User talk:Wolfskin75

From Create Your Own Story

Current revision as of 07:29, 11 September 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)

Well, once issue I do tend to have: Originality. I am not good at being original. One reason why when I write, I need to use my experience, other people's writing, things like that. If you can at least give me the highlights of what you want, it would be easier. Like, are they tripping all over each other? Do they start before they leave the car? Do they end up on the kitchen floor, the couch, the bedroom? Is it awkward, or smooth? Second thoughts, second guesses? Does one panic in the middle? Like does the main character stare at this younger woman's pussy, inches from her nose, and freak out, asking herself what she is doing? Or do we care, she just starts licking and enjoying? I just rewrote something for someone, trying to keep the main feel, but putting in an actual story, but I had to make changes as I went, realizing that some of my changes would not match later elements. Basically, even if you could give me a rough sketch, it would probably help.

Normally, when I write, I just write, and see where I go with it. When I plan though, I do it differently.

For example, you can check:
dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/09/slow-motion-love-outline.html
dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/09/slow-motion-love-starting-details.html
dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/09/slow-motion-love-tying-it-together.html
dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/09/slow-motion-love-refinement.html
dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/09/slow-motion-love-final-polished-story.html

That is something that I planned from beginning to end. If you can give me the outline, I can figure out how to fill in the details. Or just notes helping guide, or whatever. I am better at improving than writing from scratch. lol, fortunately, I have had female lovers before, so I have experience to pull from, but I want to make sure it matches your intentions. --Dirty Me 03:33, 11 July 2017 (UTC)

No worries, I haven't been ignoring you. I read through what you mentioned and will try to think of something. Just been very busy with my son. My in-laws complained he is behind in his education (They own a kindergarten, and we aren't sending him to school yet. He is only 3...), so I have been trying to do something to start educating him. Words, letters, numbers, etc. So haven't really had time lately to write right now. Hopefully I can give you something next week. (This weekend I will be busy with my son and husband while my son is awake, and trying to fuck my husband's brains out while our son isn't awake xD, and, well, I don't really come on here during the weekend anyways. But you know, the naughty naughty. Wish I had someone to send my son to and a four poster bed. Not sure though if I would tie him up, or have him tie me up xD) Anyways, not sure if you wanted that image of me, naked and sweaty, either being ridden or riding someone=P --Dirty Me 05:25, 14 July 2017 (UTC)

Sorry, I don't have much time, but I will see what I can write for you in a few minutes:

Well, as mentioned before, my email is dirtylittlemestorytime@gmail.com. I do check it, I just don't really tend to do alot of email conversations. --Dirty Me 01:27, 19 July 2017 (UTC)

Sorry, I don't really use discord. For me, this is where I can be naughty and kinky and confess to stuff that I would not confess to in other areas of my life. Just because I am willing to walk around a park in the middle of the night naked doesn't mean I am willing to tell others that I am doing so xD It is a thrill to do it, but honestly, I don't want that side of myself known by my neighbors. lol, well, one neighbor caught me once, outside, masturbating on my balcony. The next day when we passed in the parking garage, I could see him laughing. But, yeah, I have a husband, a son, and who knows where I will be someday. A powerful CEO of a company. A government representative. "Hey, I found pictures of our female president getting fucked in the middle of the road!" Of course, with my criminal record, not sure it would matter much. I got in trouble for drugs and for lewd and lascivious conduct. When you get caught having sex in on the sidewalk outside of a club, well, contrary to stories on here, police don't just go "Show us your tits and we will let you off"...

Anyways, not even sure what I am talking about right now. So tired...

Yeah, I wrote it in a view I didn't expect you to use. You will need to adapt it to your pov. No worries, you can change in whatever way you want, and, well, I still need to get to the sex part. Right now, they are still in foreplay. Sex will be another 3000-7000 words away xD --Dirty Me 07:56, 21 July 2017 (UTC)

Okay, separating it to another area. Now it will have its own topic. Please see the story stuff below for that.

