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Click here"Take a deep breath honey," Trinity said, stroking his arm.
Cupid pulled away from her. "You want to talk about beauty? About love and the most fucking incredible sex in the universe? Psyche's pussy tasted like honey. Fucking honey! When she came the clouds exploded and rain poured down from the skies! The heavens opened and rivers were formed!"
A bunch of tattooed bikers in leather outfits sitting at the bar turned and looked at Cupid, but he didn't give a fuck. What were they going to do? Cupid could toss every one of them through the fucking wall at the same time, if he felt like it.
"What?" he said to them, standing up and walking over to the bar. "You mother fuckers got an eye problem?"
They quickly turned around.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, punk-ass bitches."
Cupid went back to his seat at the booth in the corner. He thought for a moment, sipping his drink. It was then that he knew what must be done. He would fly up to the heavens and request a meeting with his mother Venus, and plead with her to let Psyche come back from the underworld. He would do anything, absolutely anything, his mother wanted. He knew his mother was one twisted, kinky bitch, but that didn't matter.
Cupid loved Psyche more than his own immortality. He had to get her back.
5.
Isabella was alone on Valentine's Day. It was dinnertime, and she wasn't out on a date at some posh restaurant sipping wine and eating a fancy meal over candlelight, but sitting in her sweatpants on the couch in her apartment with the lights off, watching reruns of "Friends." She was depressed. No one had sent her flowers, chocolate candies, or stuffed animals of any kind, not even her parents, who lived five minutes away. Her knee injury had gotten worse, and she now had it wrapped in an ACE bandage with a pack of ice.
Her doorbell rang, startling her. She wasn't expecting anybody, and so pretended she wasn't home. It was probably Amazon dropping off the new knee brace she ordered yesterday, but she was in no hurry to go and get it off her doorstep. She just wanted to lie there, in the dark, watching Monica and Chandler's wedding.
Someone was knocking now, ringing the doorbell and knocking. This clearly wasn't Amazon delivering a package.
"Hold on," Isabella said, getting up and answering the door.
It was Joe and his daughter, Lily. They were both dressed up -- Joe in silver dress slacks, a black shirt and black sport jacket, and Lily in a pink dress with cute black shoes.
"Oh my god," Isabella said, smiling and suddenly excited. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Can we come in for a minute?" Joe asked.
"Of course."
They went into the living room and sat down. Isabella turned on some lights and paused her television show. She stared fixing her hair and was horrified that she was in sweatpants with no makeup. The icepack was still on her leg, wrapped around the outside of her sweats with the bandage.
"How's the knee?" Joe asked.
"Crappy. Still hurts. Why are you guys all dressed up?"
"We're going to Nirvana!" Lily shouted.
"You are?" Isabella said. "No way!" She rushed over to the little girl, picked her up, and started tickling her. Lily giggled, now sitting in Isabella's lap.
"She really likes you," Joe said.
"Well she ought to. "I've babysat her enough times over the past four years."
"Speaking of babysitting," Joe said, and trailed off. That's why he was there, to ask Isabella to babysit. She knew him better than he knew himself. He was still standing near the door, clearly in a hurry. He batted his eyes at Isabella comically, trying to charm her.
"Fine," Isabella said, secretly excited. "But what about Nirvana?"
"Gretta wants us to be alone. I made a reservation for three, hoping Lily could be there tonight when I give her the ring, but I guess we got our wires crossed. It's now a table for two. It sucks, I know."
"That's okay," Isabella said, playfully poking Lily in the ribs. "Because we're gonna watch TV and eat popcorn!"
"I like popcorn!"
Joe smiled. He kissed Lily on the head and asked Isabella if he could use her bathroom.
"It's on the left," she told him.
He went inside and closed the door. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, took the ring out of his jacket pocket, and rehearsed popping the question. "Will you marry me, Gretta?" he said, wondering if his voice lacked enthusiasm. Did it? No, he was just nervous, that was all. Gretta was a good woman. She was there for him when it mattered most, when his life had fallen apart after Carol died. She was stability.
