Continuation of yesterday's post. Apparently writing erotica is harder than I expected. And to think I've read several. I wonder how the likes of Sean Wolfe and Michael Thomas Ford do it? Heck, how do slash fic writers do it?
Proceed with (slight) caution. :)
* * *
"What?" I asked, not sure if I heard Allan
correctly.
He leaned and gave me soft kiss on the lips in reply. He
pulled back and looked at me again, his eyes serious.
It was my turn to lean forward and kiss him.
Rougher this time. More urgent. I sucked on his bottom lip until it started to swell.
Then I pushed my tongue into his mouth, the way men do in the porn VHS tapes
and VCD collection I have accumulated over the years.
So this is what French-kissing feels like. At least, how I
thought it feels like.
The scene suddenly shifted and I found Allan and myself
already inside a shower stall, the steady stream of warm water overhead sweet to the taste as it glued our lips together. For some reason we were transported from
the call center locker room and into the shower room of our new office. Even
from the intense makeout session, I spied the cream-and-black tiles of the wall, and felt the cool glass sliding door that separates the shower area from the toilet pressing on my
naked back.
I never found out who was at the shower before we did. And
apparently I'm already naked. And wet. And very hard.
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