K.T. Croft

Mysteries...with some steam!

Page 2 of 3

Stealth Vibe (NSFW)

This is another x-rated post that I shared on Reddit last year which always makes me chuckle/squirm with embarrassment when I think of it.

So I brought my ‘A-game’ even though I was having doubts about meeting up with ‘Chad’ again.
[The TLDR is that ‘Chad’ (aka Sir Cums Alot) was a (for me very uncharacteristic hookup), and a weird drunken one-night stand kind of thing from a party I was at a few weeks ago. And he and I are of very different types, he’s more of the ‘cool party people’ variety and me – not so much, but pool parties have a way of equalizing many things somehow].

And so, we’d texted since then and I agreed to meet for drinks last weekend with him and see what happened from there. And even though I was deeply doubting the wisdom of this beforehand I absolutely put in my maximum preparation effort anyway – I had a thorough shower and scrub, meticulously shaved all the bits, did the hair, filed my nails, polish on my toes, lip gloss/eyeliner, expensive underwear option, agonized over clothing options, etc. And, most significantly to what follows later – I had also continued to NOT masturbate as I typically do in the shower. I’d been on a fast since we’d agreed to meet up again so as to be extra hungry, which at this point had been three days and I’m typically an everyday girl that way. So I had a bit of a charge on and (I thought) looked good enough for someone to want to help me deal with it.
However…

I barely recognized him from the other night where he’d been in only swim trunks and mostly submerged. He was dressed in a way-too-tight neon green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He must have used an entire bottle of some sort of horrific smelling body spray. He was also already drunk (or on drugs of some sort), talking way too loud and smiling way too much and he had the attention span of a squirrel – his eyes couldn’t sit still, he was constantly checking his phone, or looking around at other people, or looking at my chest, back to the phone, nope another stare at my boobs, yep they’re still there, okay now back to the phone…etc.


I did try (honest) and make an effort though and we chatted as best we could which mostly went back to the party where we’d met and our time together. But it was all painful. And then by miraculous intervention, some friend of his showed up and they bro’d each other into oblivion. Apparently, some party was going down, and did I want to come and join them? No, darn it, I really ‘somehow wasn’t feeling it tonight. Did he mind if I bailed?’ Chad seemed to look relieved, I’m sure I did. So we did our own version of a bro hug and I left them to it and walked home – carefully deleting his number from my phone along the way.
Now, all that is really foreplay for my story though. I suppose also it gives some closure to the Chad incident – but mostly I said it to highlight that I was prepped and geared for action and feeling pent up with sexual tension and frustration. Which then takes us to the funner part of the evening’s saga….

I get home. For ‘reasons’ I have been staying back at my parent’s house this summer. It’s a pretty small house and when I get there my parents are in bed but not asleep. They hear me come in and I wish them a good night, change into my pj’s and then raid the fridge. Leftover apple pie- Yay!! Half a bottle of white wine – double Yay!!I put on headphones curl up with Netflix in the living room.

A few hours later and it’s midnight, the wine is gone and my hand is in my pants.I don’t know if that’s a genetic hand me down from my Dad (who always sits with one hand tucked into his waistband when watching tv) or I just do it all on my own but more often than not if I’m loafing on the couch my left-hand cups my crotch. (Please tell me other people do this too!?) Generally, I do it as a sort of comfort, self-soothing thing, and not any actual masturbatory intent. But usually, my hand just rests there over my clothes. In this instance, however, the ‘clothes’ are just a thin layer of pajamas and my fingers have been exploring over them on autopilot. I only fully realize this when the show ends and I discover I’ve been working myself into a bit of a lather. Shit. Too late to have a shower to disguise such activities as the bathroom is beside my parent’s room and would wake them for sure. I pad down the hall to my room – a bit further along and opposite and ease through the bead curtain that is the door.

No door you ask? Why no door? Awesome question! It has no door because when I was 15 I was overly fond of slamming it. I would do this so that everyone in the house could (literally) feel my displeasure at whatever in that moment had compelled me to stomp to my room in fury. The whole house would shake. It was awesome. But…after yet another such incident my Dad stomped in right behind me, whipped back open said door, and yelled something to the effect of “Young lady that will be the LAST time you slam that door or there will be NO DOOR!” To which I replied something massively stupid along the lines “Oh ya!?” and then slammed it all over again just to call his bluff (Testy little minx wasn’t I? Dumb though.)
I recall Dad just nodded to himself thoughtfully and then calmly walked off to find some tools. I can’t help but think he intended it to be a temporary punishment but I had my back up so as weeks turned into months I stubbornly refused to complain about it and eventually hung a beaded 60’s style curtain thing that I found at the thrift shop in its place. The door was left in the garage where it fell into service as a table of sorts to hold paint cans and other bric-a-brac (a task it still performs today). Which is all just to say that as there is no door to close, the acoustic barrier between my bed and my parent’s bedroom is essentially – zero.

