Found Wanting

Another day, another morning waking up with an erection and nothing useful to do with it.  Stuck with a ridge in his jeans, uncomfortable friction, rasping cloth against sensitive flesh already oversensitized from too many times jerking off.  Not for the first time he cursed his demonically high drive, particularly when there were no handy targets to vent it on.

His mind drifted, slipped sideways, came to rest on her (as it usually did in times like these).  Her impish smile, the way she bit her lip when she was aroused, the breathy little-girl voice she did so well.  He shifted uncomfortably, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans.  This wasn't helping.  It didn't help to think of the feel of her silky hair, the taste of her tongue, the scent of her pussy when she was as turned on as he, the way she shrieked like a firebell when she came hard.  It didn't help at all to remember the velvety feel of her slick tunnel, the way she fitted herself to him with a happy sigh, the way she hooked her legs over his shoulders and crossed her ankles behind his head.  It was making things not the slightest bit better to recall the way she bounced up and down in his lap, begging him to play with her tits while he fucked her, to remember the insane heat of her body against his, the way she splashed against his crotch, fountaining out around and against him while he rocked deeper and deeper within.

Down went his jeans again, his boxer briefs along with them.  Rigid, commanding, standing tall, he took himself in hand and began to stroke, already breathing hard, hips bumping upward on the downbeat. Hazily, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this would only be the first of many, many times. Knew she would be dancing in and out of his thoughts for the entire day, drifting from dream to dazed acceptance of reality, but still achingly hard and ready for another go. Knew he'd be coming up with more scenarios, more fantasies, even as he sprayed hot cum up onto his own shoulder and chest. Knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he had to take yet another break, to try doggedly to tame the beast, to get a few minutes' respite from the aching, throbbing hardness that returned any time he dared even think her name.

He wondered when he'd see her again, and how long it would take before she was screaming his name that time. He wondered who was sharing her bed right now, and if they had a clue how lucky they were. He wondered why she affected him like this, but as always found any explanation wanting. She just....was. Hooked on a feeling, addicted to her body, enjoying it to the hilt even as he hated the fact that he never had a moment's peace.

Absently, he wiped the cum off his chest, shoulders, stomach, groin. Tossed it into the nearby wastebasket nearly full of crumpled paper towels -- it'd be time to empty that again soon. He sighed, and regarded his already-twitching cock as it swelled, lengthened, thickened again, pointing at him in gleeful, hungry joy.

He got up and padded toward the bathroom, kicking the tangled clothing free of his ankles as he went. Maybe an icy shower would help. But he guessed it probably wouldn't.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 5-18-12: "Damn the Consequences"

(Image source: "On the Stairs" by Samantha Wolov)

She was writhing, moaning, underneath me. Her skin was superheated, the lace on her bra cups rough and scratchy against my chest. Her lips were hungry, her restless hands everywhere on my body. She yanked at my jeans; I tore her underwear aside, fumbling, desperate. My fingers sank deep into her with one exploratory push, immediately soaked. She gasped and cooed against my neck, wrapping her hand around me, squeezing, tugging me closer.

I slid deep with one effortless thrust and she wrapped her legs around me. The red haze descended and I started pounding away at her, her shrieks and yelps already rising up the scale.

“Take me upstairs,” she'd said. We hadn't even made it halfway.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 68-122 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...rough and scratchy..."

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:

Some of the best sex I've ever had in my life has been when my partner and I just couldn't wait to have each other. Standing against the wall, bent over a couch, just inside the front door or (as in one particularly memorable occasion) halfway up the stairs. Not a fantasy, this one, but drawn from life. It was fucking incredible (or perhaps I should say incredible fucking).

If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. 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. Your cooperation is appreciated.

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. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 8-19-11: "Delicious"

(Image this week provided by Advizor; original source and title unknown)

"Sorry about the eggs. I'm really a bit rubbish at cooking."

"Mm. I have had more palatable breakfasts."

