Kojotenhöhle

Was dich hier erwartet, ist nicht der Versuch, irgendetwas zu umschreiben. Ich nenne die Dinge durchaus beim Namen, auch wenn ich versuche, das niveauvoll zu tun. Und ich versuche außerdem, Geschichten zu erzählen, in denen der Sex ein Teil des Ganzen ist und nicht der einzige Teil. Man findet hier wohl auch Grenzwertiges für manche Geschmäcker. Ob man es als BDSM-artig oder als abartig empfindet, liegt dabei ganz im Auge des Betrachters.

Wenn es dir gefällt, lass es mich wissen. Wenn es dir nicht gefällt, gerne auch. Hinterlass mir einen Kommentar oder schreib es mir per Mail an Mike.Stone bei gmx.net .

Samstag, 25. August 2012

Warum ich Pornos schaue - again


Jemand hat mich gefragt, warum ich Pornos schaue. Und da es einen deutlichen Zusammenhang zwischen meinem Pornokonsum und meinen Geschichten gibt, kam mir der Gedanke, dass es ein schönes Thema für einen kleinen Blogbeitrag wäre. Und ein paar andere Fragen kann ich dann gleich nebenbei mit beantworten.
(Und das, obwohl ich mich ja schon einmal detaillierter zu diesem Thema geäußert habe. Man muss ich da viel Mitteilungsbedarf haben...)

Also die offensichtlichste und erste Antwort auf die Frage lautet: Weil ich gerne beim Sex zusehe.
Es ist etwas, dass auf mich die gleiche, erregende Wirkung hat, wie auf die meisten Männer. Es ist etwas, wozu ich durchaus gut masturbieren kann. Und es ist in Pornoclips meistens deutlich besser zu erkennen, als beim Beobachten von realem Sex.
Habe ich deswegen kein ausgefülltes Sexleben? Doch. Habe ich. Dank Pornos ist es sogar besser geworden. Sie erlauben mit nämlich, gewisse Dinge, die ich mag, einfach vorzuführen, anstatt sie umständlich zu erklären. Und ansonsten bringen sie nicht nur mich auf Ideen, sondern auch viele Frauen.
Und davon ab kann ich durchaus wichsen und Sex haben wollen. Sogar am gleichen Tag. Und es hat rein gar nichts mit sexueller Frustration zu tun, wenn ich ‚Fünf gegen Willi‘ spiele.

Aber wenn wir mal von diesem recht offensichtlichen Themenbereich absehen, gibt es noch einen weiteren Grund für mich, Pornos zu schauen. Und zwar immer und immer wieder verschiedene und manchmal einige bestimmte in rascher Wiederholung. Und dieser Grund ist zweigeteilt.

Zum einen inspirieren mich manche Pornos. Manchmal ist es die Attitüde der Darstellerinnen, manchmal das Set-Up. Manchmal sogar die kleine Story, die nicht immer grottenschlecht erzählt wird. Pornos mögen meistens an Handlung kränkeln, aber sie bringen manchmal auch die Sache auf den Punkt und zeigen das Wesentliche für jemanden, der Sexgeschichten schreibt. Was davor und danach geschah und geschieht, kann meine Fantasie mühe- und lückenlos auffüllen.
Und bevor jemand jetzt danach fragt: Sicherlich kann meine Fantasie sich auch alle möglichen Geschichten ganz ausdenken, aber es ist nicht selten einfach schön, einen bestimmten Plot oder auch nur ein Kernstück davon auf dem Silbertablett präsentiert zu bekommen. Und da ich ohnehin Pornos schaue, kann ich es auch benutzen, oder?!
Wer sich nun fragt, wie sowas als Endergebnis aussieht, der sei auf meine Geschichte My Sisters Hot Friends verwiesen. Die entstand nämlich spontan aus einem Pornoclip mit ähnlichem Titel. Den Clip würde man dabei vermutlich nicht wiederkennen, aber wenn man aufmerksam wäre, würde einem das ‚Feeling‘ auffallen, das in meinen Augen ziemlich ähnlich ist.


Und dann ist da noch der andere Teil des Grundes: Ich beobachte.
Man könnte auch sagen: Ich studiere. So wie ich Menschen studiere, die miteinander in der Öffentlichkeit reden. Oder noch besser beim Flirten zusehe. Und zuhöre. So wie ich die unterschiedlichen Wege analysiere, wie Gespräche und Flirts verlaufen, um meine eigenen Erfahrungen um eine zusätzliche Perspektive zu erweitern, so sehe ich bei Pornoclips Menschen beim Ficken zu.
Jetzt kann gerne jeder sagen, dass die dargestellte Sexualität unrealistisch und überspitzt ist. Und das ist auch bei vielen Clips richtig. Und bei anderen wieder nicht, wie ich aus eigener Erfahrung sagen kann. Aber der Punkt ist, dass auch Pornodarsteller nicht zu anatomisch unmöglichen Verrenkungen imstande sind.
Durch eigene Erfahrungen, ein wenig zufälliges Gespanne und viele, viele Pornoclips habe ich einen ganz guten Eindruck davon, wie Sex von hinten, von vorne, von oben, unten oder der Seite und völlig auf dem Kopf stehend aussehen kann. Und das hilft mir dabei, meine Sexszenen zu visualisieren.
Ich bewege mich dabei trotzdem innerhalb der Bahnen meines persönlichen Geschmacks. Das dürfte logisch sein. Aber auch in dieser Komfortzone ist die Bandbreite von Analsex oder einem Blowjob ziemlich groß. Und dank Pornos habe ich eine ganz gute Idee davon, was so theoretisch möglich ist.


Ein paar Worte zum Thema zum Thema Porno-Business erscheinen mir an dieser Stelle angemessen.
Diese Branche ist hart. Und unfair. Und missbräuchlich. Ich werde das nicht schönreden. Und ich werde auch gar nicht erst anfangen, solche Argumente aufzugreifen, wie das jede Frau schließlich die Wahl hat, ob sie das machen will, oder ob nicht. Schon allein, weil noch immer einige diese Wahl nicht haben.
Aber das ändert nichts daran, dass ich die Clips von Jersey Jaxin einfach heiß finde. Auch wenn sie ausgestiegen ist und dieser Name für sie nun tot ist.
Sorry, Tanya. You did some really hot things back then. I just can’t help it.

Und abgesehen davon gibt es Leute, die ganz und gar freiwillig ganz und gar private Videos machen und veröffentlichen. Es gibt Pornosternchen, die tatsächlich diesen Beruf ausüben wollen. Und wenn ich so einen Clip sehe, weiß ich selten, was nun der genaue Hintergrund ist. Also überlasse ich es anderen, einen Krieg gegen diese Industrie zu führen und beschränke meine Beteiligung darauf, die ohnehin lächerlichen Preise für kaufbares Material nicht zu zahlen, sondern mir meine visuellen Reize dort zu holen, wo man sie kostenlos bekommt.
Und wenn mich das zu einem schlechten Menschen macht… So be it.


Ich schaue Pornos also aus den genannten Gründen. Und ich schäme mich nicht dafür. Auch nicht für meine teilweise schon recht extremen Wunschvorstellungen in sexueller Hinsicht, die ich vielleicht ohne Pornos nie gehabt hätte. Obwohl ich da keine Wette drauf halten würde.
Ich setze nicht voraus, dass eine Frau die Skills eines Pornostars hat. Aber ich habe die Beobachtung gemacht, dass eine Menge Frauen durchaus Spaß daran haben, der geilste Pornostar ihres oder ihrer Lover zu sein. Und das sie so einige Dinge nicht bloß ‚dem Mann zuliebe‘ tun, sondern auch selbst Spaß daran haben.
Und außerdem bemühe ich mich, die Gefallen zurückzuzahlen und im Gegenzug auch Wunschträume zu erfüllen. Also sind die Pornos im Grunde beinahe so etwas wie eine kleine Hilfe dabei, sich ein Bild von dem zu machen, was man noch so anregend finden könnte und mal ausprobieren will.

