The Randomness Of Selina : Year 2 Day 20 – Erotica Writers Don’t Want To Fuck You

I’ve mentioned it before but it appears some aren’t getting the message.

So, for the benefit of the people at the back let me repeat myself

Erotica writers don’t want to fuck you.

I should just have to stop there and say no more. After all, erotica is a legitimate literary genre then basically you are asking an author for sex.

That really isn’t good form. I mean you might have the opportunity to meet your favourite author at a bookshop. You will probably say to them what the story meant to you, get the book signed and that’s it.

You wouldn’t pause and say ‘Aaand so you fancy nipping out the back for a quickie.’

Yet that it exactly what erotica authors have to deal with on a daily basis, and it can be exhausting.

Many will receive messages that go something like this

– Just read your story. You’re a great writer.

– Thank you very much.

– The sex scenes were so hot.

– Thank you

– I got very aroused

– Okay

– I’m still hard now so…..

Look I know there is a growing sense of entitlement with consumers of entertainment but this really takes it to the extreme.

These horny guys are basically saying ‘How dare you arrange words in a carefully constructed sentence which has led to me having an erection. You are now responsible for it!’

It doesn’t happen in other genres. I stand to be corrected but I doubt that Stephen King gets loads of messages that says ‘That story was really scary. Now you must come round my house, check under my bed and sing my a lullaby until I’m asleep.’

There is a horrifically incorrect assumption that because a female erotica writer writes about sex she must be very much up for it.

If you honestly believe that then get your hand off your dick and listen up – erotica is mainly the work of glorious fiction. They are stories not invitations.

Writers like to engage with readers. It allows them to grow and improve. They just don’t want to see your dick with a request to fuck it.

Respect the writer’s boundaries. Unless a writer has in her bio ‘will fuck for reviews’ then understand the obvious etiquette.

Do not get sleazy in her DMs. Do not assume because they write about sex they are happy to talk about it in detail while you have a cheeky wank.

Just be normal. Just read their work, say if you liked it and leave it there.

We clear?

The Thoughts Of Selina II : Violence Good. Sex Bad

Following on from my Opinion on the present state of the Erotica genre I wanted to explore a little further a particular theme surrounding that.

I absolutely love Star Wars but fun fact after watching the entire saga you would have witnessed the death of trillions of people.

But that’s okay because it’s never really gratuitous. Sure genocide occurs, millions of people wiped out but it’s ‘oh well. When they going to start shooting stormtroopers again?’

The body count for The Fast and The Furious franchise runs into the hundreds. The violence in those movies are undeniably gratuitous, they add nothing to the storyline and only serves to makes those scenes more action packed.

But gratuitous doesn’t mean explicit. It’s comic book violence and is totally acceptable. Plus a lot of them were bad guys and deserved to die.

Yet movies such as Kick Ass and any Tarantino film contain gruesome scenes of violence. They are depicted in such a way that it leads very little to the imagination.

Indeed often they are both gratuitous and explicit. Yet these movies are lauded as being fantastic works of art, scoring highly on Rotten Tomatoes.

These random acts of gratuitous explicit violence are not limited to movies and are also a plot device in both comic books and literature.

But these are harmless action and adventure stories. We don’t need to know the socio-economic reasons which led a particular person to become a henchman for some evil bastard. He speaks with a foreign accent , he’s got a gun, he deserves to die.

That’s right isn’t it? It’s just a bit of fun. These scenes are infrequent and whilst not necessary they are, after all, exciting…..Lighten up it’s escapism.

And I would agree. There are far more qualified people around to comment on the reasons for our desensitisation to violence and it’s not the point of this opinion.

My point is, if it’s okay with violence then why don’t we have the same attitude towards sex?

Romance or chick lit stories often opt for the ‘Star Wars Implied Genocide Method’. We lead up to the sex but never really see it.

Just as we never saw all the kids playing on Alderaan before it was obliterated or witness janitor Clive’s final day before retirement on the Death Star, dreaming of spending more time with his grandchildren before Luke blew him up.

In a lot of thrillers and chick lit the main character may be having frequent gratuitous sex. But that is still okay because it’s not explicit, right?

Yet the moment you describe in detail the natural act of lovemaking and dare to mention words like ‘cock’ or ‘pussy’. The Erotica label is slapped on it and you are banished to the corner.

(Well that’s not exactly true – if you are an independent author you’ll be punished. The differing attitude towards mainstream authors is a whole other story.)

Look I get that some readers don’t like sex scenes. But that’s not the point. I don’t like Thomas Hardy novels, it doesn’t mean I’m advocating banishing all his work from ever being found on internet searches.

We all have our own preferences and tolerances of what we read and watch. Yet as previously discussed Erotica is automatically labelled as wrong. Dirty. Disgusting.

You want to watch a guy kill hundreds of people (including scores of collateral damage) then grab a beer and settle down. You want to watch people have sex then please leave town you depraved monster.

There is a continuing movement to push ‘porn’ further into the dark recesses of the web. If Governments get their way it will become more and more difficult to watch porn. Those who write under the erotica category are and will continue to find themselves caught up with this apparent cleansing of the internet.

