Promises, Progress and Payoff...

Episodic series are fairly simple then in terms of PPP. Each episode is going to promise, progress, and then payoff its own particular storylines and there doesn't have to be anything particularly carried over between story submissions. There can be arcs for characters -- are our sex-mad couple going to eventually settle down and get married? (and will the taste of a single slice of wedding cake immediately kill both their libidos stone dead?) But for the main part, we're enjoying the characters here and now, doing what they do.

Story series are a little more tricky. If we start off the first few chapters with an unmarried sex-mad couple having fun in various locations, where is the final goal of the story? Is it them getting married? Are we still going to be following them through having kids? Is everything so far just an extended prologue and the story is eventually going to be about how they discover the joys of same-room cuckolding seven years and thirty chapters into their marriage?

It's not always clear. To be honest, it's not always clear that some writers know, on day one, where their characters are going to end up. And, as you're probably getting sick of me saying, that's fine if it all works. There are people who are happy setting out on a journey with no particular destination in mind and no care as for how long it takes them, as long as they are enjoying it.

Still, it doesn't always work, and it's not uncommon to be reading a Literotica story and be wondering where this is all going and how long it's going to take to get there.

A while ago, I read and gave feedback, on a gentle story about a new couple meeting exploring their BDSM sides at a beach house. The first part started on a Friday. They met at a company party, hit it off and by the end of the chapter had engaged in naughty sex and she was invited to stay for the weekend. He was technically her boss, so there were some issues about whether the relationship was viable or appropriate which I was interested in how they were going to resolve. Part two detailed the kinky sex they had on the Saturday morning as well as them going out to lunch. Part three detailed the kinky sex they had on the Saturday afternoon and evening as well as the romantic walk they took along the beach. Part four detailed the kinky sex they had on Sunday morning and by this point, while I was enjoying a lot about the characters and writing, I was lost in terms of progress. Are they ever going to get to Monday morning, have to go into work, and sort out the ethical issues of their relationship, or is the story just going to end once the weekend is over with either a happy or sad ending? There was a fair number of different kinks being worked through, and in terms of the heroine's journey of sexual discovery, progress was plentiful. I just felt increasingly annoyed by the lack of progress in their life and the speed with which time was moving.

This can happen a lot with erotic stories. There is, or at least there should be, a certain amount of excitement the first time a couple has sex. The second time..., well, not always so much. Especially if the sex the first time was incredibly mind-blowingly perfect. If you've established that the couple are sexually compatible and described their hot, sweaty bodies in detail, then it can be hard doing the same thing again and again in each chapter. Having the characters change locations, clothes, positions, and especially kinks, can help, but it can be very easy for your characters to get stuck in a rut while rutting.

Progressing your Promises

As your story progresses, readers are going to be subconsciously keeping track of your promises and ticking off each element as they go along. If you've promised them a bondage scenario, then even just the mention of some unused rope lying around on the deck of the yacht may be enough to reassure them that, yes, the heroine is going to get tied up, maybe even quite soon.

In terms of plot, all but the very simplest and shortest of stories are going to have a whole bunch of promises made. If you imagine an ordinary dating scenario, you may have a story built around a few basic scenes -- boy meets girl, boy asks girl out, boy and girl go on first date, boy and girl end up in bed. As your story follows this basic path, the reader is going to be pretty confident that things are progressing.

Of course, the path of love never did run smooth, especially in literature, for if it did, we'd have some pretty boring stories. There should probably be at least a little conflict in each of the above scenes. These little conflicts should generally match the main conflict to a certain degree. If the central conflict is that he's a nerd, each scene should mirror this somehow (They meet when the chess club and the pole-dancing society double-book the same room on campus). Nevertheless, at the end of each stage, we've reached some kind of checkpoint (They now know each other exists and he has proven capable by repairing the pole after she broke it doing a triple axel twist into upside down thigh hang.)

If the characters started as strangers, you'll probably see some progress in terms of what they know about each other and what we, the readers know about them.

There's also going to be progress in terms of intimacy. One of my beta readers is a master of this. Halfway through a story, perhaps at the date section above, I'll write 'She put her coat on' and he'll just add a comment which says, 'No, He took her coat and placed it over her shoulders'. These little touches can be a great way to show that two people are moving towards a physical relationship.

You hopefully haven't ignored the hotness promise. Your female main character doesn't need to have entered a wet T-shirt competition, but hopefully, something she's done in the last three pages has served to highlight her hotness. I think one of the dangers of those long, extensive character descriptions at the start of stories is that the character is instantly as hot as can be. Instead of describing her perfectly round ass in paragraph two, why not wait until she bends down to pick up a sea-shell on the beach walk for the hero to fully contemplate just how magnificent it is.

When my ladies do eventually get naked, I often add in details about the size and shape of their nipples and areolas. That's because there's a lot of variation. It's perfectly fine to write that she has great tits the moment she appears on the page, but for those finer details, well, you never know quite what you're getting until she's finally disrobing.

