Two Authors 'collaborate' Litcon 25

Happy to introduce a submission for, The First Annual Virtual Literotica Convention [Lit Con 2025].

It's been a joy to work with Rabblelaid on this project where our fictionalized writer personas meet up and 'collaborate' on a new project.

Please be sure to

check him out

.

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The sharp-eyed, bearded man took back his ID from the woman behind the hotel desk and tucked it into his wallet, putting away his real identity at the same time.

As he turned away from the desk with his key and stepped into the lobby, admiring the abstract metal statue in the atrium, he also stepped into his other identity...

For the rest of the weekend, he was Rabblelaid, writer of kinky stories, not his boring everyday outside self. It felt refreshing... and a little taboo. For obvious reasons, most erotica authors didn't attach their real names to their work. It was sort of like having an alter ego. The idea of introducing himself as an author of filthy stories in real life felt almost exhibitionist, like he was planning to parade around naked all weekend.

As he made his way toward the elevator, Rabblelaid couldn't help people watching. How many of these people were here for the First Annual Virtual Literotica Conference? It was hard to tell. They all looked like average people, not a group of kinky freaks. Then again, Rabble thought they would probably think the same of him. He considered himself good-looking, with broad shoulders, a winning smile, and a body he would describe as "reasonably in-shape". But he hardly looked like a kinky erotic writer. Most people would pass him in the street without looking twice.

He was especially focused on the women as he made his way through the lobby. Could any of them be Vivian? Would he recognize her on sight? He smirked at himself and shook his head. Of course he wouldn't. He would have to wait until the mixer later tonight to meet her in person for the first time.

Vivian was a talented writer, a collaborator, and a good friend. Rabblelaid and Vivian often exchanged story ideas, helped each other brainstorm, and bitched about the annoyances of making online content. But they had never heard each other's voice or even seen pictures of each other. Tonight would be the first time they had ever spoken through anything other than text. Would she be just an average-looking person like everyone he was passing in the lobby? Or was Vivian as hot as her stories?

Rabblelaid snorted at himself and put a hand to his forehead as the elevator climbed. He was letting the erotic atmosphere of the conference he was about to attend go to his head. Vivian was a friend. And she was a married mother, for God's sake. He needed to get his mind out of the gutter or he would look like a total creep when they met.

Rabble's hotel room was stunning. Cool, clean, and modern. One of the nicest he had ever stayed in, honestly. This entire trip had cost a pretty penny, but his wife had pushed him to go. He deserved it, Clara had said, for all the hard work he had done writing. Besides, she teased, what better way was there to spend all the donation money he had earned?

Rabble thumped his suitcase up onto the bed to pull out some nicer clothes for the evening. He always traveled in comfortable clothes, but he wanted to look the part of a sexy, debonair erotica writer tonight, rather than his usual average look. As he rummaged through the neatly folded clothes, however, he found something he didn't remember packing. A small, shrink-wrapped box with a post-it note stuck to the side.

His eyes widened as he read it, his heart suddenly racing in his chest.

"I hope that 'Rabblelaid' has a lot of fun at the conference... and my hubby comes back home to me with a little pep in his step and a twinkle in his eye. <3 Wifey.

It was a box of condoms. Rabble sat down heavily on the bed, his mind reeling. Clara was a beautiful, sweet, sexy woman. In contrast to him, she had always been very vanilla in bed, although she respected his writing hobby. This was off the charts as far as kinkiness went for her, and Rabblelaid recognized it as the brave, selfless gift that it was.

God, she had joked this morning about how "what happens at the conference stays at the conference" when she kissed him goodbye at the airport, but it looked like she had only been half-joking. Rabble's cock was suddenly rock hard in his pants as he turned the unexpected gift over in his hands.

A hall pass. At a conference of erotica writers. On the day when he met his online friend for the first time.

He pushed the thought away again, but it was more difficult this time. He didn't even know what Vivian looked like! Maybe she was ninety years old. More importantly, maybe she wouldn't have the slightest interest in the fact that Rabble was suddenly free to explore a little. But on the other hand... sometimes there was a little flirty energy when they sent messages back and forth. And there had been a few times when their "brainstorming" for story collaboration had gotten a little... hot and heavy.

