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Posts from the ‘Flash Fiction’ Category

S, T, U and V

Whoops. Behind again… But I’ve not missed 5 posts in a row yet.  Almost but not quite. And that means I’m still in it. Just!

That said, we’re looking at another composite posting today, covering letters S, T, U and V.

And out of some choices… I’ve gone with spoon, tease, unprotected and voluptuous for the word inspiration. As always, let me know what you think!

His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back to rest against him. My ass was cradled in just the right place so that, with a lift and a thrust he would be inside me.

And I could feel him, his cock hard and insistent against my lower back. Every so often it would twitch, reminding me it was there. Then he flicked my earlobe with his tongue, nibbling and sucking it into his mouth. He knew that made crazy.

I arched, my breasts pressing into his hand and my ass rubbing against his cock and thighs. I wanted him.


He pushed his cock against me. “You want this?”

I tilted my hips backwards, encouraging him to slip inside. “Yes. Please.”

“Hmmmm.” He cupped my heavy breast in his hand, idly testing it’s weight. “But I’m hungry. Maybe we should eat?”

“You want breakfast?” I wiggled my hips, trying to maneuver his cock into just the right position.

“Mmm, maybe bacon and eggs,” he said, pulling his hips back. “What do you think?”

“I think we can eat later. I think you should fuck me now.”

He laughed, and moved forward, pushing inside me. “Really, is that what you think?”

“Oh, yes.” My breath caught as he slid inside. “Really.”

See you back again tomorrow of the last four days of the A to Z Challenge.


It’s Q day… and that doesn’t make for a lot of word-based inspiration. Sex-Lexis had some really ugly ‘Q’ based words (check out quandong, queeb and quail for some particularly iffy ones).

Reading the list, and seeing quaaludes, I was thinking back to a book I read many years ago called Facades by Stanley Levine and Bud Knight (from recollection, it was a rollicking read!). It isn’t, unfortunately, in an e-book (I went hunting to download it and gather some inspiration…) so that idea went out the window. I could have gone with quiver or quickie… but I decided to go with quim (defined at

This is a piece I wrote a while back for the Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction contest at (who, in addition to being a pretty great competition master, writes some good stuff too!). As always, let me know what you think?

My professional name is Quim. I’m a working girl, servicing men in the upper echelon of society. Those men who value discretion and polish in their whore. It’s funny how even those supposedly knowledgeable men generally miss the irony of my name.

Right now, one of those men sits across from me, watching as I pose shamelessly against the wall for him, wearing only lingerie and stilettos.

Soon, I’ll move across the cavernous white room and he’ll guide me to my knees. He’ll push his cock between my lips and I’ll trace every ridge and vein with my tongue as he fucks my mouth, working himself down my throat. He’ll demand that I rub my clit as he takes me, that I spread my wetness around, readying myself for when he decides to fuck me.

When he’s ready, he’ll pull me to my feet and bend me over the back of the beautiful white leather lounge his wife bought, his hand flat between my shoulder blades. He’ll hold me down as he plunges deep inside, his mind focused solely on the place where his cock enters my cleft.

He’s nothing if not predictable. They’re all predictable.

I am just quim.

See you back here tomorrow for ‘R’ day.  Something a little different with some ‘romance’ inspiration!

M, N, O and P!

I’m starting this post with an apology… I may have over-extended myself this month! I’m not sure why I thought taking on the A to Z Challenge while working a full time job and trying to navigate caring for my mum was a good idea but here I am, late again. Whoops.
Maybe that is the point… I am still here. I’m still plugging along when I can and still trying to complete… even though today I might cheat a little by having a four letter day!

I had a whole lot of words in my notebook for inspiration on these days, including man, marriage and missionary; naughty, nerd and nursery; orgy, one night stand and oral; and promiscuous, pregnant and post-coital. I’ve picked one of each, and put together the little (longer than my normal…) snippet below. I’m not telling you which words I’ve picked… see if you figure them out!

And, before you start, a community service announcement. My characters here are naughty, and do not practice safe sex. They live in my fantasy world… where nasty consequences do not apply. Sadly, my fantasy world is not the real world. So cover up.

