Flash Fiction Friday, April 11, 2014 ~ Passionata

Flash Fiction Friday: 100 words - one inspirational photograph for all participating authors. This is a beautiful photo by Trish Causey. If this doesn't inspire ones muse, I surely don't know what will. Is she dead? Has she surrendered to a lover, a captor or reunited with an ex? You can take this photo anywhere you want.

Read what I was inspired to write then sashay over to read what the other participating authors were moved to write by this picture. They are listed below under the author's link or listed one by one. As always, your comments inspire us to continue. Ours is a solitary life working with our computers to express our own passions. So your comments feed our Muse and are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! xo

Accreditation: Trish Causey
Passionata

In the darkness, he slipped his fingers under the thin straps of her dress. It fell, without resistance, to the floor in a silken puddle. Frozen, the electricity from his touch suspended her breath in a mesmeric grip. She melted under his fingertips and he caught her as her knees buckled under her passions.
 
Powerless, she folded against him; his body molded under her, seated, with her legs open, her core exposed across his lap. 

 

He inhaled her aroma igniting an irreversible explosion, a volcano, within her that fired her every pore with ravenous desire. 

 

She surrendered to her wings.

Participating Authors Link

or 

J S Morbius
AuroraRose Andromeda
Doris O'Connor
Pablo Michaels
Mangus Khan

 

 

Your Comments Encourage

Thank you ♥



 

Thursday Taster, April 10, 2014 ~ The Little Mermaid: An Erotic Adaptation

The Little Mermaid, written by Hans Christian Anderson in 1836, speaks to the coming of age of Princess Ariel, Sea Royalty as she is the youngest daughter to the mighty Sea King. Now, when HCA wrote this wonderful piece, I doubt he thought I would ever come along and write an erotic adaptation. But, I did indeed. It has been accepted by Ravenous Romance for an upcoming Erotic Fairytale Anthology. I am thrilled.

This Thursday Taster picks up where we left off last week, after the wreck of the Prince's ship and his rescue by Princess Ariel, who lays sleeping across his chest, exhausted, when he awakes. The wicked, vengeful Hermione waits, watches and listens to his prayers then plans the revenge against Princess Ariel's father, the Sea King, who has banished her from his Ocean Kingdom. Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment, then plunge in the prurient pool pf my writing partners and visit their Tasters, now that your appetite has been wet. Follow the link or visit them one-by-beautiful-one listed below. Now, dip your toe into my tidal-pool......Enjoy!! xo


Hermione ~ Queen of the Saltwater Sirens
A Wicked Water Witch and Fallen Court Confident

Sometime much later, when the winds had lost their fury, the seas had claimed its bounty and the sun opened the morning sky with the knife of a warm golden ray, the Prince awoke slowly, embraced by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He soon realized but not for her, he would have perished with his ship and crew. He memorized her every inch tho her mountains of flaxen hair lain in golden curls across her face and his chest. Quite gently he pushed the amber ribbons from her face to spy the loveliness he had seen the night before. She was adorned in jewels and sea bounty, shells and coral. Her skin the color of pearls and her lips flushed with scarlet roses lead to the unmistakable curve of her breasts, cupped in iridescent shells and tied with a chain of sea roses and flowers. His heart beat rapidly with the hearts of a thousand doves and his pulse flushed with fire through his body as he felt a familiar stir in his loins. Oh, to have this beauty would be an honor of unbelievable proportion.  Beautiful and clearly royal, she was but half of a woman’s body and where the nip of her tiny waist widened to her hips, was covered in the elegant, shimmering scales of a fishtail.  

Oh, to be blessed by such a creature only to be denied his passion was cruel and painful for he loved her quite immediately. He closed his arms around her and began to cry silently, sending up a prayer of thanks for having his life spared but also of recrimination that he should befall to the charms of a woman that could never return his love. Hermione heard his quiet prayers which gave her, much to her liking, a sinister idea. Such a notion could easily be explained as agreeable in nature and helpful while under the guise of not perhaps being well thought-out. Who could hold her responsible for the folly of these two star-crossed lovers thrown together not by her own hand but that of the Gods at will! Who was the Sea King to question the will of the Gods…………and love? 

With that, Hermione went to the young human man who whimpered into the fair-haired curls of his beloved. She rode the dancing turquoise currents, collecting seashells, sea-flowers and colored coral. As she closed the distance, the transformation began: her tail ~ glistening scales falling away like glitter and long…supple…graceful ~ was now two lengths of elegant limbs upon which she stood. Through the ribbons of her hair, painted by the ocean depths with an onyx shimmer, she wove her sea treasures. Her skin, decorated, bronze and silken, glistened with a hunger to be touched. And her natural eagerness increased with human ache, passion, desire.

