8 comments/ 21877 views/ 26 favorites How to Get You to Read My Story, #1 By: SusanJillParker Writer shows how to entice readers to read her stories by using mother and son incest. There are more than fifty-five thousand writers who contribute stories to Literotica. With all of the stories, tens of thousands of them that appear each year and nearly three hundred thousand stories that appear in Literotica's archives, how do I entice readers to read my story on Literotica? Not an easy thing to do, especially when there are so very many other stories on the site vying for the readers' attention, how do I entice a reader to read my story when there are so very many other stories to read? Since there are so many other stories to read, why would a reader take the time out of his or her busy life to read my story over another story? Surely, no one has the time or the inclination to sit for hours every day to read every, single, new story that posts on Literotica. Chances are readers will go to their one or two favorite authors and/or categories to read the new stories that posted for that day before scrolling down the new story list and/or searching through the archives hoping to find the story or stories that interest them. With so very many stories on the site, chances are that they won't read my story but someone else's story. For the time they're looking at the daily list of new stories, wanting to read something good, sexy, and hot, Literotica's pornographic and erotic readers are a captive audience just waiting for my story to grab their attention. Nonetheless, my job as a writer, before they scroll by my story to read someone else's story, I must capture their attention for them to read my story. Either by the title, by the category that the story posts in, and/or by my reputation as a writer, my story must reach out and grab them for them to read it. So how do I do that? How do I entice the reader to read my story? * * * * * No matter which category a reader favors, typically, it's the title and the first sentence of the story that grabs the readers' attention, even if it's a category that they don't normally read. Another way of grabbing readers' attention is to make all of my titles as close to 35 letters as possible, the most letters that Literotica allows in the story title. That way, by making my story more noticeable in making my title longer, as if waving to the reader to catch their eye, my story title sticks out past all the other story titles. Tricks of the site, for the same reason as stated above, I also make the description line of the story, the line that appears just beneath the title, as long as Literotica allows too, about 60 characters. As another way to entice readers to read my story over someone else's story, I could write more pornography. Being that most readers prefer reading pornography over erotica, something to get them sexually aroused enough to masturbate over, I could write more stroke stories, instead of writing more erotic, real stories. Writing pornography over erotica is certainly one way to gain more readership but at the sacrifice of those who prefer reading erotica over pornography. Besides, more difficult and rewarding to write, I much prefer writing erotica than I do pornography. Since most readers prefer reading incest stories, I could write stories for that one specific category and that one select audience. Whether they are mother/son/father/daughter, sister/brother, grandmother/grandfather/grandson/granddaughter, uncle/aunt/niece/ nephew, and mother/father-in-law/sister-in-law/brother-in-law stories, incest stories are the most popular stories on the site. Dating back to ancient times, even though there is so much more to writing erotica than writing mother and son incest stories, nonetheless and by far, mother and son incest stories remain the favorite incest stories on the site. Why is that? Call it Sigmund Freud's Oedipus complex, when a man fantasizes killing his father to have sex with his mother, this one storyline, not necessarily killing one's father but definitely having sex with their mothers, seems to be the favorite fantasy of men. Especially but not necessarily, if their mother is a MILF, a mother I'd like to fuck, men love reading about women that are young, sexy, and beautiful enough with young sons that are old enough to give them hot sex. Ergo, if I wanted to entice readers to read my stories, I could concentrate on that one specific category and on that one niche of writing mother and son stories that show a beautiful, young mother seducing her son or a son having his wicked way with his shapely and sexy mother. Perhaps it's better that I show the reader than to tell the reader how I can entice a reader to read my stories by writing an incestuous story of a mother seducing her son. Perhaps it's better to give the reader an example of what I mean by writing a short, incestuous scenario of a mother with her son. Below is an example of how to entice readers by using a mother and son incest story. * * * * * "Mom, I'm home," said Johnny walking in the front door from his college class. "Mom? Where are you?" * * * * * Pornography versus erotica, instead of beginning the story with sex between a mother and her son as a pornographic writer would, conversely as an erotica writer, I first need to introduce my characters with some character development to explain who my characters are and what their motivation is. Already from the first line we know the son's name is Johnny and being that he's home from college class, over 18-years-old, he's old enough to attend college. Different from pornography, erotica uses dialogue, description, imagery, and tension to gain and maintain the readers' interest. Even in a pornographic story that's filled with sex but little else, a reader won't read a story unless he or she feels connected to a story by, at the very least, a character that interests them. Unless the reader just wants to read about sex while masturbating, an undeveloped character won't interest anyone to read the story past the sexual parts. * * * * * It was just him and his mother now since his father left them five years ago for his sexy secretary, Jennifer, a woman nearly half his age. If taking her husband suddenly leaving her without warning wasn't difficult enough, leaving her for a woman who was young enough to be his daughter was even more difficult. As if he stuck a knife through her heart and left without so much as looking back to see all that he was leaving behind, her, his son, and the good home that she provided, how dare he do that to them? Thirty-seven-years-old when her husband left her and now 42-years-old, even though Maureen was an attractive woman, how could she compete against a 24-year-old woman? She couldn't. How could she compete against someone so young and carefree? She couldn't. How could he do that to her and to her son? Five years later, his secretary isn't even thirty-years-old. He's such a pig. How could he abandon her and his child for sex? Wait until Jennifer dumps him for a younger man. Wait until Jennifer grows older and gets dumped if not by her husband, then by someone else. Wait until it's her turn to cry with a broken heart. What comes around goes around. Young and beautiful now but that won't protect her from rejection later when she's older and not as good looking then as she is now. Someone who wasn't weighed down with the responsibility of a husband, a child, and a house, could concentrate all of her attention on him, the man that she stole from Maureen, Johnny's father. As a woman and a as person who has her own wants, needs, and desires, she didn't have that kind of time to dote on her husband in the way that his sexy secretary could. Putting herself in the background while caring for their house and their son, she couldn't just forsake herself for him in the way that some, young, immature, slut of a secretary could. There was no getting her husband back or even wanting him back now after how he humiliated her by cheating on her with another woman and a much younger woman at that. Taking the breakup hard and walking around in a daze as if losing her mind, she's been drinking ever since. * * * * * Now that we have a brief glimpse of the mother, we need a brief glimpse of the son. Being that this is an incestuous relationship, a mother and son sexual story, chances are that the mother and son will have sex. So now we need to know what motivates them to come together for sex. Why would a mother have sex with her son is more curious than why would a son want to have sex with his mother? Since most sons fantasize about having sex with their mothers at one time or another, it's easier to understand the son's motivation to want to have sex with his mother than it is to understand the mother's