Wer das abstoßend finden will und nun einen Rückschluss auf meine Einstellung gegenüber der Frauenwelt ziehen möchte, der möge das tun. Ich gebe ihm dabei gerne noch ein paar Pauschalisierungen mit auf den Weg. Beispielsweise: ‚Fast jede Frau träumt einmal davon, vergewaltigt zu werden‘ oder ‚Fast jede Frau möchte einmal für einen Mann eine richtige Drecksschlampe sein‘. Und ich sage das einfach ohne Relativierungen, weil diejenigen, die weiter als bis zur Nasenspitze sehen können, mich schon verstehen werden und der Rest sowieso nur liest, was er lesen will.

Whew… Plötzlich wurde ein kleiner Rant daraus. Sorry.
Ich hoffe, ein paar Fragen sind nun zufriedenstellend beantwortet und ein paar Leute fühlen sich vielleicht angestoßen, mir nun einmal einen Hinweis auf einen, für sie ganz besonders anregenden Clip zu geben. Ist wahrscheinlich einfacher als mir umständlich ein Setting zu erklären, zu dem ich eine Geschichte schreiben könnte.

Und wer sich jetzt fragt, was ich mit meinen Andeutungen auf meine Vorlieben wohl so gemeint haben könnte… Nun… Mal ehrlich. Wenn du meine Geschichten gelesen hast, dann dürftest du schon einen recht guten Eindruck gewonnen haben. Ich schreibe nur in absoluten Ausnahmefällen über etwas, was ich abstoßend finde und selten über Dinge, die ich noch nicht irgendwie ausprobiert habe. ;-)

In diesem Sinne…

Sonntag, 19. August 2012

In the Navy - Teil 01 - English

In the Navy
Maybe nothing more than a cock-and-bull story.
© 08/2011 Coyote/Kojote/Mike Stone

Nun... Es ist Englisch, wie man sieht. Eine Entschuldigung an all meine Leser, die diese Sprache nicht beherrschen. Ich wollte es probieren. Denken und schreiben in Englisch. Und ich glaube, es hat ganz gut funktioniert.
Ich werde es irgendwann übersetzten. Aber bis dahin hier erst einmal die Originalversion.


*****

Part 01
Part 02

*****


I.

I have many memories from my time as a seaman of the German Navy. I was young and didn’t know shit about the world in general and women in particular. Plus I had no confidence to speak of when I joined. When my term of enlistment ended, I still didn’t know much and was certainly none the wiser, but I had gained confidence. And I got laid surprisingly often.
When I think about that time, there is one memory that stands out. Some kind of first time in a way. The first time I met a woman from and in another country intimately

It was only one and a half years after joining the Navy. One year of instruction until I was ready to be sent to my ship and do my job as a radar operator and petty officer and half a year of shipboard experience mostly composed of training, training and - let me think about it - yeah, training. All of it in preparation for going down to the Mediterranean to enforce the embargo against civil warring Yugoslavia.
The last part of preparations was a trip to Norway - more precisely Stavanger - for radar operational-tests and measurement. Something each of our ships had to go through every couple of years.

For me, it was the first time I would see another country. But to be honest there was not much time to be excited.
The days at sea were filled with drill, drill and then some drill to round the meal. And once we reached Norwegian territorial waters we got surprised by an impromptu exercise with a Norwegian Frigate and some of their air force units. But at least it wasn’t another firefighting, man over board, medical emergency, or leakage drill. So everybody was actually kinda grateful for the distraction.

My job was to spot and track incoming airplanes. Not the most important job on a ship that was built for hunting submarines and wasn’t meant to operate alone, but anyway…
I think the point of this exercise was to train joint operations with other Navies. Something we would need experience with when operating in the Med in a multinational naval formation. But every military purpose lost its significance when I accidentally started to have a lot of fun.

Part of my job was to call every possible threat spotted in my area of responsibility via radio. And of course everybody else listened to that frequency and said everything important there, too. That’s why there was something called ‘radio discipline’ to abide by.
My aerial surveillance responsibility was shared with that of our Norwegian partner in the exercise. And like with our ship, it wasn’t their main business to engage airplanes. Therefore I happened to share my workload with only one other person. And she happened to be female and sounded amazingly cute.

Whenever she acknowledged something I said I felt some kind of shiver going down my spine. The first time I heard her voice is still clear and fresh in my memory even today - many, many years later.
“This is Callsign,” I shouted shortly after the start of the exercise. And of course ‘Callsign’ stands for a seemingly random combination of numbers and letters; I’m not allowed to tell, since they were confidential. Top secret, even if I could remember the particular call signs of that day. “New Boogey! Bearing 247! Closing fast! Over.”
It doesn’t matter that I told everybody this way that a new contact was coming from the lower left with high speed. That was part of the exercise and no real surprise. What mattered to me was the answer:

“A’dis is Callsign,” she chirped, “A’rogerr, ouverr.”

It was the way she put a cute little ‘a’ in front of every sentence she said and the way she rolled her ‘r’, that did it for me. And she did that every time she talked over the radio.
After a while I used every single opportunity to provoke an answer from her. Normally she had to answer, when I said ‘over’. Even if it was only an acknowledgment of me saying something. I clearly remember our officer in charge of the exercise slowly getting upset from my talkative mood. But that didn’t bother me the least.

In the end we managed to virtually shoot one plane down and got virtually sunk about a dozen times. Yay!
When we were almost finished I couldn’t resist. I just had to compliment her.
Therefore I said: “Callsign, this is Callsign. Thank you for lightening up my day with your stunning voice.”

Bear with me. I actually had thought about what to say for half an hour. I know that it wasn’t the most original thing, but I was pretty young and pretty nervous.
Anyway…

“A’dis is Callsign,” she said and I swear I heard her grinning. “A’rogerr-out.”

It was immediately followed by the voice of my commanding officer barking into the frequency and demanding said ‘radio discipline’. And that was followed by him rushing over to my place and telling me for about ten minutes, what he would do with me, my career and my ass if I ever - ever - dared to do something like this again.
But fuck… It was worth it.

Afterward, life went on and we got into harbor. Or to be more precise to a pier in the midst of the small city. And the Norwegian Frigate accompanied us. Finally docking directly behind our ship.
There was no doubt that we would pay our visit and bring some booze and cigarettes with us. The stuff was amazingly expensive in Norway in those days and we had plenty.
Blessed with being petty officers and therefore leaving the actual work behind to be done by the regular crewmen, most of us who had decided to visit the Norwegians were ready to go when we called it a day. And we - or more accurately the booze, the smokes and then us sailors in that order - were greeted by some of the Norwegian petty officers and led to their mess.

We were standing around and taking the first swigs of beer, when one of the Norwegians finally dared to ask.
“So… who was it?”

It was pretty clear what he meant. And apparently all of them wanted to know it. The idle chatter stopped almost instantly.
I knew very well that somebody would finally answer the question. Most of my comrades knew by now what I had done. They had taken the opportunity to laugh about it. Therefore I just raised my hand, lowered my head and prepared for the most likely reaction.

Naturally, there was a lot of laughter. But they also patted my back and gave me advice how to meet a girl for real, instead of trying to date via military radio frequencies. Most of the jokes were good natured, so I grinned a bit sheepishly and bore it.
But not everybody was laughing and joking. There was at least one guy who seemed to scorn me. At that point I thought he might be just a little bit more uptight than the others.

The party went on and the topic had almost been dropped in favor of more interesting things, when a girl entered the mess. Unlike our ship this one had no separate hallway to get by the large common room. You had to cross it to reach the aft section of the ship.
I noticed her almost immediately. As did my people.
It wasn’t a question of gender as much as it was a question of dress. Or no dress in this case, for she did only wear a towel wrapped around her torso.
For me it was more than a little awkward to see a woman on board of a ship this way. But the Norwegians didn’t care much. Until the one that scorned me a little earlier noticed her, that is.