She crawled upon the crag, bent to touch the human male’s tear-stained cheek and sang soulfully, tenderly about love and longing. The young man looked upon her, impressed by her dark commanding beauty and seduced by her tantric voice. 

She spoke in low tones, subtle and slow, “The little mermaid you hold so close to your heart is a Royal Princess, honored youngest daughter to the Sea King known as Princess Ariel, fifth in the line of heirs to the Royal Wealth of Riches in the Sea Bountiful. I am not sure he would approve of your so intimate a coupling.”

 

 

Participating Author Link

or

Pablo Michaels

Dianne Hartsock

Don Abdul

 Jake Malden

Mangus Khan

 

Your Comments Encourage
Thank you ♥

 

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers, April 8, 2014 ~ The Cellist

Ah ha!! It is Tantalyzing Tuesday and I don't know about you but I have missed my weekly challenges and the inspiration of my prurient partners. It's been so long! Remember? The skill involves selecting a photograph of one's own choice and writing a 200 word story, a bit like trying to get 10 pounds into any two pound bag!

Today I have imaged a beautiful cellist, a lifetime away, but only separated by a wall, and a private housebound admirer. Is he crippled by shyness, a broken body, agoraphobia or just inexperienced around women? We won't know for he will never meet the object of his passions and she will continue to come and go in his silence leaving her beauty, fragrance and music hanging in her absence.

Tell me what you think in the comments section below then do, please, go visit the other participating authors to see what they have prepared for you in a mere 200 words or less based upon a photo of their choosing. They are listed below as notes of a concerto, one-by-one on a sheet on music or by the link. A demain, mes amis. Enjoy!! xo

The Cellist

He watched her arrive, every day, for the many years. She moved with the elegant slow motion of wedding-lace in the breeze: softly responding to the wind, impediments and children playing noisily in the street. She carried her violoncello case in her small grip, gracefully dodging any hindrance. He lost sight of her on the threshold when her key awakened the latch in the door with a worn tumble. He could only imagine her stature as her measured footsteps on the carpeted stairs announced her arrival beyond his door. 

 

She was so beautiful. 

 

She was graceful and refined, self-assured in her demeanor and wore her striking splendor with bearing. In the room above him, he heard her entrance as her melodic cadence carried her through the apartment to the front window for her lesson.

 

He settled just below her in his own bay-window to listen and dream of her before him, stroking her cello, creating music; it was for him alone she played. She leaned into her music, her golden hair falling across her breast, as he felt every caress, every change in tempo, every vibrato her bow seduced from the instrument. 

 

So compelling was her image, he silently wept......again today. 

 

 Participating Author Link

or

Ray Sostre

Doris O'Connor

J S Morbius

Naomi Shaw

Molly Synthia
Pablo Michaels
 Jake Malden

 

 

Your Comments Encourage
Thank you ♥

 

Flash Fiction Friday, February 28, 2014 ~ Have We Met?

So, we remodelled our bar and restaurant when I was just a young thing, my husband, brute and buff, on a ladder in shorts bare naked from the waist up. Lemme tell you right now, there is nothing like a man in the moment of heat and sweat that is covered in sprinkles of perspiration sparkling in the fractured sunlight with his ripped chest, heaving for breath. Holy Mother of Man, give me that one, please!

 

And the less they suspect about how they crank us up, the better. Soooooooooo, that is just the story I have told for this photo and this poor bastard. Ha! Good Samaritan that he is, I think he is going to fair prettttttttty well, in the end. Me also thinks he may know her and she may have been watching him for some time then gotten herself more than just a little worked up as he remodelled the diner. But, I could be wrong.

 

Have a salty read and then sashay over to my nasty network of authors friends and read what this photo drove them to write! You can find them on the link below or listed one-by-beautiful-one like a tasty menu of lip-smakin' milkshakes. Leave a comment if you enjoy our work, especially mine........love you! 

 

Acknowledgement YouTube
Have we Met?

He worked up a sweat trimming the new countertop when it started to pour rain. He heard a soft thud against the door, looked to see her slump, agony on her face. He bolted, unlocked the diner door and lifted her off the threshold.

 

“My ankle…....”