motivation to want to have sex with her son. Moreover, normally, with the mother the more mature adult who's more in control of her emotions and with a young son who's eternally horny, it's much easier for a mother to seduce her son than it is for a son to seduce his mother. * * * * * "I'm in the kitchen," said his mother leaning against the refrigerator to steady herself while supporting her resolve with a heavy hand on the kitchen counter for what she was about to do. As soon as Johnny walked in the kitchen, he saw his mother standing in the middle of the room. "Mom!" "Hi Johnny," she said nervously smiling at him while taking a sip of her drink. "How was your class?" How was his class? Who cares about college? As if he had seen a ghost, he stopped dead in his tracks. As if he was still sleeping and dreaming or as if he was drunk or high, he questioned his sanity. As if his sexual fantasy had come to life, immediately he developed an erection. Then when she turned to face him, she gave him a full frontal view of her. As if posing for a Playboy Playmate photo shoot or as if starring in a porn movie, his mother stood there staring at him staring at her. As if he was having his usual fantasy of seeing his mother naked in his dreams, he couldn't believe his eyes. Naked, naked, naked, with nothing but for her wide, bright smile, his mother was standing there naked. "You're naked," said Johnny talking to his mother's exposed, big breasts. She looked down at herself obviously to see all that she was showing and all that he was seeing before looking back at him with a face full of sexual excitement. "Being that you're stating the obvious, I guess that I am naked. It's a good thing that I didn't open the door to get the mail or the newspaper," she said with a laugh while continuing to stare at him staring at her. "I would have given the neighbors quite the show that I'm giving you now." Never removing his eyes from her nakedness, staring from her breasts down to her pussy, he stared at her body as if trying to remember every curve of his naked mother. Definitely, never forgetting the naked sight of her, he'll be masturbating over this sexy sight of her for years. She must be drunk for her to be standing there in front of him without her clothes. She must be crazy to be standing in front of him naked. "Why are you naked?" * * * * * Why is the mother naked? We don't know. The reader will have to read more of my story to find out why the mother is naked. With just the appearance of his naked mother and with just the son asking his mother why she's naked, hopefully, I've already hooked the reader to want to know why the mother is naked and to read more of my story. No doubt aroused that a mother is not only naked in front of her son but also that the reader wants to know why the mother is naked in front of her son, the reader feels compelled to read more of the story. Instead of mother and son just jumping in bed to have incestuous sex, something usually missing from a pornographic story, what happens next is more character buildup to make the reader not only feel the mother's plight but also see the son's incestuous, sexual excitement. The reader won't care about the characters and about the story, unless I show the reader who the mother and son are. Moreover, such a bold move on the part of the mother, still the unanswered question, the readers want to know why Johnny's mother is naked. * * * * * Always looking at her as if undressing her with his eyes, today he didn't have to do that. Right here and right now, as if he was dreaming her, she was already naked. Standing before her son without wearing a dress to conceal her beautiful body, she wasn't wearing a blouse or a bra to conceal her C cup breasts, her pink areolas, and her erect nipples. She wasn't wearing panties to cover her trimmed, auburn pussy and/or her round, firm ass. Standing there naked, she wasn't wearing any clothes. Standing far enough away from her to take her all in with one glance, he looked from her face to stare at her tits and then at her pussy. With his eyes continually moving up and down from her breasts to her pussy as if he was watching a vertical ping pong game, he was as much sexually excited as he was confused. Glad that she was naked, he thought, but why was she naked? No doubt, either she's lost her mind or she must be drunk. Believing the latter than the former and since she was drinking at this time of day, he figured she was drunk. * * * * * Building the tension by delaying in telling the reader the reason why his mother greeted him naked, the reader still wants to know why this mother is standing before her son without her clothes. Moreover, now we know that not only is the son interested in seeing his mother naked but also we know that Johnny wants to have sex with his mother. As it so happens, Johnny has been fantasizing over having sex with his mother for five, long, sexually frustrating years, ever since he turned 18-years-old. Being that his mother is standing there without her clothes, it seems inevitable that mother and son will be having incestuous sex. Especially if incest and especially if mother and son incest is something that interests the reader, thus far, I was successful in enticing the reader to read my story. * * * * * "We need to talk Johnny," said his mother taking a big sip of her drink for courage before brushing back her long, red, beautiful hair from her bright, blue eyes. As if she was a new bride and walking up to her husband to give herself to him on her Honeymoon, she walked to her son to offer herself to him. In the way she's done so many times before, she ran her fingers through his red, soft hair and looked deeply in his blue eyes that matched hers. Then, something she's never done before, she gave him more than a motherly kiss on the lips before surprising him by parting his lips with her tongue while pressing her naked body against him to give him a pelvis to pelvis hump of a hug. Something so very inappropriate that a mother should never do with her son, this mother was French kissing her son while naked. As if he was dreaming her kiss but using everything around him as a reference that he wasn't dreaming, when she put her arm around his neck, he could hear her ice cubes clinking in her glass. When she French kissed him, he could taste the alcohol on her lips and on her tongue. While hugging him, smelling as if she had just emerged from a fragrant bath of exotic, bath oils, the aroma of the mixture of perfume and body wash reminded him of all the times he cracked open her bathroom and bedroom door to peep on her while she was bathing or dressing. Such a familiar scent, as soon as he opened her door to peek at her nakedness, in a rush of steamy fog, he was greeted by the same smells. The familiar floral smells of his mother made more powerful with her being naked, as well as the feel of his mother's shapely, naked body was intoxicating. Alas and unfortunately, she had been drinking again. He didn't like her as much when she was drinking. Always worrying about her now, especially whenever she was home alone, he was just glad that she was home and not out driving drunk again. He didn't understand how someone so beautiful and so sexy could be so unhappy to be drinking and now to be standing before him naked. Naked, naked, naked, he couldn't believe his mother was naked. Naked, naked, naked, he couldn't remove his eyes from her beautiful, naked body. Naked, naked, naked, wanting to touch her, feel her, and caress her everywhere, he wanted her now more than ever before. All that he could think about was that he was finally seeing his mother naked. Nonetheless her being naked, he didn't understand why his mother didn't move on and find someone else to take his father's place. Not a happy drunk, he didn't like her when she was drunk. A chore that he didn't mind doing, more than once he had helped her to bed. Never having the courage to undress her, more than once he felt her through her clothes while hoping she was too drunk to notice his inappropriate albeit loving touches of her beautiful, sexy body. While standing there in the dark watching her sleep, more than once he held her drunken hand to his bulge. Once even, he dared to put his naked cock in her hand. Moving her hand back and forth with his, he had her give him a drunken hand job and stopped just moving her hand before cumming. So soundly sleeping drunk, he even ran his cock across her lips while imagining his mother sucking him. Involuntarily, he hoped she'd take him in her mouth and suck him but she didn't. More than once, he wished he could strip himself naked and climb in bed bedside her. With his cock buried between her ass cheeks, he imagined spooning her while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect nipples. His incestuous, sexual fantasy was to undress her on the pretense of putting her bed naked so as not to wrinkle her clothes. He couldn't count the number of times that he masturbated while imagining himself undressing his mother naked for bed. And now, here she is standing in the kitchen naked before him naked. Naked, naked, naked, with his cock aching for her, the incestuous lust that he felt for his mother screamed through his head in the way of a fire alarm. Certainly not needing to undress her for bed now, he could only imagine where he'd touch her when putting her to bed later tonight when she was soundly sleeping. * * * * * When developing characters, as part of a character's description and as part of bonding the reader to the story, writers use the five senses, eyes seeing, tongue tasting, hands touching, nose smelling, and ears hearing. Using the five senses connects the reader more to the character. By using the five senses, instead of them just being words on a page, we give characters human traits to make them more real and more believable in the readers' minds. The writer needs to breathe life into the characters so that they won't fall flat and, instead, will move up from the page to become three dimensional in the readers mind. * * * * * Unable to control himself with him never having felt his mother's naked body against him before, he returned her kiss before wrapping his arm around his mother's waist to pull her closer and to hug her tighter. A thought he's masturbated over doing many times before, holding and hugging his mother's naked body is something that he never could have imagined the sensation of that he was feeling now. He couldn't believe that he was holding his naked mother in his arms but he was. He couldn't believe he was French kissing his mother but he was. With a son French kissing his mother, overwhelmed with emotion for his love of his mother, he wanted to help her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to save her from herself. Only, with his incestuous desire for her getting in his way of ordering her to get dressed, he didn't know how to save his mother from herself or from him. Overwhelmed with incestuous lust for his mother, putting his sexual needs over her need for psychiatric help, he wanted to make love to her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to make his mother is sexy bitch who'd give him hot sex anytime he wanted to have hot sex. Maybe now that she was already naked, giving her a real need to see a shrink, he could at least have sex with her before having her see a psychiatrist. How to Get You to Read My Story, #1 Showing his mother how he truly felt about her, embarrassed by it yet excited by it, he could already feel his huge erection poking his mother in her soft belly through his jeans. Then, he did what he's always wanted to do and what he's done through her jeans or through her panty when lifting her short skirt when she's drunk and sleeping. He slowly dropped his hand down to feel the round, firmness of his mother's naked ass. He looked in her big, blue eyes as if to ask her permission and she gave him a smile and a nod as if giving him the go ahead to feel her full breasts and finger her nipples. * * * * * Even though we still don't know why his mother is standing there naked, being that we're now so engrossed in the story of a naked mother allowing her son to kiss her while touching and feeling her naked body, we don't care. Especially those readers who have mothers that they'd like to fuck, they imagined themselves with their naked mothers. Especially those readers who prefer pornography over erotica, they're now more interested with what mother and son does than they are with why the mother stripped herself naked and is standing in front of her son without her clothes in the first place. Is Johnny going to bend his mother over the kitchen table and fuck her from behind like a dog or is he going to give her shoulder a gentle push as his subtle hint for her to fall to her knees to suck him? Is Maureen going to allow her son to make love to her? Will she suck her son? Being that we now know who the characters are and have already bonded with them somewhat, we are more interested to know what it is they are about to do than why the mother is naked. * * * * * "Talk?" "Yes, we need to talk Johnny," she said. As if lost in a video game, as if he was texting on his cell phone, or playing on his gaming pad, her buttons to her erogenous zones, his thumbs and index fingers worked her erect nipples. As if she wasn't even there but for her naked body, more engrossed in her naked body than in her words or even why she was standing there naked, he continued feeling his mother's tits while pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples. "Talk about what mother?" "About the birds and the bees," she said with smugness as she looked down to watch his fingers deftly fingering her nipples while quivering with the sexual excitement that he was giving her. His fingers made her nipples so hard. His fingers, without even touching her pussy, obvious by the way that she was squirming in the way of a grasshopper rubbing it's legs together, already made her so wet. "The birds and the bees, mother? I don't understand," he said. "Yes, the birds and the bees," she said. "We need to talk about sex." Momentarily, he stopped fingering her nipples to look up at her with confusion before returning to touch and feel her breasts and before continuing to finger her nipples. A longtime sexual fantasy of wanting to touch her tits while fingering her nipples, he loved his mother's big breasts. Always trying to sneak a peak of her breasts with down nightgown views of her tits, now that she allowed him to touch her, feel her, fondle her, and caress her breasts while fingering her nipples, he wasn't even listening to her. "I know all about sex mother," he finally said snidely. Normally whenever she was drunk and he inappropriately touched and felt his mother through her clothes while putting her to bed, he always felt so wickedly guilty after for taking sexual advantage of her being drunk. Yet, now that she was naked and with her inviting him to see her naked and touch her while naked, too sexually excited to feel guilty, he didn't care. With her already naked, he couldn't wait to climb in bed with her naked too. "I don't think you do know all about sex," she said with as much attitude as he gave her when he told her that he knows all about sex. "Why do you say that mother?" Willing to play her game so long as he could have his horny way with her beautiful breasts, her erect nipples, and her naked body, he continued touching her and feeling her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother. "I found my panties beneath your pillow," she said stiff arming him away from her to pick up her panties from the kitchen counter. To be continued... How to Get You to Read My Story, #2 There are no underage characters in this story. All characters in the story are over the age of 18-years-old. How to Get You to Read My Story #2 Writer shows how to entice readers to read her stories by using mother and son incest. Aha! Oh, oh, here it comes, even more character development as to why the mother did what she did in stripping herself naked and why the son does what he does by sniffing her panties. Yet, even with this bit of new and insightful information, having a multitude of directions that the writer can go, the reader still doesn't really know why the mother is naked. Naked, naked, naked, why is she naked? Seriously, what mother would strip herself naked and then stand naked in front of her son? Obviously by the fact that she found her panties beneath his pillow, she knows that he wants her and maybe she wants him too. Yet is it just that simple? Why not just give him a lecture why it's wrong for him to be sniffing Mommy's panties? Needing to suspend the readers' disbelief by giving the reader a valid reason why Johnny's mother is naked, the story won't work otherwise as an erotic story. If I didn't develop the characters and if I omitted an explanation why his mother is standing before him naked, I'd have more of a pornographic story than an erotic one. Why is his mother naked? Obviously she wants her son to give her sex but what motivated her to be so blatantly incestuous by removing all of her clothes? * * * * * As if she was inviting him to sniff her slightly worn albeit aromatic panties in front of her, she held them up to his nose. Instantly the color drained from his face. He was caught. He was embarrassed. Nonetheless the shock of seeing his mother naked and with her holding her used panties beneath his nose, unable to control himself, he took a stealthy whiff. Someone who was so disposed to sniff panties, especially