He put the ring back in his pocket, checked his hair in the mirror, and straightened his jacket. He flushed the toilet as if he'd just used it, and left the bathroom. He walked by Isabella's bedroom and paused. The door was open and her nightlight was on. The room smelled like her, like the fabric softener she used to wash her running clothes. Her bed was unmade, the sheets messy, and Joe wondered if she'd ever had sex in that bed, and with whom. Whoever it was, they were damn lucky.
Joe couldn't believe, for the life of him, how Isabella was home alone on Valentine's Day. There should be 50 men lining up to take her out to dinner, at least. He thought of that time, right when his wife Carol was about to go into hospice, when he'd misinterpreted a hug Isabella had given him, and he caressed her face and kissed her. A charge went through him, a hot energy, and a circuit breaker thumbed down inside his chest and he backed away, apologizing profusely. She was even more apologetic than he was, not because she'd kissed him so passionately, but because she wanted it so badly. If was her fault, she insisted. Joe was a grieving man, and she shouldn't have taken advantage. It would never happen again, they both agreed.
"Joe?" Isabella said, walking up to him in the hallway.
"Oops, sorry. I think I made a wrong turn."
"Lily's looking for you."
"Right. Let me get going."
They went back into the living room. Lily was playing with a coloring book Isabella had bought her last week when she was over.
Joe kneeled down on the floor next to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. "Lily, you're going to stay with aunt Isabella tonight, okay? You guys are going to color and watch television."
"And eat popcorn," Isabella added.
"And eat popcorn. I'm going out for a while, but I'll be back later. You can sleep over here if you want. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay. Bye dad."
"Bye now, sweetie."
He got up and left.
6.
Cupid flew at the speed of light toward the heavens, circling the clouds and feeling the hot rays of the brilliant sun. He could not enter his parent's kingdom unless either his mother Venus, or his father Mars, allowed him to pass. Mars was preoccupied with overseeing the many wars of the universe, and wasn't aware of his son's presence. Venus, on the other hand, was watching her child flying around frantically, entertained by his mania and frustration.
It was Valentine's Day, at least to those goofy mortals on earth. Shouldn't her son be down there shooting his arrows into any number of people, making them fall in love? But what did her son Cupid know about love, anyway. He was a spoiled, willful little brat who didn't care a whit about his mother and her needs, only about that insufferable self-absorbed human girl, Psyche. Sure, Psyche had technically been made immortal by Jupiter, but what did that matter? She was human, not a god, not good enough for her son and certainly not more beautiful and desirable than Venus, the goddess of beauty herself.
Venus was prepared to make Cupid fly around in circles outside the heavens for a hundred years, but something in the universe was calling out to her. There was this powerful virgin energy, emanating from a place on earth called San Diego. It was pure and selfless and tinged with sadness. It had somehow entered her heart and softened it, made her remember that she was indeed Cupid's mother and that she once bore him and fed him her breast.
"Enter, my son," she said to Cupid, waving her hand. The clouds parted and the skies opened, and thunder roared throughout the universe.
Cupid found himself standing in a glorious palace of windows and glass. The mist around him settled and he was in his mother's bedroom, standing on the crystal floor at the foot of her bed.
"Mother," he said, and kneeled before her. Venus lay on the mattress, her exquisitely sexy body scantily clad in a white lace nightie. She wasn't wearing underwear. Her gorgeous red hair flowed like silk over her breasts down to her round hips. Her fiery green eyes spoke of sex and love and lust, of hedonistic, flesh-filled orgies that lasted an eternity.
"Prostrate yourself!" Venus told her son. "And bow before me."
Cupid got on his hands and knees and bowed before his mother, his forehead touching the crystal floor.
"Now crawl over here and kiss my feet!"
Cupid crawled over to the foot of the bed, kissing his mother's soft, fine-boned feet.
"Good," she said, an incestuous grin on her face. "I like it when my son knows how to take care of his mother." She ran her hand up her leg and over her breasts. "Now tell me, my darling, why you're here."