I couldn’t understand what he called out to her. But I saw her hesitating for a moment. Who wouldn’t have paused when confronted with half a dozen staring guys? But then she straightened her back and came over to say hello and talk to the one who called her out.
Like my comrades I really tried to concentrate on something else. But of course we all noticed every tiny move her body made.

Like most Norwegian girls I met back then I found her very cute. There almost appeared to be a law against the unattractive ones showing up when foreigners where around.
However, unlike so many Norwegians she actually was brunette instead of blond. And she really had those light blue eyes to match that. Her face - for real the second thing after the general impression I noticed - was cute. Her features were delicate and of course freckled.

Her body on the other hand was lithe and curvy, but also remarkably muscular. Not like female bodybuilders, but more like runners or swimmers. Probably both. Her strong thighs were matched by protruding hips and a slender waist and her bosom was up to that image. All in all she looked fit and sturdy and not the least bit fragile.
But the most remarkable thing about her was, that she was rather short compared to the average Norwegian. Maybe 1.65 meters - or five feet five inches - at best.

While talking the guy gave her his glass of beer and she took a swig or two. I got the impression that he was her superior and that it wasn’t much of a deal to talk to somebody only wearing a towel on Norwegian ships. Nobody seemed to think anything of it.
After a short while, he also gave her the bottle of whiskey we had brought with us and encouraged her to give it a try. It was when she nipped cautiously that he made his move.

Everybody - Norwegians and Germans alike - was surprised, when he stepped around her and shoved her into the group by her shoulders. He maneuvered her directly to confront me and switched to English to say:

“Now this is your ‘cute guy’ from the radio. Have fun…”

I didn’t even have the time to comprehend what he meant, before he ripped her towel away from behind and left her totally naked amidst the group.

It was one of those moments when time stands still.
The room was silent in an instant and every single guy stared to her breasts. She blushed and for a second I expected her to panic. But then she looked up at me.
To be perfectly honest, I got my look at her boobs. It was an almost automatic drop of the eyes and I didn’t regret seeing those full, round apples, with their pert little nipples surrounded by small aureoles. But after this moment of weakness I looked into her face.
As far as I had managed to comprehend this was the owner of the cute voice from the afternoon. And I was really interested in more than just her chest, or her taut stomach, or her alluring…
What?! You’d have to be gay not to notice that, too.

She frowned and stared into my eyes. It wasn’t fair that she had to find herself in this situation and I felt sympathy. I almost made my decision to step up and cover her. But she acted an instant before me.
She made a step forward and pressed herself against my body. Her hands were still occupied by the glass and the bottle. She didn’t let go of them. Maybe because alcohol was really expensive in Norway. Or maybe just because she did not think about it.
I lifted my arms and brought my hands to my shoulders. It was pretty clear for me what to do next.

When joking about a situation like this, I would have chipped in that the best reaction would be to step back and take a second look. But this wasn’t a joke. It was real. And my mother did a good job in teaching me to respect women.
I grabbed my shirt at the neck and pulled it up.

Of course nobody realized my intention. I got cheers almost immediately. They all thought I’d kinda strip or something.
The face of the girl directly in front of me grew concerned first. She frowned again and maybe she was about to regret her choice. But my face never lost its serious expression and apparently calmed her worries.

To be honest again I really noticed the touch of her skin on my stomach. It was warm and felt like silk.
I’ll never forget the moment when my shirt lifted her breast ever so slightly and her slowly hardening nipples poked into my upper body. That was one great feeling!
But I didn’t hesitate. I got rid of my shirt and slipped it over her head in one motion. Since it was several sizes larger than her frame, it came down by itself after I leaned back a bit to give room for that.

The shirt slipped down over her torso and hips and managed to cover enough of her body to be decent. So I could step to the side and halfway around her to put my fist directly into the face of the shithead, who had brought his female comrade into this embarrassing situation.
I didn’t care for the reasons he had or for his rank. I had no doubt that something like this wouldn’t be deemed appropriate even in the unreserved air of the Norwegian Navy. In fact I did it to… well… kinda defend her honor. To exact revenge on her behalf, or something.
I happened to be that kind of guy.

He didn’t see it coming. And afterward he didn’t see anything, because he dropped immediately.
Two of the other Norwegians made a step into my direction, but I ignored them completely. I just turned around, swept the girl from her feet and took her onto my arms.

“Your quarters?”

“Huh…”, she gasped, surprised by the sudden motion, but she accommodated herself quickly and brought one arm around my neck. “Down there.”

I walked into the direction she pointed out and tried not to think about consequences. Most likely I had beaten a superior of an allied naval force and would have to face disciplinary measures soon. But for now I had a job to do. As a man and as a sailor, too.

“You don’t have to carry me all the way”, she said smiling, suggesting I could let her down.

“I’m a sailor, Madam. And a member of the German Navy. We live to carry a damsel in distress in our arms, to the end of the world, if need be.”

“A damsel in distress?” she laughed. “Well I’m a sailor, too. I hope you don’t expect me to return the favor when the situation is reversed.”

I tensed a bit while walking down the hallway. I realized only now that I was bare to the waist. I got self-conscious immediately.
Objectively viewed I was in good shape. I had been through three strenuous months of exercises with the ship and four weeks of training with the German Kampfschwimmer - some equivalent of the American SEALS - learning boarding procedures and combat tactics in preparation of our trip to the Mediterranean. But even now I had some love handles left I couldn’t get rid of.

And before that I had been outright overweight almost all of my life. I had never been overly confident. Now I got reminded that the reaction of girls was one main reason for this lack of confidence.
She must have sensed my thoughts. I’m pretty sure they were written all over my face.

“I mean you’re large and strong and I’m the smallest crewmember on board…”

“I’m not that strong. It’s you. You’re airy.”

“Huh…”
She really blushed a little in spite of the fact that she hat to know that all too well.
“Thank you. But you are wrong. You not only easily carry me around. You knocked out Christian with one strike.”

“Lucky hit…” I tried to understate it. But to be honest I reveled in her praise.

“This door,” she pointed out. “You can really let…”

Instead of listening I just opened the door and brought her in. It was a four person accommodation for petty officers and nobody was present. Only then, after closing the door, did I finally let her down.

Standing in front of each other the situation was a little bit awkward. I did the only thing I could do and turned around to leave the room. My plan was to wait outside and give her the time to change. And I would have said so, but she was first.

“Wait…” she said almost bustling. “Don’t leave. Your shirt…”

“I just wanted to be decent and wait outside,” I explained.

“Oh…” I think I heard her blush. “Well…”

I reached out to take the door handle.

“Is it true?” she blurted out.

“Huh? What?”
My hand paused.

“Are you the one from the radio?”

“Well…” Now it was my turn to blush. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I was just…”

“No,” she chimed in. “No. I felt… flattered. That was…”

“Cute?” I dared to ask. “Like in ‘the cute guy’?”

“Yeah.” Now she snickered a bit. “Actually it was… It… is…”

“Well… I’m sorry that I couldn’t live up to the expectation.”

Oh shut up. I know myself that it was absolutely unnecessary to say something like that. But it slipped out anyway.
There was a moment of silence behind me. As far as I could tell she hadn’t started to get dressed. And since I felt I had busted the talkative mood I once again reached for the handle.

“What’s your name?” she gently asked.

“Mike…”

“Well… I’m Kristanna.”
She took a deep breath.
“Would you please turn around, Mike?”

“I… uh…”

“Just pretty please…”
It was almost a whisper.

I did as she said. She told me to do it and so it wouldn’t be wrong, right?
I was in no way prepared to find out that she had taken off my shirt already. My jaw dropped and this time I didn’t look into her face.