I crawl into bed. Try to sleep. Toss and turn. After a bit, I end up on my back propped up on pillows with my legs splayed slightly apart in my default “I’m masturbating in bed” pose. Begin to do so. But absolutely just to play for a bit, not with a REAL intention. Just to get a bit of a warm glow on. (Ya right sure. Good luck with that!). And I do have a definite glow happening. That delightful tingling heat from my breasts to my hips. Gosh. I guess all that couch fumbling earlier got me more worked up than I realized – my fingers rubbing lightly over my lips find their way past and I am SUPER gooey down there.

Ah, fuck it I can be stealthy (I think?) and with the wet heat that’s happening it for sure won’t take long. A few gentle clit circles and then I push a finger back between my lips a few times to get it well and truly lubed. Ah, that’s better, super slippery on my clit now. Yep. Yep. Another little push and slide inside for more goo. Then back to my clit again. My legs draw further apart. Fingers rubbing in light circles. Shit, it’s getting loud. Squelchy wet sounds. I double the duvet over my lower half as a sound barrier. That’s better. Fingers back in action and within a few seconds they’re pressing harder and more urgent. Mmmm. Uh-huh. Fuck ya. Here we go…Sharp involuntary gasping inhale of breath (oh shit that WAS loud). Stifled groan. Little body spasms I try to tense against to minimize. Bed frame squeaks and creaks (dammit).

Sigh…okay. Waves pass. That’s better. Well…sort of better. It WAS an orgasm, no question about that. But not really one to write poems about. Too contained. Too restricted. Too much stealthy performance pressure. And not one that really did much to satisfy. But still..a tension relief of sorts. Fine. Time to try and sleep.

Five minutes pass. Nope. Wide awake and unfulfilled. Wait a second! Where is my vibrator!? Still packed in a box from when I moved back in over a month ago, of course. That’s what is needed here. A deeper and more meaningful g-spot involved kind of fireworks. And that’s what that vibrator is made for – this is not a dildo penis substitute plunging action kind of design, oh no! This is a highly contoured stay in place and vibe on the happy place kind of thing. Narrow neck with a bulbous end and just what the situation demands for a truly full-body release.

It’s almost 2 am. No way I could dig it out without making a ruckus. Or could I??
A minute later and I’m crawling on the floor trying to sneak a hand in under the lid of the bottom box in a stack. What is in here? All manner of things that are NOT vibrator shaped. Finally, I feel the cloth bag I keep it in and drag it through the other crap under the lid and out to freedom! Scraping sounds as the boxes sway against the wall but not too bad.

Yippee! I open the bag grab my prize and then drop the bag and my pj bottoms on the floor and scramble back into bed! Quietly fluff the pillows. Arrange the duvet into a folded sound barrier again and then get comfy. The bulbous end of it is a bit large so I typically need to do a little warm-up lube to get it in, but my lips are still a gooey mess from the orgasm a few minutes ago so it just takes a few slides up and down with a bit of twist to get all sides covered and…oooop…yep….in she goes. Ahhh. Okay. Fun time!

The vibrator is a pricey one but it’s amazing. It has a range of vibe intensity and a number of different patterns you can scroll through. I go with my usual favourite – sort of a pulse thing. It starts up and instantly I’m feeling that sweet vibrational wave doing its magic. Somehow really muted though not nearly as zippy as I remember it being. I crank it up a notch or two. On the plus side, it’s a pretty low hum being muffled by being 80% inside me and then with the duvet over top. Too loud? Mmmm. Nah.

I lie back for half a minute or so and just wallow in the sensation. There’s a slow build going on and I grab one boob with my left hand with a firm squeeze as I reach for my clit with my other hand. And… it stops. Shit. Must’ve turned it off somehow. Fumble for the buttons. Nothing. OMG the battery is dead. Of course, it is you fucking moron – it’s been sitting abandoned in a box for a month or more. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. God damn it!
Breathe deep.
Pull it out. Make double sure it’s not working. OH! Wait! It’s back to life…but feeble. Okay, I’ll just hold it on my clit. Oh that’s nice. Mmmmhmmm. Nope. Stopped again. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. God damn it! Sigh.