However, on the likes of YouTube all the gratuitous explicit violent scenes from these mainstream movies are just a click away.

Sorry Explicit Sex Scene is blocked but you may wish to watch Top Ten Best Gruesome Action Movie Deaths Of All Time.

Violence good. Sex bad.

Yet sex is the most natural thing in the world. As I write this people are having sex. As you read this people are having sex.

Whilst I accept that there are also acts of violence being carried out at the same time, what is so wrong with escaping to a place where people are having sex?

Why is it fine that you can freely and without judgement enter a world where non-descript prostitutes are murdered as a cheap plot device, yet to explicitly describe the growing sexual relationship of a couple is disgusting.

And if you dare make that couple the same sex….Boy, have you crossed a line. Away with you must go, you purveyor of absolute filth.

Well written ‘erotica’ explores something that can’t be achieved by implied sex – how that person feels at the time.

Whether it be positive thoughts of desire, lust, happiness and passion or more negative concerns such as disgust or regret, they form part of the story. It maybe explicit but it’s not gratuitous. It is an exploration of their character.

If it’s justified to show explicit violence to further a plot then the same courtesy has to be extended to sex scenes.

Whilst some will include an explicit sex scene just to simply evoke arousal that cannot be said of every story that features an explicit sex scene. Yet the likes of Amazon will, for the sole reason it is simply explicit, banish it to the dark corners of it’s site.

The truth is everyone thinks about sex. People are rightly curious about sex and well written ‘erotica’ can provide some comfort, offer some answers; Rather than send them down the rabbit hole of depravity it can help them process their own emotions and attitudes towards sex. It is a positive thing.

Being positive about our sexuality is something that should be encouraged and not hidden away in the corner.

At some point in our lives we will all have been curious about sex. The same cannot be said for being curious about standing on a moving bus and taking out two vehicles with a rocket launcher.

If you are curious about that then you really need to be having sex.

The Thoughts Of Selina I: The Future Of Erotica & The Need For A Purge

In my continuing quest to make this blog a wonderful place to be I thought I would occasionally throw in the odd opinion about some topic.

For my opening attempt I want to look at the current state of Erotica.

Those writing in this genre are having a bit of a hard time recently with the forums for their work seemingly burying it as deep as they possibly can.

If this continues then it will be so difficult to find an erotica writer’s writing. This would be for the simple reason it has a bit of sex in it.

Erotica has enjoyed a bit of a golden period mainly in part to a combination of the phenomenon of Fifty Shades and Amazon KDP.

Fifty Shades was a huge success and no one can take that away from the author – well done to her. But let’s be honest, it’s a bit rubbish. A repetitive diatribe of grammatically incorrect erotic cliche. In short, she’s done alright but in the long term has done the genre more harm than good.

I have no doubt that people sitting at home thought ‘I can do that’ because certainly Fifty Shades is hardly an unobtainable literary masterpiece. Yet that has proven to be a problem.

Scores of wannabe writers with not much respect for the genre looking to make a quick buck with some crudely written smut

With Amazon KDP it provided those people the opportunity to do that. But the unforeseen consequence of tapping into this phenomenon is there is a lot of noise. That makes it difficult for any indie author with a great story to get heard.

It’s hard for a self published author. They have to do everything – writing, cover art and their own marketing often with the most limited of budget.

So I offer this thought what if Amazon etc just did away with the Erotica category. Even further that erotica or smut were not terms to be used to describe a book.

It would be terrible, right? How would you find your target audience?

In my opinion I think it would be the best thing that could happen.

Firstly it would do away with the dabblers. Those cluttering up the bandwidth with poorly written erotica short stories that really are nothing more than crudely created sex scenes.

A purge would leave those who actually want to do this, who care about writing, who are good at it still standing.

The massive problem with Amazon KDP is nothing goes out of print. There’s too much choice and consumers don’t like that and so opt for the safety of the mainstream.

If it were up to me I would have all ebooks published have a shelf life which when expired would have to be renewed by the author.

Thousands and thousands of stories keep entering the system and never go away.

Imagine walking into a book shop where every book ever written was published – a delight for some but a horror for the vast majority. They simply would not know where to start.

Secondly, should there even be an erotica category? What actually is it?

Well, erotica has many definitions but loosely it is a work of art designed to be sexually arousing.

So those one sex scene short stories I was talking about , yeh they are probably erotica but does that term apply to anything that may have an explicit sex scene in it?

That can’t be right. If you’re a guy and get a boner to a James Patterson sexy thriller is he now erotica?

I am proudly part of a community on Twitter of some of the most talented indie author who largely write under the erotica category.

I certainly do not speak for them but I would guess that a large number of them publish under erotica for fear of falling foul of the strict guidelines on content.

But are they writing erotica? No. They write romance, thrillers, horrors, sci-fi. Yet their stories include explicit sex scenes and so banished to the dark corner of Amazon they must go.

My current story A Song Of Tyler & Bryce begun life as a satire that those authors are labelled as inappropriate and hid away yet George RR Martin is lauded for stories that include incest, under age sex and plentiful non consensual sex.