“Hi Mike. Nice to meet you…” she cooed.

I finally managed to get myself together enough to meet her gaze. She smiled confidently. She was apparently used to the reactions her naked body evoked.
But there was nothing vain in her eyes. They were tender and warm and strangely welcoming.

“I don’t know why you think lowly of yourself, but I don’t,” she explained softly. “You not only saved me when you could have had your fun along with the others. But you also did what I could have never done to my superior and… Ex…”

So that was the reason for his strange behavior: Jealousy.

“Now this damsel isn’t in distress anymore. She’s not even a damsel. But she’d really like to get those arms around her once again. Do you think there might be a way…?”

Kristanna had taken some slow steps into my direction and used her stunning body for maximum effect. What I lacked in confidence she had tenfold. The temperature inside the small room climbed up immediately and I felt a certain erotic tension. Not only below my waistline, but between the two of us as well.

When she reached me I was game. I would never have taken the first step with this awesome woman. And she must have sensed that and made up for it. When she slipped into my arms I couldn’t do anything but embrace her tentatively.
This time I could concentrate on the feeling of her skin touching mine. I loved the feeling when her soft breasts pressed into my upper body and how those two little nubs poked into my chest again.
Her hands worked their way from my lower arms up to my shoulders and then to my neck, where they signaled me to lower my head.

Before our mouths met for the first time, I felt like I was on autopilot, but the electricity of our first kiss woke me up from my stupor. To kiss this amazing girl who could have had anyone from my ship, but chose me, was kinda world shaking. I didn’t want her to regret it.
Her lips parted almost immediately and I felt the tip of her tongue searching for its counterpart. I did my best to chase it around while trying not to get lost in the sweet taste of her mouth. But she evaded capture and teased me until I got really serious. Only when I put my arms around her back and shoulders and took control of the situation she stopped dodging and gave herself into the kiss completely.
And then it felt like we were made for each other. Neither of us could let go. We were kissing deeper and deeper until the need for air became almost unbearable. Only then we parted slightly and gasped for breath.

“I’m afraid I won’t behave respectably from now on”, I whispered, making one last attempt for decency.

“Good, I thought you’d never stop…” she answered delighted.

When I put my hands around her waist and lifted her, she supported me by actually jumping up and bringing her legs around me. Luckily her deck - the name we sailors have for the accommodations - was pretty different from the ones on my ship. It had carpet on the floor and the bunks - or beds - were double stacked instead of triple. But by far the best difference was the table between the two pairs of beds.

Kissing furiously again I managed to navigate into the right direction until I felt the edge of that table at my thighs. Then I leaned down and grinned, when she broke the kiss and gasped from the cold, wooden surface touching her bare back.
When she partially released me from the embrace of her arms, I took my time to take in the sight.

Her brown hair was sprawled on the table around her head. It wasn’t a halo, but it was close.
Her eyes sparkled and she bit her bottom lip. Her chest was heaving a bit faster than before and although it wasn’t really cold her cute little nipples were protruding very clearly.
Her belly button was pierced, which I hadn’t noticed before. But my eyes didn’t linger there for long. I just had to look, where I hadn’t dared before.

She was shaved the way it was popular in the mid Nineties. A simple, trimmed landing strip of sparse hair.
When she released my waist with her legs and used her feet to caress my hairy chest I looked up to her face.
She seemed to like the way I adored the beautiful view. And apparently she didn’t care that my six-pack was hidden under some skin.

I used my hands to softly stroke her calves and she shivered. When I lightly kissed her left foot, her lips parted slightly and a soft, little moan escaped them.
Encouraged I used my lips and just the tip of my tongue to slowly explore her skin more closely.

It was soft and smelled like tropical fruits, which had to be her shower gel. But it suited her.
More interesting than what my nose could tell me, was something I discovered after a couple of seconds: she was obviously very sensitive. Her legs were shaved, but I could clearly see her skin reacting, anyway. And her slightly quickened breathing was a signal on it's own.
When I reached the side of her knee her hands had taken a firm grip at the edges of the table. Her lips were parted, her eyes half closed and her nipples had definitely hardened further. Looking up to her face I got the impression that she was indecisive if she should tell me to stop teasing or to just carry on.

She was making cute, little sounds now, every time my lips touched her skin. And I took my time, but got inevitably closer to the source of a completely different and rather intoxicating smell.
Her lower lips caught my attention then. At first they were completely closed with only the slightest hint of an opening, but then they slowly blossomed and revealed the glistening, moist inside of her womanhood.
To me it looked like a beautiful flower, no mere rose or orchid could ever stand the comparison. And that was only in part because of being my first, really close look at it. Mostly it was just… her.

I took my time to memorize everything while slowly kissing her thigh and getting closer.
The way her legs trembled a tiny bit, the vision of her taut belly and her somewhat concentrated face behind the two enticing hills of her bosom, the sound of her breathing and the little sighs she made every now and then… Even the rather cold and spartan atmosphere of the room was part of that experience.
But the most important impression of all was the look in her eyes half begging me to move faster and half ordering me not to.

It was this look that led me to plant a small kiss on each of her lower lips and then move to her other thigh to draw it out a bit longer. And I think my shit eating grin when she moaned a bit frustrated and wiggled her ass invitingly didn’t go unnoticed.
She was just one or two seconds short of pleading - or demanding - when I added my hands to the picture.
Feeling my fingertips brushing lightly over the outsides of her hips made her momentarily shudder and sigh. Anticipation took over once again.

Frankly, I was nothing short of proud that I managed to spare her mound and concentrate on her delicate reactions.
I wasn’t completely inexperienced. At least regarding sex. But this wasn’t just fucking.
To me it was like skipping a class or two and attempting an advanced course. And the only guideline here was something I overheard once in a bar, when one girl told another:

If I could change one thing in men it would be their fucking determination to touch and maim. Boobs first, pussy second, then insert dick and ole, ole. Why do they understand a motors need to warm up and can’t bring that knowledge to bear with a woman? Is it too much that I ask for the same treatment that his friggin’ car gets every damn Saturday?</i>”

Well… I wasn’t into cars much, but I didn’t need further explanation. But neither did I have a willing female to practice. Until now that is…
Therefore I took a deep breath or three every second and fought the urge to… maim something. Or to go any direct way, when there also was a detour.
And y’know what?! I pretty much loved it from the spot.

Kristanna reacted to the barest brush of my fingertips or lips in a way I never got from another woman. Her belly rippled any time I decided to put the slightest pressure into my touch and she almost jumped, when my tongue darted out or I decided to nibble on her skin a bit.
Her legs twitched whenever I hinted on closing in to the center. And her knuckles were white from the vise-like grip she had on the table.
Then she began to moan and mumble something in Norwegian. Looking up to her face she had her eyes closed and bit her lower lip fiercely.

It just seemed like the right moment to brush my nose along her thigh in a swift motion, until my mouth was in striking distance to her pussy. A clearly visible sheen of wetness seemed to betray some readiness there.
At the same time I brought my hands up a little and trailed the outlines of her breasts. I just couldn’t resist touching them anymore.
Her body arched upwards when her back completely left the table. Before I could react I held her round boobs firmly in my hands. And she sighed something which could well have been: “Finally!”

For a moment or ten I reveled in the feeling of holding those two orbs. Then Kristana got anxious again and wiggled her chest a bit, as if she wanted my hands to move.

“I’ll beg,” she moaned, “I’ll promise to do everything, but if you don’t stop teasing me, I’ll scream…”

I didn’t miss the pleading tone in her voice. And I didn’t want her to scream. At least not from frustration.
And in fact I was already gritting my teeth in an attempt to control myself. Her pussy was directly in front of my face and there was nothing - clearly not one damned thing - that I wanted more than to stick my tongue out and fucking taste her.
When I finally did exactly that, it was a revelation.

