Viv Thomas Most Subscribed - I Didn't Know That!: Top 10 Viv Thomas The Art Of Sex Of The Decade

Hello, I was hoping Id be able to get a fellow writers critique on this story of mine. Its an old one, but I recently revised it throughly. Absolutely all feedback and constructive criticism will be appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to view my post. B R E A K I N G T H E D O L D R U M S A Serialized Erotic Story, in Several Volumes — Summary: A young man whos experiencing a doldrum in his life meets an older woman, whos sense of spontaneity and whimsy allows him to shake of his Winter blues. Though it is written from a male perspective, this story is intended for female audiences that are 25+. Authors Intentions: What follows here is a bit of an indulgence on my behalf. Feel free to skip down to the first chapter if you arent interested in the craft of writing or the nature of erotic fiction. Erotic fiction is a bit of a paradox. Hear me out… If ever there was a medium un-fit to convey the raw, carnal expression that is sexuality, literary fiction would be it. Photography, film, even music; each are more capable of capturing the ecstasy of sex in a visceral way. Much more than the written word is. There’s simply no perfect sequence of well-chosen words that could be as arousing as feeling those same words whispered into your ear. With that in mind, I’d like to state my intentions with this serialized story; or, why even bother, if that’s really the case. Well, the written word is far better equipped to take us inside the mind of a character, to literally see their thoughts. So with this serialized erotic story, I intend to create a strong sense of tone and theme (enough literary things to chew on after reading), compelling characters that are both specific and identifiable, and to make you feel a little less lonely on a Winter night (or a Summer night, I suppose; when-ever you find me, dear reader). This is going to be more about anticipation than the money-shot, which is why the serialized format works especially well for a story of this nature. It keeps you waiting for the next volume, you see… And I do hope you come back for more and please, please leave your feed-back below. Any spelling or format corrections is greatly appreciated. Enjoy! — VOLUME ONE: SPREADING WARMTH — CHAPTER ONE: THAT TIME OF THE YEAR I buried my shivering hands deep in the pockets off my jeans, then clenched them into two tingling fists and looked up at the night sky, wishing the time would pass faster. In my small town, it gets dark early during Winter. Around five o’clock, usually. Right now, my watch told me it was six o’clock, which meant the mountains on the horizon were already too dark to distinguish from the black sky behind them. The stars were faint, too, barely visible, as if they were on dimmer-switches. I watched for my taxi, but it was hard to see far down the street. it was lit with lamp-posts that looked like floating orbs in the thick snow-fall. That, combined with the pleasantly muffled sound of Christmas carollers in the distance, should have been a recipe for sheer Holiday wonder; but I felt anything but that, to be honest. I felt cold. Alone. What am I even doing out here?, I asked myself, kicking at the fresh snow with my heavy boots. My numb fingers felt the corner of my pack of smokes and I thought fleetingly about having a cigarette while I waited, but it wouldn’t be worth it to expose my hands to the chill any longer than absolutely necessary. Then, I reconsidered: I’d be cold either way, but at least the time will pass quicker. CHAPTER TWO: TAXI TO NOWHERE A number of taxis passed me, but none of them pulled up beside the curb when I raised my hand to signal for them. As my cigarette burned down to the filter, I tried to think of somewhere I wanted to go… A bar, maybe? The movies? A cafe? Each idea seemed viv thomas free empty and hollowed-out of its fun. Fuck it, I thought. I’ll tell the taxi-driver to take me downtown, or at least in that direction, then I’ll figure it out from there. I took a long drag from my cigarette, then tossed it down into the snow, where it hissed for a moment before going out. It doesn’t matter where I go next, I tried to reassure myself, as long as I keep moving forward and didn’t stand still, I’d feel better,in time. Like a shark. As I looked up, I saw two head-lights swell under the snow-flakes, growing bigger as they drew nearer; they blossomed, like flowers made of light, then scattered into a million glittering threads of refraction. The cab began to crawl down the street, as if the driver was straining to spot me through the thick sheets of falling snow. I stepped forward, holding one quivering hand up into the air, half expecting the cab to pass right past me. It continued to drive down the road, steady and slow. I raised my hand a little higher, forcing my stiff fingers to stretch out; a little like jazz-hands, it occurred to me. The cab pulled to a sudden stop. I shifted my back-pack higher up onto my shoulders and ran toward the back-seat of the cab, feeling the snow whip and lash against my face on the way. My blue fingers wrapped around the yellow door-handle and I pulled it open, practically leaping inside. The warmth hit me in the face like a pillow. Instantly, my hands tingled from the change in temperature and my toes started to throb. The driver must have had the heater cranked, and in that moment, I loved them for it. The cab was one of the van-types you’d usually see near the