If an indie author wrote those themes in a modern day setting they would be punished. Yet set it in fake olden times it’s perfectly acceptable.

I would also add that not once following the non-consensual sex does Martin ever explore how the woman may be feeling. Yet the big bad band of erotica writers dare to tell you what is on her mind before, during and after sex and they find themselves banished to the corner.

Whilst we could get angry about the injustice of this ludicrous hypocrisy I believe we should take note.

I refuse to accept that this world is made up of nothing but prudes. Mainstream literature, TV and film is littered with sex scenes. Overall society doesn’t seem to have a problem with sex.

You watch any HBO drama and the main characters are banging away whenever they can. Yet that wins Emmy’s

I believe it’s time to recategorise our work. If it is set in fake olden times it’s Fantasy. Modern Day it’s romance. A dark twist it’s a thriller or horror. They’re fucking in space it’s Sci-Fi.

Yes put the warnings that it contains explicit scenes (that would make you a better person than George RR Martin), change your cover to make it more, shall we say, user friendly.

If indeed there is a battle looming then prepare now. Play them at their own game.

If you are reading this and thinking but all I have to sell my book is a hot sex scene, then you may struggle if this trend continues (and I would suggest it’s only going to get worse).

But review your work, revise it. That’s the beauty of Amazon KDP etc your story can evolve.

Ask yourself can I add some scenes leading up to the explicit sex. In other words make it more mainstream.

Because Amazon etc cannot censor you for having an explicit sex scene. It’s a slippery slope that would have to include mainstream authors (including one Mr Martin) so it’s never going to happen.

My advice is to welcome a purge. Let’s encourage a reduction of noise and get your stories out there where they should be. Not buried because of some archaic categorisation but available to read.

Rightly or wrongly there is still a stigma about erotica – that it is cheap, nasty, dirty.

That is not how I view the stories I have read. They are well plotted, thought provoking with strong characters who are often female.

Yes they have explicit sex in it. But so fucking what. So does Game of Thrones.

The Recipe Of Selina

My blog has had something of a refit and during the process I thought to myself why can’t I be like all the other bloggers. You know the ones who blog about fashion or food.

I fear my reputation as a blogger may be limited to writing smutty things…..and squirrels.

So in order to diversify I’m going to tell you how to make a glorious Tiramisu Gateau.

Which is very simple to make and I’m sure I can tell you how to do it without being rude. So here it goes

INGREDIENTS

25g butter, melted

4 medium eggs

165g caster sugar

100g plain flour

15g cornflour

200g plain chocolate

150 ml very strong coffee

100ml Tia Maria

300ml Double Cream

1/2 tablespoon of vanilla essence.

500g marscapone at room temperature. You might have your rooms very cold or really hot so no clue what constitutes ‘room temperature’.

METHOD

Preheat the over to 180 degrees Celsius or 160 if you have a fan (I presume that’s a fan assisted oven and not that you have someone who always likes your Tweets). Anyway it’s Gas Mark 4…Yeh no clue either.

So next you need to grease up a 22cm cake tin (preferably the springform one). So I really want you to lubricate it. That’s it let your fingers move over the lubrication. Feels good doesn’t it? It’s always important to lubricate well

Next put the eggs and 115g of the sugar in a bowl and whisk until pale, thick and creamy. Mmm just look at that creamy goodness. You just want to feel it on your tongue don’t you? Not yet.

Sieve the flour and cornflour together then stick half of it in that glorious creamy mix. Put in half the butter and the rest of the flour followed by the remaining butter.

Pour into a tin and bake for 20-25 minutes. While you are waiting why not slip out your generic e-reader and indulge into some naughty erotica. For this particular dessert I would recommend some Amber or if your fan assisted Dani

There is a good chance you may have become distracted and so repeat the above.

When golden you need to let it cool. So why not chill out and read my Overlord Unicorned Squirrels

Okay back to it.

Grate the chocolate. Mix the coffee and the Tia Maria together.

Cut the cake into 3 layers. Line the base and sides with cling film.

Now using the whisk I want you to really whip that cream, vanilla and remaining sugar to soft peaks then fold into the marscapone. Talking about vanilla, you know what’s not vanilla? stuff that Wednesday writes.

You may wish to consult these books from Harley about best whipping techniques.

So really whip it …. that’s it… Harder! Don’t stop….Keep going…Harder…… So good. Don’t you ever fucking stop doing that. That’s it. More. More. MORE!!!Mmmm I love it when you do it like that.

You want to do it some more? Do you? Yeh you got it in you? Mmmm , well go on then. I see you all flushed there thinking about my soft peaks.

Next, place 1 sponge layer in the base. Sprinkle over about a third of the coffee mix, then spread with a third of the marscapone mix.

That’s it really spread it. Mmmm look at you spreading that creamy mixture everywhere. Mmmm just want to lick it all up.

Next sprinkle over a third of the chocolate. Repeat twice.

Yeh, that’s right you keep sprinkling and spreading that goodness. Make sure you cover everywhere. You got enough to do that, baby? Mmmm good you sprinkle that sweet stuff till there is no more left.

Then just chill for two hours. So pop on Netflix or have sex or just masturbate. Whatever you wish because the cake is done.

