I Gotta Feeling

Friends to lovers short story. Kiss

Don’t forget to read parts 1, 2 & 3 of this friends to lovers romance first, you can find them here: Stories

Lights flashed across the dancefloor as bodies moved against each other. The scent of sweat and sweet shots surrounded me as I danced with my flatmates to the latest Calvin Harris beats on a beer-soaked dancefloor. I’d not drank alcohol since George had left that afternoon, wanting to have a clear head. Instead, I attempted to forget him by dancing until everything hurt. I wanted my brain to stop. The one positive was that the moment with George on the sofa had put an end to Jamie’s advances, but at what cost? I hadn’t heard from George since he left the flat. Maybe Adele had invited him partying? Or he was avoiding me and what happened.

Had the interview gone well? George would have smashed it. Although I was full of hope for him, I couldn’t ignore the thing that hurt my heart and made me want to dance until I couldn’t feel anymore. Had I lost my best friend?

I let the beat thread through my limbs as I closed my eyes and let go. But every couple of seconds I opened my eyes and searched for his face in the crowd. Occasionally a hand touched my shoulder, and I’d twist, hoping to see his smile, and each time disappointment hit my gut as I came face to face with a stranger. The couples flirting within my eye line were a reminder of what we could have if we both felt the same way. Why had I waited so long to get to this place? What if it was one-sided? Were his reactions the result of hornyness that he’d now worked out of his system with a stranger?

I let all the questions out with a sigh and writhed my hips to the song. George had helped me recognise how sexy I was. Even if that knowledge was all I got from today, then it was a win. Sweat beaded my chest and slowly dripped down beneath the black satin slip dress I’d borrowed from my flatmate, Minnie. It was indecent, and I was so hot that it stuck to my skin. My feet would hurt in the morning, but I didn’t care, I was a fucking goddess in it, especially as I’d partnered it with sky-high black heels. The dress hit at the top of my thighs giving me legs that “went on for miles”. I ran my hands through my shoulder-length hair, closed my eyes and let go. The beat consumed me.

“That guy,” a shout that was as quiet as a whisper in my ear came from Minnie.

“Huh?” I asked, struggling out of my disorientated state.

“There’s a guy over there, near the bar. I can’t see his face properly, but I swear he’s staring over here at you,” she shouted. “He’s been looking for like five minutes.”

I squinted at where she was pointing, but I couldn’t see past the group to my right. It looked like some rugby players were out, even in my heels they eclipsed my view.

“Oh shit, he’s coming over.” She shimmied by my side. I’d made her promise that she wouldn’t let any guys try it on with me. I wasn’t in the mood tonight.

Suddenly it was as if the crowds parted to let him through.

“Oh my God,” she screamed in my ear. “It’s that radio presenter George Webster. I’m not standing in his way. Grace, you’d be lucky to have him.”

I knew he must have seen my Instagram. I’d unashamedly posted a picture of Minnie and me taken from the ladies toilets. I’d accompanied the photo with a tag to hint where we were dancing with the hope of baiting him. Minnie had called it a thirst trap because I was trying to get his attention with my sexy outfit. I couldn’t argue I’d posted it only with him in mind.

He nodded a hello at Minnie as he bent down and growled in my ear. “I hoped I’d find you here.”

A beaming grin hit my face. I didn’t want to play it cool with George anymore. “How did the interview go?”

“It was amazing. Adele divulged things she always used to refuse to talk about in interviews before. My boss said it was the best interview I’ve ever done. Today all my dreams came true.”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, grateful he was still bent low. “I’m so happy for you.” He lifted me in the air and spun me around, making me giggle in delight. By the time he popped me back down on the floor on my wobbly heels, I was breathless. Being so close to him, his heat against me had left me more flushed than I’d expected.

“I think I just showed my knickers to the club,” I said through giggles.

“Lucky club,” he joked. “I was wondering if we could chat later.”

I nodded as the sweat on my chest trickled down underneath the front of my dress. I swore George watched the bead travel. He stared at my breasts as if he could see beneath the satin. “No, bra?” he mouthed.

I shook my head as wetness collected in my knickers.

He smiled broadly and started to dance with our group. We were surrounded by people but only looked at each other. What was he going to say? Couldn’t we have our chat now?

*****

We fell into his flat, my heels hanging off my finger. The sun was coming up as he softly closed the front door. My housemates had gone back to the flat, but somehow we’d ended up at his apartment. I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. It was time for the chat.

He took my hand and led me over to the sofa. His hand was warm, and my nerves fell away. I was with my best friend now, and whatever we said we had each other’s best interests at heart.

I dropped my shoes to the floor and tucked my legs beneath me, revealing my knickers in the process. George watched with an upturned mouth and raised eyebrows, but he didn’t comment. I sat against the soft leather facing him. With his long legs, he wasn’t going to tuck his under, but he looked at me anyway. There must have been a window open somewhere because the tweeting of the dawn chorus carried on a slight breeze.

“What’s going on, Grace,” he asked. “Was tonight about pretending to be your boyfriend again, or is there something going on between us. You’re my best friend, and that is important to me.”

“It’s important to me too,” I said so quietly that my voice was barely a whisper. “Tonight wasn’t about pretending to be anything. I’ve loved you as my best friend since we were kids, but something changed recently. I don’t understand it, and I’m scared of losing our friendship over a mistake.”

“Was earlier a mistake for you?” He furrowed his brow, and I fought my need to run my thumb across it and ease his confusion.

“No, it was one of the hottest moments of my life,” I confessed. In our twelve years together, I’d never felt like that with Brian. I’d been desperate for George to kiss me all night, but instead, he’d laughed with my friends, taken photos with fans in the club and danced until dawn. He’d stayed by my side all night. He was the same George who at our friend’s wedding had listened to my problems and taken care of me.

“Mine too,” he confessed.

I scooted closer. “But you’ve slept with so many women. You’ve met all kinds of celebrities who must have given you their number. Remember that one who wanted you to call her. The one that was in that American girl group; The Kitty Cats.”

He laughed and shrugged. “Yes, but thankfully nothing came of that. Grace, I think there’s something you should know.” He took my hands between his. They were rough from his workouts. The familiarity of being held by him was significant. It felt like home. “I’ve fancied you since we were twelve.”

“What?” I held his hands tighter. I thought back to the gangly teenage boy who took a while to grow into his body. At first, he was all limbs without any control over them. He used his humour to stop the bullies, and with that same humour, he’d transformed into a star on the radio.

“It was a teenage crush, at first. But then as we grew up, it turned into more. Do you remember when we played Truth or Dare, and we had to kiss?”

“Vividly. I can’t believe I vomited on your shoes.”

He smiled shyly. “I thought that would be my chance to make you fall for me.” He pinned me with his eyes, and my heart beat faster as he revealed a new side. His honesty made him vulnerable, and I didn’t dare look away.

I inched closer, encouraging him to open his heart to me. “And I ruined it.”

His laugh was brief but sincere. “Yeah. But I decided then it was time to let you go and live your life. I wanted you to go to university and work towards your plan. Then during uni or if I could wait, graduation, I would tell you how I felt and see what you thought. I wanted the opportunity to get over my crush too, but I wondered if we had a chance.”

“Is that why you told me to screw around instead of study all the time?” Even after hours of dancing, I could smell his aftershave. I breathed in the vanilla and grapefruit scent. It was the same smell that had been on his pillow the other night. It was like breathing our shared past. “Hold on. I recall you were screwing around a lot at university too.”

“But I wanted you to see the world. I knew your plan was important to you, but I didn’t want you to miss out either. And I wasn’t having as much sex as you thought. Don’t get me wrong, I was no innocent, and I have had a lot since.” My wide-eyed stare at the conversation made him hesitate. “Not that you need to know the details. Anyway, one night during our first year, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. I was on the train from London to Birmingham, and I got the message that you’d met someone called Brian, and you thought he might be the one to fit with your plan.”

I dropped my head with embarrassment. Was that the reason I’d started dating Brian?

George tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my face to meet his eyes. “It’s okay. I didn’t know how you felt about me, let alone how you’d feel knowing that I’d been hiding this from you after all this time. What if you thought our friendship was a lie?”

“Was it?”

“No, I cared about you first and foremost as a friend. I hoped my the crush would fade. When you started going out with Brian, I resigned myself to you and him forever.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with every nervy swallow.

“And did it fade?” My breath caught in my throat.

“Yes.” I attempted to stop my shoulders from slumping. “Instead, I fell in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t keep this in any longer. But no matter what you think or feel this friendship is still the most important thing in my life. I never want to lose that. But I need to know what was going on earlier when we kissed. That wasn’t a pretend boyfriend kiss.”

“All my life I’ve been following this plan and I wonder if somewhere along the line I forgot to enjoy life. The times we spent together when we were younger brought me joy. I remember going to parties, listening to hours and hours of music in your room and even volunteering at that retirement home. You were the one I could share my true self with. I knew you wouldn’t judge me. But I got caught up in the plan and I started a relationship with a man I’m not sure I ever loved. I believed that if I just stuck to the plan, I’d be happy.”

“And what made you the happiest?”

“You, always you. Wherever you were, I was happy. But the sexual thing? I don’t know where that came from. Maybe when I reset my life and started at university, I found something that was missing. I found me, and that version of me, the real me, wanted you. I want you for as long as this works.”

Sunshine poured through the window. When George went to university, I’d bought him a prism suncatcher that when he stuck to his window and the sun shone rainbows would fly around his room. He’d kept it all this time and hung it in his fancy London apartment. Rainbows covered the walls around us. It was a symbol of hope. But did I dare let myself believe we had a future? We had an incredible past, and maybe it could happen.

He stared back at me. The grey of his eyes left me mesmerised. “Are you sure this isn’t because Jamie rejected you tonight? I saw him kissing another “MILF”,” he teased.