their mother's panties, it's understandable that a son would sniff her panties now that they were offered to him to sniff. "Oh," he said pushing her hand away embarrassed that he had sniffed his mother's panties in front of her. "Sorry," was all that he could utter in his defense. Caught red handed, what else could he say? It was an accident? Your panties were mixed in with my pillowcase in the laundry? Giving him mixed signals, if she was angry with him for sniffing her panties, he was even more confused why she was standing there naked. Now his brain was electrified with the visual and aromatic image of his mother's, white albeit stained with a tinge of yellow bikini panties. "Have you been sniffing Mommy's panties?" Obviously wanting to make her point as clear as a dozen of roses, she asked the obvious question while rubbing her panties in his face. "Yes," he said removing his hands from her breasts to push her panties away. So sexually aroused before feeling his mother's tits while fingering her nipples, he hung his head down in shame. Why was she doing this to him? Why was she embarrassing him? Nonetheless her outrageous behavior in standing before him naked and in rubbing her panties in his face, the musky aroma of her used panties made him dizzy with incestuous, sexual excitement. With an uncontrollable sexual desire for her, with her standing there naked, and with her rubbing her panties in his face made him want his mother even more. "Have you been masturbating while fantasizing over having sex with Mommy?" Duh? Caught now with her panties beneath his pillow in the way that he used to hide dirty magazines, he couldn't possibly count how many times he's masturbate over seeing up skirts and down blouses of his sexy and shapely mother while imagining her on her knees and sucking his cock. Suck my cock bitch was his only retort that went through his mind in the way of a Wall Street ticker tape machine. He thought of all the times he wished she'd open his bedroom door to catch him masturbating. He thought of all the times that he wished she'd help him masturbate. Being that she was standing naked in the kitchen now, he wondered if she caught him masturbating in the future would she stand there and watch while staring at his erect cock. Wishing he had the balls, he so wanted to pull out his prick and masturbate in front of her now. What would she do if he did? Would she stare or would she look away? Would she reach out her hand to touch him and stroke him or would she fall to her knees to suck him. "Yes," he said looking as embarrassed as he should have looked but didn't when he walked in the kitchen and saw his mother naked. Naked, naked, naked, he still couldn't believe his mother was naked. Never having to imagine her naked again, here she was standing in the brightly lit kitchen naked. He wondered if he pulled out his cell phone if she'd allow him to video her. He'd love to post her on the Internet to show his friends his naked mother. "Well, strip off your clothes and get naked with me," she said with a shrug. Strip off my clothes? Did my MILF of a mother just say what he thought she said? His mother wants him to strip off his clothes? His mother wants him to get naked with her. Why? A wave of incestuous, sexual excitement took hold of him with the thoughts of him standing in front of his mother naked in the way that she stood in front of him naked. Naked, naked, naked, his mother wants to see him naked. "Pardon?" He looked at her with excited confusion. "Today I will make you a man. Today I will give you sex. As your mother, your parental guardian, by allowing you to move on with your life, today I will make you feel all that you've been imagining in hopes that this fixation with you having sex with me won't turn into a perversity. Now remove your clothes and get naked with Mommy." * * * * * With incestuous stories no different than any other story, writers write incestuous stories from firsthand experience, from reading other incestuous stories, from their imaginations, or from a combination of all three. Being that incest stories have been done so very many times before, it's not easy to write a good incest story with a fresh viewpoint. It's even more difficult to make an incest story believable. Wanting the son to be the aggressor, most readers want the mother to remain innocent. Most readers want the son coercing, tricking, or even forcing the mother to have sex with the son. Yet, with so many sexual cougars today, with sex out in the open more than it ever was before, and with more single mothers alone, horny and/or vulnerable, more mothers are seducing their sons. Not teasing, coercing, tricking, and/or forcing just any man, more mothers are teasing, coercing, tricking, and even forcing their sons to pleasure them to satisfy their sexual need for sex. Just as it's believable that a son would tease, coerce, trick, and/or force his mother to have sex with him, now it's just as believable that a mother would tease, coerce, trick, and/or force his mother to have sex with her. Whether male or female, just as we all have needs, we all are only human. * * * * * Always obeying his mother, Johnny quickly undressed. Stripping himself naked, yet somewhat embarrassed by his erection and by his mother's constant stare, he covered his erect cock with his hand. Just as he never figured his mother would greet him naked, he never figured his mother would want him to strip naked too. Even though he's always imagined her doing just that while masturbating over the thoughts of her leering at his cock, he never imagined his mother would really stare at his exposed, erect prick. "Move your hand away," she said as if he was blocking the TV. "I want to see. Show me your cock. I want to see my son's prick," she said picking up her drink to take another sip while staring at his engorged prick. "I'm embarrassed that I have an erection Mom," he said. * * * * * Yet, whether it's an incest story or any other category of story, it's not easy to make any story seem real enough to suspend the reader's disbelief long enough to make the story believable. Especially with an incest story, character development is important for the story to be believable enough for the reader not to think that he's reading pornography over erotica. Whether an incestuous story or any other category of story, a story without a plot, character development, dialogue, tension, imagery, and description is not much of a story. Only there's more to writing erotica than just writing about incest. There's more to erotica than just writing about a mother having sex with her son and a son having sex with his mother. When writing erotica, the writer has a better chance of suspending the reader's disbelief for them to become absorbed in the story than when writing pornography. When reading erotica, the reader has a better chance of suspending their disbelief for them to become absorbed in the story than when reading pornography. Literotica has 36 different categories of stories and poems, Anal, BDSM, Celebrities, Chain Stories, Erotic Couplings, Erotic Horror, Exhibitionism & Voyeurism, Fetish, First Time, Gay Male, Group Sex, How To, Humor & Satire, Illustrated, Incest/Taboo, Interracial Love, Lesbian Sex, Loving Wives, Mature, Mind Control, Non-English, Non-Erotic, Non-Consent/Reluctance, Non-Human, Novels and Novellas, Reviews & Essays, Romance, Sci-Fi & Fantasy, Text with Audio, Toys & Masturbation, Transsexuals & Cross Dressers, Erotic Poetry, Illustrated Poetry, Non-Erotic Poetry, and Poetry with Audio. I write in 30 of the 36 categories. Surely, by writing in so very many different categories and by casting such a broad net, that's one way to get readers to read my stories. If a reader reads and enjoys one of my stories in one category, that may entice the reader to read another one of my stories in another category, a category that he or she would normally have no interest in reading. There are other ways to get readers to read my stories too. Being that everyone is a critic and a potential basher and with some readers thinking that Literotica is the Harvard Review of Literature instead of a porn site, I could make sure that my stories are free of grammatical, spelling, and typo errors. Definitely more readers would read my stories if they knew that my stories were free from errors and if they knew in advance that when reading one of my stories they were professionally written by a professional writer rather than an amateurish story written by a novice writer. Yet we writers are human too. As do all humans, we make mistakes. Sometimes getting lost in our own story, skimming instead of rereading, we read what we think we wrote but didn't, especially after having read and reread our story so very many times while checking for