Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, May 29, 2012 ~ The Madness of Sanity

Tuesday is upon us once again and I have a piece I wrote for a friend's, Ray Sostre, on-line magazine: AfterDark Online.  This is a bit of an excerpt, a teaser, for your pleasures. As you know, our Teasers are 200 words based on a photo of our choosing.  Today, I have selected a photo which waxes romantic and begs the introspective:  Is all as we remember, when love is gone? 

"Sanity may be madness but the maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be." ... Don Quixote
The Madness of Sanity
He was going to take her to the edge, to a special place, somewhere she had never been before. Quickly, he withdrew his thick cock from her.  Growling for her to lay upon the floor, his fingers played with her wet lips.  Her hands fell to the soft wet folds where his cock had been. She ached for his touch as she arched her back and begged release.

She opened her legs, dropping her knees outward to completely unveil her womanhood. She slipped her fingers into her silky lusciousness.  His lips touched below her navel. With his tongue tip he traced down to her wet petals, glistening with anticipation in the moon light.  Kissing her inner thighs he could feel her muscles flinch. Slowly his tongue licked the outside of her lips. Then he flicked her clit as he spread her hood. Her small hands wrap in his hair again as she arched toward his mouth.His warm mouth made an ‘o’ shape and sucked her clit into his teeth. Gently clenching her clit in his teeth, he rolled it while his tongue flicked it. She moaned and he licked her clit faster.  

"Please......" she begged breathlessly. "No..." he whispered, ".....not yet. I want to memorize your every curve.

Was it as she remembered, now he was gone............?


***
When you have exhausted with me, have a dip into the pool of my creative friend's clips, based on a photo of their own madness.......

Naomi Shaw: http://naomisfantasies.wordpress.com
Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/
Molly Synthia: http://mollysynthia.com
Leann Mitchell: http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com
Julez S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/
Venus Cahill: http://venusbookluvr.blogspot.com
Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.com
Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/
Angelia Dawson: http://angelicadawson.blogspot.com
Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/
Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com
ER Pierce: http://erpierce.com
Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com
Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/tantalizing-tuesday-5/
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com/

Saturday, May 26, 2012

An Erotic Tribute ~ "A Veteran's Memorial Day" 2012

Memorial day was first celebrated on May 30, 1868. It was observed by placing flowers on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers during the first national celebration. Gen. James Garfield made a speech at Arlington National Cemetery, after which around 5,000 participants helped to decorate the graves of the more than 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers who were buried there. Memorial day is a great way to remember our patriotic heroes who sacrificed their lives to help us breathe the air of freedom. This day is observed with families and friends visiting cemeteries and memorials to pay homage to their loved ones.

“Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.”

–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


A Veteran's Memorial Day

She walked into the lounge and looked exactly the way she felt: wet, mean, and thirsty for a dirty martini. It was pouring rain outside, so she was soaked. Her long auburn locks were wet, plastered to her head, accentuating the beauty of her hazel eyes. Her boss had made a pass at her, so she was pissed at him and at all men. And she was thirsty because of it. It was dark when she opened the door to Luke’s Lounge. Sophia stood in the doorway-dripping wet as her clothes hugged the curves of her body. The door closed while her vision adjusted. There were no seats at the bar open, which pissed her off even more. She walked over to the widest spot in the crowd and leaned over the bar to order a drink from the bartender. A Marine seated at the bar stood up to offer her his stool. She was impressed by his kindness. He waved at the bartender and let Sophia settle in while the bartender took her order.

“A dirty martini, bone dry, up with olives,” she told him.

“Happy Memorial Day. It’s Happy Hour—two for one,”  replied the bartender.

“Even better,” she told him. “Bring ’em on and keep ’em coming.”Sophia turned to the Marine and said, “Thank you for the stool. After tonight, I thought chivalry was dead.” She turned to fish for her wallet in her briefcase. When the bartender brought her drinks, she put out a twenty-dollar bill and nodded at him. She closed her eyes and took her first sip, feeling the warmth of the drink fire through her body, inch by inch. She always savored that very first sip luxuriously. It was like a lover’s hands sliding down her body, igniting every inch as they felt their way to her toes, leaving her in their molten path eager and hot for more. As she reveled in her first sip, she turned to the Marine. “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. What is your name? May I buy you a drink?”He looked at her and blushed slightly. “Darrell Jonas. My friends call me DJ. Yes, thank you. I‘m enjoying the smooth pleasures of Southern Comfort Manhattans.”

