Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 7-2-10

Your challenge for this Friday, 7-2-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 72-172 words. Additionally, I'd like to see you use the following phrase somewhere in the submission:

"...her breath caught in her throat..."

As usual, nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase (not really), but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.

As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)

Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way. Next week's photo, for example, has been thoughtfully provided by Luna Mauvaise.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-25-10: "Galatea"

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 6-25-10

(Source image: Icon 01 by Joerg Warda)

Your challenge for this Friday, 6-25-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 82-182 words. In addition, everyone seemed to like the "required phrase" idea from last week, so this week's required phrase is:

"...a study in chiaroscuro".

As usual, nobody's checking the requirements, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.

As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)

Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.

-- PB

Nominated for Sexiest Bloggers of 2010!

You could have knocked me over with a feather when a reader emailed me this morning and told me that Curvaceous Dee has selected me as one of her picks for the third annual Year's Sexiest Bloggers List at Between My Sheets. I checked the comments and yep: sure enough, I'm there in her list.

Well. I hadn't considered campaigning for this, but hey, if somebody's going to nominate me, why not go all out? So if you think I should be on the list, why not head over to that entry and include me in your list of favorites? I'll be sure to thank all the little people when I'm receiving my Oscar. :)

(Seriously -- thanks to Dee for the nomination! I'm honored.)

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-18-10: "Glasnost"

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Group Post: "Discovered Check"

I opened my eyes to discover that I couldn't see a damn thing. Which wasn't really surprising given the layers of thick black cloth that were tightly bound round my head. I strained but the blackness was absolute, except when broken by red flashes when I strained too hard and my eyeballs started to ache in their sockets.

There's a curious sense of doubling when your sight's taken away from you. Centuries of evolution have conspired to make us extremely visually-oriented creatures. Our other senses have dwindled and died to pale shadows of their former selves. Gone the days when Neandertal man would lift his head to scent prey on the wind, gone the days when the slightest crackle of twig or leaf heralded the approach of predators. But there is in us a remarkable overcompensation -- remove one sense and the others will expand to fill its space.

As now. I could hear faint breathing, a soft and steady bellows somewhere to my left. I heard a faint creak as someone shifted in the recliner that sat at the other end of the room. I heard the stately tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, its slow metronome magnified to a "thud-thud". I heard soft footsteps -- bare feet -- padding towards the foot of the bed where I lay. Then they stopped. I heard faint rustling and could tell that whoever it was was bending over me.

I stretched out -- not physically, but sensorily. Closing my eyes still harder, I reached. I detected faint heat moving inches above my bare legs. My mind raced, classifying, rejecting, and suddenly the sensations clicked into place: the warmth of a hand, held just above my skin, moving near-imperceptibly upwards along my thighs. The hair on my legs stirred in response, lifting towards the stimulus, and I heard her make a small sound of approval.

She -- oh yes, it was definitely a She -- was beginning to impinge on my senses in other ways, too. I lifted my head a bit, Neandertal man reborn, and inhaled slowly. A welter of scents flooded my brain. Scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Sharp spike of alcohol (a fine Scotch, from the scent), mixed with ice cubes musty from too long spent in the freezer. Trail of sweat down collarbone. Smoky musk of Woman, flat-sweet with unmistakeable sexual arousal.

My body began responding to that almost instantly. My cock began swelling in the confines of my boxers, and I heard a low murmur from the recliner to the right, counterpointed by a throaty chuckle from the left. I shifted a bit, trying to ease the constriction, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft hand settled on me, squeezing delicately. I groaned as she began to massage me. Softly. Gently. Barely touching, fingertips dragging along my length, squeezing and enhancing as I grew harder. Little crackles of energy burst outwards in radiating spikes as she stroked me.

Off to my left I heard a clink, ice cubes in a glass. A faint slurping sound, then a sharp gasp and a low moan, drifted to me from that same direction. Then I heard footsteps and a soft hand on my face, stroking it, sliding down to my mouth. She grasped my chin and opened my mouth and now I had taste to add to the mix as well; one finger lingered in my mouth and I ran my tongue around it, collecting the salt of her skin, faint oily taste of a hand lotion, feeling the pulse of her pulse in that fingertip. She opened my mouth wider and slipped an ice cube into my mouth. But no ordinary ice cube this. Now I knew the source of that gasp from before. I was overcome by the intensity of her taste -- the spicy, earthy tang of a cunt in full flower. I sucked on that ice cube, devouring her, almost whimpering as her taste dissolved and diluted into nothingness.