errors. Further, we writers write for Literotica for free. We don't have an editor, although there are editors available on the site. We don't have an arsenal of editorial assistants to help us with the mundane tasks of checking for factual information, grammatical, and spelling mistakes. Always I laugh when a reader finds one lousy typo mistake in a 20,000 word story and feels compelled that he or she must make a bashing comment. "I coulnd't even read your story beyond teh first paige. You put there insted of their," he has the nerve to write. "I had to gave you a won vote." A real bashing quote taken from one of my stories, if you read what he wrote more closely, you'll notice that the ungrateful reader wasn't even able to write one grammatically correct sentence in his complaint yet he's bashing my 20,000 word story for one typo. Unfortunately, that's typical of the bashing comments that I usually receive. Too many readers not only don't bother to vote, too many readers never comment unless making a bash. I have more chance of receiving a bashing comment to my stories than I do receiving helpful and/or complimentary feedback. Between all the death threats, prophesies that I'm going to Hell, and obscene comments about what they'd like to do to me and what they want me to do to them, you should read some of the e-mail that I receive. Fortunately, most of the e-mails are good rather than bad. Whenever I post a mother and son incest story, unbelievably, I receive 300 to 500 e-mails the first two days. Being that I'm only as good as my last posted story, I answer every one of them so long as they are not crassly rude to build my readership. Readers love incest stories, especially mother and son incest stories. Don't get me wrong, I've received my fair share of compliments for my stories and for my writing abilities, but any comment whether good or bad are few and far between. Fortunately for me, my stories have a higher voting average than other stories on the site but generally, one in one thousand readers will vote and one in ten thousand readers will make a comment. Just as that's a rather sad commentary that's a rather extraordinary statistic after all the hard work the writers put forth in writing their stories in the hopes of receiving a vote and/or comment. I've had readers ask me why my scores are so low and how come I don't have as many red H's as some of the other writers who write stories that aren't as good as my stories. Simple. Those stories that I write as theme and monthly contest stories are bashed because a select few clicky writers don't want me to win a contest. If you compare my non-contest stories to my contest stories, my scores are much higher for those stories not submitted in a contest. Being that the writers here are jealous of a writer so prolific, the only contest I win and have a chance of winning is Literotica's yearlong Survivor contest, where the most stories in the most categories wins and not the highest votes. As difficult as it is sad to believe, the only satisfaction we writers hope to receive from the readers are their votes and comments. Think of your votes and your comments as applause. People wouldn't go to see a live performance without applauding. Why would they read a free story and not give the writer the courtesy of a vote or comment? I don't understand readers' unappreciative behavior in not voting or commenting. You don't have to register to vote. At the very least, not voting, never mind commenting, is just being ungratefully rude. * * * * * "Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed to show Mommy your cock? Is it because you have an erection? It's normal for you to have an erection when seeing me naked. You should be proud that you're sexually excited for your mother. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not embarrassed that I'm already wet for my son," she said. "Now move your hand away to show Mommy your cock." She looked up at him in the way that he was looking at her. "I feel funny mother. If my friends knew you were standing here naked, they'd be jealous. If my friends knew that I was standing here naked, they'd think that I was a pervert." "You mustn't tell your friends about this Johnny. No one must know. What happens here is just between a mother and her son. Now move your hand away and show me your cock." "Okay," he said. "You have a beautiful cock Johnny," she said reaching out to take it in her hand before leaning down and moving her long, red hair out of the way to kiss it. * * * * * Too many writers don't describe their characters before throwing them together naked in bed. Too many writers don't even take the time to name their characters. If a writer doesn't describe their characters and doesn't even name them, the reader can't see the character in his or her mind. Without describing and/or naming their characters, the writer hasn't given the reader a clue or an image for the reader to see who he or she is writing about. The reader needs to see what the writer sees. If the reader can't see the characters in their mind, then they cannot bond with the characters. If they can't bond with the characters, then they can't feel for the characters or care about their plight in the story. Without caring about the characters, an unmemorable story, they really don't care about the story or about what the writer has worked so hard to write. To make a reader more likely to read my story, to care about my characters, and to care about my story, I could make sure that my characters are described well enough for the reader to see them enough to imagine them. Maybe describing my characters better would entice more readers to read my stories. When describing their characters, too many writers just dump the entire character description in one sentence. It's always best that the characters' descriptions be weaved throughout the story in bits and pieces and repeated in spots so that the reader remembers the characters' names and what the characters looks like without having to stop reading to look back through the story again and again. * * * * * I'm a character writer. It's people who inspire me to write. For me to be inspired to write a story is as easy as reading someone's face and imagining memorable moments in their life. Yet, just as I can't imagine writing a story without fully describing a character or even naming them, I can't imagine writing about something that I don't know. I can only write what I know and in that vein most of my stories are more true than not, especially my exhibitionism stories. Being that I'm an exhibitionist, nearly all of my stories of exhibitionism are true. Just as if I didn't have something interesting to write about, if I didn't develop my characters, the story would be boring. I wouldn't be doing my job as a writer and I'd be doing a disservice to my readers by not writing the best character driven story that I can. When the writer breathes life into his or her characters is when the characters are fully developed. When the characters are fully developed is when the reader can see who the writer is writing about and imagine who it is they are reading. Even if the reader cannot imagine the writer's characters, chances are by developing characters and especially through the use of dialogue, the writer will give enough information, imagery, and description for the reader to imagine someone they know. By developing my characters and engaging the reader with imagery, description, tension, and dialogue, it's at that moment that my writing becomes inspired writing. Once the characters become three dimensional instead of flat, is when I know that I'm showing my characters' story and not telling my story. Unlike mechanical writing, writing for the sake of writing, inspired writing is the best writing. Unlike other writers, I never stare at a blank page while wondering what story to write. Unlike other writers, I don't write one story at a time. Just as I wait until I'm inspired, I write 10 to 20 stories at a time. Going from one story to the next, as soon as my inspiration stops with one, I work on another. In this way, all of my writing is inspired. In this way, this is the best writing that I can offer the reader. As if being struck by lightning, I wait until the story moves through my brain in the way of a slow express train making its way down the tracks nonstop. Normally, I get the entire story in my head from the title, to the category, to the characters' names, and to the end. It's when the characters step up off the page that I can hand them the keyboard and have them write their own damn story. Just the writer and not the actor in the story, I'm just a vessel used to show my characters' stories. * * * * * Unfortunately, too many stories don't have a beginning, a middle, and an end