As for organizing stuff, good luck xD

Sometimes, I do outlines. Other times, I do mind maps. Here, if you want, is one I created for you (Remember to add the https and : and // to it): embed.coggle.it/diagram/WXVlXY8ycAABmm_v/40f6fca3285b1c184f3f2af7a8bfdae807f383a307a3423089bd8e2993af54d6

But, I have severe ADHD. Sadly, my past drug use didn't help with it, so... I tend to just write things as the mood hits. Honestly, sometimes I just need to go through and reread stuff to remember what I was doing. But, some of my stories I make planning pages. Like in my masochist me story, which sadly, I haven't actually gotten to the masochist parts for, I have this page, which is probably the only "Masochist" part of it so far: Masochist me/Planning and editing page

For dirty me, I have: Dirty Me/Info

Sometimes, I have made notes in the discussion section of a page. Sometimes, I have hidden text, using either comments or white font. It was how I originally had the Loli camping trip. You can still find some of the white font hidden text in DirtyMeStoryTime Rants/Camping trip. To put comments in the page so they are not viewable, just use the html comments, like <!--Comment here-->. Now, you can see it because I wrapped in it the <nowiki>text</nowiki>, but normally you cannot see anything in that unless you hit edit to the page.

Again, no real tricks to organizing what you are doing, just figuring out a way to do it that is good for you. If you are talking about writing actual books, well, I have tried different software, and haven't found anything (For free anyways) that works okay for me. So, I just do it in whatever way fits my mood this time. Next time, maybe it all goes out the window. lol, I think a monkey may be more organized than me xD You don't even want to look in my purse. Not unless you are trying to find my panties=P And good luck finding them in there (Yes, if I am not wearing some, they will be in there, but who knows how much stuff you need to dig through to get to them...exhibitionist 101: Always bring your underwear, even if you do not plan to wear them, because you never know when you will be in a situation that you will want to find an excuse to slip into the restroom and slip them back on.)...I bet my dignity and mind are buried in the bottom...

Yeah, well, I am just not the type you want to check with on how to organize all your stuff. Probably like the last person you would want to ask that. But maybe some of the ways I mentioned above can help you out xD (And yes, I talk this much in real life, and probably just as bad at stream of thought as I am on here. I just don't talk this dirty in my everyday life xD) --Dirty Me 03:33, 24 July 2017 (UTC)

lol, so I guess you missed the updates to the story? You said you were trying to figure out how to organize your thoughts, so I gave you some things I use. You can see it above. And yeah, always hard to keep from making things sound the same. Honestly though, my "kinky" side has always been more towards risk. Risk of getting caught, risk of getting pregnant (One that is not really as strong now that I actually have a son), risk of getting humiliated. That is why I started writing masochist me, which sadly, I need to find the time and mood to get back to. I tend to write more about situations. While I try to make sure you can understand the characters decently, you may have probably have noticed I am not good at dialog. I tend to show the emotions through unspoken things, characters blushing, eyes opening wide, lips parting, ragged breath, these kinds of things. And, I prefer writing about the situation. Where are the characters, what is happening around them, why are they there. This is just my style.

I still don't know how I ended up here. Me and my boyfriend just started out kissing, our scooter waiting for the red light. Kissing led to heavier petting, and soon I found myself rubbing his crotch. The light turned green, but with his hand under my skirt, my hand over the rapidly forming bulge in his shorts, we didn't even notice. It was late at night, and not like there were any other cars around to honk at us to go. When he pulled my panties aside, pushed his fingers against my pussy, it no longer mattered what color the light was, or where we were. It didn't take long before I was able to pull his penis out through the bottom of his shorts leg. Sitting there, on a public road, me stroking his stiff, hard penis, him teasing my clit, eventually we found our awkward position while still on the scooter that he was able to angle his penis, line it up with my ready pussy, and shove. It was strange how now, once we started actually having sex, that the other cars came, the other scooters. People stopped, not able to pass us, no choice but to sit there, honking their horn while we had sex in front of them. Scooters could pass, and did, some people hooting as they saw what we were doing, others shouting obscenities. Still, we were lost in each other, there, on the street, my arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on my hips as he pulled me into him while pushing into me. I could feel him twitch, feel him climax. Even though I didn't, it was still thrilling enough that I was satisfied. Then I saw the cars behind us, the eyes watching us.

