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 Female x Male Writing is Sexy

Discussion in 'Female Requests' started by Gypsy, Oct 12, 2018.

  1. Gypsy

    Gypsy Wandering Wordsmith Member

    Messages:
    30
    Local Time:
    4:57 PM
    Writing styles and interests matter even more than kinks. Even stories that include sex as a major plot point still need additional plot to make the sexy bits thrilling to write and to read. If it's only about what goes where, who moans when, it becomes dull and repetitive and the thrill is, as they say, gone.

    I am a picky writer. I'm also not a writer for beginners, or people who are shy about letting their writing be seen. I will only write on forum threads open for other members to read if they choose. I am happy to show prospective partners how I write -- through writing samples or writing prompts mainly, as I haven't done much here -- and I will want to see something of how a potential partner writes.

    I'd rather make my confession upfront than have to turn down perfectly nice people who have other preferences. I don't like saying 'no'.

    I don't have any specific kinks I focus on writing, but there are only a few subsets of kinks that I won't write under any circumstances, simply because proving I can is not worth the emotional upheaval it brings: causing more than mild pain for sexual pleasure, humiliation & degradation, bodily waste. There are other things that I will write if there is a good, reasoned story, but have no interest in for casual writing.


    The genres I don't write are superhero, hard sci-fi, and anime-inspired. I also don't do much with fandoms, and would be more inclined to write in a specific established setting than making use of canon characters or building off existing stories.


    I love supernatural stories, slice of life, contemporary drama, fantasy, dark fantasy and horror, westerns, historical and alternate reality fiction. I also love dynamic characters. The characters I write are usually smart, stubborn, and ready to do what needs to be done. In historical settings where women are bound by societal expectations, my characters act accordingly to fit in with the times when it comes to public actions, but it's not unusual to see them working behind the scenes to accomplish their goals and dreams, and not waiting for fate to hand it to them on a conventional silver platter.

    So ... I'm not going to list any specific ideas at the moment or any pairings. I will invite anyone interested to take a look at the writing sample I left on my information thread, and if you like what you see, send me a message. Point me at what you've written. Give me a writing prompt -- but if you do, please make sure that some of your writing is available somewhere that I can see it. I feel like these info threads are sort of a two way street -- I'm putting something out there that others can see that shows something of my mindset, and my writing ability and would like the same.

    I should probably also mention that I am not a fast poster - 1-2 times per week is my general response time -- - I write generally 5-6 paragraphs for a post, and I already have several stories in progress. If you're looking for daily posts, or multiple posts per day, then I am not your huckleberry.

    I look forward to any responses. If you made it through all of this, congratulations -- and we might just have the potential to write something wonderful.

    Disclaimer: All of this is my opinion in relation to the type of writing I like to do. Styles differ; none are any more right or wrong than the other.
     
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  2. Gypsy

    Gypsy Wandering Wordsmith Member

    Messages:
    30
    Local Time:
    4:57 PM
    This is a sample post for a story that lasted long enough for me to fall in love with the character, and I'd like to tell more of her story. She's a caterer, and the original story had her catering a birthday party, where she met a professional baseball player, and interest sparked. She is a sort of apple-pie, girl next door and he was into a lifestyle that he didn't want held up for the inspection of the general public. It was meant to be an introduction into a formal BDSM relationship, but I think that there's a place for her in any sort of story involving someone living the high life and perhaps seeking ... a port to weather the storms.

    [​IMG]

    "We're running low on kebabs, and brats. There's plenty of the Tempeh burgers. Make sure we've got enough ice, and make sure the desserts don't come out until after the cake is cut."


    Despite a near disaster when the ice maker had clunked and groaned and gone ominously silent, everything had gone off without a hitch. The vegetarian choice for the party, Tempeh burgers and lettuce wraps, had met with approval after Valerie had quickly rattled off the ingredients and confirmed the method of cooking and transport smilingly, confidently, serenely. No juicy brat had been cooked on the same grill, no chicken or beef kebab had been prepared on the same table, or been transported in the same chiller. The hotdogs were local and hand-prepared, as were the brats. The bread was fresh baked, either in her own kitchen, for the specialty rolls, or sourced from a trusted, local bakery, undeniably fresh.