to their stories. Even though it's a preferred way of writing a story for the writer to begin the story in the very middle, there still needs to be a beginning, a middle, and an end. There still needs to be character development for the reader to know what the writer is writing about. If the writer wants to begin his or her story with sex, the writer needs to hurry up and introduce the characters for the reader to see what the writer sees. Without character development, description, and imagery, no one wants to read about two talking heads having sex with oohs and ahs and not much else in between. How to Get You to Read My Story, #2 Truth be told, by first hand experiences and research, a writer can only write what they know. Yet how does a writer write about anal sex when they've never had anal sex? How does a writer write about being gay, lesbian, having a fetish, or being a cross dresser, when they aren't gay, lesbian, have a fetish, or are a cross dresser? They develop their characters, that's how. They allow their characters to show what it's like to have anal sex, be gay, lesbian, having a fetish or being a cross dresser. A good writer will allow his character to show the reader their story but for the characters to show the reader their story, they must be developed first. Writing a good story is writing a believable story. The writer wants the reader's disbelief suspended while reading all that he or she wrote. The writer wants to make the reader feel and think that he or she is there in the story feeling and seeing what the writer sees and feels. Developing characters is how the writer does that. Having the characters talk to one another is another way for the reader to learn who the characters are without having to read through unnecessary paragraphs of narrative. There's no story if there aren't any developed characters. * * * * * Which leads to another way to entice readers to read my story, show and tell. No one wants to read a story where the writer lectures the reader with long, paragraphs of narrative. Much like reading a college text book, passive reading is boring and doesn't flow in the way of active writing. Why? Because the writer is telling the reader the story instead of showing the reader the story. It's when the writer inserts description, imagery, tension, and dialogue that the reader can insert themselves in the story by actually seeing and feeling what the writer is seeing and feeling. Moreover, unless I weaved a story of a mother standing naked in front of her son in this How To story, few would read it. Because I've weaved an incestuous story in this How To story about a mother seducing her son, more readers may read this. * * * * * "Mom!" "Oh don't be such a prude. It was just a kiss Johnny. It wasn't as if I took your cock in my mouth to suck it," she said. "That's for later," she said with a dirty laugh. He stared at her while wondering if he should confess his inner most thoughts. With the both of them standing there naked, now seemed the best time to truly share how he felt about his mother. "I've always imagined you touching my prick mother. I always imagined you sucking me," he said. "Your cock is much bigger than your father's cock. Your father had a little cock," she said with a smile while fondling the head of his cock with her fingertips before slowly stroking it. "Do you like that? Do you like Mommy stroking your cock?" * * * * * As if the reader is doing something naughty by listening to someone's private conversation, dialogue engages the reader, especially when the reader can see the characters saying the things that they say. Dialogue makes the reader connect with the characters. Dialogue helps tell the story without the writer having to use paragraphs of extraneous narrative. A picture is worth a thousand words is so true when it comes to imagery, description, and dialogue especially when used sparingly. * * * * * "Yes," he said staring down at her hand while watching his mother stroking him. "I love the feeling of you touching my cock mother." She looked from his stiff prick to look down at herself. "Do you like my body?" "Do I like your body? Yes, of course. I love your body," he said. "Do you want to touch me?" "Yes," he said. "Not just touch, but would you like to feel Mommy and fondle Mommy in the way that I'm feeling and fondling you now?" "Yes," he said. "Go ahead," she said. "Touch me, feel me, and fondle me. Explore my body in the way you've always imagined while masturbating." "Oh my God," he mumbled. "I can't believe you're naked and I'm feeling you," he said reaching out his horny hands to feel her breasts and finger her nipples." No doubt remembering the first sight along with the first feel of his mother's breasts for the rest of his life, in the way he had before when hugging her, Johnny felt his mother's big tits again. In all the days he masturbated over the thoughts of seeing her big tits and in all the times he's seen down blouses of her bra and cleavage and down nightgowns of her breasts, her areolas, and her nipples, he never suspected that they'd be so firm yet so soft. Touching them, feeling them, fondling them, and caressing them, he loved his mother's big tits. Unable to stop himself from feeling them, he couldn't get enough of her breasts. * * * * * As if we are there seeing Maureen being felt up by her son, Johnny, it's the dialogue, the description, and the imagery that makes us feel connected to the characters. Can you see Maureen's breasts? Can you see the son's reaction to touching and feeling his mother? What the mother says to the son and how the son responds to the mother is what makes the story more believable. What the mother and son do to one another, as described by the writer, entices the reader to read more of the story. To be continued... How to Get You to Read My Story, #3 There are no underage characters in this story. All characters are over the age of 18-years-old. * Writer shows how to entice readers to read her stories by using mother and son incest. With all the stories posted to Literotica and with all of the stories that I've posted to Literotica, it's still a mystery to me how to get you to read my story? Being that incest is the most popular category on the site, I could use incest to entice you to read my How To story. Normally, few readers on the site read How To stories but if I pepper my stories with incestuous displays of sex between a mother and her son, perhaps you'll not only read my How To story but also will enjoy reading my How To story more. * * * * * "Touch my nipples Johnny," she leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear. "Mommy likes having her nipples fingered. You touching my nipples makes Mommy hot." Exciting him that she referred to herself as Mommy, Johnny obediently obeyed his mother by slowly running his fingers across her nipples, first one and then the other. Shocked by it and reminding himself to ask her about it later, he didn't know that his mother had a tiny purple and pink tattoo on her left boob of Tinker Bell. It would have been cool if she had a green tattoo of Peter Pan on her right boob too and maybe a tattoo of Captain Hook down by her pussy on one of her ass cheeks with Tick-Tock the crocodile on her other ass cheek. Strangely enough, of all people to have a tattoo, never thinking of her as wild enough and/or drunk enough to get a tattoo, he never suspected his mother had a tattoo. It was just one small tattoo but that one small tattoo evoked images of her being a party girl, or a wild college coed riding on motorcycles, and having sex in public. Moreover with the placement of her tattoo, being that she was ordinarily so modest, someone who would never stand naked in her kitchen, he never suspected that she'd have a tattoo on her breast of all places. Just thinking about her getting the tattoo on her breast made him sexually excited to imagine the man staring at and touching his mother's tits long enough for him to tattoo his mother's tit. Unless he was a blind man who could tattoo her from a distance and without touching her, surely, he must have seen, touched, and felt her naked breasts long enough for him to tattoo her big breast. He could just imagine his fingertips touching her tit while his hand held her breast steady in the way that he's always wanted to touch and feel his mother's tits. He wondered if this tattoo artist, whoever he was, touched her nipple, if only by accident. He imagined the tattoo artist holding his mother's breast in the palm of his hand as if her breast was something so delicately valuable and, indeed, it was to him. He wondered if his mother's nipple erected and hardened in the way that his cock was erecting and hardening now when thinking about the tattoo artist seeing, touching, feeling, and holding his