I’m close enough for sure that stopping isn’t an option. So I poke Mr. Lifeless back inside and while it feels ‘nice’ in that it gives pressure in a filled-up feeling kind of way, it isn’t nearly the same. I leave it in place and use my fingers on my clit again. Another warm tingling orgasm is soon on its way but even as it rushes closer I feel I’m missing that tantalizing g-spot action. I hunch up a bit to be able to reach down with my other hand and grab the end of the vibe. I give it a few pumps in and out (something I’ve never attempted before) just as the orgasm breaks.

The duvet has slipped down a bit and the squelching sucking sound is unbelievably loud. It sounds like I’m using a plunger on a half-full kitchen sink. I scramble to stop and stuff the duvet back over myself as I’m cumming. More bed creaks and gasping pants. The duvet flip has knocked over my glass on the bedside table that floods water everywhere. I desperately try to rescue my phone, headphones, and a book but manage to drop everything. Jesus. Splish splash crash. If my parents are awake they must think I’m herding otters or something.

Minutes go by and the house stays quiet though. I save my phone and leave the rest.
Toss/turn. Try to sleep. Still annoyingly unsatisfied.

Finally, it occurs that if I could find the vibe then the charger must be somewhere in that box too. It wasn’t in the bag with it (where it usually lives). Did it fall out when I was pulling it from the box? Listen hard – all is quiet. I ease out of bed and I’m crawling again. One hand lifting the boxes above, the other slipping into the bottom one. I find all manner of desk items (stapler – why do I even own a stapler?). And then, at last, a wire! I’m reeling it in to see if there is a charger connected when there’s a sound from somewhere out in the hall and I freeze. I’m very aware that I am on my hands and knees, naked from the waist down with my ass is pointed straight at the door. At least it’s dark. There’s a creak of a bed, just someone rolling over I think (hope). A minute passes and no other sounds so I keep digging and triumphantly extract the charger. Yippee!

Back to bed (again). Locate vibe. Plug-in charger to wall, plug-in plug to vibe. Fluff pillows, arrange duvet. Does it need a while to charge up to be useable or can I use it wired up right away? I turn it on. BZZZZZZZZZZ. Holy shit that is loud! Off! Deep breaths, listen hard…all good.

Relube and reinsert vibe THEN turn it on. Muted rumble now, much better. And OH YA, so much better. Still louder than before though. I cram the duvet around my hips on all sides to make as soundproof a barrier as possible. Good enough. I lie back.

All that hard work finally pays off. I have to jam a corner of a pillow into my mouth a minute or two later to muffle myself. Between the pulsing waves inside me and the hot slippery fingers outside it’s a full bore full body-rocking orgasm. Finally!

It’s now almost 3 am and I leave the vibe in place on its lowest rumble just to keep a happy glow fired up and close my eyes…just for a minute or two.

I wake up when I hear my Dad at 6 am getting up to go play golf. I’m kind of dopey and sprawled and sort of…WTF is that sound? OMG. Panic! Sit up and scramble to locate the vibrator still gamely buzzing away under the duvet somewhere. It’s unplugged and not inside me but still with enough renewed charge to buzz. I find it, at last, turn it off, and jam it under my pillow just as my Dad walks past the door. He sees me moving and pauses but then continues on without a word.

All totally fine I think and fall back to sleep but then later when I finally wake up I see my room looking more or less normal aside from my pajama bottoms in a heap just inside the doorway lying beside a vibrator-sized cloth bag in full view. Hmmmm.

Wattpad Meets Bandcamp

For those who don’t know, Wattpad is a website where aspiring authors can freely share their stories with the rest of the world. It’s been around since 2006 and claims to have a staggering 90 million users. Like…damn!! That’s a lot.

So I tried it. I became 90millionth and 1 user (give or take) last fall. And I had a super fun time for about a week or two. Which was as long as it took me to figure out what the site actually is…and what it isn’t…and also, what it should be. (Which is the point of this post).

What it is….
It’s a social media site. Really. That’s the crux of it. And it’s one that skews to a young demographic who lean toward highschool romances, things with werewolves and vampires, and all manner of ‘fan-fic’ type things. But it’s also a place where authors and readers (typically all one and the same from what I can tell) can interact…though it’s mostly chatting that has little or nothing to do with writing as a craft.

(Shortly after I joined their servers got hacked and the wheels were wobbly for a while. In fixing the holes they decided to scrap a companion site they had running which was a forum environment, so most of the interaction is gone – at least for the time being).

What it isn’t…
It is definitely not a place for anyone hoping to create something of quality to the extent that anyone would actually pay to read it. At least not for 99.8% of it. They do have a pay to read program (which mostly has higher quality stuff) but it’s a very cliquish invite-only framework and it’s very difficult to break into from all the complaints that I read.

