Valentine’s

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day, all! Sorry I was unable to share it with you yesterday, I was a little...occupied, if you catch my drift. Here’s your present!

“After-School Crush”/“Once Upon A Time Warp”

Hope you enjoy it! Love, Smoke

The Lesbian (“Lebbi”) in Me

Here’s something I wrote on in my other blog and also submitted to Lit as a personal essay. So I’ll re-blog it here and also provide the link to the essay on the site. They’re pretty much identical, I’ll just make it easy for Readers to have both resources available.

However, this is an autobiography, but this version in the blog is directly copied from my other blog, and doesn’t have anything to do with my Lit stories. The link version on the Lit site has a little to do with them, but not a whole lot. So if you’re more interested in my stories, you may wish to skip this one. It’s more of an M.R.A. rant than an erotic literature dissertation.

Why’s this in the Lit blog then? Well, to give you some insight into myself and how it may dictate some of my writing, and also to illustrate why I have devoted so much of it and so many stories to lovable lesbians and their relationships.

So here’s the link—
“The Lebbi In Me”
...And here’s the text.

This is a collection of thoughts and feelings of mine all kind of relating back to one of two large, expansive veins. And those veins would be gynephilia, and gender identity. So even though I’m a man, this is mostly about loving women, and wishing I was one.

Gynephilia, in case anyone’s unaware, is the state of being romantically/sexually interested in and attracted to women. As opposed to androphilia, which is the, eh...supposed converse interest in men. (That covers love—using the same word roots, if you’re misogynistic, you hate women, if you’re misandric, you hate men—but this article isn’t going to be too much about hate.) And so gynephiles, as logical reason and deduction indicate, are straight men and gay women—of which I happen to be the former. But—and this is where things begin to get a little bemusing—I’ve always kind of wished I was the latter.

I didn’t think such a concept as a “male lesbian” existed, until I looked it up one day, to find, to my astonishment, that apparently, yes, other gentlemen such as myself in fact do exist, and there’re articles devoted to this division of us online for guidance. Seriously, I’m not kidding; look it up! The first thing you’ll probably see is the first one I read, which almost perfectly describes me—really, just to a tee. About 80-90% of it is absolutely true in regards to my persona/identity. And so while I speak for myself and my own experiences, let me take you through this article first just to brief you.

“Male lesbians” (I’m putting it in quotation marks ’cause it’s still a relatively unknown phenom) are straight men who basically wish they’d been born women (check—that’s me), but still can’t imagine not being attracted to women sexually (also check). After covering this, the article states that they (the male lesbians) have no desire to have a sex change (check—a bit more on that later). However, they...

...*big breath*...

...“Deeply envied the prerogatives of the female gender and truly believed that these prerogatives fitted their own inborn temperaments far more harmoniously than the pattern of behavioural expectations to which males are required to adhere.” Check x1,000.

Here’s the next chunk also in quote form: “The male lesbian...wishes that he had been born a woman. But he always makes it clear that if he indeed had been born a woman he would be a full-fledged lesbian. In other words, he would want to socialize exclusively with women and he would choose female partners exclusively for love-making and for sex-making activity. In short, a secret fantasy of many male lesbians is to be a beautiful woman who lives with and makes love with another beautiful woman. The male lesbian reluctantly accepts the fact that he is male. Male lesbians don’t have any transvestite tendencies or any urge to dress up as a woman or to put on lipstick or nail polish, etc.” Also all right on the money.

It’s mind-blowing to me; I simply cannot describe how dead-on accurate most of this is, at least in my case. Paraphrasing now: most of us never cared for our own gender so much—true—envied girls’ play groups and activities growing up—sort of true—girls’ groups and activities being more their natural terrain—sort of true too. And back to quoting verbatim:

“From a very early age in life onward, the male lesbians feel somehow ‘different’ from their male peers.” Check... “And so the male lesbian (1) does not want to play with males, (2) does not want to make love to or experience sex with males, (3) does not have male recreational interests, and (4) does not even want to procreate male children.” Well, my wife and I don’t wish to procreate any children, but check regardless. Following this paragraph is a list of characteristics typical of male lesbians, and just copying it down here’s liable to make me look exceedingly lazy, but nevertheless, still hits the proverbial nail right square on the proverbial head. Many male lesbians:

• Often feel women are more privileged than men (unbelievably true)

• Are in below-average physical shape as a group (eh...kinda true, I guess)

• Tend to be less interested in sports (true)

• Tend to be more interested in movies and music... (true)

• Place great, often disproportionate importance on physical beauty, especially facial beauty (true—how’d they know that?)

• Are not as likely to be interested in male friendships (true)

• Are less patriotic (don’t see how that directly relates, but true)

• Are less religious (ditto, true)...

...Hmmm...okay, and then there are a few that’re less applicable; I’ll just give you the rest that happen to be true of me.

• Develop interest in females at an earlier age than usual, particularly in the third to fifth grade range

• Are sometimes passive-aggressive

• Are melancholic (clinical depression, speaking for myself)

• Have low energy levels

• Were usually quiet as infants

• Often have (had) tense, nervous, angry and/or two-faced mothers...

• Often have no sisters

• Often are very serious

• Often go through an excessive amount of psychological trauma of which love/shyness can be aftermath

• Grew up in isolation

• Like girls, but are afraid to talk to them because they’re afraid of rejection (well, I’m married, but if I weren’t, yes, this’d also be true)

So, there I am in a nutshell. I guess saying I wish I’d been born a girl and essentially hate being a man is as good a place to start as any. I wish Kate Bush had been able to close that deal of hers with God she was trying to make in 1985, to change us around so that women could know what it’s like to be men and men could know what it’s like to be women.

