Flash Fiction Friday 12-9-11: "Breakfast Surprise"

(Image source: "Sunny Sunday Morning" by T.C. Reiner)

She staggered out into the kitchen, drawn by the aroma of her Elixir of Life. Her head was still pounding after last night's pounding, but she'd have done it all again in a second.

And might still, she thought speculatively, watching his ass work as he moved about in front of the stove. He wore an apron and nothing else.

“Ah! You're awake,” he said calmly. “Breakfast first, then dessert.”

“Dessert?” she wondered as she poured, still half awake.

“Why, yes,” he said. “First we get our strength back...then I attack you again and have you for afters.”

She shivered deliciously, feeling the clockwork mechanism get started, the floodgates opening again. “Wonderful,” she smiled, and sipped from her cup.

And choked, convulsed, sprayed the mouthful all over the kitchen. He whirled around, spatula held high, shouting, “What? What is it???”

“Burned coffee,” she coughed.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 60-160 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...burned coffee..."

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 not quite sure where I got the key phrase; it just popped into my head. Likewise, my approach on this one. I'm a big fan of sex after breakfast (or sex before breakfast.....or sex in the middle of breakfast) so I guess this isn't a big surprise. I don't do much good in the kitchen but I do well with breakfast stuff, and I do like to feed my partner the morning after a long night of fun. And yes, I've done the "apron only" thing once or twice.

Still, I know a few people who can't get started without their morning coffee, and even a prelude of foreplay would go awry if the coffee was burned. Not having a taste for the stuff myself, I wouldn't know. I hope you enjoyed 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.



Please note that this will likely be the last FFF for the year. Starting early next week I will be traveling for the remainder of the year and my Internet access on private computers is going to be extremely spotty. You may see a post here and there, or I may leave comments once in a while, but don't count on it.


Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year. I'll see you all in 2012.

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 7-15-11: "Still Life"

(Image provided by Lexi, photographer and title unknown)

Never seen a statue quite this realistic before. Absolutely exquisite.

...Wait, what? Moving eyes? Hang on a second.
The words arrowed into his brain as those eyes locked with his: Help! Get me out of here!
He stood stock still as the implications registered. He opened his mouth and she cut him off. I've jumped to the wrong place. So far I've been playing “sculpture”, but the second someone actually touches me, that's it. Please, help me!

He glanced around swiftly. The gallery was empty. All right, he thought, pulling off his coat and draping it around her shoulders. Get ready to move.

Her body was warm and soft. She felt very real indeed.

Oh, I'm definitely real, she sent. And once we have some privacy, I'll show you. I don't forget favors.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 85-135 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...stock still..."

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 had a lot of fun with this one. I've seen plenty of nude photos suggesting the subject was part of an exhibition at a very avant-garde museum, which leads to interesting speculations about how the average gallery-goer would react to a living, breathing nude.

But that wasn't enough for me. I just finished reading a time-travel novel (Up the Line by Robert Silverberg) and when I saw this my mind just naturally headed in that direction. I imagined her as a time-traveler who'd jumped into the wrong place and time entirely. How would you react at finding yourself nude in an art gallery god only knows where or when?  If you're her, well, you freeze in terror and hope you can find somebody who might be sympathetic before you get arrested or otherwise apprehended. The idea to make her telepathic was partly to give her story more credence and partly to save time with introductions.


I kind of wish now I'd made the word length less stringent. I'd have liked to explore how, exactly, she rewarded him for his favor, later on.....

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 Lexi for providing this week's photo!

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 5-13-11: "Jungle Judy"

(Source image: unknown title, artist: the legendary Hajime Sorayama)

“Well, then,” she said. “Let's see if you're up for this.”

Swiftly, efficiently, she disrobed, her violin curves the promise of untold delights. Yellow eyes blinked at me, intent.

And then she reached down, and unsnapped its collar. I'd taken it for a rug, but it stirred and rolled over, gazing at me no less intently than she had. It yawned.

“This is Shahriman,” she said. “He's very protective of me. If he sees I'm not pleased, he may not react well.”

She stretched, lazily. “So. You'd better please me.”

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 60-99 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...yellow eyes blinked..."