When Rabblelaid left the hotel room about an hour later, dressed to the nines, he hesitated for a moment, then unwrapped the box of condoms and slid one into his wallet. After all, who knew what could happen?

...

Vivian finished putting the subtle curls into her shoulder-length red hair. It wasn't the best job she'd ever done, but it was nice enough on such short notice and having just her travel stuff rather than the myriad hair care accessories she used at home. The ones that were constantly all over the bathroom counter and made her husband give her a flat look, like she was a slob, but with that twinkle of unconditional love she always reveled in. Maybe she was messy on purpose just to push her husband's buttons. To tease him. Or maybe she was just lazy.

Probably the latter.

Satisfied with the subtle blush and eyeliner, she brushed back her hair and smoothed out her dark sapphire dress as best she could. The little bump on her tummy, the mom fluff that just wouldn't go away, made her cringe a little. But despite that, the dress was very flattering, featuring a neckline that plunged deep between her small breasts, showing off a hint of inner side boob, or what little she had to show at least. It clung beautifully to her hips and her bouncy little bottom. She couldn't help looking at her rear in the mirror and wiggling it playfully, making herself laugh.

It was as good as it was going to get. She slipped on her heels, her white stockinged feet moving with sleek practice; she had worn heels to church practically since she could walk. Then grabbed her small purse, hanging from a short gold chain, and snapped on her name tag. Of course, name tags at this event were basically lies. Maybe they should have called them Alias tags. Vivian White was NOT her real name. Dear Lord, if she used her real name, real identity, while writing the things she did and someone she knew stumbled upon them, the shit storm would be out of this world. But everyone else was most likely in the same boat. All going by Pen Names, Usernames, Aliases, etc. In a way, she was going to a masquerade party without the masks.

She had really been looking forward to this event, but now that it was finally here, she was almost terrified. Meeting these people in real life felt... Well, it felt like she was peeking behind the curtain to find that the Wizard was just a pudgy dude. She'd chatted and read and assisted several of the people that would be here, and she wasn't under any illusions that they would all be exactly as they described. She was almost sure some would be the opposite sex they claimed... maybe even trans. Those who were super kinky in their writing might be the most milk-toast vanilla people. Or the exact opposite. Some people wrote wholesome stories, and in real life they were probably so perverted she'd faint just hearing about the things they enjoyed.

But all of that was just a minor concern. She was excited to be here; to mingle with other writers. To get inspiration and ideas and just have a good time. She quickly shot off a text to her husband that she was going to the mixer and so probably wouldn't be able to text for a while. Asked him to kiss the kids goodnight. Sent a bunch of kiss emojis and declarations of love and finished up by saying that she missed him. She meant every word and kiss emoji from the bottom of her heart. She may write about hotwifing and cuckolding and marriage strife, but her marriage was happy and solid. She wouldn't have it any other way.

With one last look in the mirror, she nodded, turned, and left the room. As she approached the elevator, she shot off another text. This one went to the one person she'd agreed to officially meet. Rabblelaid. She'd been collaborating and messaging with him for months now and enjoyed their back-and-forth. Even their little steamy session when trying to work out scenes and brainstorm ideas by acting out the scenarios. It was a bit embarrassing, but she'd rubbed herself several times at her computer desk while she'd worked with him. Her husband had even caught her doing it once and the sex after had been phenomenal. He seemed like a solid person and she was anxious to meet him, in more ways than one.

She told him she was dressed in blue and hoped to see him at the mixer and get a drink. There was going to be a free bar as well as some other event booths set up tonight. Not as many as there would be over the weekend, but it was supposed to be a little sampling of people selling books, software, art, clothing, almost like a market at a fair... but a bit more formal and kinky.

She slipped into the elevator and took a deep breath as it began to descend. "Here it goes." She whispered to herself.

...

Rabblelaid made his way into the ballroom, feeling oddly nervous despite himself. Nothing to get all intimidated over. Just a friendly meetup for drinks. He scanned the room as he entered, his eyes searching for the color blue. That was what Vivian said she would be wearing.