Now I felt the hand at my boxers sliding them down my legs slowly. A brief instant of pain as my cock popped free, and then the cool air swirled around my heated skin. Wait, no, that was warmer air. I felt hot breath on my shaft, then warmth and wetness, a tiny thin trail as she ran only the tip of her tongue along my cock from head to balls. I groaned, forcing it out past a throat gone dry with lust.

Now there was a shifting around my head. The bed rocked and creaked, tilting left, and I felt naked skin sliding along my body. That woman-scent struck me again, from much closer range. A shifting and turning, and she sat astride my chest. Now I felt wetness smearing my shirt as she wriggled upward, marking me with her essence, moving closer to my hungry mouth. She lifted and then dropped; suddenly I had her cunt in my mouth, her lips embracing mine, her sticky syrup pouring out over my lips and chin. I attacked ravenously, all thought of niceties or gentleness gone, invading with tongue and teeth, grasping her clit with my lips, swirling my tongue from bottom to top in long hard licks. She moaned a bright brittle moan and I felt her shake; she must have motioned to the one at my cock, because the next instant I was engulfed by heat and wetness there too, a head bobbing on my shaft in delicious counterpoint to the action at my head. I moaned, but it was lost in the slurping and smacking of dual oral worship.

The one riding my face clamped hard around my head with her thighs. Her hips bucked forward, nearly smothering me. My nose nuzzled in the tiny bristly hairs above her slit; a small landing strip pointing the way. I kept up my assault on her clit, now flicking my tonguetip from side to side in a lustful lash. The bucking of her hips and her high moans told of my success and I redoubled my intensity. The one sucking me off was doing the same. A suction worthy of an F5 tornado bade fair to turn me inside out; the heat and velvety friction from her slippery mouth was deliciously intense. I felt my balls draw tight, and I knew she felt it as well, with her fingers wrapped around my sack like they were. Shuddering with delight, I fought to stay back from the edge until I'd tipped the one on my face over ahead of me.

A few short minutes later and I barely managed my goal. A tearing, finishing cry from high above me and a flood of wetness down my lips, chin, neck -- these were the rewards for my feast. Seconds later I provided my own feast for the one further down, exploding into her sucking mouth with such intensity I hoped she wouldn't gag. Not even a hint of it, though, as she drank me down with low murmurs of evident delight and a voraciously swirling tongue.

Brain whirling, senses flooded from all directions by tastes, scents, sounds, touches unimagined and half-remembered, I lay prostrate as they climbed off of me. Soft whisperings and a dirty giggle drifted to me, and I stretched my ears, but the preternatural sensitivity I'd reached had been overwhelmed by intensity, and I caught nothing. I did hear footsteps receding into the distance while another set padded towards me once more.

Abruptly the blindfold was yanked free. White heat burst in front of my eyes and tears ran down my face. Darkness to light is generally rather more gradual than that. I blinked at the nude figure in front of me, and now a new sensation flooded me. Confusion.

Because I had no idea who she was.


*********************************


The theme for this month's Group Post was "I opened my eyes to discover.....". I figured everyone else would be writing about what they saw, and so I deliberately went in the other direction. Hopefully it was a worthwhile trip.

Why not see how these other fine participants handled the theme?

http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
http://100waystobeperverse.wordpress.com
http://hubmanshangout.com/
http://ronjazz.blogspot.com
http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
http://cuckold-husband-bdenied.blogspot.com

And our host while Kimberly is on hiatus, the sexy and talented Duchess: 

http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 6-18-10

(Source image: "Moscow Girl" by Igor Vasiliadis.)

Your challenge for this Friday, 6-18-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 100-300 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.

Because I'm being rather more lenient with the word count this time around, I'm adding an additional requirement this week: I want the following phrase used somewhere in your posting:

"...the Iron Curtain had well and truly fallen."

As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)

Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-11-10: "Three's Not So Crowded"

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Microfantasy Monday: "The Music of the Spheres"

She was a rare thing, had she but realized it: the concertgoer who can immerse herself in the music to such an extent that the world itself dissolves and drifts away. So many music fans can enjoy a performance, but don't flow with and become the music; somehow remaining outside themselves even as they profess to enjoy what they're hearing.

