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Posts tagged ‘AtoZChallenge’

Lascivious

Lascivious.

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.

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“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!

Kitchen

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. 

Yum.


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

Jewellery

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).

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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’.

Illicit

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. 

“Yes?” 

“Yes.”


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…

(Broken) Heart

Tonight I was planning on going old-school with my ‘H’ inspiration as heart.

And I was planning to go down a more positive route. But inspiration isn’t really hitting tonight and, what I really want to do, is introduce you to my current main character, Katherine Montgomery.

This is a scene from my current work-in-progress that I won’t be using in its current form. It is, however, one of the first things I wrote when Katherine started to speak to me and, while it’s rough, I love this scene.

I warn you though it’s inspired more by broken heart than heart!

Adult content below.


Katherine breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped her key into the lock. Arriving home after a fourteen hour day at work, she hoped that Anthony, her boyfriend of the last 9 months, had left her some of the Thai takeaway that he’d been planning to bring over for dinner. She was starving and wanted, in order, Thai food, a hot shower and her big comfortable bed.

Walking further into her apartment, Katherine dropped her handbag and keys on the hall table and looked around. She’d expected to find Anthony sprawled on her couch with a container of Pad Thai, drinking a beer and watching the rugby games he’d recorded on her DVR last weekend. Instead, the couch was empty, the television off and Anthony was nowhere to be found.

Slipping out of her shoes and wandering into the kitchen, Katherine found the kitchen as clean as when she’d left that morning. No dishes in the sink, no takeout containers on the counter. She wondered if Anthony had been caught up at work too and wandered back to the hall table to grab her iPhone but there were no messages or missed calls. Odd, she’d have to give him a call and find out what happened.

Deciding to get changed out of her work clothes before she started to forage for food or called Anthony, Katherine padded down the hallway in bare feet towards her bedroom. She’d barely formed the thought that it was strange her bedroom door was closed before she opened it and stopped dead in her tracks. There, on the bed in front of her was her boyfriend, pants crumpled around his ankles, ploughing into what appeared to be a very naked blonde from behind. 

Katherine felt the lump form solidly in her chest as her eyes took in the pretty pink sundress tossed carelessly across her bedside table and the blue men’s shirt hanging artlessly from the antique coat rack in the corner. She’d bought that shirt for Anthony last Christmas. It matched his eyes. Strappy sandals and pieces of pale pink lace lingerie blazed a trail across the floor. A bright blue condom wrapper lay on the bed beside them, stark against the white sheets.

At least they’re practicing safe sex, Katherine thought choking back a laugh as she bordered on the edge of hysteria. Between the closed door, the rhythmic moaning and the slapping sounds they made as he took her so roughly, they’d obviously not heard her come in. Taking a deep breath, Katherine spoke. Loudly.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Anthony’s head whipped around and he stopped mid-thrust, causing his partner to mewl in dissatisfaction. 

“Baby. You’re not supposed to be home for ….” He turned his head to look at the alarm clock beside the bed and Katherine could see it as awareness dawned on his face. He’d miscalculated.

Katherine watched, somewhat horrified, as Anthony stepped back and slipped out of the girl beneath him. He began to walk towards her, his hand out as if he was calming a wild animal, his still erect penis bouncing up against his stomach.

“Baby…” he began, halting his progress across the room as she held her hand up to stop him.

Gathering all of the wits she had left, Katherine straightened up, looking Anthony in the eye. Quietly, she spoke. “I’m going out. I’ll be out for an hour. You and your friend will be gone by the time I get back. And, please, leave your key on the table.”

As she turned and left the room, Katherine thought that the smirk on Anthony’s face would haunt her until the day she died.


So that’s Katherine. You should know, I write romance and, while I like my angst, I like my endings happy ever after. So never fear… Anthony will get his!

See you back here tomorrow for ‘I’… I can’t decide between illicit, infatuated or indecent. Check back to see where I go!

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’.

Escort.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter ‘E’… and the ‘e’ word, escort.

A few months ago I read an article on a male escort service operated by two women from Melbourne, Australia. I was intrigued, and I’ve been following their blog (dearaphroditeblog.blogspot.com.au) for a while now (an excellent source of inspiration!).
So today, I thought I’d start a little scene involving a woman, Gabriella, and her escort, Antonio.

As always, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think… I’d love to know!


Sipping on a glass of red wine I wondered, not for the first time, what the hell I was doing. 

Last week I’d overheard two women on a train discussing the benefits of male escorts and, when they’d let the name of the agency slip, something had made me Google it. I’d been busy at work, in a bit of a dry spell in my personal life and… well. It sounded like a good idea at the time.

From there, a few too many glasses of sauvignon blanc had seen me completing an online booking form, making arrangements to meet Antonio, the Italian Stallion. That hadn’t been the end of it, the booking had only been confirmed when a woman named Priscilla had called me yesterday to confirm the booking, taking my credit card details and suggesting I meet Antonio at this little hole in the wall wine bar not even a block from my apartment.

It was, Priscilla told me, completely up to me whether I took him home; but either way, my credit card would be charged. At the time, I’d agreed, thinking that was fair. But now, sitting here, my stomach was churning and I was thinking that $1500 was going to go to waste.

“Gabriella?”

Holy shit.