Sophia waved to the bartender to get DJ another drink and they both laughed. She noted that he was yummy good-looking in his uniform. She was a sucker for a hunk in uniform, going weak in the knees and wet whenever she met a Marine that appealed to her—and he did.

Immediately, Sophia felt conspicuous about her appearance. She was soaked to the bone and her hair was still dripping wet. And, she was getting wet in her hot spot, just watching DJ finger his cigar. She downed one of her drinks, excused herself, and exited to the ladies' room.
She immediately removed her wet trench coat and went into one of the stalls. She could feel her mounting passion. It could have been the result of a culmination of things, but it was there nonetheless.
Her boss had made a pass at her; the “Silver Fox” had rubbed her leg along her inside thigh when she’d asked for a transfer. She exploded with anger, but had to control herself. She did not get to where she was by allowing impulse to guide her career.
Sophia’s father had had a heart attack. She had thought it out and decided that a move to the Atlanta office would be the best place for her career to flourish, and she could spend more quality time with her dad and she wanted to be closer to him. Pushing thoughts of the move from her mind, she turned her focus to DJ at the bar and that passion welled up again.
Passion was passion no matter the genesis. It was a fiery feeling that needed expression and release. In the stall, Sophia raised her skirt and put her hand up her slip. She moved her red thong out to the side as she searched for her honey spot, now wet and eager. She knew this would not take long; so much had happened to her already tonight.
Her head relaxed to the wall and she began to finger herself rapidly as she thought about DJ holding his cigar and the size of his hands. God, he was handsome, tall, and virile. She wondered about his cock. Was he circumcised or did he have a turtleneck sweater? She smiled and released a slight giggle. Was he long, thin, short, thick, wide and flat, bushy or trimmed? How did he smell—like a warm musky forest after a light rain or like boot leather? Did he like briefs or boxers? Oh, God, maybe a thong—was she going to be able to get her hand in his pants tonight?

Oh God, oh God, she could feel the earlier anger redirecting energy to her clit as she became more and more aroused at the thought of DJ in his Marine Corps uniform. She was adept at fingering herself and she wasted no energy now. She began to moan and move with the rhythm of her hand and fingers. She released her neck muscles and her head rolled to her shoulder, then to the other shoulder. She could feel it all over now, everywhere. She was getting more and wet with each stroke. Damn, she wished she had her finger vibrator, but she only carried it when she travelled. She would have to rethink that strategy another time.

She moaned, gyrated, clinched, and quivered. She moved in harmony with her passion, her eyes closed imagining DJ, and then raised her foot to the seat in the stall. She spread her legs giving her hand full open access: Oh, what a vision she would have been to anyone who could have seen her there behind the stall door. She was hot and coming soon.
She looked sublime, dressed in her Brooks Brothers suit, silk blouse, and matching red silk undies. Her thong and garter belt allowed her full access to her clit and pussy. She loved “dressing for success” because she always felt superior to all the other women, and most of the men. Aware that people looked at her as if they wanted her made her feel even better and gave her an intellectual, emotional edge.

She began to come in her hand: two fire-red tipped fingers plunged inside of her pussy and her red-tipped thumb found the pearl of her existence. She worked herself into frenzied hot passion as she imagined DJ kissing her and holding her breasts, pinching her nipples, bending to suck her areolas and bite her nipples. Her hardened nipples made an appearance under her silk blouse.
God! Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . .  She released a moan as she gripped her thighs tightly together, pushed, quivered, contracted, and came. She stood like that for a few seconds then relaxed as she rotated her head and released her neck muscles. She felt like a new woman—a woman who could devote some quality time to the man at hand: DJ. The anger brought on by her boss’s fated pass was a distant memory.

