Flash: Lowriding

Rating: Mature

CB popped back on his leather Stetson, now that he and Charlotte finished mucking the stables. He tossed his shirt into the stable clothes bin. Some things just weren’t worth taking to the bunk house and Miss Becca rather not have stink at her chow line. Charlotte or Miss Becca would pick up the laundry later, after the shirt ripened some more among the horse rags.

Leaning against a post just inside the barn, CB waited while the girl closed doors and put the equipment away just like she liked it. He rued the day he helped her with the putting back. She had a system and he broke it. After she finished tearing him up one side and down the other, he was more than willing lay about while she struggled with the picks and shovels. The woman had used no words she shouldn’t, but CB rather have the foreman curse a blue streak then deal with her on a rip.

Her eyes kept drifting to him, her lips curled in a secret laughing smile, as things got put.

Dang, he knew he was dirty, especially after two weeks on the trail checking fences, but her stares since he came in with the dawn were making him a might self conscious.  He ran one hand down his chest seeing if any manure had snuck inside the shirt before he shucked it. Slick sweat and dusty red clay combined leaving mud across his pecs and abdomen. He started wiping with both hands, but the streaking went from bad to worse.

Seeing his difficulty, Charlotte snagged a clean towel from the pile they used to wipe down horses.

“Let me,” the brunette suggested.

The little thing didn’t even top his shoulders, but he figgered she had a good idea. “If you’re game, I’d be obliged.”

 He had worked the Double Bar T Ranch since the girl was a freshman in high school. None of the hands, including him, realize Charlotte worked harder than a mule following a carrot before she went off to college. Everyone made the piece of pudding welcome when she came home for the summer, and gladly returned her chores to her tender loving and firebrand care.

“Wouldn’t offer my services if I wasn’t.” She said as she gently wiped the mud off his front side. She looked up smiling, her head cocked to the side.

Tarnation, she had the prettiest brown eyes. CB sweated a few bullets before she started circling around back. CB stepped away from the pole to help her, and his jeans slipped lower.

Well that don’t beat all, his pants were falling off. He lost weight on the trail like he always did and he didn’t have a belt on. And he hadn’t wore underpants because he had done worn the lot on the trail and turned them inside out once to boot. He looked down and saw his short curls peeking over the top of his Levis.

He wondered if he could pull them up without her noticing.

Ooh, that feels so good. She put some ginger into her rubs.

“Like the moan cowboy, sounds just like Rowan when I get it just right. Why don’t you just set yourself down and I can work you top to bottom.” The nineteen year old pushed his twenty-eight year old carcass over to a bench. “Just sit right there and I’ll get the water.”

He watched the girl move through the barn, picking up two more towels, fetching the softer hand soap she preferred, and filling a bucket. He may have lost weight in the last two months, but she had put some on … in all the right and proper places. Her jeans were snug and her top was tight; she would need some new glads before the summer was out.

While he watched, one of the straining buttons failed, giving him a peek of white satin between red and blue plaid.

Setting the bucket beside him on the bench, she stepped between his legs to take off his hat and place it on her head. His eyes were in line with the gape in her shirt. Wouldn’t take much to pop another one. The buttons immediately above and below were straining like puppies on a leash.

A cold wet towel plopped on his head. “Now let’s get down to business CB.”

Shock of the cold made him reach out and grab the easiest thing handy. Happened to be Charlotte’s butt. She wiggled, not hard, just a something not right. Instinctually, like answering a horse shiver, he moved his hands down a bit ‘til they were comfortable. Cupping her sweet ass cheeks.

He outlined and massaged her ass, praying her daddy didn’t walk through the door, while she washed his hair, shoulders and face. Charlotte traced his face gently, gave him a quick peck on the lips and then leaned over his body to wash his back.

Okay, now he sometimes forgot to board the train as his fellow hands put it. But if a woman hits him with a clue-by-four he might figure things out. He reasoned it had to be easier for her to walk around to his back to wash him, rather than lean over him, pressing her breasts into his shoulders, her butt supported by his hands, and one leg wrapped around him for balance.

He brought a hand around to her front and rubbed the wide open juncture of her legs.

This time she was the one who moaned like Rowan.

“Oh dear,” Charlotte announced, “I am just getting wet through and through. Would you mind if I take off my shirt CB?”