I can’t help believing a number of life aspects would be easier were I born a girl. It’s the feeling I get, at any rate. These are at least things I think would be easier. You can throw a “probably” in the middle of each of these. Just for example:

It wouldn’t be so okay or funny to strike me or mock me, someone might stand up to defend me if I were, I might actually be told I’m attractive once in a while, my body could be softer and curvier, I wouldn’t always feel portrayed like a villain, no one’d be physically scared or threatened by me—for no reason other than I’m about six feet tall—I’d be able to make friends more easily, get dates more easily (hypothetically; like I said, I’m married), my problems would be taken seriously, no one would refuse to believe me or laugh at me had I confessed to being violated in some way...I wouldn’t have to worry about being falsely (or genuinely) accused of any instance of assault or harassment, I wouldn’t feel always stereotyped as an unfavorable person even though I haven’t personally done anything wrong, I’m pretty certain I’d care more for things about myself like...oh, my voice, my appearance...I’d be better at just plain talking to people, I’m sure, undoubtedly with much more experience, I wouldn’t have to be so gosh-darn shy...you get the idea.

The physical appeal is much more significant to me than should be. Guys tell women how beautiful they are all the time, and other women also tell women how beautiful they are all the...well, some of the time. But men? Not so much. If a woman does think a man is attractive, is there something preventing her from just telling him so? Even a little something as small and insignificant as a simple “you look nice today”?

Of course—warning: titty talk—it helps that girls have the glory of the boobies. Who doesn’t love breasts? Some think the penis isn’t that attractive and some think the vagina isn’t that attractive, but seriously, who doesn’t love breasts?! I know, if they’re too big they hurt your back, and they get in the way, and other women resent you for having them, and it’s hard enough already for a well-endowed woman to find a good over-her-shoulder boulder-holder, but especially if she’s older and outside it’s colder and the salesperson’s told her and also cajoled her and then had to scold her that once it they had sold her, she’d have to fold her boulders up to fit in the holder.

As for male beauty, much as I’d like to, I can’t comment on that. I’m glad to say that I know there are true androphiles out there, women and gay men who genuinely really love men—lots of them, all kinds of them—some even enough to enjoy gay male erotica or porn. I find that pretty cool, not that I could ever go anywhere near it. Clearly, I’m not male-homophobic, my wife and I have a couple gay guy friends who are married to each other, and they’re great dudes, I can simply do without watching, writing or reading about two (or more) men having sex. There’s nothing wrong with that. So I haven’t and won’t in the future be watching anything like...oh, say, Brokeback Mountain.

But back to the lesbis—by the by, did you notice there’s apparently no female version of Brokeback Mountain? Is there anything like that film, any girl equivalent of it? Any big cinematic lesbian romance masterpiece? Would it be successful at all? We have lesbian movies and TV shows here and there, of course, but they’re not exactly super smash hit A-list material like ol’ B.M. there, are they? Does the American public or entertainment industry have some kind of problem with decent amounts of attention and equal time devoted to lebbis? Seriously, just flip on the tube, you can find multiple gay guys virtually anywhere you look. Queer Eye. Will & Grace. Glee. But...

Well, okay. For five years in the noughties (that’d be the decade between the 1990s and 2010s), we did have a little lesbian party going on on Showtime. But other than that, if you want to see them regularly, I think you have to go to LoGo—excluding Mrs. DeGeneres. She came out on her show in the ‘90s and kerplunk—cancellation city. She tried again in 2001 and that didn’t fly either. Yet put a couple gay dudes on TV and their show can run on any network for a decade.

Furthermore, lesbians have a very small community. There are (or seem to be) fewer of them than anyone or any other group of people on Earth. I have however managed to hunt around and track down a good, healthy heap of lesberotica and other lebbi material that is available, so there’s enough of it to keep me occupied. I just wish they could be more represented in a bright light the way the gay guys and heteros are. I was however pleased to find there’re a lot of books of both lesbian fiction and nonfiction. (I like reading those because it provides good research and ideas for my Literotica stories, and it’s also fun!)

So why am I so obsessed with lebbis (I am, trust me, “obsessed” is the right word)? Well, aside from all that stuff near the beginning of this writing about being a “male lesbian” (still in quotation marks), here’s the other big reason. I’m very sensitive about my gynephilia. And I don’t really have anybody with whom to bond over it. There are other dudes, but, well, for my take on the majority of them, I refer you back to the article I was quoting. I have my Dad and my brother, and...that’s about it. There’s not exactly a line winding around the block to be pals with me. I don’t have any really close friends, never had the knack for making (and keeping) them, and my only semi-close friends are all hetero women. Oh, and those couple gay men I brought up earlier. And they can’t relate to me on this. They’re alleged androphiles.

The reason I say “alleged” is, you can have folks claiming to be attracted to men, yet they don’t really back up this claim so convincingly, do they? Have you ever listened to the way women, often in groups, talk about men in general? YIKES! Good frickin’ Lord, you’d think we all just slithered out of the sewer or something. Well, we hetero ones, anyway. I can’t tell you how infuriated that makes me. I have no issues with gay guys, but I do have an issue with being negatively compared to them. I get just a little irritated when women say things like—I have on more than one occasion heard these things said, perhaps you have too—“Oh, gay guys are the best—they make the best friends, they’re the most sensitive, and they don’t want anything from you.”

Well, you have the right to choose your own best friends, but “most sensitive”? All guys are different. I’m straight, and happen to be very sensitive, if you couldn’t tell already. And “don’t want anything from you”? This description would appear to indicate that gay guys are somehow “better” than straight guys, or that a straight guy cannot be friends with a woman without wanting her to grant him sexual favors. He doesn’t want anything from you, but any and all straight guys automatically would? He “doesn’t want anything” from you? He may not want a roll in the hay, but I bet if you offer him your friendship, he’ll take that.

Most of my friends, like I said, are in fact women, and believe it or not, sorry to shatter your illusions, but I actually can and do keep my libido in check in their company. I’ve been in a committed relationship for a long time now, and—call me crazy—I happen to believe in fidelity. Now, I get that a chick might want to just be able to go to the mall or the store and not be hit on by a guy. Fine. If a woman really gets hit on this often, then she’s got a right to be a little relaxed around a guy she knows is gay. But unless she’s being approached and teed up on by literally every last man who notices her existence, without a single exception, I’d appreciate it if she did the rest of us straight ones a favor and didn’t generalize us. Oh, does that p¡$$ me off. Opinions are like armpits; everybody’s got a couple, and most of them stink.

