User talk:Wolfskin75

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Revision as of 08:11, 7 July 2017

Please make sure to include the title of the story as a category on each page you post. If you don't know how to add categories, please review the Tutorial, especially Basic page format.--Platypus 19:13, 29 June 2017 (UTC)

DirtyMe's talk

What kind of stories are you planning to make? I like fun stories, but afraid I write more adult stories than other kinds, and not that great at it. --Dirty Me 01:42, 26 June 2017 (UTC)

I hope to make Adult stories. I am trying to learn how this thing works. :)

lol, well, first, you should leave messages for others on their discussion page, or else they will not get the "You have a new message" notice.

If you want, you can look through some of my stories, see what you think, and see if you have any ideas what you would like to make. --Dirty Me 07:48, 27 June 2017 (UTC)

Yep, the message was left properly. I can give you my email, dirtylittlemestorytime@gmail.com, but I don't really check that email much. No worries, very few people on here monitor the recent changes, so you don't need to worry about spoiling anything. --Dirty Me 01:32, 28 June 2017 (UTC)

Honestly, I am just not into the loli type of story. Most of my stories are either based on my real life experiences or fantasies. For example, Dirty Me includes many of my real life experiences. And while I was underage for them, I don't really tie age into it. The age isn't the important part, which is different with Loli stories. And while I am writing Masochist me, I am not really experienced in the BDSM scene. I have joined in some BDSM activities, but honestly, need to actually research a lot to write authentic sounding BDSM stories. Masochist me is more for me to let my imagination run wild, not things I have actually done, the way I feel, or things I will probably ever get to try. More of an outlet. If you are thinking of my Loli character in my rants stories, well, outside of the camping one, that is written as a satire to some of the stories others post here. I don't hate them or like them really, I just found inspirations in some of them to write my own, in something approaching a more either realistic or hyperbolic manner. Basically, I read story where you have some girl who is young, but for some magical reason really enjoys sex. It makes no sense to me. So I wrote them in a way that yes, people can read them, not looking too deeply, as some naughty story, or people could read them as the satire I am making them, thinking about how silly it is that some girl will just suddenly start having sex for no apparent reason. "I saw my brothers cock, it was so big, and even though I have not hit puberty yet, I found myself all horny and having sex with him." See, it makes no sense. I mean, the path that Loli has sex with her brother, it isn't because "OMG, hard cock, makes me wet, fuck it fuck it fuck it!", but because she obviously interrupted something she didn't understand, she saw he was not comfortable, and she merely mimicked what he was watching.

But, that doesn't mean that I hate my stories, or those that write them. The Loli camping story was less of a satire, and more, me imagining myself there, being her. Of not feeling the guilt of sex, because I do not know what it is and do not know I am doing anything wrong. I do not worry about the consequences. I am helping people, and enjoying the helping. For me, sex has always been something dirty and something that others did to you, not something you enjoy. While Loli is having it done to her, she doesn't realize that, and just thinks she is being great, awesome, and helpful, and getting a sense of pleasure herself. I would love to just be able to do that (Of course, without the consequences Loli faces at the end). To just enjoy it without the guilt hangup, without the emotional baggage that comes with sex.

I have a rather...bad past related to sex. Again, you can read some of the Dirty Me stuff and see some of my real experience in them. How I lost my virginity, being raped, letting myself be used because my self esteem was so low I honestly didn't care, and at least I got attention from it. I mean, I am not saying I regret, or that I don't enjoy sex now, or whatever. I am just saying that I am damaged goods, and lived through some pretty bad stuff. It has left me scarred and not completely whole. That it was my own fault, for the drugs, for the choices, for the general "whatever, just do what you want, I don't care" attitude I grew up with, doesn't change the fact that I am...the way I am because of all these things.

Anyways, not sure how I can help. Maybe I can give ideas or check over the writing or something, but no guarantees I will be the right person for this. Sorry, you may need to let me know specifically what you need. --Dirty Me 07:03, 29 June 2017 (UTC)

Sorry if I am giving the wrong impression. I do not have an issue with loli, and in fact have done online RPs of daddy/daughter. I used to belong to a website that is shut down, and would message back and forth with people who wanted to have those types of fantasies. So, I can try to help you, but just saying, I am probably not the type to write the story, so not sure how much I could help you. Sadly, most people wanted to RP the daddy taking advantage of his daughter, which sometimes creeped me out. I am not judging. As long as they are not exploiting real children, then I don't care. To me, it always seemed better that they could fantasize, let off steam that way, than to actually do it. Sort of like how I fantasize about my sex life, but because I am married, that is all I do. I don't do the whole casual sex thing anymore. Not saying you are like this. Basically, it seems like it isn't the age aspect of loli content you are attracted to, as much as the innocence. lol, that is the character I created in Loli. Remember, she is 18, but has the innocence and joy of youth. And, for those who want to imagine, the body of someone younger.