“Holy shit.” I was flat on my back, hand over my heart, chest heaving as I recovered my breath. “That was….”

“Amazing,” he said, grinning and rolling onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Incredible. Awesome. Unbelievable.” 

He rolled back over me, settling himself between my legs. It was ridiculous, he was hardly panting at all while I was panting like I’d just finished the New York Marathon. And he clearly had a very short refractory period, the way his cock was growing hard again between my legs. He pushed against me and I was so swollen that it almost hurt.  Almost.

I wasn’t quite sure how I’d gone from studying in the law library to the bed of one of the biggest jocks on campus. Yet, here I was. His bed was surprisingly comfortable for a boy, with soft, clean sheets and more pillows than I would have expected. Not surprisingly, it smelled like him, a mixture of soap and some sort of woodsy scent with some other smell that was just him.

Lifting his torso, he reached between us and cupped my heavy breast in his hand, tweaking the nipple between his fingers. It immediately responded to his touch, hardening into a point that could have cut glass. He just grinned and bent his head, latching on and sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck. Yes.”

As he shifted his attention to my other nipple, I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his hips, heels pressing against the back of his thighs.

“Are you sore?” he asked, his voice muffled against my breast.


He flexed his hips against me and my entire body shuddered. “I want you again. Are you too sore for me?”

I wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow, but I didn’t really care and I pushed up against him. “No, mmmmmmm, I’m okay.”

“You sure,” he asked, reaching between us and taking hold of his erection, rubbing it up and down against me.

“I’m sure,” I said, nodding. This might be my only opportunity to enjoy an athlete, and I was going to take advantage of it. “Fuck me.”

He grinned and pressed forward, easing his hardness back inside me for the third time. And it was still as good as the first.

“Yes.” I stretched my arms up, wrapping them around his neck as he moved above me, my hips straining upwards to meet his thrusts.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, his lips moving against my neck. “So fucking tight around my cock.”

I’d never done anything like this. I spent my life moving between my work and the university, spending all of my free time buried in the law library. I’d had boyfriends, sure, but time with them had been scheduled, carefully scheduled, and always scheduled after any work and study requirements. I wasn’t sure what had changed this afternoon, other than I’d hit a completely massive road block in my thesis and was starting to panic when he’d crossed my path. Somehow, instead of chipping away at that block, I found myself in his bed being fucked into oblivion.

His lips found my earlobe and pulled the lobe into his mouth, sucking hard and releasing it quickly. “Fucking hell, I’m going to come. Are you there?”

“Yes.” I arched my back and moved so that his pelvis was more directly rubbing mine with every thrust. “Yes.”

One, two, three more thrusts and he came with a growl, making me shudder. Thankfully, his hips continued to flex as he finished, his throbbing cock and the stroke of his hips bringing me over the edge.

As I came down, my legs relaxed, dropping away from his hips. He rolled off me onto his back on the bed.

“Holy shit.  That was… .”

“Amazing.  Incredible. Awesome. Unbelievable.”  He grinned.

I laughed.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back tomorrow for “Q”.



Inclined to lustfulness. Wanton. Lewd. Arousing sexual desire. Indicating sexual interest or expressive of lust or lewdness.

Welcome to ‘L’ day on the A to Z Challenge. A little 300 word scene starter that may be continued tomorrow.

Fastening the black lace between her breasts, she smoothed her hands down over the soft chiffon of the baby doll top and adjusted the elastic of her panties at her hips. She ran a brush through her mass of red hair, letting the length settle in loose waves around her shoulders. A final touch of shiny lip gloss to her lips and she was ready.

Stepping back into the bedroom she paused, looking around. He’d been busy while she was gone, lighting candles and placing them around the room. Now he stood at the window, his back to her, looking out over the lit city beyond.


“Babe,” she said, crossing the room on bare feet. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Nothing really,” he replied, turning to watch as she moved towards him. “Whoa. Where’d you get that?”

“You like?” She did a little twirl. “I found it in a little boutique downstairs.”

“I like” he said, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her against him. “I like a lot.”

With that she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his, greedily demanding he return her kiss. Tongues tangling and teeth clashing, his hands fisted in the delicate fabric, pulling her tight to him.