The intoxicating smell was a mere hint of the real thing. When I easily parted her lips and drove into the valley between them with my tongue, is was like tropical fruits meeting something salty with a hint of musk and a whole lot of something named Kristanna. I was instantly hooked.
She gasped, then sighed and exhaled relieved. I could see her body going rigid and she pressed her chest up against my hands.
The moment the tip of my tongue finally touched the point just beneath her little nub, she groaned happily.

“Krissy?”

A female voice  accompanied the sound of the opening door in my back in that very second. It was followed by the part of a question in Norwegian, as far as I could tell.
Kristanna jerked and I froze in shock, which brought her clit and my tongue directly together. She squealed and then snapped a few harsh words to whomever had interrupted us. I didn’t understand that either, but it was pretty obviously something along the lines of ‘not now, the fuck’.

Most likely into my direction she immediately added: “Don’t you dare to stop that!”

The other girl realized the situation fast, because she called out: “Whoops! I didn’t see anything” and seemed to turn on her heel. The door fell shut a moment later.

Normally I would have been ashamed and rather confused after that. I wasn’t much of a lady-killer to start with and pretty shy in ‘special’ situations. But I had just tasted the fantastic juice of an absolutely gorgeous woman and touched her clitoris with the tip of my tongue.
I did the only thing my slightly overloaded brain was able to command me to do. I pressed my mouth onto her opening and began to suck slightly. I needed more of that…

Krissy’s upper body fell back onto the table and she couldn’t suppress a startled yelp. Then she moaned something I didn’t need to understand, for the sound of it told everything I had to know. And her hand grabbing my hair and pulling me closer wasn’t that hard to decipher, too.

To be honest I had no conscious idea of what to do next. It really was the first time of my life I went down on a woman. But my partner in this exercise wasn’t stingy with feedback. She clearly showed me whenever I hit a good spot.
And then there was the smell in my nostrils and even more so the taste in my mouth. Something I had no intention to let go of for the next year or two.

I vaguely remembered some comrades talking about the best way to eat a pussy out. They were confident that an important lesson was not to linger in one spot. Variation was the key to success.
But Kristanna taught me a completely different lesson.
As I started to try out different ways to play with my tongue, she whimpered a bit moved her hips. When I didn’t get the hint, she tried a less subtle approach.

“Stop teasing, please,” she mewled. “My kitty’s gonna explode.”

It took me a second to understand that. It wasn’t her normal, clear and almost accent free English. She seemingly gritted her teeth.
But then I got it. It wasn’t ‘kitty’ but ‘clitty’! Which had to be…

I abandoned all other lessons and completely followed her lead. In long, straight strokes I parted her lower lips and reached up to the little nub and back again.
Almost involuntary my fingers found two corresponding protrusions further up on her body and twirled them.
Kristanna straightened immediately and almost stopped breathing.

I realized that I didn’t need any guidance apart of that she gave so freely. Most likely there was no way to learn ‘doing girls’, but on the job. And that way I learned a big deal.
Her body was almost hovering above the table. Whenever I started my long strokes at her center her belly went rippling, as her muscles strained to hold the tension. And when I hit the spot she almost flinched.
It had to be very intense.

I didn’t count, but it were more than a dozen slow strokes before she twitched almost violently and opened her eyes.
The look she gave me was indescribable. A vision of her innermost soul, cleared like after crying, but without the sadness which accompanies that. I completely understood notions like ‘windows to the soul’ and ‘most intimate moment’ then.

“Gjør det!”
She panted and pressed the incomprehensible words past her gritted teeth.
It was some kind of demand. But I wouldn’t have gotten it without the hint her eyes gave me. They locked on my groin and I finally understood.
But I didn’t react immediately.

There were my doubts again. The curse of self loathing struck and I just had to ask myself, if I could live up the expectations. Would it be… well… big enough? Would she laugh?
Stupid? I know that now. It was one of that moments when it didn’t matter anymore. And I wasn’t exactly tiny over there. But having inferiority complexes over almost two decades left scars.
Fortunately Kristanna didn’t realize that. Or she didn’t care…

“Please”, she begged. “I need! Inside me! You!”

Believe it or not, but it was exactly her last word, which released the tension.
She was losing her self control and was getting frantic. Because of… me!

With the practiced ease of somebody who has to change clothes pretty often and sometimes pretty fast, I opened my belt and sent my trousers and underwear down.
Then I took hold of her hips to lift her a bit and bring her closer to the edge of the table. Just pulling seemed uncomfortable to me because of her bare skin on the surface.
She nodded her appreciation constantly, while I did that. Her eyes were fixed on mine and almost sparkled from excitement.

Some instinct or whatnot took over. My world shrunk and centered on those two shining stars in her face, when I closed the distance and bent over.
I wanted everything at once, but kissing her again was clearly the top priority. Even more so than sticking my dick into her pussy.

Thanks to some physics that wasn’t a problem, though.
The table was exactly the right height and her legs were already parted and bent up. And I was as ready as a man could get.
When I bent over and my hands slid over her sides and breasts up to her neck, it happened without further ado. As if we were made for each other, the head of my cock touched her center and anatomy and the wetness of her juices guided me home.

As I said: I wasn’t a virgin or anything. But my experiences were scarce and compared to this they were rather lame.
Until now sex had seemed to be exiting, but didn’t live up to the expectations. Especially if you happened to do it with girls who ‘let you have your way’. Since it was expected. Since you were a couple.
Maybe it had been my fault. At least in parts. Bad foreplay and stuff… But that didn’t make the rather dull experiences any better.

And now I experienced passion and lust and the whole program at once.
I felt her soft wetness give way and my cockhead penetrating the tightness behind. I felt her trembling and heard her gasping.
For a second she stopped breathing, when I opened her up. Then she almost sobbed and sighed relieved.

It was a wondrous voyage into some mysterious land I had never visited. And it felt really different and absolutely great.
Her insides rippled slightly when I penetrated her deeply. I felt her along the whole length of my shaft, when I lifted her upper body a bit to reach her face.
Half upright she slid her legs around my hips and locked them behind my butt. At the same time her hands reached for my head. She was as eager to kiss as I was.

Our lips pressed together and our tongues intertwined as our bodies had done. We didn’t stop until both of us needed to come up for air.
That was the moment she giggled a bit and the look in her eyes got a little bit mischievous.

“I never liked a hairy chest,” she acclaimed. “How could I miss the lovely effect of those hairs on my nipples?”

I could have gotten self-conscious again, but somehow I didn’t. I just grinned back and moved my upper body to the sides a bit.
She shivered and the mischief left her expression. It got replaced with something serious and determined.

“Would you…” She hesitated.
“Would you just… do me for once? I’ll make it up to you later, but for now I need to get fucked senseless pretty bad.”

Somewhere back in my head the question, why a woman should have to make up for that went by unheard.
I wasn’t even capable of giving a witty answer. Or any answer at all.
Somehow at peace with myself I laid her back onto the table and placed her hands at the edges again. She understood perfectly and took a grip.
Then I brought my hands to the insides of her knees and she let go of my hips. Apparently she knew exactly what I was up to. Even if I didn’t know myself.

Her legs ended up bent, until her knees touched her proud bosom with her support. Her encouraging nods where all I needed then.
For the first time I concentrated entirely on what was going on between our lower bodies. I draw back slowly and observed my cock leaving her pussy.
The wet sheen on my dick was as fascinating as the soft ripples going through her loins.

I didn’t pull out completely. I didn’t want to.
She gave me some really encouraging nods when I looked up then. And I watched her face closely, when I just rammed my hips forward again.

I almost fainted myself. Her tightness gripped me immediately and I felt an intense wave of pleasure. But Kristanna reacted in a way I couldn’t miss.
Her sharp intake of breath ended, when I grounded out deep inside her. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes first. Then they opened again and stared to the ceiling, when she went rigid and her back arched.