Antonio, the Italian Stallion was gorgeous. Much better in person than he was in his profile picture. He had thick, dark curly hair, a well groomed beard and piercing green eyes that were kind of intimidating. It felt like he could read my mind and, given where my mind had immediately gone, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“It is Gabriella, right?” 

I nodded, and swallowed. “Yeah. Yes, Gabriella. You must be Antonio?”

“I am. May I sit?”

“Yes, please. Of course.”

“Thank you,” Antonio said, sitting across from me at the small round table and reaching out to cover my hand with his. He grinned, a cheeky grin. “So, what brings such a beautiful woman out by herself tonight?”

I laughed. It had been exactly the right thing for him to say.

“Well, I had a bit of a rough day at work,” I began, taking another sip of my wine. “And I wanted to take a bit of time to decompress.”

Antonio idly stroked his fingers over the back of my hand, causing my skin to tingle. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m in banking, corporate asset financing.” I shook my head as I saw his forehead crinkle slightly. “I help companies organise financing to buy and lease property and equipment.” Listening to myself I realised I sounded pretty boring.

Antonio nodded. “You must work a lot?”

“Some would say too much,” I replied. “All work and no play makes Gabriella a dull girl.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” he said, glancing at my almost empty wine glass. “Would you like another?”

This was the now or never point. If I ordered another glass it would take time, time for the wine to be served, and for me to drink it. And this was only a three hour engagement.

“Do you like nebbiolo?” I asked.

Antonio looked at me strangely but nodded. “I do.”

“I have a bottle at my apartment,” I said, looking down at the table. “Would you like to join me for a glass?”

Antonio smiled. “I would.”


And, fade to black. I could be convinced to continue this little scene later in the month, so make sure you let me know if you want to see what happens next.

It’s ‘F’ day tomorrow… see you then.

Danse du Ventre

Welcome to ‘D’ day. Today’s inspiration, brought to you by the letter ‘D’, is danse du ventre.  The English translation of danse du ventre is belly dance.

There are, apparently many conflicting theories as to when and where belly dance originated, but it is thought to be one of the oldest forms of dance, and it is said to contain a mixture of different dance styles.

Today, I’m giving you a snippet of a short scene involving my current main character, Katherine, and her hero, Will. It’s a look ahead at some point in the future but, given it’s been raining and cold here all day, I was in the mood for some happy.

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

Adult words and content below.


“Baby, what are you doing?”

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. Last weekend, after imbibing a reasonable amount of fairly expensive French champagne at an ungodly hour of the morning, I’d spent two hours of my life taking a belly-dance class as part of a friend’s bachelorette weekend. Tonight, after three glasses of pinot noir and more information than I’d ever wanted to know about how my best friend had seduced her husband-to-be with her newly learned belly-dancing skills, I thought it would be a great idea to dance for Will.

I’d thought about it all the way home and even done a quick search for erotic music on my iPhone, downloading a short track with a pulsing drum beat. The minute I’d made it through the door I’d stripped to my underwear which was, thankfully, a gorgeous black satin and lace set with garters that he’d bought for me a few weeks ago. I’d been ready to go but, now that I’d found him sprawled all manly-like on the red velvet couch in our bedroom, wearing only loose black pajama pants and with a heavy crystal tumbler of scotch dangling from his hand, I was losing my nerve.

“Babe?” he asked, looking at me curiously.

With a deep breath and my heart pounding, I crossed the room and handed him my unlocked phone, the song ready to go. I stepped back and placed my hands on my hips, cocking my head to the side.

“Press play.”

As the beat started, I started moving my hips, desperately trying to recall the teacher’s instructions from the class, the counts and the steps and the patterns. I had no idea what I was doing. I felt like an idiot. And then I looked up at Will.

His lips glistened, from the scotch I assumed, and his eyes were heavy, hooded, as he watched me awkwardly shimmy my way across the space between us. And suddenly I felt a little less stupid. I relaxed a little more into the steps, bending my knees and moving my hips more sharply as the beat shifted. I turned and wiggled my ass at him, before turning back around to find him slouched back further onto the couch, his legs spread wider and clear evidence of his interest making itself known at the apex of his thighs.

My heart skipped a beat. I loved that I could do that to him, have that affect on him, even though I most definitely wasn’t perfect. I shimmy stepped my way towards him, coming to a stop standing between his legs, one knee cocked as I continued to move my hips.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he asked, one handing reaching out to run a finger over the front of my hip. “That’s fucking hot.”

I reached for his hand and twined my fingers with his, pressing our joined hands to my hip. “Anna’s bachelorette weekend.”

“Fuck,” he murmured, leaning forward and pulling his hand loose before cupping my ass cheeks in his large hands. “Come here.”

He tugged me forward, and I knelt on the couch straddling him, my knees pressing into either side of his hips and his erection firmly pressed between my legs. When he had me exactly where he wanted me he reached up, cupping the back of my head and pulling me down, taking my lips with his.


And, that’s it for today… don’t mean to leave you hanging but, a girl’s gotta save something for the manuscript!

Tomorrow is a rest day… but Monday brings inspiration in the form of the letter ‘E’. I’m thinking escort right now but it is Easter Sunday tomorrow, so who knows what ‘E’-spiration might find me (and if I can’t have e-spiration, a few Easter eggs will suffice!).

Cheating.

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!