I punched him in the shoulder as I pouted.

He quickly cupped my face and drew me to him. I leaned close as his lips met mine. The kiss was different from earlier. It was hot as hell but tender too. He tasted of sweet strawberry shots. I closed my eyes, and my hands travelled up to his face as he took the kiss deeper. George’s eyelashes fluttered against my skin; they were like little butterflies. My heart beat so fast that I wasn’t sure if his heart had merged with mine to create a frenetic beat. I eased his mouth open with my tongue and explored. His scent in my lungs and his hands against my skin felt right, and we kissed like two people who had been waiting a lifetime to share a caress.

Eventually, we pulled back at the same time as if synchronised. The smile on his face melted any trace of worry in my heart.

“We’re really doing this then?” he asked, his vulnerability clear when the question slipped from his lips.

“I can’t believe we waited so long,” I replied with a grin so wide I knew my face would hurt in the morning. Shit, it was already morning.

I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He may have been a giant compared to me, but I knew I could lead him anywhere I wanted.

“Give me a moment? I need to go to the bathroom,” I said simply. With any other guy, I would have been too anxious to admit I needed the loo halfway through foreplay. But not with George. Doing it with a best friend made it easier.

“Ah, the old Gracie bladder,” he joked. “Just hurry, I want you back as soon as possible. It’s time I gave you my best.”

“As long as it includes you deep inside me, I’ll be happy,” I replied swiftly. George swallowed noisily, and I delighted in my ability to turn him on with a phrase.

*****

I left the bathroom and found him sat on the bed in his boxers.

“I wanted to undress you,” I teased as I stepped closer and stood between his legs. I ran my hands across his chest. He was so broad now. My fingertips trailed a line across his pecs and down his abs. He tightened his stomach as I got lower and a sigh caught in my throat. He was beautiful.

His hands stroked the back of my thighs as they travelled towards my bum. “Next time you can do what you want with me, but I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time, and I don’t want my clothes to get in the way.” He stared up at me in awe. The heat between my legs burned as he reached up to my knickers and dragged them down my legs.

I stepped out gracefully before his hands moved up again. “I do have one question.” His voice vibrated through me. “Why do you keep wearing things that I get the urge to undo?”

I laughed; he had a point. The dress had a ribbon back. Our moment with my dressing gown belt had been on my mind when Minnie showed the dress. I turned to give him access to the ribbon, lifting my hair and holding it out of his way. His fingertips brushed my skin, heating it with his touch. The end of the ribbon skimmed my lower back, and he made a point of stroking me there as he undid it. My skin tingled as he ran his fingers across it.

The dress fell to the floor. He feathered kissed across my hips and gave my bum a little bite. I glared at him over my shoulder, but I was immediately transfixed by the way his pupils had dilated, and his mouth fell open. “Fucking hell. How did I get this lucky?”

“Before I turn, I just want to warn you that I don’t always love my body. I’ve worried for years that my breasts are too big, considering I’m only five foot.”

He choked. “They can’t be too big for me. Don’t forget I am a big guy and they won’t be bigger than my hands. Also, what the fuck, Grace? I’m pretty sure my mouth was on them earlier.”

I laughed and gave him a wink.

His laugh was strangled. “Now stop trying to distract me and show me your tits.”

“I’ve never heard you say tits before.”

“I’ve never heard you say tits either.” The way he said it brought a jolt of need to my belly. How dirty could he be? He was blessed with a voice that could make me do all sorts just to hear it say my name. He licked closer and closer to my nipple, drawing out the tension and groaning as he pleasured me. His hand slipped down to between my legs. It was like our moment in Grand Central but a billion times hotter.

George stroked the inside of my thighs just beneath my pussy. Each moment was a tease that ramped up the anticipation. Maybe it was payback for the years he’d imagined this. Wetness pooled between my legs, but it didn’t make him move any faster.

“Please, George,” I moaned. If anything, it made him move slower.

I looked down and watched the tip of his tongue circle my nipple. Arousal coursed through my blood, pushing me higher. My legs trembled, and a whimper left my mouth, surprising both of us. He smiled up at me, a fire in his eyes before dropping his head back to my breast.

I was drowsy with desire, and when I thought I couldn’t take anymore his thumb slid across my clit, and his lips brushed my nipple. It sent a spark of electricity right back to my pussy. I shoved my fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as he stroked me higher. He thrust one then two fingers quickly inside me, his mouth never leaving my breasts.

I swore he was learning what made me cry out the loudest as he licked and sucked my breasts and pumped his fingers inside me while thumbing my clit. Maybe pressing all the buttons at the station had improved his dexterity. I squeezed my thighs to make him move faster and wiggled my hips to force his fingers deeper.

He had me close already, it had been building all day, and it wasn’t going to take much more to push me over the edge. Cool air replaced his mouth as my breast slipped from his mouth.

I groaned with displeasure.

The reprimanding look he gave in return sent my pulse racing. I wanted everything he had to give me. I closed my eyes to accept the waves of pleasure from his fingers, but his deep timbre caught my attention.

“I’ve got a lot of fantasies about your body that we need to make real. I’m not going to stop making you cum for hours. I can’t wait to have my tongue inside you,” he said licking his thumb before returning it to run circles around my clit.

He sucked on my nipples and thrust his fingers back inside me, building me higher. The pressure radiated from my pussy and my limbs quivered as I teetered on the edge. As if coaxing me to orgasm he fingered me quicker. The pressure was too much and I threw my head back not wanting the moment to end yet desperate to climax. The noises of my soaking pussy would have freaked me out with Brian, but with George, I loved how dirty and decadent I was. I couldn’t wait to see his come face. There was so much I needed to do with him. The idea of all the different ways we would fuck overwhelmed me.

Did he sense this? Suddenly he pushed deep and bit my nipple. At the intensity of the pleasure and pain, I came on his fingers. I screamed his name as my legs shook around his hand. He held me against him until I was sure I wasn’t going to fall, and then he lifted me and pulled me onto his body. I hadn’t considered this benefit of our height difference; he could take me where he wanted me. I knew I held the power, though. He wouldn’t push me too far, and I was confident enough to speak up if I wanted something different. He was my best friend, and my trust for him overwhelmed me.

“Can you ride me like earlier?” he asked frantically.

With one movement, I yanked down his boxers and palmed his cock.

“You are Big G!” I squealed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Would I be able to take all of him?

“I’ll be gentle. Take what you can manage,” George said, reading my mind.

It was the challenge I needed. I was not going to be a precious flower. I’d dreamt about George inside me all week, and I wasn’t going to stop until he was as deep as possible.

I continued to palm him, delighting in the way his face twisted with urgency. He jerked in my hand. This man had wanted me for years, and yet I was the one in control, I’d never felt so much power.

I knew he was clean. He’d insisted on taking me to the sexual health clinic before university started, just in case I got carried away with anyone when drunk. I’d made him take the tests as well in solidarity. I was on the pill for the same reasons.

I reached into his bedside table and took out some fancy lube that I’d never seen before. I took my time in dripping it onto my hand before massaging his cock. It was like silk. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I bit my lip with satisfaction. I wanted to watch him come in my hand and feel him twitch in my mouth. I squeezed around the head of his cock, distracted.

“Grace! I want to be inside you.”

“Sorry.” I smiled as his cock jerked against my palm. He jokingly glared at me, before squeezing his eyes tightly together as if he was undergoing sexual torture. “You ready?” I asked with a wink. He was fun to tease.

He let out a strangled groan in response, and I straddled him. I pumped him one more time before slipping him inside me. The first inches were comfortable, but then I took him gradually further inside me. My hips attempted to grind before I was ready. What was with my body? It was desperate for him.

We panted in unison until finally he was buried deep.

“Sit up,” I demanded.

“But won’t that hurt?”

“Sit the fuck up, George. I want to kiss you. We have spent our lives not kissing, and I want your mouth on mine as you cum inside me.” He didn’t argue again.

I held tightly onto his shoulders as I lifted myself before dropping back down. His skin burnt mine as I rode him hard. His chest chair rubbed and tickled my nipples. I wanted his lips on mine, but the zips of pleasure filling my body as he kissed my chest and neck had me moan as if I was trying to wake the apartment building. I rode him faster as he bit and sucked my neck, leaving his mark on my flesh. My thighs and butt got the best workout as I pumped my legs. He filled me completely, and I knew that he was filling me emotionally too. I didn’t care how soppy it sounded I knew it, and I knew I wanted to be with him beyond some mind-numbing fucks.

I was on the brink of orgasm. I pulled his head to mine and kissed him hard. Our tongues fought for control, as our bodies had battled. The urge to come fought against the need to experience an endless pleasure. I’d only longed for this for a week. He’d wanted this for years. Sweat dripped between our bodies, and as I had hold of his face, he gripped my arse, pulling me onto him again and again.

He squeezed my flesh hinting he was close. I knew my orgasm would rip through me and trigger his. Every thrust of my hips met a push of his pelvis, and soon his cock was hitting me deeper and deeper. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight. I kissed him with years of repressed thoughts as if we were eighteen again and dared to kiss in front of our mates.

He released me from the kiss to growl his own needs. “You’re so fucking sexy. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, but I never thought it would be this good. I’m so hard, and I just want to come inside you.” He kissed me again, his lips hitting mine before he eased them apart and massaged my tongue with his. I rode him hard, moaning in his mouth as his grip on my butt tightened. I squeezed my thighs and pressed myself against his chest as I bounced faster and faster refusing to break the kiss.

My whole body began to shake and it was as if arousal filled my veins. Suddenly my orgasm obliterated everything. It rushed through me and I pulled him close and cried into his mouth. He came too. His liquid shot inside me. Filling me just as his cock had. I rode it out, pumping softer and softer. I had a lot more planned for us and I didn’t want to break him.