"To ask you for forgiveness."
"For what?"
"For not obeying and honoring you. For not celebrating your incredible beauty and worshipping you for the goddess you are."
Venus touched a hand to her breast and licked her dark red lips. "Tell me more."
"I'm sorry for being a horrible son. For choosing to be with--"
"Don't say her name!" Venus hissed. Thunder cracked in the sky, shaking the palace windows.
Venus shoved her feet back in Cupid's face. He started kissing them again, long, wet kisses, running his tongue softly on the arches of her feet.
"You're so beautiful mother," he said. "The most beautiful woman in the universe."
"How beautiful?"
"More beautiful than any woman, mortal or immortal, human or goddess."
"Keep going."
"Your beauty is more radiant than a thousand suns, more desirable and alluring than a siren song. Oh mother, how I've longed to serve and obey you, worship you and take care of your every need."
Venus was lolling her head, her mouth open, her tongue dancing like a snake. Her legs were spread, her fiery red cunt pulsing with heat. She groped her breasts as she jammed three fingers inside herself, staring at her son, absorbed by his every word.
"How much do you love your mother?" she asked him.
"More than anyone. More than anything."
"Do you love me more than her? More than that intolerable earth girl you once married?"
"Yes, mother. I love you more than her."
Venus stroked her wet gash. "Am I more beautiful than that fucking stupid cunt?"
"Yes."
"Then show me! Come fuck your mother! Come eat her pussy!"
Cupid stood up and got in bed with Venus. She pushed him on his back and sat on his face, smothering him with her soaking pussy. Lightening flashed and a bolt of thunder shook the room. Smoke rose from the crystal floor and Psyche appeared, released from the confines of the underworld. She stood there, naked and breath-takingly beautiful, watching Cupid eat his mother's pussy.
"Ah," Venus said. "Look who's here."
Cupid sat up and saw his wife then, and his heart melted, as he hadn't seen her in over a year. He loved her more than anything, more than his disgusting sleazy mother, and would do anything to have her back.
"Come over here, bitch," Venus said to Psyche. "Come watch your husband fuck his mother up the ass."
Psyche walked over to the foot of the bed.
"Kneel down!" Venus roared. Thunder struck, rattling the bed.
Psyche knelt down.
"Now watch! Watch!"
Venus got on all fours, raising her ass in the air. Cupid got behind his mother and pushed his erect penis into her asshole, watching it get swallowed whole. He started fucking her then, doing his best to keep himself hard, pumping his small cock in-and-out of her ass. Venus whipped her head from side-to-side, her red hair flying in her face, moaning, lightening striking, smoke rising from the crystal floor.
"You like watching," Venus said to Psyche, "don't you?"
Psyche nodded. "Yes, Venus."
"I bet you do, you fucking spoiled cunt!" She looked back over her shoulder at Cupid. She pulled his cock out of her ass and shoved it into her pussy. "Go ahead. Tell you spoiled brat wife whose pussy you like better, hers or mine?"
"I like yours mother," he told her.
"Say it louder!"
"I like your pussy better."
"Yes, that's right. You like your mother's pussy better. And why don't you tell this stupid little cunt who you love more, and who is more beautiful."
"You're more beautiful," Cupid said, still fucking her. "And I love you more."
"Say it again, so this bitch standing over here can hear it!"
"You're more beautiful mother, and I love you more."
Venus orgasmed then, her climax like a nuclear shockwave. The entire palace and everyone in it was vaporized in white light, the heavens exploding in geysers of atomic energy.
7.
Cupid was back in the Trees Lounge, sitting at his favorite booth in the corner, his entourage gathered around him. Psyche was there with him, stunning as ever. Trinity, the sultry redhead, was up at the bar getting everybody another round of drinks.
"She's so beautiful," Royce was saying to Cupid, patting him on the shoulder. "You were right, sir. The most beautiful girl in the world."
"Isn't she?" Cupid said, and kissed his wife on the mouth.
