Friday, February 27, 2015
Word Limit - 239
Forbidden words - unbeknownst, twitterpated. scullery
Bonus words - 25 points if there is a crowd cheering outside the room
Extra Credit - have you, would could you, in a stall?
"You don't think I can."
She glanced back over her shoulder, irritated at his amusement.
"You could wait, you know..." His voice was overflowing with mirth at her expense.
She pushed her panties down to her thighs.
"Did you see the line for the ladies? Fuck that. I need relief. Now."
She leaned forward, freeing her stream into the urinal. She was shocked it worked, but she'd never let on. Outside the door she heard a rise of cat calls and applause. Someone else must have taken the stage. She smiled at their unconventional beginning.
She felt him behind her. He leaned in, his large hands wrapping around her wrists.
"You know," he murmured against her ear. "That was pretty fucking hot. And I could use a little relief myself."
She heard the tick of a button; the promise of a zipper.
"Here," she asked.
He laughed against her neck, rubbing his cock against her ass.
"Ma'am, I just fucked you on stage in front of a hundred of our closest friends."
She felt him slide between her thighs just as the door flew open.
He stood abruptly, tucking himself back into his .jeans. He grinned at his best man. She laughed, her face flushing scarlet.
"We can't toast the newlyweds without the newlyweds."
He turned and left as her new husband wrapped around her, pulling her panties back over her hips.
"Shall we," he asked.
"We shall." She replied, shaking her head as they walked towards the bathroom door.
Really, she thought to herself. Who the fuck gets married at a sex club?
Sorry so late, and such on odd story! I hope it was at least a little entertaining.
In a stall? I've done worse.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Key Word: Devastated
Word Limit: Short week, low limit, 180 words
Forbidden Word: Phone, Carpet, Nipple
Extra Words: 20 Extra if her mom or dad finds her or is on the phone.
Extra Credit: Tell me a story about your worst phone call.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
the broken girl
from beneath the rubble;
the one that cries each time she begs
------------------- ------------------- ------------------- ------------------- -------------------
My favorite poetic form, cinquain. I haven't written one in ages. This one seems to have written itself.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Required Phrase - "And then my Crazy Ex......."
Word Limit - 2 short chapters of 230 each
Forbidden Phrase - Burned
Bonus Words if someone ends up dead.
Extra Credit if you fictionalize a real world story
This is the only way it could end. She was fucking crazy. That's what drew me to her in the first place. We had mind-blowing sex. Adrenaline junkie shit, you know? Fucking everywhere we could; daring ourselves to get caught. Fingering her while we drove 90 on the highway. If I wanted it, she was down. And Em got it at first. She knew I had my girl; this was just a fling. Then she caught feelings. They always do. The midnight hang ups, showing up at my job, at Starbucks, outside my girlfriend's house...but it was when she torched her tongue with a fucking lighter that she scared me shitless. What the fuck was she trying to prove?
We met at a Valentine's Charity auction. I was supposed to go with my regular girl. We were in search of a third. Just for fun, you know? Instead, we had a huge fight, she backed out, and I went stag. Em was on a pedestal in the middle of the room in nothing but 6-inch stilettos and a patent leather teddy, all curves and burgundy curls. Someone else won her, but I was the one fucking her at the end of the night. I know it was wrong, but I was hooked. Now? Yeah, this is the only way it could end. I just need to get away with it.
Flashing lights. No sirens. Incoherent babbling. A cop furiously scribbling on his note pad. "And then my crazy ex..." I have to admit it. She's selling this shit. I watch as they wheel out the gurney. I stay behind the caution tape remembering the rules she'd set in the beginning. Yeah, those rules went right out the window. I mean, shit. Love? She wanted to give me up for love? No, what she wants are my stiletto heels digging into her bare ass. She wants to bury her face in my juicy pussy. She wants to call me insane, fine. But she's the one that just offed her girlfriend. I fight to stifle my grin as the last cops pull away. The coroner is long gone. That bitch's body? Gone. I watch her face, seeing remorse flicker in her eyes. I toss my burgundy hair over my shoulder and walk to her. I won't comfort her. It's not in me. Instead, I lower my mouth to hers. I want to make sure she knows that I won. She thought she would kick me to the curb. She thought she was done with me. But what we have? No fucking way. I drag my tongue piercing across the swell of her bottom lip, swallowing her ragged sigh. Yeah, this is the only way it could end.
Crazy wins every fucking time.
230/230. Yep, one dead body. No true story. Definitely no hearts and flowers this Valentine's Day.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Word Limit -250 exactly