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Monday, February 28, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 3-4-11

(Image source: "Schlampenfieber" by Ben Marcato; all websites I have found for Ben are currently down)

Enormous thanks are due to Lexi, who stepped in while I was traveling last week and hosted an awesome FFF. I owe you one, Lexi. Thanks!

Your challenge for this Friday, 3-4-11, is to use the picture above to write a flash fiction of 40-70 words. Since everyone seems to be enjoying the required phrases, please use this phrase in your submission:

"...a sharp crack..."

As usual, nobody's checking word counts, or the key phrase, 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 with last week, I am no longer collecting the participants list, so you no longer need to notify me by email or leaving a comment here if you're planning on playing along on Friday. Instead, once you've posted your Friday entry, just drop by here to see my own Friday post (which will be scheduled for 12:01 AM on Friday morning) and leave your link using the widget in the body of the post. Then everybody will know you're playing along and they'll come leave nice comments on your entry.


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. That Flash Fiction Friday FAQ is also the link you should visit if you're new to the whole FFF thing and have questions. I want everybody to enjoy this, after all.


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

Sunday, February 27, 2011

eLust #23

[[My recent entry "Flying the Friendly Skies" was chosen as one of this edition's top three posts! I'm honored. Thanks to the judges who thought it was hot stuff! I hope the rest of you who are dropping by will enjoy what you find here.]]

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

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #24? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Roadmaps of Consent - I fucking love consent. I love safewords. I can be much more cruel, and push much harder, if I trust my partner to tell me when I go too far.

Staying Safe - One cock, from one man, missing one condom, ultimately led to my brother’s death. And that sucks.

Flying the Friendly Skies - One button on her sweater was undone, there was a rip in her hose, scratches on her boots, and her hair was carelessly pinned back with stray wisps of hair escaping. There was a curious flavor of soiling about her, something a bit dirty and unkempt.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Labels and my thoughts... - In the past year and a half I have gone from being someone that was lost, without identity that fit, rattling around inside myself to someone that has names for what they are.

~ e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly



See also: Pleasurists #116 and #117 for all your sex toy review needs

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

5 Kinky Toys from the Dollar Store

Alive in my Skin

Dacryphilia

Digitalized for Posterity

Eroti...ca

filthy...

He ripped a string of orgasms from me, and then ramped it up

Manual Dexterity

Nadia's Surprise

Orgasms, Spoons Rests, and Fishnets! (The Play Party)

Punishment, humiliation and bondage

Schoolgirl in Saturday Detention

Steeling The Show

Water torture

Erotic Writing

A Little Night Music

Afternoon darkness

Crisp White Linens

dancing with (& then kinkily fucking) the dj

In the Mirror

Lope

Morning Sex

My First Anal Sex

September 1935

Shutter

Schoolgirl Part 1

Teenage Bukkake

Transition

You're Gonna Keep My Soul

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Doggie Kind of Love

Ashamed?! Are You Kidding Me?

Giggles, Groans and Panting

I Can Imagine How You Feel

Sex As Love

6 Moves Men Need to Be Sex Gods in the Bedroom

Terminology Fundamentalism

The COME HITHER QUIVER -or- How To Squirt

This Love

What I Want

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Kink Network Announces the Opening of Their Adult Blog Host Kinky-Blogging.com

Porn, degradation, and Khan Tusion

Women With Two Vaginas

Kink, virginity and big-tittied whores

Monday, February 21, 2011

No FFF this week

No FFF this week, folks. Out of town on last-minute biz trip. No access to my stash of pix etc. at home. Posting this from my phone. Will make it up to you next week.

-- pb

Friday, February 18, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday 2-18-11: "...And When She Falleth"

(Image source unknown, but it just begs to be called "Precipice". Photo this week provided by Lexi.)


She stood on the edge, looking down into emptiness. The wind sliced her to the bone, carved her up in shivering chunks and left her spread over the landscape.

Such a long way to fall. She tightened her hold on identity, grasping for the shreds of sanity that he'd left her. She tilted her head, staring down still, poised on the precipice of her own making....

….and fell.

Fell screaming, calling out his name, body dissolving in a rush and whirl of light and sound and heat. Plummeted, still calling his name as she sundered and burst from within.

Afterward, she lay clasped in his embrace, listening to thunder within. Silent tears trickled forth unfelt.