Psyche winked, slid her foot under the table and put it in Cupid's crotch.
Trinity came back with the drinks.
"Oh fuck," Cupid said, checking the clock above the bar. "It's getting late. I almost forgot. It's Valentine's Day. I have to get moving. I have promises to keep."
He grabbed Psyche and his quiver of arrows and slipped out the back door.
8.
Isabella was sleeping when she heard her cellphone vibrate. She checked the number and saw that it was Joe. It was after midnight and she'd gone to bed, assuming that Joe would be staying at Gretta's house. Lily was in the living room, asleep on the couch.
"Hello?" Isabella said.
"Hey, Isabella. Did I wake you?"
"Yeah, but don't worry about it. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. I'm at the front door. Is it too late to come inside? I really need to see you."
"Okay. Hold on a minute. Let me come and let you in."
She opened the door in her t-shirt and panties. Lily was still on the couch, out like a light. Isabella pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Joe was still in his dress slacks and shirt, but he'd taken off his sport coat and left it in the back seat of his car.
"What's going on?" Isabella asked.
"I didn't go through with it," Joe told her. "I couldn't."
"You didn't propose to Gretta?"
"Nope."
"Holy shit. I'm sorry to hear that."
Joe put his hands on his hips. "I'm not. I don't love her. It's over. We broke up."
"Oh my god," Isabella said.
"Crazy, right? I know. Gretta's not for me. I thought she was, but she's not. That's clear now. Gretta doesn't even like Lily, for starters. It really got me thinking when she told me she didn't want her to join us for dinner tonight." Joe walked over to his sleeping daughter. He kissed her on the cheek. She stirred and rolled over.
"Me and Lily had fun tonight. She tired me out completely, like usual. We went to bed around 9:30."
"That's awesome. You're so good with her."
"It's nothing. I like watching her, you know that."
Joe reached into his pants pocket, started taking something out.
"Joe, for goodness sake, you don't have to pay me. It's cool. I owe you so much already."
"I have this ring," he said, holding the box in his hand. Isabella wasn't sure what was happening. She stared at the box, realizing it was the same one Joe had bought Gretta. Why was he taking it out now?
Joe caressed Isabella's face and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. He looked in her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, and in that moment his gaze communicated to her everything in his heart, all he had ever felt for her, all the longings and loneliness, all the guilt about his late wife Carol.
"Oh my god, Joe," Isabella said, and then he was getting down on one knee, proposing, holding out the ring.
"Will you marry me, Isabella?"
"Yes!"
She held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger.
He stood up and kissed her, cupping his hands around her pretty face.
"Let's go into my bedroom," Isabella said.
"Okay."
They fumbled down the hall, going at each other like teenagers, trying to be as quiet as possible. They went into her bedroom and Joe lay her down on the bed, taking off his dress shirt.
"Here, let me," Isabella said, undoing his pants and pulling them off. She ran her hands over his chest and inside his boxers. He was already rock hard. She pulled off her t-shirt and guided her small breast into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over her nipples and she arched her back, nearly exploding.
He ran his tongue over her stomach, kissing her softly, his breath warm on her skin. He licked the inside of each thigh, teasing her. She could no longer stand it and shoved his head between her legs, grabbing his short salt-and-pepper hair between her fingers. He ate her pussy and she orgasmed, bucking her hips, eyes rolling back. She grabbed her pillow and put it over her head so Lily wouldn't hear her coming, wouldn't hear her loud, nasty moans.
They kissed passionately, with lots of tongue. They peeled off the rest of their underwear, still kissing and holding one another. Isabella lay back on the mattress, ready for Joe, ready to give him all of her. He entered her, the first time a man had ever done so. He grabbed her legs and pushed them back against her chest, his full weight on top of her. She came a second time, grabbing at his back as he fucked her, the mattress squeaking, her breath coming in short gasps.
His thrusting quickened, and he was about to orgasm. He went to pull out but she stopped him.
"Come inside me," she said. "It's fine. We're getting married."