"Umm..." I said, "I think we better go..." He nodded, turned around, hit the throttle. I realized, once we got home, that we were in such a hurry, that his penis was still laying against his leg. I motioned down, and he grinned, then put his penis away.

See, a little situation. I do better at these, it is my style. Your style is, well, yours. You just need to find it. lol, I have even made an offer to readers of my blog, a real offer. Give me your story of how you groped me on the subway, and I would pick the best one, and arrange for us to do it in real life=P But, guess no one wants to travel all the way to a foreign country, and risk possible arrest, to let me try out a fantasy. And, believe it or not, since that offer was made, someone has groped me. Not to the "Japanese porn" extent. Not sitting there, grabbing me, shoving their fingers inside me, trying to make me stroke them, fucking me. But, just sitting there, hand pressed against my breasts. It was exciting, only because here was someone touching me inappropriately. Just more exciting to know it was happening, than what was actually happening. The back of some guys hand pressed against your breast isn't that stimulating by itself. But, as they say, the most sexual organ we have is our brain. Can always romanticize it, and imagine it going further. Too bad, I still want to see what it is like to have someone's hand shoved into my panties, stroking my pussy, right there in the middle of the subway... --Dirty Me 01:52, 26 July 2017 (UTC)

Eh, that is up to you. I know a couple others on this site by their real name from them emailing me. I won't go and say anything about you, but remember, you don't really know me. I know personally how trusting complete strangers can harm you in real life. That is why I have a different account for my "naughty" side. lol, my other email is my normal email, and trust me, nothing naughty going on in there. I know, from my descriptions of me as an exhibitionist, that it seems like I just flaunt it all. But, I am married, with a son, living in a foreign country I can be deported from, so that is far from the truth. I take risks (And yes, have been caught twice), but minimal risks. The park I sometimes walk around late at night, either partially or fully undressed, is never populated at night, and is away from the main part of the city. My balcony, the time I was caught masturbating on it by my neighbor, well, I don't do that when my neighbors are in their kitchen. He walked in late at night, and there I was. I check around to see if there are lights on. If I am particularly frisky, I do it in my kitchen. They can see me in my kitchen, if they are in theirs, but they cannot see me from below my breasts, so I can wear a shirt, and well, do whatever xD Of course, that is the other time I got caught (Different neighbors, since the old ones had moved out), walking around in my kitchen with no top on. Never been caught on naked or half naked walks in the park. As for my skirt blowing up, while I am not wearing panties, well, not sure that is actually illegal. I am not the only woman who has her skirt blow up and show off whatever she is wearing (Or not wearing) under. That is why I prefer to do "Oops". Things that seem like my exposure was an accident, no matter how much I made sure it would happen. Anyways, sure, feel free to invite me if you feel safe. --Dirty Me 08:03, 26 July 2017 (UTC)

Yep, I looked it over yesterday a little, but haven't had much time to do much, and, very tired, so my brain isn't in the most thinky mood. I haven't slept well in a long time, but it has been worse the last few months. Just life I guess. --Dirty Me 04:03, 1 August 2017 (UTC)

P.S. Strange, I can edit Lindie and Tera, but not Lisa. I can only look at Lisa mindmap. --Dirty Me 04:34, 1 August 2017 (UTC)

For Masochist me, honestly, I have not actually gotten to the story part. Right now it is, "How I became an escort and what I learned". When I write about something like this, I need to do alot of research to understand the environment I am writing in. I want my escort to sound like an escort. So, all the "classes and training" is more about highlighting what she went through to become an escort, and why she is like what she is like.

