Jocelyn's Corner

When writing is habit, when writing is effort, success.

So much of writing is showing up daily. I read a lot. Not always books, not always other people’s posts, but articles, and stuff online in constant flood of material to consume. I’m sorry, but I’m selective and private with what I read, and that isn’t always other people that have been very kind and respectful.

I just had a revelation, let me know if you have this too. People don’t like reading about “you,” or “me.” They don’t really care what I’m thinking, and it is so easy to write a blog all about myself and what I’m doing and thinking.

You don’t fucking care! Really! You don’t! So, on to the topic at hand; writing.

Read this article put out by the amazing Brain Pickings.

I get Maria’s newsletter and she is exceptional. She is the artist of our age that I aspire to be.

In her most recent article, “Rilke on the lonely patience of creative art” she distills the main message of this author or artist. I don’t know who Rilke is, but the words Maria relates resonate.

Artwork, creative endeavor, blossoms from patience. Here is an excerpt:

Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer. It does come. But it comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly still and wide. I learn it daily, learn it with pain to which I am grateful: patience is everything!

My god! The metaphor! The writer is the tree spreading seeds and leaves for the coming summer not knowing if it will come or not, but believing that it will, being patient that the sun will warm again.  “Summer comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them.” Wow.

I want to write daily, with effort, with patience and dedication believing that in the future, in my summer the fruits of my labor and efforts will be manifest and realized with more cash and success than I know what to do with. I want to be able to write for a living at all times beholden not to work, or a job, but to hours spent penning thoughts and words to page with care and effort.

I fear I don’t have that same dedication to excellence that these other successful authors have. I vomit out prose and poetry and through sheer volume improve but avoid doing what I preach so righteously. Where is my revision? I’ve started pumping out books fast on a weekly schedule to get noticed, to get recognition, and I’v had some little success, hitting $60 a month in revenue, which sucks, but is something at least.

So I’ll keep showing up, doing my daily chores of writing and action in my books and on this blog to get more readers, to get a following, and to have my prose and literature read widely.

Today I wrote about Sandy and Floyd at a house party for teenagers 19+ where they were drinking beer and dancing. Floyd feels out of place, and rightly so. He is 34 and at a party for a bunch of young kids drinking like the teenagers they are.

Sandy is dancing, and making out with her friend, Callie. They go upstairs, and fuck. This is a capstone, a furious love scene that for me dragged at my heartstrings. This book is reading more like a romance than it is an erotic book. I wonder if the ZON! is going to shove it into erotica. We’ll see.

I would call this one a romance.

So far, this third book in the Tennis Brat series is up to 11,000 words. I want to get it to 20,000 and likely will have it done by the end of the week. I’m not certain if it is going to be a successful book, but i’m hopeful that it will be.

Again, it reminds me of “Take Her.” It is my favorite book, filled with shorts of sex but telling Alison’s story as she devolves and devastates after Matthew and her break up before college. It is by far my favorite book I’ve written, and my first. I think i wrote it with heartbreak, with love, and all the rest have been stories. Unfortunately it is not a high selling book :(.

Here is an excerpt from today’s writing:

It was easy to forget about it all when she looked up at me with half-drunk eyes, sought me out and smiled brilliantly with flashing white teeth and her cheeks lifting. The music changed, she pushed Callie away in a friendly manner, and beckoned me to dance.
“Sorry boys, the lady calls.”
“… I’d be whipped too for… Sandy’s arms.”
“No shit…. Probably… horse…”
“… I bet… see. .. Way he walks… third leg.”
I shook my head smiling; I was average in almost every way. I just happened to fill her emotional needs, match her personality, and be sexy enough to draw her eye and satisfy her like she craved. There was no secret; we loved each other. It was that simple, and as I started dancing to Sandy’s mouth covering laughter I knew none of my fears mattered. All that mattered was Sandy, and I was willing to do anything for her.
I finished my beer, and let Sandy grind on my leg, humping me while undulating her abs and breasts against my chest. We made out, oblivious to the crowd and noise, and while we danced on the backdoor patio next to a pool the world fell away, fear from the coming school year disappeared, and all that remained was Sandy’s small lips kissing mine, her tongue like a promise of forever, and her tight muscular body gyrating against mine like we were fucking with clothes on.
“… damn, that’s hot…”
“… don’t you … like that… me?”
“Cause…. Don’t look…. That!”
Even the snippets of conversation didn’t register, but flowed over me, and my hands found Sandy’s ass, her beautiful, tight, narrow, but bulging from workouts ass. I groped, I grabbed, and I squeezed it over her romper, which was more like a thin film of decorum leaving nothing to imagination. I was hard throughout, and Sandy taunted me with her belly and crotch hammering against my erection through my shorts.
After what seemed like hours, sweating from our movements, refreshed intermittently with a few more drinks Sandy led me by the hand to the house. We moved upstairs through the throng. There were more people than I realized, filling the kitchen, the living room, and even the front room. Everyone was holding a red solo cup, or some sort of drink. I was at a fucking kegger with high school kids and the hot popular girl was leading me upstairs. I did my best to move fast after Sandy, and keep my head down. Maybe no one would notice how old I was; or care.
Sandy pulled me into a bedroom, turned the lights on and locked the door behind me.
“I kissed a girl for the first time in this room,” she said, “felt my first boob.” She spoke, pushing her arms through her romper, and removing it. “Called my first crush on the phone over there,” she pointed behind me, and when I looked back at her she was half naked, tits flopping from recently being revealed. “Callie won’t mind if we use her room.”
She dropped her romper past her hips, wearing only a thin spaghetti strap white thong. The fabric was so tiny it barely covered her pussy. She’d shaved bald. I licked my lips.
“Sandy, you’re fucking beautiful.”
She blushed, but seemed to brush the compliment away.
“I liked dancing with you; but I want more of your moves.” She said.
“I’m a terrible dancer, but moving with you seems so natural,” I said, taking my shirt off.
Sandy put her hand on my belly, getting close and looking at my face. She was right there as I freed my face from the shirt. She tugged at my belt, undoing it slow. I let her control my undressing. It was easy to stare at her athletic frame: her wide shoulders, big boobs jiggling with every motion, her nipples tickling my stomach, and her long thin arms laced with tone muscle.
“You’re so masculine, so sexy, I love you so much,” she said, yanking my belt off and tossing it to the floor. “Let me show you how much.”
“You already do,” I said, pulling her into a kiss. “Do you know I love you?”
She pulled out of our kiss, and dropped my pants and boxers taking a grip on my cock.
“I do,” she said smiling.
She got on her knees and after pumping a few times with a dry hand took me in her mouth.
“Oh fuck yeah,” I said watching her face gobble the full length of my dick.
I stroked her blonde hair, fine and pulled into a pony tail. Her closed eyes and eyebrows looked so sexy, sun bleached and tanned. Her lips curved pleasing over my shaft, and she worked her invisible tongue along the underside of my dick in expert motions.
She started bobbing, slobbering and with squelching and gurgling noises gave me a hard and rough blow job. I wanted to palm her head and face fuck her, but restrained myself, instead letting her lead the movements. I didn’t know if she wanted me to cum or not, but I felt pleasure building, like magma underground swirling into itself and building in pressure and heat. She seemed to sense my rising eruption and pulled off, but kept stroking with one spit drenched hand over my slick shaft.
Sandy looked at me smiling, and with her other hand wiped her face.
“I love sucking your big dick.” She said.
“You’re fucking amazing at it; I was about to cum.”
“I know, but I need you to fuck me in the ass.”
My dick spasmed, and if she’d been sucking me I would have cum, instead it made that chamber of heat and pressure build more. She knew how to turn me on past what I thought was possible. I looked down at her body, her collar bones so delicate and fine exposed and sunken against her narrow chest, then the massive flesh of her boobs impossibly perky and full.
Sandy stood, but pulled me to the bed by the cock. I waddled after her and she bent over the bed removing her thong. She pushed her tits and face against the bed, and with both hands pried her ass cheeks apart exposing her brown starfish. Her perfect pussy widened too, but I was all eyes on her butt-hole.
“Fuck me in the ass, Floyd, fuck my butt until I cum; I want it so bad. Please! Please fuck me.”
She said it like a plea, like a prayer, like a promise, like a dream, like a perfect sexy goddess designed for my personal enjoyment and pleasure. She was my soulmate, a gift from heaven, and I couldn’t stop myself; I didn’t want to.
“Oh fuck, Sandy, you’re amazing,” I said taking her hips in my hands after lodging my tip into her tight butt. I could just get my slimy tip into her tightness.
“Oh yes! Put it in! Fuck me up the ass! I want it so bad!” Sandy moaned, pulling her thick butt muscles wider.
“Okay, here I come, here I go.” I said, using my hardness and her hips to push.
Her sphincter protested like usual, fighting my cock, resisting how I needed it to widen, but our frequent anal sex let it relax soon, and eventually like a spreading flower it opened for my shaft, immediately clamping again as she squeezed against me. I forced my way in, and she moaned loud, shouting in pleasure and discomfort.
I buried my cock in her ass.
Sandy started pumping her clit with one hand, letting go of her ass letting it snap back together to hug what little of my cock I couldn’t shove into her butt.
“Oooh fuck yeah,” I moaned, shrouded and complete inside her ass.

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