Friday, October 31, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday, October 31, 2014 ~ A Black Stallion of Men

Flash Fiction Friday and here I am barely out of bed after the Halloween costume party.....Oh, I see they have been up all night and just gotten into bed! Let's see what this is all about, in 100 words or less, of course.

Please visit the other participating authors and spread the love. Comments are most appreciated.

Enjoy ~  ☼ o√ ¸.¨¯`*..*˜"*°
A Black Stallion of Men
It had been a great party. There’d been good food, great music, plenty of ass and rivers of whisky. The Halloween party had been a roaring success. Walking around all night with two of the men’s heads in one or another’s ass had their heads swimming in pheromones in the Black Stallion costume.

The men were hornier than Hell as the moon set into the dark recesses of the night.

They fell into the king-sized bed like a train of pull-toys. As long a there were no petty jealousies, they could live as brothers….and lovers. No one would ever know.

Could they share.....without a whinny?

© Muffy Wilson

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Thursday, October 30, 2014

A Taste of Thursday, 30 October 2014 ~ Taylor Savior "An Indulgence of Burning Flesh"

Ahhhhh, Thursday greets again in the embrace of our reunited lovers. This is a peek into my work-in-progress for Decadent Publishing due December 4th. I thought I would jump ahead to a flashback. A little bit of steamy sex is always good.

So, once you are through reading my sample, slip over to our group and visit all the other participating authors at the link below, or just visit them from my page. They are all listed one-by-delicious one like shots on a bar ~ ready for you!

Enjoy ~  ☼ o√ ¸.¨¯`*..*˜"*°

Read Previous Installments here:
First    Second     Third     Fourth     Fifth     Sixth     Seventh     Eighth     Nine     Ten     Eleven     Twelve     Thirteen

An Indulgence of Burning Flesh
They slept deeply, wrapped in the warm security of each other’s arms and legs. The rise and fall of their breathing was rhythmic, in harmony with the single heartbeat of love that they shared so unexpectedly. Their lovemaking opened the door to another plane, a level of consciousness Aynne had never experienced. She tingled with life all over her body, every pore an independent explosion of sensitivity and feeling. She wanted more; she felt alive. She slipped under his arm to escape his embrace as he slept. She padded softly, barefooted, to the bathroom. She closed the door gently, quietly as the tumbler fell into place and latched. She drew a bath which she enhanced with the salts and oils provided by the hotel for guests. She was exhilarated, aloft in love, on the wings of a snow white dove, she hummed softly to herself, smiling, or perhaps a black dove, she thought delightfully.

Aynne toe-tested the water beneath the blanket of aromatic bubbles and, as it was perfect, she slid like molten wax along the side of a candle from the edge into the steaming water. She released an involuntary ahhhhhhhhhhh as she settled into the silken water, enveloped in nothing but fragrant pillows of soothing bubbles. She closed her eyes and simply inhaled the perfumed heat surrounding her. Tipping her head back upon the bathtub rim, she felt the water rise and fall around her breasts with each satisfied breath. As she became more aware of the sensations assaulting her tingling, burning flesh, she gave herself over to the indulgence. Somehow, the night had changed her; she felt different.

Aynne was a woman.

She slid under the level of the water, and submerged herself fully into the awareness of her womanhood, and held her breath; nothing stirred, nothing fluttered, nothing moved - trapped in time for her to savor. She felt a symphony of fingertips flitter along her right breast to her belly and settle on the rise between her thighs. When she rose for breath, from under the water’s velvet surface, she opened her emerald eyes to see Simon perched on the edge of the tub with nothing on but a gleaming smile.

Her skin glistened from the bath salts and oils. He reached for her neck to caress her head as she broke the surface. She was slippery and warm - a temptation of sensual delight.

“I am sorry Simon; did I wake you drawing the bath?”

“No, darling, the chill that filled your absence and stole your heat woke me. That, and I heard you humming.”

© Muffy Wilson

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Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, October 28, 2014 ~ Holly Does Halloween


It is Halloween Week and Tantalyzing Tuesday. How can anyone resist the combination and total indulgence those two evoke? I can not so I will not.

We each select a photo that inspires us and in 200 words or less write a piece of entertaining flash fiction about the photo. Easy-peasy, but not always. Here's mine. Have a quickie read and then dash over to the other author's offerings and indulge yourself all over again. They are listed like bats hanging from the rafters one-by-adorable one, of at the group links scattered like candy throughout the post.

Enjoy ~  ☼ o√ ¸.¨¯`*..*˜"*°

Holly Does Halloween
The sky, a deep yet vibrant hue of blue-black, was motionless under the shaded moonbeams that stretched across the silent landscape. Nothing moved, nor made a single sound. The crickets and whippoorwills, the oak leaves shed by weeping branches heavy under autumn clouds and tumbled broken twigs all lay still as though paralyzed by the silence.