There will be basically two levels of story:

First starting - This will be the "I am an escort and act like every single other escort". So, it will basically be about going on dates with guys and sometimes having sex with them. Slowly, she will start letting her masochistic side show, and start finding out that she can charge extra and has certain clients that keep coming back to her, some of the clients will be ones no one else wants, because they are afraid of getting hurt. Obviously, the main character actually finds her body reacting the wrong way to pain. Most people flee from it, she actually gets the "positive" brain messages, whatever you call them, from it. So, she is attracted to it. It makes her feel bad. So slowly, she will start ending up with more clients that are sadists. She will also learn that there are limits that she needs to set. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to be deformed. But, since she receives pleasure from abuse, rather than the natural fight or flight reactions, she needs to set hard limits, as much to keep herself from going too far as to keep her clients from going to far. I guess it is the "coming of age" story for the masochistically, sex story, inclined. I can write all my darkest fantasies about a character who gets joy from them. No way could I actually be here. Spank me, sure, I enjoy it, to a point. Choke me, okay, but stop when I want it stopped. Edge play is thrilling, but I am just a normal, although somewhat broken, person. Hurt me and I run away. I don't say, "Please hit me again"...

Independent - At this point, she knows what her clients likes. She knows how to manage them. She knows some of the more fringe side of the escort (and sex, when the escort is willing) trade. She is her own mistress, and quite in control of herself. Here, she is the mistress. Period. She is sure, confident, and is willing to go toe to toe with others. Just because someone is masochistic doesn't mean they cannot be strong and sure of themselves. So, she will act as the escort manager, taking care of her escorts, but also as an escort still. When in that role, she is still very much in the masochistic role. She still wants you to take out your belt and punish you like the bad girl she is. But, the power is different. It isn't as much of a sub role as pushing clients to make sure they have their fantasy while also able to be herself. She will gladly tell a client fuck you, take your money somewhere else, while she didn't have that option before. In fact, the story I am working on in the planning page, the gang rape fantasy, is from this stage in her escort career. "Keep it realistic and make me feel your role, or else go "fantasy" yourself, because it will not keep me in the mood, and you will just get dropped". Her client lists are small, and she does more selective escorts.

Anyways, hopefully this helps explain more of my actual goal for Masochist me, since most of the story stuff and even notes are not that clear. --Dirty Me 06:35, 1 August 2017 (UTC)

Actually, you should be able to see this in the Tutorial. So, you just find the appropriate index. You know, when you go to the main page, then go to all the family friendly stories, or mature, or adult. Go to there. If it is adult stories, there is the alphabetical list. If your story is "Dog's Story", just go to D, then hit edit at the page. Just copy the table style that you see from the other stories. Please make sure it is listed alphabetically. I fixed many, and get frustrated when others don't follow the standard. It isn't really a rule, just annoys me. If your story begins with a non-useful word, like A, An, The, then alphabetize by the first important word. Like, "A Dog's Story" would go under "Dog's Story, A", so D first, then where the rest fits, not under A. Seen too many people try to put their story at the very top by doing things like that, and it is stupid and petty. Like the ++Infinity. So, because you put a + in front of it, it should be in front of every other story? Maybe there should be a different way to make them, but it seems too judgemental. Why not just name your story "AAA"? Then you can be at the top, even though no one will understand what your title means...

Formatting looks like this:

|-

|[[Story name]] || Page count || Notes like if it is public, private, etc

I made templates for the common notes, like private, public, do not edit. Just use these templates:

{{DNE}} = Do Not Edit. So if you prefer people to not even fix the grammar. Please note, if you are missing the stuff to comply with the rules, it will still be edited (Like if you are missing your category)

{{Private}} = This is your own private story. Others can read, and fix mistakes if needed, but should not be writing their own stuff.