“More,” she mumbled against his mouth, her hips rocking, rubbing up against his growing erection.

“Yes,” he replied, lifting her and walking towards the bed.

She loved how strong he was, how he could carry her across the room and lower them both gently to the bed, almost without breaking a sweat. And then he could hold himself above her on strong arms, his pelvis resting in the cradle of her hips.

Urgency still simmering beneath the surface, she paused, running her fingers over his forehead and smoothing the creases marring his skin.

See you back here tomorrow for ‘M’.

Photo is mine today!


It’s ‘K’ day in the A to Z Challenge and I’ve decided to go back to the beginning of my flash fiction journey.

I wrote today’s little snippet as my first entry in a flash fiction competition. I didn’t win (I did win the Virgin Award for my first time in the competition) but I loved the little taste. And when I thought of ‘kitchen’ as today’s inspiration, I thought of this.

Let me know what you think.

Adult content below.

I looked back at him sprawled across the bed, beautifully naked, his head hanging backwards off the side at an uncomfortable angle. I remembered the feel of his waist tight between my knees, his chest hard and cock deep inside me, his fingers pulling and twisting at my nipples as I rode him into unconsciousness. Having now experienced his apparently natural abilities, I’d never have guessed that he was a virgin.

Wearing only black lace, I padded barefoot into the kitchen, mentally running through Nanna’s recipe for cherry pie. Scott would need sustenance when he woke, before he took me again, and I needed a distraction while I gave him time to recover. Starting with the pastry, I mixed and measured, kneading the dough out on the bench. 

Absorbed in my kneading, and a little daydreaming, I didn’t hear him move up behind me, wasn’t aware of him until he pressed against me, his cock needy against my lower back. 

“Keep kneading,” he murmured, slipping his fingers beneath my lace, unerringly finding my clit and working me to a rapid climax. My knees released and we both slipped to the floor, all thoughts of cherry pie replaced by him. 


I’ll be back tomorrow for ‘L’ day… brought to you by the word ‘lascivious’.


I’m catching up! I certainly wasn’t expecting to be writing this at 9:23 pm today, but I’m here and I am. Today (well, yesterday) was ‘J’ day in the A to Z Challenge and today’s inspiration is jewellery.

Who doesn’t love jewellery. And even more so, who doesn’t love Tiffany’s (this first photo is actually mine!  A photo of their store on Fifth Avenue in New York).


So tonight I thought I’d do a 200 word flash fiction inspired by jewellery.

As always, I’d love to hear what you think…

The morning sun slipped underneath the half lowered blinds, spotlighting the mess of clothes strewn across the floor. The empty bottle of champagne stood on the side table, flanked by the beautiful crystal flutes, still partly full. As she roused and stretched, she rubbed the back of her hand against her face. And scratched the hell out of her cheek. 

Then she remembered.

“Will you marry me?”

“Fuck. Yes! Of course yes!”

Holding her left hand out in front of her and wiggling her fingers she admired the beautiful ring. Although they’d never discussed rings, he’d listened well over the years and had, without any help, picked the exact ring she would have picked for herself. A beautiful, brilliant round diamond flanked on each side by a blood red rubies in a simple platinum setting. It was gorgeous.

“Good morning, Mrs Martin.”

She giggled. “I’m not Mrs Martin yet. Still Ms Taylor here.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. “We have to fix that. And soon. When should we get married?”

“Lots to plan,” she murmured, rubbing herself back on his morning erection.

“Hmmmm, yes,” he agreed, pushing back. “Plan later?”

“Yes. Much later.”

And we’re done… much later than I intended! See you tomorrow for ‘K’.


Whoopsie. I’m a day late and a dollar short… well, just a day late.

As always, I had good intentions but my Friday went a little more pear shaped than I had anticipated, so I didn’t get to post. And then I had good intentions of doing it first thing this morning, but that didn’t happen either. But I am here… and I’m currently working on a post for today… to cover ‘I’ and I’ll take advantage of the rest day tomorrow to post for ‘J’. Hopefully I’m not stretching the A to Z Challenge rules too much!