***

Sophia emerged from the ladies’ room looking like a redheaded goddess, to DJ’s eye. It was a wonder to him what women could do to themselves in a few short minutes. She had walked away looking like a soaked kitten and came out looking like a jaguar: stealthy, confident, dry, and beautifully put together, practically floating across the room to her stool at the bar. He could not take his eyes off her and he was sure that she knew it since she was looking him square in the eyes as she approached. DJ turned, cast his eyes shyly down, and took a drink from his Manhattan. He was beginning to think he might need a few more of these to muster up the courage to talk at length to this woman. When she arrived, he stood and pulled the stool out for her. She actually blushed. He thought maybe she felt the chemistry between them, too, but of course he could not have known she had just finished fingering herself to orgasm in the ladies’ room.

Sophia sat and turned her attention to DJ. He felt conspicuous and hard. He puffed up just a bit and asked her the most mundane question: “What do you do for a living?” he asked.

“I am a Regional Director for Honeywell. I just had a meeting with my boss, who made a crude pass at me. Needless to say, I am not too happy with men right now. However, I can see you are a gentleman, and in uniform. I am a sucker for a good-looking man in uniform,” she added. She took another drink from her dirty martini as she gazed squarely over the rim of the glass at DJ with her hazel eyes.

DJ felt his cock grow between his hard thighs. Oh boy, he thought to himself, I gotta cool this down or I am gonna come in my dress uniform. She was too hot to touch, he thought, and she smelled like sex. Oh, boy, it has been a while, he thought as he dove virtually into the beautiful emerald pools that were her eyes.

He could not resist his impulse and put his hand on her long elegant neck then moved her lush, wet, curling hair aside. He clasped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. In one smooth movement, he stood and pulled her face to his lowered mouth, planting his full wet and eager lips on hers. He kissed her as deeply as he had ever kissed anyone in his life. He did not care where they were or what her reaction would be. He could apologize later, but for now, he had to kiss her, taste her, and touch her. His cock responded accordingly as she moved to be close to him, an unexpected move for which he was unprepared. His right hand found the small of her back, pulled her even closer and up so that she could feel his hard cock against her taunt, curved belly. The bartender arrived and asked if they wanted another round, to which they both responded a quick and nervous, “Yes, please!”

***

They spent the remainder of the evening locked in interesting conversation. He talked about his life and his R&R from a twelve-month tour of service in Afghanistan; she talked about her life and job. As they spoke, Sophia felt more and more sure that she knew him, and when she asked, “Where is your hometown?” he answered, “Fairfield,” a small town not too far that she knew very well.

 “Did you go to Valleyview High?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And you graduated in ’87?”

“Yes.” He looked at her, perplexed.

“I know you,” she purred, unaware of how softly she had spoken. She smiled thoughtfully for a brief moment and added, “I thought I recognized you when I walked in but I was so upset, I gave it little more thought. I know you from high school. We graduated together in 1987. Your moustache threw me, and you have … changed.” She smiled and then snuggled into his chest and under his willing arm. “So, hi, remember me?”

He looked at her seriously now after drawing away from her. He saw it in her face and eyes, but not her hair. Her hair had been long and straight in high school, but now it was curly. He commented that her hair was different. 

“Yes, my hair is naturally curly, and getting it to be that straight in high school is a secret I will take to my grave. But, suffice it to say, it was a royal pain to sleep on beer cans at night!” she laughed as she hugged him with a huge embrace and an affectionate kiss.

“Let me get this out of the way,” she said. “Being born and raised in the military, with a father and two brothers all in different branches of the military, permit me to say: Thank you. Thank you for your service to our Country. Now kiss me again, Marine, and welcome home.”

Conditioned to following orders, DJ did so with a smile. They spent the next four hours until closing in rapt conversation, laughing, touching, exchanging life stories, and drinking. DJ lit a cigar and Sophia thought she would come from the mere honeyed odor of the burning leaves. The smell reminded her of her sojourn in the ladies’ room earlier, so she told him how it made her feel.

“DJ, I have to tell you something, and I have had just enough to drink that I think I can do this now.”

“Okay,” he answered quietly, gazing into her eyes seriously.

She told him what she had done to herself in the ladies’ room earlier, as the slight smell of vodka and olives on her breath escape from her full, ruby lips. He was mesmerized by them as they moved with each word and syllable. He was getting hard. She described in detail exactly what she had done, how she felt, and how it had made her feel when she immerged from the ladies’ room: strong, powerful, in control—HOT. He was rock hard remembering how she looked when she immerged from the ladies’ room—and how she smelled of sex.