Anyways, not rejecting helping you, or saying "Sorry, not my thing, go away", just saying I am not sure I can really contribute. Feel free to bounce ideas off me if you want. I can let you know my thoughts on them. Let me know if you need to edit something, or if you want to understand how a woman thinks about something. Just, don't expect me to be a full collaborator. If I see ideas when I read, I can let you know though. For me, the important thing is, "Can I close my eyes and imagine myself as the character". If I can do that, I can help with it. And, sadly, there are many stories on this site that are super bad, and honestly, degrading, but because I can imagine myself in the situation, because I can imagine the hands touching, the lips meeting, the soft feel of skin against skin, bodies heating up as they start sweating, as they start exploring, as they start merging, as his tongue meets her clit, and her mouth explores his penis, until the tension builds, until the taste changes in her mouth, as she feels him release, cumming, as she clamps her legs around her face, feeling the pressure burst like a blissful, intoxicating bubble bursting, as they revel in the afterglow before she feels him settle between her legs, penis hard again, pushing against her, well, some of these bad stories I can still get into because I find some attraction to myself being there.

So, basically, just let me know what it is you need and I will help as I can. --Dirty Me 03:43, 30 June 2017 (UTC)

No, no format. Just make sure you include your category on every page you create. That is what Platypus was warning you about. I just make my own formatting. If you check out my various stories, you will see different ones have different formats. I like to play around with them sometimes, so some are more involved than others. To see how I do it, just click the edit on a page you like the looks of, then cancel (unless you are changing or fixing) once you know what you want. For example, the grey boxes on the front page and in some of my stories was created by me. I have also done HTML pictures, included other pictures from other sites (Which is harder than you think, because of the way the site messes with linking), and some advanced formatting (Like in my story Texting, which sadly I set up then didn't do much with). lol, in fact, the one path there was a dirty fantasy chat I had with someone on another website, complete with his responses >.> Texting/Phone sex/The game Anyways, feel free to experiment with formatting. Just remember, Always include the category on every page you make, otherwise, you could be banned from posting on the site. --Dirty Me 12:19, 1 July 2017 (UTC)

Here you go, do with it whatever you want:

She led me out to the dance floor, pulling my hand, willing me to come with her. She stopped, turning, her body slowly swaying as I settled next to her. The beat hit low, vibrations of sound felt more than heard, and she thrust her hips. We locked eyes, and I watched her body move, the flashing lights strobing, causing her to move in somewhat jerky, robotic patterns, for fragments of an instant ceasing to exist, before being there again, in front of my eyes.

I matched her rhythm, our bodies moving in point and counterpoint, her leaning back as I leaned in, me leaning back as she leaned in. A new song took over, the tempo changing, yet still fast, furious. We merged together, bodies pressed tightly, lips inches from meeting, thoughts lingering, before stepping back, dancing for each other, with each other, against each other.

Then, melding again. Sweat, already dripping down my back, my face, exploded from me as our bodies pressed together, heating up even more. Heat not just from the pure, physical heat from a person, but heat of more. The beat, the smell of cigarettes, of alcohol, of other, more illicit things, of bodies writhing, of pure humanity, perfumed by scents sometimes, but underlying it all, of pure human inhibition, created a heat that was deep, primal, intoxicating. The heat of lust. The heat of lips against lips, of skin against skin.

Her lips parted slightly, whether in anticipation or to speak, I was not sure. A slight glint in her eye suggested an invitation, but that could have just been the strobing lights. She laughed, and we continued dancing.

Her body moved with grace, and with raw sexuality. The mixture was strange, but seemed right. This time, her intention was clear as she again parted her lips, bringing them so close that I could feel her breath, smell the drinks she had had, almost taste it. Then, our lips met, and all thought dissolved in a blur.

--Dirty Me 08:03, 4 July 2017 (UTC)

lol, that is why I wrote it and said do whatever you want with it.

