Eight to Twelve Word Stories.

Prompt: Self Destruction in love.

Loving her left me with a journal, xanax, and whiskey.

Drugs and rock n’ roll were kids stuff or stupid, but not Sex

Best friends ate together, laughed together, and fought over cocaine.

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Leather Bound

“Leather Bound Babes?”
He reads the title and laughs like a mad man, utterly unable to ignore the contorted figure on the cover. She just chuckles and pulls another book from the book store’s battered gunmetal grey shelves.

In that quiet back corner of the book store they were surrounded by bodice rippers and rippling bare chested cowboys. Titles with subtly obscene and obnoxious names surrounded them, and reminded them how many innuendos included the words “come” and the phrase “Doing the”. For all the joking and the laughing, they shared a mutual love of the romance section. Their gentle jabs and riffs arose from a place of pure affection, not petty scorn for a genre. Her life had been where the book had been her one constant companion in the face of scorn, and of course she read those silly titles to feel a love once deemed impossible for her to find. His love of the genre came from sneaking in his mother’s stack of books from the library or thrift store after he blew through his own. He read page after page not caring about it being “kissy kissy stuff”, as he told her.

“Sometimes I wonder if these male models have faces or anything else besides chests.”

She laughed. “What more do they need…well-” she whispered, “besides fourteen inch dicks?” They both chuckled and glanced around to make sure no wandering youngsters could hear them. “Apparently that’s all women want.”

“Is it true?” He teased.

“Oh god no, but it is a nice thought. Just…” she motioned towards the field of covers surrounding them from the front and flank. “very ultra common.”

“Well, it sort of suits the genre, no?” he said.

“The books aren’t bad. The covers often are, but that makes them more fun.” She picked a bright purple cover with a couple leaning against a ranch fence from the shelf. As she scimmed the pages she saw, from the corner of her eye, him watching her closely. “What’s on your mind?” As she spoke her eyes fell on the phrase ‘engorged rod’. For some reason that one always tripped her up and made her laugh. Something about it seemed so retro and so visceral and yet so not descriptive. She just found it…oddly hilarious.

“It’s cool that you’re cool with this,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“A lot of people would give me shit if they knew a big burly guy like me liked this stuff.” Sadly, she agreed that people would be so stupid.

“People are shitty, but you are perfect.” She leaned up on her tip toes and placed a soft kiss against his full and soft lips, which curled into a smile as they pulled away. She lived to see that smile.

Her boyfriend looked like a friendly neighborhood lumberjack with the beard and broadness to match. For the New Year, he’d begun working out regularly, pushing himself to the limit and then farther. The result was his natural broadness gained tone and got a bit broader, a bit harder, and he really looked like one of those men of the mountain. But he didn’t play any B.S games about what he should do as a man. He could fix a truck and then drive it to craft store, would be the first to suggest salad for dinner, and ,dare she say, he cried at the same points in movies she did. The night before they had watched Beaches. It was a mess and they ran out of kleenex. Actually, that was why they’d gone out and they decided on the way to get more books.

Like they didn’t have enough books.

“I’m not perfect,” he said as he turned to the covers. Dozens of chiseled bare chests stared back at him and his face knotted a little. She wrapped an arm around his own, a small comfort in the face of his own insecurities. He never wanted to be jacked, but she’d sense he’d been somewhat unhappy with his build. He didn’t lose a shit ton of weight,  and replace it with lean muscle Chris Evans Captain America like muscle. He gained muscle and it just layered under his chubby bits. He wasn’t as fat as he thought he was. He had a bit of tummy, a nice butt(which she grabbed often), and the sort of meatiness she found comforting. Why didn’t he see it that way? His eyes absorbed those cover images with half covetous jealousy, and she pulled him closer. Through their winter pea coats she felt his warmth surround her and she nuzzled against him.

“Do you know what I like about you?” she asked.

“My charming wit and lackluster personality?”

She shook her head, then beamed up at him with all the love in her heart.

“You’re very real. You aren’t a ken doll. You have meat, and substance, and a unique feeling. I like you in my arms, and on my body and…in my body.” She watched his cheeks beam firetruck red, a better sign of how effective her words were than anything he could say. “Truthfully very few of these guys do it for me, but you…you’re real to me, for me, and your flaws are perfect.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say, and so he kissed her again, sealing his mouth to hers. In seconds a deep meaningful kiss descended into raw meaningful passion. They were consumed by each other, breathing in a moment in time that would never be exactly repeated. A quiet couple solidifying one part of their love surrounded by books that often subverted the cozier notions of love like reading together, shopping together, or simply not being those perfect people.

