TITS awful erotica

This is a short scene I wrote for a group swap on swap-bot as part of the group Totally Inappropriate Trashy Swaps. The theme for the swap  is Awful Erotica… hope you (don’t) like it!

NSFW! 

Watermelon Jello shooters… not only had they been what lead up to their current situation, but that was also the color and consistency of her ass as he gave it another good smack; he did love watching it jiggle after a good swat. She was on all fours, her pink ass in the air like a bitch in heat ready to be mounted by the first stud who happened by.  He leaned back and admired his handy work as he opened the lube they’d grabbed at the CVS as they’d stumbled home in their boozy Jello inebriation.

“Don’t call me Mr Grey, babe” he said as he eyed her puckering starfish “tonight I’m gonna be 50 shades of Mr Brown,” he said while lubing up his half hard whisky dick. Her slit was moist and glistened with anticipation even though he had no intentions of giving it any attention.

“Feed me Daddy, the kitty’s hungry” she moaned.

He gave her another good slap and she rawred like a tiger cub.  His cock was hot and hard in his grip, a tighter grip than her worn out baby oven would be able to provide him.

He leaned in to her with full intentions of taking the on ramp to the Hershey Highway, but in his drunken state ended up in her cum dumpster instead.  She moaned and slammed her hips back into him… it was too late to change course now. He let his head drop back and sighed hoping he could get his nut before she became religious.

Dang… I should really paint over that water spot on the ceiling.

He grabbed her hips so he wouldn’t fall out which just turned her volume to 12.  Do we need more lube? He pondered as he reached down and slid his calloused fingers between her beef curtains.  Nope, slick as goose poop.

“Oh Papi, it’s hot.”

“Yeah baby, it’s so good” he said with a flat affect.

“No Papi… it’s really hot!”

She pulled away from him and rubbed at her cunt with the sheets.  “What the hell!?  I feel like I’m on fire!”  He was noticing more of a burn now too. He grabbed the tube of lube from the bed – “it’s warming gel.”

“Gel, or lube?” she shouted.

“What’s the difference?”

“EXTERNAL VERSUS INTERNAL USE!”, she shouted over her shoulder as she ran for the shower.

He rolled over and faced the wall, not even interested in finishing the job.  Well, blue balls will at least mean I feel something for the next few days. And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep, the artificial fire in his loin still burning.

 

 

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His Smile – Daily Post, Flash Fiction

Here is my longer (but still less than 300 words) flash fiction post for the Daily Post Flash Fiction Challenge.

 

She tried to hide her grin by dipping her head and fingering her hair behind her ear as she passed by the new doorman that morning.  She caught the gleam in his eye though which was a new addition to his usual brilliant smile he’d given her the past two mornings.

Last night had been an incredible blur.  She’d literally run into him in front of the building as he was trying to help her in with her groceries.  He’d been a hard, immovable object; she’d warmed instantly at the contact, the first time she’d been warm all day.  Forty degrees and rain made for a long, miserable day when you were hailing cabs and trying to make meetings all day.  The wet bag disintegrated on their contact and cans, fruit, and a couple of frozen dinners had spilt all over the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry Ma’am, I’ll get them.” He’d said, as he took off his long overcoat and placed it around her shoulders.  “Here, head in where it’s warm, and I’ll round up your escapees.”   That smile never left his face as he was gathering her wet groceries and putting them in his hat, and folded left arm.

Damn.  The way that rain soaked white shirt clung to his strong, broad shoulders made her want to do exactly the same thing.

After a little forced wine and some light conversation she’d convinced him that he wouldn’t get fired for being upstairs and that it could be their little secret.  He relaxed just a little, but even a little was enough for her to make her move.  After hours of pure bliss, she’d helped him to sneak out.

“Good morning Ms. Reed.”

“Actually, it’s Missus” his co-worker corrected.

And just like that, that gorgeous smile was erased.

 

The wait

Ok, attempt #2 at the 50 word only Daily Post.

 

She hadn’t slept.  Two firefighters died overnight fighting the apartment fire.  He’d forgotten his phone.

The rancid smell of smoke filled the room.  He was home.  Safe.

Soot still covered his face.  “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

She ran into his arms.  “Thank God you’re home.” She sobbed.  “I’m pregnant.”

First sight

I thought I’d throw out a “Fifty” entry for the Daily Post Challenge.  Just 50 little words strung together trying to tell a story.