Curls of smoke drifted up from her cigarette as she gestured, lazily. "Mind you, that could be because this isn't what I wanted for breakfast."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you did want....?"

She rolled her eyes so hard they spun round in the sockets. "You, you idiot."

I blushed like a schoolgirl, but managed to squeak out, "So, um, why don't we get you what you really wanted?"

"Why indeed?" she purred.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 69-99 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...curls of [noun]..."

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:


Try as I might, I couldn't think of any other reason these two might be still nude or half-nude at the table unless they were so keen to get back to the bedroom that they hadn't bothered to dress. There is a rather pensive look on the face of the one on the right, but I consciously chose to ignore that, preferring to go with the "barely contained lust" approach. Besides, I've written too much lately that's been dark and/or turbulent and/or depressing and/or pensive. Rather have something cheerful.

This is, I think, the first thing I've posted here where I'm actually writing from the female perspective. I just can't think of the "I" in a story and have it be a female and make it seem right. Hopefully I did all right with this one. 

If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. 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. Your cooperation is appreciated.

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 Advizor for this week's photo!

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-10-11: "Mercury Rising"

(Source image: "Daddy Always Tells Me to Keep Cool" by Merlin Enabnit)

Never had there been a summer like it. Hundred-degree temps every day, not a cloud to cut the haze, the sun's rays remorseless, a hammerblow unrelenting.

I remember it so well, how we sought privacy but found nothing better than an icehouse. She sat on a block, her excitement mingling with melted water, trickling down her thighs and calves. I bore her back, kissing, licking droplets of sweat from the hollow of her throat. She moaned and shuddered when I slid two fingers into her under that summer skirt.

She scooted to the edge of the block, hiking up the skirt. And I slid deep, and pumped slow and steady, till my own cum gushed into her, trickling out to freeze in accusatory white drips on the block.

Summer heat is unbearable in more ways than one.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 40-140 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...trickling down..."

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 was partially inspired by the pic and partially by Lexi's recent summer heat post, which got me all hot and horny and sweaty just reading it. I've never fucked on a block of ice, and can't imagine it would be all that much fun in reality, but I *have* experienced that unbearable summer heat which is only made worse by your lust for your partner. Some kinds of heat can only be quenched one way, and some other kinds only get fanned higher when you try to put them out. I quite like this piece, if I may be permitted a bit of self-aggrandizement. I chose to imagine the lady wearing a light summery skirt rather than the one-piece swimsuit pictured above. Ever tried to get quick access with one of those? They suck for it. Dresses or summer skirts are more fun.


The title is actually not a play on Sting's "Mercury Falling" (though I do love that album). In fact, the music I'd be more inclined to think of for this is Richard Shindell's "A Summer Wind, A Cotton Dress", though that's a lot more bittersweet than anything depicted here.

Please note that I am no longer collecting the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. 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. Your cooperation is appreciated.

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. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 6-3-11: "Tensile Strength"

(Source image submitted by Sephani Paige, source unknown)

“Oh, come now,” he goaded her. “Can't you do better than that?”

She ground her teeth in perfect fury. “You contemptible bastard,” she gritted. “I begged. I did the little-girl voice like you wanted. I called you 'daddy' for Chrissake. Now let me fucking loose!”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, that is fucking IT.”

She took a deep breath, then put her head down and strained. Consciousness dwindled down to red streaks and black dots, but – nothing...until...

The chain hit the breaking point, and it snapped with a musical “ping”.

He turned, but she was all over him. “Now you're mine,” she gasped, already yanking at his jeans.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 110-118 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...the breaking point..."

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: 

BDSM isn't really my thing, as I've mentioned, but I found this one interesting, mostly because to me, she doesn't really look all that upset, just tantalized. I played around with several approaches, but then decided on something a bit darker. I thought of the Stephen King novel "Gerald's Game" and how annoyed Jessie got when the teasing went a little too far in that one. Then I suddenly saw it another way: how would it be if, rather than getting enraged by the torment, she was just really, REALLY turned on, and desperate to get fucked? So I turned the tables a bit by having her break free and, instead of tearing his face off, fucking him until he bleeds to repay the torment. I think I like that outcome better than rage.