I would say the same thing about gay women—i.e., that they’re the best friends and don’t want anything from us—but it would only sound redundant and unoriginal at this point, and wouldn’t really accomplish anything. I often think if I have to be a man, it’d be easier being a gay one. It sounds backwards, I know, but they do seem to be more “acceptable.” Yeah, het-girls claim to be straight, yet most of them have lesbian tendencies, and they don’t seem to like guys very much.

Can I share a little story with you, just to vent? I actually heard this said in a college classroom where I was alone with a young woman and an older woman, and the younger one said, out loud, right in front of me, the words, “All the good guys are dating each other.” Or maybe it was “The only good guys are dating each other.” Anyway, the older one immediately responded with an emphatic, “Oh, honey, I KNOW!”

...

Right?

In case you couldn’t see there, I was rolling my eyes.

They knew full well I was there, they could clearly see me in their presence, and yet very enthusiastically expressed this mutual, repulsively archaic thought perfectly audibly anyway. Perhaps they thought I was gay...but somehow I doubt that. Suffice it to say, had I anything that could have been utilized as a weapon with me that day, I would be dead right now.

Okay, that’s not really true.

Well...it’s not totally true.

I don’t mean to get overly dramatic on you, or cry you a river, Dear Reader, but my depression, combined with the inability to be the person I would like to be inside, plus about a dozen other personal issues, semi-frequently translates into my suicidal thoughts and desires mentioned in earlier entries.

Anyway, getting back to my college anecdote, in reply to their comment, “the only good guys are dating each other,” again, it crossed my mind to say, “Oh, yeah? Well, so are the only decent women!” but I didn’t. For four reasons. 1) If there was only one of them there, a comment like that might have made a dent in her, but not with two of them, so I knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything, 2) it seemed unoriginal at that point, and would’ve just sounded like I was angrily volleying it back at them, meaning that 3) it would only have dragged me down to that level, and 4) it’s not in my belief. I believe that there are good men, not so good men, good women and not so good women (all of which can be applied to straight or gay).

So...I have mixed feelings about just letting that slide. On the one point, I’m proud of myself for not promptly lashing out at them and losing my temper and coming close to proving their point, but on the other hand I’m not really proud of myself for just sitting there and letting them get away with it, either. I didn’t defend myself. I suppose what I should have done, and should do if it happens again, is just look at them and calmly, rationally address them, saying, “Excuse me, but I’m straight, and I happen to be a genuinely good man, thanks and excuse me very much. And I find that pretty offensive and just wrong, honestly.” I still don’t think it would really achieve anything or change their minds, but at least I’d have spoken my piece and attempted to stand up for myself.

If you’re a gentleman, you probably know what I’m talking about. Especially if you’ve had classes or a job with women. It doesn’t really matter how they may feel individually. Once they get in a group, apparently they bond by verbally male-bashing. It’s a given that at least a few of them have had dates or relationships with men that probably haven’t gone so well, and whether whatever happened was actually the guy’s fault or not, they find it perfectly acceptable—hell, laudable, even—to say downright awful, outrageously insulting things about the entirety of us, whether there are men present at the time or not, and regardless of how the men there may feel about it. I have witnessed it firsthand, over and over again, in the numerous short-term jobs I’ve held. A few times it’s bothered me to the point where I’ve gotten up and left the room.

Of course—this is anger talking now—if you say something like you’re a man and don’t appreciate that, they’re liable to hit you with the old standby excuse, “It’s a joke.” No, a joke is when you make someone laugh. Jokes are humorous. If it’s a joke, what are you trying to say then, you didn’t really mean it? And if you didn’t mean it, why’d you say it to begin with? If that’s a joke, then please do me the courtesy of what you call “joking” someplace and sometime when I’m not around, how ‘bout it.

Then there are ones that seem so unhappy they decide they want to convert. You know, “men suck, let’s be lesbians.” And I say, “Good, do it! Start dating chicks! Just try to find yourself the perfect one! See how much fun you have! Then maybe you’ll realize that women aren’t always a bed of roses either and how one-sided, narrow and hateful your pathetic view on men is.” ‘Course, then they might start bashing real lesbians...

You see, and that’s the other reason I think of myself as a guy-lebbi. As much as it steams me when someone verbally trashes men, it’s yet even worse if they trash lesbians. It’s bad enough to hate me for something over which I had no control, but now attacking my gay sisters too? Not cool. So now any person at all who grows up and finds themselves attracted to women is automatically scum?

Let me try to break this down. Who bashes men (the most)? Right, the “straight” women. Why? ’Cause they’re “attracted” to them, go out with them, marry them, make babies with them and spend their lives with them, and then a guy does something they don’t like, they find other women with whom they have this in common, and there you go. They don’t do this with friends. They wouldn’t say these things about every member of a certain ethnicity—unless they want to be called a racist—racism, that’s not okay, so why is this okay? Why’s sexism against men okay (or at least tolerated) but sexism against women isn’t?

But the point I’m trying to reach with this is, people are inclined to bash members of a group to whom they’re romantically “attracted” (or have to be), but no one else. Gay guys are also attracted to men, so sometimes they join in on the ladies’ tirades, and start bashing themselves! And I think they outnumber us (“us” in this case being gynephiles); I think there’re more women than anybody, and certainly more gay men (that I can see) than lesbians. They’re allegedly androphilic—the straight girls and gay guys are—and yet say tons of hurtful things about men. Some guys say bad things about women too, and they’re no better, but I’ve really gotta believe that’s a minority. Most guys love women, and don’t want to say nasty stuff to or about them at all. See now the other reason I like the lebbies a lot? Straight women don’t know that being attracted to and dating them can be just as irritating as is dating us...but lesbians do.

I used to be someone’s lesbro (if you don’t know what a “lesbro” is, it’s the male version of an “‘f’-hag,” a straight man who enjoys and prefers the company of lesbians), but you kinda need at least one lesbuddy for that. I had one for a while, then out of nowhere one day, she friend-dumped me. That really hurt. I’m not gonna go into the reason why, it’s too ridiculous. But I’d still welcome the chance to be someone else’s lesbro, or...another made-up word for it I just recently found: “guyke.” Yeah...I’m not gonna be going by that. I...don’t care for that ‘d’-word that rhymes with “guyke.” I don’t call them “lesbos” either, I think that’s degrading too. I prefer to refer to them as “lesbis.” Or “lebbis.” (In Swedish, the word for it’s just “lebb,” so there you go.)

