Regular readers will know one of my recent stories had been ‘coming soon’ for quite some time. As it happened, it took several months to plan, write, refine and polish. I hope it was worth the wait.
The story took so long to complete because I wanted to paint an experience, one so vivid it could be remembered with the detail of cherished memory from a long-ago. I wanted to transport each reader’s imagination away to that night at Firecrest Manor, so each scene might enter your erotic lexicon, the treasure chest of imagery we dip into when generating our fantasies.
The magic of fiction is that by reading a story we add new sights to our mind’s eye. So those who’ve read my latest story will now have imagined punishment panties, intimate bottom inspections, bathtime spankings, toilet predicaments, dressing up, panty play in public and whatever other moments made them tingle. These are gifts of discrete imagination, new treats to add to your collection — and unlike Alice’s laptop, they’ll be safety retained in your most secure and private repository, the one between your ears.
If these sights are gifts for the reader, what then is the reward for the writer? Let me tell you; an idea tumbling from the fiery forge is when it’s at its most intense. We writers witness the brilliance of an idea’s initial glow, something we can never quite express to you in words, no matter how articulate and loquacious we might be. We have the honour of fashioning ideas to our whim, thrilling in a shower of sparks as we hammer our stories into shape.
Oh the details I have seen, dear reader. I wish you could have seen them too. It was like walking in a lucid dream.
Consider the spanking by the fountain. Such a scene illustrates why erotic stories will always be far better than porn. Would anyone ever take the time to film something like that properly? Only the most skilled director could ever hope to portray the details your imagination can supply.
Just imagine it now.
A cascade of water glimmering in the headlights, the crunch of feet on gravel, getting louder, a running man urgently pulling his lover’s hand. A flirty exchange, the palpable sexual tension. He undresses her with almost indecent speed, but we are not shown her nakedness. Instead the camera focuses on her face hovering above the sparkling pool, on how her hair dips and drags through the burbling waters, how it flicks water across her body as her head tosses and bucks with every spank.
Our view follows one droplet as it dribbles down her back; we see her ribs squeeze as she pants with every breath, we see her spine arch with every smack, and how she pushes her bottom out to meet his palm. Her curves funnel the drop between her cheeks, time slows, his hand drifts into shot, how massive it looks when shown this close. And before it strikes we catch a fleeting glimpse of her glistening folds, far wetter than any single drop could ever achieve.
You’ll never see this on your screen, this a scene for the cinema between your ears. A reward for the contemplative reader, one who takes their time imagining.
Every scene in my stories can be conjured forth in such detail. The secret is in how you read them.
When you return to a story there’s no need to start and the beginning and read through to the end; this isn’t a school assignment. Instead start at the scene you want to imagine, and read it slowly, use your imagination to render what you see, to fill in the details. Characters and locations should become more than just descriptions, you should be able to see them in your mind’s eye, almost floating in front of you when you close your eyes. Perhaps you’ll only read a couple of pages tonight, but you’ll visualise them with a lucidity that will make your mind buzz. And perhaps something else too.
Immersive stories reward those who return to read them, each visit reinforcing and refining your imagined world. As Picasso once said, everything you can imagine becomes real.
And whereas erotic videos come fully rendered, with little room for your imagination, the cinema between your ears has infinite scope. A limitless special effects budget, your favourite actors, your pick of the world’s locations, and you in the director’s chair. All you need is a screenplay. But I might be able to help with that.
Even better, the scenes you add to your erotic lexicon can be acted out, either by yourself or with your partner. Each scene can become a playground, with endless opportunities for improvisation. How will you interpret that lifted skirt or passionate kiss, that lingering bottom inspection or that thorough spanking? You might even find the written word helps overcome the awkwardness of erotic experimentation. After all, it was the story that made me do it.
These stories are my gift, from my imagination, to yours.
I hope you’ll give them a good home.
And take them out from time to time.
And play with them.