Strange Ties

She bent over the ledge in front of the window.  When she heard the door, she leaned over even farther.  This had to work.  It was the last night of their vacation and he hadn't touched her; not once.   A hand slid over her hip and she smiled.  His other hand fisted her hair, bracing her for his cock.  He slid inside her, deep and hard.  She cried out over his silence.  He'd never fucked her like this... just FUCKED her.  It's what she wanted.  Needed.  Wild.  Unrestrained.  Until she heard the door again.  Until his voice whispered "honey" from the doorway.  A backward glance showed the tan legs and sandals of the boy she'd flirted with by the pool.  They froze.

A moment of panic took her before she heard her husband cross the floor.  She began to stammer the words, "I thought he was you," but he silenced her with a fingertip.  Then he saw her.  He truly saw her, the woman he married, wanted, and desired.  His hand slid through her hair as the other man's hand fell away, yet the two men looked at each other and the husband nodded.  She braced herself and moaned as he plunged back inside her.  Her husband pressed his lips to her, murmuring "beautiful" as a tear slid down her cheek.  His mouth molded to hers with fresh heat.  His tongue slipped between her lips and danced in a way it hadn't in what felt like forever.  Strange hands found her shoulders and pulled her deep as she came, but it was her husband's kiss.  His kiss was her satisfaction.

Quiet Now

One graceful finger perched on his nose, the other on her own lips.  She'd thought it was such an odd gift.  But when she'd told her husband, he'd said It only made sense. She'd be staying in her old room while she visited her folks.  It was only appropriate. But her thoughts weren't appropriate.  She hated being away from him, away from his touch.  His kiss.  Her fingertips traced the edge of her black bra and brushed over her stomach.  The moment they brushed the smooth flesh between her thighs, she moaned.

"Shhh."

She nearly threw the bear across the room.

"You have to be quiet, baby."

Her voice came out in a shaky whisper as she recognized the bear's voice.

"Mike?"

She heard her husband laugh.  Leave it to him to put his sneaky spy shit in a stuffed toy.

"Sound activated.  It let's me know when there's a peep to be heard.  I liked that peep."  His voice got that husky edge that turned her all molten inside.  "I want to hear more.  Tell me what you were doing."

"I was thinking of you."

She sat up just enough to take off her bra.  The soft fur brushed against the taut peaks of her nipples and she moaned again.  It all seemed so deliciously naughty.  She reached back between her legs and slid her fingers across slick flesh.  Her breath caught in her throat.

"More,"  he said.  His own breath grew deeper, ragged, and she pictured him palming his hard cock.  "You know I want more."

So did she.  She closed her eyes and listened to his disembodied breath.  Pictured his mouth tasting her, his tongue teasing her.  She pictured him entering her as her own fingers explored her depths.  He heard every whimper.  Every moan.  Every gasp.  In her childhood bedroom she told him all the dirty things she wanted him to do to her.

And then they came.

"I miss you," she said.

"I miss you, too," he said.  "Until tomorrow."

She heard the mic click and rolled contentedly to her side, clutching tight to the memory of his voice.

The Stairwell

This is the way he said he wanted her: natural, raw, and wild.  Wild bush.  Natural pits. The tattoo that snaked across her ribcage and writhed beneath his tongue.  This is the last place he fucked her while his wife slept upstairs.  He didn't care then.  Why should she now?  She wouldn't put her wild away.

She ground her palms into her swollen eyes while the stone steps dug into her ass and her back.  He would see her and stop.  He would see the words "fuck me" on the wall and he would obey.  It was his turn to obey.

The door opened.  She knew his gait as well as his schedule; knew it was him that climbed the stairs.  She said nothing as he approached.  Nothing when she knew he saw her.  Nothing when the heel of his shoe scuffed her hard nipple as he stepped up over her body.

She knew his gait.  It didn't slow until he unlocked his apartment, opened the door, stepped through it to his his safe world and locked it behind him.

She said nothing today.

There is always tomorrow.

FFF - 3/5 - Episode Quickie

I truly hope this isn't the last we see of FFF.  It's too much fun!   OK,  this week's kinky prompt:

This week's Flash Fiction Challenge is a little bit different.

Your goal - Describe what happens in the next 5 minutes.

Star Wars references optional

Word Limit: 200

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His cock twitched as the girls took their final bow.  The one on the right, sweet Jedi, she was hot.  A touch of the dark side. That had always been his thing. And that ass! The perfect canvas for his handprint. He watched her turn and scan the audience; passing him over alwaysas always. The other girls left their Storm Trooper helmets on the stage.  He grinned as she grabbed hers and hit the hallway. He chugged his drink and followed. 

She bent over the back of the couch; heels, garters, stockings and crotchless panties still in place.  She heard the door. His belt. His zipper. Heard his breathing change within the confines of the mask.She smiled.

His hand fell hard across her ass. As soon as she gasped, he was balls deep inside her.  She felt the clunky helmet over her shoulder.. His perfect hands. His cock hard and deep. Divine.

She moaned on the first stroke and came on the second, milking him dry with her tight box. One more thrust and he got off, pulled out, and hit the door. Her mystery man. Her nerdy wet dream.

He always came on Star Wars night.


So did she.

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(200 on the nose! Fun challenge.)

FFF 2/27 - I did?

Key Words - Relief
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?

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Sorry so late, and such on odd story! I hope it was at least a little entertaining.


In a stall? I've done worse.

FFF - Sorry, Wrong Number

Thank you,  Advizor.  I do love this picture.   Though,  I'm surprised at the direction I took.   I hope it works for someone out there.

The details...

FFF Prompt - Devastated
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.

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She could still hear his voice.  

"Bella. Answer me, Bella."

She dropped the receiver after he came; after he said a name that wasn't hers.  Yet, it was a name she knew...

She lay on the floor, devastated, listening to him buzzing away like an anxious mosquito. She wanted to swat away his feeble excuses and end this horrid call.  He was her fucking fiancé.

"Stop," she whispered. "Please stop..."

She clutched at her dress, covering herself as she rose to a seated position..  In seconds, she'd gone from hovering on the edge of orgasm to total humiliation.  Sure, he'd been different tonight.   It wasn't the way he normally talked to her.  It was... dirtier.  And, yes, she was surprised that he'd called her here, but it was a pleasant surprise.   One that made her feel wanted and a little naughty.  But then he came and called her Anna. The only Anna she knew was...

"Bella, darling.  Who was it that called?"

She grasped the receiver and stretched out her trembling hand.

"Sorry, Mother," she whispered.  "It was for you."

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Extra credit, though I didn't take the words.

My worst phone call is yet to come.  I dread it.   However,  I did have one a year or so ago that was awful for me.   Many years ago,  I spent a year in an affair with my best friend.   She had a girlfriend.   I wasn't proud,  but it's where I was.  I adored her.   The year was torture,  but I loved her so I endured.  I was 1000 percent sure that she knew that.   I'd believed she felt the same way.   About a year or so ago we are on the phone and she tells me she never loved anyone before her current girl.   Gut punch. Yet, somehow,  I ended up telling her I'd been in love with her back then.   She said she'd never known.   Shed though it was just for fun.   Even now,  happily married,  it broke my heart.   It made me feel like she'd never known me;  that the entire year had been a figment of my imagination.

Satisfaction

He wants
the broken girl
from beneath the rubble;
the one that cries each time she begs
for more.

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My favorite poetic form, cinquain.  I haven't written one in ages.  This one seems to have written itself.