But getting back to what I was saying, it’s all but impossible for me to so much as meet one, let alone become good friends with her. Besides the way-too-meager number of them around, too many men have already screwed that up for me. I don’t think they like us at all anymore. After the umpteenth one comes up to them and asks if they’re into threesomes, that has to get pretty old. Yeah, he may not have any way of knowing they’re officially gay, they could be bisexual for all he knows, but still.

Speaking of things other guys’ve messed up for me, even though I’m not guilty of this myself, it’s clear to me that men really have the market cornered on...*sigh*...general homophobia. It really makes me feel crappy—which it shouldn’t, I know, I’m not guilty of it—but this is where bad things start to happen. Patterns occurring often enough within in a given group leads to stereotypes and generalizations, which I’m against. The last thing I want anybody to think is that ALL (straight) men are homophobic—and I really don’t think anyone does honestly believe that, but it worries me nonetheless. A great deal of straight men, it looks to me, are seeming to think that other men being gay either 1) lessens, softens, feminizes or threatens their masculinity, 2) are automatically going to try to hit on them, or 3) means that in some other wacky way it somehow messes up the nature of the universe.

And then, oh, this is truly disgusting, but sad to say, a fair deal of guys will see a lesbian (or what to them is a woman claiming to be one), and think, or even worse, say out loud, “Oh, she’s not really a lesbian, all she needs is a good time with ME, heh heh heh!” Pretty revolting, huh? I don’t know if the straight guys just don’t get it, or if they get it but just don’t want to believe or accept it...and even though there are indeed plenty of forward-thinking straight men such as myself who fully accept and welcome gay people into their lives, the anti-gay ones still make me feel pretty lousy and sick about just being born male. Besides which, like a lot of other traits, they make the entirety of us look pretty damaged and deficient as a gender. Hence, these gross, unfair and often downright untrue stereotypes are born.

All that being said, I adore lebbis, of course—enough to give them that cute little nickname—and if I just came out and said that to someone without having explained all the stuff I’ve written here so far, I know exactly what they’d be thinking. So do you. Heh. Yeah, it’s true, honest to goodness, I want to be their friend and vice versa, but just try being a dude and explaining to someone that you want to meet lesbians and be nothing but friends with them. Good luck! That’s not the reason I love them.

...

All right, it’s not the whole reason.

Okay, yes, I won’t lie to you, that is very nice. Lesbians kissing (or doing more than kissing) does give me a warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling inside. It does. Sue me. I adulate women, just love them to death—there’s no mistaking my gynephilia—and just holding and being affectionate with one feels so great. And I want them to be happy, natch, so seeing two (or more) of them both getting to experience that feminine affection with each other, at the same time, what could be better? But the other reason’s the earlier thing I said about wanting someone to bond with over my gynephilia. I hate it. It sucks. Not the women themselves, but being involuntarily drawn to them. That sucks. The temptation if you’re attached and the rejection if you’re not can be unbearable. Why were they created so...beautiful, and...alluring, and...sexy, and...irresistible, and...captivating, and...and...

...I’m sorry, what was my point again?

Kidding. Why did God, or whoever created us, make women so amazing, and us so...ordinary? Really, think about it. How often do you hear a woman describing her guy and calling him a “god,” or saying she married so far way above her “level,” or that he’s out of her “league,” or that he’s so “superior” to her, or way too “good” for her? Never. And I’m no exception; I’m certainly glad I’m married, because among other reasons, she’s the only woman who’s ever been interested in me. Well, visibly. Even if I were single and unattached, I still wouldn’t hit on anybody. Even should someone welcome my approach, how would I know if she’s actually interested or just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings?

Seeing scores of women out and about who are at least very cute if not ravishing, and knowing the chances they might (hypothetically) think the same thing about me are slim, zero and nothing, just...makes me sad. Which I know I shouldn’t be, I’m married, but...just saying. Have you ever been out somewhere and seen a random chick you didn’t know, never met before, and thought, Oh my God...why do you have to be so...pretty, and I so...not? Oh yeah, and then there’s my lovely foot fetish...*sigh*

Guys don’t have that same effect. Women (I’m guessing) don’t see a dude and automatically think, Damn...you’re gorgeous...I like you, but...you probably wouldn’t want me. But lesbians know what it feels like to be drawn to girls. Being girls themselves, I don’t think they have fetishes, but, you get the idea. And I used to say, “Despite what you may have heard about them, they don’t hate men just for being men,” but lately I’m starting to wonder about that, sadly. I also used to say that if lesbians really hated men, I’d feel so hurt, like I was losing my best friend(s), but that may have happened already. I know the straight ones really do hate us. They meet and go out with one or two bad apples, and then doom us all to failure, even though they don’t even know 90% of us personally. It doesn’t matter, suddenly we’re all jerks.

Ever notice in a hetero relationship, whenever anything goes wrong, it’s the guy’s fault? Or at least folks like to say it is? Well, if you have two girls together and something goes wrong...then what? How are you gonna blame that on a guy? I may not be perfect, but I do my best in my relationship, and we don’t have a lot of fights, but when we do, we don’t automatically assign blame where we think it should belong, we just work it out and move on. I went on only a few really lousy, crummy dates when I was a teenager before I met the lady who’s now my wifey, and had my heart broken a couple times, but it didn’t make me hate every girl on the planet. I’ve been mistreated by women before, but it’s hardly made me a misogynist.

So basically, to recap...I think of myself and identify as a male lesbian—even if it’s a concept hardly anyone understands—and my love for the female gender runs deeper than the ocean, even though I’m sad and wistful the sentiment doesn’t seem to be reciprocated. I’ve done just so much admiring and longing and dreaming, but at a certain point, after feeling like this long enough with a lack of own self-worth, -confidence and -esteem, my sense of wonder and awe in the marvel of a comely lass has kind of started to dwindle lately, for the same reason I explained in another entry for being out of attention to give.

