Yes,
I know this week's Friday Flash "Amour" prompt is French. I'm not
sure why that made me think dance, or tango, or developed into this. But it
did, so I'm going with it. It's a small miracle I even managed to post twice in
one week. "Te amo" is "I
love you" in Spanish, by the way.
As always,
please click on the badge below to read the other Friday Flash offerings!
We'd
been doing the dance all night, a weird sort of tango with a room full of
people separating us. His fiery gaze devoured my every movement as he barely
spoke to this person or that person. They didn't seem to mind his lack of interest;
they were just happy he paid them any attention at all.
Such
was the effect of his devastating charisma. I was a victim of it too, of course.
At least I tried to appear engaged with my conversation partner—smiling,
nodding, ah-huh-ing when appropriate.
Every
time I made eye contact with my temporary companion, I'd lose track of him. But
I still felt the heat of him watching me, like fire licking my skin. When I
looked up, he'd be closer. That was my cue to move on. I'd politely excuse
myself and mingle in the opposite direction.
His
eyes narrowed each time I put distance between us. He knew my game. Hunt and
evade. Stalk and elude. There was a subtle rhythm to it—two steps closer, one step
apart. He gradually got nearer, the predator tracking his prey.
The chase
always thrilled me, made my heart beat faster, my sex slick and needy. He'd
catch me eventually—because I'd let him. We both knew I'd willingly surrender;
I craved his possession too much.
I'd
intended to prolong it, even though my lacy panties were so saturated my wetness
oozed down my thighs. However, a nice but chatty old lady was determined to
bend my ear. I was stuck.
The back
of my neck tingled right before his arm wrapped around my waist and I heard his
deep voice for the first time since we arrived. "Would you excuse us?"
She
blushed scarlet. "Certainly!"
He swiftly
guided me out onto the terrace and into a dark, secluded corner. I welcomed the
forceful way he shoved my back to the wall, his body dominating me, his blatant
erection trapped between us.
"You
were very naughty," he rasped in my ear. "Taunting me. Making me
watch all those men drool over your tits."
"You
picked the dress." A low-cut slinky black thing that clung to all my curves.
He
growled before claiming my mouth in a fierce kiss. Desperate for him, I hitched
my leg up around his hip, grinding my greedy cunt against his hardness. Just as
eager, he ripped my panties away, freed his cock, then he was inside me, taking
me hard and fast. Our passion was so impetuous and all-consuming we both came
quickly.
Locked
together, we held each other as our breathing calmed.
"Te amo."
It
was the first time he'd said he loved me in any language.
My
response was effortless and unwavering. "Te amo, también."
I
felt his lips curve into a smile against my neck.
"When
we get home, I'm tying you to the bed so you're at my mercy for the rest of the
night."
I moaned. "Just
one of the many reasons I love you."
Sometimes
music and my writing go hand in hand. In fact, my story for Chemical [se]X Volume 2 was inspired by an Aerosmith song. While I was mulling over this week's
Wicked Wednesday "Playful" prompt and the Masturbation Monday prompt,
I came up with this idea. Very quickly, I knew the perfect song for it, the
Divinyls "I Touch Myself," which is also the title. You can see the
video for the song here:
Please
click on the badges below to read the other Masturbation Monday and Wicked
Wednesday offerings!
Normally,
I'm pretty even-tempered with occasional bouts of playfulness that are
downright mischievous. What inspired my wickedness that day I can't really say.
I should have been editing my most recent story, but it's often tedious work.
My mind wandered off to where it usually goes if given half a chance—dirty daydreams
of him.
I
was reliving our latest filthy adventure, getting more turned on my the second.
Of course, he was at work and unavailable to satisfy my lustful urges. Being
horny without the object of my desires around was usually a recipe for trouble.
When left to my own devices, I can express my creativity in devious ways.
It occurred
to me that I shouldn't be the only one aroused and a very naughty plan formed
in my hormone fueled brain. I knew there'd be retribution later, but that only encouraged
me.
Grinning
like a fiend, I skipped off to our bedroom and stripped out of my clothes. In
the closet, I found his discarded work shirt from the day before. His intoxicating
scent still clung to it and I took a moment to breathe him in. Then I put it
on, only buttoning it enough to cover the essentials.
Looking
at myself in the mirror, I decided I needed something else. I immediately knew
the perfect thing. I grabbed a pair of blue thigh-high stockings that matched
his shirt and leisurely slid them on.
