Thursday, January 31, 2019

Tragedy Averted (Friday Flash #39)

I've been contemplating the Friday Flash prompt of an archer on and off for much of the week. This is the story that emerged. What can I say, I have a thing for musicians. It doesn't really have anything to do with an archer. I actually struggled to find a way to include the prompt.

I also struggled with the title. Sometimes titles are easy and come to me early on. This one didn't. The opening was the easy part, but I wasn't sure where it was going. Eventually, it came to me and so did the title.

The Tom Petty song mentioned, "I Won't Back Down," is my all-time favorite Petty song. "Runnin' Down a Dream" being a close second. There's a video of "I Won't Back Down" after the story for your musical enjoyment.

Please click on the badge below the story to read all the other Friday Flash posts!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Tragedy Averted
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Sitting on a park bench, I was reading while enjoying the warmth of a beautiful morning. When the sun was suddenly eclipsed, I looked up to see a guy standing in front of me with a guitar case.

A golden halo of light surrounding him, he smiled down at me. "Mind if I have a seat?"

"No. Go ahead."

This happened to me a lot. I'd be out somewhere, minding my own business, and a random stranger would come up to me and start talking. I guess I had the kind of aura that attracted people needing a friendly ear.

Depending on the subject matter, I sometimes just smiled politely, nodding and murmuring vague sounds when necessary. Other times, I engaged eagerly, making a temporary friend.

Resuming my reading was impossible as he settled on the other side of the bench. He was good-looking and I found the guitar intriguing. As I subtly watched, he placed the case on the ground in front of him, opened it, and pulled out a black and white guitar.

He was focused on his task, making sure the instrument was properly tuned, not paying me any attention. I realized he intended to play for tips. That was a new one.

Just when I thought he'd forgotten about me, he looked over. "Name a song."

Was he for real? "Anything?"

He gave one confident nod.

"Tom Petty. 'I Won't Back Down.'"

My heart almost stopped at his breath-taking grin. "I love that song."

"Yeah, me too." It was my anthem.

He started playing and singing with a captivating voice, quickly drawing listeners and generous tips. People actually climbed onto a statue of an archer so they could see over the crowd. When he shifted into his own music, it was just as compelling as him.

Occasionally, he'd flash me a brilliant smile, making my panties wetter by the second.

Later that evening, we stumbled into his nearby apartment, locked in a fervent kiss.

Panting, he pulled back. "I've wanted to do that all day."

"Me too." I slid my hand down to explore his blatant erection.

He groaned and his guitar case hit floor. Then his hand was down inside my leggings feeling my slick folds. "Fuck you're wet."

"For you." I unzipped his jeans and freed his hard cock.

He reclaimed my mouth and there was no more talking.

A trail of clothes marked our meandering path to a couch where we collapsed. His hands holding mine above my head, he sweetly tormented my nipple with his teeth as he slid deep inside me. Moaning, I arched against him, lost in the hedonism, lost in him. Impetuous and zealous, we writhed together, the music of our pleasure filling the small room.

Much later, with him spooning behind me on the couch and his come trailing down my thigh, I laughed to myself.

"What's funny?"

"Just wondering what you'd have done if I'd said, 'Achy Breaky Heart.'"

He chuckled. "Thankfully, we avoided that tragic situation."

Monday, January 28, 2019

Inspiration (Masturbation Monday #230)

Anyone who has been paying attention to my blog posts probably won't be surprised that I couldn't resist this week's enticing Masturbation Monday inspirational picture from sub-Bee. I took some liberties with it to suit my naughty purposes, but I think I retained the spirit of the picture.

Please click on the badge below the story to read all the other Masturbation Monday posts!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Still blissed out after an intense orgasm, I lay on my stomach, slowly coming back to earth. I was barely aware of his warm weight sprawled out beside me and the mixture of our come seeping from my tender sex.