“Ahem?” A voice startled them.

The couple instantly parted, both flustered and feeling a tad exposed as a store clerk rounded the corner. As she struggled to say the socially appropriate thing he cleared his throat then said “Sorry, this seemed the best section for romance.”

“Well,” the clerk chuckled, “Romance is the section not lust.”

“Judging by the look of it, ” she said glancing around them. “Not exactly.”

20 Minute Erotica Challenge

An old challenge I used to do every month that I think I’m bringing back.

Driving me insane

2/19/14

She misses him more than words can say.

So when they reunite she kisses him with a grin then captures him in her arms. In response he squeezes far too tight. Her back cracks, eliciting a half groaned out laugh.

~~

They are alone

He takes her by the waist, and kisses her hard in a way she didn’t know she missed. Her heart is beating against her chest, as fire pumps through her veins. There is him, and his bed, and her panties damp from heavy petting and frequent kisses. When he breaks away it is only to kiss along her jaw to her neck. He sucks her flesh, and bites hard until she digs her fingers in his back. It takes her a moment to realize he’s unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. He pushes her down to his bed and gets on top of her. Their eyes meet, and she whispers “I love you.” and he smiles and says the same. Their lips are crashing against each other, as he slides his hand under her shirt, pinching both nipples at once, so she moans into his mouth. He’s hard, and she grinds against him. The sheerness of her leggings only makes her more eager.

Pants come off, and legs are spread. He’s hard, and his eyes are glazed over in a mixture of lust and love. She licks her lips, half mad in her desire, shivering as his cock brushes her wet womanhood. With a grunt he thrusts deep. Her walls clench and massage his cock, pulsing as if celebrating his welcome familiarity. She looks into his eyes, and he looks into hers. Nothing is more real than that. He pulls back, and thrusts in again, causing a mild slick noise. She blushes and he chuckles at her reaction. He begins to thrust in earnest. His lips meet hers furiously, and their tongues dance in each others mouths and across their lips. Her tongue traces down to his neck. She adorns his delectable flesh in sweet kisses that descend in nibbles and hard needy sucks. This time she wants to leave a mark. He belongs to her just as much as she to him. His chest is brazing against her soft sensitive nipples. Her legs are locked around him tight, and she knows it’s only driving him further into their sweat ridden madness. The tenderness fades in his motions, but not his eyes. She gasps and groans, signaling that he found her spot. He beats upon it with his throbbing cock until he’s groaning with her. With a hard thrust, she spasms, orgasms, like heaven fell into her body. He keeps going and she’s louder now. She tries to quiet herself, and he groans, driving deep sending them both into orgasm. Hers sends her whirling. She forgets her own name as the shivers ravage her body. But she remembers his and sings it to the high heavens, again and again she sings. The warmth of his cum inside her and his cocks throbbing makes her bite her bottom lip. It’s a feeling she loves. Their time apart has built up, and she knows when he pulls out, and she puts on her panties she’ll be swimming in a sea of his seed. She doesn’t care. She never has. It’s perfect as it is

 

Written in 20 minutes.

 

Warm Up Time! “Daily Prompt: Second Thoughts”

Prompt: via Daily Prompt: Second Thoughts

With two small boxes in her hand and a man napping on the sofa in front of her Lita began to wonder if she made a mistake. Jon had always been messy…but she had asked him to go on an unpack the boxes in their new living room. She sat the last two boxes from her old tiny apartment down by their new big blue sofa and made her way across the massive room to the kitchen. Her kitchen. She loved this house with all her spirit, and that is why Jon paid just under full market price for it once they decided to live together. As she looked from the gleaming white cabinets to the grey  eco-friendly counter top she knew Jon loved her. It wasn’t just the sex. No. Their…unique relationship had never been just that even as she wore that silver choker around her neck, that silver symbol of her choice to be with him. But living together?

