could finish the job together.

It came. Explosions in her vision, colour darting across her eyelids like strikes of lightning across the sky, a moment where the world seemed to fade away. Around her reality peeled back and she tore into the spirit realm, aware of their gaze and the presence of the Great Spirit watching it all, a place of intense feeling that rendered her senses useless and uninspiring: time ceased to have any meaning and she crested the waves that rose up and broke away from the shore of that hut in the Fens. From somewhere far off she heard her voice, not loud but making her pleasure known, and was aware of his tongue. Hands clenched, she knew they did but did not know how she did, and pulled his head closer, holding it in place.

Then she was back, her grip released and he moved automatically to bring himself back in, to raise his head and replace his hand. The rip in reality moved, but did not diminish and she felt him jerking in that peculiarly male fashion as she moved in and out of the hut, her spirit roaming and her moans joining his until both were done. The job was finished and the mystery complete.

It could have been a moment or it could have been a whole cycle that they lay after that, entwined in one another, enjoying the shared warmth and the euphoria that followed sex. Spent and glowing she let him rest on her, turning so both shared the floor again, his penis still inside and held, letting the warmth of him join the warmth in her.

After the end of the world, or at the birth of the Universe, she spoke. "It is how it is. The great magick of the female is to give life but without the man it cannot be completed." It was how it had been told her and now she felt he must know. "The semen breaks forth, joins my body and forms the dam. The river in me, the life-giving blood of the cycle, is stemmed and stopped. On the fertile banks of its course it settles and grows, joined by more and more over many cycles until it forms enough to give life. The spirit enters during that time, the spirit animates and then the dam breaks down. It is then that life enters our world from that one." Chewing her lip felt comfortable, reminding her that she was rooted in the world after the experience of beyond. "My warmth to you."

"My gift is my semen," smiled Moon Dancer, "May it bring forth life from you."