You’re perfect, and I see you. No, don’t give me excuses, don’t tell me why I’m wrong. I’m looking at you right now and what I see is a lovely human being who, faults and all, is the only version of them in existence. You are you, and you are perfect, so tell me what you want and let me give it to you.– Julia Rivers
My job isn’t to write porn, nor is it to titillate the masses. No, my job is to see you and to listen to what you desire. My job is to hear what you’re telling me and understand what lies underneath. What words are whispered into the silence, between the pauses and the denials, between the gaps and the hesitations. My job is to see you and to show you that you are valid. Your kinks aren’t shameful, nor are they repulsive.
You’re a beautiful, valid human being precisely because you know what you want and what you like.
I sent out a blind questionnaire and asked people for the silliest prompts for an erotic story that they could think of. I told them that it would be made public, so to go ahead and go wild. You can imagine the kinds of results I got, but one stood out.
It was a simple idea, but it was one that would require work, one that would require a careful hand, and that would stretch my imagination to the limit.
They wanted me to write an erotic story about plates. How could I say no?
Loyo sat on her shelf, staring. She’d been there for a week, and she’d been unable to take her eyes off the handsome, robust stoneware plate across from her. It was so…solid.
She, herself, was delicate and fine; Chinaware made in the Emperor’s very own pottery. She was fragile and… He was looking at her; she could feel it in her clay. She wanted to roll away, to hide her exposed well, but the stand she was on kept her in place. The cracks in her glazing were starting to tingle. She didn’t know what to do!
Yolo was doing his best to make himself stand out. He’d been in the antique shop for nearly two months, and, he knew, he was nearing the end of his shelf life. If he weren’t sold soon, he’d be sent to the auction, then, if that didn’t work out…
He didn’t want to think about that. He knew that he wasn’t exactly to everyone’s taste; he had a chip on his base, and his lip had been dented thirty years ago when his previous owner had left a metal container on him for too long, but he was still good. He was still usable and strong. He could take more than any of the others here; they couldn’t give up on him now.
He looked across at the lovely chinaware that had been brought in the other week. She was so beautiful. He could lose himself staring at her coiled blue-dragon glaze and marvelled that her gold-leaf pattern was still present and spread over her entire rim. She’d been loved. She’d been cared for. She was way out of his-
The bell above the door chimed.
“Really?” Roy groaned. “Another antique shop? We’ve been to seven already!”
“And we’ll go to seven more until I find what I wa-” Megan began but stopped when she saw it. “Oh, Roy! Look! Look, it’s perfect!” She dashed across the shop before the old lady behind the counter had even registered that she was there. Pressing her hands to the glass case, she squealed, “I want it!”
Roy sighed and turned away. Megan had wanted the last three ‘ancient Chinese plates’ she’d seen too, but they’d all been fake.
“Remember,” he reminded her. “You can’t have anything until I find one that I like too-” A deep green glaze caught his eye. It was sat there, exposed and available for anyone to touch. A fake ‘Royal Stafford Blue’ sat to its right, and a gaudy late seventeenth-century French creation was to its left, but there was something about the simplicity of this stoneware plate that spoke to him. The underside was a deep, russet brown, and when he turned it over, whatever mark there’d been to show who’d made it had long since faded.
“You’ve been through the wars, haven’t you, buddy?” he whispered and chuckled when the shopkeeper flashed him a confused glare. “We’ll take it,” he said, tracing the line of the rim and delighting when he found a dent. “Imperfections and all.”
“And this!” Megan cried. “I want this one too! The one with the dragon!“
He was pressed into her. Loyo whimpered as she felt his hard base crush against her delicate well and tried to contain herself. He’d been thrust on top of her when the lady had wrapped them and placed them into their box, but she hadn’t expected it to be like this.
He was just as solid as she’d imagined, but he was so much thicker than she’d thought possible. She panted as his lip touched hers again and felt her dragon stir. She’d heard that stacking could be intimate, but no one had warned her that it could feel this good.
Yolo’s mind was reeling. His owner had stroked him all over before handing him to the shopkeeper, and now… Now he was nestled inside of his chinaware crush, and she was responding to him. They’d been forcibly stacked, and his heart had gone out to the delicate beauty beneath him, but as he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of his base rubbing her and his lip touching hers, he’d felt something else as well. There was friction. He was grinding into her, and she liked it.
‘How could I get so lucky?’ he thought and stared up at the cardboard roof of his box. ‘I thought no one wanted me… I thought that she’d… But this, it feels so intense! Is this what… Could it be? Are we going to rub off?’
‘Yes! Yes! Don’t stop now!’ Loyo gasped. ‘I’m so close! I didn’t think that stacking could be this good! Oh, please! One more! Grind me again! Please leave your impression on me! Do it! Yes! Grind harder! More! I love it! MORE!’
‘Fuck!’ Yolo cried and felt the glaze of his darling beginning to transfer to his base. ‘We’re doing it! We’re stacking! We’re fucking stacking! I’m gonna rub off! I’m gonna rub off on you! Yes! Yes, my China, yes! Merge with me!’
‘I’m yours! Take me!’ Loyo begged. ‘Have it, have it all! I can feel you! I’m transferring! I’M MERGING! I’M YOURS FOREVER!’
“Oh no!” Megan cried, lunging for the box as it began to slide across the car seat. “Careful! They’re bouncing everywhere!”
Roy smirked and pulled over to the side of the road. He’d deliberately gone through the back roads, and there wasn’t another soul for miles.
“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” he purred and saw Megan blush. It was their ninth anniversary. “How about we make sure they don’t feel left out, humm?” He licked his lips and leaned forward.
“Happy pottery year, my love,” he whispered.
Megan smiled. “Happy pottery year, my darling.”
Their lips pressed together in a kiss, and they were lost.
‘I love you,’ Loyo thought, embracing the plate above her. ‘I’ll never forget you.’
‘Forever,’ Yolo gasped. ‘You’re with me forever.’ They’d been stacked, and it was perfect. ‘I love you,’ he echoed and thought he felt the caress of a dragon against his underside. ‘You leave a lasting impression.’
If I can do this with plates, imagine what I can do for you.
You aren’t weird, you aren’t repulsive and you aren’t invisible. Let me see who you are, and I’ll show you just how special your story is. You have my permission to embrace your desire and…