“Ah-hah!” she gasped and then some breathless words, whimpered in Norwegian.

The next thing happening nearly gave me a heart attack.

“She said: Gods, yes! Just like this. Fuck me like this.”

The voice came from the back on my right side and was clearly female and probably identical with the woman who rushed into the room some minutes… or hours earlier.
Apparently she hadn’t left as expected. And apparently she didn’t mind not only to watch, but to take an active part as well.
I really didn’t know how to react or what to do next…

Kristanna also heard it and her head came down. With a furious expression in her eyes she looked past my side and opened her mouth to say something.
I never found out what it would have been. Instead I felt the touch of bare skin at my butt pressing me forward. And since I had withdrawn a bit in shock I now slammed home again.

Kristanna immediately whined in pleasure, since this time my thrust was especially hard.
I didn’t get any chance to think about hurting her, even if it didn’t sound that way. My mind got occupied by other things.

“That’s the way she loves it. See?”
The unknown Norwegian woman whispered the words into my ear and her clearly naked body pressed to my side.
My brain went into overdrive again and I lost the connection to reality.

“Draw back and slam it home again. Make her scream and fuck her senseless.”

I’ve got no excuse but serious input overload for doing exactly as she said. I draw back half way and rammed forward again. And Kristanna howled her appreciation.
Apparently she didn’t care for the other woman anymore. Her head fell back again and she began to whisper incomprehensible things.
Only this time I got an simultaneous translation directly into my right ear.

“Gods, I love your cock. Fuck me harder. Tell him to fuck me harder.”

It was odd to hear the almost calm voice of another woman like a synchronization for the breathless words from my lovers lips. Odd and… unbelievably hot!

“Take her legs onto your arms an grab her tits,” I got advised. “She likes it rough, so don’t hold back.”

I felt like remote controlled when I did as I was told.
I didn’t grab viciously, but I got a good grip on her firm boobs and Kristanna winced, but also moaned appreciatively. Before she wailed in ecstasy again, that is.

I didn’t stop the motions of my hips anymore. But it wasn’t exactly because of some instinctively reaction. It was because of the hand and belly on my butt clearly directing my forward movements. And because of the hand which somehow had sneaked around and now softly grabbed the base of my cock and my balls to direct the backward motion.

“Yes, like that. Pull my nipples,” the translation went on.

And obviously only for my ears she added: “Don’t hold back anymore. Fuck her harder. But don’t you dare to cum!”

Free will or rebelling against that seductress in my back weren’t possibilities anymore. I didn’t even want to have a choice.
I grabbed the nipples of sweet Kristanna and twirled them rather hard. And I also did as I was told and rammed my cock into her tight pussy with a vengeance. Only if I would be able to resist cuming was in question.

I mean… C’mon… I wasn’t some kind of robot or something…
In front of me the cutest and most beautiful woman of my life was writhing in ecstasy and screaming in her passion without restraint. Every thrust of mine seemed to drive her a little bit more into oblivion. Our bodies slapped together noisily and our rumping made really wet, squishing sounds. And did I mention that I pulled her nipples almost violently and she fucking loved it?

And apart of that there was another woman in my back. And from the feel of things she was not only pretty hot herself, but she also constantly whispered lots of dirty things into my ear. Plus… she rubbed her breasts at my back and her pubis against my upper leg.
Regarding endurance I was in some serious trouble.

That I didn’t blow my load that very moment was not due to me trying to control myself.
In fact I didn’t even think about that. I was completely focused on fucking that gorgeous body in front of me.
The two things working together to prevent my immanent ejaculation were that little minx in my back and Kristanna herself.
The former because her pulling at my balls seemed to hinder my orgasm and the latter because she simply was first.

Looking back from today I doubt that I had witnessed a female orgasm to that point. But on the other hand what I experienced there may have been a bit out of comparison.
The wonderful brunette on the table in front of me got louder with every thrust of mine, until she stopped making sounds altogether. It was then that my unknown directress signaled me not to move anymore by pressing her whole tiny weight into my back.

“Tell her to come for you,” she cooed.

“Come for me, Kristanna,” I croaked hoarsely.

A wailing “Goooods!” was the answer.

Kristanne went completely rigid and I could clearly see waves of ripples on her belly. But the most obvious sign of her orgasm was the way her inner muscles spasmed around my cock. Without the knowing grip at my balls I wouldn’t have lasted any longer.
The very second Kristanna slackened back onto the table, my unknown guide was by my side and bodily moved me out of the way to bend over the table and her comrade.
I only saw a whirl of blonde hair and then her really appealing backside and one hell of a sexy ass protruding invitingly as she bowed forward.

“Permission?” she asked with great urgency.

“He’s mine…” Kristanna mewled displeased.

“Everybody knows that by now. But I’m gonna die if I don’t get this cock right now.”

I was stunned by that sudden interruption, the conversation and then by the way Kristanna looked up to me.
I could tell hat she was hurt, when she caught me staring at that ass. But her expression lightened up, when my eyes met hers.
I didn’t need to understand why the two of them talked the way they did. I just understood that Kristanna didn’t want to share me and that was enough. Blue balls or not, I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her.
To emphasize that I softly shook my head.

“Oh…” she made, apparently deeply moved. “He’s just to good to be true.”

“Huh?” her friend asked.

“I think he’d really pass up on you.”

I nodded the very moment the blonde revealed her face while looking back.
It took me some moments to realize the similarities between the two women. Hair color and style apart they could have been…
What struck me then was some kind of super tanker moving at full speed right into my tiny lifeboat.

“C’mere, my hero,” Kristanna cooed and reached for my hand.

Dumbstruck I stepped a little closer.

“Not at her side, sailor,” she giggled. “Step up behind her.”

“But…”

“Just don’t ever leave my eyes,” she shushed me.

Since I wasn’t exactly thinking straight or thinking at all I just did what I was told.
Bah… Who wouldn’t, eh?

“Payback time, sis,” Kristanna whispered and took hold of her wrists.
“I bet she’s dripping wet,” she added into my direction.

I realized far too late that I parted the ass cheeks of another woman in front of the one I just recently had the luck to fuck. But she apparently didn’t mind anymore.
My eyes must have given away the hot wetness I found, because my brunette lover grinned even before I nodded my confirmation of her assumption about the state of her sisters arousal.

Then she gestured me to pin the blonde little minx on the table with my hand and again I did so immediately. I felt kinda hypnotized by the almost devilish sparkle in Kristannas eyes.
It was a sight I’ll never, ever forget when my first lover got on her knees on the table and slipped forward, until she knelt over her sisters hips. There was her wonderful body, sheeted with sweat from our recent fucking. Her pert nipples almost red from the treatment they got and her face flushed from her orgasm. And did I mention her glistening wet pussy almost touching the skin of another hot body?

And there was that other body prone on the table with her ass protruding invitingly. Her boobs pressed on the hard surface, but clearly visible at her sides. Her arms somewhere above her head. Completely helpless…
And my hand was feeling up her trembling pussy wile her fast panting filled the room.
I clearly was in porn heaven!

Kristanna bent forward to offer me a kiss I happily accepted. Meanwhile her hands took hold of the ass cheeks of her sister and parted them.

“Fuck that bitch,” she growled aggressively. “Fuck her even harder than you did me. She fucking deserves it!”

Completely lost in her eyes I stepped up to that ass between us. I didn’t need much guidance due to the perfect position and the other girls thighs. My cock had only one direction to go and that was directly into her steaming pussy.
This time was eerily familiar and completely different at the same time. She was as tight as her sister and maybe even wetter, but I wasn’t cautiously testing.
As soon as the tip of my cock was inside, I penetrated further, until our bodies met.