 

“Let me help you……”

 

He collected her body in his arms easily, felt her breasts against his chest, and perched her gently on the counter to examine her ankle when she wrapped her legs around his waist then pulled him into her breast.

 

"Whaaaaaaaa.......?"

 

“You’re half-naked, sweaty-hot.....just the way I wanna fuck my hero.”

 

Easy-peasy......booyah!!

 

Participating Authors Link

or

J S Morbius      Doris O'Connor

Decadent Kane (Summer)

Brantwijn Serrah

AuroraRose Andromeda

Dariel Raye

Pablo Michaels



Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers, February 25, 2014 ~ The Interruption

Tantalyzing Tuesday finds me postulating the arousal that an invigorating work-out with a great looking trainer can ignite. Have you ever come home, not tired and spent from your run or work-out, but hot, sexy and ready to roll? Well, if this wee (200 words ~ one photo) story doesn't get to you, the music, Siren by Red Delicious, will work you up.

Well, my heroine did, and so did I. Have a fun read then jog over to my prurient partners and see what they have to taunt, titilate and tantalize. You'll be able to find all my awesome writer friends listed under the link or one by one just above the area thoughtfully provided for you to leave me a comment. Thanks for visiting. Enjoy, this one is a little less ethereal........xo

 

The interruption

Your back to me, I saw you at your desk working intently. Fresh from the gym, I immediately remembered my trainer, a long blonde beauty with million-dollar-legs that might wrap nicely around your waist, her neatly trimmed bush tight against your waist. We’d showered together after our workout: so pretty, so curvy with lovely hands and arousing nipples that tempt me. The fantasy made me focus on you even more. 

Your office reflected your style; the blended aroma of leather, cashmere and male was intoxicating. I was hot, wet to my core. I stood in the hallway and thought about your hard, thick penis buried in my scarlet mouth. Trembling, I slipped off my clothes in the hall; only my red stilettos remained, then closed the distance.

 

I placed my palm at the base of your neck then ran my fingernails over the soft curve of your scull and grabbed a handful of your hair. I pulled your head back and as I bent to place my lips on yours I inhaled the heady, exhilarating smell of fresh bread, pipe-tobacco and brandy that was you.

 

I whispered breathlessly into your eager mouth as I straddled your growing lap.....“Pardon the interruption”

Participating Authors

or

Molly Synthia      J S Morbius

Doris O'Connor

Alexandra Anthony      Jorja Lovett

Jake Malden     Ray Sostre
Rose Anderson



 

Flash Fiction Friday, February 21, 2014 ~ Without You

Flash Fiction Friday yet again here at Will Blog for Sex. The photo below (I just love it!!!) is the common inspiration subject for all participating writers about which the challenge is to write a 100 word story in brief. It isn't as easy as it sounds. The weekly exercise is designed to develop writing skills of brevity, words selected for the maximum description and effect. Get to the point of your story artfully, concisely with the most impact.

I think I accomplished that this week, so I hope you enjoy my piece. If you do, please leave me a comment below and then have a saunter over to my sensuous co-writer friend's blogs to read how this very same photo inspired them. They are listed below like heartbeats shared between lovers: one special one at a time.

Enjoy Without You.........

Without You

“I will die before you if you deny me love…” she whispered, as he caught her descent while she weakened.

 

“No, darling, please, not now…….not ever! I can….I do love you!” he prayed into her hair.

 

She felt his palms upon her arched neck and his lips upon her forehead which ignited the passion that gripped her heart and soul. The tendrils of possession embraced her body and left their mark. The obsession she felt spread and left her defenseless against her resolve to be but his or no one’s. 

 

She shared one breath, his; without it she would perish.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Participating Author Blog Link

or

J S Morbius    Theresa Stuart     Naomi Shaw
Rose Anderson    S.J. Maylee
Decadent Kane (Summer)     Fierce Dolan
AuroraRose Andromeda
Doris O'Connor
Davee Jones Author

 

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, February 18, 2014 ~ Soulful Soar

Last week it was Sirens and this, Valkyries. It is Tantalyzing Tuesday again and it is my favorite day of the week. This week, I have chosen a familiar topic for most of us: fear of success. I have decided to use a Norse mythological figure as as my fearless fighter of failure. A Valkyrie is one of a host of powerful female figures who decide the destiny of soldiers: which die in battle and which live. Valkyries also appear as lovers of heroes and other mortals, where they are sometimes described as the daughters of royalty, sometimes accompanied by ravens, and sometimes connected to swans or horses.