What it should be…
Okay, this is not my original idea! In fact, I’d never even heard of bandcamp.com until another author on Reddit made the point I’m making now. Which is, that, bandcamp.com is a website for musicians that allows artists to; create accounts, upload their music, set their own prices, and create a web presence to promote their work. If you go there and see what they’ve done it’s like well…no shit! It is exactly what somebody needs to do for authors.

Anyway! I’ve been echoing those thoughts in all the writing subs on Reddit for a while now but I thought I’d share it here in case someone gives Bill Gates or Elon or somebody like that a copy of my book for valentines day. Which of course might lead them here to check out this blog and leave them thinking: Hmmm…I’ve got a few bucks lying under the sofa cushions….I should start up a website like that…hmmm….

(fingers crossed)

-K

Sordid Searches

One thing with this novel writing gig — it does generate a wildly convoluted and varied browser history. My god, the things I’ve looked up! And bookmarked, and occasionally downloaded. All for reference and research of course. But some of it wanders into some…well..interesting areas to say the least. Not all of it I’d be super comfortable with needing to explain to…well…anyone!

Though, on the plus side, I guess I can also take the view that I can justify pretty much anything now as being ‘research-related’ and not at all of the actual personal interest. No, no, no! Honest! ;P

Still…it’s probably best that — links to articles concerning the buoyancy properties of breast implants, or images of the current hot sellers in the strap-on-dildo line, or instructional videos of how best to ‘exquisitely ruin’ your guy’s orgasm — should all remain secretly hidden away.

To that end…I’ve been taking some time this morning to do a bit of browser clean up. The only hurdle so far is that I had to watch a few things to make 100% sure I no longer needed reference to them…which led to a bit of a prolonged side trip to have a relaxing shower.

Rinse. Repeat.

-K

Dryad (NSFW)


I really like having sex outdoors. Out in nature.

It hasn’t happened often but when it does it’s the best. I guess if you want to say that I have any sexual ‘kinks’ at all then maybe that’s it. But, it’s important to know that while the ‘being outside’ thing is a kick, there is absolutely not an exhibitionist trait in this. Being watched by a third party is, to me, super creepy and would have zero enjoyment. At least that’s true if the watcher is another human. Forest wildlife watching me naked on the other hand…that’s pretty cool. Like I’m one of them somehow. Another animal in the wild. Which I suppose we are really, (or maybe just used to be?). And while I’ve only had a small number of outdoor sexual trysts I definitely enjoyed all of them.

But there are a few others that were a bit more authentic I suppose you could say – back yard, friends cottage on the dock, that sort of thing. Most though have been solo things. Stolen moments here and there on day hikes or camping trips. Typically staying fully clothed and just one hand down my pants in some isolated spot – over and done within a matter of a few minutes. With one very notable exception.
There is a place in Vancouver Island called Cathedral Grove.

It’s an island on an island…in a sense. A part of the original old-growth forest that got preserved when the logging companies went crazy all around it. (There are loads of other untouched places around but this is one of the only ones that you can drive right up to). It looks like this:

And it’s absolutely a Fern Gully, Avatar, Jurassic World kind of a place. Quite special.
I’d visited a few times on family trips before, and – like most visitors I imagine – we had just hiked a few of the short looping trails that lead away from the roadside parking place. Sort of 30 minutes in and around and back out kind of thing. There isn’t anything else nearby so it’s sort of a stop on your way to somewhere else kind of a place.

But two years ago (almost to the day!) I was there on my own when I’d been visiting nearby with friends. They had all gone off to go caving (which I didn’t want to do) and instead I suggested they leave me at Cathedral Grove for the whole day. As I said, it isn’t a place that people generally go to for very long but I had a blanket, a book to read, and lunch and water, and no other plan at all, so I was very happy.
They dropped me off early, maybe 9 am or so, as they had a full day planned for themselves. At that hour the parking area beside the road was all but empty so even though it was shaping up to be a corker of a day, I had the trails essentially to myself.

I followed the trails around for a bit and ended up near a river that comes past. And set up with my blanket and my book. A few hrs pass happily enough and the visitor traffic has begun to spike noticeably. There is a pretty constant flow of people passing my little spot and it’s sort of dragging me out of the zen calm with nature thing I begin to realize had been going on for me. I pack up and follow the trails away from the river and deeper into the forest. Not long later I reach a point where the trail starts to turn back and I figure I’m probably as far from the parking lot as I can get.