It was the kind of hush that demanded a quicker step of purpose and determination to speed the arrival of one’s destination safely, yet perhaps still slightly unnerved.  Casting an anxious glance over a slightly quivering shoulder aided in the speed and lightness afoot.

It was as though an uneasy spell had been cast like a spider’s web over the chilled and barren earth as the night deepened to a purple velveteen backdrop. The mute shadows greeted the hocus-pocus of traditional three foot goblin trick-or-treaters who threw ridicule and humor in the face of the power of death. 

And then there was Holly…

No one does a stick like Holly. Even since she was a little girl, she just had a knack for it. And it showed in how she handled…and enjoyed...herself on All Hallows Eve.

The night had long since lost all mystery.
© Muffy Wilson

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Friday, October 24, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday, 24 October 2014 ~ Perdition

Flash Fiction Friday! Again! Why it feels just like yesterday when we were tickling your fancy with a flickering flash. Well, you know the drill: a bunch of pervert writers have to write a short 100 word flash based on the photo below...and we all have to use the same photo. So each of our takes will be different. But, I promise you, they will be wildly different, based upon my past experience with this group.

So, here we go. Down that slippery slope we call our imaginations. Holding hands and skipping along the way with our twisted Muse. So...one, two, three.....weeeeeeeee!!

Enjoy ~  ☼ o√ ¸.¨¯`*..*˜"*°


Perdition
The tumblers of the lock fell into place softly as he twisted the key and opened the creaking cellar door. The light knifed through the darkness, bathing her face at the mirror. She was ready, prepared in the dress he gave her to wear: crinoline and laces, satin and ribbons, but no panties......still.

You!

How long had she been here, stolen from her life, in this velveteen prison? How long would she have to endure, to pretend...to…to...want him?

"Yes, my beloved..."

How long would she have to welcome his twisted affections? 

“May…I…be…of…service?” 

Oh, God.......please.

Find me, her silent tears prayed…









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Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Jock by Blak Rayne ~ October 25, 2014

The Jock
by
Blak Rayne
(@BlakRayne)

‘Time is evanescent. Memories are forever.’
Stuck in a traffic jam on the highway, in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave, Adrian Greene has more on his fevered mind than praying for rain and getting home. With little else to do, his thoughts stray to a better time in his life—his youth and an adventurous three years spent with his first boyfriend. If there’s one thing he longs for, it’s a chance to relive it all.

Excerpt:

I avoided Tim for days afterwardthe cafeteriaanywhere I happened to see him, or hear his voice. Until we met up in science class and I had nowhere left to run. Mr. Gilchrist wouldn’t allow anyone to swap partners, even though I told him it was a life-or-death situation. He just glared, pointing to the back of the classroom. I edged along the wall, avoiding everyone’s prying stares and slumped into the chair next to Tim, dumping my notebook on the table.
“It’s been a while,” he murmured, below the teacher’s announcements.
I refused to answer him and took out my pen.
“Sooner or later you’ve got to speak to me.” Sitting erect, he flipped open the science book. “We’re partners and we’ve got a project to do.”
He placed the book between us, and his hand brushed mine. I flashed a timid grin at him and he smiled. Why did he have to be attractive and the sole object of my carnal desire?
We read the next chapter in the textbook and discussed what we’d do for the project. The time went quickly, and before the class ended, we were putting together the fragmented pieces of our friendship. We talked about our parents and music, and sports, not that I had any real interest, however we did avoid the “lump under my chip bag” topic.
The bell rang.
Tim shot to his feet and slipped me a piece of paper from his notebook. “Read it when you get home.”
“Huh?” I started to unfold it and he snatched it from my grasp.
“Didn’t you hear me? Not here, Adrian, okay?” He glanced about, lowering his voice. “Promise me.”
“Ah…okay.” I stuffed the paper in a rear pocket.
“See you tomorrow!”
And with that, he was gone like a bullet, the first out of the classroom. Guys didn’t write guys notes, not usually anyway, so naturally he’d piqued my curiosity. Floating from the room wearing a grin, I wove through the oncoming maze of students. Outside, my mother had parked along the curb, across the street in the shade of a maple tree. She waved and smiled.
“How was your day?” She started the car.
“Good!” I clicked the seat belt and then lifted my rump to get at the note. Apprehensive, though eager, I unfolded the lined piece of paper.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, just a note from a friend….” I read the first couple sentences and my cheeks flushed. Even though the majority of Timothy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was almost impossible to decipher, ‘fondle your balls’ came across pretty clear. 
She glanced at me. “It must be somethingyour face is red.”
Scrunching the paper, I laughed nervously. My groin ached with sexual arousal. “It sure is hot in here!”
“Is it?”
“Oh yeah, I’m boiling, Mom.” I fanned a hand in front of my face while stuffing the paper back into my pocket.
“Well, turn on the air-conditioning.”
Fiddling with the knobs, I asked, “Is dad home yet?”
“Tomorrow night, honey. Remember?”
“That’s right, ” I said cheerfully. “It’ll be nice to see him.”
“It will be.” She kept her hands at ten and two, never deviating. “You know, you should invite that boy over for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Boy?”
She laughed, dithering a little over his name. “Tim, I think. You said he’s new to the school and doesn’t have a lot of friends yet.”
I thought about the letter and whether it would be a wise idea. “I don’t know if he’d want to.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”


Blak Rayne
'Taking erotic to a sinful new level...'
About the Author:

Blak Rayne is a published author of gay erotic and yaoi style fictional romance. She loves to write and believes it's one of the greatest forms of self-expression. What better way to see inside the human soul?

