I've been thinking about how to explain that spiel I mentioned, because I am very interested in your response to it, but I don't know how soon I can get it written up. What I'll do is put it here with your name above it (like this paragraph) so that it's clearly marked and you don't need to bother reading any other stuff I post here between now and then. This blog is sort of a dumping ground for many things, so today's post is on a different topic altogether.
Thanks for your patience; oh, and if you'd rather that I PM the "spiel" to you instead of putting it here, or if you'd rather that I skip it altogether because you've got other things on your mind, all you need to do is tell me in whatever way is comfortable and convenient for you, and I won't be bothered a bit by it. Thanks!
Today I'm dumping a scrapped RP post here. It's a little racy, but it's mostly just suggestive; the real smutty smut-smut was supposed to happen later.
I wrote this as the first post for a 1x1 RP with me playing a new male teacher at an all-girls boarding high school, one of those imaginary secret ones where the girls get diddled right and left as part of their schooling. Go ahead, laff away; it's not only an utterly unoriginal, generic, stereotypical setting, but it's also obviously and unapologetically designed for maximum smut value. There could be a hundred or more RPs at Elliquiy already with a similar or identical setting.
In all seriousness, though, this is the sort of trifle that I come to Elliquiy for, primarily; this blog is just a temporary, side thing. I use "adult RPing" as an excuse to practice writing short fiction, and I approach the pornographic content is an incentive, something to motivate me to write. Lots of people do something similar at Elliquiy, while others approach RPs in totally different ways for totally different reasons, and somehow we each manage to find something we enjoy that keeps us coming back for more. It takes all kinds. (I so love that saying.)
I'm dumping this here because the person I hoped to do the RP with declined. She was very polite and friendly about it, so I have no regrets about approaching her anyway.
I'm still shopping for a new RP or two, and I still think this could work as the intro post for one, but perhaps it wasn't meant to be (alas!). :)
BTW, I find these kinds of RPs hilarious in all sorts of ways, but that doesn't mean I'm not quite happy to participate in them. I love smut! I'm a dude. I get horny. I jerk off. Big surprise, huh?
I don't jerk off to RPs, but I find the well-written ones arousing in a theoretical, intellectualized way.
(Do you think it's easy to write good smut? I think it's so difficult that it's nearly impossible to do. When I see really well-written smut -- and let me tell you, there are a few smut-writing prodigies
on these boards, if you have the patience to dig deep enough -- I have enormous respect and admiration for it. I have enormous respect and admiration for good writing of any kind, and "erotica" seems as valid a genre as any other, on the surface of it, to me at least. I tend to think that it's how it's done that determines whether it's any good or not, so well-written erotica can be breathtakingly thrilling. I'd like to learn to write well in various genres including this one.
But like I said, I've got a long way to go. That's alright, I'll have plenty of fun on the way, even if I never get there. :) Here, you be the judge. (Stop that snickering over there, you!) hehehehehehe
It wasn't a SMACK
; only a smack.
Because it came from down the hall. That wasn't the most extraordinary thing about it, though; what came next was shocking -- scandalous, even. Probably illegal in some states, for all he knew. What came next was barely audible from his classroom, but it was instantly recognizable nonetheless, there was no mistaking it.
It was a single note elicited involuntarily from the throat of a eighteen-year-old girl.
He didn't know enough about music to identify the note, but there was only one; it was a short yelp, a kind of gasp, probably accompanied with a sudden exhalation, though he couldn't hear that part.
His eyes wandered to the corner of the classroom in which he was sitting behind the instructor's desk. The door was closed and there were no students at this hour; classes were out for the day. Over in the corner was a leather riding crop, leaning at about a 15-degree angle from vertical, handle up. It might have been what the other teacher was using down the hall, or something similar; each classroom was outfitted with a range of such devices.
These were standard instructor's equipment here, not unlike chalk or blackboard erasers.smack. (yelp)smaCK. (yelp!)
He noticed that he wasn't aroused -- his cock was flaccid, disinterested. Not because spanking didn't turn him on; it could. But he was far too freaked out to get turned on by any of this yet.
Fifteen minutes ago, he had stood at the front of a room filled with eighteen- and nineteen-year-old ...'Children.
'Children? Certainly not,'
he thought, remembering accidental glances from the corners of his eyes as he had taught this first class on this first day of the fall semester, accidental glances brimming over with curving flesh, curving flesh carefully covered with modest and unrevealing uniforms, but curving flesh nonetheless. That was the part -- those were the parts that made it most obvious that these were no longer children by any real measure, although their emotional maturity might be dubious indeed; there was no mistaking that physically, these were women
; fully equipped as such, with all the implications that came with that; implications for them; implications for him
Funnily, he suddenly remembered that he had conducted that first geometry class using the techniques that came most naturally to him, but they were ones that really belonged in the outside world, not at Chestershire. In particular, he had spent the entire forty-five minute session with his eyes either making direct eye contact with students or else trained on inanimate objects. One or the other; never, never, ever trained on anything else
. See, the else
could be a problem -- in the outside world, that is; because the else
might contain any number of delectable and utterly forbidden objects.
Letting one's eyes stray was the very first thing that this twenty-seven-year-old male math instructor had taught himself not
to do, to never ever do under any circumstances while teaching, because that was one of the things that got you in very serious trouble indeed while teaching high school students. Let your eyes wander, and before long, they'd be sure to gravitate towards a beautiful body part of a woman within viewing range, and that woman would be a student, if it was class time; and staring at students' bodies -- uh uh
. Big, big no-no.
After all, this was precisely why all-girls' boarding schools like Chestershire normally preferred hiring female teachers; much less chance of straying eyeballs, naughty glances, and all the taboo activities that might follow. (Normally in the outside world, that is. Chestershire's secluded, private campus in the Pennsylvania woods was staffed almost entirely by men, for specific reasons which the outside world would find quite -- abhorrent.)sMACK.
No yelp this time? Apparently not. Perhaps she was biting her tongue. 'Poor girl. Poor WOMAN, dammit; these are women.'
He had to keep reminding himself.
This whole situation was going to take a lot
of getting used to.
Chestershire was many things, but "normal" wasn't one of them.