[scat]

English is not my native language as you surely notice.
so i can't write stories .
while, i have a pair of short stories begun  in french so i have four questions :

1- may i post stories in french ?

2- may i post stories with a lot of syntaxis or grammatical errors ?

2- can someone help me traducing a part of the totality of the stories ?

4- must i throw the stories at the pin ?

thanks to everybody who will answer.

[Zespara Alathar]

Well, you could always have someone edit your stories to ensure proper English and grammar before they get posted here.  🙂

Z

[David C. Matthews]

There's no rule saying you couldn't post in French… the only disadvantage to that is that (I'm assuming) only a few of our fellow members could read French.

Zespara has very good advice: have someone else read over your stories first to correct grammar, spelling and syntax errors.

It's all about getting a wider readership for your writings.

[Fonk]

I can offer my services as a translator, if you'd like. I can't promise that I'll be very quick with the translations, nor that they would be any good. However, I'd love to try. 🙂

[scat]

here is the beginning of a story in french.
if there are any french readers please reply (in english of course)
thanks to [glow=red,2,300]Fonk[/glow] to try translate.

in future i'll try to write in english.

Comme tous les dimanches après-midi, je me dirigeais vers la gare pour prendre le train. Je travaillais à 200 km de chez-moi et c’était pour moi, le moyen de déplacement le plus pratique. Je suivais une jeune femme en talons aiguilles qui portait deux valises énormes. Elle avait de long cheveux blonds et malgré le long manteau qui cachait complètement son corps, elle semblait très sexy. Je me dépêcha d’arriver à sa hauteur et je lui demanda si elle avait besoin d’un peu d’aide. Elle me regarda de haut en bas puis me répondit :
« c’est très gentil … mais je vais me débrouiller. Merci quand même ! »
Comme j’insista lourdement elle posa une valise par terre.
« si vous insistez… » dit-elle en souriant.
Je n’ai jamais eu aussi honte de ma vie, lorsque j’ai essayé de soulever la valise elle ne décolla même pas du sol, elle ne bougea pas d’un millimètre. Je n’osais pas la regarder et essayais encore à deux mains mais c’était peine perdue. Je souleva enfin la tête pour bafouiller ces mots :
« je suis désolé mais je … »
« ce n’est rien, je vais m’en occuper. Tenez… » tandis qu’elle soulevait la valise d’une main elle me tendit le sac de voyage qu’elle avait en bandoulière. Je le laissa tomber dans un premier temps, car je ne pouvais pas le soulever à bout de bras, puis je le chargea sur une épaule et tant bien que mal, je commença à avancer. Mes genoux me portaient à peine tant le sac était lourd mais je me sentais obligé de le porter jusqu’à la gare : de quoi aurait-je eu l’air !