The bed shifted as he moved closer, then lightly trailed his finger down my spine. Murmuring contentedly at his touch, I smiled as he kept going past my lower back and over my ass to delve between my legs. I gasped when he grazed my cunt lips, still hypersensitive from the hard fucking he'd given me earlier.

His fingers slid between my folds, exploring my slickness. "Mmm, such a well-used little cunt."

"I love being messy with your come." I lifted one leg up and out, raising my hips slightly to give him better access.

He didn't waste any time accepting my invitation and slipped a finger deep inside my creamy sheath. I moaned as he worked it in and out, lazily teasing my inner walls.

Then he removed it and I felt his come-coated finger tracing a line down my back. Giggling, I tried to turn over, but he stopped me by placing his forearm across my shoulder.

"Stay still." I could hear the humor lacing his voice.

"What are you doing?"

"I have an idea."

My curiosity raged as he slid his finger back inside me, but I quickly decided to be a good girl and see where his dirty mind led. After a couple passes, not quite hitting the spot where I really craved his touch, he withdrew his finger and made another slick line down my back. And so it went, several more times, him renewing my arousal as he gathered our juices and used them to paint lines on my back—five in all.

Finally, it hit me. "A music staff?"


His finger was inside me again, curving upwards to gently stroke my G-spot ever so briefly. He left me craving more to scrawl the familiar shape of a treble clef between my shoulder blades.

"Wouldn't a pen and paper be more efficient?"

I struggled to keep still as he rubbed the front of my cunt with more pressure, but couldn't stop the whimper that escaped when he left me once more. This time he drew a sharp—just one, so G major—followed by the time signature.

"Since you inspired it, you should wear my come and my music."

My breathing quickened as he continued his sweet torment to emblazon his masterpiece on my skin. A quarter note, a couple eighth notes, another quarter note…

I couldn't really tell where the notes fell, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate as I got closer to coming all over his fingers.

"Hmm, I think I need more come for the next phrase."

"If you keep going, I'll give you enough cunt cream for a symphony."

He chuckled. "I have a better idea. Turn over."

I looked at him over my shoulder. "But that would ruin all your hard work."

He rolled his eyes. "It's already in my head. Now do as you're told, greedy girl."

I yelped when he slapped my ass for emphasis, then laughed as I turned onto my back.

When he straddled my chest, I saw he was big and hard, the head of his cock already glistening with pre-come.

His hand wrapped around the shaft, he guided it to my mouth. "Get it nice and wet for me."

That wasn't something I needed to be told twice. Lifting my head, I took him in my mouth, savoring the tangy, salty taste of both of us on his skin. He gripped my hair in his free hand and urged me to suck him deeper until he was nudging the back of my throat. I gagged a bit, drenching his cock in saliva.

After a few more strokes, he pulled himself out of my mouth. As I caught my breath, he shifted back and placed his slick cock between my tits. I knew immediately what he had in mind. He pushed my ample flesh together, completely enveloping his cock, and started fucking my tits.

Even though I was aching for another orgasm, I loved watching the pleasure wash over his handsome face and feeling his hard, hot shaft moving between my cleavage. I ran my hands up his thighs, enjoying the way his coarse hair tickled my palms and the play of his muscles under his skin.

"How does the song go?"

He looked down at me with heavy-lidded eyes and hummed a hauntingly sweet melody. I just listened of a moment, meeting his passionate gaze. Then I leaned forward to give the head of his cock teasing licks and sucking kisses every time it emerged from between my tits.

His voice faltered as his breathing got heavier, until he stopped humming entirely. He shifted his hold on my tits so he could pinch my nipples between his fingers, making me moan around his cock. My needy cunt demanded relief, but I could only press my thighs together.

Rocking his hips faster, he increased the pressure on nipples as his thrusts became harder, his balls slapping the underside of my tits. Suddenly, he released one breast and grabbed my hair to ease my mouth off his cock. With a series of low grunts, he shot his thick, abundant load all over my upper chest, neck, and my chin.