***

Interrupting their shared gaze, the bartender hollered, “Last call for alcohol. You don’t hafta go home, you just gotta go. You can’t stay here.” People started to shuffle around, collecting their things, and leaving. Sophia and DJ had just gotten fresh drinks, so they had a few minutes to whisper and touch before they would have to leave. Shortly, the bartender started turning on lights and flashing them dim to high. That was the message that before too long, they would stay on. Sophia and DJ were unconcerned. They had nothing but one another in their shared gaze. DJ broke the gaze and took Sophia’s elbow, saying, “We’d better leave before they have us arrested.” And they smiled knowingly at one another.

***

It was still pouring out, the rain forming a deluge from the roof-line spouts. They dodged the force of the water and headed for DJ’s vintage Porsche 911. It was parked in the back of the building, as he was one of the last to arrive at happy hour. She was soaked again and the matted, wet curls which framed her face, almost intentionally, made her look even more beautiful. The brim of DJ’s dress hat protected his eyes from the rain and he stared at Sophia for a long moment as they stood in the rain. He slowly put his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as he could manage. He opened her trench coat, and then his, and he pressed their bodies closely together as he kissed her deeply, again. Sophia felt his cock; she knew she wanted him right now. She could tell he wanted her. She dropped her hand inside his trench coat and felt for his fly. As she unzipped his trousers, she met little resistance and DJ’s eager penis cooperated—fully engorged. As she rubbed his stiff and growing manhood, he dropped both hands down the long, lean curves of her body to her slim-line suit skirt. He started to tug at her skirt. As he pulled it up where his thumbs caught the hemline, Sophia wiggled in cooperative delight and eagerness, kissing him all the while, as she rubbed his stiff shaft and felt his hardening ball sack. It was heaven.

His hands continued up her thighs, the hem of her skirt hooked in his thumbs, as he raised his hands over her garter belt, nylons, and her exposed thighs. The trench coats were both open but provided some privacy for the lovers as did the darkness and the late hour. Darrell lowered his mouth to her neck and sucked and licked his way to the small of her neck where the fragrance of her perfume was the most exotic. He felt a jolt pulse through his body, ending in his cock. He struggled to control himself. His hands made it to her bare ass and he was shaken again by the pure sensuality of this lovely creature.

He grabbed the thin bit of silk fabric her thong provided and pulled it to the side as he lifted her up his body to his waist. He slid her down slowly onto his penis, where she settled herself over his engorged and eager cock. He nearly exploded, but she stopped and gripped him tightly with her pussy as she controlled herself, too. Her head fell backwards as the weight of her body felt suspended in air. The rain kissed her face with each drop and gently moved her tousled locks from her face. She had moved one hand to the back of his neck now, where she dug her ruby red nails into the collar of his uniform and trench coat. He envisioned the two of them from afar and the image was erotic. He released a murmur into her hair at her neck. She cupped her other hand around his testicles as she lovingly squeezed and massaged them to produce their bounty. He gently laid her onto the 911 as her legs remained clasped around his waist. He released her legs and brought them up to his shoulders, which gave Sophia the freedom to move her hips to her will. She gyrated her hips and clasped him tightly from within. She could feel him deeply, so deeply inside of her that his cock pounded against the wall of her hot pussy. She felt him grow with each thrust until she thought she could not stand another moment. And then he stopped.

She begged, in a quiet whisper, for him to continue. He murmured into her hair as he fell upon her on the vintage car. Then, with a sudden fierceness, he moved—and moved and moved. Both of her hands now clenched his trench coat: her red nails dug into the damp fabric. She was lost in wild abandon, no longer in control of her own body. She quivered, contracted, pushed, and grasped his hard shaft with all her internal might. As she began to come, she opened her eyes to watch Darrell. She released her hard grasp on his trench coat and caressed his back, gently, through the trench coat, as though they were seasoned lovers. God, but he was handsome. As he stood back up to come, she moved her legs to around his waist again, where she could pull him tightly to her passion.