"Okay," he said, and kissed her. She could feel his body contract as he climaxed, felt the muscles in his arms tighten, felt his warm luscious seed shooting inside her.
They rolled over on the bed and held each other.
Isabella held up her hand, admiring the ring on her finger. "It's absolutely gorgeous," she told him. "Gorgeous. It's all I ever dreamed of, and more."
"Dad?" a voice called from the hallway. It was Lily. Joe got up, put on his underwear, and let his daughter inside the bedroom.
"You guys okay?" Lily asked them, hopping onto the bed.
"We're fine, honey," Isabella told her.
She lay on her dad's chest. "Is aunt Isabella going to be my new mommy?"
"Do you want her to?"
"Yes please."
"I think we can arrange that."
Joe kissed his daughter and his new wife-to-be, and the three of them fell asleep in each other's arms.
Outside, Cupid was flying at the window with his beautiful wife Psyche, one less arrow inside his quiver.
- COMMENTS
StrappySandals4 months agoInteresting and fun, but probably not your best work. Seemed to me, Cupid and Isabella didn't connect till the last sentence, which left me empty. Regarding critique by Comentarista, pay it no mind. The name alone tells you he/she gets off by leaving long winded, uesless , but biting notes that are complete horseshit!! I follow you, therefore you must be a good writer!! (Ha Ha) Believe it my friend!!
Roy_Eldorado4 months agoAuthor@Comentarista82: I appreciate you returning here to have this conversation. I feel it’s well within the community guidelines to dialogue a story on the comment board, especially if it’s between the author and a registered commenter with a long track record of substantial reviews, like yourself. I do not agree that if an author has an issue with a comment left they shouldn’t respond, that they should be forced to either delete the comment, or close comments altogether. This does not create a positive give-and-take between the author and the readers. You write in your most recent comment, “You can either take the advice as it’s offered, you can take some part of it, you can ignore it, or you can delete it. Choose wisely.” Says who? Are you a site administrator? This is what I meant when I said you should watch your tone when giving comments. You’ve presented me with options, and state I must “choose wisely” as if there will be some ultimatum if I make the wrong choice. You also state in your profile that “Thankfully, there’s now a Comments Guideline policy you can find right under a comment box at the end of a story: it allows you to comment on the STORY, but NOT other commenters. Read it and inform yourself!” If you’re a site administrator you should identify yourself as such. But as an administrator you’d surely agree that an author engaging with a commenter in a cordial and proactive manner is not a violation of comment board decorum. If you’re not an administrator, I’d have to say you’re out of line here. You must understand that when you’re judging/rating/criticizing a writer’s work, the writer as every right to respond to this evaluation, so long as it’s done in a proactive and respectful manner.
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No, your comments are not infallible, nor should they be shielded from criticism, especially from the author whose work has been rated or evaluated. Ironically, your own advice applies here: if you don’t like the feedback on your comments, ignore it. A writing workshop is a two-way street. We all open ourselves to judgment and feedback – commenter and author. And since you haven’t published a single work here, you have not opened yourself to any evaluation, and yet continue to evaluate others. Incredibly, you feel as though your lengthy comments, which at times have an authoritative and condescending tone, should not be responded to, either. It doesn’t work that way, Comentarista82. You have to know this. You are not an untouchable creative writing professor, pontificating to a bunch of fledgling, pimple-faced undergraduates in a fiction workshop. You might be in real life, but not here. Some of us are seasoned writers, with numerous publishing credits to our name.
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You wrote in your post that I used the ad hominem fallacy to “attack” you. Seriously? Go back and read my original post to you. I thanked you several times for reading my story, and for providing lengthy feedback. I also acknowledged that you are an invaluable part of this community, and that your passion for reading and reviewing is noteworthy. And it is. You seem to be a voracious reader and incredibly dedicated reviewer. And your reviews are extremely thorough and mostly helpful. But I went as far as to judge and evaluate your criticisms of my story, and you immediately took issue with this. Do you see the irony here?
