FFF - Fifty Shades of Crazy

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

Part I

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.

Part II

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.

FFF - How long?

I'm late to the party, but I'd still like to join.  Very nice pic, Advizor.  Here goes...

Key Word - Waiting
Word Limit -250 exactly

No extra words

Forbidden Words - boredom, enui

Ridiculous,.  She'd been waiting for hours.  It was meant to be a joke.  He always made cracks about those stupid "no shirt, no shoes, no service" signs, so here she sat... shirt, shoes, and waiting to be serviced.  He never showed, not that it was a shock.  Maybe he was doing some servicing on the side now.  Fuck, he didn't even get her off last time they were together.  

She reached over and grabbed her phone.  No texts, no missed calls.  This was the last time.  A bright, devious glimmer shot through her grey.  She lay the phone down beside her and spread her legs wide, letting her fingers trail through that thick bush he loved so much.  She turned, positioning her legs so that she could prop up her phone for the perfect shot.  After getting nice and worked up, she hit record... watching herself.  Watching her fingers work her slick, hard clit.  Watching what he didn't want anymore.  Watching what he'd never get again.

She came hard, her juices splashing the screen of her smartphone, the sound from her throat a broken cross between a moan, a laugh, and sob.  After a ragged breath, she wiped the screen off on his sofa.  Quickly, she attached the file to a text with the message, "Fuck you, asshole.  We're done." Message sent.

She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks before she felt his hand grip her neck from behind, his warm breath caressing her cheek.

"Not even close."

(250)

Pity Party for One

I wonder what would happen if anyone actually knew me.  If they could split me open like some piece of rotted fruit and see everything.  This person... the one that dresses like her mother, hides behind her weight, and smiles at the entire fucking world is a piece of of shit fraud.  I don't write for a reason.  When I write, I speak truth.  I talk about the things I want, but can't have.  The pain I miss every fucking day.  The stranger seared into my brain.  I drown myself every fucking day in the fantasies of others so I can deny my own.  I want.  I want so much.  I complacently settle for the life of a middle class office bitch when I crave so much more.  And then?  Then I deny my past and cope with the anxiety and depression in a Mary Jane haze. Then I write dirty stories with my friends because it's the one thing that triggers my pulse.  And when my friends are gone, I go scary places inside.   Honestly.  I really am a piece of shit. I believe if anyone really knew me, they'd just walk away.  Plenty have.   Fuck, I would.

FFF - In the Pink

She was humiliated, but there was no stopping now.

"What was it," Tom asked.  "What dirty little thought made it impossible for you to keep your fingers out of your sweet, pink pussy?"

He watched from the foot of the guest bed.  She kept her arm across her face, unable to look at her best friend.

"You."  Her words hung between a moan and a gasp.  "Both of you."

A wicked grin flashed across his face.  "You heard us, didn't you?  You heard him fucking me."

She swallowed hard, nodding.  Her fingers worked faster, sliding over her swollen clit.  She flinched as she felt his fingers beneath the waistband of her pink flannel pajamas.  With a quick tug they slid down her thighs.  She hadn't even heard him move.

"I'm watching," he said, his voice deep and strained.  "Don't stop."

She closed her eyes tighter, her cheeks flushing to a bright pink.

"Tell me what you heard.  How much you liked it."  He slowly stroked his hardening cock through his thin cotton shorts.

She shook her head emphatically, too focussed on her own pleasure to respond.  Too ashamed to tell him how wet she got listening to him.  She barely registered the opening door.  Barely heard the footsteps.  The whispered, "Oh my."

Guilt flashed across Tom's face.  It was quickly dismissed as his lover smiled, slowly shaking his head.  He knew Tom had always wondered, that a part of him had always wanted her.  He sank to his knees after gently turning Tom's face back towards his childhood friend.

Tom watched.  Tom watched her perfect fingers stroke her perfect pussy as his cock disappeared between his husband's lips.  He moaned.  She dropped her hand from her face, spreading herself open to his gaze.  He moaned louder.


She looked up, pushed to the brink by the sight of Tom balls deep in his lover's mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered.  "Cum.  Cum watching us.  Cum watching him get me off."

She did.  Back arching.  Legs trembling.  Fire in her veins.  But she pictured herself on her knees in front of him.  She pictured his hands tangled in her hair.  His cock sliding over her tongue.  And picturing this she came harder than she had in ages.

So did he -- closing his eyes and imagining the same damn thing.

The Other Way

Please bear with me.  I was inspired to write today.  It's been a while.

---

It was the "please don't go" that killed her.  She couldn't make him understand.  She didn't want to go; she had to go.  It was her wife.  Her wife was so giving.  So understanding.  So full of grace.  She was her whole world.  She couldn't betray her; not even for him.

But he didn't get it.  He was hurt.  Angry.  Rejected.  And he didn't know that when he said those words she'd cried for hours.