“If you want to Miss Charlotte, I just don’t want no problems with Mr. Teahon.” CB’s hands continued to massage of her backside and front zipper. “My job here is as fine as you.”

Charlotte’s cadence changed from the East Coast university she was attending to her childhood tempo as her voice roughened in passion. “Aww, I didn’t expect no sweet talk CB.”

She lowered her leg outside of his denim clad one, pushing it against her own leg with his hand caught between. She lifted his face, holding it firm.

 “Now you don’t go worrying about my paw none. I have already told him what I want, told him even before I went off to schooling. He said if my eye hadn’t wandered by the time I got back and you were amenable-like, he would lock up the shotgun.”

Charlotte brought her other leg to the outside of his legs then sat aside CB. His buttons to her zipper. “So tell me, cowboy, are you amenable? I got some proof here saying you be willing and able.”

(words 1,122 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/29/2013 for the 7/15/12 Sunday Fun (unknown copyright on picture); republished new format 4/15/2018)

Flash: Take Out

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

Natalie pulled into Kryler’s driveway with every nerve ending throbbing. The first meeting of the day was with Gustavo, and his Spanish accent and Latino looks set her off. Usually part of the day was spent in a pleasant daydream of sandy Mexican beaches, sipping Fuzzy Navels and being fed chocolate by cabaña boys and a Latino lover.

Today, the daydream would start with her tanning, her bikini top untied. Behind her, someone would pour warm oil over her. When she looked over her shoulder Kryler would be there, smiling, rubbing the oil in, moving his hands lower in a sensual massage. The daydream disintegrated time and again to making love in the waves, making love on an empty stretch of beach, being carried into a hammock under palm trees and having amazing sex.  Anytime she had a few non-thinking moments – standing in line for lunch, walking down the hall, waiting for the computer to save – her mind would return to the beach and Kryler.

The drive from work had every daydream from the day replay with phantom strokes touching her back, her breasts, between her legs. She was so wet and ready, she was shaking.

Natalie used her key to get in. Must be nice to inherit a house from an aunt. With no student loans, since he dropped out of college, Kryler was home free monetary-wise. Half of his paycheck went to his 401K. The man was so lucky, he drove a car he won answering one of those “come in today, you have already won contests” from a dealer.  The type you go and get a new water bottle or screwdriver; the type only one person in the United States is going to go home with a new car he didn’t pay for.

Still she couldn’t complain about his generosity. His one-year anniversary gift to her for dating was paying off a student loan. One down, only seven to go. Maybe she should consolidate, but if she did she would lose some of the special privileges offered for student loans. Consolidation switches the loan to a bank loan.

Frowning she tucked her shoes beside another four sets in the entrance way. Drat, he wasn’t alone. Her typical luck.

She looked in the designer-home quality kitchen. Copper pots hung over the cooking island. Not a dirty dish to be seen. He and his three guests hadn’t broken for dinner yet.

She removed a few bills from her purse as she went deeper in the house to the man-cave basement.  Sounds of rolling dice welcomed her as she made her way down the steps. Four boys were gathered around the table with stacks of paper, pencils, a couple of weird screens, and dice. Kryler declared, “The goblin found a kink in your armor and his rusty knife bites deeply. You take 10% damage.”

“Shit, I already was down to 50%.” Efren shuffled papers around. “During my next round, I will be using a Nightingale bandage to close the wound.”

“Sounds great, you won’t need to check for tetanus if you heal the wound with magic.”

Andre, who had been facing the staircase, greeted her during the lull in action. “Hey, Natty, what’s up?”

She hated being called Natty. Kryler’s friends were an immature, irreverent bunch of computer geeks, constantly over playing games. Not a single one of them had a girlfriend. She wasn’t even certain Efren or Will had ever kissed a girl, though Will was pushing thirty.

But while they might not know what to do with a real woman, she did know what to do with them when she wanted alone time with Kryler.

And she really, really needed alone time with Kryler right now. God, just one good stroke and she would cum screaming.

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but I need Kryler for a moment.” Her high heel pumps, tight skirt, and overly sensitive clit kept her hips swaying as she made her way to Kryler’s chair.

“Oh, no.” … “Damn.” … “But it was just getting good.” Went around the table.