So first, ‘I’… and my promised ‘I’ inspiration: illicit, infatuated or indecent.

I’ve decided to go with illicit, which is defined as forbidden by rules, law or custom. And, once I’d read that definition, I decided that I had to give you a little Gabriella and Antonio. So the next step in their illicit rendezvous is below.

Walking out of the wine bar, I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me up. Everything felt a little unreal, like everything had been slowed down and, as I stepped out onto the footpath, I stumbled slightly. Antonio reached out, his huge hands coming to rest on my hips as he steadied me.

“Thank you,” I said, fighting a blush as I got my feet back underneath me.

“You’re welcome,” Antonio replied with an incline of his head.

I stepped forward, starting to head towards my apartment. “I, uh, I’m down this way.”

As we began to walk, Antonio dropped his hands and I immediately missed their warmth. I wasn’t a small woman and his huge hands almost spanned the width of my hips. I wondered what those hands would feel like against my bare skin and immediately shivered. Then I started thinking about why his hands would come to be on my skin. And I wondered again what the hell I was doing.

I started walking faster towards my apartment, trying to burn off some nervous energy. Antonio kept up easily, his long legs matching pace with my much shorter ones. As we reached my front door, he put out a hand to stop me.

“You are nervous, yes?” he asked, his head tilting sideways as he watched my face.

“Uh, um, uh. Well, yes,” I said, looking at the ground. “I am.”

He reached forward, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “It’s okay to be nervous. But please remember, you are in control. Nothing will happen unless you want it to.” 

I nodded, and he lifted my face towards him. 

“But,” Antonio grinned. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to kiss you now.” 

“Oh.” Blinking stupidly, I couldn’t find words. His gaze was steady, and patient, waiting for my answer, but his hands had somehow made themselves back to my hips and I could feel his thumbs rubbing softly against my hip bones. As he rubbed, my whole body seemed to pulse. I struggled to think clearly but his touch felt so good, I knew I wanted more. 



And there it is, a little more of Gabriella and Antonio… I promise I won’t leave you hanging but there’s a lot of April to go!

See you tomorrow…

G is for Grind

I’m so tired! It’s been a long few weeks here, and between trying to keep up at home, at work and with my writing, all I really want to do is crawl into bed and stay there for an extended period of time.

It’s been such a… grind.

Which leads me to today’s ‘G’ word inspiration – grind. And I’ve decided to give myself a little 200 word dirty talking challenge…  As always, I’d love to hear what you think.

Beware, there is adult content and language below.

“Oh… ah… yes… right there.”

His thick fingers were deep inside me, stroking at just the right spot to make me clench and moan. The heel of his hand pressed against me, and I pushed down, grinding against him, wanting more, more something. More friction, more heat, more of him.

“Jesus, look at you riding my hand,” he muttered, wiggling his fingers inside me. “So fucking wet for me.”

He pushed his fingers deeper, rocking his hand against me as I ground against it, reaching for release. Then he pulled his hand away.

“No, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He just grinned and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. “Do you want my fingers or my cock?”

Wow. Tough question.

“Cock. I want your cock.”

“Good answer babe,” he said, shifting between my legs, his knees pressing my thighs apart. He settled back on his heels, idly rubbing his hand up and down his shaft as he watched me. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“For god’s sake, just fuck me!”

He laughed and leaned forward, guiding his cock inside me in one smooth slide.

“Oh, yes. Fuck yes.”

“So hot and wet around me.”

“Yes. Yes. More. Please.”

And yes, leaving you slightly unsatisfied, but I hit my 200 word goal, sorry!

See you tomorrow for ‘H’ – heart.

French kiss

Day seven and I’m still here, although it’s been a long day and I almost forgot today’s post! Let’s hope I get it finished before I fall asleep!

Today is ‘F’ day and, after much internal deliberation, the word inspiration for the day is ‘French kiss’ and is used in a little flash fiction.

“Crap, it’s really cold,” I said, sliding out of the taxi.

He looked at me, eyes sliding up and down my bare legs as he handed me the umbrella. “I know, but we don’t have far to go.”