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 had this scheduled to post at midnight but with Blogger's downtime apparently scheduled posts didn't go up; nor did it post automatically when Blogger came back up again. Sorry about the delay in getting this up. 

Sorayama is legendary in the pinup world, and for good reason – such gorgeous artwork he brings to us. This one definitely brings out a primal, powerful feel, at least in me. I looked at the feline grace in her stance, and the powerful curve of her body, and wondered how different she really was from the tiger lying at her feet. Then I thought, how would it be if she used the tiger as a threat? Could her lover please her well enough to keep himself in one piece? Maybe a bit farfetched, but I do like taking things to unexpected places sometimes. I hope you enjoyed this one.

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 1-28-11: "Not As Expected"

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

Flash Fiction Friday 12-24-10: "A Holly Jolly Christmas"

(Artwork above is from a 70s Playboy cover by Haddon Sundblom, who is rather more well known for his other Christmas art.)

Christmas Eve, and Santa was more stressed than he'd been in months. Lists to check (twice), an elf rebellion to quell (the little buggers had gotten into the egg nog and were refusing to finish up the last few toys), last-minute transportation arrangements to handle (Rudolph, usually reliable, had been found dead drunk in a snowbank, muttering something about being a misfit). Santa wished grimly for a drink, and went back to rechecking the "naughty" list.

"Awwww. Is Papa all stressed out?" he heard from behind him.

Turning, he beheld a vision. A Christmas hat cocked at a jaunty angle. Golden hair framing an angelic -- no, make that a devilish smile. And the shortest red robe he'd ever seen. Not to mention the spectacular body it was just barely hiding.

"Here," she cooed. "Let me take care of that." And she spread her robe like she was unwrapping a gift.

Ten minutes later, Santa was feeling much more jolly. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he boomed cheerfully. "I've gotten my present; time to get all the good girls and boys their presents too!

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Claus," she grinned.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus," he replied, and kissed her tenderly.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 121-199 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...unwrapping a gift..."

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 Jimmy Buffett's highly amusing island-flavored Christmas tune "Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum" (listen to it on Youtube here; lyrics are here if you really have trouble figuring them out). Who has more reason to be stressed during the Christmas season than Santa himself? I mean, the number of things he has to keep track of must be just ridiculous. And aside from the odd household that leaves out cookies and milk for him, how many people ever say thanks? I like to think that Santa's wife does what she can to help keep him unstressed, and I also like to think that someone who's that cheerful must have a very happy and very active sex life. So I wrote a little piece where Santa gets a nice bout of happy holiday sex from his loving wife and the problems he's dealing with just melt away. If you don't like that, well, humbug to you. :)

Eagle-eyed readers, or at least readers with the same exposure to children's TV specials, may also have noted the tip of the hat to the old Rankin-Bass animated "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" holiday special, both in the title and in the piece itself. I will never tire of watching that; there are so many happy memories associated with it. I never thought Rudolph was a misfit, but then that may just be because I was something of a weird misfit myself, growing up. And "Papa" is just what Mrs. Claus calls Santa in that special; there's no Santa-daughter incest going on here. :)

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! 

Please note that there is no participants list this week as I am traveling for personal and business reasons and have limited access to email and to Blogger. I hope you enjoyed this week's pic and challenge. 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 12-10-10: "Presents in Big Packages"

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

Group Post: "The Day...."

He would never forget that day, not if he lived to be a thousand. It was graven in his mind as deeply as words chiseled into granite tablets. Wind and sand and water might blow but the words, the images, were proof against time, never to be forgotten. Ozymandias only wished he had been that memorable.

That day....

....he had come home from work early, but hadn't called her. She was always so good at surprising him; he wanted to see if he could manage the same. He'd even stopped by her favorite Thai place on the way home to grab some for her.

That day....

....he'd entered the house, finding it strangely quiet and still. Hell of a contrast to her normal demeanor around the place -- singing lustily, slamming pots and dishes around in the kitchen, screaming imprecations at the TV as she was frustrated by a game she was playing. He turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out where she was without calling out to her and giving the game away.

That day....