It probably sounds dismal, but with the way my mindset is right now, I’m not really bouncing-off-the-walls ecstatic in my day-to-day life. The world isn’t going to change just because I want it to...I guess the only thing I can do is work towards changing my outlook on things. And just hope one day to strike up a friendship with a nice, real lesbian girl (at least one, if possible) to whom I might mean as much as she would to me. Well, I’m bringing it to a halt finally. Cheers, everybody. Sweet dreams.

Outlet

Greetings, Earthlings! Hope you have been enjoying the blog thus far.

In this entry, I’d like to focus on the actual writing aspect of my Lit activity. Putting together any sort of story and posting it online can serve a number of purposes. Those it does for me are as follows.

One aim to publishing a free story online is to provide Readers a bit of entertainment to occupy several moments of their free time—hopefully moments they won’t want back afterwards. What writer, after all, doesn’t want his or her Reader to be interested, even riveted, even engrossed? It’s what it’s all about, after all; if you don’t want your story to be read, why even post it?

I love my Readers, and I also love being able to create something that can be enjoyed in such a way. I’ve always wanted to be known and liked/appreciated for something...maybe even collect a few fans along the way. I used to act in community theater shows here in my corner of the U.S., but eventually I didn’t want to do that anymore. I was very good at it, but unfortunately it stopped being enjoyable.

The reason it stopped being enjoyable was because I couldn’t choose the productions that were being performed, and more often than not I was to portray the part of a villain, jerk or other unfavorable character. And for someone who hates the negative stereotypes that unfairly become associated with men in general such as myself, that got really old really fast. Unfortunately, such sources of fictional pop culture like this—especially situation comedies, movies, novels, advertising and the like, tend to really portray men in a terribly negative light. And as an M.R.A. (that stands for Men’s Rights Activist (yes, there are such male and female individuals)), I couldn’t appreciate that less.

Watching, listening to and reading these things enough, I began to realize just how off-kilter this whole system is in portraying the genders. And it couldn’t be less realistic at all, honestly. The fortunate part is, I think most people know and realize this, and don’t truly see real life this way. Most of us can recognize the distinction. At the same time, we still to this day are being slammed with them whenever we turn on the TV, go to the cinema or comb through the bookstore.

So after a while I began wishing things were turned back the other way. And I began thinking, the only way certain stories like this that I wished existed actually would...would be if I wrote them myself. So I started doing so, and more and more often.

This is the other reason I enjoy writing my Lit stories so much: it’s my outlet. It’s a way for me to get my frustrations out, to grind my proverbial axe, if you will. To get things off my chest. By creating a story in which things happen that ordinarily bother me, but turning them around in a way that doesn’t, this helps me deal with these things better. It’s like a form of therapy. Autherapy.

And I won’t lie by saying the gender dynamic doesn’t exist in my stories; it does. Most of the male characters in my stories (few though they are) are genuinely good, nice guys. Creating bad guy men characters is very purpose-defeating for me. If this makes the stories less popular, oh well. That’s fine. As much as the Readers and their opinions mean to me, I’m not going to go against my own principles to please more of them. I didn’t always feel this way, but at this point, if someone doesn’t like me for myself or my own literature, that’s okay.

This is not to say that all the female characters in my stories are evil, mean bitches; far from it. Most of them are just adorably sweet angels. The sad truth is, lots of people think a good story has to have some sort of a villain. I disagree. I don’t oppose the existence of villains, but the overabundance of male villains in any sort of fictional culture offends me. I’ve written lots of stories that have no villains at all, and they’ve turned out in my mind—as well as a number of Readers’—just beautifully.

This does, however, mean that when I have created villains or less than desirable characters, they have been female, for the most part. It doesn’t in the slightest mean I’m a misogynist, because I have just as many girl characters who are sweeter than sugar and spice. One day I just began wondering, what if all these stupid gender generalizations were turned upside-down? I still try to make them likable, though they’re evil villains. As an author, after all, you don’t want someone to hate your an- or protagonists, ideally.

I do hate being a man, honestly, and this isn’t exactly the place to elaborate on that, but this pretty much just goes back to my outlet of writing and getting these things off my chest. Fortunately for me, I seem to have the ability to shape things so that the stories are decently received—by those who have provided feedback, anyway.

So, this is one of the things that keeps me so obsessed with this activity. When I write stories that make me feel good and are skewed to my interests and appeal, and these stories are well-received by others, or “approved,” if you will, that’s a very hopeful feeling. It’s a feeling of validation and acceptance. It gives me faith that this fantasy world of mine—where we’re not mostly decimating men and glorifying women, and things are more equal—could one day at least be closer to reality.

I know in most’s opinions I’m being far too sensitive about this...I can’t defend these feelings except to say it’s just the way I feel. You know, everyone has something they’re especially passionate and adamant about. All I ask is that you don’t judge me personally for these feelings. If you don’t like my stories, that’s fine. If you don’t like me, well, frankly, my friend, that sounds like a “you” problem. If it makes you feel any better, I still like you.

Cheers! Thanks for visiting! —Smoke

Brilliance

Welcome back! Missed ya, my friends; long time, no see! The last entry I wrote was on my very first Lit story, “Give The Girl A Helping Hand,” from August of 2012, when it was written and published on the site. I was pleased and surprised by just how fast the views accelerated on it at first, which is the usual pattern when stories are first published. Within a couple of weeks it almost reached ten thousand views, which isn’t too bad considering the story is only one page long.

I put it up on the site to see what would happen, if anyone would like it, but it wasn’t until later I realized that another feature on the site you can regularly check on is your recent activity, found alongside the links to submit stories and view your stories’ stats, this was how I found out about the person who “favorited” it and the comment left on it.

I’ve got to be honest, I wasn’t planning on writing a sequel to it immediately after, but I didn’t have any other ideas off the bat, and the comment asked for a follow-up, and I have always had a compulsion inside to honor requests like this when someone makes them. So, I said, guess I’m doing so. Besides, I had the continuation of the original storyline all mapped out already. Anyone who read it knew what would happen next.