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I will agree some of your feedback about my story was valid. Interestingly, I workshopped the story with a trusted reader before I submitted, and got similar feedback from her: the story felt disjointed (an issue with coherence), especially when it jumped from Cupid to Isabella. She also echoed what you said about the Cupid plot being more intriguing, and that it should have been further explored. So yes, you make some accurate and helpful insights. Obviously, length would improve the character development – although I still believe you can tell a damn good story in 5K – 7K words, but the writer must be very skilled. And yes, Isabella was a bit superficial, and could have been fleshed out more. I don’t know if she needed to be the prototypical Latina stereotype as you suggested, but her character was lacking in terms of a richer, longer story (although I was going for a humorous, offbeat “quickie”). You are correct when you say no character is “free.” That’s something I remember you telling another writer in a review. It stuck with me. My story is not the lowest rated in the contest, by the way, and hasn’t gotten “smeared.” Currently it has a 4.2 rating – which is between “like it” and “love it,” and has garnered 11 hearts and 98 total ratings.
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I’d like to close by saying I respect your dedication to reading and reviewing stories on this website. You appear to be one of the most prolific readers/reviewers here, and you generally seem to be on point with your feedback, at least in my opinion. You provide an invaluable service to writers, as I’ve mentioned. With that said, I’d like to repeat my suggestion that you be more aware of any condescending tone associated with your reviews. Perhaps qualify your suggestions with the phrase “in my opinion,” so your feedback doesn’t sound patronizing, which it did in my case. And of course, there’s always the option of posting at least one story, or of entering the 2024 Valentine’s Day contest (the deadline isn’t until February 7). It would be interesting to see your work here!
***
PS: we can continue this dialogue on this comment board, or in private. I’ve messaged you through this website, and you can do the same with me. Or, we can just leave it and move on. Either way, happy reading and reviewing.
Comentarista824 months agoI normally don't return to check out further comments on any particular story, but for some reason something told me to do so in this case.. and it's interesting that I did. I'm going to refute what you said, because it warrants it.
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1) no author has to like anyone reader's comment; in fact they don't have to agree with it, nor do they have to even read it if they don't want. Furthermore, they can also either delete the comment because they feel it's warranted, or they can close comments entirely and prevent commenting if they want to do that. I've seen several authors do this, because of whatever reason they had, and I know a lot of authors site... which just basically got fed up with people leaving Anonymous comments but never put a face to a name and nor never said what they scored.
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2) you never address a single one of the issues I brought up that are legitimate shortcomings in your story. In fact, you employ the ad hominem fallacy to attack me because how dare I say anything against your clearly superior and award-winning story... when it has legitimate shortfalls, issues and problems. Then you use the next fallacy which makes a claim without again addressing any of the facts I presented to you, and that is this one: Tu Quoque Fallacy. I mean.. are you trying to totally discredit yourself and your story by not addressing facts? At this point it really doesn't matter because you're not going to accept it and that's your privilege.
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3) just by The generally-accepted length requirements on the site, the average author will say that it should be at least 3 lit pages long. Your story clearly needed that, because there's no way you can resolve him breaking up with Greta without any explanation; you also cannot resolve Joe throwing himself at Isabella and Isabella accepting everything willy-nilly simply because he's going to marry her.
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4) Isabella is a paper-thin and superficial character that simply exists; aside from her being a runner, her being Catholic, and her having a family, we know nothing about her except her feelings. This also creates another problem: the age gap. Even if you resolve Joe and Isabella by Cupid shooting them with an arrow - -which he did--it's too convenient. You of all people--since you've published where you say you have--will automatically realize that when something is too convenient that you've taken an illegal shortcut that people are going to call you on and that is completely valid. When a critic says your characters need further development and your story needs more length to account for that development, that is also valid criticism. You can't just dismiss it because you wanted to write a shorter story.