“Here’s twenty-five dollars. Go do a pizza run.” She tossed the money out as she leaned over to bite Kryler’s ear.

Andre picked up the money as Natalie slid her hand inside Kryler’s shirt when he leaned back into her nibbling. Her Peter Pan pulled her face closer to kiss her firmly on the lips.

The three lost boys started making their way up the stairs. She could feel the uncomfortable waves rising off of Will and Efren and smirked as Kryler pulled her into his lap. Soon she would have him to herself.

Andre spoke for the group. “Umm, we will be going then. The pizza will take about an hour since we aren’t calling ahead.”

Arranging herself astride Kryler’s lap, so he could feel her wetness against his stiff jeans, Natalie replied, “And boys, get a pizza with plenty of meat for my man here. He is going need some protein by the time you get back.”

Kryler slid his hands under her rump, arching her cleavage into his mouth. Over the hurried pounding of the leaving boys, he whispered, “You do realize you just solidified my rep with them for all time.”

Natalie laughed. “Now you just need a solid rep with me.”

He lifted her onto the table, pushing over a screen. Several dice bounced noisily onto the floor, rolling towards his overpriced game console. She pulled off his “STAND BACK, I’m about to do science” T-shirt, tossing it after the dice. He yanked off her underwear and pushed the skirt high before unbuttoning his fly.

“Well, I have a hard rep right here.” His rigid cock rubbed against her throbbing slit. “Ready to believe?”

“Convince me.”

(words 959 – first published 9/12/2013; republished new blog formation 2/18/2018)

Flash: Ride

Rating: Mature

Parking her car, Natalie could not remember the last time she laughed so hard. Kryler was pure fun.

She eyed him as the motorcycle pulled in beside her. Had she really agreed to be taken for a spin before he went in to work?

She must be more tired than she thought. Jetlag, Up all night getting the presentation ready. Up all weekend with family for the wedding. Last minute preparation for the trip and the meeting the week before. When was the last time she had more than two hours sleep in a row?

Watching him pull off his helmet and store it, a zing shivered through Natalie. Funny, she didn’t feel tired at all.

“Why don’t you come up and wait while I change into slacks?” Natalie offered as she closed and locked her car door.

“I’ll follow wherever you lead, beautiful.”

Another carefree laugh escaped at his easy complement. She hadn’t felt this happy when her sister said “I do.” And she had been looking forward to that wedding forever. The guy was a total Peter Pan and she felt like Wendy being asked to learn how to fly.

As the elevator jerked to a start, Natalie swayed. Kryler steadied her with an arm around the waist.  The arm was still around her as the old machine lurched to a stop at the sixth floor. Her stomach twisted as he stroked the small of her back waiting for the doors to open.

She could feel her panties damping.

Natalie stepped off the elevator and away from the wayward hand. Quickstepping down the hall, she chastised herself. The hand was not wayward. He had done nothing wrong. In fact, her problem was the hand had not been wayward enough. She wanted it on her ass. Exploring her.

She wanted Kryler to misbehave, be rude or aggressive. So she could kick him to the curb and be done with it.

Fiddling with the key in the door. So, what do you want girl – his hand on your ass or kick him to the curb?

Why don’t I decide after I have him between my legs?

On the motorcycle … on the motorcycle.

Exhaustion. Had to be.

So why did every nerve feel wide awake?

“Make yourself at home.” Natalie waved Kryler in her barren living space while continuing to her bedroom. She kept meaning to get additional furniture. But between work and graduate school, and now all the extra hours trying to prove herself, she still only had a lonely sofa and small television.

With little else to look at, she knew his eyes focused on her ass and put a little extra sway into her hips. The tight skirt and high business pumps already set up a good pendulum motion; she didn’t add extra ginger to her sway so much as stopped minimizing the hip movement before disappearing behind closed doors.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Already?

The boy needed to be at work in two hours. A motorcycle trip would chew up half that, at least.

Wiggling out of her skirt, she came to a decision. Maybe she would regret it later.

But, hey, you only live once.

She could always strip the boy from her life when he stopped being fun.

She wasn’t used to fun, so she didn’t think the appeal would last long.

Natalie opened the door. “Hey, would you mind coming here? I am not certain any of my slacks are heavy enough for the ride.”

“Sure thing.” His agreeable tenor responded.