You know what I think this new more sensible blog worked really well.

The Saving of Selina 

Six months. That is how long I was with Keith, checking off the items  from his naughty bucket list.

I was feeling rather upbeat about this arrangement. I had seen the list, we had agreed upon which ones I would do plus Keith had promised it would be more than just sex.

On that front he was certainly true to his word, treating me to lavish meals, nights out at the theatre and whatever else I cared to ask for. I even managed to drag him along to a comic convention, where he spent most of the time gazing at the variety of cosplayers before promptly amending his sex bucket list.

Keith ,I don’t remember ‘ must be dressed as Batgirl’ on this one?’

It wasn’t the case that he would take me out somewhere as a reward for a sterling sexual performance. Indeed, sometimes he just wanted to have my company during a meal.

No Keith, a guy buys me dinner then I suck his cock..Thats how it works, right?’ 

Whilst it was all rather gentlemanly of him I was concerned that he was becoming too attached. That was certainly something I wished to avoid. I had no intention of being a slutty stepmother to someone who was the same age as me.

No matter how kind, attentive and considerate Keith may have been I was not after any relationship. Although he was showing me how a guy should treat a girl I was more focused on seeing through my part of the deal. I was determined that neither of us would renege on our agreement; even if regular lunch at the Savoy was quite pleasant.

The first of Keith’s fantasies to be fulfilled was to have sex in his office. He had it all planned; indeed, Keith would often brief me as to expectations of the fantasy. I did not mind,  as such was his innocent charm,  I found it mildly amusing as he bumbled over describing the sex act he wanted performed. Sometimes, I would play dumb or pretend I hadn’t heard something so he’d have to repeat it again.

The only slight downside to Keith’s pre-sex briefings (or pervy priming as I affectionately referred to them) was that the events lacked an element of spontaneity.

So when I arrived in his office,  wearing a long overcoat to disguise the fact that underneath was nothing more than bra, panties and stockings, I was immediately struck by how empty and tidy his desk was.

Keith had confirmed during the briefing that were going to have sex on his desk.  Clearly, he had spent the time when everyone else had gone home to put everything neatly away.

There was to be no passionate sweeping of papers as we ripped each other’s clothes off.  No, it was all choreographed to the point I had expected to see markings on the desk like some horny game of Twister.

Sorry, does my left buttock go here?’

Nevertheless the creator of these fantasies was having a wonderful time. I had reconciled previously that I would never experience true sexual pleasure. My role in all this was to facilitate someone else’s carnal desires and I was genuinely happy with that arrangement.

If I hadn’t been performing these well planned erotic adventures I would be having some random guy between my legs for no other reason than I felt compelled to do so. This was far more pleasant.

Of course such was my reliance on Keith’s briefings that I didn’t really do much thinking for myself. So as he got his breath back following his orgasm he suggested we go have some dinner.

“But I’m just in my underwear Keith” I pointed out.

“Oh” he replied “Did you not bring a change of clothes?”

As the months went on I felt the happiest I had been for a long time. My mind was flourishing in the brightness, having been stifled for so long under the dark clouds that had consumed me.

When I was with Keith I did not experience any feelings of anger, disgust or frustration that had led to culmination of the storm clouds and the manifestation of that feeling of numbness.

Perhaps the only slight frustration I felt was during one of Keith’s bucket list fantasies when he wanted to have sex whilst his favourite jazz tune played.

Once I had got past the distraction of whether the piano was actually  being played correctly, it all seemed to go a little chaotic.

Keith seemed determined to have sex with me to the rhythm of the music, yet there seemed to be no actual rhythm. Cymbals would crash and trumpets blare which sounded like a cat being strangled. Keith’s movements inside me replicated the cacophony of chaos that filled the room. If someone had been watching they would be forgiven in thinking that this fifty year old was having a fit.

The fantasy had been to make love to this one particular tune but after twenty minutes of random crash, bangs and wallops I brought Keith, who was happily humming away, closer to me and whispered

“Hun I think this is a different tune?”

Without breaking from his haphazard rhythm he replied “No. Still the same one.”

That evening I certainly had admiration for Keith’s stamina but cannot say that I had a new found love for jazz.

The final bucket list fantasy was left purposely to last, not by me but by Keith. I never asked why, perhaps he wanted to end our time together with a bang. Keith wanted to get a little kinky.

I was unsurprised that this particular fantasy would appear on the list; around that time it was all the rage. Thousands of sexually repressed British people were showing how much they loved their partner by tieing them up and whacking them.

I had been tied up before but rarely made a habit of it. Although I had no control over my compulsion to have random sex I still retained some semblance of intelligence. I was not suddenly going to let a guy I had just met tie me up so I could not escape, or at the very least kick him in the balls. But I had been with Keith for months, he was kind and I trusted him.

My arse had been spanked countless times during sex and some of my one nighters would get a little rough. Nevertheless, Keith was a gentle soul and doubted he could hurt me.

Therefore I had agreed to this particular fantasy expecting that this would all be performed rather half-heartedly and that Keith would lose interest halfway through and just revert back to normal sex.