Eventually, we collapsed on the bed, still holding each other tight. We were panting hard, and sweat dripping down our skin.

I whispered in his ear, “I don’t know what the plan is for the next thirty years, but I want to spend the next thirty hours doing that again and again.”

“We will, trust me. Hopefully, we’ll be doing it for the next thirty years too,” George replied breathlessly as he held me tightly.

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Good Vibrations

Woman in a dressing gown. Friend romance.

Don’t forget to read part 1 & 2 of this friends to lovers romance first, you can find them here: Stories

Good Vibrations

Friday lunchtime finally came. I’d made it through my first lectures, and in between downed a sickening amount of shots while partying with housemates. I’d made new friends too. Did I party this hard during my first time at university? There had been a lot of late night’s spent studying in the library and ensuring I followed the plan. Still, I couldn’t remember going out, nor drinking until my head exploded and there definitely weren’t guys pinning me against the wall as their kisses brushed my neck.

I was still horny, and I hadn’t heard from George apart from a couple of messages checking in on me. Although I hadn’t spoken to him on the phone, I’d listened to him every morning in my shower while getting myself off. His deep voice had caressed my skin as water had cascaded down my body. Every word he spoke made me ache between my thighs. My wetness had joined with the soapy water, and I’d stroked my clit as he’d talked about some inane topic or played a random quiz. No matter what he spoke about, his voice reached inside me as I’d moaned his name. Phone sex with him would probably kill me, not that we’d ever do that because we were just friends and couldn’t be more. How many times had I reminded myself of that this week?

I recalled the one kiss we’d had when we were seventeen. We were playing truth or dare, and Erin from our class, who’d never hidden how much she fancied him and was jealous of our closeness had dared us to kiss. I don’t know what she expected, maybe that he couldn’t go through with it because of our friendship? I would have noticed her disappointment, but his tongue was in my mouth. He was never one to ignore a dare. I was knee walking drunk and had followed up the kiss by vomiting on his shoes. We hadn’t repeated our moment after that. His reason being, “I only have two pairs of these trainers, and I don’t want them both ruined.”

There was another problem in my first week of university. My housemate, Jamie, had decided that he was going to bed me. He was attractive for an eighteen-year-old. But that was the problem – he was eighteen. Jamie repeatedly called me MILF. He thought he was cute, but I was ready to punch him or show him how good sex with a grown woman could be.

But then again, did I know?

I’d had some mediocre sex before university and then Brian. He was pleasant enough, and he knew his way around my body. But I’d never screamed. I’d never woken up knowing that I craved another fuck with him. He was as efficient in the bedroom as he was with a spreadsheet; he got the job done, but it was all about finishing, rather than the fun you could have on the way.

Since moving into halls, Jamie was always by my side, especially on our night’s out. Was he waiting for me to give him the nod? He’d be waiting a long time. My body wanted George, and it was getting harder to ignore it. I needed to fuck George out of my system with a random guy, but I didn’t want to become the legendary university MILF to do it, and I didn’t want anyone else anyway. Why was everything so complicated?

During my last lecture of the week; Performance Anxiety and Motivation, I considered the teenage kiss again, or rather George’s inability to say no to a dare.  Should I dare him to go on a night out with my housemates? I could sell it as giving him fodder for his radio show and insight into his target audience.

I quickly tapped out a message to him and waited. His reply came in quick.

George: I’ll be at yours for lunch, and then I expect to have the craziest student night there is.

My face flushed bright enough to draw a furrowed brow from my lecturer. But I styled it out by pretending I’d lost my pen and then holding it aloft as if it was a prize. But how was I going to style out a visit from George? If only it were as simple as pretending I’d lost my pen. There was the other, more significant issue, too. We had a friendship that I couldn’t destroy for something as minor as a good fuck that I might be able to get somewhere else. I had to stop craving George or tonight could be the end of the most important relationship in my life.

What was I going to do?

*****

“The thing is,” Jamie started as he thrust a hand through his quiff, “you’re hot as fuck, and I reckon you could teach me a lot. So what do you think? You could come to my room now if you want.”

I was standing in the communal area of our student apartment in just a fluffy dressing gown and a pair of my best knickers. George was due in the next hour, and I needed the time to make a lot of effort so I could look like someone who’d made none at all. Men had no idea what we women put ourselves through.

Jamie gave me a wink from the other side of the room. His back rested against the wall next to his bedroom door. All the bedrooms opened out onto the communal area I shared with two other females and three males. In the short time since we’d moved in, we’d affectionally named the space Grand Central. People were coming and going all the time. In two weeks, there had been more sex in this apartment than I’d had in the last couple of years with Brian. I’d walked in on a couple of pairs doing it on the edge of the kitchen sink on different afternoons. I was jealous, but not enough to go near Jamie.

“I’m alright, Jamie, but thank you for the offer,” I replied with a polite smile. His eyes lingered on me as I opened the fridge and reached for the bottle of wine I’d picked up after my lecture. I needed alcohol-fuelled courage to get me through today.

Jamie cleared his throat, and with a sigh, I turned back. I’d tried tough love. What else could I do? How many requests did he think it would take to convince me?

“You’ll change your mind. Already I’m one of the most wanted guys on campus. We’ve got a year together in this flat. One night you’re going to come home drunk and horny, there will be a knock at my door, and then we will have passionate sex,” he replied. Was I as confident at his age? I wasn’t even that confident now. There was nothing aggressive in the way he shared his tale of the future. It was more hopeful and had a hint of wistfulness.

“No, there won’t be, Jamie,” I replied sternly.

“Yes, there will be, my lovely MILF,” he smiled. I don’t think he realised how much of a dickhead he sounded. He believed it would happen. I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t if the level of arousal I was fighting was likely to continue. Imagine if I had come home last week? Thank goodness for George.

“Look there won’t be because, because,” I stuttered at his hopeful face. “Because I have a boyfriend already.”

“And this is the first time you mention it? I don’t believe you. I’ll continue to wait for that knock at my door, my sexy MILF.” He gave me one last smile before heading back into his bedroom.

“He’s coming round in a bit and partying with us tonight,” I shouted to his retreating body.

Why had I wanted to move into halls? I’d wanted to experience university life properly like I’d missed out on the first time. The staff had assured me I would be in an apartment with people nearer my age, but aside from a twenty-six-year-old woman, they were all either eighteen or nineteen.

I unscrewed the wine and took two long swigs, ignoring the nasty sharp taste. It was the cheapest in the off licence.

Maybe I should move, but that would be the whole first-semester rent gone as I’d paid upfront and I’d have to fork out more for somewhere else. There was no point worrying about it now. George was due in an hour. I ticked the jobs off on my finger.

Make-up? Done.

Hair? Done.

But what was I going to wear? I took another swig hoping to clear my hangover and headed back to my room.

Buzz

I froze in my doorway. That couldn’t be George; he was never early. But I couldn’t risk Jamie getting to him before I did. I daren’t imagine his face if Jamie asked if he was fucking the MILF.

I skidded across the lino to the front door and yanked it open. I swallowed noisily. George was in front of me in his night out best. A checked shirt that clung obscenely to his body, smart jeans and brown brogues brought an internal sigh of delight. He was handsome as well as hot, and my sex clenched immediately with expectation.

His gaze trawled from my head to my toes, pausing momentarily at where my dressing gown gaped at my chest. At the heat from his look, sweat beaded my neck.

“Wine already? Bad morning?” He smiled. I wasn’t sure how, but he immediately conveyed his unusual combination of shy cockiness. I heard it when he was on the radio, and face to face he was the same. George was cocky, and he charmed and amused everyone with his boy next door persona, but he had vulnerabilities too, and in groups of people, he often listened because he wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the impact of mental health struggles and had helped his brother through panic attacks brought on from PTSD. He’d been there for me during my most vulnerable moments; when I’d failed my first accountancy exam, when Brian’s parents had embarrassed me at a family party, and the night I found out my mum was having tests for cancer. I’d loved him like a best friend since I was fourteen, but this urge to have inside me while covering my body with kisses and pushing me to climax was different. Was it new or had it always been there, and I’d learnt to ignore it?

More importantly, how did he feel? Was I just Midge, best friend and like a sister. Everything had changed for me, but that didn’t mean it had for him.

“No. It’s not been a bad one,” I replied flustered, heat burning my cheeks when I remembered George’s question. “I, just, you’re early.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the weekend, isn’t it, and I don’t want to waste time faffing at home. Can I come in?” How was his hair bouncy after wearing headphones all morning? I wanted to touch it and run my hands through the strands, but friends didn’t do that. Instead, I beckoned him in and headed for the kettle. He always had a cup of tea around this time. It helped ease his energy after the rush from presenting his morning radio show. “Did I catch you doing something?”

I flushed again, grateful that with my back to him, he couldn’t see the guilty look on my face. I’d listened back to his show while playing with myself in the shower. It had been a great way to ring in my first proper weekend as a student, even if it left me with some conflicted feelings now that he was close.

“Just getting ready,” I replied with forced breeziness, relieved at how long it was taking the kettle to boil. The bubbles and sighs suggested it needed replacing, but I’d realised early on that risking a fire for the price of a kettle was what being a student was all about.  

“What’s the plan for tonight?” George asked. The springs pinged from the direction of the sofa. I didn’t need to turn to know he’d sat on it. His hands probably rested at his knees. I wanted those hands on me, fisting through my hair as he kissed me. I imagined his body towering over mine in bed as his tongue slipped into my mouth. Would we fit together easily? He was nearly a foot and a half taller than me. ‘You’re the same height when you’re lying down’. I’d heard that once, but from who? My thoughts were a distracting jumble of ideas. “Grace. You okay?”

“Huh?” My unrelenting arousal was getting ridiculous. George was my friend, and that was all that mattered. I faked a smile and turned to face him. “Oh yes, a plan for tonight.”