When his breathing calmed, he smiled down at me. "More than enough for the next phrase."

Chuckling, I watched as he shifted so he was kneeling beside me. He took a swipe of his come off my chin and drew a line along the length of my torso all the way to my shaved pussy. He continued what he started on my back, alternately coating his finger to write his music and tormenting my hard nipples. It was almost impossible not to arch my back and writhe beneath his clever fingers.

By the time the notes reached my lower abdomen, I couldn't take it anymore. "Please…"

"Please what, babygirl?"

"Please, let me come."

He feigned a sigh. "Okay, but you have to stay covered in my come for the rest of the day."

I nodded my head eagerly. "Yes, sir."

Moving to the bottom of the bed, he lay down between my legs, forcing my thighs wide apart. For a moment, his gaze met mine as he licked up the length of my drenched slit. But then his tongue found my clit and I was too lost in the sensations to keep my head up. Sliding two fingers deep inside me, he reminded me that he was talented in more ways than one.

My pleasure quickly built as he played my cunt like a virtuoso. Clenching the sheets in a death grip, I came apart beneath him, my orgasm ripping through me so fiercely I filled the room with my wailing cries. It took a little while for me to recover from that earth-shattering release.

Eventually, I looked down at him still lying between my legs, his chin resting on my thigh. "What will you call the song?"

His wet lips curved into a wicked smile. "'Leaving My Mark.'"

Sounded like a hit to me.

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Secret Desires (Wicked Wednesday #347)

One of my favorite erotic tropes involving an older man and younger woman pairing is the professor/student dynamic. In my Chemical [se]X Volume 2 story, "Elevator Confidential," my protagonist describes a similar scenario to the story below—but not the same. Another element I find very arousing is spanking. It's only briefly mentioned in "Elevator Confidential," but the following story involves the protagonist exploring her secret desire to be spanked.

This was written for the Wicked Wednesday "Explore" prompt. Yes, I know it's a little long. I'll happily take the spanking. (wicked grin)

Please click on the badge below the story to read all the other Wicked Wednesday posts!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Warning: Contains spanking and dirty talk with name calling.

Secret Desires
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Chewing on my lower lip, I stared at the file labeled "Private" with my finger hovering over the trackpad button. My curiosity was the devil on my shoulder urging me on while the angel demanded that I respect my mentor's privacy.

I'd come by his office after hours to pick up the essays he wanted me to read from his Introduction to American Literature course. A teaching assistant's job was never done. Not that I minded. He was pretty cool as faculty advisors went and actually seemed to value my opinion.

His office had been locked and dark when I entered, but he'd left his laptop on his desk—which was strange. He usually took it everywhere he went. Shrugging off the oddity, I shifted the laptop aside to get at the folder I needed. That's when the computer woke up from sleep mode and I noticed the tempting icon.

I sat down in his leather chair as good and bad waged war in my psyche. My well-suppressed wicked side was very persuasive—and whiny. I could almost hear it saying, "If he really wants to keep it secret, it'll be password protected. And you never let me have any fun!"

It had a point—on both counts.

I double-clicked the icon, before my annoying virtuous side could make an equally valid counterargument.

The file wasn't password protected, instantly revealing a couple dozen documents with very intriguing titles. One immediately caught my attention. There was no turning back at that point. My dirty little secret was that I loved reading smut on the internet, the trashier the better.

That my mild-mannered, well-respected professor appeared to be writing dirty stories was a siren song I couldn't resist. When I opened the story, I discovered it was highly erotic, but much better written than most of the stuff I'd indulged in online. My professor and I appeared to have the same taste in porn, which I found thrilling.

In my prurient explorations, I'd learned that I was most aroused by stories of older men dominating willing younger women. I was especially fascinated with scenes involving spanking. They never failed to make me wet and achy.

