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TThe Big Performance

When a stage manager gets carried away reading erotic poetry in an empty theatre she imagines an audience is watching her and does something she’s only fantasised about. However someone really is watching her and before long the pair of them are putting on a really big performance!


EXCERPT

I closed my eyes then, imagined what it would be like to be on stage for real, in front of an audience full of people and saying “when you fucked me” over and over. My body was hot and tingling and I put my hand between my legs, running my thumb over the seam of my jeans, sending gentle pressure down to the hot and responsive spot underneath.

“When you touched me, When you fucked me, When you touched me, When you fucked me, fucked me, fucked me, fucked me.”

I was so turned on now. I loved the thought of sitting up here, stroking myself and saying dirty words with a whole theatre-full of people watching me, getting off on me getting myself off.

I pulled in my stomach and slid my fingers down inside the waistband of my jeans. I pushed the soft cotton of my panties aside and slipped my forefinger into the crease of my pussy.

I couldn’t believe how wet I was, the moisture had seeped all along my lips and wetted my finger as soon as I touched myself. I circled my finger a couple of times, then added a second finger.

I ran my fingers down between my lips, slumping down in the chair so my hips were thrust forward to give me easier access. I pictured myself naked, or in skimpy underwear sat, just like this, on stage with a busily silent auditorium.

I could hear my own breath harsh and ragged in the silence, filling the huge, empty space. My hand was working fast now, slipping and rubbing across my pussy as I panted for breath and muttered those two lines from the poem over and over.

Inspired

So what inspires a story? That’s a hard question to answer because it changes each time I write a story. Sometimes sheer horniness is the inspiration, but that’s rare. It happens when I’m keyed up and sex is being denied, so the frustration grows greater and greater until all I can think about is sex. When I reach this stage I find myself fantasising continuously and inventively and it is in this state that I create some of my long-running sex-fantasies, which eventually get too hot to stay in my head and have to be written down. “Tease” – the story I’m currently editing – was conceived like this, as was the next story to be worked on, “For Love Or Money.”

However this is by no means the most reliable method of inspiration, especially not now I’m married to a handsome, sexy man who satisfies me pretty much whenever I demand it – my frustration just doesn’t reach boiling point any more. Something which I find sparks off ideas more than anything is the simple need to write a story. On Literotica, for example, they run a story contest called Survivor which encourages authors to create as many stories in a year as possible and gives extra points if they are in different categories.

When I was a contestant in Survivor I attempted to fill every single genre of erotic story, it was this that led me to explore categories that I had not personally found erotic or exciting – or even palatable – and try to create a story around them that would excite me as a reader if I happened across it. It was this attempt that led to the creation of “A Bad Influence”, my ‘first time’ story that is due to be released on Excessica next Monday. Having created this first time tale, I grew attached to the characters and felt that a first time could only lead to a second and third and so on – and what would happen then? I was compelled to follow them for a little longer and watch as the character who had been so sweet and innocent grew to be even filthier than the original bad influence!

Pictures can also inspire stories, and not necessarily by just looking at them. I was thinking, the other day, about a photograph that I would like to create and whether it would be good as a book cover for any of the things I’d written. Having realised that it wasn't, I was disappointed, as it seemed ideal as the cover to an erotic story. Only one thing to do, I decided, and that was write a story to go with the photo. Now if only I could find a title so I could tell you what the story is called…

Published!

Please let me know how you like it...

A Bad Influence for sale

In order to celebrate I am also running a competition to win a free copy of the book. All you have to do is comment here on the theme of 'A Bad Influence' - doesn't matter if the bad influence was you, someone else or just a story you heard from a friend, just go ahead and post. I will pick my three favourites and those will then go to a poll - so get posting! The competition will close next Monday.

x
~Emelia~

Funny thing...

It's amazing how, when talking about sex (and therefore erotica) people tend to assume you're joking. I was at my volunteer organisation the other day - and no, I won't say which one - when someone asked to use my laptop. I ummed and ahhed for a second, having been editing a story whilst I waited for something to do, then told them to wait a second.

"OK, but don't go looking through my other files."

"Why? Got something to hide?"

"Sure," I replied, laughing, "I don't want you to read my erotica."

I leant over, saved and shut down the story in question.