This goes equally for the men. A lot of stories like to blow their load early by telling you that he's six-foot tall and has a twelve-inch cock. Well, talk about spoiling the surprise for a lady! Penises should be a box of chocolates, she never knows what she's going to get until she puts it in her mouth.

(Of course if you're writing in male first-person perspective, starting off with 'I have a twelve-inch cock' isn't the most modest of introductions. Maybe let her gasps of awe tell the dear readers on page four.)

The point is, make sure there's enough hotness to go round every page of your story.

Tone is also something to keep track of. Horror builds. Farce, if done properly, builds. Erotic tension should build until the two characters are ripping each other's clothes of. It's okay, indeed, necessary, to have downtime between the peaks to set up the next bit and build the comedy/terror/suspense back up, but if you're writing horror and you haven't done anything remotely scary the whole chapter, well, you're not probably not making progress within the tone of your story.

I tend to work from a plan. When I don't work from a plan, I find myself trapped into writing everything that happens to the couple. The couple have just had a hot sexy night together. I need to keep writing so, what is the next thing that happens? I know breakfast. He'll cook it, that's how she knows he's a worthy catch, and she'll prance around in his sweater while they flirt and discuss what happens next. That works for some readers, it's nice and can help fill in some backstory in a low-tension scene. But I recognize it as a potential trap as well and I've seen a lot of writers fall into it. There's no progress. You write a 1,500-word breakfast and the two characters like each other exactly as much as they did at the start of the scene. It's nice that he can make French crepes but she wasn't going to ditch him if he only served up toast and jam. There's no progress. Cut it out and have the story start next Friday when they are on date two -- nobody will be in the least surprised -- at least until her ex-girlfriend turns up and wants to do a MFF threesome and the story actually moves forward.

Payoff

So the payoff is where it all comes together.

Usually, for erotic stories, it's going be with our heroes coming together. But it doesn't have to. If you are writing, say, a horror piece, you might put the sex right before big showdown with whatever cosmic horror you've dreamed up -- giving them a moment of respite and emotional release before they march off to their almost certain deaths.

More usually, though, you'll be answering the question will they, won't they with a definitive they will.

A lot of authors on the Literotica forum complain that they have difficulty writing the sex scenes. Which is odd, because that is kind of the central remit of an erotic author. But at the same time, it's understandable. Plot, character, and location tend to have almost infinite variations. While, if Literotica has taught me anything, it's that proclivities are boundless, at the same time, sex often seems to play out in a lot of the same ways, especially if it's vanilla flavoured.

So how do you land a killer sex scene to finish off your story?

I think part of it, at least for the purposes of this essay, is remembering to write your sex scene with promises, progress and payoff in mind, except writ small this time.

Firstly, what does this sex scene promise the reader? Like the story, there are all kinds of promises it can make. If you can't explain your scene any deeper than 'they have sex and it is good because sex is good' then the story probably isn't working prior to them hooking up.

Once more there may be a kink promise that the hero is finally going to experience. There may be an original or interesting location. There may be danger or the threat of discovery.

Then you are going to have character resolution promises. Our nervous nerd is finally in bed with the girl of his dreams. Our grieving widower is finally going to be able to move on with someone new. Our courageous cuck is finally going to get to see his wife with the man of both their dreams.

And because this is erotica, things are going to go well. In erotica, even when the author chooses the downer ending, the sex is usually amazing.

So things are going to be okay. But that doesn't mean it's going to be easy, and there isn't going to be a challenge. In stories, heroes tend to prevail when they can prove their worth. I'll assume a heteronormative relationship and that the story is told from the male perspective. So we can rest assured that our nerd is going to make the cheerleader cum hard, but he's going to have to work hard to do it. Perhaps his natural, logical problem-solving abilities come to the fore, or maybe in his pursuit of the girl, he's learned things about listening and watching that he's able to apply to stunning effect. But equally, there should probably be two heroes in this story, so equally the cheerleader is going to need to prove she is indeed the right girl by helping him along, offering guidance when necessary, and maybe rethinking some of her stereotypes about masculinity to see the best in him.

As before, there is going to be a progress through the sexual encounter -- from kissing, to undressing, to foreplay, to penetration, to something, to climax.

That something is often where the problem lies.

They fucked and it was good and they fucked a bit faster and it was a bitter better and then they fucked really fast and it was great. And then they came together.

You can spend a paragraph on kissing easily. You can spend a paragraph on undressing and that's about right. Foreplay needs more, but spend a paragraph per body part and you're golden. One more paragraph and he's inside her.

But if your story isn't about premature ejaculation then you'd damn well better write more than a paragraph for this next bit and this is where it can be tricky.

One temptation is to break the emergency glass on the emergency copy of the Kama Sutra and have them spend a hundred words on missionary, a hundred words on doggy, a hundred words on the Seated Ball and a hundred words on the Glowing Juniper.

The problem is, people don't fuck this way.

