Sunday, June 28, 2009

The joy of writing sex.
So I'm writing this novel, Damaged Goods. My Heroine's a nineteen year old former hooker - former as in she quit in chapter 2 after meeting the hero. Needless to say her whole attitude about sex is seriously warped. Men must like it if they're willing to pay, but she can't believe any woman could enjoy the act. Then she meets the hero.

He's a little warped himself, let's just say that he hates women, has a very valid reason, and leave it at that. The point is, for the first time ever they feel something more than just a need for money or to scratch an itch.

She's actually looking forward to penetration, even if she doesn't believe the Earth will move or anything like that. And her lifestyle has taught her a few tricks she intends to use to make sure she pleases him, since she more than likes the guy.

Problem is, she never gets a chance to use them. As they begin emotion and feeling take over and her mind goes blank. All her tricks are forgotten as she surrenders to his gentle teaching. He administers some big time foreplay, involving two fingers and a thumb - need i say more, and she ends up with her first ever orgasm.

Talk about rock the boat.

She can't believe it. And hell, he's never been anybody's first before.

He barely gives her time to recover before he's at it again, this time with full penetration. She grabs hold and this time they ride over the edge together. I got hot just writing the stuff.
So naturally, the poor girl has to spoil everything at the end. She's grateful to his brother for persuading her to tell him the truth because man did the truth set her free. And as she falls asleep in our hero's arms, she whispers his brother's name.

Talk about a mood destroyer.

Girl's gonna have to pay big time for that little mistake.

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