And so nine days later, on August 27th, 2012, I cranked out the sequel, the full name of which is, “Give The Girl A Helping Hand II: Stroke Of Brilliance.” At the end of part one, the young woman tells her gentleman companion that after the incredible performance he just gave using her as his instrument, that she now simply must watch him masturbate for her. So she now cuffs him down to the bed by his limbs, except for his right hand, so that he can stroke himself while enjoying her nude body. Eventually, she joins him between his legs and helps him.

Part two basically follows just where part one left off, with pretty much no time wasted. I still didn’t give the characters names, I still didn’t feel they were totally necessary. I just overused the subject and object pronouns to illustrate their story. I lengthened it a bit, brought part two to two pages on the site, and pretty much kept most of the details the same. Also the same remained the dedication, to hand-loving women.

Even though this one’s two pages, I was quick to realize that the nature of Lit Readers dictates that sequels aren’t going to receive as much attention as their originals, which I can’t say surprises me; it makes sense. It also hasn’t gotten any favorites or comments since it’s been on the site, but that’s another thing that’s just going to happen sometimes. And I will admit it was probably somewhat weaker than part one, which is okay. Not all of them can be golden winners.

I don’t know what would happen if I wrote a third installment to this today: maybe something, maybe nothing at all. By this point I’ve noticed a number of the same Readers have come back to visit me numerous times to stamp favorites on my stuff and leave the occasional comment, so maybe...it’s easy for me at this point to believe it would get at least one favorite. The last time I wrote a story that hasn’t gotten any favorites at all was twelve or thirteen Sagas ago, so either my writing has improved or I’ve earned some fans. Or both.

There is not much more to add regarding this story, except to say that after the young lady brings her guy companion to orgasm and he comes all over her, he falls asleep, but she remains indisputably dazed and dizzied by his manual mastery, and she doesn’t know what will happen next, but for now she’s happy to settle down with the gent in bed and fall asleep snuggled up to him. And that is basically that. A sweet and happy ending.

A Helping Hand

Hello there! Hope you’re doing well, m’friend. You look great, I’ll tell you that much right now. Well, now then that you know a little something about my writing style and story settings, I’ll start describing the actual stories themselves, beginning with my original number one from August ’12.

The very first story I posted to the Literotica site is entitled “Give The Girl A Helping Hand.” It focuses on a nameless young lass who grew up with a Dad who always played piano, and this early interest and fascination in her gradually translated into something of a kink. She doesn’t exactly have an Electra complex, but watching her father’s hands dancing across the keys and tickling the ivories generates a fetish inside her as she grows up, for male hands.

Around the time I came up with the idea for this story, I was researching the effect that a fetish has on a woman. I myself, Smokey, was born with a couple of fetishes, one in tickling, one in the bottoms of girls’ bare feet, so those sort of go together in a way. In terms of straight women—and by this I mean really straight ones, who genuinely like and love men—there are, on the surface, very very few of them who harbor a fetish for men’s feet. Not zero at all, but very few.

Men’s hands, on the other...eh...

Men’s hands appear to be quite a different story. This is one of those things you kind of have to go online and dig underneath to research and find. But it is a pretty valuable piece of info to have at...eh...

Anyway, even if it’s not a bonafide fetish, or a fascination, lots of women nevertheless don’t mind having a look at an attractive pair of gent-paws, and who could blame them? And while not all of them are going to be so eager to come out and say it, a great deal of straight women—again, truly straight ones—based on the research I’ve done, also very much enjoy watching a man masturbate. Once more, who could blame them?

If you are genuinely into the gender you’re attracted to, and you can get in comfortable touch with your sexual side, watching a cute, pretty, or downright beautiful specimen pleasuring him- or herself can be a real treat. The intense faces they make for you and the magic they work on themselves with their own hands is indeed quite the sight.

These things in mind, I began penning “Give The Girl A Helping Hand” and dedicated it at the beginning to women who have a thing for gentlemen’s hands. After establishing this quirk in the young lady’s psyche, I wanted to get right to the hot stuff, so I threw in less exposition and less of a story arc than I normally would have today, but I’m happy with the way the story came out altogether.

Being my first story, this was something of an experiment for me back then, to post this and see how it went. Now, tangent: when you post on Literotica, you’ve got a couple decisions to make besides just posting it. You can choose whether to allow Readers to vote on it with a rating of one to five stars. I had this feature going for a while, but eventually I turned it off, as I was just getting too many troll votes. Trolls will come on the site, like anywhere else, and one-bomb you, just for the hell of it. That’s just what they do. The site admins will often sweep these votes, but that doesn’t stop more from coming, and the inability to discern who was voting and if the votes were “real” or not really bothered me for a long time. Finally, I just turned the voting feature off, and have been much happier since.

Another choice you can make posting stories is whether or not to allow Anonymous feedback. There’re a couple ways for users to send feedback: one is to leave a comment, another is to click on your feedback tab alongside your bio and stories, and send you a message that way. For a similar reason, I also had the Anonymous commenting turned off for a long time, but have recently allowed that again. There’s a rationale behind this as well, which I’ll go into another time.

Getting back to the story, I don’t want to give you any spoilers if you’d prefer to just read it instead—here’s the link: Give The Girl A Helping Hand—but if you actually want a spoiler, highlight the following paragraph.

The young woman protagonist in the story has developed a sexual fantasy from sitting on her Daddy’s lap watching him play piano. Now she wants to meet an attractive pianist with beautiful hands, have him come to her place, pin her down on her bed and make her his piano, playing her all over like a Steinway. So she does. She sets a lovely, romantic mood for them and makes her dream come true. The young man expertly tickles her “ivories” and eventually, finally brings her to the most mindblowing orgasm she has ever experienced.

This is just a single page on Literotica, so that link’s all you need, you don’t have to do any more clicking to read the whole thing. It’s to date the shortest story I have written. In terms of feedback, it hasn’t received a great deal—understandable, as I was a brand-new author at the time, had everything to prove, and no one—including myself—knew if I was good or not. The story did, however, I’m glad and proud to say, receive one user “favorite” and one Anonymous comment, which I hadn’t turned off or back on yet. This was very encouraging. Not only was the comment favorable, but it actually asked me to write an additional chapter to this story. So nine days later, I did.