"Oh dont worry about that," laughed the bloke who was about to use my laptop,. "Don;t you know me at all? I expect people to share stuff like that."

Thing is, right, he thought I was joking. If I had been a bloke there is no doubt that 'porn' would have been assumed, but no, I'm female, therefore I could only be joking about having x-rated material on my computer.

Oh well. It's a great help to my secret alter-ego. And by the way - if you want to throw people off the scent - it seems that the best way to hide is in plain view. Be bluntly honest and no-one will suspect you for a moment...

PS- even freakier someone accidentally called me Emelia (my writing pseudonym only) instead of my true name the other day. Gave me a bit of a funny turn, I can tell you - I thought someone had put 2 and 2 together and come up with a Googol...

Getting There

Hey, if you're interested in buying my work then don't worry - things are moving on apace! The edit & blurb have been done, the book cover is being decided upon as I type then there's just a bit of formatting and we're up and running. Watch this space - A Bad Influence, Part One - new and improved - coming soon!


I will post a full preview - book cover, blurb, excerpt and link as soon as it's ready to go.



For more information and further erotic authors see

www.excessica.com

The Reason Why...

I have set up this blog in order to promote my writing and to inform my 'fans' of new writing being published. I know this is a terribly dull first post, I promise I will try my best to remedy that.

I have been writing erotica for about two years now and, whilst I am hoping to eventually write some 'straight' novels, where sex is just an interesting side dish rather than the main course, I will probably always write erotica as well. I just enjoy it too much to stop. I love all sorts of different scenarios, setting them up so they're enticing and compelling and then carefully writing the sex scenes so that they lead the reader through the sexual act without launching them back into the real world through an incautious word or clumsy phrasing. I would simply love to be making some money from my writing. Not necessarily a living, because that might take the joy out of writing it, but a bit of extra money just to prove how much pleasure people get out of the work I've put into a piece - well - that would really mean something.

Please mark me as a favourite and come back to check my blog - I'll be having some work up for sale soon. In the meantime, here is a little excerpt to wet your whistle...

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We sat chatting for a while, getting deeper and deeper into the bottle of vodka. The discussion was getting pretty intimate now, talking about sex and fantasies. Compared to them I felt pretty inexperienced and my fantasies seemed pretty tame, so I kept quiet and just listened. Mark’s deep, educated vowels rolled around Louise’s sweet, husky tones, whilst both of them vocalised sexual ideas that made me flush with embarrassment and desire.

Mark noticed how quiet I was – how I swayed to the music and he grabbed hold of my hands to pull me up. He put his arms around me – holding me up as much as holding me to him – and started swaying with me, his cheek against mine.

Softly he began to repeat my own fantasies back to me. Things I had told him on the phone, late at night, my tongue loosened by arousal, were now fed back to me in soft, husky tones, his breath caressing my ear as his lips almost touched it.

I was so drunk that everything had a dreamlike quality about it, but I was vaguely aware that he was speaking just loud enough for Louise to hear and she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning forwards, her eyes fixed on me.

As I looked at her she got up – walking over to join us. Standing behind me she put her arms around my waist and leaned her cheek on my shoulder with her lips against my neck her body swaying with ours. Softly she added her own fantasies in my other ear, whispering against my neck the things she wanted to do to me. I was lulled into an erotic trance by the music, the movement, the alcohol and the whispering, the hypnotic whispering that swept through me like a chill.

I sighed when Louise’s hands slid under my top and stroked my stomach and, when she took hold of it and tugged it up I was compliant, allowing myself to be undressed. I could feel the slippery silk of her camisole top pressed against my naked back and the soft cotton of Mark’s t-shirt against my front.

Mark’s hands were stroking my hair and my upper back, whilst Louise’s stroked my belly and breasts. When her hands slipped downwards, under my waistband, I tensed for a moment but soon relaxed into the sleepy desire that overcame me and made me unable to resist her skillful fingers stroking and teasing me.

She seemed to be struggling to reach that most intimate part of me so, almost unconsciously, I pulled my stomach in so she could penetrate my clothing and finally touch me as I wanted her to. Realising it was impossible, I tried to reach down to undo my jeans, but Mark held my arms firmly around his neck, restraining me, as Louise slowly undid the buttons: each button a further step into arousal.

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The above is an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, For Love or Money, soon to be released on www.excessica.com