Please note that I am no longer collecting the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. 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. Your cooperation is appreciated.

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. Many thanks to Sephani Paige for this week's photo.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 4-29-11: "A Stolen Kiss is Sweetest"

(Source: Untitled image by Will Santillo)

God, why did I let myself be dragged into this? Liz thought. She scanned the room, looking for someone, anyone, who had two brain cells to rub together. These people are like a flock of chattering magpies. Lots of noise, not a damn thing to say. And I'm too hot and this wine is terrible and that music is crap and god, I hate this.

And then her eyes fell on Adele, and Adele turned and stared back, pinned Liz to the wall with that searing gaze, ignited her from crown to toes. And Adele smiled a long slow smile, and mouthed one word: “Bathroom”.

And Liz stumbled robotically towards the bathroom, heart hammering, breath already coming hard and fast. How does she do this to me every single time? she wondered.

And Adele followed, the lock clicking behind her. She advanced, bearing Liz back, Liz's mouth opening to accept Adele's hot tongue, feeling Adele's hands ripping her blouse open, wanting Adele's nipping teeth on her hard nipples, Adele's fingers buried in her pussy, wanting Adele, all of her.

Adele pulled back, grinning. “My lovely, lovely Liz,” she purred. “I have something for you.”

And Liz's eyes went wide as Adele opened her slacks to reveal the biggest strap-on Liz had ever seen. She shuddered, and spread her legs. “Oh yes, baby,” she moaned. “Now.”

“Right now,” Adele agreed, and thrust hard.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 120-240 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...hard and fast..."

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'm always curious about lesbian and gay relationships. I've read a lot of stuff that indicates one of the pair usually plays a dominant role, "playing the guy" if you will. Adele and Liz are my attempt to play out that kind of dynamic. I kind of wish I had more room to develop these two, and may do so later on. I picture Liz as the academic, intellectual type, possibly a scholar or an art gallery owner, overtly feminine but hiding her sexual appetite from the world. Adele I see as head of her own business firm, the kind of woman who dresses in business suits and wears her hair short, looking like something out of a Patrick Nagel print, knowing that people call her "butch" and not giving a damn about it. I imagine that she met Liz at her gallery and immediately moved in, knowing that Liz wanted someone to guide and teach her, finding to her surprise that Liz was enthusiastic and very unlike the drab personality she presented to the world.

In any case, I found this picture delightful, a moment of pure passion between two people who are obviously very much into each other. Lust? Love? Infatuation? Or just a power exchange? It seemed it could be interpreted lots of different ways. I think it's all of those, for these two. And I think it's hot as hell. I hope you enjoyed the pic and challenge this week.

Please note that I am no longer collecting the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. 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. Your cooperation is appreciated.

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. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 1-14-10: "Service with a Smile"

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

You Infuriate Me

You infuriate me. You really do.

It's unfair -- criminal, almost -- that any one woman should have a body like that. Legs that go approximately up to your chin, hips that swing like they're on ball bearings, an ass that strains the fabric of your tight jeans, breasts so perfect in their marveled rondure that poets write epics about them. Full lips, sparkling mischievous eyes, a pert nose, windblown tousled hair that begs me to wind my fingers through it. And, damn it all, you know it well, and take full advantage of it. You snap your fingers and I dance. You whistle and I come when you call, panting like a dog. Your merest touch commands obedience, even though I hate myself with every fiber of my being for being so weak.

I rage. I rage against the icy eyes that hold me captive, the slight, slight smile that makes my knees go wobbly and my brain turn to tapioca, the low sultry voice that gets me hard by reading the telephone book. I rage against the failings in my character that let you control me so easily, against my damnable lack of anything resembling willpower. I rage against my distinct lack of experience, the product of too many years spent in solitude, the fact that your amazing femininity in and of itself gives you the puppet strings you need to make me jerk and dance about in spastic twitches.