They'd never met.  Still, she longed to be laid out over his lap, his strong hands caressing her bare ass.  She ached for the sting of his slap, the deep throb between her thighs, and his stern voice cutting through her chatter.  She wanted to watch him stroke himself to completion, pearls of white cum dripping over his dark fingers.  She wanted to lick them clean.

"Please don't go."

The words were tattooed on the backs of her eyelids.  She saw them each time she blinked.

He said it was one sided.  She wasn't giving like he was.  It hurt him.

He didn't understand that the only one she'd give more to was her wife.  She'd already broken so many rules for him.  It was all for him. But she knew it would never be enough.  He said he'd take whatever she could give him.

He clearly lied.

Now every time it rained she'd think of they day they didn't spend fucking.  Her empty inbox was a dream that she'd never hurt him.  That he didn't hate her.  That he'd know what it was she wanted.

Him.  She wanted him.  Bending her over the side of the bed.  Tying her to the headboard.  Forcing her to her knees.  She wanted to taste his lips, his breath, his cock.  She ached for him.  Needed him.  Longed to explore this... thing.

"Please don't go," he said.

Yet, she did.  She went home.  She laid beside her beautiful wife and cried.  She cried all night long.

He'd never understand

FFF - 8/15 - Surrender

Key Phrase: Training

Word Limit: 200

Forbidden Words: Dom, Sub, D/s, pain

Bonus Words:  Who’s your daddy?

Extra Credit:  What have you been trained to do?

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I'm waiting.

I'm on my knees in the dark, as you requested.  You said this was your fantasy.  This is how it had to be.  I would never question you.  Not now.

My back is straight, my hands resting on my thighs.  My ass is balanced on my heels.  I can't hear you, but I can feel you.  Your energy is palpable.  My eyes strain, but find nothing.

It's suiting.  I once called you my darkness.  

I want to speak, to reach out, to find you.  I will not.  This is what you asked of me.  What you've been training me for.

Finally, a fingertip grazes my cheek.  Across my lips.  I hear a low sound, between a breath and a moan.  It undoes something deep inside me.  Need rages, hungry and cruel.  It will tear me apart.

I'm still waiting.

I hear something.  A rustle of fabric.  The scrape of your leather belt through your belt loops.  I cannot breathe.  Again, your fingertips brush my cheek.  Across my collarbone.  Against my breasts.  I bite my lip, fighting to stay silent.  

From above come the words I've only read on my screen, the ones that lay me bare.

"You're mine."

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An odd direction, but it's the first place I went.  Exactly 200 words today, no bonus words necessary.

As for what I've been trained to do, at home I've been trained to embrace who I am, to ask for what I need, and to relinquish shame.  

By another, I've been trained to surrender, but not to take everything so damn seriously.

FFF - 8/8 - Happy Hour

She held her breath when he walked through the door, just as she always did.  He usually carried himself with such poise.  Such self control.  Not today.  The moment he looked at her she saw a weariness that she wasn't accustomed to in his dark eyes.  He was still stunning, still so damn hot, but off somehow.  She didn't think it was anything anyone else would notice.  It had become her obsession to study him whenever he came into the bar.

He walked up and ordered his lunchtime whiskey sour.  She got him his drink, and laced her usually bright smile with compassion.  She wanted him to know she knew he was having a bad day.  His usual one drink became two, and then three.  Weary became haggard, desolate.  She wanted desperately to make it better.

The other patrons filtered out of the bar.  They'd be a ghost town until happy hour.  This was when she'd usually take her lunch, but she couldn't leave him like that.  He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt, rumpling his usually immaculate appearance.  She found his sudden humanity even more attractive.  She brought him another drink, and he finally looked at her.  Her breath caught in her throat.  A year and this was the first time he'd really looked at her.

He laid his arms on the bar and narrowed his eyes.

"I just want someone to make me feel," he said.  "I don't care what.  I just want to feel."

He closed his eyes on a sudden flash of pain.  She caught her boss's eye to signal her break, walked around the bar, and grabbed his hand.  He half-stumbled after her, confused and hazy as she guided him by the hand down the hall, and out the back door.  Within moments, he was pressed to the wall and his slacks were undone and sliding down his thighs.  She flashed a wicked grin.

"I'll make you feel," she said, sliding down to take her place before him.

His eyes flared wide.

"But we just met," he said.

She smiled up at him, leaning in.

"Technically," she said, relishing the touch of his hand on her cheek, "we haven't even met yet."

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Our instructions this week:

Key Phrase: “But we just met”

Word Limit: 300

Forbidden Words: Alley, Knees, Whore

Bonus Words:  Make it in the daytime

Extra Credit:  Tell us the dirtiest place you’ve ever had sex

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So, I went over on the word count, but I'll claim bonus points for daytime.  And I didn't link, because I'm so late.  I still wanted to write, though, so here I am.

As for the dirtiest place I've had sex, um, it was both disgusting and embarrassing.  It was an outhouse.  Dirty as in naughty, perhaps the happiest place on Earth?