***

She was wet, hot, dripping with her own love juices as he slid in and out of her. She watched. It was so sexy that she started to lose control again and she could feel his hand on her pearl. Her clit was rock hard and stretching for attention from more of his hand. He opened his eyes so he could watch her, too. Her hair, spread over the hood of the car, was wet and thick. She was so beautiful and he did remember her from high school: aloof, proud, seemingly so sure of herself. However, she never dated. Why, he wondered? Had she been lonely, too? Oh, God, he should have asked her out. They could have been doing just this for years had he. Nevertheless, he had not. And he couldn’t think anymore. He could not wait a moment longer: he held her thighs and pulled her repeatedly to him, over and over and over. He felt her coming again, too, and he released all of himself into her loveliness. They watched each other come, grasping, clasping, and clinging to one another.

“Happy Memorial Day,” he whispered into her hair at her earlobe.

“Finally,” she whispered back, smiling, and they kissed.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Flash Fiction Friday, May 25, 2012 ~ The Road of Destiny

Edited 17 August 2013.......Today is my late friend Tim Zahurones' birthday. As a tribute I am reposting the short farewell piece I wrote last year in his honor. Join me in remembering a wonderful man, father, son and brother to us all.......he loved Eric Clapton music, as do I:

Today is 100 word, no more nor less and inspired by a common photograph, Flash Fiction Friday.  But this is not fiction.  My friend died unexpectedly on May 16th in a car accident in Wisconsin, I just learned today.  He was a friend of distance, born in life loving his family, friends, women, music and art in all forms.  While we never met, we loved.   Not one another, physically, but Mother God of Life: all knowing, powerful, forgiving and loving who embraces each and everyone, filling us with joy, hope and passion for those we choose to include and love on our path to destiny.

Tim loved my work, my writing and shared my artistic appreciation of the body created in God's own image.  In that way, he loved me, encouraging all that I did through his enjoyment and pleasures.  I am sorry he is dead.  I am sorry we never met.  But, I am not sorry to have known him and brought him whatever happiness I could.  So this is a small tribute to my friend, Tim Zahurones, who enjoyed Eric Clapton, lived, loved and indulged his life in Summit Lake, Wisconsin.  We were joined in our passions and our bittersweet pursuit of La Joie de Vie.

The Road of Destiny

The road, once bathed in illumination and life, now dimly lit by the faint and flickering past, was not chosen.  This road to the darkened nowhere takes us from the heart-warmed embrace of life and loves against our will, but not unknowingly.  This road awaits us all, but for some, the path at once sweet is bitter and too eager to rise before us.

Some turn back to cheat this darkened destiny, but others fly willingly into the black grasp.  Cherish life: the hope, challenge and rewards She bears are the fruit of your breath.

Not so, my friend.
Be free……………….


Good-bye, Timmy. Your life lingers in my heart.


***

Now, please visit my author friends and have a taste of the life they breathed into this photo, from their perspective. 

Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/
Patricia Logan http://naughtypassions.blogspot.com/?zx=d735233d541ad690
S. J. Maylee: http://SJMaylee.com
Savannah Chase http://www.savannahchase.com/blog
ER Pierce: http://www.erpierce.comKendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com
Sherri Hayes: http://sherri-hayes.blogspot.com/
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Cassandre Dayne: http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/
Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.ca/
CyrilJ. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca/
Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Oysters & Chocolate, May 23, 2012 ~ The Storm

  ‎"The Storm", one of my published short stories, is available on-line at Oysters & Chocolate, the premier site for all things erotic. ♥  Please read, rate and comment about "The Storm". ♥

OV •.¸¸.••.¸¸.•♥ and yummy kisses

Muffy


The Storm

It’s a violent morning. The sky is a curious blend of clear and sunny to the east, but dark grey, black almost, and foreboding, to the west. In between the two, where these contrasts collide, the wind is furious and hard, screaming while it squeezes through the lanai screens. When the sun tries to rise, the color is alarming, frightening almost. A blast of yellow, orange, and red ignites the sky, preceding the wind to its fury. The thunder rolls, claps, and explodes, announcing the rain that will inevitably arrive. Morning is night again. It is black and the sounds of the impending storm are at once loud and silent, rolling and violent, calm and relenting, intense and penetrating, yet forgiving—all around stifling, overwhelming. The noise is curiously sexual as the rain begins to fall, hidden in darkness. The sky is giving up the bounty of life.