Unfortunately, when I worked up the nerve to tell my feminist boyfriend about my urges, he acted like I'd confessed I abused puppies and kittens. That had been the beginning of the end of our relationship. Not that I was all that broken up about it. It was fine if he wasn't into it, but him being so judgmental was a big turn-off.

Still, I hadn't broached the subject with anyone else since. I didn't even know how to go about finding a like-minded partner. Those kinky dating websites were a little too intimidating. But clearly my professor and I had similar naughty interests. What was even more titillating were the characters in the story I was reading.

The protagonist was a college professor very much like him who had a forbidden crush on his teaching assistant—who sounded an awful lot like me. Could art really be imitating life here? That thought alone had me squirming in his chair, getting wetter by the second.

When the fictional professor found his TA snooping on his computer and punished her with a thorough spanking, my brain was too hormone addled to consider the implications. Enthralled by his vivid erotic descriptions, I didn't think twice before I pushed up my skirt and slid my fingers beneath my drenched panties.

The professor had just finished warming her ass and was exploring her slick folds with his questing fingers as I worked my clit hard and fast, so very close to coming…

"Enjoying yourself?"

My heart jumped as fast as I did out of the chair, yanking my hand from my panties and shoving my skirt back down.

There my mentor stood in the doorway, his eyes gleaming and his distracting lips spread into a wide grin.

I opened my mouth to make what surely would have been an absurd explanation, but he held up his hand and saved me further embarrassment. "Relax, you're not in trouble."

That didn't slow down my heart as much as it would have if he didn't come inside the office, then shut and lock the door behind him. Although that probably should've made me want to run for the hills screaming bloody murder, I was more excited than afraid. I trusted that he wouldn't touch me without my consent.

Leaning against the door, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wanted you to read those stories."

"You did?" I could barely get the words out past my tight throat.

He nodded. "Out of curiosity, which story were you reading?"

"Spanking Sue."

"One of my favorites." He rubbed his jaw like he did when he was contemplating something important. "Did you read any others?"


"They're all about you."


"Yes. Do you think I'm a horrible pig?"

I shook my head. "No."

"They were just fantasies. A way to vent all the desires I knew I could never act on. Then you forgot your phone here a few weeks ago and I accidentally saw a text from your boyfriend—well, your ex-boyfriend."

If my face wasn't red before, it certainly was then. "Oh."

"What kind of jackass breaks up with someone in a text message?"

I couldn't help smirking. "The kind of jackass who thinks I'm a freak because I asked him to spank me."

"Have you ever been spanked?"


"Do you want me to spank you?"

I didn't have to think about it. "Yes."

The corner of his mouth curved upwards. "Well, you have been a naughty girl."

"Yes," I hissed.

He unfolded his arms and walked towards me. "Do you like me calling you a naughty girl?"

"Oh yes."

Reaching me, he tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "What else do you like?"

"All those filthy names you used in your story." My heart hammered at his closeness.

"Tell me."

"Slut, bitch, whore…cunt."

"Mmm, you are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

I was going to dissolved into a puddle of girl come at his feet. "Yes…sir."

"Good girl, but that's not going to save your ass."

He held out his hand and I placed mine in his. In one swift move, he sat in his chair and pulled me over his lap, making me gasp. As I braced my hands of the floor, he caressed my backside, kneading the flesh in his strong hands.

"Say 'red' if you want me to stop. At any point. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

I held my breath as he lifted my skirt, then lowered my panties. For a moment, he fondled my bare skin with his warm hand, making my inner muscles tighten in anticipation.

He murmured an approving sound. "I love your ass."

When he slapped one cheek hard, all the air whooshed out of my lungs as a lightning bolt of sensation went straight to my core. As expected, there was the sharp sting of flesh meeting flesh, but the pain seemed to transform as it traveled along my nerve endings, causing a sympathetic throbbing in my clit that was pure wanton need.