The panting from behind Kristannas back became frantic immediately and single words or parts thereof slipped from the lips of our… victim.
Again I didn’t get more than a general sense of strong appreciation. I have to confess that I grew fond of this particularly passionate examples of the Norwegian language.

A loud, smacking sound caught me by surprise. As well as the tremble going through the insides of… I didn’t even know her name…
I realized that Kristanna had given her butt a serious slap. Nothing playful considering the loud yelp of her sister.

“Punishment,” she whispered, answering my astonished expression. Adding unbelievably coyly: “You may give her some, too…”

The way her devilish impression got soft for a second and she almost submissively offered me to spank her sister got me groaning.
I gripped her neck and pulled her into a vicious kiss. I really felt not only manly, but aggressively so. And I didn’t feel that way very often those days…

Kristanna and her sister started moaning together, when I kissed the one on top while slowly starting to rump the other. Their voices were different, but now the similarities got obvious.
My brunette lovers hands came up to caress my neck and head while our tongues played furiously and I felt like the one and only man on earth in that moment. A beautiful woman was hungrily kissing me and rubbing her nipples at my chest and another one moaned and panted faster and louder with every thrust of my dick into her tight, wet pussy.
Blonde and brunette and sisters. Adam getting a chance to do Eva and Lilith together…

Jaja… Pathetic, I know… But try to put yourself into my shoes for a second.

“Finish her fast,” Kristanna breathed. “I can’t wait to have you again.”

“Aye!” her sister groaned, panting heavily, “Finish me hard. And punish me for something…”

Grinning together, my first and foremost lover and I simultaneously took a swing and slapped both of her cheeks. Her howling was clearly of mixed pleasure and pain.
Then I took hold of her hips and stepped up the speed and momentum of my thrusts a couple of paces. And Kristanna brought one of her hands between her legs to play with her clit in the rhythm of my rumping.
Our foreheads touched and I felt her hard, little pants in my face. Our eyes were firmly locked.

There was no way that I could last much longer. And obviously my face clearly gave that away.
I really tried to think about something to control myself a bit longer, but I felt the boiling in my balls and knew it wouldn’t work out. Only stopping for a while would maybe give me some more minutes.
But Kristanna didn’t help me with that. Instead she tempted me to simply let go.

“Cum into that filthy little cunt,” she cooed.

“Not… helpful,” I groaned.

“Fill that pussy with your hot spunk,” she went further, ignoring my pleading tone.

“Ja!” her sister joined in. “Fill me up!”

All rules about women apparently didn’t apply for this two minxes. And I hadn’t any resistance to start with, to withstand such things.
I even felt a little ashamed for a moment, when I couldn’t hold back anymore. With one last thrust I got balls deep into her tight hotness and groaned in pleasure, while I filled her up as she had requested.

The shame became pride, when I felt her insides tremble and her moaning increased in volume and frequency.
Believe it or not, but she apparently came from my orgasm.

With that I thought the weirdest experience of my life would come to an end. I had no idea what of was waiting for me.
Exhausted I just needed to sit down and I chose the floor, since the was no chair closer than two steps away. And that was one step to much for my trembling legs.

Kristanna got up from her sisters back and the table and stood there looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite get the meaning of.
Her sister sat up and brought her damp hair out of her face. At first she grinned and gave me a wink. Then she saw the expression on Kristannas face and got serious.

I didn’t get anything from the ensuing discussion except the name of the blonde - Aurora.
That and the impression of rather serious girls talk. Ah… well… And maybe the hint that I was at least part of the topic.

Since I couldn’t understand any word I just took my time to secretly compare the two ladies, who didn’t seem to care that they were butt naked.
But then again… I had just recently fucked both of them. So why should they care anymore?
And why the fuck didn’t I care for being naked not only by one woman - who at least had taken her time to convince me that she wouldn’t object - but two?

I hadn’t even realized until now that Aurora didn’t seem to mind the least.
In fact I caught her stealing glimpses. Just like I did with her and her sister.
What the fuck was going on here?

“Just let’s ask him,” Kristanna interrupted their slowly heating argument. “He is the one to answer that question.”

“You will not like the answer, sis,” Aurora sinisterly predicted.

“Given the opportunity,” Kristanna started, ignoring her sisters words, “would you like to have another chance with both of us or would you rather choose one above the other?”

There was a big, fat warning bell including flashlights in my head, when I heard that question. I instinctively knew that this was a trap. But I was young, inexperienced and tired. And I had this honesty streak back then I never really could get rid of.
Therefore I promptly answered: “I would love to get a chance with the two of you again.”

Auroras head snapped back to her sister triumphantly and Kristanna lowered her head with a sad expression. But I didn’t notice that immediately, because I was trying hard to get the following out politely.

“But with all respect and affection I feel for you, regarding the very short time we know each other, Aurora,” I carried on quietly, “I would always pick Kristanna first and wouldn’t have… done you without her permission. Or in fact without her coaxing me into that, since I got the impression that she didn’t like the thought in the first place.”

There was a short moment of complete silence afterwards.
Then Aurora asked almost aghast: “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I nodded and Kristanna said: “See? I told you…”

But Aurora didn’t listen to her sister. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and for once I got the impression that she could be really mean, if she wanted to.

“And what do you think will happen, after your ship is going back to Germany?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Wenn du meiner Schwester wehtust, reiße ich dir dein Herz raus,” she acclaimed.
In perfect, fluent German she told me that she would rip out my heart if I would hurt her sister. And going by the look of her face she was serious.
Now it was me who was aghast.

“Stop menacing my boyfriend,” Kristanna snapped.

She didn’t seem to understand my native tongue. At least not as well as her sister did. But she clearly got her tone.
In fact she got the meaning of her sisters words much faster than Aurora and me got the latter half of her words.
When we both felt our jaws drop and started staring at her, Kristanna grinned pretty confidently.

“Some guys I hoped to marry turned out to be shitheads after a couple of days. So why not take a week with somebody who has proven his worth?” she asked with a shit eating grin. “If he doesn’t object, that is…”

Her addition was rhetorical and she knew it. She didn’t even wait with coming over and kneeling in front of me to snuggle into my arms, before she said that.

And that was how one of the most astounding weeks of my life started.

Not only until then, but over all…

Samstag, 18. August 2012

Vom Wert und Wesen des Kommentars


Dank meinem eifrigsten Kommentator hier - dem lieben Leviathan - will ich mich heute mal ein wenig über Kommentare auslassen.
Und den Anfang mache ich damit, dass ich diesem lieben Leviathan ganz sachte am Ohr zupfe, denn er schrieb Folgendes:
danken wofür? das ich ein zu grosses glas senf habe und demnach meinen senf unter die leute bringe?

Ganz genau dafür hast du den Dank verdient, Levi.
Und das gilt für alle Kommentatoren, denn sehr viele Leser haben ein sehr kleines Glas Senf. Der sie haben gar keinen im Haus. Und deswegen erfahre ich selten oder nie, was sie eigentlich über meine Geschichten denken.

Kommentare sind der Dialog mit dem, was meine Geschichten brauchen, um einen Sinn zu ergeben - dem Leser.
Ich schreibe Teil für Teil meiner Geschichten, stelle sie online und schreibe dann weiter. Aber sobald ich etwas veröffentlicht habe, schaue ich besonders am Anfang immer wieder nach, welche Reaktionen es gibt. Ich schaue, ob ich Bewertungen auf den Portalen bekomme, bei denen diese Funktion existiert. Und ich schaue nach Kommentaren. Vor allem nach Kommentaren.

Ich bemühe mich, jedem Kommentator zu danken. Denn ich weiß mittlerweile, dass schon allein einen Kommentar zu verfassen ein Schritt ist, den viele einfach nicht machen mögen.
Das hat nicht unbedingt was mit Faulheit zu tun. Manchmal weiß man auch einfach nicht, was man genau sagen soll. Und ‚Toll, danke‘ klingt so mager. Das hat mich früher auch oft davon abgehalten, einen Kommentar zu schreiben. Bis ich schließlich selbst zum Autor wurde und lernte, wie unglaublich wichtig die Kommentare sind.