Lots of things happened at once. Jamie’s door squeaked as the wine reacted with my empty stomach. The scream of the kettle sent me into a panic. Were they the catalyst for my desires or an excuse to kiss my friend? In a flash, I straddled George’s thighs. “You need to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

I made the most of his open mouth and kissed him as if my life depended on it. His mouth paused against mine, but any hesitation was brief as his hands stroked my naked thighs beneath my dressing gown. His kiss was hard and fast. I was hungry for him, and my moan echoed between us. His hands climbed higher as I started to grind against him. His cock swelled beneath me. The roughness of his jeans against my barely covered pussy was heavenly friction, and I twisted my hips harder.

A slam came from the direction of Jamie’s door, but we didn’t stop. His tongue massaged mine as he reached around and grabbed my butt cheeks. His fingers dug into my flesh as he pulled me against him. His cock may have been constricted by his jeans, but it rubbed against my clit in a way that had me desperate for more. Shit, I was kissing my best friend, and I wanted him to fuck me.

I pulled back needing to get my breath and my head together.

We sat panting, staring at each other as doors banged and mixtures of Drake and The Weekend played around us. I brushed my thumb across his lower lip while staring into his grey eyes. It was as if they were sparkling. It was the sexiest kiss of my life. I wanted more, but was he playing the part of my boyfriend as I’d asked? His cock was rock hard beneath me, but that couldn’t tell me what was in his heart.

“Well, that happened,” he finally said.

“And?” I said softly, desperately trying to keep hope out of my voice. But my body betrayed me, and I slipped my hand into his hair and ran my fingers through it. The scent of grapefruit seemed to settle between us. I touched his hair again and smiled. Now that I’d finally crossed a barrier, I couldn’t leave him alone.

He squeezed my arse cheek before moving his hands back to my thighs, beneath my dressing gown. His hands were hot against my flesh.

I knew everything there was to know about George and yet sat on the threadbare sofa his thumbs stroking my inner thighs I couldn’t work out what he’d say next. It could be a “we shouldn’t ruin our friendship”, “I don’t like you that way” or “take me to your bedroom” with anything else in between.

“And,” he replied the side of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

The guy who made a living through his voice had gone quiet. The dirty beat of the music around us pounded through my veins. His thumbs stroked higher. It was a matter of moments before he realised how wet he’d made me.

He stopped short of my knickers. “And I don’t know why you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend as there is no one to pretend to, we’re all alone.”

My mouth had gone dry waiting for the thoughts behind his gaze.

“But I suppose someone could walk in,” he said with a gravelly voice. I clenched my thighs at the thought of someone catching us. The public kiss had been a way to convince Jamie I was out of bounds, but now it had become a game.

“Oh, you like the idea of that, Grace?” He laughed in a voice so deep that I pushed my pelvis forward, rubbing softly against him. “I don’t know what is going on with you and right now I don’t care. I want this.”

With his eyes fixed on mine almost as if he was asking for consent, he slipped his finger through the belt on my dressing gown and pulled. The more undone my belt became, the more sensual his smile. Every movement he made was slow and considered and what could have been a quickie in Grand Central was torture. My heart thumped hard as if every sense was on high alert. I swallowed noisily as the belt came undone and fell to my sides. Even with all we had done this felt like the precipice. If someone walked into Grand Central now, we’d stop and probably never talk about it again. With one move, I would be nearly naked in front of him. But was he willing to take that step and change everything? I licked my lips and squeezed my thighs in an attempt to will him further.

“I want this, George.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving my eyes, reached up and pushed my soft robe apart. I sat in his lap, my body on display for him. I wanted to moan, yet we’d barely done anything. I ached for his touch.

He was my best friend, and my fantasy.

His gaze dropped down, and he stared in awe at my body. Brazenly I lifted my chest and presented myself to him. My nipples were pert, and my chest flushed. “Fucking hell, Grace. You’re gorgeous,” he said with a gravelly voice. I’d never felt alluring before, but with him, I was a vixen.

Anyone could walk in on us, and I didn’t care. I’d do anything for George to fuck my brains out on this tatty sofa. He dipped his head, never breaking eye contact until his lips covered my nipple. I hissed with pleasure as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh. I made soft circular movements with my pelvis against his jeans, trying to get more satisfaction to my pussy.

“Please, more,” I moaned as he lavished my breast with his mouth. Wetness pooled in my knickers as he ran his fingertips down my legs. His nails were sharp against my skin, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop crying out.

Even behind my hand, a “oh” of pleasure fell from between my lips. Suddenly George’s hands were everywhere; one massaged the breast that was missing out on his mouth while the other was between my legs. It stroked closer to my pussy. I held it fast scared he might take it away. It was so close to touching me where I needed it.

He leant back to watch me as his thumb brushed my clit on top of my knickers. Before I could respond with more pleading a familiar melody filtered through to my conscious.

It was the ringtone he used for work.

No, please, no.

He paused. I couldn’t blame him. I knew how important his job was to him. His boss rarely called unless it was significant.

“It’s okay, you can answer it,” I said softly, trying to convey that I wasn’t annoyed. Sexually frustrated, but not annoyed.

His features twisted as if he couldn’t decide what to do next. “I’ll leave it,” he said as the tune stopped. “See, all sorted.”

The melody started again. It had to be a serious call.

“It’s okay, really,” I replied with a peck on his lips.

He fished through his pocket as I stood back up and took extra care in retying my dressing gown. I didn’t dare look at him. Maybe he had regrets for the line we’d crossed or perhaps he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

I pretended to tidy up the kitchen, but all I was doing was picking things up and putting them back down again in the same place. I caught George’s end of the conversation, but it gave me no hints to what was happening.

My body hadn’t got the message that playtime was over. My knickers were soaked, and my heart ached as hard as my pussy.

“Bye, boss. I’ll see you soon,” he finished the call.

Don’t drop your shoulders. Don’t you dare look sad, Grace.

I turned to face him, hoping to see some of my disappointment on his face, but he was smiling so hard it would have been infectious if it hadn’t hurt so much.

“They want me to interview Adele. It’s the first interview she’s done in years, and she wanted me! She’s only in town for the next two hours, so it’s now or never,” he beamed as he tidied his hair and pulled his shirt back down. He was gorgeous, and I hated myself for wanting him to stay even though he was about to do the most significant interview of his career.

“I’m so happy for you,” I replied breezily. I looked down to his crotch that hinted at what we’d been up to. “I think I’ve left a wet spot on your, umm, jeans.”

He looked down and back up, and I saw a hint of arousal and conflict in his eyes. It was the only sign that what was affecting me had got to him too. “It’s okay. I’ll get my boss to bring a spare pair to the interview.”

He headed to the door, pausing for a second. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can be. I’ve got to go and prep. See you, Grace.”

The door slammed, and I was left horny, sad and ready to guzzle the rest of my wine before my night out. Would I hear from him again and if so would it be like nothing had happened between us? What if the sexiest moment in my life was already his biggest mistake?

*****

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Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

Grace wakes up in the home of her favourite radio presenter.

Don’t forget to read part 1 first, you can find it here: Part 1

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

The bang of a door dragged me from my sleep.

“Oh, God, no,” I grunted. It was like a gang of bikers swinging metal chains were at a rock concert inside my head. I tried to swallow, but my tongue was thick and dry against the roof of my mouth. Please, I need water. Maybe Brian had done the thing he never did and left me a glass.

Suddenly everything came rushing back to me. There was no Brian in my life or job or apartment. Where am I? Had I gone home with the Aussie barman? No, he was gay, I think. I had propositioned him, though. I rubbed my face with my palms. Did I return to university and sleep with an eighteen-year-old? I’d never live it down. Oh shit, they’re going to call me a cougar, or worse. I groaned louder.

Slowly I opened my eyes, scared where I’d find myself in. Crisp cotton bedding that was as soft as a cloud on my hanging head and blinds that hid a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor made me gasp. I was in George’s bed. A safe space. When we were younger, I used to sleep next to him at all the parties, and we were always platonic. But we weren’t young anymore. I eyed the space next to me, but it was untouched. Where had he slept?

On top of the round bedside table was two full glasses of water and paracetamol. George knew me too well. I gulped down the pills and both drinks before flopping my head back on the pillow. I pulled the duvet up to my nose and breathed in the mixture of vanilla and grapefruit. He always smelt so good. Even his scent on the bedding made my headache better.

Snippets of last night returned like a haunting. I’d propositioned the barman and asked George if I could see his cock. For fuck’s sake. I buried my head beneath the covers.

A soft knock came from the door. What time was it? Lectures started today, and uni was a train ride away. I tried to distinguish outside noises to give me a hint at what time of day it might be, but his windows muffled the sounds of London. How many women had slept in this bed, waking up to his warm body beside them? Did he wake them by stroking between their legs and caressing them gently or did he pin their hands above them and lick down their bodies before thrusting inside them? My body seared as he knocked again. Fantasies about your best friend weren’t allowed.

“Come in,” I replied sheepishly from underneath the duvet.

“Only if you’re decent,” he replied. I pulled the duvet back to see what I was wearing. Shit. When did I take my dress off? It had to be in the night. I wouldn’t have done it in front of George. We’d had some boundaries even when we were younger. So why can’t you remember what you did? And why are you hoping he removed it?

I hid back under the duvet now desperate for answers.

“I’ve hidden my decency for now, but I’m going to need answers. Come in.” He strode straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains. Daylight forced its way inside the bedroom, and I sunk deeper into the bed.

“Not feeling your best?” he smirked as the sunshine burnt my retinas.

I peaked out from beneath the duvet and marvelled how good he looked in comparison to my slummy self. His long-sleeved baseball shirt was tight enough to remind me that I’d touched his solid pecs the night before. My gaze travelled down to his jeans that hinted at the package beneath. Oh shit, I talked about his cock. Did I dream about it too?