{{Public}} = Anyone can edit, add, make their own paths, etc.

In the notes, you can also add more after declaring the sharing. Like "If you want to edit, please follow the guide" or "This story includes YOLO, LOL, and some poisoning". The notes can be whatever you want people to know before they click, but please keep them reasonable. Like, a few words, not a paragraph.

Once you finish adding to the correct index and save, you should see it as a red link. Just click that link and start adding your story in the next page. Just remember to add the category to every page you create, even notes pages. If you add a status bar, make sure you add it to all the pages. Again, you can see how to add status bars if you are interested in the Tutorial.

Personally, I recommend making everything following the first page tiered, which means adding it to a sub tree. For example, I have Dirty Me. Every page after is [[Dirty Me/Next page]] Then, if I have the option "Scream", which is likely to already have something there, it will be under [[Dirty Me/Scream]], and I doubt anyone has that page (These are called blue links, when you make a link that leads to a page someone already created). It will also put a little selection at the top that will let you go directly back to the page lower in the wiki tree, so the Dirty Me/Scream page will have a link back to Dirty Me. This makes it nice if you want to let the user go back to a sub tree, but stops at a certain point. For example, if I did a page "Dirty Me/Something/Something else/Something new/Something old/Something borrowed/Something Blue", after a while, I can't go back to every sub page. I think it goes three deep, so in this example, I could go back to Dirty Me, Something, and Something Else. The rest just will not show up.

For HTML to make your stuff look pretty, standard HTML works. However, since you do not have CSS, you will not be able to do CSS effects, only standard HTML. Like <b>Something</b> else will show you Something else. You can use html or wiki markup (When you hit the B button at the top of the editor, you will get '''Insert non-formatted text here''' instead). However, CSS before or after effects will not work. Again, if you look at my Dirty Me first page, you will see how there are boxes around the story, then around the options. Or if you look at my user page, I use options as a grey bar with the option in the middle that spans across the entire screen and centers the option. This is a template I put up for my options. However, if I want to make an HTML ying yang, it won't work, since the only way I know how to do this is using before and after effects. But, I have made a house and flower on someone's talk page here. There are also ways you can put pictures in your stories, but please note, this takes about 1 hour, so you will need to judge if it is worth it. You can link to 1 picture every 30 minutes, and since it gives you a captcha, you need to first try to link, then make sure your web browser stays in the edit page for 30 minutes, fill in the captcha, and save it. It is a pain in the neck. So, if you use it, I recommend you do it like I did and just put it in a template, then put the template on the page. Otherwise, every single change on that page will have the same issue, even if the change is not the picture. Anyways, good luck. --Dirty Me 05:17, 4 August 2017 (UTC)

I am no stranger to guns. My dad had a gun cabinet, and in the same room he had things to refill shotgun shells. Powder and pellets. Strange, paper things that would be wadded up. Load the cylinders, load the other parts, pull the handle, and an old, used shotgun shell became a ready to use shotgun shell. The gun cabinet itself contained rifles and pistols. Big, .30-06 rifles, scoped, that he used to bring down elk. Smaller .22 rifles for hunting deer. BB guns for getting rid of the stray dogs that roamed the streets. A shot from a BB gun would send even the most vicious cur yipping away.

Sometimes, the family would go. Me, my mom, my dad. We would set up paper targets at different intervals, pinned to trees or posted on makeshift targets. A day spent shooting guns and rifles. Sometimes, I wouldn't put the rifle against my shoulder tight enough. I left wearing bruises, light brown or dark blue. Sometimes I would find myself flat on my ass in the dirt, the kickback of the rifle literally knocking me down. Other times, it was uneventful. The most remembered times is when my dad had a custom made, cast iron target system made. Shoot the rifle, and if you hit the target, it will spin around. The first time it was brought out also happened to be the last time. My mom, while not as good of a shot as my dad, sent it spinning more than once, but the last time was when she sent it flying. Quickly mourned, the target was sent to the landfill. Such a short life it had.