Actually, maybe some people do. I don't. (But then I'm only really offering tips on writing here...) But often if people are enjoying sex, the last thing they are going to be doing is changing position constantly. It can suggest a lack of rhythm. There's nothing wrong with a bit of adjustment -- legs going up, down, wider, closer, arms going behind backs, cradling heads. That's all to the good. But actually pulling out, getting up and switching it round completely - there's probably a natural limit on how many times you're going to be able to do that -- context dependant on how young, adventurous and connected with the adult video industry your protagonists are.

The other way to pad it out is with some good old-fashioned sex talk. You know the sort of thing:

"Fuck me, fuck me harder. That's right. Oh, God, yes. Oh, fuck me, yes. Oh Christ, yes, that's so good. You're fucking me so well, Oh Mother Mary, fuck yes, you're so deep, fucking hell, Oh Jesus H fucking Christ, fuck yes, fuck fuck fuck fuck don't stop fucking me you fucking horny bastard with your fucking huge fucking dick, Oh, Mathew, Mark, Luke and John, fuck me harder."

And then you look at it and you wonder if you haven't gone a bit far.

A little probably goes a long way. A little is fine. After all, how is our nerd going to know how well things are going if the cheerleader doesn't cuss at him at least a tiny little bit.

It's also not a bad thing to have characters talk to each other like human beings. Stop, think about why these two people are actually having sex and what they are hoping to get out of each other and have them say things. Not particularly long, deep things, but, if our nerd is inexperienced and our cheerleader isn't, then she's going to be leading him, reassuring him and maybe teasing him about his nerves. He may naturally be asking questions.

The other thing about sex is that it's a great time to do some thinking. True, you're probably not going to solve Fermat's Theorem during coitus, but you've probably thought to yourself how did I end up with this person, why do I deserve someone so great, and isn't this a great way to end what's been a tough week at work? Now that the main character has got what, or rather who, they want, the 'pumping away' part of the sex is a great time for them to put this victory into some kind of context. Sex is by nature euphoric and your hero is going to be feeling great about everything that has happened to bring them to this position. If your story is about a sexually frustrated character you can describe why things are better this time -- what is working this time that didn't before? If your character is losing their virginity, you'll probably want to describe it in terms of how they are surprised by things and what does and doesn't meet their expectations. In real life, the first time I ever kissed a girl properly, I was genuinely surprised by how meaty they tasted. I probably shouldn't have been because I was fully aware people are made of flesh, but pop songs and poets had always talked of girl's lips being like cherries or strawberries.

Remember, depending on what type of narrative perspective you're using and the way you are telling the story, that there are opportunities to make your sexual storytelling unique in lots of ways. You don't, for example, have to tell the reader about this particular first time your protagonist made love. Assuming that he marries the girl and they live happily ever after, you can tell the reader both about the first time and, in general, about their lovemaking over the next sixty years. Everything she does becomes something that foreshadows the rest of their relationship and becomes something he loves about her.

Of course, the payoff for the whole story doesn't have to be the sex. The sex can be an important step along the way to something else, possibly even something more important. Banging the cheerleader also gives the nerd the courage to deal with his bullies. The caddish rake, having been enchanted by the pure innocent girl, gives up his cadding and his raking and starts being kind and monogamous, as demonstrated in the final scene where he doesn't attempt to get in some poor lady's knickers. Not everything you've promised in terms of character development or arcs is always going to be solved by a single fuck (or even one fuck a chapter ad nauseam). Still, if your sex isn't important to the resolution of the story in some way, you're probably not writing erotica, you're writing another genre with some added spice.

Conclusion

None of this is exactly rocket science. We instinctively know how stories work. Still, sometimes we are instinctively bored or confused by a story and need to try to put our finger on why. The more complicated a story gets, the more plates you have to keep spinning.

One of the best ways of seeing how promises, progress and payoffs you're making and delivering on is to get a beta reader (or preferably two). Making the best use of a beta reader is a whole other topic in itself, but letting them read your story 'cold' with no long explanations or accompanying questions can sometimes shake these kinds of issues out. Sometimes, giving them just one chapter or an initial fragment and then asking them what they think might happen next can also sometime show that you've promised something more than you thought.

Shortly after I started writing this essay, I got a comment on one of my stories. The reader was miffed that one character had mentioned in passing that the stripper-cum-call-girl character was likely to be able to be persuaded to do anal for the first time that night. The conflict became that, by a dreadful series of events, her customer turned out to be her brother. While I was writing part two, life got in the way, then I tossed nearly four thousand words of a draft that just wasn't working. Finally, when I got round to writing part two I was completely lost in the drama of would they or wouldn't they commit incest, so much that I completely forgot about the line about anal in part one. I could argue of course that, just because one character said she could do anal, it didn't mean that they were right, or that her brother wanted to do anal with her. (He was pretty conflicted about even getting a striptease from her.) But whatever excuses I offer the disgruntled reader was right. A careless line did constitute a promise that they had a reasonable expectation of being met and I wasn't even aware that I wasn't meeting that expectation.

Had I paid a little more attention and taken one line out, they might have enjoyed the story much more.