Why did he have to have such a sexy voice? My colleagues had often talked about his sexy voice. I’d noticed it, but now I wanted him to whisper filthy things in my ear as he pushed inside me. I couldn’t stop staring at his package. Did it move when I was staring at it? Why do I suddenly care about his cock now? Maybe it was because I was dealing with a long term build-up of hornyness or because I was around students who never stopped fucking.  I remembered again the way George said dick. I needed to get laid as soon as possible and not by my best friend.

“Finished staring?” My eyes flipped to his, and I was relieved to find them crinkled in amusement. “What’s going on with you, Grace?”

I paused and took another breath, filling myself with his scent. That only made things worse. I should leave as quickly and politely as possible.

“I think that breaking up with Brian and then surrounding myself with students who shag like rabbits has made me horny as fuck,” I confessed. Don’t stare at his dick again. But it drew me in, and my gaze flicked that way. His package twitched. It definitely twitched that time!

“You told me all about your hornyness last night. I thought that was you in drunk mode.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Was he trying to hide his cock from me by sitting down? Had I stared that much? Nah, we were friends. Midge and Big G. Oh shit, now I’m thinking about his Big G again. “Especially when you tried to barter with me so that you could see my dick.”

“What?” I covered my face in shame and also because he’d repeated the word dick. The heat was coursing through my body.

He eased the duvet back so he could see my face. His grey eyes were dancing. Was I still drunk? Eyes don’t dance. They seemed to sparkle like never before. “You told me that I could undress you if I showed you my, and I’m quoting here, ‘massive, panty-dropping cock’.”

The heat was now between my legs, and I didn’t want it to go. Even with a hangover, I felt alive like never before. My stomach flipped, and my pussy pulsed. I had missed out on so much with Brian, but I didn’t want George really, I couldn’t. But I had to admit that a big part of me, and not just the part that was wet and aching, did.

Why did his voice have to be so deep and seductive? I knew it was his job to entertain millions with his voice as a radio presenter, but this was me trying to hold on to any dignity I still had.

“And did you undress me?” The idea excited me. My heart rose as I imagined his finger slipping inside my dress and undoing the knot that kept the material together. Was his skin against mine as he lifted the hem and cupped my bum. Did he squeeze it briefly to see my reaction? I wanted his hands pushing the material off my shoulders and revealing my breasts hidden by the thin lace material of my bra. I fought the pull to squirm against my knickers.

I fixed him with a gaze. Humour left the room. Why had we never got together? In sixth form he was too busy screwing anything, teachers included, but never me. It was like our friendship was the most important thing to both of us, and we didn’t want to risk it. Then at university, I met Brian, and that was that. But I’d never been attracted to George before, had I?

“Did you undress me, George?” Please say yes. Maybe I’m still drunk because this isn’t me.

“No. I let you do that once I’d left the room. I needed my sleep for work,” he said quietly. His emotion was indistinguishable. I was too old to be having these feelings about my best mate. He was one of the few friends I had, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Phew.” I forced out my laugh. “You weren’t late for work, were you?”

As one of the best radio presenters in London, I knew nothing mattered more to George than his job. He’d reached his dream of being a breakfast radio presenter a couple of years earlier. It was the most coveted show. Only the best got to be breakfast hosts, and he was undoubtedly the best. The only problem was the way it fucked with his life. That was his other reason for hook-ups. Breakfast presenters were famous for being too exhausted for proper relationships. He was up every weekday morning before sunrise. He got invites to the best parties but was too tired to attend them.

“No, I was fine. I did tell my millions of listeners about my night and how my best friend was propositioning me.”

I sat up straight. “Please no, tell you me you didn’t.”

His gaze dropped down. The duvet had fallen, and my bra was showing. In the old days, it would have meant nothing, but there was heat in his eyes. His gaze seared my skin, and I licked my lips in anticipation, holding my sigh tightly. Something had changed between us and I wanted more. My nipples hardened, and he looked at my face before rubbing his hand across the stubble on his chin. What would that stubble feel like between my legs? I wanted him to scratch my thighs as he licked my pussy. I ached at the possibility of his soft lips against my nipples.

The ticking clock brought me to my senses. “Hold on, if you’re just getting home, that means it’s nearly lunchtime.” I jumped up; my blushes already forgotten.

It was Monday, and I had my first lecture in a couple of hours. I couldn’t miss that.

George was silent as I ran around the room. He stared between my legs. I dragged my dress from the floor and briefly glanced in the mirror to see what had caught George’s attention. The pink lace of my knickers was darker at my pussy. Was I that wet? Had George made me wet before?

I threw the dress on and shoved my fingers through my hair as I attempted to detangle the knots. Where were my purse and shoes? George remained frozen on the bed, his legs wide. He watched everything I did with raised eyebrows. I didn’t have time to worry about it, although it would consume me later.

“I guess I’m going to do the walk of shame,” I joked giving one last look to his parted lips as I dashed out the door.

“You wish,” he called back although it seemed like he was on a delay. He was right, though. I wished it more than I wished I had time to get to my halls before the lecture. I wanted to stay in that bed and scream louder than any of his conquests had before. The reality would struggle to live up to my fantasies, but I wanted to give reality a chance and find out for myself.

What the fuck was going on?

Chasing Rainbows

Somebody That I Used to Know

Night at the bar

“Homeless, dumped and fired.  Sorry I took “voluntary redundancy”, i.e. leave, or we’ll fire you because the company can’t afford to keep you or the rest of hundred people we’re offering voluntary redundancy to.

“My life couldn’t get any worse right? Oh yeah, I lost half my friends, and my parents wouldn’t speak to me. I’ve followed my life plan since I was twelve years old. I used my £25 birthday money and opened my first bank account to save for university. Then I watched my best mate, George, who was born on the same day as me, waste all of his birthday money on CDs from HMV and the biggest McDonald’s ever.

“At university, I met my fiancé, ex-fiancé, Brian. We were studying accounting, and it was his ultimate dream to be a wealthy accountant. I was interested in psychology, but that didn’t fit into my long- term plan of comfortable job, married by twenty-five and first child by twenty-eight so I chose accounting. George rolled his eyes when I told him I’d applied to study accounting. He nearly disowned me when I told him that Brian and I were an official couple. “University is about sex and having lots of it,” he’d shouted down the phone as in the background giggling ladies had screamed his name at his sixth party that week. Maybe university life was about sex for lots of people, including George, but I had a plan.

“Over time, my plan got harder to stick to. I didn’t have the wedding ring or baby by twenty-eight, but as Brian said, we were both completing our qualifications to be certified accountants. We were climbing the ladder. “There isn’t time to do everything,” he reminded me at an old school friend’s wedding as we’d watched George avoid the advances of one of the bridesmaids. It was George who’d sat with me when Brian was called into the office late that Saturday. I’d drank a lot of tequila, cried on his shoulder about not loving Brian that much anyway and then he’d held my hair back as I’d chucked up the contents of my stomach behind the marquee. I’d refused to talk about it after that, assuring George that I did love Brian and it must have been the evil drink talking. But he knew me well enough to know when I was honest. I should have done something about it then.

“Instead, I’m thirty-one, Brian and I have decided we don’t love each other and I’ve moved out of his apartment. Our friends have picked sides, even though it was amicable, and my parents aren’t speaking to me because I’ve diverted from the plan and it must be my fault “because Brian is just the best, isn’t he?”. He was sensible, good at saving and had a brilliant job. What more could a woman want?

“Sex! I haven’t had sex in a year, and before then it was mediocre. That’s what a woman wants; incredible, mind-blowing, headboard breaking sex. The sort that makes you scream if you’re a screamer, that makes you take a photo of yourself in the toilets at work because you’re soaking wet, and that makes you stay in bed all day because you need to do it again and again. But that doesn’t exist beyond books. Right?

“And now, thanks to my godfather who is a university chancellor I’m back at university studying Sports Psychology and living in halls. Over the last week, I’ve felt ancient around these freshers. I reckon at least twenty of them have propositioned me, but I’m way too old to sleep with them, aren’t I?”

“That’s great, lovely, but why are you telling me this? I asked if you wanted another glass of wine,” the Aussie bartender, who’d been supplying all I needed to drown my sorrows that night, stated. Glasses clinked together as he tidied up the now quiet bar. It was depressing to be alone in a bar at eleven o’clock on a Sunday evening, but I was too drunk to care. I toyed with the hem of my wrap around summer dress. It hit just above the knee, except when the wind got up, and I flashed anyone lucky enough to be watching. That might explain the come-ons I had today. Maybe if it blew up in front of the bartender, it would turn him on. I contemplated giving him flash as a taster. “Except now I’m cutting you off. No more alcohol for you, in fact, it’s time you went home.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me either?” I slurred before pursing my lips and giving him a wobbly-eyed wink.

His eye roll wasn’t subtle. “I’m gay, and even if I wasn’t, you’re way too drunk. Is there someone I can call to get you home safely?”

Who did I have? Not Brian, not my parents, and hardly any friends. They’d all be in bed getting ready for the Monday morning grind. One name popped into my head, and I slid my phone over to Scott, the bartender with George’s name and number on the screen. Scott’s sleeves rose slightly to show his tattooed forearms.

“Oh, I like those,” I’d whispered before I dropped my head to my arms and let my eyes drift closed. My dark wavy long-bob hid the world from my eyes. I was so tired. It had been a manic couple of months since the worst day of my life, and now it was the end of Freshers week. I was exhausted keeping up with eighteen-year-olds while wondering how my life went so wrong. The chatter from the remaining patrons lulled me to sleep.

The next thing I remembered was the voice of an angel whispering in my ear. “Grace, can you hear me? Wake up, Grace.”