Technically you’re not supposed to leave the trail but there is really nowhere along where I am where you can sit either. Aside from just right on the trail. It’s noonish now and I’m hungry and the sun is high. Shafts of light pour in here and there but it’s mostly filtered. There is a spot off the trail though, maybe 50 meters away that looks like a bit of an opening, it’s a bright swath of forest that looks like a little glade. I wait for some German tourists chatting away to themselves to pass by. When they’re out of sight I take a last look around and then do my best to sneak off the trail and into the forest. It’s rough going! I’m slipping and sliding on moss and roots and god knows what. But after maybe 10 minutes of sweaty work, I make it to the ‘glade’ I saw. It isn’t. It’s sunlight and beautiful, but it’s a moss-covered tangle of fallen trees with nowhere obvious at all to spread a blanket. Shit.

I climb up onto one of the trees. Even though I’m at what was the pointy end of the tree this is still easier said than done as it’s huge!). But I just wanted to sort of get a look around since I’d come this far. Before heading back to the trail I think. Once on the tree though it’s actually easy to walk along it like a bridge than it was walking on the forest floor. And the other end is the base end so it just gets thicker as I go. I walk along. Super cool.I reach the base end and there’s a stumpy crown of root ends sticking all around. All just covered in hanging moss. I could probably climb down but I’m like 10 feet in the air or something and there’s no real point. The best thing is just to go back the way I came and return to the trail and then find somewhere else. I know there are trails on the other side of the road and I’ve never been on those. Maybe that’s worth a go.

Before I do, for some reason I take a little look past the roots, just to see what lies deeper in the forest. And wow! THERE is my glade. Where the tree used to stand. The roots had pulled up when the tree fell however many years ago and the ground has yet to be filled in with a new tree. It’s just a very thick low forest of gigantic ferns among the gigantic trees. There are little streams of sunlight bearing down. I’m not a great climber by any stretch but I manage to climb down using the thick root stumps as a ladder.

It’s awesome. I spread my blanket out (trying not to crush too many ferns in the process) and lie down. The ferns close in around me and I’m looking up past them to the blue sky and the gentle swaying of huge trees all every side. So cool.
I take my shoes and socks off. Lunchtime. I eat. I drink from my water bottle. I lounge. I read some more.
Then I have to pee.

I’m sure I could probably manage somewhere close to the blanket but that doesn’t seem right. The footing is a bit tricky, but the moss is so nice under my bare feet I decide to leave my shoes off. I take a step or two and realize that keeping my balance and wrestling with dropping my pants is going to make the whole peeing thing a bit dicey. I return to the blanket and take off my pants and after further consideration my panties as well to make things easier. I put my fleece back on though, it hangs low gives me the slight feeling of protection as though I was wearing a micro mini skirt or something. But really it’s an illusion. I’m bare assed no question!

I navigate off the blanket and end up going a fair distance, maybe 5 meters further than needed but I find a little route through the ferns to near the base of another massive tree and do my business. I linger a bit there afterward. There’s a spot where the sun is shining hot and I stand in it. The moss under my toes and feeling the slight breeze over the skin of my lower half. Hmmm. In the far distance, there is the very, very faint sound of heavy trucks on the road but that’s it. No voices from the trail. And even if there were it’s completely hidden from view from where I am. I listen hard just in case but only hear the hum of insects, the occasional song of a bird. Impulsively I pull off my shirt and fleece together and hold them in one hand, and stand fully naked in the sun.

I think I intended to just do it for a moment. Just to feel the sun all over my body out here in the deep woods. Natural all around, a very primal feeling somehow. But I stand there basking for many long minutes. When I finally decide to make my way back to the blanket my fleece and shirt stay in my hand. I take my time getting back, stepping carefully and lingering, and again it feels very primal somehow. So when I reach the blanket I stay naked and it just feels right. I make a pillow out of my fleece and lay down on my back once again hidden by the ferns. The sun has moved a bit more across the sky and now the blanket is almost fully sunlit. I close my eyes.
Mmmmm. Feels nice.

There’s a thing I do before I masturbate in bed. It’s sort of part of the ignition sequence. I hold my hands over my stomach and my fingertips lightly drag over my skin up and down my body. Sometimes they move together sometimes they go in opposite cycles – I leave it up to them. They do this 90% on autopilot, I’m barely aware of it consciously. The movements tend to start confined to my abdomen but gradually lengthen until they are making contact with breasts and thighs and then nipples and vulva

So I’m lying back in the forest. Completely naked. Hearing the murmur of the wind in the tree branches high overhead, the pulse and hum of insects all around me, the soft rustle of ferns when a stray gust reaches the ground, and…the very faint drag as fingertips draw lines over bare skin. Huh! I lift up my head for a moment and glance around as best I can but there is really nothing to see except for the 50 shades of green of the forest and the sapphire blue of the sky above. My knees draw apart on their own accord. I close my eyes and lie back. As my thighs part wider I can feel the unusual warmth of the sun’s rays on my pussy. And then, even more, when my inner lips are spread open as my fingers begin to rub and slide and tease