Kryler stopped in the bedroom doorway.

Black bra, panties and high heels. Hair freed from its constant bun.

She stalked him.

His brown eyes stared into hers as she pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it onto her valet.

He leaned against the jam for support.

Natalie started unbuttoning his jeans after trailing a finger down his rather exceptional six-pack.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “I’ve decided on a different type of ride.”

(words 665 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/10/2013 for the 4/29/12 Sunday Fun (original picture of unknown copyright); republished in new blog format 2/11/2018)

Flash: One Soul Per

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

The two girls looked like water nymphs, half-submerged in the bay. “How soon will one of us die?”

Layne frowned. “You should be feeling the pinchers by now. Don’t worry, they only eat dead things.”

Sheep, at least he thought it was the girl with the Sheep constellation tattooed on the back of her nape smiled, “So we aren’t going to have any clothes soon?”

The picture of the two girls naked, with hair floating around them, while chained, had Layne’s fifth extremity lengthening. He adjusted his lower armor to make room. “No, pinchers recognize dead matter attached to living matter and leaves it alone. Only if you dead inside and out will they eat everything.”

The water started to recede, leaving wet lace covering their bosoms and nothing to his imagination. The Keeper of Kaireen’s Sacrifice requested the surviving twin be brought back promptly. Normally those undergoing the Tide Test wore simple white linen. But these two had apprenticed to a lacemaker and wanted to wear their skill on what could be their final day of life. They had spent the day before the Test creating the dresses from new silk and fresh linen, dyed specially for surviving the salty sea. Whichever survived would wear her masterpiece to report to her journeyman position at the lace shop. It was clear the Keeper was proud of both girls, as much as could be knowing one was a monster. Layne did not envy the Keeper his job of raising children and monsters together, never naming either to prevent giving the monsters the power of a name. Only one soul per child birth was given by the gods, and so the question becomes which of a set of twins has the soul and which is a false one. Unwilling to kill a true person without reason, the city set aside the Sacrifice grounds to raise them until they were old enough to be tested.

“We live sister!” One leaned into the other, as hugging wasn’t an option because of the short chains attaching them to a concrete block for the test, while the tide continued to fall back. They kissed cheeks and lips. Hands touched wet legs as if assuring each other that no wounds were hidden by the sea. Turning as one back to their guard. “Please, may we be released.”

Never had both twins survived the Test. But only if one had a living soul would the pinchers not tear her apart in the tide pools.

A new wave, higher than previous, and wind-blown, hit the girls about the shoulders, knocking them over. Layne’s eyes returned to the distant ocean. A storm had rolled in while he had watched the girls. The narrow bay would fill with storm-driven water. Panicked, the girls tried to stand on the cement block they were chained to, keeping their head high as waves returned without the tide.

Tossing aside his spear, Layne ran. He unbuckled his armor and sword before splashing into the water, holding the key in his hand. He quickly unlocked the chains. Sheep made it to the beach, but the girl with the Mare tattoo was terrified of drowning. She fought mindlessly, hardly aware of his presence as her water phobia terrorized her. He finally managed to carry her in and put her down on the sand.

He looked around for the Sheep tattoo, and spotted her as she flung his sword into the ocean. A hand touched his fifth, exposed by the lack of armor, immediately hardening it and freezing him in place. “What…”

“I just want to thank you for saving me.” The girl at his feet rose to her knees. “I really am afraid of the water.” Her mouth claimed his fifth, slowly sucking it deeper and deeper into her mouth until he touched the back of her throat.

He moaned. Barely able to move, he brought his hand to rest on her soaked hair.

“Don’t make him cum sister.” The Sheep had returned. “We have need for his seed if we are to survive.” The girl circled around his back and bit his ear. “And need for many other things as well.” She whispered.

Despite the Mare cupping his balls and her round mouth stroking up and down along his shaft, Layne managed to ask, “How?”

“How?” The woman whispering his ear repeated. “How are we both soulless or how did we survive the test?”

He could only moan a response. Both of his hands clenched the hair of the girl giving him the blow job.

“Enough sister, we need to move him before his fellows return.”

His fifth popped out of the Mare’s mouth. “We won’t own him until he owns us.”

