PBJ_Time
It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2023
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I learned from a friend that even horny scenes or scenes that imply the horny should still fall under the "show, don't tell" aspect of writing. So, I did my best trying to convey a scene in my latest chapter without using words like "meat wand" or phrases like "breasting boobily down the stairs." Here's an excerpt:
Now, tell me, does it truly convey the scene I wanted to show instead of tell? I'm afraid that if I keep this us, no one will understand me.
“Here’s to Hajime, still being the same, just the way we like him!” said Tokiwa, smiling with her other hand pressed against her chest. “And here’s to my lovely husband, whom I’ll never get tired of carrying to our bed after a rowdy drinking game of who can name the most spell attacks!”
Haruto cleared his throat immediately after the one discrepancy in her statement. “Umm, technically, I’m still not your husband.”
“Just roll with it, babe, or I’ll be milking your ‘P-spot’ double time tonight,” Tokiwa retorted, eyes closed with a pout on her cheeks.
“Well, I’m the one who took both your virginities first, so that means I’m the strongest in that field.”
“Nuh-uh! I went full animal with your happy place for ten minutes before we did the deed. I’ll always surpass you in every field!”
“That doesn’t count, and besides, you should’ve—”
Little did they know that Hajime would give his throat the loudest call for attention in the room. He’d do it again until the heat death of the universe if he must. “Could you guys please take all these tensions back to the sheets? I feel like beating your heads with a wooden bat.”
Tokiwa returned to her seat, placing the glass on its designated coaster. “My apologies, Orca. We didn’t mean anything by it, but I must say, I thought you were the last person to complain about such things. Remember what you did during our summer break?”
Hajime predicted she’d move to the one subject that plunged their school to an endless shock. He wanted to experience a different kind of fun in what started out as a non-risque awareness stream for people like him—people who didn’t care whether the backsides and knockers they got to enjoy came from the metaphysical Mars or Venus. He never regretted setting it to private except for his most loyal followers, having everything to do with shameless pleasure.
Despite the sensation returning to him like an orgasmic bullet train, the idea of three former delinquents who came out of the closet offering him a “spit roast” before the ladies joined in was admittedly too spicy for his budding exploration. Perhaps it wasn’t just the lightning coursing through his veins that wanted things to speed up. Even the noisy springs of his mattress remained in his memories with each admittedly semi-decent thrust.
“That was for charity,” said Hajime, hunched over his chair with a shrug. “I paid them all 5,000 yen at the end of the week. It was time for our aging, decrepit, small-minded ‘leaders’ to see the bigger picture and hear our voices. They never cared about us, but we stood loud and proud.”
Haruto cleared his throat immediately after the one discrepancy in her statement. “Umm, technically, I’m still not your husband.”
“Just roll with it, babe, or I’ll be milking your ‘P-spot’ double time tonight,” Tokiwa retorted, eyes closed with a pout on her cheeks.
“Well, I’m the one who took both your virginities first, so that means I’m the strongest in that field.”
“Nuh-uh! I went full animal with your happy place for ten minutes before we did the deed. I’ll always surpass you in every field!”
“That doesn’t count, and besides, you should’ve—”
Little did they know that Hajime would give his throat the loudest call for attention in the room. He’d do it again until the heat death of the universe if he must. “Could you guys please take all these tensions back to the sheets? I feel like beating your heads with a wooden bat.”
Tokiwa returned to her seat, placing the glass on its designated coaster. “My apologies, Orca. We didn’t mean anything by it, but I must say, I thought you were the last person to complain about such things. Remember what you did during our summer break?”
Hajime predicted she’d move to the one subject that plunged their school to an endless shock. He wanted to experience a different kind of fun in what started out as a non-risque awareness stream for people like him—people who didn’t care whether the backsides and knockers they got to enjoy came from the metaphysical Mars or Venus. He never regretted setting it to private except for his most loyal followers, having everything to do with shameless pleasure.
Despite the sensation returning to him like an orgasmic bullet train, the idea of three former delinquents who came out of the closet offering him a “spit roast” before the ladies joined in was admittedly too spicy for his budding exploration. Perhaps it wasn’t just the lightning coursing through his veins that wanted things to speed up. Even the noisy springs of his mattress remained in his memories with each admittedly semi-decent thrust.
“That was for charity,” said Hajime, hunched over his chair with a shrug. “I paid them all 5,000 yen at the end of the week. It was time for our aging, decrepit, small-minded ‘leaders’ to see the bigger picture and hear our voices. They never cared about us, but we stood loud and proud.”