In general, I typically don’t hold back during sex or masturbating. I usually rush to the orgasm finish line with all due haste and then if time allows race again…and again. But that somehow seems…disrespectful to the moment. And so I do the opposite. I linger.
I also typically focus my attention straight on my clit. Using my girl goo or saliva or both to lubricate my fingertips. But I find instead that I’m cupping my whole pussy in my right hand. Applying pressure to all of my parts with my entire palm and fingers. I still slide a finger or two between my inner lips from time to time and then drag them hot and slippery up over my clit for some gentle attention there, but there’s no urgency to it.

I have no idea how long this goes on. It’s a super languid pace. At one point I do hear some voices passing on the trail but they’re very far away. My left hand has been still doing the occasional fingertip body drag over my stomach and boobs. And bit by bit the same hand movement over and over on my pussy and I slowly become aware that my body has been lifting up by that orgasm wave.

Typically the peak of that wave is a pretty sharp and pointy affair – a steep climb up, a spin around the crest, and then a drop down the other side. But this is more of a rounded ocean swell than a breaking wave. And when I start to cum I almost don’t realize it. The gradual difference between the feelings of pleasure is not the usual sharp release I’m used to. But it also goes on..and on…and on…and then fades back down to the same full-body glow I felt just before. But it’s not a repeat sort of thing. I keep my right hand pressed warm and wet against me for another minute or two. There is an initial coolness when I finally pull it away and drop it down to the blanket by my side. But the heat of the sun is still on me. A little while later I fall asleep.

When I do wake I’m chilly. The sun has angled off and even though there are still rays cutting through around me the ferns have me almost all in shadow. Still, I procrastinate getting dressed as long as possible and when I finally do I have a tinge of sadness like I’m leaving something special behind when I do.
🙂

-K

Home Stretch!

When I typed that title just now I was really thinking about how I had finished another chapter this morning and was now in the final stages of completing my novel. But then I realized that I was also doing some yoga just a few minutes ago and so…technically…that was also ‘stretching at home’.

The yoga, was of the naked-in-the-sauna variety. The chapter completion was not. I suppose one could write naked, and actually I guess I have on more than a few occassions in the comfort of my bed. But I doubt they make a sauna-proof laptop. Or do they? Probably NASA has something up to the task. That would actually be pretty stylish now that I think of it! Relax in the sauna…smell of cedar…the click and pop of the electric heater…ice cold water bottle…and then be able to type away!

I suppose the keyboard would need to be sweat proof. You’d probably want to be able to just hose the whole thing down after.

Sorry…way off topic!

Okay. Yes. Another chapter is done! And things are defnitely very exciting in the story just now. Action. Danger. Nudity. All the fun things!

So now here I go, no longer in the sauna, but onto the next chapter!

Wish me luck!

-K

Animal Stories

So my fiancé talks to pets.

Not in the typical “Who’s a good dog!?!?! You’re a good dog!! Yes you are…yes you are…!!” sort of thing. Or in the Kristoff and Sven the reindeer cute sort of interaction where he does the animal voice to hold the conversation together. Oh no. And not even (as far as I know) in the more magical Dr. Doolittle actual talking to them sort of deal.

His chats are entirely one-sided. Always (at least the ones I’ve overheard) follow current events of a political nature, or are weather-related, or maybe just more in the moment issues like ‘why isn’t the coffee grinder working’ sort of things. Generally, he concludes by looking at whichever animal happened to be listening as if waiting for a reply…and when one isn’t given, he says something like; “Well…okay. Think about it. Let me know.”

He does this when he’s alone or thinks he is. And I find it beyond endearing, though his sister thinks otherwise. Partially because one of the spin-offs of this approach is that whenever pets have been adopted (and it’s a rotating door on that aspect) and the need to name said pet is there then if he has his way the animal is always given a ‘regular’ name. Like David. Or Susan. Or Kevin. (The rest of the household calls Dave the cat ‘Dave’. My fiancé insists on ‘David’). When other family members are involved the pet names tend towards the ‘Sparky’, ‘Mittens’, ‘Zuzu’ end of the spectrum.

I have yet to get my chance for a pet naming…but I’m thinking hard! 🙂

-K

Coffee & Dave

So one of my favouritist things this past year has been getting up early to write my novel. Typically this involves sneaking out of bed, down the hall, and over to the far end of the living room. There is a gas fireplace, a comfy couch (actually more than one, but there’s one that is my preferred nesting spot), a place to plug in my laptop, a view out to the backyard (even though it’s typically pitch black at this time of year), and…Dave.