The day had been miserable, misty and damp, but we were in Paris and the weather didn’t seem to matter. Waking up late, we took time to make ourselves even later. When we finally rolled out of bed, we’d enjoyed a very late breakfast of flaky pastries and coffee in a little patisserie in the Latin Quarter and then spent a few hours wandering through beautiful art in the Musee d’Orsay. He’d dragged me away on closing, hurrying me back to the hotel to get ready for our dinner.

“Are you okay to walk in those shoes?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I like them, but they’re not really made for walking.”

“They’re fine. I’m used to them.”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me across the plaza, apparently a little excited about his plans for tonight. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped and pulled me into his arms, the umbrella tilting to the side as my hands came to rest on his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing his lips against my forehead.

“And I love you,” I replied, lifting my face towards his. “Thank you for this weekend.”

“My pleasure.”

I laughed. “It will be your pleasure later, but only if I don’t freeze to death first! Let’s find this restaurant, okay?”

Just a little snippet tonight… but as always, I want to know what you think. Or feel free to explore the site a little!

See you tomorrow with ‘G’.


Today’s ‘C’ word is cheating… and I’m introducing you to Greta Jones in a little dialogue exercise (and yes, I’m also slightly cheating as I’ve had this piece written for a while!).

Greta is 24 and works as a secretary in a small law office in a small country town. She’s married to James Jones and they have a six year old son, Blake. Greta’s weakness is her love for James, which has probably kept her in the relationship longer than she should have stayed.

James is 28 and works as a labourer. His weaknesses are ladies and liquor, not necessarily in that order.

We meet Greta as she’s waiting for James to get home… when he gets there, Greta accuses him of having an affair.

Note that adult language follows below.

“You’re late.” 

“I just walked in the bloody door and you’re already on my back. Fuckin’ hell. Where’s my food?”

“You’re late. You said you’d be home three hours ago. Your dinner is on the table. It’s cold.”

“Fuckin’ hell. You can’t do anythin’ right can you?”

“Your dinner was hot three hours ago. When you said you’d be home. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been out.”

“Out where?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Yes. Fuckin’ oath I’ve been drinkin’. I work hard. I’m fuckin’ allowed a beer with the boys after work.  What? What the fuck are you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Are you having an affair?”

“What the fuck?”

“Are you having an affair?  Well?  Will you answer my question please. You’ve not been out drinking beers with the boys, you smell like scotch and flowers. So, are you having an affair?”

“Leave it alone Greta.”

“No James, I won’t leave it alone. Please don’t lie to me. Are you having an affair?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say Greta? You want me to tell you I’ve been fuckin’ around?”

“I want you to tell me the truth James.”

“No, you don’t Greta. You want me to stand here and tell you that you’re crazy and that everythin’ll be okay. You and your fuckin’ fairy tales.”

“They’re not fairy tales James. And please don’t yell at me, you’ll wake Blake. I know you’re having an affair with Debra.”

“Well, fuck me. If you know everythin’, what’ya asking me for?”

“So, it’s true?”

“Fuckin’ hell. I give up. Yes. Yes, it’s true. I’ve been fuckin’ Debra Harrison six ways from Sunday. You weren’t puttin’ out, I had to get it somewhere.”

“How dare you. I’ve been here holding down a full time job and raising our son. I’m sorry if that didn’t leave me a lot of time to ‘put out’ for you.”

“Man’s got needs Greta. I mean, if you’re not givin’ it up… what did you expect me to do?”

“You’re an asshole James. What did you expect of me?”

“You’re my wife. You’re supposed t’look after all my needs.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I dunno. Since Blake’s birthday.”

“Jesus James. That’s over nine months. We’ve been together during that time. Have you been safe?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Condoms James! Did you use condoms with her?”

“Fuck no, you know I hate those things.”

“What, so now you’re gonna cry? You wanted to know.”

“Get out. Pack your things and get out of my house.”

“It’s my fuckin’ house too. I pay for it. I’m not leavin’.”

“Get out. I want you gone.”

“I’m not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. You wanted to know. Now you know. And you have to deal with it. I’m goin’ to bed.”

And that’s it for day three.  I’ll be back tomorrow for ‘D’ day.  See you then!