“I've never seen you let go like that,” he whispered. “I feel humbled.”

She rolled into him, clutching him tighter. “Hold me,” was her only answer.


Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 115-148 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...poised on the precipice..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

This pic was dark and turbulent but it was nevertheless arresting enough to practically leap off the screen at me when Lexi sent it my way. There was really no other possible choice for this particular week.

I made a conscious effort to take the darkness shown here and spin it another way. One of my ex-lovers used to keep very tight control over herself when we were making love; she would enjoy it, but would never really let go enough to fully experience the pleasure we were creating. Then one day she really did let go, and damn near cracked a window with her shriek of ecstasy when I sent her over the edge with mouth, fingers and tongue. The aftermath transpired a bit like this story -- me, astonished and humbled by the power of her release, and she almost crying with the relief of tension and deliberate release of control. There were many more orgasms after that one, but none that quite matched that one exquisite moment. Even now, I remember it (and her) fondly.

Please note that this week, as with the last couple weeks, I am trying something different with the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. We'll see how this works out.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.



Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. Thanks to Lexi for providing this week's (plus a few others which I may use later on).

-- PB

Monday, February 14, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 2-18-11

(Image source unknown, but was titled "Precipice". Photo this week provided by Lexi.)

Your challenge for this Friday, 2-18-11, is to use the picture above to write a flash fiction of 115-148 words. Since everyone seems to be enjoying the required phrases, please use this phrase in your submission:

"...poised on the precipice..."

As usual, nobody's checking word counts, or the key phrase, 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 with last week, I am no longer collecting the participants list, so you no longer need to notify me by email or leaving a comment here if you're planning on playing along on Friday. Instead, once you've posted your Friday entry, just drop by here to see my own Friday post (which will be scheduled for 12:01 AM on Friday morning) and leave your link using the widget in the body of the post. Then everybody will know you're playing along and they'll come leave nice comments on your entry.

Please see last week's entry for an example of how it works. Any questions, let me know.

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. That Flash Fiction Friday FAQ is also the link you should visit if you're new to the whole FFF thing and have questions. I want everybody to enjoy this, after all.


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. Thanks to Lexi for this week's photo!

 -- PB

Friday, February 11, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday 2-11-11: "Know Thyself"

(Source image: "Searching Narciso" by Martin Toyé)

Stretch, flex, lift, relax. Curve of hip, sheen of sweat, arch of deltoid. Working out in front of the mirror was the best motivator he'd ever had. Its glass eye showed every flaw, every ounce of fat, every wasted movement. It drove him ever onward along the road to physical perfection.

Always he fell short, though. What he saw in the silvered glass was always a pale reflection of his mind's eye image. Something...something was missing.

Frustrated, he stretched out a hand toward his mirror image, resting it on the glass. And jumped in shock as his palm met warm, yielding flesh.

His heart raced...and his cock twitched. He saw his double's do the same, and smiled a slow smile.

Time to really work out.


Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 107-127 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...a pale reflection..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

I seem to have a relentless urge to turn these into fantasy-themed works. Mythology, fairy tales, elementals, magic and mystery...yeah, I do telegraph my love of fantastic fiction JUST a little bit. I can't help it.

The title of the photo may have been "Searching Narciso" but I didn't get the sense that the subject was idolizing himself. Rather, it seemed to me that he was working out in front of a mirror because (like a camera) a mirror is very good at forcing all of your flaws into the open, do what you will to try and hide them. What better way to keep yourself on the straight and narrow, to keep the workout intensity up? When every little jiggle of fat is magnified by that reflection, you want even more to get rid of it.

Then I looked at the way he was caressing the thigh of the reflection. It looked like fascination to me. I imagine most of us would be pretty fascinated if our reflection suddenly stood before us in the flesh, too. Maybe you'd be horrified. Maybe you'd be freaked out. Or maybe, like the fellow in this tale, you'd be turned on. Maybe he's a little bi-curious and he wants to experiment a bit with somebody who knows his pleasures better than anyone else.

Regardless, wouldn't that be a great workout? Burning calories was never so much fun.

Please note that this week (as with last week) I am trying something different with the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. We'll see how this works out.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.