In my story, this Valkyrie must decide which live or die in the battle of fear and courage, failure and success. I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave me a comment below. Then, at your leisure, have a jaunt over to my awesome author/writer friends' blogs and see the photograph they have selected as their inspiration piece and read their 200 word piece.

Survive defeat; ride your Valkyrie to Victory..........and Succeed!!!

Soulful Soar
Dedicated to Naomi Shaw

If she steps from the mesa, off the edge of the cavernous cliff, above the yawning hollow of the precipice will her dreams carry her as her Valkyrie, like strong barebacked clouds, and fly into the face of her fear where success and honor await?

Or…….Is it possible that her dreams are weaker than her fears and she will fall into the cruel embrace of failure? Can it be that her Valkyrie, her fearless-steed, hasn’t the strength to hoist her into the Heavens of her mind, her heart…….her words and dash the insistent shadowed wall of terror into the recesses of misadventure, the casket of forever forgotten failures? 
 

How is it that the anchor of fright prevents her from the exploration of her soul?  It is there, within her, as paralyzing dread and iniquity. Her talent, love and heart are all a part of her soul, too, along with the cavernous darkness of anxiety, however is the courage and certainty of self enough to brave disappointment?  
 

There is but one way to find out. Trust the will of your instincts; lean into your dreams, fall into the face of failure and brave the sweet, gratifying nectar of soulful triumph
……..and soar.

 

Participating Author Link

or

J S Morbius

Naomi Shaw      Rose Anderson

Ray Sostre     Doris O'Connor

Pablo Michaels
Molly Synthia
Dariel Raye

 

 

Flash Fiction Friday, February 14, 2014 ~ Queen of the Saltwater Sirens

Who among us has never looked into the blacken depths of the ocean and wondered, Are they real? And if they live, what is the difference between a Mermaid and a Siren?  Simply put, Mermaids are thought to save mariners from the cold dark depths of Neptune's death grip while Siren's are known to seduce a man to his death through the lure of song and sad wailing, for whatever reason they want: food, play or temperment.

This Flash Fiction Friday 100 word story, based upon the photo below for us all, is about such an creature. Please read my short song to the mariner and bless me with a comment before you leave to visit all the other participating writers to read what this photo has evoked in them. They are listed below like sea treasures or you can just follow the link provided.

In any event, a Mariner would be foolhardy to stop to save a Saltwater Siren as they were never in distress but who can tell the difference between friend or foe when the beautiful outstretched arm is so long, lovely and beckoning...?

Acknowledgement ~ Pininterest
Queen of the Saltwater Sirens

She rode the dancing turquoise currents, collecting seashells, sea-flowers and colored coral. As she ascended, the transformation began: her tail, scales falling away like glitter and long…supple…graceful, was now two lengths of elegant limbs. Diving to the ocean floor, she scavenged for keepsakes of her adventure, bits of jewels, coral, and iridescent shells to save. Through the ribbons of her hair, painted by the depths with an onyx shimmer, she wove her seashells, sea-flowers and colored coral sea treasures. Her skin, decorated, bronze and silken, glistened with a hunger to be touched.

And her natural eagerness increased with ache, passion, desire.

She crawled upon the crag, waited and sang-soulfully, as the thunderous sea rolled, twisted, churned to deliver.

Mariners would rescue a maiden-in-distress, never a sea-witch and...

She had a pod to feed.

Participating Author Link

or

J S Morbius    Theresa Stuart

Naomi Shaw     AuroraRose Andromeda

Decadent Kane (Summer)
Raven McAllan     Brantwijn Serrah
Faberge Nostromo     Rose Anderson
Doris O'Connor

Ray Sostre

Dariel Raye

Thursday Tasters, February 13, 2014 ~ Liayama's Fury

This is a short Taster on a piece I started some time ago. Once you read my Taster, please visit the other participating author's who are offering you a tidbit, a taste, of their works-in-progress. You can follow the link below.

The premise is that a woman is in labor in a ramshackle tarpaper shanty during a horrible storm in a small South Georgia home. She is alone except for her young children, who fear for her life as her screams grow louder with her contortions, contractions and blood. The storm, and Liayama's screams, mask the sound of three men who enter through the front door. The men bring awful things to the vunerable inhabitants of the small poor home. This story is about Liayama's revenge, Liayama's Fury, though it takes decades after their murderous assault to exact the bittersweet success.