Not so she. Waves of sound washed over her, supporting her, steadying her. Bass throbbed through her bones. Synths bubbled and wailed in clarion call. The drums pounded a tribal rhythm, the guitars sizzled electric licks along her nerves. The singer's voice, warm and inviting, pushed steadily against the edges of her brainspace. She stood in place, slowly revolving, borne along on a cascade of notes, body flickering in the rainbows from the klieg lights.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. "My god," came a voice, soft, male. "I've never seen anyone so...involved with the music. Can I dance with you?"

She nodded slowly, eyes shut hard. Hands went to her waist, guiding her, holding her firmly. Sharp tang of sweat as he pressed close. Heat baked along her body from where he melded against her. Liquid fire at her center as the music swirled, dissolved, recoalesced into another song. She threw her head back and sighed softly.

He pressed her close, and they moved together. He pressed her close, and they rode along the waves of sound. Suddenly she wanted more, wanted him to feel what she felt. She opened her eyes, opened her mouth, opened herself to him. Her hips thrust against him and she raised a leg and hooked it over his ass. Her arms tightened. Her gaze locked with his. Alarmed, he tried to pull back, but she held him tightly, her eyes blazing, the slow pulse of her hips in time with the music. His mouth opened -- to say something, he didn't know what -- and she captured it with a kiss.

She tasted like electricity, like flame and wind, like clouds. A nova burst behind his forehead and abruptly his perception raced away in every direction. He felt himself shooting deliriously outwards, expanding, the music flooding his senses. The rhythm changed, shifted; low and insistent now, sinister but sacred, profane and ecstatic. Glittering notes swept past, visible now to him, a field of stars spangled in every direction. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. His hips thudded against hers and there was no way she could avoid feeling his excitement. He'd thought she was something, but this....nothing like this. His brain whirled. His ears roared, overwhelmed by the flood, the cascades.

She reached down between them, hitched her skirt up, grasped his cock -- what the hell? His jeans were open and he was bare to her touch. Raising her leg a bit more, she shifted closer and suddenly they were sleekly, deeply coupled. She moaned and began that thudding again, hips rocking against him. The vocalist wailed, promising perdition and brimstone. The bass vibrated up and down their forms. He grabbed frantically at her back, murmuring agonized endearments into her mouth. Bodies pressed close on all sides, the music enfolding, dark and secret and promising.

A flaring, a joining, a breaking, and he stiffened, she with him, as his essence roared out of him, invading her, flooding her. She sighed and bowed her head, dropping off of him and away from him. He hastily tucked himself back in and stood panting, shocked, as she was whirled away by the crowd. In another moment she was lost to view, lost to herself, lost to the music again. The audience sighed in approval, the music rose, and she was borne away once more on waves of melody.



Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. If you want to know who else is playing this week, go visit her!

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 6-11-10

(Source image: "Vouyeurs" by Martin Toyé).

Your challenge for this Friday, 6-11-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of precisely 113 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.

As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)

Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-4-10: "Craving the Spotlight"

(Source image: "Spotlight" by Marty Provost.)

The spotlight lit her in stark bas-relief. Her face, eyes closed, was set in stone, but the rest of her body was alive. Her breasts, marble-tipped, trembled. Her thighs quivered. Her pussy glistened.

Steadily, steadily, her intensity built. Her hands stiffened on her knees; her brow furrowed; her lips were compressed. Abruptly, she shrieked as her excitement fountained over the first two rows of the audience.

“And there you have it, folks,” the announcer shouted. “A true hands-free orgasm!”

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of exactly 81 words. Nobody's checking word counts, but you're only cheating yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're doing it to earn a spanking (in which case, see me after class).

The following people are participating this week. Why not go check out their take on this FFF?

Gray:  http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Spring Flower:  http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com
Jonsbabydoll:  http://thebloggingslave.com
Soren:  http://amorousdays.blogspot.com
Lexi:  http://lex-ploits.blogspot.com
Katia:  http://katiaswritings.blogspot.com
Netsfan44:  http://netsfan44eroticstories.blogspot.com
Cate:  http://categoesdown.com
Max:  http://mystic-satyr.blogspot.com
Luna Mauvaise:  http://lunamauvaise.blogspot.com
Diable Incarne:  http://conningdevil.blogspot.com

Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you've any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in future, send them my way. 

-- PB

"Forsaking All Others"

Susan had thought that nothing could spoil this, her perfect day, until she turned her head during the fundraiser dance and saw him.