In the room also rested the bows. I tended to prefer them to the guns. Less noisy. Less kicky. Less likely to leave you flat on your ass in the dirt. Not that I liked any of it, it was just what I grew up with.

But, it is strange when you go from holding the gun, pointing it at inanimate targets, to animate targets. On hunting trips, I would stay in camp with my mom, my aunt, my cousins. Not the kind of person to shoot a poor deer, leave me out of it. My cousins, as they got older, would join the men on the hunting trips. Although, they also didn't tend to shoot anything either, instead my uncle or my dad would bring down a deer or elk, and they would use the tags themselves. Hunting trips themselves were a normal part of my childhood, at least once a year. Yearly fishing trips too, but that was even more boring.

It is even stranger going from holding the gun, pointing it not at some animal, but at another person. A person who, moments before, was beating his fist at your front door, yelling at you. Of course, realizing I couldn't pull the trigger was the biggest problem. Maybe if I had, things would have been different. Then again, since the problems stem from further back than that, maybe not. Maybe it was just another list in a long list of tragedies I experienced when I was young.

The barrel of a gun pointed at you. You read in the books, or hear the descriptions in the movies, that the barrel looks huge. It isn't a different size, but just that you see that immediate, potential threat, and so focus on it so hard that everything else becomes background. You and a tube, facing each other. I didn't even know if it was loaded. I had grabbed it from where my dad kept it. The bully at the front door, yelling at me, beating on my door. I just wanted him to go away. To disappear.

I opened the door, stood back, told him to go away. He didn't. He lunged at me instead, prying the gun out of my hands. I should have pulled the trigger. Maybe. Maybe it would have been worse if I had. So tell me, is it worse, what happened to me, or what could have happened to him?

Once the gun was out of his hands, he used it to hit me in the head. Black flecks rolled across my vision, and seeing was hard. But what came next was harder. Someone with a gun, on top of me, pulling my clothes off, ripping them off. Forcing me down on the floor. The bully who taunted me mercilessly in school, shoving his dick inside me, no matter how much I screamed, or tried to get him off me, or cried. Of the other child doing something like that to someone else. We were only fifteen at the time.

When he was done, he rolled off, left me laying there, in my own house, on my own floor, bleeding and crying. He had shown me what happens when you flip someone off for insulting you in the playground. You get hit, and raped. They leave you lying on the floor like a pile of garbage. Maybe he knew he went too far. After that day, he didn't get physical. He didn't follow me home, hit me. Doesn't mean he stopped calling me awful names. Of course, I guess some of those names came true eventually. Slut. Whore. Maybe I am even stupid. Who knows. The tests show I am not, but after all the drugs I have done, who is to say if I am as smart as I used to be. Not sure if I am a bitch. Other names, names I can't even remember anymore. We were only in middle school at the time, so not like our vocabulary was that awe inspiring.

I know guns, and what they are used for. Sometimes, to just relax and unwind, shooting at little pieces of paper, ceramic disks, spinning metal targets. Sometimes for food, hunting birds with shotguns, many tiny little pellets piercing them, killing them, hunting deer with rifles, sometimes killing them quickly with a shot to the heart, a shot to the head, but more often then not putting a hole in them so they bleed until they cannot stand, until they fall, head swimming, until the hunter can find them and slice their throat open, if the hunter finds them before they bleed to death. Sometimes for protecting yourself, from bullies and criminals and other bad people. Sometimes for killing other people. Sometimes, to leave a young girl laying on the floor, bleeding and crying after you have raped her. I know guns well, well enough to know why I don't like them.