airport. Perfect for lots of suit-cases, I guess, but not the kind of cab you’d expect in the suburbs late at night. I made good use of the extra-room in the back by stretching out my snow-caked boots and placing my back-pack on the row of seats opposite me. "Are you Nick?" The voice belonged to a woman; it was slightly smokey, raspy even. A set of big, amber eyes looked at me through the rear-view mirror and I found myself lost for words. "I have to make sure I picked up the right person." "Yes, I’m Nick. Sorry for ripping the door off like that, but it’s murder out there." My voice stuttered a little, because the warmth inside the cab was gradually melting the ice off my vocal-cords. "I bet", she chuckled. I’ve never had a woman cab driver before, I thought, realizing what a cliché that was a moment later. Like something out of a soft-core porn. The type they make in Italy for bored house-wives. "Why don’t you come sit up front?", she said. "It’s warmer up here, closer to the heaters." Her head turned over her shoulder, just slightly, giving me a glimpse of the side of her face; dark skin, evenly toned, the exact opposite of snow. "I won’t bite, sweetie." CHAPTER THREE: WHERE AM I TAKING YOU, SWEETIE?" Hair-dressers, cab-drivers, dentists… In my experience, most of them want conversation from you, as if it were a second form of payment for their services. Rarely do I feel more uncomfortable than when answering their questions, always awkwardly dodging any real substantive conversation. I avoid this chitter-chatter whenever possible, staying quiet and keeping entirely to myself. I don’t know what did it that night — maybe it was the way those blue eyes narrowed on me, maybe the raspy way she kept saying sweetie — but I found myself climbing back out of the cab and into the passenger’s seat, instead. "Hey", I said, instinctively raising my hands from my lap toward the heaters on the dash-board. "How’s your night been going so far?" In exchange for my warmer position, I felt like I owed her at least a little conversation, even if Id much rather stare quietly out the window at the falling snow. She wore an unzipped slim Winter jacket with a black shirt beneath it and red lip-stick that looked tacky, way too sticky. Without the lip-stick, I imagined she’d look like sweet and sincere. With it, it gave her a slightly pathetic look, like a soon-to-be retired sex worker. "I’m good", she said. "Finishing my shift in the hour, so I’m a happy-camper. So… Where am I taking you, sweetie?" "Honestly, I don’t know…" I expected her to react to that, to scold me for wasting her time, but instead, she simply waited for me to continue, her expression maintaining completely placid. After a second of thinking to my-self, I replied: "I was hoping you could take me toward downtown, that general area, then maybe, when we get closer, I’ll think of a bar or something I’d like to go to." "Sure", she said, pulling away from the curb. "We’ll cruise." I sensed no real exasperation in her voice, so I settled back into my seat and wiggled my frosty toes inside my boots, attempting to spread the warmth. It’d take a while to get to the high-way, so I didn’t need to begin brain-storming just yet. After a few minutes of idly gazing out the window, I began to feel the blood-flow to my finger-tips again. "Are you running away from something, honey? Is this your great escape?" She was looking side-ways at me; playful, with an underlinging note of suspicion. Its strange to not know where you want to go, is all." "No. Well, I guess. But I’m not running from anything literal, like the police, or something like that. Just the Winter blues, I suppose. I know that sounds silly…" "Not at all." She took a deep breath, her amber eyes darting over to me briefly. The was something about that look she gave that tingled: it had an energy to it, a sense of over-awareness. Since our conversation had begun, there had been a growing lump in my throat. I couldn’t exactly say why I felt nervous, but it occurred to me for the first time that she might be feeling it, too. It’s like back in Biology class, I remembered. When I was paired with one of the girls for a project, there was always that tension. The boy/girl tension, only… Why am I feeling that now? "Well…", she continued. "I know the feeling. I get it every year, like clock-work. Always a couple weeks before Christmas." She glanced at me again, smiling; this time the look felt more casual, but not completely absent of that tension. Why am lorena garcia model I getting turned on? She’s… Kinda *gorgeous, but so much older than I am… She’d probably pull over and throw me out of her cab if she had any idea what I was thinking…* Then, I realized I had gotten lost in my thoughts. She was still talking: "I blame the jingles on the radio and all the talk about family in the commercials. She paused to yawn, holding her milky black palm her mouth delicately. Do you have any family in town?" "No", I answered. "They’re back home. I’m just here for the University. What about you? Do you have any family in town?" I realized that if I had been sitting in a hair-dresser’s chair, I’d have likely lied about my family and said they were in town for the sake of an easier narrative. I could hear myself do it: Oh yeah, big family, lots of celebrations, ahuh, eggnog, for sure. I just simply have no desire at all to share my personal life with strangers, so most often, I simply tell them what I think they want to hear. But… Why didnt I lie to her? Is it because I’m