You infuriate me. Running a finger along my lips, feeling me tremble under your touch. Running your hands along my back and neck softly, fingers caressing, stroking my hair. I shiver and gulp under your touch, knowing the whole while that it's the touch of a mistress caressing her dog, helpless to resist, not even knowing if I want to when even that slight touch sends such sparks, flaming desire dancing along every nerve ending.

How many times? How many times have you tormented and teased me? How many times have I gone home with balls aching, rod straining my jeans, hoping desperately that I could get home before spilling my desire? How many times have I failed miserably, gone off hair-trigger, under your slight caresses, wet spot forming in my jeans as I buck and snap like a shrimp on a dock, my essence spraying not into your warmth, but into the cotton prison of my underwear? How many times have you looked at me with amusement dancing in those eyes, stroking the ridge in my jeans till I forgot myself and reached for you, to be met with a stinging slap that crossed my eyes and rang carillon bells in my head?

Upon my oath, I'm not a violent man. But I tire of being your pet. One day the tables will turn. One day I will see fear in those eyes. Will see you back against the wall as I advance, rage burning low in me, burning, burning, till it's a tossup which is more intense -- the dull heat at my groin or the rage flaming at my core.

There will be violence then, yes -- but not hands-and-fists violence. Only the violence of rent clothing, of being slammed against the wall hard enough to bruise your back, of my mouth on yours, stubble rasping, scratching your tender skin. The violence of buttons flying, pinging off the lampshade nearby, of my hands plundering your breasts, squeezing and mauling them till you cry out with pain and humiliation. The violence of ripped panties, of jeans around your ankles, of being bent over the couch, ass raised, legs thrust rudely apart. Of a hand between your legs, feeling the awakened heat, a chuckle torn from my throat gone raw with suppressed lust.

Because this is what you wanted, isn't it? You'd played me like a master violinist, tightened my strings till I nearly snapped from the pressure -- but "nearly" being the key word. Had raised my passions and ignited my rages till I gave you what you needed -- a dominating, hard fury that finally tore away any semblance of control and propriety in your too-tight life and let you surrender to its dark wash. You wanted this more than anything else -- wanted to be taken, possessed, used roughly and brutally till there was nothing left in your world but pure, raw sensation.

And I'll take it, too. Driving hard and fast, taking what's been mine all along, had I but known it. Plunging deep, plunging hard, angry steel merging with your liquid center. Screams of anticipation, of rage, of fear and shame and delight. Of ecstasy. Invading you, battering, leaving marks on your flesh, scarring and searing your soul with rippling flames, binding you to me now and forevermore.

Fire cleanses, fire destroys. But only in the fires of a forge is the strongest steel made. Links that can never be broken.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 12-3-10: "Summer Song"

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

Flash Fiction Friday 7-9-10: "Roar"

(Photo this week provided by Luna Mauvaise; original source unknown).

He wasn't sure which was loudest: the roar of the surf, the roar of the rain, or the roaring in his head as the beast broke its chains and took over.

He didn't know her name, didn't care. He'd met her bare minutes ago, sheltering from the downpour, and something had lured them both out into the deluge. Now she straddled him fiercely, her own hunger exploding, her own growls and snarls drowned by the tempest around them.

He clawed at her, raking her back, devouring her mouth, her breasts. She bit at his tongue and lips, tore furrows in his back, ground her pelvis against his, feeling him throb, wanting that bar of flesh. They were driven, beaten, hammered, from both within and without.

Rain mingled with driving surfspray pounded over them. Neither of them noticed, or cared.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for this Friday, 7-9-10, was to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 48-148 words. I also provided a key phrase for use somewhere in the submission: 

"...driven, beaten, hammered..." 

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.

I am away on business this week and am unable to make the rounds on Friday, so I'll be collecting the participant list when I return and posting it on Monday the 12th. So if you joined in this week, 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, and nobody wants that. :)


Check back here on Monday for the list of participants, and 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 Luna Mauvaise for providing this week's. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 5-21-10: "Down and Dirty"

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