However he had planned this quite methodically and wanted to insert a little roleplay into this fantasy. Here was where we encountered the first problem.

I had grown up in comic book stores and had listened to numerous heated discussions about plot holes and the problem with retcons.

I would never participate in such discussions but clearly some of the fanboy ranting must have rubbed off on me because I was unhappy with the plot of Keith’s fantasy.

“So you will be a naughty secretary that I punish for making mistakes.” said Keith.

I stifled a giggle as I watched Keith describe his naughty idea in such a bumbling manner. However, I felt this storyline needed to be clarified.

“Wait. What sort of mistakes?” I enquired.

Keith was not expecting any enquiry into the detail of his fantasy and stuttered his response “Ermmm.. You know, not filing properly, late.. That sort of stuff.”

“So I’m incompetent?” I replied

“Well.. Yes I guess you are.”

“So not naughty just incompetent.” I stated.

“Well… No.. You’re naughty and incompetent” bumbled Keith.

“Not doing the filing properly and that does not make me naughty it makes me shit at my job.”

Keith went to say something but I continued “I mean if I can’t do my job properly then you give me warnings… training… notify HR… Not fucking flog me. That’s not in the Company Manual”

“HR don’t know and you are too concerned about keeping your job to say anything to anyone.” Keith said, desperately trying to maintain the simplicity of this fantasy.

“Fuck off. My job is to do filing. You start threatening to spank me cos I’m shit at it.. I’ll bloody leave straight away.”

Keith smiled trying to find a compromise  “Look let’s just say I am a kinky boss that likes to punish poor workers that way.”

“Did you do that to Roger when he broke the photocopier?” I replied.

“Who’s Roger?” Keith asked, looking a little confused.

“Just someone I added to this scenario to give it some realism”

Keith held his hands up “There is no Roger.”

“He’s got a wife and two kids you know” I added

“SELINA!” Keith exclaimed before smiling and calmly he replied “OK you’re not incompetent just slutty and you make these mistakes purposely  to get me to punish you. ”

“So why don’t I just ask you to spank me?” I suggested.

“Excuse me?” asked Keith.

“Rather than just pretend to be shit at my job why don’t I just bend over your desk and say ‘spank me big boy'”

“Because….” Keith thought for a moment, sighed and went and got a drink.

The evening of the fantasy I emerged from the bathroom wearing black thigh high stockings and a basque, all finished off with a choker.  If there were any doubt what Keith intended to do then the fact my bare arse was clearly on show was a bit of a giveaway.

“I don’t think this is really suitable office attire, Keith” I said.

“We’ve moved on from that scenario now.” he replied.

Since my geeky necessity for plot perfection Keith had not shared with me the details of his new revised fantasy. My ex Steven used to do that a lot but Keith was kinder and gentler. I was certain I had nothing to worry about. At the end of the day I was simply submitting myself to a guy I’ve known for just a few months holding a paddle in his hand.

There was a pillar that separated his lounge from the hallway and Keith chose that location to tie me up.  Facing the pillar he begun to bind my hands and ankles.

“Oh… We need a safe word” he said.

“How about ‘Stop fucking hitting me you wanker'” I suggested.

Ignoring my comment he provided the name of one of his favourite Jazz musicians as our safe word.

With me bound and nowhere to go Keith stalked round me. He was naked save for a silk robe that did little to hide his modesty.

” You’ve been a bad girl.” He offered that cliché in a rather unconvincing way but followed it up with a crack of the paddle on my bare buttocks.

It was at that moment of the hard leather colliding with my soft skin that I realised something.  It was something I had not really thought about. All the rough sex and scrapes I had gotten into in my life it had never occurred to me until that moment.

I don’t like pain.

THWACK!!

I really don’t like pain.

“Fuckin’ Hell Keith” I screamed

“Yeh you like that don’t you? You naughty girl” he replied, now in full role play mode.

“No it fucking hurts” I screamed with  tears forming in my eyes.

But Keith did not relent and why would he? This was his fantasy and I hadn’t said the safe word.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Pride was not the reason I didn’t scream out the safe word. Nor was it because I was enjoying it; having my arse beaten was definitely not my idea of a fun Friday night.  However determined I was to fulfill Keith’s fantasies I had no hesitation in calling it off.

No, the reason I did not was because I wasn’t paying attention when he told me. I probably should have written it down but that was difficult on account of my hands being tied up at the time.

For all Keith knew my cries of pain were an act; an exaggerated performance to bring to life his fantasy.  He wanted to punish me for being slutty.  He wanted to punish me for being incompetent and failing to do the most basic things in life correctly. Art imitating life. Perhaps there were  reasons I wasn’t shouting out the safe word.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

My buttocks stung and the soreness of my skin made each whack more painful. Keith was relentless, his normal kind demeanour had transformed into something more sinister. Was he trying to really hurt me? Or was he simply performing a role. Just all part of the make believe.

As I stood there, bound, being flogged an image flashed through my mind. It was an image that I had become familiar with but which had been absent from my mind for the entire duration of the  relationship with Keith.

It was of the dark towering behemoth. The one that would lead me towards that final descent into the dark abyss of nothingness.