It is a fine day to stay inside and make love, eat grapes, listen to Johnny Mathis, laugh, and drown out the day’s violent awakening with the music of our beating hearts. I think of you, roll to look at you, and am happy my day starts in your arms. It is a love story that begins anew this morning, gaining strength throughout the day, not unlike this storm. I am hot for you, and I stretch my arms toward you.

But as I roll to face you, to swim in your gaze, the heavy fog in my head begins to lift and I realize with a start that you are not here. You will never be here again. It was always so easy to look toward our tomorrows because our todays were filled with one another. Our lives were interlocked in a love that seemed like it would transcend our future. And then in an instant, the comfort and security of two hearts beating as one was lost—forever. And this is how the new days of my life without you begin: dark, ominous, and foreboding.

I stare, emptily, out of the hotel window. Black and grey envelopes everything; I can’t feel anything. I feel unanchored as I float in this sea of darkness; lost, alone. Then I remember the events of the past few days—how quickly and disastrously they unfolded. You were gone to me and everyone who loved you. You left without having the chance to say goodbye; you were snapped out of our lives, as if some payment to the Gods was long overdue. I will never touch your cheek again—not in this lifetime. My heart breaks for the thousandth time and I finally begin to weep.

I weep for my loss, for myself, hoping the tears will keep me company and give me comfort. They do not. I cannot call you back into my arms, nor can I drown the longing with my tears. I know people wondered why I didn’t cry at the funeral. We never cried, you and me. Our life together was joyful and loving, a shared unity of thought and reason, purity and passion, the familiar love and hate. Mostly love. . .


 Continue to "The Storm"..............


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, May 22, 2012 ~ Flame of Hunger

Tantalyzing Tuesday beckons once again.  Today a sultry, sexy seduction explodes into unbridled passion eager for fulfillment.  Would you be as patient for your lover?  Would you wait for the Flame of Hunger to extinguish of it's own eager embrace or would you seek out another, available for more frequent liasons?  In only 200 words, no more no less, see how this photo, a selection from my very romantic friend, Ferry Golden, has inspired me.  Then, take a leisurely sojourn to my flash friends to see what they crafted on this very sexy Tuesday.  They are listed, one-by-one, below my piece.  Enjoy.  Wrap yourself in the seduction of the flames....

Flame of Hunger

The moon sliced a path of golden white across the bay waters to the boathouse, to where you would find me waiting, as I did, for you every Tuesday. I cannot deny you. The flame of hunger burns hollow in my belly until sated by the passion for you that I endure.

I hear your approach on the footpath.  With each step, my heart skips a beat.  I rush to meet you on the landing.  Too long apart and too eager to wait, your arms find my body, your hands my auburn curls and you crush your trembling mouth on mine. Tongue seeks tongue, in a magical foreplay of molten twists and turns, sucks and plunges. My knees betray me and I crumble into your impatient embrace. You catch my descent and ease me gently onto the walk, whispering your love for me.

Touch me. I arch my back into your hand, my body pleading for your mouth.  I open my knees baring the home of my passion: wet, yearning, quivering. Without pause, swiftly, you thrust your fevered shaft into my body, filling my need. Until, replete, we lay listening to our one heart, beating with the rhythm of the surf.
Oh, so sweet the rain droplets on my skin where your fingertips left an impression.
***
Have a peek at my saucy, steamy playmates and enjoy the fantasy read they have written for your undeniable pleasures:

Naomi Shaw: http://naomisfantasies.wordpress.com
Julez S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/
Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com
Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.ca
Venus Cahill: http://venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca
Molly Synthia: http://mollysynthia.com
Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/
Kharisma Rhayne: http://www.kharismarhayne.com/
Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/tantalizing-tuesday-4/
ER Pierce: http://www.erpierce.com
Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/
Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca/
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Cassandre Dayne: http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/
Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/
Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com/
Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Flash Fiction Friday. May 18, 2012 ~ My God Has Answered

So, today I am continuing my humble tribute to Mother's Day.  I know it is a few days later, but, what's not to love about Mothers?  Yours, mine and ours in any shape, size and form are the keepers of love in abundance.  And, as you will find in this flash, they are the embodiment of love...in anyone's body.