[[NOTE: Due to a screwup in the automatic posting, this didn't post until past 8 AM this morning. That isn't what I intended so I'm going ahead and adding links below for those I know are playing. If you're not on the list, go ahead and add yourself.]]



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

-- PB

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Flying the Friendly Skies

[[NOTE: Thanks to all who are stopping by via links from eLust! I hope you like what you see here.]]

My job requires me to travel quite a bit, so I've gotten very familiar indeed with the routines and patterns of airline flight. I know which airlines charge the least for baggage, which ones are the most likely to depart on time, which ones still actually offer snacks during flight, and which ones (in my experience) have the prettiest flight attendants.

That last is something I can't help noticing. Being a typical guy, I'm always keeping an eye out for beauty in all its female forms, and so when I sit down in first class I get a pretty good look at the flight attendants when they go strolling by on those lovely legs. And I make mental notes about which ones are the prettiest, and compose little fantasies about the most attractive of 'em, and shake my head at my own folly.

Just lately I've been flying Continental a lot. I don't know what their flightcrew schedules are overall -- that, like everything else in the airline world, depends largely upon seniority -- but at least one of the crews must have a schedule similar to the one that's been sending me from city to city of late, because recently I actually saw the same flight attendant on more than one of my flights. Once on a flight from Columbus to Detroit; once on a Los Angeles - Boston hop; and finally on a long overseas jaunt from Atlanta to London.

That had never happened to me before and it would have been enough for me to take notice even if she hadn't been outside the usual norm for flight attendants. To start with, she was tiny -- just shy of five feet tall, if I'm any judge. She wore a scarf loosely around her throat, a sweater/skirt combination, and knee-high boots. More to the point, she didn't have the crisp perfection in her appearance that so many flight crews do. One button on her sweater was undone, there was a rip in her hose, scratches on her boots, and her hair was carelessly pinned back with stray wisps of hair escaping. There was a curious flavor of soiling about her, something a bit dirty and unkempt.

This normally turns me off (I like my women to take pride in themselves) but something about this woman captured my attention. She seemed completely unaware of my gaze, going about her tasks with a kind of indolence that reflected her appearance. But she was obviously very familiar with her body and its uses; she moved with lazy hipshot grace, no wasted energy, her movements close and economical. It struck me that she was a bit like the lions you see at the zoo. They may appear bored and indifferent, and lie happily in the dust of their enclosures, but they could by-God tear your head off if it ever struck them to do so.

Anyhow, on the third flight I finally struck up a conversation with her. Her name, it turned out, was Amanda, and conversationally I found little to change my initial opinion of her. Not terribly smart, not particularly interested in endearing herself to me, just passing the time, really, as the hours wound by. We'd pass a couple of minutes when she passed by, and then she'd beg off (flight attendants on 747s do, after all, have a lot of passengers to watch over). I'd watch her ass working prettily under that skirt, sturdy legs in those knee-high boots clocking down the aisle, and shake my head a bit at the waste.

The hour was growing late and most of the other passengers had dropped off to sleep. I, on the other hand, have trouble sleeping even in spacious first-class seats, so I was idly paging through a book, not really getting much from it, and wishing for something to relieve the boredom. At that, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Amanda.

" 'Scuse me," she said, wiping a hand on her skirt and leaving a smudge. "I hate to ask you this, but you've been nice to me, so I thought, well, it can't hurt...."

She trailed off, staring at me. I raised an eyebrow. "Ask me what?"

"Well, I'm having some trouble with this gadget in one of the bathrooms. It's s'posed to help the air circulate but it's giving me this funny smell, like something's frying."

"Frying? And you haven't told the pilots?"

"Yeah, I did, keep your shirt on. They said their systems don't detect anything wrong back there. Asked me to take a look, and I did, but I can't see nothing wrong. You look good with your hands -- could you maybe take a look and see if you see anything?"

I sighed, a bit annoyed. Even in my spare time it seemed people were coming to me for tech support. "Good with my hands, okay. Yeah, sure, I'll see what I can do."

I followed her past the rows of dead-to-the-world passengers, past the galley to the restroom on the left side. "This is the one?" I inquired, and she nodded. I knocked -- no one inside -- and opened up. Nothing remarkable that I could see, so I stepped inside, and she followed me in. Before I could raise an eyebrow at that, she had closed the door and locked it.