At the start of our relationship I had contemplated whether Keith could be that final liason but had quickly dismissed that thought. He was kind and his bumbling nature had been disarming.

Yet, although I had no control over my compulsion which had seen me engage in all manner of sexual activity, I had always been careful never to leave myself in a position of vulnerability where I would be unable to resist the advances of the mystery monster that haunted my dreams. But I found myself bound, unable to move, unable to run. I was totally at the mercy of another.

I could sense the sinister black clouds forming, ready to erase the brightness of my mind that I had enjoyed the past few months. No doubt Lina would be riding the roaring gloom like a lustful valkyrie; crashes of thunder would ring out in my head to signal her return.

I closed my eyes as Keith continued to punish me. I had submitted to whatever Keith intended to do next. Would he hurt me? I mean really hurt me. Use me in whatever way he desired with no consideration of myself.

This was to be our final time together…..a final liaison. Bound tightly I could not see behind me. Dare I try to look? To see that once gentle face now contorted in an expression of dark lustful malevolence. His skin reddening from the exertion of the brutality he was delivering.

With tears running down my face I closed my eyes once more willing  the numbness that the dark clouds would provide to arrive.

Then the beating stopped. I stood there in silence, my breath in sync with the throbbing of my skin.  Why had he stopped? Was this the calm before the actual storm?  Then he spoke, the comforting bumbling tones a juxtaposition of the image of the raging punisher I had fixed in my mind.

“Well I must say this isn’t at all what I imagined” he said “Not at all. I am rather disappointed and really don’t see what the fuss is all about”

I let out a laugh which was more an exclamation of relief. “You not aroused then Keith?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest. I do hope I did not hurt you in pursuing this ridiculous fantasy” he said as he begun to untie me.

“No… Just stings a little” I replied.

Free of restraint I watched Keith slump mournfully into an armchair. Our final time had not been the event he had hoped for. He realised that was it, the end of the deal, time to go our separate ways.

Even I could not end it on such a sour note.  There was a element of pride there. The Fantasy Giver was not about to bow out on a loss. But also I had become rather fond of Keith.

I dropped to my knees and begun to slowly crawl towards Keith.

“Selina what are you doing?” he exclaimed.

I did not respond, just continued my slow, sultry journey to his lap where I took his flaccid penis in my hand guiding it towards my lips.

I looked up at Keith as I felt him grow hard inside my warm mouth. His look was one of confusion… Just what I like!

I sucked on his expanding meat until he was about to explode, all the while my eyes were fixed on his, watching the bewildered enjoyment he was experiencing. This is how Selina says goodbye… Or is that more Lina’s style.

I stood up and straddled Keith lowering myself onto his wet cock. He gripped my buttocks that were raw from the beating they had taken. A sharp intake of breath accompanied my descent onto his aroused member.

Keith buried his face into my pert breasts as I slid up and down upon him. It was raw and it was passionate. No briefing. No priming. Just instinctive spontaneous sex.  This aroused Keith more than perhaps he wanted. His orgasm came quick hard. He shook and in the final throes of his passionate release I swore he muttered “I love you.”

In that moment I probably could have said the same.  Keith was not to be my downfall. He was not my foe determined to destroy me, he was my saviour.

Instead of dragging me down into that dark pit of despair he had jumped in and plucked me out. He was my white knight, not so much in shining armour but in pinstripes.

Rather than confirm my ultimate destruction and sentence me to a lifetime of soul sapping numbness he had, through his kindness, banished those clouds.

Keith was a decent man. An honest man. So why would I not tell him I love him and carry on with the relationship?

What is that old cliché? It’s not you it’s me?  There was nothing wrong with Keith but there sure as hell was something wrong with me.

Despite the best efforts of the pinstriped warrior fragments of the darkness he rescued me from remained. Small reminders as to what I had done, what I was like, what I was capable of.

Lina would return; I had no doubt about that. I didn’t want Keith to meet her, he certainly did not deserve that. She would have no regard for his feelings and lay waste to his beautiful kind manner.

If I told him I loved him it would make what would follow harder. That moment I would callously and cruelly hurt him for no other reason than I was bored. To respond to his gestures of kindness with a numb indifference. That was not fair. He deserved better.

He had saved me and in return I had given him everything he wanted.  They had been a happy six months  and it was probably best to keep them that way.

So I could not tell him I loved him. It was time to move on and my parting words as I slid down his cock one final time were simple;

“Thank You”

Did you enjoy? Feel free to pop back to my Place and take a look around.

The Deal of Selina 

It was inevitable that I would have sex with Keith.

Firstly, ever since bumping into me, he had shown the requisite interest which, in recent times, had been enough to allow any man between my legs.

Secondly, following my failed encounter with the young guy in the toilet cubicle I had felt that burning compulsion to have sex.  I needed it. Not for any pleasure but to restore the numbness before those dark storm clouds once again consumed me.

Such was this need I did not care that Keith was twice my age. It had gotten to the stage in the frenzied feeding of my compulsion that I was willing to not be that picky.

Not that there was much wrong with Keith.  The grey flecks in his hair gave him that distinguished look and whilst time was starting to show on his lined face he was clearly quite handsome. I just hoped his cock worked. I had given a clear indication at least 30 minutes beforehand that we would be having sex in case he needed to go take a little blue pill.