"Dancing," she said, "Is like sex, only standing up with clothes on."

I knew exactly what she meant. Grinding against each other, so close you could feel the warmth, the heat, from your dance partner's body, sometimes was hard to tell from sex. Hip thrusts, without clothes, and with a slight bit of effort, could easily be penetration. That couple, the guy grinding on his partner's leg, almost like a dog in heat, humping it's owners leg. That couple, the guy grabbing his partner's ass constantly. The girl with an expression that she was enduring it, rather than enjoying it. My eyes crossed another couple, who were so close you could not stick a finger between them. I understood where the expression "Eating each other's face" came from. At least PDA didn't bother me. Especially once I figured out his hand was up her skirt. Looks like he was taking it beyond the "like" sex.

There is another small snip you can use for whatever if you like. A mood setting snip.

Well, I am not straight, I am bi. In fact, I ended up where I am because of a friend in high school, and we were more than friends. Anyways, we didn't stay together as lovers for long, but we are still friends. She brought me to see her home country, and I stayed. I also happen to be married to her brother now (We were lovers back in the US, and it ended in the US, before I ever met her brother) xD

Of course, her brother doesn't know that me and his sister used to be lovers, and we will never tell him. It just wouldn't go well.

As for the second snippet, not sure I like it that much. I think comparing sex to dancing would involve more the physical exertion, the closeness of the couple, the sweat, the attraction, shoving against each other.

They went from the dance floor to the alley. The moves were more intimate, but not that much different. For her, pulling down her panties, so he could gain access to her pussy, ready, willing, wanting, under her skirt, him pulling his penis out of his trousers, full clothed outside of the pink, pointy parts right in the middle of his pants.

The music, cars from the street at the end of the alley. Late night sirens from police cars and ambulances, occasional shouts from people on the sidewalks. The music, the grunt of effort coming from him, the moans emanating from her. There was even the faintest music from the club, all the dancers separated only by the single door that lead to the alley. The moves, not that much different. Their bodies moving in time with each other and the music. The rhythm, from that primal, ancient need to mate. Even this dance was done standing up. Her legs parted, one lifted slightly, up against the wall. Him between them, thrusts, not that much different from the dance floor, pushing into her. Take away the bared penis, the wet pussy, and it would not be much different from the way men would thrust at their partners on the floor. Their bodies, bouncing together, then springing apart. Their skin, just as sweaty in this dance as it was in the heat of the floor. Their lips locked, their eyes staring into the other's. Dancing, trying to attract the partner with the movement of the eyes, the movement of the body. Here, the attraction was done, but the eyes still watched, the bodies still moved. A dance, a few minutes of vigorous movement, keeping time to the rhythm of the music and each other. Here, a few minutes of vigorous movement, keeping time to the rhythm of the music, music of the grunts and moans, and the rhythm of each other. Both ending eventually, leaving the dancers feeling a sense of enjoyed exhaustion.

No, dancing isn't much different than sex after all. Except for the consequences.

There, think I like this snippet better. --Dirty Me 02:06, 6 July 2017 (UTC)

Sorry, I can't tell you any magical secret for that. I can only tell you how I write. Basically, normally I write for me. When I write, I close my eyes and imagine myself there. Sometimes, I act it out. If you read my The Exhibitionist, that story is basically, the reader provides what I do, then I imagine it, and sometimes act it out. I write it as I do that, or after I do something. Basically, I try to put myself in the place. In that example, you will see alot of twists in the story towards the end. That is because I will write about it. I close my eyes, then describe what I see. How I feel. I have even gone out and done some stuff. Or I base them off of things I have done in the past. So, I write them from experience. For example, there is a park near my house. It is a wild park, so other than some trails, it is just the plants growing naturally. I have went out walking before, and I have stripped in the park. I have walked around the trails naked, or topless, or whatever it is I want to feel at the time. Lets face it, I wrote that story because I am an exhibitionist. I have stopped in the middle of a train that has a flat spot before a hill on one side, and a drop on the other. I have sat in the dirt, my back laying against the hill, and started masturbating. My closed eyes saw me, not masturbating, but stumbling across a group of guys as I walked around the park naked. The guys, taking me, fucking me, right there, my ass pressed into the dirt, my legs spread wide as they lined up and took me. Part of it was reality, I was there, and while not naked, exposed. I was being penetrated, but by myself. I have had sex with multiple guys at the same time, so I know how it feels. I blended them together. For another example, I ride a scooter. Sometimes, when I am feeling horny, I will wear something that "Oops"es. An oops is when I accidentally expose myself in some way. My skirt blowing up in the wind. My top shifting in a way that shows off the left breast. I have even had real oops moments that I did not intentionally do, like hanging up clothes on my balcony, in shorts that were too big for me, and them falling down.