With his soft home counties accent, he called my name a bit louder. I let out a breath that made my full lips vibrate noisily. Then I drifted off and returned to the lovely dream I’d been having about a sexy, straight bartender who held me against the wall with his thick tattooed forearms.

“GRACE!” the angel had turned to a devil and was hollering in my ear.

I lifted my head slightly and side-eyed the devil. A grin spread across my face when the fluffy, brown hair came into view. “George, you’re here. When did you get here?” My enthusiasm was like that of a teenage girl at a pop concert. I turned to the barman. “Aussie dude, meet my friend George. He’s the tallest man in the world. How tall are you, George?”

“The same height I’ve been since school,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t notice. I coughed into the sleeve of my denim jacket. Gross. When did my mouth fumes get so bad? My stomach dropped as I reached for my wine glass. Damn, it was empty.

I remembered I was talking to someone about my bestie. Of course, the hot bartender. “George peaked early. When we were at school people called us Midget and the Giant. Cause I’m 5 foot nothing to his 6 foot 4. Take off your shoes, and I’ll walk around in them like we used to. It will make Aussie Dude laugh. He needs a laugh; he’s had a hard day. This crazy drunk woman has been telling him her life story.” I giggled at myself.

What did they say about men with big shoes? Oh yeah, they had big feet. No, that wasn’t it. Something about their dicks? I side-eyed George’s crotch. It had to be massive. Why didn’t I know, though? He was my school bestie who at parties I’d share a bed with. He was too busy getting with any female with a pulse to look at tiny, yet curvy me. I’d once been in bed pretending to sleep, after my eighteenth birthday, when he’d had sex with some guy’s older sister on the floor. He thought I was asleep, but I could see what was happening through the reflection in the mirror. I’d never told him about that. He’d kneeled against her as she played with her clit, whispering filthy things as he thrust into her. As she’d screamed his name, he’d covered her mouth, probably worried they’d wake me. But it was his eyes tightly closed and teeth clenched as he came that I’d stared at. I’d wanked over that memory a couple of times at university, even after I met Brian.

George was squatting so that he’s grey eyes were level with mine. All my accounting friends had wanted to fuck him at some point, including my very married boss, but he had kept them at bay. From what I could gather, George had semi-regular secret hook-ups that had no connection to his everyday life. And these days if he wasn’t busy working he was busy exercising. He’d decided to do an ironman competition and was working to be at his peak fitness. “Grace, sweetheart, have you been telling the poor guy about your plan?”

At the reminder of the plan, my face fell. Oh no, I was going straight from happy, annoying drunk to maudlin drunk. “I told Scott that I broke the plan. Everything is broken, Georgey Boy.” I liked to call him that sometimes because I knew it annoyed him. It tended to be a drunk thing.

I dropped my head against the bar, not caring about the bang it made as it hit the wood. Surely that should hurt? I caught Scott’s whispers as he caught George up with what I’d told him. George knew most of it, and he’d been the one who’d convinced me to go back to university. Maybe I should take a leaf out of his book and be shagging my way around uni, but they were all so young! They didn’t even know how good Craig David was the first time around or what a pager was. I laughed loudly to myself, but I wasn’t sure why. I was bladdered. I sensed a couple of people looking over, but I ignored them and played with the cord from my burgundy dress instead. The V at my chest wasn’t low enough to be indecent. How low would I have to bend to show George my boobs? Would he even care? I was too horny, and he was my bestie. I flashbacked to him having sex on my floor. If he was as good at it as I remembered when he was eighteen, he must be Cassanova now. Maybe he’d be the one to give me that one-off experience?

“Okay, Grace. I’m not taking you back to uni now. You can stay at mine,” George helped me off the chair. I got a whiff of his hair, it smelt of grapefruit and was damp at the ends. Had I got him out the shower? I must have been horny because instantly I imagined him soaping himself up as the water cascaded down. What was going on in my head?

My feet hit the sticky floor. What had happened to my heels? As I looked up, I found myself staring at George’s chest. I reached out a hand. When did his pecs get so hard? Even his t-shirt couldn’t hide it.

“Damn, George. You’ve been working out.” I stroked a hand down his chest to his abs and giggled when he sucked in a breath.

“Looks like I’m going to have to deal with you the same way I did when we were at sixth form,” he said with a smile. He took my hand in his, and before I had the chance to ask if we were going to dance, he tossed me over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Midge.”

Ah, the sweet version of my nickname from school. “Don’t forget my purse, Big G,” I chuckled. At school, I’d started calling him Big G when he called me Midge. Our mates thought it was because I’d seen his cock, which according to his exes was big, girthy and every woman’s dream. “Or my shoes. And don’t let anyone see my knickers, they’re my favourites, Big G.”

I giggled again.

“Why do you keep laughing?” he replied, popping a hand on my bum to keep my dress down while striding to the door. The heat from his hands caressed my bum. I gave Scott a wave as we headed outside. The rumble of traffic filled the air.

“Because Mr Strong Man, I’ve just realised I’ve never seen the real Big G close up and I’m wondering how big he is. Can I see it tonight? I’m sure he’d cheer me up,” I tried to coo.

He gave my bum a tap, and I covered my mouth to hold back the moan.

“No, Grace, you can’t see my dick tonight. I’m sorry you’re not having the best time at the moment, but I think it will improve. And just so you know, I’ve missed drunk you. You’re always the most innocent, so when you get drunk, it’s even better. I’m glad you’re not with Brian, he didn’t deserve you,” he replied, but I wasn’t listening. There was something in the way he’d tapped my bum and then said dick that made me ache to have him inside me. Would he spank me if I asked nicely?

I don’t know if it was the thought of his dick or just the alcohol, but I must have passed out soon after with his voice repeating the word dick over and over in my head.

Smutathon 2020 – Cheerleader

Smutathon is today! The aim this year is to raise money for Endometriosis UK. Smutathon is when erotica writers , sex bloggers and adult educators write something smutty for good causes. Endometriosis is a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb starts to grow in other places, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes. It can be extremely painful and debilitating. It’s also a widely misunderstood condition.

You can donate here and read some lovely erotica here.

When one of my friend’s told me that this week she’s been diagnosed with endometriosis I knew that it was time to get writing. What was my prompt? This particular friend calls me her cheerleader, based on some life coaching we had at work. Your cheerleader is someone who supports you and cheers you on in your life. I started with the word cheerleader and here is what happened. Note – one quick story with no editing.

Cheerleader

“Go on show me,” Greg shouted from outside the bedroom door.

“I look stupid,” Kate replied, turning to the side before shaking her head and turning back to face the mirror. Pop tunes from her university clubbing days played in the background. Maybe they’ll get me pumped for tonight.

She shrugged at the black and red cheerleading dress. It was so tight it could have been painted on. The outfit started at her shoulders, creating a deep vee at her bust before travelling down and then the dress pleated at her upper thighs. Kate turned quickly making the skirt part of her dress flutter in the air. A flash of red caught her eye. Why hadn’t Greg’s sister, Jan, told her it was a fancy-dress hen do before she’d agreed to go? The regulation cheerleader costume was indecent. Even the red pants that were a little bigger than knickers and supposed to reduce the flesh on show had “sexy bum” written on the back.

“I bet you look stunning. Let me in. I’ll massage your ego,” Greg said before dropping his voice in a way that made her subconsciously clench her thighs. “I’ll massage other things too.”

She’d never normally wear something like this. It wasn’t that she was against a bit of skin showing, but Saturday nights in town were a thing of her past. Greg was the only one who saw her dressing sexily these days. And I’m scared what they’d say about me and my body. Jan didn’t care what people thought about her. Her main aim was to be herself and have a good time doing it. She’d probably accessorise her cheerleader costume with a flashing penis headband and a giant inflatable cock. Maybe I should be more like her.

Kate opened the door, and Greg let out a long whistle. “Fuck me, honey. You look amazing.”

She shook her head again, forcing her high ponytail to bounce in the air. “I’m going to look ridiculous compared to the other hens. All of your sister’s friends are hot.”

“You’re hot,” he pulled her towards the mirror and eased her in front of him. “When I look at you, I know I’m the luckiest man in the world. I got to marry you. You could have chosen anyone, but that day you asked me out at the office Christmas party I knew I would do anything to call you my wife one day.”

Kate returned his gaze in the mirror. He’d said this to her before. She’d been so drunk at that party that she’d finally advanced on him, her crush for two years, and shouted out her request. Her friends had egged her on all night, and eight gins later she’d declared her interest. Now they were married, and they were building up to another wedding. Jan’s was going to be epic, but before that, there was a hen party to get through.

Greg bent down and pulled up one of her black and white stripey socks, securing it above her knee. His lips brushed her thigh briefly before he pulled up the other one. This time his kisses climbed higher. He paused at the edge of her cheerleader pants.

“Hmmm, ‘sexy bum’. I couldn’t say it better myself,” he said hungrily before giving her bum cheek a little bite through her pants.

“I’m nervous about tonight,” she confessed. Greg stood quickly and grabbed her hips, squeezing gently. She rocked her pelvis gently against him. “I don’t know how I’m going to cope with all those women and their excitement.”

“I know, honey. But whenever you want to come home, call me and I will be there.” He planted kisses against her neck. One of his hands dropped lower before slipping under her pleats. Kate held her breath. “And I’ll send you messages all through the night of what I’m going to do when I pick you up. Maybe I need to get you more excited too so that you rival them.”

“Please,” she released it like a breath of longing. Beyonce’s ‘Drunk in Love’ came on her playlist. How many times had they had sex to that song?

He dragged his nails up the inside of her thigh. Kate made a bleating noise that in public would have embarrassed her. He loved that noise.  

“Or I could give you a taster of what will happen now,” he said between kisses.

He brushed his hand across her pants. Kate grabbed it as he tried to withdraw it and held it against her. “You’re very hot, sweetie.”