nervous? "Nope", she replied. "I don’t have much family. None that are living here in town." Another yawn — like a cat, I thought. The radio has been shitting me all day. Fucking carols. Do you mind if I put a CD on? I thought I should ask befor– Go ahead, I said. "I’m okay listening to just about anything. Thanks. She opened the centre-console with one hand, tried to fumble blindly through it for the CD, then gave up, defeated. Mind finding it in there for me? Blue case. Sorry sweetie, it’s full of junk, I know." Theres that word again, sweetie; it felt warm coming from here, like a surprise ray of light on a cloudy day. Not unlike the tone the lunch-lady at middle-school had used, I recalled. Sure, I said, then began to rummage through the centre-console. Mints, spare receipt-pads, a copy of ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’ (deep sigh), a discarded candy-bar wrapper, a see-through blue CD-case, a brush, a set of — wait, that was it. I grabbed the CD-case and opened it. The label, written in bulky letters that didn’t entirely look feminine, read: Christina’s Mix. I put the CD in the player, thinking to myself: so, its Christina, huh. A couple seconds of silence, then the first song on her CD started. I couldnt recognize it, at first. Just sounded like swirling cymbals to me, almost ambient; then the drums kicked in, as did my recognition. "Tusk!", I belted out. I love this song! A smile spread across her face. Great minds, she said, almost stoically. — VOLUME TWO: SPREADING WARMTH — CHAPTER ONE: FLICKERING LIGHTS I settled back into my seat and lowered my hands from the taxi’s heater, gazing out the passenger’s-side window. Blurry lights swished passed under a transparent curtain of snow. The effect was hypnotic. "Mind if I take the long route?" Christina said. "The view from the mountains is gorgeous tonight. I came to pick you up from the air-port, so I know. And with Saturday night traffic, it could actually be quicker." "Sure", I said. "I wouldn’t mind at all. Sounds kinda nice, actually." Christina turned to smile at me, amber eyes gleaming in the darkness. Her smile was genuine, but not without concealed intent. I smiled back, then everything seemed to turn quiet, as if someone pressed mute on our conversation. Both of us stared forward through the windshield at the flurry outside, avoiding any more eye contact, likely thinking the same thing: What is going on? Why am I entertaining this? When the silence finally became unbearable, I broke it by asking: "Can you see the stars from up there? The mountains, I mean." Christina smiled again, this time with considerable more restraint. Her eyes seemed slightly faint, dim even, like those of a person talking to a complete stranger. Then, she said: "You can. When I was driving to you from the air-port, it nearly took my breath away." Christina reached out a hand to turn the music down a little, so she could talk quieter: "I love that moment when you start driving down the mountain and the town is laid out there in-front of you, all glittery and shimmering. Catches my breath every single time." "Me too", I said, feeling that warmth kindle again. "Mind if I wind down my window to have a smoke? If it bothers you, the smoke, just say so. I’m not meant to in here anyway, but–" "–Sometimes you do", I finished, free viv thomas videos grinning. "Is it okay if I wind my window down too and join you?" She laughed and something inside me reacted by spontaneously combusting. Her eyes had that gleam again, I noticed. A certain presence in them. "Of course!", she said, laughter trailing off into cute giggles. "Only if you don’t mind losing a little heat, love." I reached for my pack of smokes, then wound the window down. "It’ll get warm in here again quick enough. You’re heaters work on over-drive." As we drove higher up the mountain, the town diminished in the rear-view mirror and the stars grew brighter. I found myself gazing out of the window for short phases, feeling calm and at ease, happy to let the time slip past. Close to twenty minutes had passed since the cab-lady — Christina, I corrected myself — had picked me up and still, I had no idea where I wanted to go. I figured star-gazing was as good as anything, though. My eyes wandered up to the fare-ticker. It read: $26.79. I hadn’t noticed before, but she must have stopped it, or paused it. I wasn’t terribly worried about it in the first place. Neither of us seemed concerned. CHAPTER TWO: OFF HER SHIFT She flicked her cigarette out the window, then pulled a u-turn and parked, so we would face the twinkling city beneath us. "It’s beautiful", I said, looking through the windshield. "I know", she said. "You feel any better, sweety?" She looked across at me, her eyes no different than the flickering lights on the horizon. "Yes. I feel like this is exactly where I needed to go. Thank you." She smiled. "We don’t have to go anywhere in a hurry, unless you need to." "Want to share a cigarette?", I asked, less out of want to only smoke half of one and more out of a desire to feel a glancing touch of her hand as I passed it to her… or to taste her red lip-stick on the filter when she handed it back. "Sure. I’ll have another." We shared the cigarette in silence for a while, then I tossed it out my window. She took her seat-belt off and reclined her seat, then looked over at me, inviting me to do the same. I did. Reclined, I had a much better view of the stars. It was lovely to see them so bright, from an elevated perspective, above the