Not that I go out and do the stuff I write about all the time, or even most of the time. Just, time to time. Other times, I will sit down in front of the computer, pause my writing, and close my eyes, imagine everything. I will strip, spread my legs, and imagine someone between them. How does he move? What is his expression? What is he doing? How do I move? I will act out my own actions, and imagine how it feels with his actions. I will thrust my hips, pushing into my imaginary lover. I will part my lips, see how I would sound. I will break out my vibrator or dildo or fingers, whatever I have to make me imagine the scene, to feel it. The hard plastic of the vibrator becomes the penis of the guy. Pinch my nipples like he would in my story. Lay down on my bed, spank my ass, with my hands, with a belt, with a coat hanger, to see how it feels, see how it makes me feel. Trust me, I am having sex while I figure out how to write my sex scenes, just, not with someone there (Well, some of what I have written was about real sex, me writing it after I have had sex with my husband).

Also, since I have done many things, I have real experience to write from. Sometimes, I try to remember them. Trust me, that left me an emotional wreck when I wrote the rape scene in Dirty me, because it was real. It was a description of the first time I was raped. Imagining it left me crying and unable to sleep. But, it also helped get it out there, and helped make it just a little better. See, women aren't as visually oriented as guys. Instead, we prefer to imagine it, rather than seeing it. We control it. Our partner always makes us happy, making sure we climax, while a real partner may not. Our partner always moves just right, and says the right words, and knows exactly what we want. We read the words, and then imagine him exactly as we want. Ever notice how my stories do not discuss how big a guys penis is, how big a woman's breasts are? Because, I imagine them the size I want, and you imagine them the size you want. I want a penis that is the right length without hitting my cervix. Someone else wants a penis that is 6 inches around and 14 inches long. I imagine myself in the scene, so my breasts are, well, my breasts. Someone else wants "DD cups" (which btw, is sort of a useless measurement. There is more to a woman's physical breast size than her cup size). One of my many complaints about the stories on here. Why are you ruining my enjoyment of the story by putting in your own "perfection"? You say "Her saunter caused her breasts to sway, the top straining to hold them, and as she walked away, her ass, so full and round, swayed even more". Okay, you will put x size in when you read it, I will put y size. Does it matter that they are completely different? Not to the readers enjoyment. You see swaying breasts and straining tops, and think "DD!". I see them, and again, I see me, my "C", and a shirt that is too tight, barely containing them. But, when I see "DD" instead of something that lets me put in my own size, I look down at my breasts, and I either think "Yeah, you wouldn't be so DD happy if you saw these" if I am feeling good about myself, or I say "What is wrong with mine...", which makes me feel bad for not having the correct sized breasts. So, as you see, I write from my experience.

That is also why I have drug scenes, scenes of pain and sorrow, and scenes of suicide and death. I was high, well, pretty much every day, from the time I was 15 until I was arrested at 18. I did things, including things like the public use (Being blindfolded and used sexually by anonymous people), experimenting with glory holes, fucking my cousins (Lost my virginity to my cousin in fact), even trying prostitution for 1 short day. I have slept with guys for money, slept with guys for drugs, slept with guys for excitement, or to try something that sounded like it would be exciting, or slept with guys because I honestly didn't give a damn about myself. This is why I tend to write the sex scenes more than anything else. True, I have lots of experience with what it is like to be high. But, that is rather hard to describe. How do you talk about never having visuals on LSD? But, when I would lay down on my bed, the room looked bigger, and I felt different. How would you describe a bad trip, and you were in your house, scared shitless, that you were really somewhere else, dying. And if you didn't get back there, you would die. But, at the same time, there is a cop outside the house (There wasn't, but I thought there was), and the instant you left, he would arrest you. How would you describe running all the way to your house prior to this, because there was cop lights following you (It was the street lights lighting up the street)? As for your anger and frustration. I have tried writing about it. But, when I read it, I feel like it sounds like I am whiny and complaining. How do you get it across so it doesn't sounds like that? So, that leaves me with sex. Lots of experiences to draw from, and most of the people like reading it here. And, I like rereading it and breaking out my sex toys too=P

