Ignore that voice

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[What if the characters in a story realized they were in a story? This is a metafiction story in which the characters decide to stop listening to the writer.]

Ed closed the door to his room behind him and pulled Bella into his arms. She gasped as if a shock of electricity had passed through her. He held her by her shoulders and pulled her closer to his chest, “I can no longer spend a day without seeing you…” he whispered in her ears. Bella looked at his intense brown eyes and felt herself go weak in her knees, “I know what you mean, Ed…” she pouted her lips offering herself to him.

He pulled her closer to himself and kissed her with the passion of a wild animal in heat. They kissed as if they were thirsty and their lips had the only water in the world.

Their clothes flew all over the room as Ed moved Bella closer to his bed.

When she was down to her lingerie, Ed stared at Bella like a leopard stalking his prey. He ran his hands over her supple body, picked her up with one hand and threw her on his bed. With his other hand, Ed ripped off his own t-shirt to reveal his chiselled body. “Oh, Ed…my body is literally aching with desire for you…” Bella licked her lips.

Ed dropped his pants, Bella gulped hard, “take me, Ed…Oh great, we are doing missionary again.”

“I want you so bad Bella…” Ed said, “wait…what did you say?” Ed has stopped and is now looking at Bella. Continue reading

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Bad erotica…

Abhay paces the small one room kitchen apartment, it wasn’t a lot of pacing; four steps back and forth made up for his tiny dwelling. But then again what is a struggling writer, if not living in a space cramped with a chair, a bed, a foldable writing table, a solar powered lamp, a bowl full of cigarette butts and five day old pizza.

Abhay’s predicament wouldn’t be something new for you, but for him it was a dilemma that put him in precarious situation. You see, the next chapter in Abhay’s highly ambitious debut novel about four friends who had just passed out of IIM – B; was that one of those friends was finally getting lucky. And Abhay had to describe him getting lucky.

Now this shouldn’t be a problem to many writers, or maybe it would be. I would never know. But Abhay is still a virgin, which means, he has never gotten lucky. And the poor little peasant has no idea how to, either.

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