Acknowledgement ~ Google Images
Liayama's Fury

The wind, in crushing anger, swept in crashing swirls around the low country shack the small family called home.  The children, huddled in the semi-darkness on a mattress in the corner, clung to one another in fear.  The screaming howls were just as loud inside the little house as outside and the children cried in panic for their Mama who lay across the room screaming in pain.  The labor contractions seemed agonizing, worse this time than the three times before she brought her other young ones into the world.  The screams and cries both inside and out of the tarpaper shack wracked in mounting, rhythmic harmonic waves terrorizing the young witnesses within.  In the fury and the madness, the only sound that Kailynn heard was the ear-piercing wailing from her Mama.  She could not hear the panic screams and cries of her sisters or her brother.  She could not hear the leveling fury of the pounding rain on the thin walls of the slough country home nor upon the tin roof above the two room shelter.

Screaming above the thundering storm, Kailynn’s Mama held her belly and rolled in agony with another contraction.  Jumping to her feet, Kailynn ran to her Mama’s bedside screaming above the thunderous clap, what could she do to help?  Her Mama muffled a word in response wrapped in a wail.  What was that she said as she cried…..towel?  Kailynn turned to the sink and grabbed a clean towel from the shelf below and wiped her Mother’s face tenderly.  Her Mama grabbed the towel, wide-eyed and frantic then stuffed it into her mouth as she stared blankly, wildly at her young daughter.  Bearing down hard with the contraction, her face turned red with pressure, her eyes bulged, her neck thickened, carotid arteries filled and pulsed as the veins in her face cut rivers across the landscape that was once her Mama’s beautiful features.  Kailynn took a horrified step back, unsure at only 10 years old, what she was watching and what she should do. 

Their Mama, relaxing after what seemed an eternity, tried calmly to reassure her daughter’s paralyzing terror while she had a moment.  She rubbed her belly gently and outstretched her legs, then rolled to her side drawing her knees up slightly as she was trying in vain to relieve the pressure in the small of her back.

Participating Taster Author Link

or

Karahuntington      Pablo Michaels

Rose Anderson      Michelle Howard

Naomi Shaw     Brantwijn Serrah
Decadent Kane (Summer)
Theresa Stuart
Aine Masse
Tempe O'Riley
   


 

Tantalyzing Tuesday Valentine's Day Blog Hop, February 11-14, 2014 ~ Old Lovers Valentine

Happy Valentine's Day

Our Valentine Blog Hop starts today!!! Today, I have written about old lover's heart songs, based upon the photo below. People don't stay married the way they used to when our grandparents and great-grandparents lived and loved. So many relationships have become disposal; there is no value in working to preserve a loving relationship, yet generations earlier, it was a forgone conclusion that you married for better or worse....not just better. I admire those lovers for those were true romances. Here is a short moment in a loving exchange between old lovers.

 

If you enjoyed this moment, please leave me a comment then hippity-hop over to each of the other blogs and read the Valentine's Day post, leave a comment and be entered to win, perhaps more than once!!

Acknowledgement ~ Google Images
Old Lovers Valentine

He leaned back, closed his weary eyes, relaxed with a sigh and rested against her heart. She slept, spent. He inhaled the comfort of her familiar ‘sweet strawberry’ essence in the rhythm of their shared breathing.

It was a lifetime and yet only moments…

The same errant curl, now with a little less spring, a little less luster and grey with time, fell to her forehead tickling her brow as it has always done. He reached to tuck the insistent ringlet from her face when their weathered hands touched, in the same well-known, well-loved spot.

"I didn’t mean to wake you," he whispered into the air embracing her.

"You didn’t," she cooed, "that ever damned curl did. If you hadn’t such an affinity for my curls, I would have cut them off decades ago."

"I will never forget the first time I saw those wild auburn curls. I remember thinking your hair sparkled in the moonlight and danced for play with the sun. But for that curl, would you change anything?"

She turned to him, held his twisted, polished hand to her heart and sighed.

"Don’t you know yet, darling? Though time has ravaged our bodies, my heart sees us only as lovers."

We cannot deny the strength of our desires

For we are the ones that seek the pleasure of the truth
 

 And when our bodies burn for one another

We cannot turn away

But fly instead into the center of the heat

For if we are burned, it will be because we sought
All that was real and strong and good

Because we knew the power of attraction and how we felt
As our flesh grew and yearned as oneSo do not fear that which we know is special
And do not turn or run from lust or love so pure and true

 

That would deny the essence of our beings
And keep us from the fire of truth we build

 

Participating Author Link