Thursday, February 27, 2014

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

Monday, February 24, 2014

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”


Friday, February 21, 2014

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.



Monday, February 17, 2014

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.



Thursday, February 13, 2014

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.


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.


Tuesday, February 11, 2014

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


Friday, February 7, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday, February 7, 2014 ~ The Music of Life

I just simply LOVE this photograph which is today's Flash Fiction Friday subject photo. The musical notes and butterflies rising from her back suggests awakening Mother Nature to me. How does it move you? It must, it so did me. As you know, our group of awesome authors get a photo prompt to write a 100 word story each week, no more no less,  I have done just that below and if you would be so kind, I would appreciate your thoughts in comments.

I have one more favor to ask of you: please visit each participating author at the link below or listed like mourning doves, one by unique and beautiful one, below for an experience in reading you will not easily forget. Thank you for gracing me with your visit, your encouragement and support. Have a wonderful day...xo

Acknowledgement - Pinterest
The Music of Life
She woke, gently, in the garden and embraced the solemn, twinkling quiet. She rolled to her side, dug her fingertips into the soil as if to clasp a lover by the hair and whispered sweetly to the life rising from the green satin folds, long reaching bark stretched towards the warming rays and the waking, fluttering amber leaves surrounding her. Early birds rejoiced in song as the dying phosphorous moon settled along the horizon in a soft wispy grey farewell.

The sun rose delicately, praising Nature, and the world awakened to the music of life, for yet another blessed day.

J S Morbius     Naomi Shaw    


Thursday, February 6, 2014

Thursday Taster, February 6, 2014 ~ Compound Interest

This is a group for writers who want to show short excerpts of their awesome work every Thursday. All genres permitted and a comment on each others work will encourage everyone to keep going with WIP's. Our blog is Thursday Tasters so please visit our link to view the excerpt's of the other participating awesome authors.

Today is a reprint of a Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser that I have been asked expand into a full story which I have decided to do. See what you think and let me know by leaving me a comment below the individually listed participating authors links before you leave me to read their posts. Follow the link in the title to the original post for comments.

The Senator-Elect’s wife walked into the room with an air of confidence and gardenia. Standing in silk, satin and Versace, she started to remove her kid gloves, a look of distain casting a dark shadow over her beautiful Mediterranean features.

“Bobby”, a deep breath of ill-placed privilege followed.

“Peaches….” he smiled with assurance.
“I am addressed as Mrs. Lancaster, now, Bobby. What do you want?”

“I want the return-on-my-investment. And I am here to collect it.”

“You can’t possibly be serious. ”

“You must think I am…you’re here,” he replied, crossing his legs.

“It’s been….How did you find......?” a small crack in her voice revealed the broke, pregnant college freshman she once was.

“……twenty-one years. Does it really matter?"

Bobby rose, closed the distance between them in but a few long strides, and sighed. He placed his long black fingers at her throbbing, alabaster temple and gently pushed the soft-auburn curls from her face then traced the elegant curve of her cheek down her face, along her jawline to the hard-pounding, heated pulse in the small of her throat, where he placed his thumb. She flushed with panic.

"You owe me $350.00 and twenty-one years compound interest. So….it’s you or a Senator.”

Participating Authors
Aine P. Massie      Rose Anderson    

Monday, February 3, 2014

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, February 4, 2014 ~ The Sanity of Madness

Tuesday is upon us once again, tantalyzing, seducing, haunting and hypnotizing . This is a bit of a saucy teaser, for your prurient 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 an introspective question that rises and falls with the grey mist of reflection: Is all as we remember, when love, leaving it's fiery fingerprints on our flesh, is gone?

Please have a sweet read and when you are exhausted with me, leave me a comment below and have a pop over to all the other authors for a peek at what photo inspired their 200 word missives. You can find them listed below like wispy, yearning dreams, one-by-one, or you can visit our Participating Authors page link.

"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 Sanity of Madness
Standing, he took her to the edge, to a special volcanic place inside, somewhere she had never before been: fiery, impatient, burning, yearning. Quickly, he withdrew his thick cock from her velvet folds clenched tightly around his length and laid her upon the floor. His fingers pinched her hard outstretched nipples. Her hands fell to the soft wet crease where his cock had been and her back arched into his touch as she moaned.......

".......more....." quietly.

She dropped her knees outward and offered herself completely then slipped two fingers into her silky lusciousness. His fingers joined hers entwined inside her juices. His lips touched below her navel; his tongue traced down to her glistening petals, swollen with anticipation in the phosphorous moonlight. Her muscles flinched eagerly.

Slowly, his tongue parted her lips then he flicked her clit as his thumbs spread her hood. Her small hands clinched his hair. His warm lips sucked her pearl into his mouth and he rolled it between his teeth gently while his tongue strummed it like a fine instrument.

She pleaded, breathlessly.”Please......"

"No……....not yet,” with a low throaty growl he whispered, as her scorching release threatened.

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

Participating Authors

Deborah's Theme ~ Once Upon A Time In America | Ennio Morricone