Wardrobe
change complete, I went to the stereo, selected the perfect song, and grabbed
the remote. I could feel my juices already flooding my cunt as I set up my laptop
on the nearby kitchen table. Finally, I pulled one of the kitchen chairs a few
feet away from the table and turned it around so the low-profile ladder back faced
the computer.
Standing
out of the laptop camera's line of sight, I started it recording, then hit play on the remote. My heart pounded
with excitement as the music started. I tossed the remote aside and sashayed into
the frame, mouthing the lyrics to the song.
I love myself, I want you to love me…
Hips
swaying, I danced around the chair until I was standing in front of it. I
pulled the clip from my hair, freeing it, so brown waves cascaded down around
my shoulders. Then I slowly unbuttoned the shirt, but only let it fall open
enough to display a narrow strip of pale skin between my tits all the way to my
shaved pussy.
Holding
the shirt over my breasts, I spun around the chair and sat down facing away
from the laptop. Over my shoulder, I looked back at the camera just in time for
the next line, trailing my hand down my neck.
When I think about you, I touch myself…
I
twirled around to face the camera, straddling the chair. His shirt was completely
open now, revealing my tits and my very slick sex. The back of the chair was
low enough that I could lean forward so my breasts hung over the edge. I took
both of them in my hands and fondled my ample flesh. Letting my head fall back,
I moaned in pleasure.
Looking at the camera, I took my nipples between my fingers and squeezed them hard,
gasping as jolts of sensation ripped through me. My aching clit demanded attention
and I couldn't resist any longer. While one hand continued tormenting my
nipple, I slid the other hand down my body to my drenched slit.
I close my eyes and see you before me…
My
eyes were open, but I did imagine him sitting where the computer was, his eyes incandescent.
I only rubbed my clit briefly, then went lower, coating my fingers in cunt
cream. Ever so slowly, I brought them up to my mouth and licked them,
savoring my tangy flavor.
When
they were clean, I got them messy again so I could paint my slickness all over
my impossibly hard nipple. I knew how much he loved that. I could easily
picture his nostrils flaring with lust as I repeated the enticing show on the
other nipple.
A fool could see just how much I adore you…
That
was so fucking true. Only for him would I make such a display—push aside all my
inhibitions and dare to be bold. I trusted him more than I had anyone else.
I'd
had enough teasing and delved my fingers between my wet cunt lips. Circling my
clit again and again, I panted, my breathing getting heavier as my pleasure built.
In my head, I saw him stroking his cock as he watched me. I loved watching him
pleasure himself, seeing his hard shaft in his firm grip as he worked it from
base to tip.
I don't want anybody else…
Crying
out, I came so fucking hard, my orgasm tearing through me so violently I barely
remained in the chair.
When
I came back to earth, I got up, sauntered over to the laptop, and stopped the
recording.
Before
I could reconsider, I sent him the video with the heading, "Watch
me."
For
five long minutes, I worried my lower lip as I waited for his response. Finally,
it came:
You made me fucking hard.
I
couldn't stop the wide grin from spreading across my face.
Right before a meeting!
Uh-oh!
Later I'll show you what happens to
naughty girls that tease Daddy at work.
I was useless for the
rest of the day, imagining how he'd make good on his delicious threat. With him,
the possibilities were endless. I knew I'd be begging before the night was over
and I couldn't wait.
I'm thrilled to finally announce that my story "Eminent Domain" will be
included in The Sexy Librarian's Dirty 30 Volume 3 edited by Rose Caraway. What
makes it even sweeter is that I'll be burning up the pages with my Chemical
[se]X Volume 2 sisters, Rachel Woe and Doctor J. It's coming out Spring 2019,
so it's going to be a very busy and sexy 2019! You'll be reading more about it
in the coming months, but until then I have another wicked morsel for you.
This
was mainly inspired by this week's Friday Flash prompt, "Listen,"
along with some Masturbation Monday. Although the picture F. Leonora Solomon provided is lovely, it was the word that got my juices flowing. So much so I stayed up
way too late last night writing this.
Please
click on the badges below to read the other Masturbation Monday and Friday
Flash offerings.
Fleeing
my family's incessant questions about college and my recent breakup, I sought sanctuary
in my untouched teenage bedroom.
Sighing,
I collapsed onto my bed and stared at the ceiling plastered with rock band
posters. I needed music.
I
fished my phone from my jeans pocket, plugged in my headphones, and hit play.
The warm, rich voice of my singer-songwriter neighbor filled my ears. Turning
my head, I looked out the window facing his house.
Unable
to resist, I got up and walked over, easily seeing into his home office/studio.