So, thoughts? Yes, this is based on a true story. This is when I was raped the first time. But, not writing it for that. I have already posted about my rape on my blog and in Dirty Me. I just mean, thoughts on how it was written? Just trying to give you a good story that makes you think and feel, empathize with the character. No worries, not trying to make a point. Just a story I have been thinking about in my head. My broken and damaged past. Although, I am thinking about using it, or something a little different, in my Masochist me story. Well, if I ever get to that point in Masochist me...Just thought you might like a well written short story. I know, in its current form, it is more of a tragedy than a light hearted read xD --Dirty Me 05:03, 9 August 2017 (UTC)

No worries, I don't just poof like that. I do tend to poof from the site time to time though. Part of being a brain damaged (too many drugs...) woman with ADHD. I follow my mood, and sometimes my moods have nothing to do with this website. --Dirty Me 02:08, 14 August 2017 (UTC)

I have been fine. Hot and horny. Hot, because it is summer, and humid, and too hot...horny because my husband has had no free time since his company reorged, so it has been a while since we were able to get naughty... --Dirty Me 01:23, 21 August 2017 (UTC)

Yeah, I think everyone has those issues. lol, most guys tend to think "But you are a girl, you can have sex any time you want", which is far from the truth. And worse: having the sex we want. Even if we can "get laid", that doesn't mean that it is something that actually feels...satisfactory. Like, I love my husband. He is wonderful. He is great. He is perfect. Until we hit the bed. He is a good boy, and does not have a kinky bone in his body. That leaves me with that itch that never quite gets scratched. I like getting kinky and dirty. He...likes missionary style, no oral, no kink. I have gotten him to get out of his comfort zone time to time, but not often, and not far. Doggy style, cowgirl, those are the "beyond comfort zone". One reason I started writing my erotic experiences, fantasies, and then, just stories.

Sorry, I never finished my gangbang story. One time, I arranged to have sex with 7 guys. It was...underwhelming. Not as exciting as you think. But, you might like my public use story:

dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/08/public-use.html

dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/08/public-use-round-two.html

dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/08/public-use-really-getting-started-now.html

dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2013/08/public-use-finale.html

Maybe it can help with the itch a little? Yes, I really did this. One thing about having no self esteem and an overactive imagination. "That seems interesting, lets try it". lol, it was very...interesting. And exciting. Honestly, I wish I could do it again.

As for writing, well, I remember reading an authors writing tips before. He stated: Just write. Doesn't matter what. Good, bad, crap, treasure. Just write. Writers have written more garbage than anyone else. If you do not feel like sharing, don't share, but just write. Anyways, this is what many of my "I have an idea, lets try" experiments on this site is, and why many do not go very far, sadly. Also why I sometimes write strange little stories on pages of whomever I am talking to at the time (Like some of those stories I have written on your talk page). So, get to writing xD Can't be much worse than some of the other stuff I have seen on this site xD --Dirty Me 03:09, 23 August 2017 (UTC)

Hmm, for some reason, this weekend, I was thinking about clubs, and dancing, and pulses pounding, sweat dripping off hot bodies, writhing, thrusting, rubbing against each other. I thought about raving. Having lived in the desert, not that far from where burning man takes place every year, having dropped x and raved myself, having fucked while blissed out, it made me start imaging the dance floor, but the dances were more than just dancing.

I actually have written about a girls decent from recreational drug to to full on crack whore. Some experience, some imagining. I have been there myself, just not in all the ways I have written about in that story.

The whole fucking at the rave part I wrote is here, if you want to read it: dirtylittlemestories.blogspot.com/2015/12/party-girl-becoming-girl-5-sex-fantasy.html

Someday, I should really finish a whole story. Brotherly love, The party girl, something... --Dirty Me 03:31, 28 August 2017 (UTC)

I am fine. Sick though. *cough cough*. Been sick for a week now. Bleck. So is my son, but he got me sick first... --Dirty Me 07:29, 11 September 2017 (UTC)

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