\n\t\t\t\t\tFutakuArt is an artist that has consistently put out quality public-themed content for as long as I have followed them (which is quite a long time). So, it only made sense to commission him for Pat and Perci's first penetration piece, right in the middle of the street in the back of Pat's car of course. Go follow them if you aren't already.And as always, thank you
\n\t\t\t\t\twellifimust for proofreading.----------
How It Really Happened
Allegedly, it was Mark Twain who once said, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
It’s a horrible quote in the context of journalism and politics (especially concerning the spread of misinformation across the internet), but it’s an invaluable quote when it comes to writing fiction.
See, a fair number of my stories are inspired off of events that have happened in my life. Some borrow more from reality than others, but I never copied them word for word. After all, life doesn’t always give you the ending you want.
Take Perci, for example. I may have mentioned this before, but when I originally created her, I based her heavily off of a woman I knew from college. Much like the Perci you know, she was a curly-haired free spirit with a penchant for marijuana and kink. I met her through my roommate and through an unexpected turn of events, she invited me to a BDSM play party without telling me. That night served as the inspiration for my first foray into long-form fiction: “A Prelude to Perversion.”
However, unlike in the story, Perci didn't take my virginity until a long while after that party. It was about a year later. She and I were hanging out in her bedroom. I had been crushing on her for some time and her boyfriend and her had opened up their relationship about a month prior. Still, I did my best to keep it in my pants. After all, with or without benefits, she was still my friend. Though, her mentioning the threesome she had a week ago didn’t help.
Eventually, the conversation drifted to the topic of her new job at a distribution center. The pay was good and the boss wasn’t a total jackass, but she wasn’t used to all the walking she had to do.
“My legs are killing me!” or something like that she said.
So I offered my help, “Want me to massage them?”
I recall her being surprised, but she welcomed my proposition, sliding her skinny jeans off and laying herself across the bed. I started out innocently enough, focusing on her thighs, shins, and calves in equal measure. However, after a while, I started giving her upper legs more attention. My hands crawled higher and higher, each time waiting with bated breath for her to tell me to stop. Yet, even with my fingers slipping under the leg openings of her panties and squeezing her hips, she did not protest.
Instead, she curled her knees up, allowing her to slide her panties down her legs and toss them to the side. It was the first time ever seeing a woman’s privates in the flesh. Her bush was unshaven and messy, but that didn’t deter me from leaning in and tasting her.
It was hard to breathe between her legs but I made do. After about ten minutes of drinking her juices, she had me stop.
“I want to go further…”
So did I.
“…but I’m worried my parents will hear us.”
Damn it! Oh well, I figured it was best to take it slow anyway… until she suggested continuing in my car.
Mind you, this was before I discovered my knack for exhibitionism, so I was hesitant. Nonetheless, the opportunity to pop my cherry was too sweet to deny. Minutes later, I was situated across the back seat with my pants around my ankles. She was rolling a rubber onto my dick and climbing on top of me. She took it slow at first, letting us get used to the sensation of each other, but it wasn’t long before she was riding me like a rollercoaster. I don’t recall how long we were out there, but given all the moaning and grunting she was doing, it was a miracle we didn’t get caught.
Despite our best efforts, neither of us came that night. Chalk it up to nerves, I guess. That’s okay though, as we went on to have plenty of orgasms together over the next five months as friends with benefits.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck on both our ends. On her side, her boyfriend broke up with her, and on my end my depression had gotten worse after losing a friend to suicide. She ended up looking to me for love at a time when I couldn’t even find it in me to love myself.
I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say things could’ve ended on better terms. Eventually, with some help from my family, I started seeing a therapist and getting my life back on track. Last I heard, she fell into the alt right rabbit hole and lost a lot of her friends after posting xenophobic conspiracy theories on Facebook. Ironic, considering she was a third-wave feminist while we were friends.
Looking back I can say I have some regrets about that relationship. There were a number of red flags I was too naive to recognize. Plus, I wasn’t the best at communication, especially when I was at my lowest. Even so, I can’t deny I discovered a lot about myself when I was with her; not just regarding kink, but also how I view relationships and my own self-image. Plus, my experiences with her ended up inspiring me to write and publish stories, which got me more involved in the fandom. There are friends I never would’ve made had I not begun writing.
Originally, one of the story ideas I was going to work on after APtP was going to be about how we broke up, but over time, writing short story after short story about all the kinky exhibitionist hijinks my characters got into, I realized that’s not the story I want to write. Sure, tragedy has its time and place in storytelling, but there are enough sad endings out there in the real world.
Why write about red flags in a relationship, when I can write about the green ones? If I can write about how a lack of communication can lead to a break up, then I can write about how clear and thoughtful communication can make a relationship even stronger. Because in my eyes, there’s more to erotica than just the climax. There’s the awkwardness and humor in the act itself, the intimacy and emotions between partners, the trust that goes into being so vulnerable with another person, and that’s what I want to capture in my stories.
So yeah, while my past is a great influence on my stories, I won't let it make me write anything I won’t enjoy writing nor anything my followers won’t enjoy reading. Because no matter how much the truth inspires me, I won’t let it get in the way of a good story.