    Valerie had worn her apron when helping unload and set up, wrestling boxes and trays with determination. She hadn't had to hire extras for this event, so everyone there had experience. Things were finally coming together, everyone working together, anticipating what needed to be done, though Valerie still liked to summarize things, just for her own peace of mind. Now, she was dressed elegantly but simply, not out of place with the guests, really, but easy to find if anyone needed anything or had questions or concerns.

    The menu had been relatively simple, thankfully, suitable for an outdoor event with a mixture of adults and children. The most critical menu items were the birthday cake - a chocolate and caramel layer cake shaped and decorated like a baseball, and individual chocolate and red velvet cakes with custard centers -- also, of course, baseball shaped.

    There would be one last push when it was time to roll out the dessert cart from the refrigerated storage, but for now, it looked like she could breathe ... and circulate.

    Half the battle was in the food. The other half, if you discounted the occasional difficulty in getting paid, was in networking. If she was lucky, every event she catered, brought her at least one more potential job, ideally two. In the pocket of her white jacket was a small stack of cards, the logo and type neat, elegant, organized.

    She heard her name being called, and turned, smiling. Smiling was important. She would have done it if she hadn't loved her job, but it was easy to smile when her clients were happy, earnest people who wanted nothing more for their guests, their friends, their son and his friends, to enjoy themselves at the party. The smile she gave to the Sutters was warm and genuine, and she did not hesitate when Diane Sutter waved her over.

    At twenty-eight, Valerie Randall had been the proud owner of A-Plus catering for just slightly over a year. The loan that she'd reluctantly accepted from her mother, who she'd talked two a grand total of three times in the last seven years, was a little more than half repaid. With any luck, she'd have the rest of it paid back in another year. That was her goal, her ten-point plan, and she was determined to work as hard as she had to to make it happen. She was blonde, brown-eyed, pretty, and often described as 'too serious'. When she laughed, truly laughed, it lit up her face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Her biggest regret, particularly while she struggled to reach things on the top shelves of the kitchen, was that she was not tall. Indoors, she could wear heels to help with that, but for an outdoor event, she resigned herself to looking up to meet the eyes of most of those whom she greeted, other than the excited, bustling children.

    "Mrs. Sutter, Mr. Sutter, it's a lovely party. I hope that everything meets with your approval? I've just sent out for more ice, and everything is ready for ..." she glanced down at Bobby, wearing his oversize hat with obvious pride, and smiled broadly and adjusted her word choice ... "the highlight. We can bring it out whenever you're ready."

    She did not recognize the tall man with them, but assumed that he was one of the guests, possibly a relative or colleague. She knew, of course, that Don Sutter was a pro baseball player with the Pirates -- Teddy, one of her assistants, had proudly offered a synopsis of his entire career when he found out whose party they would be working -- but most of what he said had been Greek to Valerie. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a quiz later, but so far but the Sutters had been friendly, down to earth, real people ... not celebrities. Valerie had been immensely relieved, though Teddy had been a little bit crestfallen.

    "Everything's great, Valerie. Tyler was just asking about where the food came from. Don tried to convince him that he did the cooking, but he wouldn't buy it." Diane made the introductions, and Valerie looked up, and held out her hand ... and, for a second, froze as she found herself staring into one of the most beautiful pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

    Bobby helped her out, taking of the hat that he was wearing, and holding it out for her inspection. "Uncle Tyler gave it to me. It was his Rookie hat, and now it's mine."

    Valerie remembered to breathe, and looked down to smile at Bobby. "It's a great hat - and it looks good on you. Very all-star." Diplomatically, she didn't mention that wearing it while walking or running might present something of a problem, as it immediately slid down perilously close to the young man's eyes as he plopped it enthusiastically back onto his head."

    Then she looked back up. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Bingham. I'm glad that you're enjoying the food, but I hope the very best is still to come." Valerie could feel the flush of heat in her cheeks, but she held her ground. It's the sun, she told herself firmly. I didn't put on enough sunscreen.
     

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