Their marriage was often a game of teasing. Their weekends were spent pushing the boundaries of patience and toying with each other’s wants. Tonight wasn’t the first time she’d dressed up in front of him, although the outfits she wore were usually a little more risqué.  

He massaged her pussy through her pants, running lazy circles with his thumb against her heat as he met her gaze in the mirror.

“Don’t stop,” she mouthed. Greg slipped his hand inside her cheerleader pants, and she gasped when she felt the skin on skin contact.

“I love it when you’re wet for me,” he stated before rubbing her clit. He worked faster this time. His finger was rough, and she moaned at the friction. “Tonight, when I pick you up, I’m going to do this to you in the alleyway next to the club. I’m going to stand you in front of the security camera and put a show on for the security guards who will check the footage. How do you feel about that?”

Although anxious about showing her skin, he knew there was one time she was happy to perform. She insisted on exhibitionism when she was drunk and horny. He usually stopped her in anticipation of her embarrassment when sober, but a couple of times she’d gone down on him in car parks in nearby cities and once when camping they’d sneaked to the beach at midnight and fucked quickly. The sand in awkward places had been worth it for the rush. She hadn’t regretted any of their experiences, and they’d talked the other night about pushing the boundaries. But sex near their home with people they knew in the building was something new.

“Do you like the sound of that?” he asked as he eased a finger inside her. She moaned quietly. His smile was against her neck as he kissed her again. What did they say about men? That they couldn’t multi-task? Thank god that was an old wives’ tale.

He pumped his finger inside her a couple of times. She wriggled, but he reached his other hand into her bra and squeezed her breast, holding her tightly against him. He was as horny as her, and his erection pushed into her back.

“You know we’ve only got a couple of minutes before the cheerleader taxi arrives. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to make you come,” he growled. “You might have to spend the night horny and soaking wet.”

She knew he was right. In this position, she usually struggled to orgasm, but it didn’t stop her opening her legs wider.

“Then I guess you’d better hurry up,” she replied, a Cheshire cat smile across her face.

He squeezed her hard nipple between his fingers, causing her to shout out.

He laughed so deeply behind her that her stomach flipped. His cock pulsed against her arse, and she writhed against him. If she was going to spend the evening worked up, then so was he. “I’m going to make you cum so hard in front of those cameras tonight. Your mouth will be in the perfect O shape as I slip my cock inside you.”

The dirty beat of the music was a soundtrack to her moans, and her musky scent filled the air around them.

His fingers pumped quicker as if he was responding to her haste. Greg’s kisses against her neck became little sucks and bites. Was he marking her as his and warning off other guys tonight? She smiled at the idea. With each passing second, her need for release grew, and she moved her body in rhythm with his fingers willing her climax closer. She was panting his name now. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she splayed her hands against the cold glass of the mirror.

“Everyone is going to see me fuck you,” he growled as she ground against his fingers.

“All the men are going to want you tonight.” He grunted loudly. She’d avoided kissing him for fear of smearing her makeup. But I don’t care anymore. She turned to feast on him, something that would help her closer to the edge if not over it.

Her orgasm was so close. One more minute was all she needed. The song filled her limbs, and her arms started to tremble in anticipation. She could go on her night out satisfied.

The doorbell rang as her phone bleeped with a flurry of messages. Women screamed outside the front door.

“Fucking hell,” she screamed in annoyance.

Time was up, but the night had just begun.

His Scent Lingers

“No, you tidy the house. I’ve got to go and buy food for dinner, which I expect I will be making again,” I shout as I slam our front door.

Is this what love means? Unreasonable levels of patience just to get through the day. It’s his friends, Harry and Chris, who are visiting and yet I’m doing all the work. My heels clack against the concrete as I storm down the steps.

It’s not enough that I’ve been to work and back by bus. No one gets the bus in my village except Herbert with the false teeth that fall out every time the bus goes around a corner. It’s like the movie Speed, but with the threat of getting slapped across the face by a pair of gnashers. Then there’s the Karen who I overheard on the phone this morning. She loudly told the caller about her latest wax appointment. Apparently the hair round her “vag”, her words, was as stubborn as her orgasm the other night. She used every toy known to man, including “the one that does both my holes” and still couldn’t get there. What with Herbert and Karen on both my journeys I should be horizontal in a hot bath with a large glass of something red right now.

But we promised Harry and Chris dinner so here I am.

I reach for the handle and offer a silent prayer to no one in particular. He promised he fixed my car today and that was why he hasn’t cooked dinner. If it’s still making that rattling noise I’ll be sneering through a night of social platitudes.

I yank open the door and suddenly I’m hit with his scent. A musky vanilla saturates the inside. With a deep breath I fill my lungs with him. I can taste him on my tongue. My anger flows out of my body and is replaced with something that makes my pulse race. I shiver as my skin tingles. The effect is immediate and so quick it nearly floors me.

Sliding into the driver’s seat I get highlights of our times together. His lips brushing against my neck, his fingertips grazing my inner thighs. Flashes of him tease me as notes of sandalwood and vanilla climb into body easing any remaining tightness in my shoulders. I swallow loudly as I recall the last time we were together; his naked body beneath me as I straddled in him in bed. He’s the perfect stress reliever.

He must have been working on my car all day, maybe he was inside it immediately after his shower. A wisp of memory fools me into thinking he’s sitting beside me. I turn to the passenger seat, but he’s not there. My car radiates with his presence. I start the engine and drive slowly down the road, my thoughts a blur as I head towards the shops.

I regret saying goodbye without kissing him hard enough to leave him thinking of me and what we might do when his friends leave. Why didn’t I stroke him slowly over his jeans or run my hands under his t-shirt? He’s been training a lot recently in preparation for a 10k. His body is tight enough to kiss each ab. The reminder of his endurance when he had me bent over his desk last week sends shivers down my spine.

A trickle of sweat runs down my chest when I remember his hands gripping my hips as he thrust inside me, but I don’t want to open the window to cool down. The air doesn’t deserve the heady smells fanning my lust. The scent of him fuels fantasies of going down on him as he pulls into a layby. His cock in my mouth as the lights from other cars flash by us, strangers oblivious to the agonising need in his eyes as he cums in my mouth.

I slam on my brakes, grateful that no one is behind me. Scrolling through my console I find the name he used when he put his number in my phone a couple of years ago. We met in a club, both of us merry. The number for Sexy Lobster starts ringing and I bite back a smile. The only thing sexy about his lobster costume that night was the body beneath it.

“What now?” he says gruffly, his voice on speaker throughout my car.

“I’m picking you up, meet me outside the house,” I respond without hint of my plans. “I need you in the car with me.”

“It can’t still be broken. There was no noise when I tested it,” he replies, mistaking the reason for my call. “It was the air con. I fixed it.”

I hang up without revealing my intentions.

Without delay I reverse back up the street. I stop so suddenly outside the house that my seatbelt yanks me into my seat. Impatiently I honk the horn.

He strides out, his brows furrowed. I breathe deeply again as he saunters towards the car. He’s only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and yet I’m salivating at the sight of my sexy lobster. I wriggle in my seat, my knickers tight against me reminding me how much I want him inside me. He rolls his eyes when I nod towards the passenger door. Knowing he’s annoyed turns me on more. I want him frustrated and taking me hard.

Thank god I wearing a floaty dress. I had no idea how easy it would make my evening adventure. The soft cotton rests against my naked thighs and I part them slowly while offering him a smile.

He sits down and slams my door. “What-”

I’m kissing him hard before he finishes his question. It’s barely a beat before he responds.  His hands fist my hair as my tongue parts his lips. I’m pulling at his t-shirt desperately dragging him closer. A moan vibrates the back of my throat and my thighs tremble against the leather seat. The gearstick bars my access to him.

Suddenly I pull back. He’s panting hard and his eyes are wide. The last time I caught him wild like this it was at his parent’s house and I surprised him coming out the bathroom. We had sex on the edge of the cabinet while everyone was downstairs playing Christmas games. His brother winked at us when we returned, and the wild look remained on my sexy lobster’s face all night.

I breathe in the lingering smell on his neck. It’s the same smell as the car, but at his natural musk combined with it my guttural moan is released.

“I want you inside me,” I whisper in his ear slipping my hand to his crotch.

His cock twitches against my hand and he licks his lip with the tip of his tongue. “Let’s go inside.”

“No, I want you in the car,” I reply reaching for his hand and sliding it up my thigh. “But not here. I know the best place. Are you up for it?”

I continue to slide his hand higher until it’s against the wetness that has seeped through my knickers. At his barest touch I whimper.

“Fuck yes,” he replies as he dips his hand inside my knickers. “But I get to do what I want with you.”

He fingers me gently, no doubt aware of our neighbour’s security cameras. Will any of them watch it back and enjoy what we’re doing? I’d love to give them a show one night, maybe next time.

His finger moves deeper. “Poppy, I get to do what I want,” he says again adding his thumb to stroke my clit. I can’t deny him anything when he rubs me there, not that I would deny him. His skills, especially with my body, are never ending.

I nod as he takes his finger out and pops it in his mouth. He sucks it hard before pulling it out with a pop. My heart thumps in my chest.

“Come on then, let’s get going. By the way, Harry and Chris cancelled as you left. We have all night.” His grin is broad as he secures his seatbelt.

His musky vanilla scent is everywhere as I speed back down the road.

Best Women’s Erotica

It’s just a mixture of black letters on white paper, how could I be that excited?

 

best women's eroticaAnd yet when I ripped open the package, which I suspected was another of my random eBay purchases, and found two copies of an anthology in which I’d had a story accepted I was bouncing. I thrust the book in front of my boyfriend’s face while simultaneously messaging a photo to my sisters. Why was this one anthology so special? I’ve been in other brilliant anthologies after all. But this was the first time I’d had a paperback that had my name in it. Gripping it tightly in my hand I realised it was a beautiful moment.