je marchais derrière elle de sorte qu’elle ne voit pas dans quel état de décomposition je me trouvais et essayais de sourire chaque fois qu’elle me regardait. Arrivé à la gare, je pouvais à peine respirer. Je m’accroupis pour poser le sac car je ne pouvais même pas le soulever de mon épaule puis je me releva péniblement. Elle me regardait en souriant. Je n’osais pas soutenir son regard tellement j’avais honte de moi. Je baissa la tête. Elle se tenait debout, le manteau à peine entrouvert et comme elle portait une mini jupe, je pouvais voir l’incroyable musculature de ses jambes. A cette vision, je ne pu m’empêcher de bander et je crois qu’elle s’en aperçu.
« Tu crois que tu pourrais porter mon sac encore 200 mètres ? » me demanda t’elle.
« oui, oui, … je crois. »
Elle sourit, reprit ses deux valises et me dit :
« suis moi ! »
Je la suivis jusqu’aux toilettes des filles, là, elle bloqua la porte avec ses deux valises puis se tourna vers moi.
« c’était très gentil de vouloir m’aider mais je crois que tu n’est pas assez costaud, pas vrai ? »
je n’osais pas la regarder et encore moins répondre.
« déshabille-toi ! »dit-elle
« çà va pas ! …je m’excuse je dois y aller. »
elle m’attrapa par le bras et me colla contre-elle avec une telle force que je compris qu’il était inutile de résister. Je lui demanda de me lâcher et commença à me déshabiller. Lorsque ce fut fait, elle me mis face au miroir et se plaça derrière moi. Je regarda dans le miroir, et pour la première fois, je me vit à côté de la jeune femme. Elle faisait 20 cm de plus que moi et j’aurais pu rentrer tout habillé dans une des manches de son manteau : j’étais minuscule devant elle.
Elle me regarda dans le reflet du miroir et me dit :
« lève tes bras et contracte tes biceps ! »
Elle me regarda faire et me pris le bras entre le pouce et l’index. Quand elle commença à serrer le muscle se déroba et elle pouvait quasiment toucher l’os avec ses doigt. Je hurla de douleur.
« Oh ! pardon, je suis désolée ! » s’excusa t’elle. « reprend la pose s’il te plait »
je recommença mon double biceps tandis que je la vit, dans le miroir, enlever son manteau.
C’était incroyable : elle n’avait pas la moindre trace de graisse superflue, ses muscles étaient saillants et volumineux mais sans stries. Elle avait une musculature à faire pâlir d’envie le plus gros des bodybuilders.
Elle fit, elle aussi, un double biceps. Je la regardais toujours dans le reflet du miroir. Son tour de biceps, c’était mon tour de taille. Elle éclata de rire en voyant ma tête :
« çà c’est du biceps ! » Elle pris mes poings dans ses main et colla ses bras contre les miens. Je la sentais collée contre moi et mon sexe devenait de plus en plus gros. Je pouvais sentir la chaleur de son corps. Je pouvais sentir ses muscles se détendre, se contracter, devenir tour à tour souples comme du caoutchouc ou durs comme le roc.
Elle me retourna et me demanda de lui toucher ses biceps.
« Vas-y, n’aie pas peur ! ils ne mordent pas ! »
J’essaya de prendre son bras entre mes mains mais je ne pouvais pas même pas couvrir  son énorme biceps.
« çà te plait petit mec ? »
Je la regardais sans répondre mais elle connaissait déjà ma réponse : bien sûr que j’aimais çà !.
Elle passa sa main entre mes jambes et me souleva avec une main sans le moindre effort, puis elle introduisit mon sexe dans le sien et commença à me déplacer d’avant en arrière. Elle maintenait l’autre bras en l’air avec son énorme biceps contracté et me regardait en souriant.