In a moment, his eyes found her, sitting by herself at a table and sipping a drink while looking around. He instantly knew it was her.

Wow. Well, one thing was for sure... she wasn't ninety years old.

Vivian was somewhat introverted, and so she had chosen a table to the side, a little off the beaten path. She was currently sipping a fruity drink from a colorful straw. She wasn't sure how alcoholic it was, but by the smell of it... plenty of vodka was involved. Her red hair was tossed over one shoulder, not so long that it went very far past her collarbone. Her eyes were scanning the room, and people, trying to guess who was who without glimpsing their name tags. Her eyes landed on someone... a gentleman was staring at her from across the room.

Creep. She thought at first. But she wasn't surprised to experience leering glances from the men at events like this. Women, or at least women her age, weren't all that common in her corner of the erotica community. It was usually older women, men, and some in-between sorts that made up this genre of writers.

The smiling man was walking across the reception hall toward her now, she saw with mild alarm, dreading the possibility of being hit on by some random kink writer. Then her eyes shifted to his nametag, and she blushed. Oh. Not a creep. Okay. She raised a hand, sipping her drink, and waved at the man she had been hoping to meet.

He was tall, although not towering, and bearded, with sharp, intelligent blue eyes and a body that verged on muscular without being bulky.

"Vivian?" asked Rabblelaid with a slow smile spreading across his face. "Good to... meet you? It feels weird to say that to someone I've talked to so many times."

Vivian stood up, setting her drink aside and smoothing her dress over her thighs since it had bunched up slightly from sitting, flashing the tops of her stockings slightly before they were covered again. "I know, right?" She held out her hand with a big grin. "Online versus real life is kinda weird."

As Rabblelaid reached out to shake, his eyes locked with Vivian's, and he felt a... tingle? A spark of some kind. His online friend was cute... well, beautiful. A mature, lovely woman. He had been preparing himself for disappointment on that front, and now that it turned out that he found her attractive, it was actually making him feel a little tongue-tied.

"So... uhhh," he said, trying to keep the blush from forming on his face, "meet anyone else we 'know' yet?"

She couldn't stop herself from snorting a little laugh. "Well, there's this one author I follow. Goes by a dude's name. But it's totally that lady over there." She pointed to a lovely older woman, silver-haired and a little curvy, but still sweet-looking. Almost like a grandma, but with far fewer wrinkles. "She writes a lot of gay stuff. Not really my thing, guy-guy stuff, but he... er, she, I guess, was always very engaged on the forums." She shrugged and motioned to a seat next to her. "Have a seat. You're pretty much the only one I'm really expecting to meet."

Rabblelaid took the offered seat, looking toward the older woman with an interested twinkle in his eyes. "Huh. I would have guessed there would be a lot more guys pretending to be girls in the community rather than the other way around. I guess it just goes to show that you never can tell." He turned back to Vivian, then looked away again. He had felt another little zip of attraction when their eyes met. Jesus, he needed to calm the fuck down! What was he, a high schooler with a crush? The condom in his wallet was making him all mixed up and overthinking things. "So, what's your plan for the weekend? Any particular things you are looking for at the conference?"

Vivian circled a finger along the rim of her drink and then brought it to her lips thoughtfully. "I think we'll be surprised by the authors here. Who's who and why? But, whatever. As long as people are nice." She licked the little bit of fruity juice from her finger. "I guess... I'll probably check out some of the booths. I know some authors sell other books and stuff. Wanna try to support the indie scene, ya know? But I've heard there are some breakout sessions for like, how to write better sex scenes, how to represent different sexualities well, the psychology of things like hotwifing and cuckolding and that whole spectrum. I think I'm gonna sit in on a few of them. But, honestly? I'm probably going to spend most of my time writing. I'm so freaking behind on my stories right now. It's hard to keep momentum sometimes and heaven forbid you run into a block." She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, looking at the handsome man next to her. "What about you?"

