His White Iris (Friday Flash)

I know I've been kind of quiet recently. There's been a lot going on—some of it exciting, some of it more challenging than I'd like. Some of you may have already seen the exciting news that Oleander Plume and the Sisters in Smut asked me to contribute a story for Chemical [se]X Volume 2. Volume 1 was all kinds of awesome and I wrote a glowing review of it here. So, naturally, I was beyond thrilled to be included in Chemical [se]X Volume 2. You'll be reading a lot more about it in the coming months, but until then, I have some unrelated naughtiness for you.

A few days ago, my mind was wandering, as it's prone to do, and I found myself thinking about irises—one of my favorite flowers. My mother used to grow them when we still lived in Pennsylvania. At first, I pictured the standard purple variety, but then I imagined a beautiful, pristine white bearded iris. That made me remember the famous Van Gogh painting you can see here.

My brain has been drifting back to that painting off and on until I woke up early this morning and lay awake contemplating it again. This conversation began forming in my head and I couldn't leave it alone. I knew it was pointless trying to go back to sleep, so I got up and started writing this. I didn't know where it was leading, but that is often the way with me.

The literary reference is Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night."

I'm linking this to F. Leonora Solomon's Friday Flash, but it doesn't follow this week's "Boudoir" prompt. Please click on the badge below to read the other wonderful Friday Flash offerings!

Hope you enjoy my mind's wild journey,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

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His White Iris

By Ria Restrepo

Copyright ©2018. All rights reserved.

"That's me." I nodded towards the painting of a lone white iris among a field of purple ones.

Master wrapped his arm around my waist, his front flush against my back. "What?"

"The white iris."

"Isolated?" I felt his body stiffen, heard the tension in his voice.

"No, defiant against conformity." I smiled back at him. "Rage, rage against the ordinary."

Grinning, he relaxed. "Isn't it 'against the dying of the light?'"

"That too." I resumed admiring Van Gogh's artistry.

His warm breath teased my ear. "No one could ever accuse you of being ordinary."

Nor him, either. We were two singular, like-minded beings who managed to find each other against heavy odds. That was enough proof of divinity in the random universe for me.

"That guy has been watching you."

Shaking off my reverie, I looked back at him. "Who?"

He subtly jerked his head to the side. "Over there. Tan slacks. Blue shirt."

Around him, I was so absorbed by his magnetic presence I rarely noticed or cared about anyone else. But I followed his gaze and saw the man in question. He was mid-thirties, good looking—just a guy. Our eyes locked momentarily, then he looked away.

"So what?"

He ground his growing erection against my ass. "We should show him what an extraordinarily dirty girl you are?"

That easily he lit the match to my libido. I loved how his filthy mind worked.

"Where?"

"Men's room."

My cunt was already flooding with juices.

"Challenge accepted."

Making eye contact with the stranger, I flashed an alluring smile. Crooking my finger, I motioned for him to follow us. Then, hand in hand, we walked to the nearest restroom. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if he was behind us. Clearly, he was eager. So was I.

Master made sure the coast was clear before ushering the stranger and me inside, then locked the door behind us.

"She's mine," Master told the stranger. "You can watch."

The man nodded.

Master quickly pulled me over to a vanity with several sinks. In the large mirror, I saw the stranger, his back to the door, already rubbing his cock through his slacks.

I bent over, bracing my hands on the counter, spreading my legs apart. Master pulled a thin strap of my sundress over my shoulder, baring one breast.

"He only gets a glimpse."

Master fondled my tit, pinching the nipple until I whimpered. His free hand lifted my dress up over my ass and pushed aside my thong. His fingers found my slick cunt lips.

"So wet and ready."

"Always. Just for you."

Then he was inside me, fucking me hard and fast, his teeth marking my shoulder. I briefly saw the stranger jerking his freed cock furiously before the illicitness sent me hurtling over the edge. Master pulled out and came on my ass, where it would stay for the rest of the day.

Master's ardent gaze met mine in the mirror. "Never ordinary."

Not with him.