In gewisser Hinsicht sind Kommentare eine Art Bezahlung für die Arbeit, die man als Autor investiert hat.
Bekommt man keine, dann war die Geschichte offenbar keinen müden Cent wert. Bekommt man viele, dann hat die Story offenbar den ‚Geldbeutel‘ ganz gut geöffnet. Also muss sie irgendwie… ‚gut‘ sein.
Und dabei ist esunerheblich wie lang der Kommentar ist. Es kommt nicht darauf an, ob es zwei oder zweihundert Worte sind. Es kommt erst einmal auf den Kommentar selbst an.

Sicherlich freue ich mich über lange, ausführliche Kommentare. Aber das ist nun mal nicht jedermanns Sache. Vielleicht muss ein klein wenig Autor n einem stecken, um solche Kommentare zu verfassen. Oder ein starkes Mitteilungsbedürfnis. Oder vielleicht muss die Geschichte einfach ganz besonders den persönlichen Geschmack dafür getroffen haben.
Mir bedeuten diese Kommentare natürlich viel. Aber - und das ist mir jetzt besonders wichtig - ein kurzer Kommentar, der mich einfach wissen lässt, ob es gefallen hat, bedeutet mir ebenfalls viel!

Ich gehöre nicht zu den - Sorry an dieser Stelle an ein paar liebe Kollegen und Kolleginnen - Mimosen, die sich darüber beschweren, dass die kurzen ‚Geil, weiter so‘ Kommentare ja völlig gehaltlos seien. Ich verstehe durchaus, dass ein Kommentar noch ein weiterer und seltenerer Ausdruck des Gefallens oder Nichtgefallens ist, als der Klick auf ein Sterne-Bewertungssystem.
Es ist eine kleine Mühe, die der Leser auf sich nimmt, um mich zu loben. Und ich weiß das zu schätzen. Ohne Scheiß!

Kommentare sind Treibstoff. Und zwar für meine Schreibmaschine.
Die funktioniert auch ohne diesen Treibstoff, aber so ziemlich jeder wird den Unterschied zwischen den beiden folgenden Beispielen verstehen, denke ich:
Geschichte YXZ - Teil 01 mit 5.000 Worten wird an vier verschiedenen Stellen veröffentlicht und heimst in zwei Wochen drei Kommentare insgesamt ein. Auf allen vier Portalen. In der Zwischenzeit habe ich an ein paar anderen Geschichten weitergearbeitet und nach zwei Wochen habe ich eine vage Idee und etwas Zeit und will mal an XYZ - Teil 02 weiterwerkeln. Aber was muss ich sehen? Drei Kommentare? Sonst nix? Kein großer Anklang, hm? Vielleicht sollte ich meine Zeit lieber in Projekte investieren, die mehr Aufmerksamkeit erregen?
Schaue ich hingegen nach zwei Wochen nach und finde hundert Kommentare - und wenn ich die Portale zusammenzähle, auch denen ich nun bin, ist das durchaus erreichbar - dann sieht die Sache anders aus. Dann haben wir hundert Menschen gesagt, dass sie es gut fanden und mehr wollen. In Worten. Das ist, als würde ich in zwei Wochen hundert SMS erhalten, die mich anstupsen, doch bitte weiterzumachen.
Wir vergleichen das mit drei SMS und ich denke der Unterschied ist klar, oder? ;-D

Aufmerksamkeit ist ein Antrieb. Autoren sind Attention-Whores - Aufmerksamkeits-Huren.
Deswegen kann ich jedem Leser, der gerne mehr von seinen Lieblingsautoren sehen will, nur empfehlen, diese Autoren mit Kommentaren zu überschütten. Kommentiert jede Geschichte. Jeden Teil einer Geschichte. Und sei es mit einem Einzeiler. Bringt euer Gefallen zum Ausdruck. Gebt dem ein erkennbares ‚Like‘. Teilt es mit.


Nun zu der naheliegenden Frage, wie sich das alles mit negativen Kommentaren, scharfer Kritik und Verrissen verträgt: Die Antwort lautet: Es verträgt sich durchaus.

Ich habe kein Problem damit, wenn jemand mir sagt: Das hier hat mir nicht so gut gefallen. Ich frage dann sogar gerne mal nach, was das Problem war.
Oftmals ist es eine reine Geschmacksfrage. Beispielsweise habe ich eine liebe Leserin auf einem Portal, die meinen Stil leiden mag, aber einfach nichts für Analsex übrig hat. Und sie stört sich deswegen ein wenig daran, dass der bei mir doch immer wieder mal gerne eine gewisse Rolle spielt.
Kann man nicht viel machen. Und das ist auch okay so. Aber manchmal kommt dabei dann auch heraus, dass ich beispielsweise viel zu häufig meine Sätze mit ‚Und‘ beginne. Und das ist ein stilistischer Fehler, den ich durchaus abstellenswert finde. Und ohne Feedback hätte ich es wahrscheinlich jahrelang nicht bemerkt, weil ich da einfach betriebsblind bin.

Scharfe Kritik ist da schon ein etwas anderes Kaliber. Bei ihr kommt es darauf an, ob sie sachlich und konstruktiv ist, oder ein Verriss.
Verrisse sind leicht. Man muss einfach nur alle Schwächen einer Story zerpflücken, den Geschmack des Kritikers zum Maß aller Dinge erklären, abschicken und sich über den Einschlag des Torpedos freuen. Deswegen kann ich ehrlich sagen, dass mich Verrisse einen feuchten Dreck interessieren. Und das ich mir von ihnen gar nicht erst die Laune verderben lassen mag, indem ich sie genauer studiere.
Der Effekt, den sie auf mein Vertrauen in die Qualität meiner Stories haben könnten, ist den Gewinn von ein oder zwei Erkenntnissen nicht wert.

Konstruktive Kritik ist auf der anderen Seite Gold wert. Und was sie von Verrissen unterscheidet, ist einfach nur der Umstand, dass der Kritiker bereit ist, mit mir in einen Dialog zu treten. Er greift nicht mich an, sondern die Schwächen meiner Story. Und er ist bereit, mit mir darüber zu sprechen.
Einige Leute werden diesen Unterschied nie begreifen und sich über diesen Teil meines Posts hier tierisch aufregen, aber so ist es nun mal. Und ich brauchte keine Bestätigung von einem Andreas Eschbach, um das zu begreifen. Auch wenn ich die bekommen habe… ;-P

Konstruktive Kritik ist wertvoll. Und meine intensivsten und kommunikationswilligsten Kritiker dieser Art sind mittlerweile meine Betaleser geworden. Aber sie macht auch eine Menge Arbeit. Und ich erwarte das nicht von meinen Lesern, auch wenn ich mich sehr darüber freue.
Was ich erwarte, ist, dass ihr Spaß an meinen Geschichten habt. Falls dem nicht so ist, dann lest sie bitte einfach nicht. Spart euch die Zeit, denn Lesen soll ein Vergnügen sein.
Was ich mir wünsche ist, dass ihr mich wissen lasst, ob es gefallen hat. Aber ich nehme es keinem übe, wenn er oder sie dafür nicht die Zeit, die Lust oder von mir aus auch die technischen Voraussetzungen hat (beispielsweise wegen der Verwendung eines Handys).

Das hier ist ein Appell. Aber mehr auch nicht.
Niemand bekommt eine rote Karte (oder auch nur eine gelbe), wenn er es völlig ignoriert.
Aber was ihr bekommt, wenn ihr von nun an doch mal einen Kommentar mehr schreibt, ist auf jeden Fall Dank. ;-)

In diesem Sinne…