Dave has been my writing companion more mornings than not. He is also an early riser and is usually awake before I am. Typically he greets my arrival to that corner of the house by rolling onto his back and lying belly up. In that respect, he is not much different from my fiancé. But Dave is a cat. I generally give him (Dave) a gentle belly rub in response even though I’m not really so much a ‘cat person’, and so he tolerates me.

As a result Dave tends to respect my quiet time, and doesn’t try to sit on the keyboard or do anything much beyond give that squinty eyed look some cats do when they’re fighting off sleep…or maybe plotting world domination.

At least that is true until the coffee arrives.

The coffee doesn’t show up until 6am or so when my younger future sister-in-law awakes. Somehow the ritual just happened organically. She claims to enjoy the zen ritual of coffee preparation. It’s part of her own waking up routine and she’ll often make me a coffee without making one for herself.

When she brings it over to where I’m parked amongst the pillows and blankets I’ll get a ‘good morning’ hug from her and then Dave moves into his phase 2 plan. Whether it’s jealousy of the hug, or he likes the smell of coffee on my breath, or maybe he just figures I’ve written enough by that point…but for whatever reason it becomes ‘Dave Time’.

He’ll pounce onto the couch with all the agility a somewhat overweight cat can muster, and then squirm his way onto my lap. Purring follows. Writing stops.

And here we are now…

-K

Firebox (NSFW)

After much internal debate…I’ve decided to post a few of the stories that I once shared on reddit so that anybody new will have a chance to get a sense of what my writing is like.

The following sordid tale transpired last summer (2020) and was part of a very memorable week for me. Many exciting events happened but the most significant was my relationship status elevation from ‘girlfriend’ to ‘fiancée’. (The actual proposal episode is maybe worth sharing at some point as well. Not so much sexy as terrifying!).

Anyway! Without further adieu here is that story…


So last week was a particularly memorable and very, very special one for me! A number of things happened and while I won’t get into all of it, there is one sexy part that I’ll share.

To set the scene, there are a few things to mention…

One is the actual space me and my guy were in – a very small but very charming cottage near the beach owned by family friends. It’s a true cottage in that it lacks many modern amenities – including heat. The only source, other than plug-in electric heaters, is a wood burning fireplace in the main living/dining area. So we dragged a mattress from one of the bedrooms and set up our little love nest on the floor in front of the fireplace.

The second point to mention is that during the weeks and weeks and weeks of build up during our forced separation, there was lots of sexy conversations with some very explicit suggestions as to what might happen between us when we were finally back together. One such item was a certain promise/threat(?) he had made about going down on me ‘for an hour’.

The last thing relates to oral sex in general. Now my guy is a couple of years older than me but has had around the same pretty small number of past relationships (compared to most other friends I know anyway). In his case, none of his previous partners were much into oral sex…at all. Giving or receiving. Now I appreciate how receiving can be intimidating – I have had my own issues that way being caught up in paranoia about how I taste/smell and it can ruin the mood entirely. So I get it. And while giving doesn’t have to end with his goo in my mouth I also know some women are pretty squeamish about cum – so I get that too. However, I actually have never really minded the taste/texture so much, and when it’s from a partner I have deep feelings for (as now) then I fall to the other side where I very much enjoy it. And as for receiving…so long as I feel fresh and clean then I’m all in! Okay, so, all that to say he is very much enjoying my enthusiasm for both and he has a wonderful fascination for playing with my pussy in a way that he has never been able to before. Something I hope he never loses interest in doing! Haha.

Okay, so cut to the end of last week. Much had happened in the preceding days, and there had been a fairly ridiculous amount of sex. We were on our second to last night. It was after dinner and the sun was setting and we were lying on the mattress when he began to meander the kisses he was giving me away from my mouth. After trailing down my throat, and side trips to visit both my breasts, his lips continued on down over my stomach. He paused then to refill champagne glasses while I took advantage of the moment to start a new playlist.

When he resumed, he parted my legs with his hands, drawing my knees up on either side of me so that my hips tilted back. He gave all of me an extended look with a particularly long and lingering examination of my spread and exposed pussy. Then with a tongue still chilled from the champagne he gave me a long lick. Mmmmmmm.