mother's breast. Oddly enough, he never figured that any other man but his father manhandled her breasts in the way that she gave him permission to touch, feel, and caress them now. Maybe it was a woman who tattooed his mother and not a man. Maybe she was a lesbian woman who his mother had a brief affair with and her reward for his mother giving her sex was to give her this tattoo. Not really thinking that his mother could be bi-sexual, yet, off course, nonetheless, it must have been female tattoo artist who drew this tattoo. Forget about even seeing and touching her breasts, his mother would never allow a man to tattoo her breast. Maybe his father was there watching her being tattooed. Maybe his mother was drunk and coerced by her ex-husband, his father, at the time she had the tattoo. Maybe she got the tattoo before she was married and before she met his father. He wondered if she regretted getting the tattoo. He wished he could have been there to watch his mother getting a tattoo while some stranger manhandled her big boob. How hot that would be to watch another man staring, touching, feeling, and tattooing his mother's breast? He wished he could have helped hold his mother's breasts while she was getting her tattoo. If he was there holding her breasts while she was getting tattooed, making it appear accidental, every once in a while, he'd rub his finger across her nipple. He'd look to see her nipple erected and to see if his touch excited her in the way that merely touching her breasts and nipples would surely have excited him back then. Being that she was standing in front of him naked, not having to wonder if she had another tattoo somewhere else, no Peter Pan, no Captain Hook, and no Tick-Tock the crocodile, he knew that this was the only tattoo she had. He couldn't imagine his mother having a life before him to even get a tattoo. Forget about having a sex life, enough of which for her to be so resplendently tattooed on her tit, he wondered how his mother was at his age. Odd that she'd be standing naked in the kitchen on the pretense of giving him sex so that he wouldn't evolve into a pervert, thinking now that was just her excuse to have sex with him, he suspected that she wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her. With his mother standing there naked, seemingly, she was more perverted that he was. Maybe, genetically encoded, he gets his perversion to sniff her panties from her. Years from now when he's married with kids, he'll remember his children's grandmother standing in the kitchen naked with her tattooed breast proudly on display to his incestuously horny eyes. If only his children, the children that he hasn't yet had, knew that their grandmother was a hot, sexy, tattooed woman, they'd think differently of her standing naked before her son and of him wanting to have sex with his mother. How could he violate his mother, his perceived children's grandmother, by having sex with her? Obviously she's drunk but she's naked. It would be so easy to forget about all the pretenses of what he should do and shouldn't do and just bend his mother over the kitchen table and slip his cock inside of her and fuck her like a dog. Too focused on her tits, her pussy, and her ass, as if the fog of his sexual excitement had cleared enough for him to see anything of her other than her nudity, it was then that he noticed her freckles. She had so many freckles all over her body, even more than she had on her face. With her being so shyly modest and with them living in a cold climate anyway, having never seen her in a bathing suit or bikini, he never realized that she was so freckled. He figured that only her beautiful face was freckled. Being that she was a redhead with long, beautiful, red hair and freckles, even though he had freckles all over his body too, he never figured that her freckles would speckle her breasts, her shoulders, and her back too. Even though he had freckles too, she had beautiful freckles. Her freckles made her look sexy. He loved her freckles. He wanted to kiss every one of her freckles. * * * * * By weaving more character description in the story about the mother's tattoo and her freckles, we're allowing the reader to see more of the mother. Did you see her tattoo on her naked breast? Could you imagine her freckled, naked body? Even though we are showing the story from the son's eyes and inside of the son's head, in a mother and son incest story, it's the mother that we more want to see than the son. * * * * * "I love your big tits Mom," he said staring at her big, blue eyes. "You have better tits than any movie star I've seen on TV," he said staring at his mother boobs. "You're my Christina Hendricks of Mad Men," he said. "Thank you Johnny, but Christina Hendricks has much larger breasts than I do," she said looking down at her breasts with admiration. "I still love your big tits Mom," he said. In the way that she looked at them, touched them, and felt them it was obvious to him that she loved her big breasts. Even more sexually exciting than his mother being proud of her breasts, obviously she enjoyed showing her naked breasts to her son. "Being that I'm here in the kitchen with you naked and being that you're feeling my breasts while fingering my nipples, please don't call me Mom. Call me Maureen." "Okay Maureen," he said. With his man-sized hands barely big enough to contain them, he felt the weight of her breasts in his hands while staring at them. He so wanted to suck her big nipples. He couldn't wait to suck her tits while feeling her tits. Yet, even though he wanted to suck his mother's tits and even though he was standing there naked with his naked mother and she gave him her permission to touch her and feel her, he was afraid to suck her tits. Unable to remove his eyes from her big breasts, her pink areolas, and erect nipples, his cock was as stiffly hard as her breasts were firmly soft. Having imagined feeling them while masturbating over the thoughts of touching them, he never would have guessed that his mother's breasts would feel so heavy, so soft, and yet so firm. These were real, natural woman's breasts and not some artificial confection of what a plastic surgeon developed in his lab with silicone implants. These were real women's breasts and not some 18-year-old girls' breasts that he felt in a darkened movie theatre or a 23-year-old woman's breasts that he furtively felt in his car while she gave him a hand job or a blowjob. Maybe because he's lusted so very long over his mother's breasts was the reason why he was enjoying feeling her breasts rather than feeling the breasts of a woman his age. "Suck my breasts Johnny. I can't wait to feel your mouth on my nipples," she said breathlessly. "Go ahead baby. Suck Mommy's tits. Suck my tits." Having seen the impressions of his mother's nipples through her nightgown many time before, they appeared even bigger from the side instead of seeing them from the front. He never figured his mother's nipples would be so big when aroused and feel so hard. Immediately, as if an involuntary reaction in preparation to suck his mother's tits, his lips pursed as if he was a goldfish hungry for food. He couldn't wait to suck his mother's tits. Sucking one breast, he felt her other breast. Sucking her other breast, he move his hand back to feel her other breast before going back from sucking one to sucking the other. Back and forth and back and forth from sucking to feeling to sucking to feeling. He never tired of sucking and feeling his mother's big tits. "You have such big nipples mother, I mean, Maureen." * * * * * Could the reader imagine Johnny's mother? Did you, as the reader see Johnny's mother's big tits? Could you, as the reader feel Maureen's big tits too? If I did my job as a writer, the reader is there with Johnny seeing and feeling his mother's tits while fingering and sucking her nipples. If I did my job as a writer, the reader would be aroused perhaps in thinking about seeing and feeling his own mother's breasts. If I did my job as a writer, the reader wants to continue reading my story. If I did my job as a writer the reader may even feel compelled to not only vote for my story but also to give me the highest vote, a five star vote. Maybe the reader even favored my story and made me one of their favorite authors. A rarity, maybe the reader even took the time to leave a comment on my story. Alas and unfortunately, only ½ of one percent who reads the stories that I post to Literotica votes for the story. So, if a writer receives 1,000 hits on his story, he or she will only receive 5 votes. Nine hundred ninety-nine readers who opened the story chose not to vote for the story. Why? Maybe they didn't read the story but for the first paragraph. I have no way of knowing that. Obviously they were curious about the story enough to open the story and hopefully to read it. I suspect that more people read the story than who closed the story without reading the story. So, if you went through all the trouble, time, and energy to read the story, why not vote for the story? Think of your votes as applause. You wouldn't attend a live performance and not clap for the performer, so why would you come here, read my story, and not applaud me for writing what, hopefully, you so enjoyed reading? I don't understand how someone could be so rude not to vote for stories that they read for free. We writers work hard to write you the best story for free. Forget about commenting on my story and receiving some kind of feedback from the reader. For every ten thousand readers who open my story to read, only one reader will leave a comment. How about that for a disturbing statistic, especially if you're the one who wrote the story? Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine readers won't comment on a story that they read and/or enjoyed. How about that? Why? I don't understand. I have more chance of receiving a bashing comment than I do receiving a compliment that someone enjoyed my story. Constructive criticism is even rarer. God forbid I make one lousy typo, the reader will accuse me of not only editing my story but not reading my story to catch the mistake. I don't get. * * * * * Too often, too many stories have too much narrative and no dialogue. There needs a balance of narrative and dialogue and it's very easy for a writer to tilt too far one way or the other. Too much narrative and the story becomes slow, wordy, and tiring to read. Too much dialogue and the story runs too fast with not enough backstory and information about the characters explained for the reader to not only bond to them but also to bond to the story. Where narrative sets the stage, dialogue shows the action. Dialogue is important to have in a story. Dialogue allows the writer to advance the story without having to write paragraphs and pages of narrative. Dialogue, along with much needed narrative, allows the writer to develop the characters by showing the reader what they are thinking for them to say what they said. Dialogue advances the story without dragging the story. Too much dialogue, however can make the story go too fast. Used for pacing, some stories need as much narrative as it needs dialogue. Just as some writers prefer writing narrative over dialogue, other writers prefer writing dialogue over narrative. How much narrative and how much dialogue is always an elusive formula. Most readers won't read a story that has no white space and that is blackened by thousands of words. Write tight is what one of my creative writing professors always espoused. Omit needless words. Use one word to describe something instead of using ten. Use one sentence of description or imagery to avoid writing an entire paragraph. Make your reader feel what you feel by inserting dialogue when you need to share the character's thoughts with the reader. Make your readers see what you see by using description and imagery. Especially when writing a short story, always move the story forward by editing out what's not important to advance the story. * * * * * "Don't be afraid to touch me and to feel me Johnny. I want you to explore my body. I want you to touch and feel me everywhere you imagined touching and feeling me as you masturbated alone in you room while sniffing my panties," she said. Stunned that not only his mother was naked, he was stunned that she willingly allowing him to touch and feel her before giving him sex. "Okay," he said and was all that he could say. As if he was dreaming or fantasizing this exchange, he was waiting to awaken. "Maybe I should have opened your door to watch you masturbate," she said stepping closer to him and standing on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Nipping you sniffing my panties in the bud, maybe I should have helped you masturbate yourself. Would you have like me to do that Johnny? Would you have enjoyed Mommy playing with your cock?" "Yes mother. There were many times that I wished you'd open my door just as there were many times that I wished it was your hand giving me pleasure instead of my hand," he said. "Maybe I should have taken your stiff prick in my mouth and sucked you," she said standing on her toes again to whisper in his ear. She stepped back to look in his eyes. "Would you have liked that, Mommy sucking you?" "Yes," he said while wishing she had blown him. Now he'll never know what it felt like to have received a blowjob from his mother. Yet, not allowing this opportunity to slip by her, his mother surprised him with what she said next. "Would you like Mommy to blow you? Would you like Mommy to suck her son?" She looked at him while waiting for him to answer. "I can do that. I can suck your cock if you want me to suck you cock," she said whispering the last part as if cock was a dirty word and indeed it was with a mother suggesting to suck her son. "Oh yes mother, yes. I would love for you to blow me. I very much want you to suck me," he said with sexual excitement. "I bet you'd love to cum in Mommy's mouth," she lifted his hand and took his index finger to slowly rub across her lips before sucking his finger as if she was sucking his cock. "I bet you'd love for Mommy to swallow your cum while you put a heavy hand to the back of my head," she said with a diabolical laugh. "I bet you can't wait to hump my mouth and fuck my face," she said with her face twisted with incestuous lust for her son. He moved his finger away from her mouth to put his hand behind her to feel the round, firmness of her ass. Feeling it, sneezing it, and groping it, he continued to touch and feel his mother where no son should ever touch and feel his mother. Finally, making the big move, as if reaching down her body to unlock the combination to a safe that had a valuable hidden treasure inside, he reached his hand between her legs to cup her moist pussy in the palm of his hand. She was so wet for him. She was so hot for him. She was so ready to suck him and for him to fuck her. If ever there was one, she was such a MILF. * * * * * Unless the writer is God and can see all and feel all, it's important that the writer pick one character to tell the story from their eyes. Normally, it is much too difficult to write a story from an omniscient viewpoint. It's easier to make the story believable for the writer to pick one character to show the story unfolding. By picking one character to tell the story, there's more of a chance that the reader will not only bond with the character but also will remember the story. Rather than writing a story from the first or second person, most stories are written from the third person. When writing a story from the third person, "he or she," the writer has more flexibility to scan the scenery to write about other things that he wants the reader to see, feel, and/or to know. Instead of just remaining in the main character's head as he'd have to do when writing a story from first person, "I or me," writing from the third person gives the writer more flexibility to show the story. Second person writing, "you," has historically been used for detective fiction, dime novels of old. Not many writers write from the second person anymore. Most short stories and novels are told from the third person. * * * * * Maureen dropped to her knees to take her son's cock in her hand while staring up at him with her big, blue eyes. "Tell me what you want Johnny," she said fondling the head of his stiff prick with her fingertips. "Do you want Mommy to suck you?" She slowly stroked him while staring up at him and only looking away to stare at his penis. "Yes," he said. "Tell me. Say the words," she said teasing his cock with her fingertips. "I want you to suck my cock Mom. Suck my prick Mom," he said with more sexual excitement than he's ever experienced before. How to Get You to Read My Story, #3 "Would you like to cum in Mommy's mouth?" She flicked out her tongue to lick his penis while watching for his reaction to her licking her son's cock. "Yes," he said. "Tell me," she said. "Say the words." "I want to cum in your mouth Mother. I need to cum in your mouth," he said getting even more sexually excited with the anticipation of receiving a blowjob from his mother where he cums in her mouth. "And then later, would you like to stick your big, stiff prick in Mommy's warm, wet pussy? Would you like to make love to Mommy, Johnny, before fucking Mommy, really fucking Mommy?" "Oh God yes, Maureen. After you suck my cock, after I cum in your mouth and after you swallow my cum, I'd love to make love to you. I'd really want to fuck you Mother. I really want to pound your pussy Mom." To be continued...