A 747 has a bigger bathroom than, say, a small regional jet, but they still aren't all that big. There wasn't a lot of room and she was in pretty close quarters with me. I opened my mouth to say something -- what, I'm not sure -- and she put a finger against my lips. "I saw the way you were lookin at me," she said. "If we gotta talk about it, it's no good. I guess you know there isn't any problem here in the bathroom, other than the one I've got."

Dry-mouthed, I managed to croak out, "And what problem is that, pray tell?"

She gave a little laugh and her hands began going to work on my shirt, unbuttoning it swiftly. "God, can't you tell? I haven't been fucked in almost a day. I'm so horny I can't stand it."

She stopped briefly in the act of opening my fly. "You can do something about that, right? I mean, you think I'm hot, right?"

"Hot" maybe wasn't the right word, I thought as I stared at her. This little minx wasn't at all my kind of woman. But suddenly I wanted to grab at this one. I wanted to get my hands dirty, to press against that body and see if it was as ripe and soft as the bulging sweater and straining skirt made it look. Wanted to grab hold and spread her, to take her bending over the sink. Fuck, yes, I could do something about her problem.

And so I answered by yanking her sweater and shirt up to her neck. Another woman might have cooed with delight, or giggled; she did neither, simply nodding her head, her hands going back to work on my fly. She wriggled a bit against me, probably with the idea of getting me up, but stopped that as she realized I was already quite ready. She began stroking me and made a small sound of approval, then with a practiced motion, dropped my slacks around my ankles. She leaned forward and without any preliminaries began running her tongue along the ridge in my boxer briefs. I groaned a bit, and wound my fingers into her curly hair. My other hand roamed down her back till it found the clasp on her bra, and fumbled there a moment before I wrestled that free and her tits spilled out into my hands.

Oh, delightful. Warm and soft, surprisingly big for her little size. She had enormous cherry-red nipples which I delighted in flicking with my thumbs. She liked that, and pressed them harder against my clutching hands, moaning, as she kept stroking my cock. Without warning she darted a hand inside my briefs to grasp and fondle me. Talented fingers, fitting themselves to me, curving along my length and drawing me free, the other hand slipping my briefs down to my ankles to join my puddled slacks.

She stroked me a bit more and I leaned back, enjoying the attention, still fondling her breasts, rubbing the nipples in circular motions with my palms, licking a finger to draw circles around the aureoles, rubbing them against my shirt. She sighed. "Knew you were the one to take care of this," she said, and leaned forward, pressing her tits against me, nibbling on my neck, licking and sucking.

Since I couldn't fondle her tits with her pressed against me like this, I chose to grab her ass and work that tight skirt up to her waist. I had to do some creative rearranging -- she really was about a size too large for a skirt this small -- but finally I had the globes of her ass in double handfuls. Warm, yielding flesh met my questing grasp. She may have been wearing stockings, but they weren't pantyhose, because there was nothing under that skirt but her.

She giggled at my look of shock. "Isn't company regulations," she said, and went back to licking my throat, her hands still stroking my cock deftly, surely. "But I don't think you mind much, do ya?"

"No indeed," I murmured. I worked one hand around to the front and found another surprise. She was shaved as smooth as a marble table. I do like a woman who shaves, or at least trims neatly. There's less interference with tangling and it's easier to slip inside, as I did now. My fingers found wetness and heat beyond compare -- fuck me, she hadn't been lying about being horny and ready to go -- and abruptly I lost my remaining grasp on propriety and decorum.

Spinning her around, I bent her over the sink. She assumed the position without a word of complaint, waggling her ass at me. "Oooo," she said now in a little-girl voice. "You going to give me what I need?" She reached back to finger herself, her other hand caressing her hanging tits. "God, I'm so ready. Come on, man, show me what you've got."

Well, far be it from me to deny a lady what she wants. I dropped one hand on her ass, squeezing, lifting, grasping tightly. I fought one foot free of my piled clothes and used it to knock her legs further apart. Stepping closer, I probed with my cock between her legs, rubbing against her slit. More wetness splashed over me and I moaned, a guttural sound. I lifted her and spread her more, pressing upward, pressing inward.