His second smack on the opposite side was just as hard and pulled a low moan from deep in my chest. He continued spanking me in a steady rhythm, alternating cheeks. The combination of the pain/pleasure and the illicitness of the whole scene built my arousal to unimaginable levels. I melted in his lap, boneless, every muscle relaxed, so lost in the sensations overwhelming my body I was barely aware of my cunt juices sliding down my quivering thighs.

By the time he stopped, my ass felt like it was glowing red. The lightest touch of his finger made me gasp and tightly grip his leg.

"Such a glorious color."


"What do you need, little cunt?"

Forming a coherent thought was almost impossible. "Touch me…please."

Knowing exactly what I needed, he took pity on me, slipped his fingers down between my slick cunt lips, and found my hypersensitive clit. With the gentlest of strokes, he quickly sent me soaring into the most intense orgasm I'd ever experienced.

Still basking in the afterglow, I gradually became more aware of my body and surroundings. He was soothingly petting my back in long passes.

I stayed there for a moment, relishing his calming touch, then slid off his lap onto the floor between his legs. Kneeling at his feet, I looked up from the erection straining his slacks to his hooded eyes. Not thinking twice about it, I reached up and freed his hard cock.

He took hold of my long hair and forced me to look up at him again. "What's on your mind, dirty girl?"

"I want to show you what else I like."

"And what's that?"

I grinned up at him. "Sucking cock."

Loosening his hold, he groaned long and low as I took him deep into my mouth. "Your ex is a fucking idiot."

I couldn't have agreed more.

Thursday, January 17, 2019

Lucky's (Friday Flash #38)

Since there was some grumbling about me being a wicked tease for ending my last story the way I did, I decided to write a rare sequel using this week's Friday Flash inspirational picture. F. Leonora Solomon didn't make it easy on me, but I think I made the picture of a dusty horseshoe work. Never let it be said that I leave readers hanging.

Although this is a sequel to "If You Dare," I think it does work as a stand-alone too. Hopefully, this one is a little more satisfying.

As always, please click on the badge below to read all the other Friday Flash posts.

Happy reading,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Warning: Some dirty talk with name calling.

By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

I looked around the ramshackle bar uncertainly. A horseshoe that once decorated the wall had fallen down, trapped behind the metal grating covering a frosted window. Cobwebs abounded.

"Are you sure about this?"

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. "Absolutely. This place needs to be restored to its former glory."

I turned and grinned up at him. "I hate to break it to you, but this place was a dive at best."

His longish hair was silver now and a few more lines enhanced his features, but his blue eyes were as bright as ever. "Then it'll be the best dive in town, showcasing the hottest new talent."

His enthusiasm was infectious.

"Maybe you could turn the upper floor into a recording studio."

"There's the spirit!" He pulled me close, letting me feel that his excitement went beyond acquiring the venue where he got his start. "Remember the first time you came to see me here?"

"After you slipped me that note at the coffeeshop?"

Surprised he'd led me to a seedy club, I was curious enough to return when it opened.

Leaning down, he nuzzled my neck. "Mmm-hmm."

"You enraptured the rowdy crowd with your voice and lyrics." Just like me.

His teeth grazed my earlobe, making me gasp. "Then I took you backstage…"

"To that closet they called a dressing room…"

"Where you confessed all your dirty secrets…"

"And you anointed my tits with your come."

"Fuck yeah."

He ground his erection against my belly, causing my cunt to clench in anticipation.

"It's vaguely familiar."

Chuckling, he backed me up into a wooded post. "Perhaps I should refresh your memory."

"Think you can?"

He looked down at me with narrowed eyes. "Hands over your head, little girl."

Feeling my juices sliding between my cunt lips, I did as he commanded, then watched him strip off his belt. Adrenaline surged as he reached up and bound my wrists to the post.

"Becoming clearer?"