light-pollution and dreariness. After a minute or two, I realized I also had an excellent view between Christina’s large breasts and the chocolate valley between them. I darted my vision back up toward the stars again, hoping she hadn’t noticed my inappropriate glance. After a couple minutes of star-gazing and ideal conversation — not to mention a few more inappropriate peeks down her shirt — I was starting to prey to God that she hadn’t spotted the slight bulge growing under the zipper of my jeans. I thought about sliding one of my hands into my pocket to adjust my cock into a less obvious position, but that would be a dead give-away in my reclined state. So, I just hoped she wouldn’t look away from the stars. What else could I do? After a long silence, I said: "To be honest with you, I’m not even sure I need to go downtown any more. I’m content being right here." "Is that so?’, she asked, smiling. "Yeah", I said, looking at my watch. "You’re off your shift in fifteen minutes. Do you have to park the cab back at your work for the night?" "No, I take it home when I work the early shift." "So, you are like me, in no real hurry." She giggled, with just the hint of nervousness. "I’m in the same boat, yes." There was an awkward silence, because I suddenly didn’t know where to take this line of conversation next. I looked into her eyes and I saw a potential that excited and terrified me. Had I lost control of myself?, I thought. What do I think is exactly going to happen here with this woman? Shes nearly twice my age, shed never consider— She’d never consider what?, I asked myself. Sleeping with a man my age? A white man? There was a momentary silence in my thoughts, then a voice inside my head scolded me: Why does that matter? Does any of it matter? Stop thinking and enjoy this woman’s company. It’s something special. "If Im taking the taxi home tonight, Christina said, interrupting my internal monologue. "Does that mean I have to take you home with me, too?" She giggled again, trying to disclose the sub-text that question hid underneath her bubbly laughter. Sure, I replied, my voice sturdy enough for her to know I meant it. Id love to go home with you. If you havent eaten, maybe Ill cook you something to eat? Or Ill order Chinese, she said, still giggling. As she sat up and adjusted the seat back to normal, then pulled away from the curb, Portisheads Glory Box began to play on her CD. The erection that had subsided after I stopped peeking between her cleavage was now back, rock-hard and probably there to stay. CHAPTER THREE: OFF HER SHIFT What do you do for work?, she asked me, at the exact moment Id slipped my hand down the front-pocket of my jeans to adjust my stiff, throbbing cock. She glanced side-ways at me on the word work and I saw her eye-line dart down to the bulge in my crotch. She looked forward again, not saying anything. Retail, I said, feeling awkward and dumb. But I write and do photography in my free time. In the same placid voice, she said: And just then, you were trying to hide your dick from me seeing it, right? I didnt know what to say. I just looked at her. She glanced toward me again, her expression blank and un-readable. Right? Her voice reminded me fleetingly of my French teacher in grade-school and the patient way shed ask you to repeat a word you’d mispronounced. After an increasingly awkward silence, she finished with a simple: "Busted" and another string of adorable giggles. I felt the blood rush to my face and turn my cheeks rosy. All I managed to get out of my mouth was a quivering, reluctant laugh. My rock-hard cock, however, refused to acknowledge my embarrassment. Dont feel bad, she said. You cant see my lady-boner, but its there, alright. Raging… Invisible… Lady boner…" More giggles, these like the crackle of fireworks. At the lights up here, even if its green, Im going to stop for a moment; just long enough for you to pull that bad-boy out, okay sweetie? Dont be shy. She smiled at me, as I twisted in my seat. Despite the bubble of anxiety inflating in my chest, my cock had begun to pulse harder than ever — honestly, ever. The taxi pulled up at the light, which was red, and Christina looked at me eagerly. Without realizing what my hands were doing, I un-did my fly and reached under my briefs. Her eyes grew wide. One of her hands left the steering-wheel and moved down toward her thigh. My hand grabbed hold on my shaft, which already felt wet with pre-cum, and I tugged it out. I reached back under my briefs quickly, letting go of my shaft and letting it throb in the air, then brought my balls up and placed them over the zipper of my jeans. The light turned green, but Christina was still starring at my cock. Acting on some primal impulse, I grabbed my shaft again and gave my cock a few strokes, letting the pre-cum spread evenly over my foreskin. Christina reached out with her hand, just as I took mine away. She gripped my cock firmly, then gave it a few slow, long strokes. I felt a shudder of pleasure run up my spine and dispersed through my shoulders... — AUTHORS NOTE: This version has been heavily revised, compared to the original I posted. This was mostly to re-ignite my inspiration, but also to better set things up for Volume Three and Volume Four, now that I know exactly what I want. I’d like to say a thank you to the lovely "WhisperInTheDarkness" for all of her edits on the previous volume. A link to volumes two an three will be provided here when I get them up. VOLUME THREE: TBD VOLUME FOUR: TBD — KinkyNick_Canada