Before I could wonder if he was out on tour, he was there, as hot as ever in
torn jeans and a faded T-shirt. His brown hair was longer than the last time I'd
seen him and unreasonably sexy.
Smiling,
he waved at me.
I
waved back and sent a text:
Love the new album. Listening to it now.
He
reached for his phone, typed something, then put it to his ear.
My
cell rang, interrupting his music. I knew who it was before I answered.
"Home
for the holidays?"
"Yes.
And finding solace in your music."
"What
do you like most about it?"
"Your
voice. Always, your voice."
"Is
that so?"
"Mmm-hmm."
I only paused a second. "Can I make a confession?"
"Of
course."
"Sometimes,
late at night, when I'm in bed…I listen to you."
He
sucked in a breath. "Just listen?"
"No,
I get so lost in your voice, your music, I just have to…"
"Yes?"
"Touch
myself."
Even
from a distance, his gaze was scorching. "How?"
"I
start with my breasts—"
"Tits.
Always use dirty words."
My
heartbeat quickened, raw heat unfurling low in my belly. "I fondle my tits."
"Show
me."
Not thinking
twice, I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and spread it open, revealing my white
lacy bra. I opened the front clasp, freeing my tits, then cupped one in my hand.
He
groaned. "So fucking perfect."
I
captured a nipple between my fingers. "I love squeezing them hard. Makes
me so fucking wet."
"Are
you wet now?"
"Fuck
yeah."
"Get
your fingers slick with cunt cream."
Everything
about this set my blood on fire—finally enacting my wildest fantasy, the filthy
words, his wicked commands—so I didn't hesitate.
As I
yanked open my jeans, he did the same, unleashing his hard cock. As my hand
slid down inside my panties, briefly teasing my aching clit before delving into
my sopping slit, he fisted his shaft. As I displayed my messy fingers, he worked
his cock in long strokes.
"Taste
yourself."
I
hummed with pleasure, savoring my tangy fingers.
"Get
your horny cunt off."
My
hand was quickly back inside my panties, furiously fingering my clit.
"Come
for me. Now."
And
I did, so hard I collapsed against the window, panting. His grunts filled my ears
as he splattered the window with his come.
"Hearing
you come was the best music ever."
"You'll
get an up-close-and-personal performance soon."
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.
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!
"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."
Erotic horror really isn't my thing, but in
honor of the spooky-themed Masturbation Mondays for October, I thought I'd try
something a little different. It's more haunting than scary, but hopefully hot.
I managed to incorporate this week's "spiderweb" prompt as well as
Wicked Wednesday's "purple" prompt. There's also a little musical inspiration
below courtesy of Adele that I thought captured the mood of the piece.
Please click on the badges below to read all
the other amazing blog posts.
Their bed had always been a place of solace,
tenderness, and passion. Now, it was this cold empty thing she dreaded every
night. Because he was no longer there.
Like so many nights lately, she finally fell
into a fitful sleep, clutching his pillow. The barest trace of his scent still
clung to it. She could almost imagine she was wrapped around him, nuzzling his
neck like she often had. It wasn't even close to the real thing, but the
illusion was enough that she eventually slipped into semi-consciousness.
She drifted there, somewhere between wakefulness
and sleep, in a vast dark nothingness. It was the same thing every night in his
absence—unending hopelessness. Not even a dream of him and the way they were.
Then something changed.
Warmth slowly enveloped her, so subtly she
thought it was wishful thinking. But it grew more and more intense, along with
his unforgettable scent, until the heat of his presence suffused every cell in
her body. Gripping the pillow tighter, she almost wept with relief.
I've missed
you.
Hearing his honeyed voice wrenched a sob from
deep in her chest. "I've missed you, too. So much."
She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, not
daring to open them. Because then she'd have to face the brutal truth. That
this was just some grief-induced delusion. That he was gone for good, never to
return. That she'd never see his handsome face again, never really hear his
voice, or feel his touch.
The unmistakable feel of his calloused fingers
lightly caressing her cheek made her gasp.
Be a good
girl and let me see your pretty eyes.
She'd disobeyed him before, but usually
playfully, to provoke a punishment. This time, she was afraid to obey. She
didn't want to risk losing him again.
Do you
trust me?
"Always."
Her response was immediate and unwavering. It
was herself she didn't trust—and her sanity. But she'd rather wallow in her delusions
if she got to be with him, even in this ephemeral way.
Then trust
me now. Open your eyes.
She'd always trusted him with her body and soul,
so she did as she was told, having faith that he wouldn't be cruelly snatched
away from her.
Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes to see his
apparition shimmering in the moonlight. Scrambling to sit up, she gaped at him
reclining on his side of the bed.
See, I'm
really here.
He was the strangest, most wonderful thing
she'd ever seen. His mouth didn't move, but she could hear him in her head. His
translucent presence looked just as he did in life. He only wore the ghostly
embodiment of his favorite threadbare jeans and his trademark lopsided smile.
Unable to resist, she reached out and touched
his bare chest. Her hand didn't pass through him like she'd imagined, but it wasn't
like touching flesh and bone either. There was definitely something there,
though—an energy that created a tingling sensation on her skin.
He took her hand in both of his, brought it up
to his mouth, and placed a tender kiss on her palm. To her amazement, it felt the
same as it always did—his large, warm hands surrounding hers, his soft lips,
even his breath teasing her hand.
"How?" It was all she could get out
as overwhelming emotion clogged her throat.
His smile turned wry. I never could stay away from you.
And she could never stay away from him. Gratitude
and elation flooded her that even death couldn't keep them apart.
Are you
still mine?
"Always."
Come, I
know what you need.
He led her out of their bedroom down the hall
to the door leading up to the attic they'd converted into a playroom. She
hadn't been up there in a while, because it hurt too much. But now, she eagerly
followed him, curious and excited to see what his dirty mind had in store for
her.
The full moon flooding through the custom
stained-glass windows illuminated the space in a rich purple hue. Purple
because she'd always found the color comforting. The abstract cobweb design was
a private joke about her being caught in his web.
They easily made their way between the various
cloth-covered apparatus, only leaving one set of footprints in the light dust
coating the floor. He stopped beside an object she knew all too well and her
heartbeat speed up in anticipation.
He whipped off the dust cloth, tossing it aside
to reveal a spanking bench that resembled a kinky church pew. It was wholly appropriate
in this place where they worshiped each other, where she often knelt in
supplication, and where he provided guidance and enlightenment to the many
wonders her body could experience.
Arousal wasn't something she'd experienced in a
while—not since he left her—so it was a joy to feel it unfurling within her,
hardening her nipples, flooding her cunt with liquid desire.
Want to be
my naughty girl?
"Always."
He didn't need to tell her what to do. She
quickly stripped off her night clothes and got down onto the padded bench.
Bending over, she relished the feel of the supple leather against her breasts.
It was always thrilling having her ass up in the air, completely exposed and vulnerable
to him—her lover, her Master.
So beautiful.
So perfect.
His fingers lightly trailed down her spine to
her ass. He cupped one cheek, kneading it with his strong hand, then move on to
the other. Craving more, she arched her back, lifting her backside higher,
pressing herself more firmly into his hand, silently begging for one of the many
things she'd been missing.
Are you
mine to do with as I please?
"Always."
The first smack made her gasp, but not really
in pain. It was just a warm-up. No, it was the almost forgotten pleasure wracking
her body that shocked her. He slapped the other cheek, making her sigh, her muscles
relaxing, her entire being practically melting into the bench.
He continued spanking her, alternating sides,
getting progressively harder—from a slight sting, to a deep burning ache, to a
sharp knifing pain that chipped away everything she'd been bottling up. All the
tension, all the agony, all the longing, all the grief. It all came rushing out.
Tears streaming down her face soon turned into wrenching sobs until there was
nothing left but the physical pain that was a welcome relief.
That's it.
Let it all out. I’m here.
When she finally quieted, lost in that blissful
place only he could create, he stopped and gently stroked down her back, murmuring
soothing words of appreciation. She flinched slightly when he carefully massaged
her sore backside, but then moaned when he dipped lower, exploring her slick
folds.
Mmmm,
always so ready.
She pressed back against his questing fingers. "Please."
Please, what,
babygirl?
"Please, fuck me. Hard."
And he did, ramming himself deep inside her. As
always, he knew exactly what she needed. Right then, more than anything, she
wanted him to reclaim her, to possess her body as thoroughly as he possessed
her soul. She didn't need sweet words professing his undying love. She wanted
him to use her, to make her his once again and forever.
He gave her all that and more. She felt his warm
body curve over hers as he pounded her needy cunt. One hand gripped a handful of
her hair and pulled her head back. His familiar growl teased her ear.
Mine!
"Always!"
Come for
me!
This time she obeyed him immediately, the pleasure
rocking her body so intensely she passed out. When she came back to earth, she
was in their bed, lying on her side. She was relieved to see his radiant presence
lying beside her, smiling down at her.