The corner of his mouth curving upward, he slowly unbuttoned my shirt. My heart hammered with excitement as he flicked open my bra and freed my heavy tits. He teased one hard nipple, squeezing it between his fingers, while he bent down and tormented the other lightly with his teeth. Uncontrollable moans escaped me as pleasure tore through my body.

All too soon, he pulled up my skirt, exposing my naked dripping sex. "Naughty wet slut."

"Your naughty wet slut."

Groaning, he yanked open his jeans, releasing his cock. "Beg me."

Panting, I writhed against the post. "Please fuck your filthy come whore."

Satisfied and just as impatient, he shoved his cock deep inside me, claiming me once again. The ecstasy built fast as he fucked me hard. My cries echoing throughout the room, we came together, his thick seed filling me.

Finally recovered, his come trailing down my thigh, I asked, "Will you change the name?"

"No, Lucky's is perfect—on so many levels."

I smiled. He was right of course.

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

If You Dare (Wicked Wednesday & Friday Flash)

I actually started this last week as a combined post for Wicked Wednesday and Friday Flash, but the best-laid plans of mice and men and all that. The Before/After theme should be obvious, I think, but you might be wondering what this has to do with a man lightly holding a full wine glass.

Well, apart from a few wine coolers in my twenties, I've never been a drinker. I know, a writer who doesn't imbibe—shocking! There's no sad, dark story there, I just never liked it and all it did was make me sleepy, which isn't really conducive to writing. I'd much rather be alert, for a lot of things, hence my love of coffee and this story being set in a coffeeshop. But the enticing male hands do come into play.

Please click on the badges below to read all the other wonderful posts.

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

If You Dare
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.

Before I saw him, I was struggling. Not blocked exactly, but stuck. I had plenty of ideas, but forming sentences was like pulling teeth. I'd type something, hate it, then delete it. This went on until I was disgusted with myself.

Hoping a change of scenery would help, I packed up my laptop and went to the local coffeeshop. Ensconced in a quiet corner with a mocha latte, I wasn't getting much done, my gaze often drifting from the blinking cursor on the blank screen to people-watch.

Then he walked in and I couldn't look away. In worn jeans and T-shirt, he carried himself casually, golden-brown hair long enough to carelessly fall into his eyes. He was attractive to be sure, but the battered leather journal he held was even more intriguing.

As he placed his order, his warm voice washed over me, creating delightful shivers down my spine. I watched surreptitiously, not wanting to seem like some deranged stalker chick. He found a seat across the café near a window. After staring outside for a moment, he opened his journal and began scrawling on a page.

My curiosity went into overdrive. What was he writing? Stories about his wayward youth? Poems about a long-lost love? Songs about his nomadic travels? Or maybe he was detailing his erotic exploits with the woman he fucked the night before. The last thought made me smile.

Like magic, the words started flowing. I got so lost in the decadent tale I wove the time flew. When I finally looked up, he'd disappeared. For a moment, I panicked, but then felt sure I'd see him again.

The next day, I returned and he was there, bent over his journal, busily scribbling away, his other hand lightly wrapped around his coffee cup. I imagined those long fingers on me and in me, making me moan sweet sounds just for him. I could almost feel them gripping my neck, not squeezing, just holding me there, letting me know he was in control. Pressing my thighs together, I felt the juices flooding my cunt.

And so it continued, day after day, for months. I didn't think he noticed me, but my mysterious stranger aroused more than my writing. It amused me wondering what he'd think about all the dirty stories he inspired. He was my lascivious boss, my forbidden crush, my voyeuristic neighbor—all variations on a theme, but always him.

One day, a ripping sound made me look up from my computer. We made eye contact for the first time and his lips spread into a wicked smile. As he walked towards me, my heart pounded in my chest. He placed a torn page from his journal on my table, then turned and left.

When I could finally tear my gaze away from his retreating figure, I read his note. Below a nearby address, he'd written:

Because I need to know the secrets behind that Mona Lisa smile. Meet me there…if you dare.

Dare, I did.