Tight. God damn, she was tight. I could barely fight my head past the gripping suction of her lips. She was wetter than a Slip-and-Slide and it was a good thing, because as I pushed forward she enveloped me like a custom-made driving glove. I had to fight for every inch, wriggling and pushing, she emitting small moans of delight, until I finally bottomed out inside her. I stopped a moment, feeling her clenching around me. I reached around with both hands, grabbing her tits, fondling and squeezing. She waggled that ass against me again and I felt rippling walls of suction around my cock. God, it felt incredible.

I pulled back a little bit and I clearly heard wet sucking sounds as her cunt released me oh-so-slowly. Now that she had me, she obviously didn't want to let me go. Well, that was fine with me. I drew back a bit more, marveling at the sight of my cock emerging from her tight tunnel, coated with her shiny excitement, red with my own heat. Then I pressed home again, not thrusting exactly but sort of undulating my cock forward and in again. She threw back her head and gasped "Oh, fuck me, that's good," and I couldn't agree more.

A few more in-and-outs and she had either gotten wetter still or her cunt had found a different way of accomodating me. I was now sliding effortlessly in and out; she was still tight as hell, still gripping me fiercely, but it wasn't a struggle to thrust forward any more. No, her pussy was now taking everything I had to offer, begging for more, welcoming each invasive strike. Letting go of her tits (her nipples were so hard now they could have cut glass) and grabbing her ass, I started using it as a fulcrum, rocking and grinding deeper into her with each thrust, really starting to pound her in earnest now. The gentle smack of flesh on flesh as my balls slapped against her wet cunt, the gasps and moans from her that were now ratcheting up in intensity, the ringing clap as my hand fell on her ass -- these were music to my ears.

And to hers. Her mouth was open again, spilling a stream of obscenities. In a candy-sweet voice she begged me to fuck her harder, to do her like the naughty girl she was, to pound her little pussy till she was too sore to walk. "Do you like it? Do you like my little pussy?" she gasped. "Do you like the way your flight attendant's taking your big cock up her tight little cunt?" Moaning, she threw her head back again. "Oh yeah, pound me good, baby." With every thrust I made into her she pushed back harder, moaning even louder.

I put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. I could feel her giggling but she stifled her moans a bit, though her body was still busy as hell, swaying and grinding against my crotch, getting my dick as deep into her as she could. I felt her shiver and tense and suddenly there was a pattering sound and I felt warmth running down my legs. Apparently she was a squirter. I felt her cunt clutching me even harder, massaging my cock expertly, and I leaned forward, pressing her down on the sink, battering into her. I felt my balls boiling and growled low into her ear, "Dirty girl indeed. How many guys have you done this to? How many strangers have you fucked in the bathroom like this?"

"Dozens," she gasped through my hand. "Anyone who's willing. I can't help it. I gotta have it regular-like, or I'll go outta my mind." She felt me twitch and a low laugh escaped past my fingers. "Ooo, that turns you on, doesn't it? You like pounding your little flight attendant slut."

Damn it, she was right. That soiled, unkempt feeling was back and stronger than ever, but I didn't care. I was embracing it. Rolling in the dirt with her, getting filthy with her sweat and her juices, fucking this total stranger in the bathroom of a 747 while outside any passengers who were still awake could have no doubt what was going on from all the thumping and rocking and squealing. Well, so be it. All I knew was that her cunt was so tight and hot and wet, her body so lush and active, that I was going to shoot off very soon now. I brought my hand down in a sharp slap on her ass, the crack echoing, and she howled delight past my still-restraining other hand. She raised a leg and propped it against the wall, giving me more access, spreading herself further as I plundered and plowed her. Her exhortations had now become a steady low chant: "yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes" as I thrust harder and harder into her.

Grunting and gasping, I grabbed her ass with both hands and clutched it hard enough to leave bruises as I spent myself like a shooting star, hosing her pussy down with what felt like a gallon of cum. I thrust as far into her as I could, lifting her all the way off the ground. She spread her hands to brace herself, now laughing loudly, openly, as I struggled to catch my breath and let her sag back downward, still impaled on my softening cock.

She lifted up and off of me and turned to face me, our mingled fluids now positively pouring down her legs. "Oh yeah," she sighed happily. "I needed that." She leaned back against the sink, spreading her legs, letting her head fall back on her shoulders, her throat working as her pulse hammered its way down into a reasonable range again.