Coming up next, sequel time!

Smokey’s World

Here I’ll tell you a bit about my writing, in the form of their collective dynamics and surroundings. A good place to start is geography. The Smokey Sagas feature characters—both main and supporting—from a number of different parts of the world, but in the grand tradition of horror lit King Stephen, whose stories are definitively set in the state of Maine, all of my stories are set and take place in a fictional enormous city: a town, countryside and downtown metropolis. Unlike John Hughes’ fictional Shermer (which is basically the same as his beloved Chicago), my city has no name. It is also, however, found in Midwestern America, just about halfway between Minneapolis and Chicago. The city itself has no name, but its counties, regions and streets do.

I am an American, and therefore feel the most sense is made by setting my stories here. Though I do not live in the Midwest, it is one of my favorite parts of the country. In writing my first couple Sagas, I didn’t worry about choosing a set location; it seemed less than important. It’s not vital in all cases, but I do feel it’s good to give the Reader that bit of geographical context, for a sense of completion. Some Readers like to be given this info upfront to carry with them throughout the journey.

Another thing I like to do is open many stories—not all, but several—with an image of the natural meterological scene going on outdoors, whatever the time of year. Every story is given a date and time, once more, for establishing purposes. This also may not be direly necessary information, but I like to be thorough. I enjoy painting the whole picture. Which leads me to the following paragraph.

Admittedly, I haven’t read a great deal of Lit stories other than my own. This may not make me a very attentive member; it’s a personal thing. There are reasons, they’re just very complicated. But I speculate nonetheless that my Sagas exceed the normal average length of many others’. I begin by typing them in Microsoft Word documents, 8-point Georgia font, and most of them range from nine up to twelve or thirteen pages in this format. On the Lit site, this translates to four or five pages. As this is a site for erotic stories, lots of authors keep their content to a sexual minimum. There’s clearly nothing wrong with this. I, on the other hand, like to elaborate.

I do consider my writing style decently unique. I like to create three-dimensional characters with detailed backgrounds. Most Readers respond well to well-developed characters, as this gives them an opportunity to find things in the characters to which they can relate themselves. So in writing characters I do my best to give them a balance between accessibility to your average Reader with common human traits, and uniqueness by giving most of them some sort of quirky or whimsical flair.

I consider the story good if I can shape it with an arc that moves things along and keeps the Reader interested—obviously—and also give it a bit of a twist that may or may not have been seen coming. I think it’s fun to throw things in that are wacky or illogical as well and make a Reader sit up and say, “...Huh?” There are lots and lots of stories out there already, making it already difficult to captivate a Reader’s attention to begin with. If things get boring and predictable, that’s...not so great.

I’m extremely grateful for Reader support and feedback, and for those who’ve shown me approval—especially on multiple occasions. More experienced members and authors told me if I wrote and posted on Literotica long enough, eventually I would begin garnering a fanbase. I was unsure if this was true, particularly if the quality of my stories was less than stellar, or not quite up to par, but I think I am doing something right, based on some of the reactions I’ve gotten. This has become such a big part of my life, it has me all but obsessed by this point. I have a YouTube channel as well, but its content stems from pop culture I’m a fan of, but didn’t actually create myself. Lit, on the other hand—this, these stories, are all mine. Directly from my imagination, a little inspiration here and there, but bottom line, they’re my own original stories. And I love writing them.

I think I’m pretty competent at this, and it isn’t often I come across activities I both am skilled at and genuinely enjoy. Perhaps this could grow into something more one day. For now, it’s a nice hobby. I try to put some real heart and emotion into my stories along with eroticism and intimacy, and I think it shows. It is now time to retire for the night, but I will certainly return to blog on this some more soon! Thanks for dropping by! —Smoke

Welcome...

Well, now, what a glorious surprise! I’m so glad you could join me! My name is Smokey, and I’d like to welcome you to my erotic story blog. Whether you have read any pieces in my modest library found on the Literotica web site (Smokey125 Lit Submissions) or are stopping by to visit for the first time, I’m quite glad to see you! My collection of stories is constantly being added to and further built on; I usually manage to crank out a new one every one to two weeks. I like to experiment with different types and categories of content, although many of my tales overlap in terms of nuance and kink.

If you are unfamiliar with my work and considering sampling a Smokey Saga or two, please be warned beforehand that first of all, make no mistake, these are erotic stories. Do allow me to clarify, as I don't wish you to be unfortunately surprised or disappointed. Except for the scant few that fall under the Non-Erotic category, these stories are sexual. Very sexual. If you’re not acquainted with Literotica, it’s the largest resource of erotic literature, poetry, illustrations, forums and the like to be found online, and has been so since the late ’90s. Most stories available to post and read for free here are indeed highly sexual, in-depth and very detailed, including my own. Just to give you an idea what you’re getting into.

So out of all the genres of literature to choose from in my journey of writing, why erotica? Well, putting the writing factor aside for a while, let me explore this by altering that question to, why sex?

Why sex? Some would be content to reply, “Why not?” and leave it at that. While I find that reasoning perfectly valid, I’d like to add a bit more input.

Bring up the topic of sex to a random given stranger you’ve never met. What’s your average reaction? Well, perhaps this varies globally—the populations of a number of nations and provinces on our Earth embrace sex with open arms, others avoid it with skittishness. Here in the nervous, uptight U.S.A. where I live, we are not conventionally encouraged to be so free and open with our sexuality. Oh, we have nudist communities and that sort of thing, but this is exactly what they are: communities. Select groups who choose to assemble and celebrate the miracle of their bodies in the flesh. It’s a beautiful thing.

Nudity, however, is but one component of sex. Getting back to the “skittish” factor, especially uncomfy individuals blow straight by this and consider public sexual displays, demonstrations, discussions, what have you, inappropriate. Or even...disgusting, no less. Pardon me? In case you’ve forgotten, had it not been for the act of sex, you wouldn’t be here today. And I’m not squarely blaming these folks; we are after all societally taught at an early age that sex is a fundamentally taboo subject. A “dirty” thing. I understand the powers of suggestion, and I understand societal expectations and standards, but at the same time I think that once you grow up, you have to start thinking for yourself and coming to your own opinions.