[Fonk]

OK, here goes nuthin'! *cracks knuckles* 😉

Story Starts Here

Like every Sunday afternoon, I was walking towards the station to take the train. I worked 200 kilometres away and, for me, it was the most practical method of transportation around. I was following a young woman in stiletto heels who was carrying two enormous suitcases. She had long blonde hair and, despite the coat that completely covered her body, she seemed very sexy. I hurried to catch up to her and ask if she needed any help. She looked me up and down and replied:

"That's very kind… but I'm going to manage. Thanks all the same!"

I kept insisting, so she put one of the suitcases down.

"If you insist…" she said, smiling.

I have never been so ashamed in my life as when I tried to pick up that suitcase. She didn't move a muscle. I didn't dare to look at her and tried again with both hands but it was hopeless. I lifted my head and mumbled the words:

"I'm sorry but I…"

"It's nothing, I'll take care of it. Here…" She lifted the suitcase in one hand and passed me her shoulder bag. I dropped it straightaway because I couldn't lift it with one hand but I managed to put it on my shoulder, and, slowly, began to walk forward. My legs could barely hold me upright, the bag was so heavy, but I felt obliged to carry it to the station, or at least to look like I could!

I walked behind her so that she couldn't tell how bad I was feeling and tried to smile every time she looked at me. When we got to the train station, I could hardly breathe. I bent down to drop the bag, since I couldn't lift it from my shoulder, and got up again unsteadily. She looked at me and smiled. I didn't dare look back at her as I was so ashamed of myself. I just lowered my head. She was standing up straight with her coat barely done. As she was wearing a mini-skirt, I could see the incredible musculature of her legs. I couldn't help but have the natural male reaction and I think she noticed.

"Do you think you could carry my bag for 200 more metres?" she asked me.

"Yeah, sure… I think."

She smiled, picked up her suitcases again and said "Follow me!"

I followed her to the women's toilets and, there, she blocked the door with her two suitcases and turned to me.

"It was very nice of you to want to help me but I don't think you're very strong, are you?"

I didn't dare look at her, much less respond.

"Strip!" she commanded.

"No way! I think I should be going!"

She caught me by the arm and pulled me to her with such force that I understood it would be useless to resist. I asked her to let go of me and started to take my clothes off. Once that was done, she made me stand in front of the mirror whilst she stood behind me. I looked in the mirror and, for the first time, saw myself next to the young woman. She was 20cm taller than me and I could have got lost in one of the sleeves of her coat: I was tiny compared to her.

She looked at me in the mirror and commanded, "Lift your arm and flex your biceps!"

She watched me do just that and took my arm between her thumb and index finger. When she started to squeeze, the muscle gave way and she almost touched the bone. I screamed in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she excused herself. "Do the pose again, please."

I took up the double biceps pose again and saw her, in the mirror, take her coat off. It was incredible: she didn't have the slightest trace of visible fat; her muscles were large and bulging but had no striations. She had a body that would make even the biggest bodybuilders green with envy.

Then she did a double biceps pose. I kept looking at her in the mirror. Her biceps were about the size of my waist. She burst out laughing when she saw the face I was making.

"Now THOSE are biceps!" She took my fists in her hand and put her arms against mine. I could feel her next to me and feel myself get more and more hard. I could feel the heat of her body. I could feel her muscles relax, contract, become at one moment supple like rubber and the next hard as rock.

She turned around and demanded that I touch her biceps: "Go on, don't be afraid! They don't bite!"

I tried to take her arm in my hands but I couldn't cover her biceps.

"Is that good, little man?"

I looked at her without saying anything but she already knew my reply: of course I liked it! She put a hand between my legs and picked me up, one-handed, without the slightest effort. Then she put my cock in her pussy and began to move me in and out. She kept her other arm flexed and looked at me, smiling.

Story Ends Here

Hope that's what you were looking for, dear sir! 🙂

[scat]

i'm very happy you have translated it. read it has been like read a new story for me.  i liked the spaces you put.
i'm sure i'm unnable to do that. thanks a lot.
tell me what are the stories you like and perhaps i can write one for you (in french of course). in that case i send it by personal message and you decide if you translate and/or post it.

oh..please tell me what s the meaning of … "OK, here goes nuthin'! *cracks knuckles* "   😕

thank you very much.

[Fonk]

oh..please tell me what s the meaning of … "OK, here goes nuthin'! *cracks knuckles* "   😕

thank you very much.

That's just me being silly. "Here goes nothing" is something you used to hear on American TV shows when the hero was about to do something he (or, even better, she :wink:) didn't think would work. I wasn't sure, when I started, if I could translate your story properly! 😮

Also, I crack my knuckles to loosen up before I start something difficult.

So, yes, just me being silly! 😉

[Vic]

Thank you Scat, nice story.  Thank you Fonk, good of you to translate.

[ze fly]

Encore bravo pour l'effort Scat! Réellement impressionnant… 🙂

And a big thanks to Fonk for the help you gave him to translate it!!

The only thing that I'd change would be:
« c’était très gentil de vouloir m’aider mais je crois que tu n’est pas assez costaud, pas vrai ? »
You translated it by :
"It was very nice of you to want to help me but I don't think you're very strong, are you?"
I'd for my part rather say (I know that I'm pernickety  :roll:):
"that was very kind of you to want to help, but I don't think you are strong enough, are you?"

[Author]

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