This photo was selected as this week's inspiration piece and several of us crafty writiers must pen a story in only 100 words, no more nor less, based upon the same photo.  I hope you enjoy my take on this wonderful photo.  When you are through reading my dedication to Mother's Day, please swing by and see how the photo inspired my cohorts by hitting the link Flasher Fiction Friday or do them one at at time (what fun!!!) listed below.  But first, you do not have to be religious to have a pleasant read and enjoy         My God Has Answered.

My God Has Answered

When the mass was discovered in Ty’s sister, no one thought for a moment it was a baby. But, she was there: growing, thriving, moving, beautiful ... and right alongside a mass discovered at the same time.  Adult Hodgkin’s Lymphoma: treatment was radiation with a 75% cure rate.
The baby wouldn’t survive.
Sissy, refusing radiation, chose life for her baby and a home with Ty and Zach.  Sissy prayed Ty would agree to take the child as his own. 
But, at what price? he asked his sister. 
At any price, she replied.
She was named Liana, meaning “My God Has Answered”. 

Amen...

***
Now, be good friends and go have a joyride in the fabulous flashes of my purient partner's fertile imaginations.  Cut loose and enjoy the spin.  Go on, now go:

Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/
S.J. Maylee: http://SJMaylee.com
Gemma parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Jp Archer http://jp-archer.blogspot.com
Naomi Shaw: http://midnightfantasieswithnaomishaw.blogspot.com
Kendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com
Savannah Chase http://www.savannahchase.com/blog
Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/
Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca
Lisa Worrall: http://lworrall.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, May 15, 2012 ~ Spring of Life

Here we are, another Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser in  the offing.  I have taken a bit of a departure from my normal erotica in an effort to celebrate Mother's Day, not only for the close friends and writers (you know who you are!!) I hold dear that are currently pregnant, but for all the Mothers who have gone before with whom we can no longer share their joys.  It seems fitting, so soon after the most celebrated day of the year, that we pay small homage to the women, all the women, that have loved, been loved, and have nurtured us in our lives.  So, I hope you enjoy this small tribute, to all Mothers, yours and mine and all Mothers to be.  You are treasured...and blessed.  Happy Mother's Day

Spring of Life

Darling:

The sun split the morning darkness over the Bayou and peeked into our bedroom, awakening me.  As I left our bed and opened the French doors, the fragrance of the morning air embraced me in your absence.  Taking my coffee on the veranda, I looked about the spring of life, abundant around me and I felt the stir.  The honeysuckles, azaleas, wisteria and, of course, roses were in full bloom.  The bouquet created a heady aroma that tempts ladybugs and hummingbirds into a delicate dance for a petaled kiss.  I am missing you so, my darling, but feel your presence all around me, within me.

The hot morning and sultry humidity leaves a glisten of moisture on my skin, like a soft kiss, your kiss.  I hear the bayou lap gently against the jetty, awakening all to her embrace with a rhythm not unlike your touch, as you would stroke me, easing my body into the day with your love.

Each too short day was filled with passion before you left, but not before you gave me the greatest gift. This gift of life so dear, so treasured: a wellspring of our love.  I am a mother.  And you, the father, my love.
 
Amalya

***

Now, please do yourself a wonderful favor and go visit all my talented teasers and read their posts.  You will be heartily entertained, perhaps even alittle aroused.  How bad can that be?  But, first, please leave me a comment below and let me know what you thought of my Spring of Life.

Naomi Shaw: http://naomisfantasies.wordpress.com
Lee Brazil : http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com
Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/
Julez S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/
Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/
Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/tantalizing-tuesday-3/
Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.ca
ER Pierce: http://www.erpierce.com
Ray Sostre: http://theafterdarkworld.blogspot.com
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Jp Arhcer: http://jp-archer.blogspot.com
Leann Mitchell http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com
Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca
Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/
Molly Synthia: http://mollysynthia.com
Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/
Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/

Once Upon A Time In America | Ennio Morricone