 

I caught a glimpse of him while pushing through a crowd on a random Tuesday.  It was his eyes; palest blue I’d ever seen.  I realized I was staring when I realized he was staring.  He came to help me after I tripped on the curb; wicked grin in place.

Aaaaannnnnnd… That’s it. 50 words.

A Wanna-be Writer’s Utopia

I like to write; that’s kind of the whole purpose of this blog… I am finding though that it sometimes takes a lot out of me, and that maybe I have more of an issue with ADD (and maybe depression) than I thought I did.  My last post was at the end of January, and was in response to one of the daily writing challenges.  I wrote from the heart, and, well, have been just a bit emotionally raw ever since.  I’m looking at today’s Daily prompt, “Never Gonna Give You Up”, and thinking that if I write in response to this topic, it will again be related to my last post.  I am going to refrain.  The purpose of this prompt is supposed to be related to a particular vice that one has, but I believe that in anything creative, you are always free to interpret it as you see fit; I don’t see “vice” with “Never Gonna Give You Up”.  I think my post today will mostly include a lot of rambling related to my process (or rather lack thereof) of writing.

I envision a perfect world where I don’t work.  Not really that I don’t work I suppose, but that I can get up in the mornings at my leisure, take my time getting out of bed,  only to go downstairs grab a cup of coffee  and snuggle into an overstuffed chair and write… or draw… but I can’t draw.  There would be soft, muted, natural light coming through a big window behind me, and a warm, soft blanket draped over the chair for when my feet got cold; there would be sandalwood, or some days patchouli perfuming the air to add to my calming environment, and probably a big terrarium against the wall 90 degrees from where I sat (likely with red-eyed tree frogs, a lizard of some kind, as well as a “pond” type area with a couple of small fish).  Again, that’s my perfect world.  I know me, and know that would never work.  I would lie in bed for hours because it’s just too darned comfortable there!  And, once I did get up and come downstairs, I would get so distracted by other things that needed to be done, that I would never get around to the part where I’m actually supposed to write.  Of course, if I did get around to writing, there are so many ideas and idea fragments zipping around in my head, that I would not be able to put anything very coherent down on paper…

Maybe I need to change my idea of my perfect world.  Perhaps what I need is a more regimented schedule starting at 8 am (no earlier, I really dislike mornings) where I get up, shower, and head to yoga class.  Maybe this would help me to focus on the task at hand?  I have a referral from my PCP to be tested for ADD, but have yet to make the appointment…  I’m not sure why.  The best I can figure is that I’ve heard that once you start taking meds for ADD that the multiple things going on in your head all at once stop.  Just.  Stop… Whoa.  That’s kind of intimidating to me; I’ve become rather accustomed to having multiple things going on in my head all at once, I worry that it would be too quiet in my head.  I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone but me, but that’s what I think.  I also worry that it wouldn’t make a difference, and that I still wouldn’t get anything accomplished.  I have what I sometimes think is an irrational fear of failing.  I don’t commonly fail at things, and in fact am usually able to accomplish whatever I set my mind on doing; still though, I sometimes don’t commit myself to very involved projects simply because I am afraid of the possibility of failure.  Ok, let us get back on topic.  I think too that I would benefit from carrying a notebook or stack of colored post-its with me so that I could jot down ideas when I have them and post them on a board once I got back to my writing spot.  Maybe this board could live next to the terrarium… Oh, and can I also have a personal grammar coach?  I love the oxford comma, but wonder if I add too (to?) many commas in general, or if I use semi colons to (too?) much, or inappropriately.

Well, one day; in my perfect world.  A girl can dream can’t she? 🙂

So, maybe this post does come close to the topic.  Maybe my vice is my disorganization; whether it’s caused be ADD or just poor planning on my part, it seems to be a protective mechanism for me to keep from getting hurt/rejected/failing; however you want to see it.  I wish I could eliminate some of my stressors that I feel keep me derailed and not able to focus on one thing at a time (dealing with 2 mortgages right now, infertility, bills, work, etc.), but these are just part of life aren’t they?  I don’t see how to eliminate things like these without being independently wealthy and a hermit.  Time to start working on some good stress management techniques, bring on the hot yoga! And, since spring is coming, let’s break out the running shoes!

Check out some other posts on the Daily Prompt!

Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. On Homophobia | AS I PLEASE
  2. Volcano | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  3. Apathy | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  4. say what you mean, mean what you say | the hilarious pessimist
  5. Motes in Other’s Eyes/Daily Prompt | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
  6. I drink too much – Daily Prompt | alienorajt
  7. Vices of many… | thoughtsofrkh
  8. Waking Up To A Nightmare And Daily Prompt | The Jittery Goat
  9. One Crazy Mom » Never Gonna Give You Up….Or Am I?
  10. Smelly, Stinky Vice Rant
  11. I.N.S.O.M.N.I.A. | littlegirlstory
  12. Vice and Versa | Kate Murray
  13. Close Enough | Rima Hassan
  14. DP Daily Prompt: Never Gonna Give Up | Sabethville
  15. Daily Prompt: Never Gonna Give You Up | tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice
  16. Please Don’t Burp In My Face! – Anecdotes | wangsgard.com
  17. Daily Prompt: Never Gonna Give You Up « Mama Bear Musings
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  19. Sexual assault: the reality – Daily Prompt. Disturbing read. | alienorajt
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  28. Please Throw Away the Candy Wrappers | marjanitalarosa
  29. Hope | Busy Mind Thinking
  30. Daily Prompt: Never Gonna Give You Up | Delicious Ambiguity
  31. S. Thomas Summers: Writing with Some Ink and a Hammer | When the Vultures Come
  32. Just Order, Food Neophobia Or Not | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  33. Daily Prompt: Never Gonna Give You Up- Dishonesty and Self Hatred | Journeyman
  34. Never gonna give you up… Today’s daily prompt. | The Shevster’s Space
  35. Consider this! | The Shotgun Girls
  36. Daily Prompt: Being Mean! | All Things Cute and Beautiful
  37. Viceroy of Micro Managing | To Write With a Broken Pencil is Pointless
  38. DAILY PROMPT: NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP – VICE | Francine In Retirement
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  41. There is no getting around it – people are hard to live with | An Upturned Soul

Message in a Bottle: Eulogy for Joshua and Star – Daily Prompt

I quickly made a check of Facebook this morning only to find that my half-brother who has never really been interested in having much of a relationship posted that his son, my nephew had died… 2 weeks ago. I guess it is only appropriate that I found out about the death of his child on Facebook, as this was also how I found out about his birth. This post is in loving memory of a life cut short as well as for a miscarriage from a few years ago that still haunts me. I made it to the beach today only in my mind (house), but it was a much needed mental get away.

Below is my contribution to the Daily Promt. The topic for the day is – “You’re at the beach, lounging on your towel, when a glistening object at the water’s edge catches your eye. It’s a bottle — and yes, it contains a message. What does it say?”

I left the house this mourning to find a secluded place to sit on the beach. I needed a place to think, and to write. The sand and the sun are warm, but the wind is whipping in torturous spurts as I feel it always does in times of sorrow. I found out today that a child has died.

I take out my paper and begin to write a eulogy to a child I’ve never met; maybe to this child as well as a pregnancy that never was able to grow. The words flow like the tears I’ve been holding back. Once I’m done, I place the paper in a beautiful blue bottle, seal it, and send it into the sea and hope She is able to wash away my misery. I’m good at this, bottling things up and trying to throw them away.

I sit on the beach for a long while and am only vaguely aware of the passing of time. I watch dolphins play in the distance and secretly wonder how they can be happy on a day like today. I pair of lovers walks hand in hand down the water’s edge and I wonder if they’ve ever known loss. I am angry at them for no reason other than they are happy.

I close my eyes and realize I’ve been listening to the same sound for several minutes now. I look out and discover it is my bottle, returned to shore, bobbing, and tapping against a shell to get my attention. I know it’s my bottle, but it seems to urgently want me to open it and discover its contents; so I do.

To my sweet child that never was, and to my beautiful nephew who left too soon,

Know that even though your time with us here on earth was ever so short, you left a mark on our hearts, and will evermore grow and thrive there. You will never be forgotten. You will always have a home in our memories. Your lives will ever be honored. Be well our little ones, your brief time here brought us great joy and that will always be cherished.

With never-ending love,
Momma/ Auntie Heather

My bottle, the Sea, perhaps my soul are telling me that I need to read my own message. I do. I smile a little to myself and gather my things remembering happier times. I know there will be ups and downs, but for now I’m up; and I will cherish this feeling as long as I can.

Please check out some of the other posts from today’s topic; I have listed some of my favorites below.

Daily Prompt: SOS | The Daily Post

it will flow

Daily Prompt: SOS

Bean-O

He Glistened

Message in a Bottle

Daily Prompt: SOS

Photograph: Bound to the Shore