By the end of the night I was inside his luxurious flat and he was inside me. It was a passionate encounter with Keith a mixture of enthusiasm and hesitancy. It was as if one part of his brain refused to accept that he was having sex with a much younger pretty girl. The other half seemed to be unsure whether he should be doing anything different.

Whether chemically induced or not he was hard and for my part I had just wanted him deep inside me. The dark clouds had been forming in my mind and I was in no mood to experience any of the malevolent shame they intended to strike down upon me.

Keith’s stamina surprised me. Perhaps unfairly I had assumed that it would be over in a matter of minutes or that he might just keel over. There was one moment when I looked at his face which was red, glistening with sweat, all contorted in the weirdest expression, I actually thought Keith might be having a heart attack. Turned out I was witnessing his orgasm face.  A furious combination of thrusts that defied his age followed then a satisfied moan before rolling off, all sweating and panting.

Normally, as soon as it was over I would be on my feet getting dressed and making a hasty exit. I continued to be haunted by this image, that had invaded my dreams, of a dark figure. He signified my final liaison. Therefore I tended not to stick around the guy’s house, just in case he was a psychopath.

However with Keith something felt different. The storm clouds had gone. Usually there would be some remnant of the dark swirl but instead I felt normal. I felt drunk… . I felt Keith’s arm slide across as me as he snuggled up.

Woatheretiger. Selinadoesn‘t cuddle. 

But I did not protest I just allowed my heavy eyes to close as I fell into a gentle slumber.

I awoke the next morning alone in the bed. My head hurt but it was a pain I welcomed. It was not caused by the ravages of the darkness but by the vast quantities of alcohol I had consumed the night before. I had a hangover.  Whilst it made every movement hurt I much preferred this to the numbness I had become accustomed to.

“I’m Alive!” I said internally before taking four attempts to actually get out of the bed.

I stood naked in some stranger’s bedroom and it was a dilemma I had not experienced in a while. Do I put on last night’s clothes? I picked them up from the floor, which took longer than it should have; every time I bent down the floor seemed to sink further away from me.

When I finally retrieved my clothes they smelt of last night – alcohol, cigarettes, sex. The accumulated scent made me feel nauseous. I was of course fully prepared to take the walk of shame home in yesterday’s outfit but another drawback of the hangover was my throat felt dry and I could certainly do with a coffee. I had no idea where my aging lover was. I didn’t really know where I was.

I spied on a chair a neatly pressed shirt which, along with my panties, I slipped on. This certainly should give him no funny ideas. When I finally reached the kitchen, Keith was at the stove cooking up some scrambled eggs. He had the air of a fifty year old that had just spent the night fucking someone younger. He was humming away to some awful jazz tune as he spied me;

“Ahh Selina. Good Morning to you” he exclaimed, stuttering a little as he noted what I was wearing.

He gestured to a round table for me to sit where he brought me some orange juice and the nectar of the Gods….. a coffee.

“I am making some scrambled eggs if you fancy some or there are some croissants on the table” he spoke in a posh accent, a hint of nervousness underlined each word.  He was like one of those kind yet bumbling British characters that Colin Firth always seems to play.

Keeping eye contact with him I grabbed a croissant and bit off the end, chewing suspiciously like I was some feral girl who had spent my life in some woods being raised by wolves. Keith would be the kindly gentleman who would teach me the ways of the human folk.  Alternatively, he could be the evil hunter intent of having me mounted on his wall as a prized catch. I opted for the former because Colin Firth only plays good guys, doesn’t he?

He joined me at the table with a steaming pile of scrambled eggs which he lavishly spread on my plate. Sitting down opposite  he flicked through the newspaper while still humming that incessant jazz tune.  I ate in silence. He didn’t look at me, just read his paper pausing only to take a bite of his breakfast.  He managed to do this all without breaking tune.

“Selina I’m thinking of taking a drive in the countryside this afternoon” he said suddenly without looking up from the paper “I wondered if you care to join me?..  There’s a lovely pub there who do a wonderful Ploughman’s lunch.”

He looked up at me for my answer just at the point I was devouring a massive spoonful of scrambled eggs.

Whydoguysalwayswanttoaskmequestionswhenmymouthisfull?!

I nodded my agreement. I maybe should have given it some more thought but I wanted Keith to return to his paper before egg spilled out of my mouth.

“Delightful” he said looking back down at his newspaper “Of course we will swing  round yours so you can change.”

The drive to the pub was silent, well apart from Keith humming away to jazz music. I was preoccupied with a thought;

I have just agreed to get in a car with a complete stranger and drive through woodland to the middle of nowhere.

Despite the fact I may have voluntarily consented to my demise I actually felt calm. There was something wonderfully disarming about Keith. His bumbling British manner put me at ease and I felt he was more Kind Keith than Killer Keith.

At the pub he generously bought me lunch and despite the remnants of my hangover still lingering I washed it down with several beers.   Keith was more than happy to tell me about his life.  He was a Partner in a big city law firm. I would tell you more about that but I kind of switched off whilst he was telling me….. something something corporate something.