Anyways, hopefully this all gives you some idea of me and how I write. Not sure if it is helpful though. I think everyone just needs to find their own way. --Dirty Me 05:57, 6 July 2017 (UTC)

lol, you are no fun, you know that? You know, you are allowed to tell me how turned on you are by the things I am writing, or saying, or whatever, and how you masturbate to the thoughts of me sitting there, in that park, ass in the dirt, masturbating from the idea of getting gang banged by a bunch of strange guys I ran into there=P No worries, I am an attention whore that doesn't mind being told that I turn someone on. I will leave it at that xD --Dirty Me 09:56, 6 July 2017 (UTC)

I made a few changes on your recent page. Nothing big. One thing I have found, progressive tense tends to do better during moments of action. Of course, I don't write completely conventionally.

For example, here is something that reading your page inspired me to write. (See, reading something sometimes makes my mind wander, and think about other things, which cause me to have ideas on what to write):

I pulled up to the red light. After a wild night of drinking and dancing, kissing, being kissed, even being fondled once, I was horny. I knew I shouldn't be driving. Not that I was so drunk I couldn't drive straight, just that...well, I shouldn't be driving. My inhibitions had been left somewhere on the dance floor.

A truck pulled next to me. The driver, big and burly. Unshaven beard making him look like some wild biker. I wasn't sure why, but I found myself pulling up my dress, pulling it over my head, waiting for the light to turn green. Ninety long seconds.

63 seconds. The dress was now around my waist. I had already lost my panties somewhere back in the restroom of the club. The soft light coming off the street lamps illuminated the actions, but left the space between my legs dark. At least to me. Maybe he could see from his point of view. He was definitely watching me now. The red light coming through the window caused color to be slightly off.

41 seconds. My breasts popped into view. I was glad I hadn't worn a bra. I would hate to fumble that off, as my fingers did not seem to respond as well as normal.

38 seconds. My dress came off completely. He stared at me quite openly. I hit the passenger side window control, rolling it down. I threw my dress out the window just as the light turned green.

I pushed the gas, driving away, getting as far away as an entire block. Another red light.

The truck slowly caught up, stopping again beside me. He gave me a look like, "Yeah, I am right here, what are you going to do about it?"

I answered his unasked question.

Myself. I was going to do myself.

I grasped my breast in one hand, and shoved my fingers between my legs with the other. I squeezed as I worked my fingers along my pussy lips. I stared into his eyes and moaned as loud as I could. He watched.

The moan was fake, but soon, real moans started to take its place.

Then, the next light turned green. I took my hands away from my exposure, and pressed the gas pedal.

Again, he lumbered up slowly, stopping beside me. I put the car in park, and stood up as best I could. My car had the gear, like a stick, coming from the middle, between the seats. Not sure why I was doing this, I shifted around until I was able to get positioned above it, the little button used to change gears pressing against my pussy. I worked my fingers inside, rubbing the fluid around my pussy lips and the gear shifter, until it was wet enough for me to lower myself down on it.

It didn't take long for it to go too deep. I had to be careful.

I lifted my hips up, then worked it down again. Soon, it was glistening, and I was able to move faster, just not deeper. I soon developed a steady rhythm, light completely ignored. We sat there, green light shining on us, soft lamps illuminating us. He watched as I rode my car.

The rhythm, while steady, was still not enough. I found a midpoint, the shifter inside me, my legs able to hold me without being too uncomfortable. With something filling me, I started massaging the outside. Rubbing the shifter, running my fingers along until they came in contact with my spread pussy lips. I winked at him as I finally came to my clit. Rubbing it slowly, feeling the tingles build, working my way faster and faster. I became lost as I stimulated my clit, lost in the moment of pure, wanton sexual abandon. I did not even notice that more lights came behind me.

I rubbed faster, then faster. The light in front of us turned green, and the truck pulled away. My mind, caught in the moment, only half registered that my watcher had left. I was too close to care. I felt it coming, building, almost ready.

A bright, white light hit me. A bliss of pleasure hit me. I screamed out release as my new watcher got to my car window. I stopped, enjoying the bliss, as I heard, "Miss, I am afraid you are going to have to step out of the car."

The police officer that caught me, fucking my car, did seem to find plenty of amusement in it. I could see him biting back laughter. Too bad I no longer did.

--Dirty Me 08:11, 7 July 2017 (UTC)