Rabble shifted a little in his seat, unable to look away from his fellow writer's innocent, unselfconscious act of licking her finger. Then he shook himself a little, trying to focus. "Same, actually. I'm working on a piece right now that I need to finish ASAP, but... I'm actually having a little trouble with it."

Vivian pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know! I'm doing this sex scene right now... the guy getting dominant with my female, but for some reason I'm just struggling to think of what they should do. I have no idea why I'm having trouble with this. I've got her on her knees and he's tapping his cock on her tongue but... where the fuck do I go from there?" She collapsed onto the table in exaggerated, dramatic fashion, head in hands.

Rabble tapped a finger to his chin pensively. This was more familiar territory. He found himself moving past the awkwardness of his author friend being a beautiful woman as he slipped into their normal dynamic of talking shop. "Hmmmm. So you're just looking for some more dominant sex positions? Or maybe some ways that he can get her to show her submission?" he asked.

She turned her head to look up at him from the table. "Probably both. I want the guy to take control, but not by, like, hurting her or something like that. I'm not going the BDSM route here. But this character... She's timid. It's this story idea that I've been mulling around for a while. A young wife and mother wants to explore her sexuality, so she makes this agreement with her husband: once a month they are allowed to go out and try something. Anything, no rules or restrictions. And for this month, she's connected with a reputable dom online to explore her submissive side. She's going to spend the whole weekend at his cabin, and he's going to spend two long days owning her completely. She's going to do pretty much everything he wants. I'm jumping around a little in the narrative, so I'm at the first sex scene." She sat up, brushing her dress again, it really did have a habit of bunching up, and then looked back at Rabble. "And what's worse... I can't even figure out what she's wearing! Can you believe that? I love planning out lingerie and outfits in my stories, and I can't freaking figure out what to dress my imaginary lady in."

Rabble gulped as he watched Vivian's dress bunch up and then get smoothed out again over her plump thighs, but this time he was able to keep his focus a lot better. "That's funny!" he said with a snort, "Your story actually has a lot of similarities with mine. It's about an innocent, vanilla woman. Just like yours, a wife and mother, who opens up a little and walks on the wild side. I mean, I have plenty of ideas of what I want to have happen physically in the first sex scene... but I'm struggling with the emotional depth of the scene. I mean, I've never been a wife or mother myself, so I'm feeling a little out of my depth." The jazz music had started at this point, and more and more authors were pouring into the room. The buzz of the crowd was getting louder, and Rabble had to lean over the table and raise his voice a little to make himself heard.

Vivian scooted her chair closer, leaning in to hear better as the noise grew. "Sounds like we could help each other, as per usual." She smiled. "You're good with dominant sex, and I'm good with what's in a lady's head." She tapped Rabble's forehead playfully.

Rabble grinned, leaning even closer, speaking right into Vivian's ear. "Hey, no need to ask twice. I always love collaborating with you! Let's get the stories out and not stop until we bust through our writer's block."

Her chuckle was light. "I'd love to, but this party isn't a good writing spot. Plus, my laptop is still in my room. Wanna come up? We can order some room service and see what we can think up. Plus, I can get out of this dress. I know I may look divine, but... ugh, it's tight, and I'd rather be in yoga pants and a t-shirt."

Maybe he was playing with fire, but Rabble couldn't help himself. "Why, Mrs. White, are you saying we should go up to your room so you can slip into something a little more comfortable?" he asked with a laugh.

Vivian was full-on laughing now, her cheeks flushing bright red. Flirting in real life was a lot different from online. She could hide her blushing. Sneak a hand down her panties or over her chest to touch and rub when there was something titillating being talked about. But having her friend right in front of her and clearly flirting... it put Vivian into a new situation she hadn't really been prepared for. Not that it was uncomfortable. In fact, just the opposite. A spark shot through her veins at his remark and a little heat pooled between her thighs. "If you're thinking I'm gonna be in anything sexy, sorry to disappoint. I came to this convention with utility in mind. Granny panties." She shrugged and bit her lip, embarrassed. "But I guess I am asking you up to my room to... 'bang' out some chapters. That could mean so many things... especially with this group." She gestured at the people milling about and talking.