Additionally, I did take the time to reread your story, and in so doing saw that while Isabella's thought processes were thought out and explored to some degree, we have no manifestation of how Joe feels for her simply because we don't see any of his inner thoughts except in one case where both of them hug and he kissed her because he got carried away.. and felt a spark. But that's all the story has to hang its head on for their so-called romance. Also you are either intentionally unaware, blissfully unaware or don't care about the fact that Isabella's family is going to want to castrate Joe because he's fucked their daughter and their daughter hasn't even introduced him to the family - - and that is a serious cultural omission that must be included- - whether you like it or not; the truth is that in a very strict Catholic and Latino family, Isabella could be even entirely disowned for that action if they think she took it upon herself without involving the family first. The other problem is is that he would not even have a chance with Isabella unless the parents first met and approved of him. Now the story doesn't say if Isabella has any brothers or not, but if she did guess what? The brothers would grill Joe unmercifully. This is well-pictured in the 2000 film Only Fools Rush In with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry. At least however in that film, Matthew Perry tries to learn Spanish; he tries to meet the parents; both families meet each other; he actually goes to meeting the brothers; he actually meets the grandmother who actually gives him her blessing; and although it's not a happy kind of joining.. it's a plausible one why? Because he took all the steps necessary. And just as I said before you don't address the age gap problem in this story, which is and has many studies supporting it- - most of which have happened abundantly since 2015 - - and conclusively prove that if the gap is larger than 10 years that the couple has a 92% failure rate. So the problem is even when you create a fictional story, even fiction has to be believable. So if you ignore facts and write your own story straight ahead everybody else's facts be damned.. you're going to get smeared. And judging by your scores the general readership has done exactly that, because your scores are the lowest of any in the submission category for possibly one, some, or maybe even all of these reasons.
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Finally, the comments policy and the FAQ on site do not require readers to publish on this site to be able to comment. The site owners encourage comments to be constructive; they encourage them to be helpful; they encourage them to leave a comment so the author knows whether or not somebody enjoyed the work. So since publication is not required, that totally discredits anything you have to say. So my suggestion is this either delete my comments if you don't like it, or close all comments, which you have the ability to do on your author side of the site. You can either take the advice as it's offered, you can take some part of it, you can ignore it, or you can delete it. Choose wisely.
Roy_Eldorado4 months agoAuthor@Comentarista82: Thanks for reading. If it wasn’t for people like you, who take the time to read the stories on this website, this whole community wouldn’t exist. I generally don’t respond to readers’ comments (I’ve published various fiction and nonfiction on numerous websites, and in several books and newspapers) but in this case I feel a response is warranted. While I appreciate your feedback, I have to point out a certain irony: you haven’t published a single story on this site. You offer a whole, whole lot of opinions for not having shared a single erotic work of literature here. This being the case, your suggestions/criticisms lose some credibility.
Again, I appreciate you taking the time to read my story, and offering a lengthy comment. Comments here are few and far between. But since I can’t repay the favor by offering some suggestions to improve your work, as you’ve published no stories here, I will make some helpful observations about your methods for offering feedback to other writers, using your comments on my story as an example (I will give feedback on your feedback, if you will).
You mention in your profile that you’ve done some professional editing and evaluating, which obviously gives you some experience in that department. But your overall comments, at least in my case, are at times random, and conflate taste/personal preferences with craft/structure. You obviously missed the narrative thread – that “The Year without a Cupid” was based on “A Year without a Santa Clause.” That’s fine. Stories are works of art. Good ones have a design and develop in certain ways. Mine developed as it did not because of gaps in craft, but because of choices made in terms of length, tone, and that fact that I wanted it to be a humorous feel good “quickie,” not a basis for a longer, deeper tale.
Another suggestion: be aware of your condescending tone. Telling writers their stories are not coherent, that their characters are poorly developed, that they’ve made the wrong plot choices, and that they should do a rewrite after seeking the help of volunteers who can point them in the right direction all at once is not productive. You have to realize this kind of “feedback” is going to sound pompous and arrogant, right? Especially if the person giving it has no published work to serve as a model, no ratings or following of any kind? You actually wrote that my story lacked quality and “needs a lot of help.” Amazing. Then you finished with the patronizing “best of luck” closing, as if your stories are the biggest thing here on this page. I know you have to see how completely arrogant and self-aggrandizing this is, right?
