Flash Fiction Friday 10-28-11: "Sex on Dark Wings"

(Source image: "Battire" by Gernot)

The night air was heavy with promise. I breathed hard as I stroked, loving the exposure, feeling the explosion build.

Then, behind me, the tenebrous whir of leathery wings. I turned; she alighted. Skin pale as the moon, round heavy breasts, tresses of ebony, lips red as blood...delicate black wings.

“So glad I chose this rooftop to begin my hunt this evening,” she murmured. And began walking toward me, her gaze devouring my every inch.

“Uh.” Play the host, that's what you do for unexpected guests. “Uh, can I, would you like a drink? Some wine?”

“Oh no,” she purred, still moving in that slow stalk, eyeing my hardness deliberately. “I do not drink.....wine.”

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today, this near-Halloween day, was to use the slightly spooky picture above and write a flash fiction of 80-120 words. Additionally, I wanted you to use this H.P. Lovecraft word in your fic:

"...tenebrous..."

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:

Truthfully, from the instant I chose this photo there was really no question about what direction I was going with it. The idea of the temptress, the succubus, the sexy female vampire -- all of these get plenty of play in many an erotic fantasy, and I'm no different. Maybe I wouldn't react so calmly if I was caught on a rooftop with my cock in my hand by a bat-winged temptress who obviously wanted fresh meat, but not blood, but hell, who knows?

And yes, I know her lips are black and not red. Sue me. :) 

Happy Halloween! 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 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

Group Post: "Curves"

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

Cloudburst

CRACK! KABOOM!

".....the fuck?" I mutter, coming awake with a start. My mind is still smeary, muzzy with sleep. I blink at the accusing glow of the bedside clock: 4:47 AM. The blackness outside is thick, oppressive, but I can see shadows and shapes shifting even through the drawn blinds. And noise, plenty of noise....ah, that's it. It's raining.

'Raining' is a rather dramatic understatement, I discover as I slide out of bed and lift the blinds. I can't even see through the screen, it's so bleared with water and wind. I can faintly see the shapes of the trees waving about, but that's really all I can discern.

Not good enough. I have this thing about storms, you see. I don't know what it is, but something about them, something deep and primal, speaks to a buried part of me. They always make my heart race. I love watching lightning streak the sky and feel pounding rain against my skin, to feel the wind on my face and rippling my clothes, to be buffeted by the blow and feel the thunder vibrating my bones.

So I go downstairs and walk out onto the balcony, to feel the storm firsthand. I'm already awake, after all. In a trice I'm soaked to the skin -- but then, since I sleep nude, that's hardly surprising. The rain splashes warmly over me, a thousand tiny caresses. I shake my head like a dog, splattering droplets everywhere, only to have more bucketsful of water poured over me in a matter of seconds. Laughing, I spread my arms wide and turn in a circle, feeling the wind curve itself around me. Normally I'd be worried about neighbors watching, but at 5 AM in a driving storm, who's going to be outside on their balconies? Besides me, that is.

Apparently you are. The door opens behind me and, astonished, I see that you've dropped your own nightgown to join me, skin to skin. You press against me from behind, our bodies as soaked and slippery as they would be in the shower. Your hands slide over my wet skin, teasing, tantalizing, slipping lower to where my cock is beginning to wake up. I feel your fingers wrap around my length, squeezing gently, testing its hardness (which is increasing every second due to your ministrations).

In response, I turn around slowly, my dick slapping against your belly as I press close. One hand goes between your legs where I discover immediately that not all the wetness there is from rain. You must have been playing with yourself upstairs before coming down here, to be this wet and ready. I dip my head and snare a nipple with my mouth, tearing a low cry of pleasure loose from you -- but the whistling wind flings it away.

My hands go to your ass and squeeze. You catch my gaze and murmur, "Now." So I lift you up, your arms going round my neck, and impale you on my cock. Both of us grunt in mindless pleasure, reveling in just how damned right it feels. Thunder crashes again, sending vibrations right down to our bones, making already-heated skin tingle, super-sensitized. I turn around slowly, balancing and supporting you, until you're leaning back against the balcony railing. Then we begin moving together, almost immediately overcome by mounting passions. In an instant we're rutting like animals, bodies slapping hard against each other, thrusting and pounding, grunting and growling. I press you hard against the railing and you spread your arms wide for support, throwing your head back, wild hair flying.

The lightning flashes are coming faster now. They paint the rain rivulets in silver on our skin and reveal tantalizing glimpses of our merging. The thunder is almost continuous and the rain is a positive deluge -- it pours over us both. You drop your head on my shoulder, not for support, but to bite hard at me, urging me wordlessly: "Harder. Harder. HARDER." And so I go harder, hammering into you, my thighs, my legs rigid as marble, my cock harder still. I feel your own wetness splashing my front, being washed away by the rain, then lose control and cry out soundlessly as I empty my balls into your cunt. You shiver with release and toss a grin my way.

Long minutes later I soften and slip out of you, releasing a torrent of our mixed cum onto the balcony floor. We share a deep kiss full of emotion, far from the primal lust of moments earlier. Wordlessly, both of us turn to the railing so we can enjoy the rest of the storm. Our own storm's already come and gone.


-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday: Looking Glass Falls

 

Our faces were only inches apart, our bodies pressed much closer. She clung tightly, hung and impaled on me as I stood waist-deep in the water, my feet well braced. Her arms were wrapped around my neck and her legs around my waist. My hands were on her ass, clenched tight, lifting and dropping her, each downstroke making wet smacking sounds.

Our clothing lay, an unheeded heap, nearby. Spray from the waterfall drifted in a fine mist across our bodies as she rode me. The water was cold, but the two of us were very, very hot.

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

This is my entry for Spanky and Tiggs's second Flash Fiction Friday, using the pic shown above as an inspiration. You want to play too? Then go check out the post for inspiration!

-- PB