He fell into a rhythm of sorts. Four minute loops give or take. He would spend the first minute just looking at my pussy from his close range view, not touching, just enjoying the visuals in a way that I never would have been comfortable with previously with anyone else doing. And then the next minute would pass where he would lightly touch me, typically just with his tongue. He would give a feather weight lick to one side or the other, or over my mound, or gently part my small folds. Then the next minute the licks would get more focused and begin involving a few visits to my clit. And last of all, spurred on my whispered encouragement, and often directed by my hands that would find their way to clasp his head, he would bring me with a final flourish to a writhing, gasping, panting, groaning, sometimes giggling, orgasm.

I didn’t appreciate initially that he was intending to give me his promised hour of attention, but then I’m not sure he was either. But he was in no hurry to stop. And I was certainly not going to discourage him from continuing! So after giving me that minute or so pause to regroup after each time I came, while he would sip champagne and continue to visually examine my increasingly wetter and very throbbing pussy…he would begin again.

That playlist is just over 100 minutes long. It was when the music had stopped and he had brought me to the very last (of that sessions) orgasms that my pussy caught fire. Almost literally.

He had on occasion brought in his fingers to join his mouth. Sometimes just on the outside, sometimes inside me. This time he had slid (two?) fingers inside me to give my g-spot that come-along-with-me gesture. That, combined with his tongue swirling over my clit (not to mention all the previous somewhat anticipatory previous orgasms) made for the most full-body, complete loss of muscle control orgasms of the night. I went through a huge number of aftershocks even after he’d withdrawn his fingers and mouth. My legs clamped together and I’d desperately grabbed his wrists to keep him from touching me as any stimulation was too much right then.

But then after a half minute or so I calmed down and I brought my knees up again as I craned my neck a bit to get my own visual to see if my lips and clit were as crazily engorged as they felt. Which was when I was treated to a mental picture I won’t soon forget.

Over the last hour and half or more the sun had fully set. It was now totally pitch dark aside from the light of the fire. Everywhere between my legs was soaked (just literally dripping wet) with a combination of his saliva and my own goo. The flames from the fire beyond reflected off of the gooey sheen. It was amazing! It totally made it seem like my pussy was on fire.

I had to share the memory which somehow involved spilled champagne and him accidentally kneeling on my hair before we figured out he needed to lie with his head on my chest to get the same angle. Somehow we went from the very peak of intense passion to giggling like idiots in the space of a minute. Mmmmmmm.

Cover Design

Christ on a bike! (Or whatever).

Designing a book cover is WAY more difficult than I would’ve guessed. I mean, I know I shouldn’t be super surprised by that, but it’s like every little tiny thing has impact. Anyway, I’ve learned more about fonts and such than I ever knew existed and I have no doubt that all my new knowledge is barely scraping the surface.

Still, all that to say that I’m pretty much done with a cover! I just need to throw together the back blurb and a few other splashes and then that will be done! Yay! I am still pondering the title…or sub-title I suppose it is…but we’ll see.

Anyway at the moment here is what I’ll be going with:

A huge (HUGE!) thank you to Michelle for all her help on it. And really just for putting up with me in general. I can’t count how many times I said “It’s perfect! Don’t change another thing!” and then a few hours later I’ve had her tweak this and that until the whole thing looks completely different all over again! Haha. Sigh.

Oh well, I will find a way to make it up to her. Maybe.

-K

2020

So gosh! Here we are. The year 2020 limping to an end…and what can we say about it? Some good things here and there, but most of them almost completely hidden by the thick layer of shittiness that was covid-19 and all that went with it.

Still, I’m choosing to focus on the positive! Which for me, among other things along the way, means that I started and (almost) finished my first novel. Just a few days left of the year and I won’t quite get it finished, but it’s quite close to being done! So…yay for that! 🙂

What else…

Well, I guess the other noteworthy item is that this website now exists. Still finding my feet in terms of how it actually works but I’m getting there. I need to work out exactly how I’m going to walk the line between the fun sharing of personal anecdotes and overstepping into the private aspects of those around me who don’t necessarily wish to stand in the spotlight (so to speak).

Meanwhile, back to the novel! So I have spent (wasted?) more time working on cover ideas and gosh golly and holy fuck is it harder than one would think. I’ve been all over the ‘steamy erotica’ lists from Amazon and such to look at what others in my genre are doing and it’s been wildly unhelpful. Why is that? Well, partially it’s because that my precise genre seems to not exist…or at least it’s very hard to find any other book that hits the same mix of; steamy/funny/mystery. Maybe that’s a good thing?? Maybe that’s because nobody actually wants to read such a cocktail? Time will tell! For now, I’m closing in on a version of an earlier cover design which I’ll post up here soon and hope for some feedback. 🙂

Okay…speaking of cocktails! It’s almost 3pm which means that it’s socially acceptable here to start cozying up to a rum and eggnog…and so I shall.

-K

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2022 K.T. Croft

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