He was presently going through a divorce and he had a daughter the same age as me; we both looked awkwardly away when he revealed that fun fact.  He asked me about myself and I was cagey at first to reveal too much but such was his innocent charm I found I told him more than I had intended.

I was going to end the brief summary of my life with the fact that I really hate being bludgeoned to death in the middle of a woods. You know, just in case. Yet I felt totally safe with Keith the only unease that was building was that it felt like a date. Was I dating a fifty year old? Did he think it was a date?

It was around this point that he finally raised our sexual antics from the previous night.

“Selina I must say last night was amazing” he begun “I know it would be foolish of me to believe you would want to do it again…Would you?”

He paused looking at me for some response but I was eating a chocolate cheesecake.

Again with answering questions whilst my mouth is full!

Still devouring the cheesecake and unable to respond I just smiled, Keith took the opportunity to continue.

“Well anyway at least that’s something I can cross off my list”

I gulped down the mouthful of dessert and replied “You have a list?”

“Oh yes” he said rather boldly “A bucket list. Do you not have one?”

I giggled whilst picking at the remnants of chocolate on my plate “No. Anyway I thought they were just about skydiving and visiting pyramids.”

A bashful smile spread across his face as he responded “Well mine was like that,  but there were a few.. carnal things I put on there.”

“A few?” I said raising an eyebrow “Like what?”

“Well… erm..” he bumbled “I can show you the list.. If you like?”

He picked up his phone and after a few taps on his screen he slid it towards me. I looked down to see all neatly presented Keith’s Bucket List.

I scanned through the dull ones like motor car racing until I got to the juicy portion.  I looked up at Keith who stared at me nervously as I flicked through the list.

“Done… Done… Not done..” I said as I scrolled through  “Don’t know what that is…. and you shouldn’t even be thinking that one let alone writing it down you dirty bastard.’

I looked up at Keith who had the expression of a school kid who was agonisingly waiting for his Teacher to mark his homework.

He gave a nervous smile and said “So? What do you think?”

I was unsure how to respond, unclear if he expected me to give feedback on each individual one.

“Yeh, they’re cool.” I answered nonchalantly “Although number 12… Wrong.. Just wrong.”

Keith let out a nervous laugh and replied “Well at least thanks to you I can cross one off the list.”

“I didn’t see one that said fuck a girl half your age.” I retorted.

More nervous laughter from Keith as he replied “No but a one night stand was.” He took a sip from his glass of red wine before continuing “I’d like to do a few more on that list …..with you”

I was rather taken back by his sudden boldness. I  had endured what seemed a lifetime of bumbling and indecision before he ordered his lunch, which turned out to be exactly what he always ordered,  yet here he was making a very direct request.

It was this directness  which caught me a little off guard. I had expected him to try and have sex with me again, I would have been offended if he hadn’t. Yet I was at a loss on how to respond and just raised an eyebrow.

Concerned he may have offended me Keith returned to his more familiar bumbling nature.

“I mean you of course do not have to. It wouldn’t just be sex.. I’d buy you things.. You know.. Treat you.”

“I’m not a whore Keith” I replied, a mischievous half-smile on my face.

“No.. No.. You most certainly are not.. What I mean is we can go out” he said, floundering for the right words “You know, like dinner or a show and if you fancied doing something off the list then…. we can”

Before I could respond he added “But only if you want to.. No pressure.” For good measure he concluded with “And you wouldn’t be a whore.”

I smiled and contemplated his offer. I had no idea why but being in Keith’s presence made the storm clouds stay away.  Maybe I could do with a holiday from the numbness. It had been a bad year and I was clinging on by a thread. Perhaps indulging in Keith’s list of lust would help me hold on that little bit longer.

I had no intention of ‘dating’ Keith and would have to be careful not to let him become too attached. It would be good for both of us. I can step out of the darkness for a short while and Keith… well he gets his naughty fantasies fulfilled.

Isn’t that how it all began? This desire to please others, to make their fantasies come true. Selina The Fantasy Giver – that’s what I used to call myself but recently it had just been Lina.  She had been thriving in the darkness and what it compelled me to do. I concluded there was nothing wrong with the offer Keith had presented me with.

“Okay.” I said “I’m up for that.”

His face lit up not quite sure if I had agreed to his proposal. “Really?” he exclaimed “Well now that is rather pleasant.”

“But not number twelve.” I pointed out.

“No. Well we can discuss the ones you are happy to do.” He replied.

I smiled and went back to finishing the last of my cheesecake, glancing over at Keith who had the expression of a child who had just been told he can have all the toys in the shop.

For my part I felt happy. Not that giddy happiness someone may have when first embarking on a relationship. It wasn’t going to be like that. It was most certainly not a relationship.

It just felt good to be the Fantasy Giver again and this time I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for. Here it was before me in Times New Roman font, all nicely underlined and arranged.  There could be no misunderstandings. No mistakes. Plus by the sounds of it I was going to get well fed for my effort.

It was a good deal and you only make good deals with good people.

I mean who else is there to make a deal with?

With the deal done, will Keith be my saviour? Find out here