“True.” The Sheep wrapped around his torso and lowered her channel onto his shaft. She squeezed the warm, wet channel around his dick. Already on the brink, he surged into the false woman, his seed spurting into her. “That’s it, give me half your soul.” Her mouth claimed his, and he felt something being pulled unwillingly from him, as much as he willingly gave her is cum.

Once he was spent, the Sheep climbed off him. Confusion clouded his thoughts when the woman instructed, “Take my sister’s hand. You know you want her soon. Don’t let her go until you’ve given her everything you have.”

Layne’s vision narrowed to see only the girl as he grasped her hand. He followed her as she pulled him over sand and rock, his eyes focused on the Mare constellation tattoo on her nape showing between the wet strands of her hair. Darkness chased them as the storm grew closer until he was drawn into a cave high in the cliff face.

Mare pulled him down on top of her as she lay on the stone floor. “To be fair, I should tell you, while there is still some of you left, my savior.” Her hands stroked his shoulders, loosening the last of the linen until he was as naked as an animal. His fifth was refilling with the juices of life, and started prodding the woman’s moist entrance. “You see we weren’t twins but triplets. While one soulless one cannot overcome a true being, two can. The true girl died stillborn.”

Horrified at the secret truth, Layne still could not keep himself from entering her. He pumped into her, feeling the last of him pass into the woman. 

(1,071 words – originally appearing at Breathless Press 10/21/13 for the 9/23/12 Sunday Fun; republished in new blog format on 1/14/2018.)

Flash: And so they meet again

Rating: Mature

Art peeked out the window of the clothing consignment shop where she worked as she flipped the open sign to close. Drat, the creep was still hanging outside. What had she done to earn her own personal stalker?

She had to admit he was absolutely yummy with his layered blond hair and kicking fog coat, like something out of an English fantasy. His cheekbones could cut bread. He also had the patience of a priest or demon.

She started noticing him in the audience during fencing competition her Freshman year. Art had asked around since he looked interesting, but he wasn’t from campus. Over the next two years, he would show up randomly in classes open to the public, at her favorite pizza joint, and sometimes at the action-adventure movies she loved. All he did was watch from a distance.

Then three weeks ago, the guy changed from someone she saw sometimes in a crowd to a constant presence. Enough was enough. The street was beginning to empty of holiday shoppers, but plenty were still around in case this went south. She closed and bolted the shop door, lowered the gate and locked it, shifted her carrying case, then turned to see he was still leaning against the building across the street.

After checking for traffic, she strode across the roadway taking advantage of the long legs her six foot two frame provided. Up close she discovered the man stood a disappointingly five eight; she had gotten good judging height and reach on the salle.

Crowding him against the wall, she asked “What do you want?”

The man raised black eyes to meet her piercing blue. They looked impossible knowledgeable in the young face. With a sad smile, he replied, “Your future.”

Taking a step back, the woman glanced around again to verify she was still safe in a crowd. “Well, you can’t have it, you perv.” Touching the sword case strapped to her back for courage, “And if I see you around again, I will call the cops.”

“A threat to use governmental structure. Excellent. Not unexpected from a political science major, but you are also a woman of action. I wasn’t certain which way you would go.” His shoulders pushed him away from the way and Art instinctively took another step back. Something about the man screamed power … and sex … she could feel her body getting loose as though she was about to fence or fall into bed with a teammate after a match. His English accent was to die for. “When you call the bobbies, please say my name is Emrys.”

“Do you got a last name so I can Google it and find out all the other women you stalked?”

He shrugged. Her mind instantly presented a picture of the wirely frame he had sported at the spring fair. He had worn cargo shorts and a muscle shirt. Not many muscles, but no excess fat either. A runner’s body. Unfortunately her mind provided the picture sans clothes. 

“First name, last name. I’ve had many names.” He started walking away backwards. “Gregory gave me the last name of Ambrosus; I guess that will do for now.” He turned around and she watched the wool coat getting damp as light flakes of snow melted on it. He stopped for a second. Turning his head around for a second, he said, “But then I guess I should say my first name is Merlinus.” He smiled a totally, ass-kicking, pussy-warming smile before continuing his retreat.

(Word 587 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 12/2/2012 (at least tried to, doesn’t seem to be taking); reprinted in new blog format 12/24/2017. The inspirational photo for the prompt was of unknown origin; since I could not verify the copyright, I am not posting it here.)