This is mind, I proudly proclaim that sex is a natural human practice, that I harbor a natural fascination and interest with it, and am not afraid to say so. And I hasten to add this is not due solely to the fact that I am male. (Just about every hour of every day I wish I were female, and there are reasons for this, but that’s a topic for another day and another entry.) This is one of my biggest issues and bones to pick with the aforementioned society standards—lots of which are double. Contrary to the myths, tropes, stereotypes, generalizations we’re bombarded with each day, men are not simple, single-minded, penis-ruled horn dogs at the very base. Some may be, but you (by which I mean anyone) cannot paint us all with this thick brush. We’re also not nearly all potential rapists, either—another slight that highly pisses me off. Lots of women enjoy exploring their sexuality and are fascinated with it just as much as many men are, but they don’t express it, for fear of being labeled a “slut” or a “whore”.

This is a giant injustice in my view. Whoever you are, having a healthy intrigue and desire for sex and a high libido alone does not make you a slut or a whore. Cheating on your significant other with dozens of other people would be a more fitting description. It is possible to enjoy a happy, healthy sex life without being unfaithful. And what I resent about this particular tilted table is the implication that since the appeal of sex is something mainly just associated with men, women that also enjoy sex are somehow “lesser,” or less worthy than other women, or may even be considered traitors to their gender. You know, if we could lay off this ridiculous mentality, let anyone—male, female—be freer with their sexual sides and loosened up, we might—might—just realize that believe it or not, men are NOT fundamentally oversexed libidinous pigs, and deep down, women can—and do—love sex as well! (Not all of them, but many!) It’s natural, for heaven’s sake. It’s a natural human thing. Not male, not female, human.

Now returning to this business about the multiple components of sex of which the nude human body is only one, we then have so many others: attraction, contact, sensation, emotion, fetish, kink, devotion, erogenous zones, desire, love, pleasure...to name a few. And I do believe that almost everyone (I’m using the word “almost” just to be on the cautious side here) bears at least a small ember at the core that grows just a little excited inside at the prospect of basic sexuality and the surrounding acts, even if they are shy or reluctant to express it. Again, there are a number of hang-ups standing in the way. Then some, I suppose, are frankly asexual, and that’s all there is to it, which I cannot personally understand, but to each his or her own. To my way of thinking, a lifetime of abstinent chastity would result in irreparable pent-up frustration and depression, but hey, to each his or her own. I don’t judge.

A number of religious folks are visibly uninterested, uncomfortable or turned-off by sex (on the surface, he added discreetly), and also, as an aside, don’t care for homosexuals, two things God Him/Her/Itself obviously has no problems with—otherwise, why would He/She/It place them here? I am not homosexual, but I have written dozens of stories in the area of lesbian sex—more on this later. The religion thing is just one of those bizarre aspects of humanity I will never understand. It’s mere coincidence that although I was raised Catholic, I am today not religious in the slightest.

About half...maybe a few more than half of the stories I’ve written are sapphic. And then the rest are hetero-oriented: one man and one woman having sex. Occasionally there have been two women together with a single man, but not too often. I have not and shall not in the future be writing any gay male-centered stories, because, at the risk of stating the obvious, these are my stories. And as such, they are going to reflect my own personality characteristics, my own interests, my own mindsets. As a straight male, and therefore a gynephile (straight men and lesbians = gynephiles; straight women and gay men = androphiles), all of my stories will include at least one female main character. Whether she is straight, bi or gay will depend on the other characters and the storyline. Then of course, once the characters are introduced, the story will simply unfold and play out from there.

I’ll go into more detail in the individual stories and storylines and so on in future entries, but for now I’ll say that about half my stories are nice, sweet, light, fluffy pieces which may have conflict, but always also have happy endings. That would attest to the word “Tenderness” up there in the title. The other half, then, are wicked, cruel, evil, sadistic, devilish works that involve more hardcore elements such as B(ondage)D(iscipline and)S(ado)M(asochism), torture and agony, humiliation, prolonged and denied orgasms and so forth. And that attests for the rest of the blog title. All of them (nice and evil) include some good humor and fun, and of course a dose of hot (often kinky) sex.

You can also find my biography on the site, alongside my stories, with some of my basic personal info. Oh, and this comes with another warning: listed there are my fetishes (tickling, female soles, etc.), which are highly prevalent in my works. So if those specific things are turn-offs for you, you probably won’t get that much out of this, although who knows for sure...

Another thing I’ll tell you in description of the Sagas is that most of them are written in simple third-person. I prefer third-person as opposed to the popular first-person (although I’ve written just a couple in first) because as third-person narrator you can provide the reader with as much information as they need to know in any area of the storyline, whereas in first-person you’re kind of restricted to what the protagonist knows. And there’s nothing wrong with this; obviously, a lot of very good, popular tales have been spun from the protagonist’s point of view. Sometimes it’s advantageous. Sometimes third is.

The third-person stories, since about #10, in January ’14, have been numbered. They say at the top “Smokey Saga #...” whichever, or nowadays just “SS...”. Also since #10, they’ve been following a pattern. All of the even-numbered stories past #10 are the nice, sweet ones I mentioned two paragraphs ago; the odd-numbered are the evil ones. Just something else to keep in mind.

This is all basic information for my opening blog entry on my Smokey Sagas. I give you this and the story link at the top in paragraph one to do with as you will, at your discretion. If you’ve read this and based on it wish to check out the stories, excellent. By all means. If not, that’s fine too. If you do read and want to give me feedback, that’s fantastic. I cherish and treasure each of my Readers (that’s how much; I capitalize the ‘r’), and am interested intrigued to know what they think. But don’t feel you have to give feedback if you don’t really want to; I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything. And you don’t have to be a registered Literotica member to comment—although it’s encouraged. You can leave comments as an Anonymous user, but this also increases your odds as being a troll. And trolls are simply unnecessary in my circles. For now, more entries to come soon! Thanks for stopping by! —Love, Smokey