Just looking at her was enough to arrest my softening. God, she was a stunning sight. Sweater and skirt still yanked up, skin shining with sweat, her tits capped with nipples that were still rock hard. Her cunt shone like a promise as she idly reached a hand down to play with her clit some more. She shuddered and moaned again, deep in her throat.

I couldn't stand it. I had to have her again. I grabbed her by the ass and lifted her up, tightening my PC muscles to get my cock pointing in just the right direction. She had time only for a surprised "What..." before I drove up and into her again, and her mouth went wide with shock and pleasure. Muttering "aw yeah, aw yeah, aw yeahh" in time with my strokes, she wrapped both legs around my ass and hung on as I started to pound her again, not caring who she'd been with, not caring if we were heard anymore, only reaching for that filth, embracing it, getting dirty with this slut of a flight attendant who was so very fucking horny that she couldn't do without it.

Maybe I wasn't Mr. Right, I thought hazily as I banged her against the wall, her shrieks ringing in my ears, my legs burning, my cock as hard as it had ever been. But damn if it wasn't pretty fucking good to be Mr. Right Now for a change.

[[Director's Commentary: Regrettably, this is just fiction. I did run into the same flight attendant on three different flights in the space of a month, but there was no bathroom interlude like this. But I couldn't help wondering whether she looked untidy and unkempt because she really didn't care about her appearance, or because she really was the lioness type and had more earthy urges to concern her. Plus she looked really really good in those boots and that skirt. The last flight was weeks ago, but I kept thinking about her at odd times, and finally I wrote this over the course of a half hour, unedited, to give it the same raw, dirty feeling I sensed from her when I saw her.

It also goes without saying that I would never ever fuck a total stranger without protection. I don't much like condoms, but they're an absolute necessity. Especially if the girl's as big a slut as the one in this tale. And I mean that with all due respect. Nothing wrong with a slut who loves it and goes after it anywhere she can find it.]]

-- PB

Monday, February 7, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 2-11-11

(Source image: "Searching Narciso" by Martin Toyé)

Your challenge for this Friday, 2-11-11, is to use the picture above to write a flash fiction of 107-127 words. Since everyone seems to be enjoying the required phrases, please use this phrase in your submission:

"...a pale reflection..."

As usual, nobody's checking word counts, or the key phrase, 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 with last week, I am no longer collecting the participants list, so you no longer need to notify me by email or leaving a comment here if you're planning on playing along on Friday. Instead, once you've posted your Friday entry, just drop by here to see my own Friday post (which will be scheduled for 12:01 AM on Friday morning) and leave your link using the widget in the body of the post. Then everybody will know you're playing along and they'll come leave nice comments on your entry.

Please see this entry for an example of how it works. Any questions, let me know.

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. That Flash Fiction Friday FAQ is also the link you should visit if you're new to the whole FFF thing and have questions. I want everybody to enjoy this, after all.


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

Friday, February 4, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday 2-4-11: "Forty-Love"

(Source image: Playboy Playmates Karissa and Kristina Shannon)


“Forty-love!” I called, as the ball bounced just out of reach. They glanced at each other, expressions unreadable. Something passed between them, unspoken.

Ready for the next serve, I tossed the ball up, ready to smash...and whiffed air. The ball bounced away, mockingly.

Karissa and Kristina were stripping. They stood there with saucy smiles, breasts bared, shirts discarded, sliding tiny skirts down to drop to the clay, a double dose of distraction.

“We propose a new game,” Kristina called. “Nude. Winner takes all.”

“Dude,” my partner said under his breath. “How often does an opportunity like this happen?”

I glanced back at the girls. “You're on,” I answered.

Three 6-0 sets later, they approached, panting, to claim their reward. “Winner takes all” had never sounded so sweet.


Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 68-134 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...a double dose..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

I wanted something light and fun this week. Accordingly, I selected a pic which had a warm friendly feeling to it, but had endless potential for mischief (come on, just look at the expressions on their faces). You could tell these two were up to something even if they weren't nekkid.

Naked tennis would be a lot of fun, I think, but like the fellas in the story, I'd be too busy watching the lovely ladies in motion to pay any attention to the fuzzy yellow sphere. I'm sure I'd lose just as handily as they. Now the only question is, what kind of reward would the ladies want? I leave that as an exercise for the reader.

Please note that this week I am trying something different with the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. We'll see how this works out.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who are joining in this week!



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

-- PB