Naughty words and naughtier deeds were a hell of a lot easier than living together, or having the burden of being the one who suggested living in the suburbs right outside the city far from his glittering penthouse in the sky. Yeah, the penthouse she had decorated for him as a favor. Maybe there was a reason for that. He didn’t get everything this house symbolized to a girl who lost her childhood home to pettiness and deceit. He didn’t get that she had been raised to put things just so. He didn’t get how not unpacking even onw of those boxes made her let out a heavy worried sigh. Her boss had been riding her ass all day and that was before she went to her holiday shift at Mint! Eight hours of work followed by four hours of more work, followed by an annoying as hell drive home did not make for a happy Lita. So for him to not do this simple little thing? “It would have been fucking nice…but guess not”. She went to their wine glass cabinet, which she put in order, and grabbed one of their larger glasses. Maybe this had been one big mistake. Maybe Jon just wasn’t living together material…maybe she was just freaking out. She glanced towards the sofa, but noticed how orderly their entertainment console looked. The xbox and wii sat neatly beside each other beneath their massive TV. She could tell the cabinets and cubbies had been filled with controllers, video game cases, DVDS, and a few of his favorite neck knacks(some of which were hers like the figure of the Pink Mighty Morphin Power Ranger doing a high kick, and the hand painted white and gold rabbit she brought back from France. The books, the vases, the paintings, and everything else in the living room remained boxed. But he obviously unpacked their XBOX and router just fine though. Go figure.

“Ugh”

“Go to the bedroom…” Jon’s sleepy voice echoed from the living room.

“Hey, babe…you could have done one other box besides that one-”

“Go to the bedroom” Jon said with a yawn. He popped up from behind the sofa back and stretched.

“I’m really not in the mood for anything now. I just…had a long day.”

Jon’s mouth contorted into a sympathetic frown that deepened as he looked her over. She must have looked more tired than she thought. Perfect. She thought she’d looked cute today. She even matched the red of her blouse to the red that tinted the ends of the locs and wore her red cats eye glasses to match.

“I’m sorry, hun, but go to the bedroom.”

Lita set the glass down on the counter, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. There wasn’t an ounce of fight left in her, so she just shrugged. Chances were she’d get into it once they got started and quite frankly by the look on his face he’d be more than willing to give her a full body massage. The thought made a small smile pierce her annoyance. How could she stay 70% irritated when post-massage sex was one of the best kinds of sex. Still earlier she’d thought about maybe them trying a 24/7 d/s relationship, but if her irritation was any indication that’d never work out. She walked down the hallway to the stairs and each step up reminded her how tired she felt. By the time she reached the second floor she could have asked Jon to come carry her. “Nah…fuck the massage.”
With another little sigh she walked down the hallway, hearing the low bass of one of her favorite songs coming from the bedroom. Lita glanced towards the stairs, hearing Jon’s footsteps approach.

“I’m right behind you!” he said.

“Alright.” Lita kept walking, noting how dim the light coming through the bedroom door was. When she came to it she pushed it open and a gasp left her lips. He may not have gotten to their living room…but he certainly got to work upstairs. The whole room was in perfect order: Their bed was perfectly made and sprinkled with roses; at the front of the bed was their “toy” trunk  with several new toys laid on top; on a nightstand beside a picture from their first date was a tray holding two glasses and an ice bucket with a wine bottle sticking from the top; beneath their television their stereo played music softly beside a vase filled with roses. She stepped inside as the shock rolled over her only to see their bathroom was also perfectly arranged, and inside rose petals lead from the door to the large soaker tub.

He did all this. He took the time out of his day to not only get this all organized, but to dress it up so…romantically. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt tears begin to rise to her eyes. She’d dated but no one had ever done this. No one had ever put something like this together so perfectly just when she needed it most. After being dressed down at work, dealing with angry customers, and petty co-works…and thinking he just blew off what she asked him to do…she came home to this.

Suddenly his arms surrounded her and she felt his lips kiss her neck.

“I thought this was more important. Hope you don’t mind”And against her iron will those tears began to fall, and Jon pulled away and moved in front of her. Deep concern was written in his dark eyes and her wiped the tears from her face. “Please tell me these are happy tears?”

And all Lita could do was laugh and nod her head. Second thoughts. Life had a lot of them, but right then as she embraced him this house, this man, and this life weren’t one.

Concrete: Warm Up Poetry

Concrete.
Smoking as ash dusts over its surface.
Lacking a human touch.
Too afraid to breathe.
Too afraid to run.
Undead earth.

“Fuck”.
The only words in the apartment as they rut like animals.
Grunting, screaming, moaning.
The wet needing openness of lust,
fills with every loving thrust.
Another kisses her mouth,
He grabs her hair and lifts.
From her to his lips.
From her to her to him.
The lonely three in a concrete city,
Finding solace in each other as
fingers find soft and yearning sacred grounds and,
Tantalizing brown and white and red flesh,
She counts the bruises on her neck.
He counts the scars on her shoulders.
She simply screams beneath them both.
Their love is not some ephemeral thing.
Not some weird toy.
Not some sinful thing.
It is simply one thing in a maze of concrete,
And empty houses next to empty homes.