In recent months I haven’t written anything, not even a tweet. My day job has taken over my heart and my creativity. The doubt that has dogged my last couple of months destroyed my imagination and my focus.  I need to be bored if I’m going to come up with a story or something creative.  I’m the weirdo who was excited about an MRI a couple of years ago because I was looking forward to uninterrupted time with the heroines and dramas that I was developing. Holding a book that included a story I wrote was a nugget of joy.

But what is my story about? The theme of the anthology is outsiders and risk takers and my story, The Jump, is about the ultimate risk and the hornyness that comes from taking control.

It‘s about a sky dive. I did one several years ago. I’ve included a photo!

sexy skydive erotica Mine didn’t end like the one in my story. There was the same feeling of combatting fears and taking control though. Maybe you’ll see something of your story, as a risk taker or an outsider, when you read The Jump.

But, this anthology isn’t all about me. There are some hot, sexy and fascinating stories in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year (Best Women’s Erotica Series Book 4), which has been  brilliantly gathered and edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Here are the buy links and an excerpt from my story. I hope to be tweeting over the rest of this month my thoughts on each story and what I love most about each one. I can’t wait!

You can buy the ebook here, the paperback here or find more links via the Best Women’s Erotica site here.

The ebook and USA paperback are released 12th December 2018, the British paperback February 2019.

Excerpt from The Jump – Best Women’s Erotica

Poppy’s knuckles ached from the clench of her fists, her nails stabbing into her skin.

Steve took her hands in his, his touch enough to soften her grip and ease her hands open. “That’s one of the best motivations I’ve heard. But I’m going to need you to relax.” His fingers drew circles against her palms, sending shivers up her arms. “You’re angry, I get that. But you’re terrified too.”

Poppy opened her mouth to argue but he preempted her fight. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but save the anger for when you get to the edge of the plane door. It will crush the terror.”

The reminder had her quaking.

Steve’s hands rubbed up and down her arms. “Do you trust me, Poppy?”

She hesitated. “Sure. What have I got to lose?”

“Your life.”

Her face fell.

“Sorry, I can be an ass. Let’s check your equipment.”

Steve helped her into her harness, checking the clips. The intensity of his brown eyes raised her heart rate further. Maybe the increasing adrenaline was pulling her arousal with it, but she basked in the attention he gave her, enjoying the straps rubbing against her crotch when he grabbed them roughly at her shoulders to check they were tight. Once again, his proximity excited her, his scent no longer reminding her of James but associating itself with the hottest guy she’d chatted with in a long time. It might be a blip, created as a reaction to the terror, but she indulged it. Gently, he popped the little hat on her head, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck when he helped her tuck her hair underneath.

To show he’d finished, he gave her butt a quick pat. “For luck. Let’s go. Everyone will be waiting.”

“I’m not going to die,” she whispered, conscious of his gloved hand tightening around hers.

Steve led her to the plane, her body shaking with every step.

“The tap of the butt helped,” she whispered in his ear.

“I hoped it might.”

“Just so you know, you have my permission to do whatever it takes to get me out of the plane.”

Dreams can come true

This week I achieved one of my dreams. It’s one I’ve had since I was 6 years old.

When I was younger there was a national four day farming type show near where we lived. Every year they would attempt to send up hot air balloons. If we were lucky, and the wind was blowing the right way, we’d see the balloons, sometimes they’d even go over our house. I would wait for hours outside my house each night in case I got the chance to see these balloons.

Being young and not so full of wisdom I thought these trips would only be for professionals and that normal people would never go in a hot air balloon. Although I hoped it might be different at the time I never imagined that one day I might have the opportunity to go in one myself.

hot air balloon burnerBut dreams can and do come true.

And this week they did.

As the basket lifted and drifted into the sky I confess I got quite teary. But they were happy tears. Yes, you have strangers chatting and the burner going occasionally but if you can ignore that then you are in your own world in the blue of the sky. No one can get to you, no work calls or social media madness getting to you. It is only you and the world around you.

The experience was one worth waiting for. It was not only mesmerising, it gave me the opportunity to reflect on how beautiful and calming it is when you’re up in the skies. It was what I’ve always wanted.

balloon shadowAs we were heading to the skies lots of children waved us off. They jumped around excitedly, wearing their school uniforms. I’d like to think that as they watched us go they were having their own dreams and thinking of what their lives may be like in the future.

You may have your own dreams. Writing is another dream of mine. I confess I was thinking about characters who could have a balloon ride in one of their stories. Have you found yourself doing an activity and during it have attempted to remember what all your senses are experiencing so that you can use it in your writing?

For me all these things help my writing; whether it’s sitting in a coffee shop, going to a sports event or having a night in a club. I’ve written about all these things. Don’t underestimate the power of living as a writer rather than focusing everything on getting those words down.

Don’t forget to dream either; whether it’s about writing or other things in your life.

I’m going to go and whisper in the ear of six year old me now and tell her that it’s okay to dream big because 30-something Rebecca is making sure they come true. She’s going to be so happy.

dreams hot air balloon

 

Tell me your dreams too, either here or via my Facebook page or Twitter page.

Camp Nano Winner 2018 – Things I Learnt

I did it! I completed Camp Nanowrimo, I’m officially a winner.

You can find out more about Camp Nanowrimo here. Reaching my goal, i.e. writing 50k words in one month, was one of the most difficult things I’ve taken part in as a writer.

Camp Nanowrimo learnt

Let me tell you why:
  • I haven’t written more than 10,000 words on one project for nearly two years.
  • I chose to write a YA genre novel – I’ve never written a YA piece before
  • I had a ridiculously busy month in my day job, launching a project I’ve been leading on for 6 months
  • 6 months ago (i.e. when the day job changed) I lost my creativity

 

Why am I telling you this? Because I’ve learnt some things from my first camp experience, things that may help you too:

I can’t write every day

That’s not to say I didn’t but I found it difficult, nearly pushing myself to illness to make sure I was writing my set amount. I’ve read on twitter about how writers should write every day as it helps you create something. It doesn’t help me! I need time to think out the next section I’m going to write. By constantly writing I can’t find the space to think, tease out and then solve the problems. Which brings me to another point.

I need more than writing in my life

Shock, horror, did I say that out loud? I like to formulate plot, work out points, meet up with friends and discuss writing but I also like having a life that isn’t about writing. That’s not to say writing doesn’t filter through to the other parts of my day but the last month I ditched a lot of things to get the novel written; exercise, socialising, sleep. I’ll be spending the next month trying to lose the weight I gained during the month!

I can write more than I thought I could

I asked my boyfriend for his thoughts on what I might have learnt and this was his contribution. It’s easy for me to see the negatives but he’s right. After the first week I didn’t believe I could achieve the 50k goal, after the second week I didn’t believe I could achieve it, even up until a couple of days before I finished I knew it was touch and go. As a writer you might get negative reviews and lack of interest from publishers but ultimately for me no one brings my writing down like I do and I need to remind myself of my strengths and what I’ve achieved instead of what I haven’t.

Never underestimate the importance of chatting with other writers

There was one particular moment when I was sitting on a train, knowing that was my best time to write and yet the motivation had disappeared. I chatted with another writer on twitter, Anne Pyle, about needing to write and she gave me the energy and focus I needed. Within 10 minutes I was back on it. I wrote another 2,000 words that day. I don’t think I would have written another word if it hadn’t been for her.

I love writing

In the last year when my creativity left me I was unsure whether I should focus on my day job rather than writing. But this month reminded me that I do adore writing, even when it’s a struggle to get pen to paper. I love channelling things I see and imagine into writing. It’s a great place to work through my frustrations too.

And a last thing I want to share. The day after I finished my 50k novel an email popped into my inbox. A short story I wrote last year has been accepted into an anthology.  What a way to end the month!

What did you learn from either this or a previous Nanowrimo? Leave your comments here or on my Facebook page or Twitter page.

I’m Back aka What Happened to my Creativity?

creativity

I’m doing my first Camp Nanowrimo and I’m loving it… when I’m managing to find the time to fit it in and not get stressed!

For those of you wondering what I’m talking about nanowrimo refers to national writing month, although people from all over the world do it. Read more here.

The aim is to focus on a writing/editing project. You set your own target and get on with it. You also bunk with other virtual cabin mates and spur each other on. I’m in a cabin with lots of amazing people including Jolie Vines , (who I love tweeting with and has great book recommendations), Zoe Ashwood and ElleThorpe. But there are other fantastic people in

the bunk too

I didn’t join until a week before because I wasn’t sure I could fit it in and for another reason.

Over the last six months my creativity and ability to write has been as dead as a dodo. I’ve thought about writing, talked about writing, tweeted about writing but nothing has been written. And it has terrified me. How can I call myself a writer if I can’t write?

Dreams

Things started to change about a month ago. I started to dream again.

dreams

By this I don’t mean I developed goals and aims. At night I started to have dreams. I’ve always dreamed and remembered my dreams but for the last six months nothing. But then one night I had a vivid dream and then, a couple of nights later, another. The dreams started to come. Some were terrifying and sickening but yet brought a lot of happiness because that meant my creativity was coming back! It’s had some similarities to a tortoise but hopefully that means I will reach my writing goals too as we know the tortoise won in the end, even with his slow pace.

I’ll tell you more about what I’m writing in my next blog post but for now I wanted to share my fears from the last six months and say that things can change with time. If you’re struggling with writing or your creativity leave me your comments here or on my Facebook or Twitter page.

I always thought writer’s block meant not having ideas, which I’ve still had in the last six months. For me writer’s block was an inability to put words to page and develop an idea. Let’s hope that lull is gone for good. “I’m back, Baby”.

To read more of my writing blogs click on the Blogging category on the right of the page or read one entry here.