She waved frantically to one of her bridesmaids. "How the hell did Mark get here?" she hissed. "I know I didn't fucking invite him."

Alexa shrugged, looking equally baffled. "Ask Tony?" she suggested. More than a little miffed, Susan tried just that, waving to get her new husband's attention, but he was busy dancing with one of the tiny little aunts he seemed to have in abundance. Susan's flailings were going unnoticed.

The DJ boomed, "Come on, folks, we've only had thirty participants so far for the fundraiser dance! Let's raise some more money for the newlyweds, huh? A ten dollar contribution gets you a dance with the lovely bride or the blushing groom! I want to see all you folks digging deep to get these two some extra spending money for their honeymoon!"

Jen panicked as she saw Mark reach inside his suit and withdraw a slim wallet. Approaching Sara, who was taking the contributions, he spoke with her briefly. Sara threw a panicked look at Susan, who made more frantic motions: "No! Stall him! Give him some excuse, I don't care!" Then she saw Sara's eyes bug out as Mark handed her a folded bill. He turned and started walking towards her.

Susan shut her eyes briefly, lips moving in a silent prayer: "Lord, please help me get through a short dance with my psychotic ex-boyfriend," and then put on her best smile. She was already framing the words, "Why, Mark, what a surprise!" But to her astonishment, Mark walked right past her to where Tony was dancing with his aunt, and tapped the little woman on the shoulder.

"I'm cutting in," he said calmly.

Susan's mouth fell open as her ex-boyfriend put one arm around her husband's waist and drew him close, then began twirling him about the dance floor to the strains of Prince's "When Doves Cry". She rushed over to Sara. "What the hell, Sar?" she half-wailed. "Why didn't you find some excuse to get rid of him?"

Sara looked as stunned as Susan felt. "Because he gave me this," she whispered. She held up a five-thousand-dollar bill. "What was I supposed to say?"


Across the dance floor, Tony wasn't sure what was making his head spin more -- the whirlings and twirlings as Mark spun him about, or the fact that he was dancing with his wife's ex-boyfriend. "Um, not that I don't appreciate the contribution, man," he said, "but really, how come you're not dancing with Sue?"

Mark looked down for a second and smiled grimly, then looked back at Tony. "Well, two reasons, really," he said. "First off, 'cause she and I didn't really end on good terms -- I'm sure you know that." Tony nodded. "Then you know she wouldn't really want to dance with me on this, her perfect day." The words were tinged with bitterness, and Tony nodded again. "But you're still wondering why the dance at all, if that's the case." Tony nodded a third time.

Mark tightened his arm around Tony's waist. "Well, that's the other reason," he said quietly, his voice low, taut with strain. His lips brushed against Tony's neck as he leaned close and whispered, "Because it wasn't her I wanted to dance with."

Abruptly Tony was aware of three things: firstly, that his heart was pounding far beyond any reason caused by a simple dance; secondly, that Mark was pressing very, very close to him, and the ridge in Mark's trousers wasn't just a roll of quarters in his pocket; and thirdly, that (oh my God) he was rapidly becoming as hard as Mark was. His cock throbbed. His breath came sharp and fast. His tongue tangled as he fought for words.

In the next second Mark's eyes went wide. One of their gyrations had obviously communicated Tony's excitement to him as well. "Well, well, well," he murmured, and thrust his hips forward slowly, deliberately, now grinding against Tony to the pounding rhythm of the music. Tony groaned as each pulsing stroke of Mark's crotch against his sent bright spears of delicious friction radiating outward, but Mark wouldn't pull away. "How come I never noticed this when you were dating?"


"This" was rapidly becoming unmanageable. Tony gulped and broke free from Mark, pushing him back till they were no longer pressed so tightly together, somehow keeping to the song's rhythm. He looked around rapidly but aside from Susan (who was shooting dagger looks at him) no one else seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.


Mark leaned in close once more. "Meet me in the bathrooms in five," he said quietly. And stepped away, leaving Tony's body full of adrenaline and his head full of confusion. He rearranged things in a hurry, till his obvious excitement was less apparent to every onlooker.

"Annnnnnnnnnnd that's the end of the fundraiser dance!" the DJ shouted cheerfully. Tony, seeing Susan approaching with murder in her eyes, hoped it wasn't the end of his new marriage as well.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 6-4-10

(Source image: "Spotlight" by Marty Provost.)

Your challenge for this Friday, 6-4-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of precisely 81 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.

As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)

Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.

-- PB