All About Me…

I’m terrible at these. You’ll soon come to realize I’m just your average, everyday, pervert. But until that realization hits, I will try to convince you that I know how to write.

From the beginning…

I used to hate writing, didn’t think I was any good at it. It was tedious and it usually involved a report or some other mundane school activity. Not for me. I was much more into reading! Of which, I did a lot of, especially the things I probably shouldn’t have had access to… EroticMindControlStoryArchive anyone? And other more taboo establishments… Don’t even get me going grrl… Those sorts of places were my bread and butter at 2am in the dead of night.\

Middle Years…

I went back to re-read some of those older stories, wanting to relive those tales so beloved in my memory. I remembered how they could so easily spark that dark desire deep within me and wanted to rekindle that dying fire. Oh how excited I was to dive back in to those fantasies! Only… What I found was that…
Ack >.<
They were terrible! I read this? I got off to this? I couldn’t believe it. These stories I’d grown up with and enjoyed through many a late night were actually kind of terrible. Perhaps a trapping of age. As we move into our middle years, time and experience dictates what we can perceive as “quality”. So I sought out new stories, better stories. Time and again, while most were not what I was hoping for, I was often pleasantly surprised by the new authors creating content for us deviants. There was always a new fetish to unlock, a position I hadn’t considered, a trope I didn’t even know I wanted… It lasted a good long while too, this run of debauchery, but all good things must come to an end…

I grew bored eventually. My specific and voracious appetites ended up being too much for the erotica writers of this world and I quickly consumed that which had already been produced to my liking. Sure I could still find more if I really dug deep, but it had become a tedious process at this point and I was tired of it. I sought release, not research.

In the Now…

And that brings us, more or less, to present times.
I’d years before tried my hand at writing, explored re-writing even, some of my classic favs that now sounded stilted and awkward in my mind. It was nothing very good though and I quickly abandoned those attempts. As my options started to run out and my fetishes narrowed to what I really liked best, I finally hit that expanse of empty sky, unstained with the strokes of imagination. It was then I realized, with a little practice, I could write exactly what I wanted to read…

I had found a passion that I hadn’t realized I’d possessed; a passion to tell my own stories.