....he'd heard faint sounds emanating from upstairs, and smiled. She must be in bed having some solo fun. Discarding his jacket, he'd picked up the Thai takeout box and crept upstairs, silent as a cat with sound-damping pads on its paws.

That day....

....he'd padded slowly down the hallway, her soft moans and rustling sounds drifting under the closed door of their bedroom. Had grinned even more broadly as he imagined the scenario: she was probably watching some porn on the TV, propped up on pillows, fucking herself with her favorite Njoy wand.

Hang about. Closed bedroom door?

They never closed the bedroom door -- why bother to, when there are only two people living in the house?

That day....

....he'd pushed open the door, brow furrowing in puzzlement, and frozen in shock as he beheld the tableau: the love of his life, propped up on pillows just as he'd imagined; porn on the TV, just as he'd imagined; her Njoy wand plunging in and out of her cunt, just as he'd imagined.

But what he hadn't imagined was that the hand manipulating the Njoy wasn't hers. It was a slim, strong, hairy hand, attached to a slim, strong, hairy arm, in its turn attached to a slim, hairy male body. A nude male body, well-shaped, well-toned. He got a confused impression of a mop of dark hair before the head dipped to begin licking his wife's very obviously soaked pussy. She moaned louder and her hand twined through the interloper's hair.

Always good at surprising me, he thought fleetingly. Never like this, though.

He cleared his throat and was gratified at the immediate response: she shrieked, but not with pleasure. The guy skittered, crablike, across the bed and stood in a kind of bent-over crouch, arms shielding his groin, instinctively protecting that which meant the most. She looked terrified, and pulled out the Njoy with a wet pop, attempting furtively to hide it behind her. He smiled grimly.

"Honey," she rasped, then tried again. "Honey. This, this isn't what it looks like. He's. He's, um, a friend, and he, and he....uhhhhh....why the hell are you laughing?"

Indeed he was laughing, silently shaking with it, rocking back and forth as gales of mirth blasted through him. The Thai takeout dropped to the carpet, forgotten, and he laced both hands over his belly, trying to contain his laughter. He threw back his head and roared out his amusement, echoes reverberating, mixing with the groans and moans of the porn still playing on the TV. He noted with even more amusement that both of them were exchanging glances, no doubt wondering if the shock had driven him out of his mind.

Finally he ran dry and choked and spluttered to a halt. "Babe," he chided her, still snickering, "there are better ways you could have told me you wanted to open up our marriage."

A dawning hope replaced terror and bewilderment in her eyes. "You....you mean you...." she wanted to know, but couldn't continue.

"Did you want me to join in this time? Or would you two rather finish up while I go have dinner?"

"Um." She still had a slightly stunned look on her face, but rallied swiftly: "Um, why don't you watch for a while?"

"Suits me," he nodded. And motioned towards the other guy, who was now regarding him with a strange mixture of respect and fear. "You planning on introducing me?"

"Um." She seemed to hunt for words, then: "Er, hon, this is, um, this is Stephen."

"Good to meet you, Stephen," he said, sitting down in a chair and stretching his legs nonchalantly in front of him. "Well? Keep going, don't mind me."

-- PB

(The Group Post is hosted by Kimberly, the Errant Wife. If you liked this, why not see how these other folks took and ran with the theme of "The Day..."?)

Petal --  http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
Kink Chronicles --  http://www.thekinkchronicles.blogspot.com/
Autumn -- http://www.autumnmistspeaks.blogspot.com/
Veronica --  http://anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com/
Ronjazz --  http://www.ronjazz.blogspot.com/
Ms Scarlett --  http://msscarlettletter.blogspot.com/
Hubman --  http://hubmanshangout.wordpress.com/
Aurore --  http://dangerousliaisons-aurore.blogspot.com/
Mykeyman --  http://www.outsidevanilla.blogspot.com/
Gray --  http://mygrayline.blogspot.com/
Advizor --  http://advizortoall.blogspot.com
Duchess --  http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com/
FG Sakes --  http://fgsakes.blogspot.com/
Topaz --  http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com/
They Belong To Us --  http://theybelongtous.wordpress.com/
and our host, Kimberly --  http://yourerrantwife.blogspot.com/