Again, I appreciate you reading my story, and taking the time to comment. Perhaps you could publish some of your work here to serve as a model, which might open your eyes to the process of receiving feedback on a story. It also might help make your own comments more insightful and balanced.
Comentarista824 months agoI must say that while the story has potential, It suffers from a lack of focus. It does contain some intriguing elements, like for example Cupid with plenty of snark and humor; Cupid willing to kill himself although that doesn't happen..; he is approached with a true conundrum, where Isabella is concerned about her trainer Joe.. but the problem is the story meanders and I frankly lost interest about halfway into the second page. First of all, there was one time where one of the human bodyguards addressed Cupid and instead of Cupid trying to address that bodyguard's concern about this one woman being really beautiful and if you could help him out, Cupid went on another rant about something totally different. You have Isabella who approaches him, but doesn't get to the point, and represents the same kind of back and forth of the undefined story. You introduce Isabella as a virgin Latina, but the problem is she's incredibly superficial as a character also: when you use characters of a certain race, you have to at least make a reasonable attempt address the qualities they should possess; in Isabella's case, she should have spoken some Spanish, and probably you should have mentioned something about her mother and how close she was with her family but really aside from you mentioning she's a Latina, it's just kind of left there. It's obvious that she loves Joe, and Joe has some type of inclination for her.. but then as I was losing interest.. suddenly he wants to marry isabella? Suddenly he wants to have sex with her and get her pregnant? I'm not going to bother to go back and read the possible reason why it happened, although there was something about one of Cupid's arrows being missing.. the main thing is the story has potential, but elements are brought out partly developed, and then just kind of dropped. Another thing, is that the story is just too short- - which impedes having enough physical space to develop these characters--to at least a reasonable extent; for example, Joe should have sat down and examined exactly why he probably shouldn't have even bothered with Greta.. just aside from realizing his voice lacked enthusiasm when he was practicing asking Greta to marry him. Then, he should have gone through the pros and cons of perhaps why Isabella would be a better choice. The obvious reason that Isabella would make a better choice is that Lily obviously adores and loves her, but then you clearly have a large age gap between Joe and Isabella. I can get that Isabella has a crush on him, and perhaps Joe and Isabella could make a good go of it.. but it's obvious there's far more than just 10 to 15 years between their ages, meaning that there's only 8% of age-gap romances in the 10-year range that are successful; this means that unless you somehow clearly define and picture them thoroughly talking about all the possible issues, who's going to handle what responsibilities, how they're going to address their relationship to their friends and their family, it just isn't going to work and it's got a 92% chance of failure.
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I certainly like the idea of Cupid being done with Valentine's day. If you would have taken story in a definite direction, say that somehow Cupid insured that his wings wouldn't deploy and saved him... and he would have certainly fallen and died.. then we could have had a real tragedy and perhaps forced the gods to reconsider what they've done or what they hadn't done. The other thing that disturbs me is how incredibly selfish and just downright unsympathetic that you paint Venus, as every god to some extent has their selfish desire certainly.. but to then make this excessive scene with Cupid getting intimate with her, and then Cupid's former wife seeing this.. what does that do for your story? It's like there's tons of directions that are offered, or even a few misdirections, but there's no clear plan on going forward with executing the story in a coherent way. So given all these things that need resolutions and lack of a clear direction and focus for the story the best I can rate this is a 2. I do sincerely hope you will decide to maybe rewrite the story, and try to figure out which way you want it to go; make sure you look into finding ways to deepen your characters; make sure that when you use characters of certain race, that you make them believably genuine at least enough so, so that most people at a cursory glance will say well yes this person is obviously Latina.. you get the idea, so try something different. Maybe ask some volunteers to read your story and offer some ideas on possible directions, and experiment a little bit. If you're willing to do that, you might find that your story quality improves, because right now this story needs a lot of help, but it can be improved upon. Best of luck.