Blak resides North of Sixty, and yes, she is a woman, wife and mother. She’s been writing and drawing since elementary school, and she loves anything that involves the arts. As for family, her daughter is her toughest critic and greatest support!

Now, for the real biography....

A good friend, who is an aspiring author, happened to mention that she likes to read author bios, and when she checked mine, sadly, she was disappointed. The bio I use is generic, blah, and it doesn't tell her anything personal about Blak Rayne. Her suggestion. Change it! What she really meant to say: "I want to read the juicy bits, lady!"

Okay, the truth. My life is crazy hectic most days as I divide my time between family and friends, writing and marketing, running our businesses and household. I spend an average of eight to twelve hours a day on the computer. No,  lie.​ After quitting smoking years ago, I've become even more of a health nut than before. I exercise every day; I have to or else I'll wind up with a fat ass! I'm one of those people who will read the labels on every food item they purchase. LOL

My favourite drink while writing is a homemade chai tea latte. Well, tea period. Must be the Brit coming out in me. When I relax, or we have company over, I usually indulge with a glass of Japanese plum wine on ice, of course.​ My entire office is purple, even the carpet. I find the colour calming, and it gets my creative juices flowing. Love it!

Currently, I reside in British Columbia, Canada with my husband, our daughter and son. Our eldest son passed away; he's not with us physically, but he is in spirit. My daughter owns a cat that is the moodiest creature you'll ever meet. Seriously, the foul little beast still swats at my legs when I don't pay him enough attention.

What else can I tell you? Lots of things, but the most important tidbit, I'm passionate about my writing and plan to continue publishing. How many novels? Who knows, I guess until the ideas run dry, or I die.

Happy Yaoi Hunting!
Blak Rayne

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A Taste of Thursday, 23 October 2014 ~ Taylor Savior "Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences"

Where are we today, on today's offering? Well...for 1) Thursday Taster... 2) Work-in-Progress... 3) A too long excerpt. I shall keep my intro short since I ran way over, but where to cut?

Lots of wonderful writers are offering up a sample from a current WIP. Please go read and comment or their work. A little encouragement goes a long way. The links are all over and they are also listed like painful tears, one by one below. 

Enjoy ~  ☼ o√ ¸.¨¯`*..*˜"*°

Read Previous Installments here:
First    Second     Third     Fourth     Fifth     Sixth     Seventh     Eighth     Nine     Ten     Eleven     Twelve


Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences
 “Finally, I am to gain her love. Not that I would not want more love in my life, however, why is that necessary, Aynne?”

“Because if she does not love you, Simon, she will never allow you to help her. She is hard to explain, but she does not want pity or handouts. She cannot be manipulated, even at ten. I have raised her to be too strong, I’m afraid, and prepare for a world in which she will have to take care of herself, to be anything she wants to become. It seems I didn’t teach her how to be graceful yet, in the face of her special needs. Ever since she was diagnosed with SCA, she has been involved in her recovery, long-term management and control of her anemia. The control gave her strength and a sense of responsibility in partnering with her medical team managing her healthcare. The authority, however veiled, seemed wise at the time since my parents were gone and she didn’t have any other family but me. What would she do if something happened to me? We – I – had to think in those terms early on. Oh, God Simon….what if…if…”

“One-step-at-a-time, Aynne. If I’ve learned anything at all in the last six years of my wife’s battle with cancer, and her subsequent treatment, it was to take everything ‘one-step-and-one-day-at-a-time’.”

“Of course, you are quite right. I have been. It was the only way I could make it through the long days of treatment and diagnosis. My resolve, however, seems to have weakened, not strengthened, in your presence. I have no doubts about your charm. I think you accomplished all three of those tasks with me before we had even spoken a single word. Certainly, after we did speak I trusted, respected and loved you almost immediately – even if it was only for one night.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t for just one night since we are sitting here, together ten years later, right now.”

Aynne blushed at the assumption that there was more to their relationship than that one spectacular night together lost in each other’s dreams of passion. “If you get that far with Lily, Simon, that is really only the beginning. You’ll have to be tested to see if you are a match and if you are then you will need to be prepped for organ extraction and live donor surgery.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Aynne, I…I…”

“I know, Simon. I know.”

“I have a family…”

 “I know.”

“…children of my own and a dying wife that needs me now more than ever. My children know their mother is dying, that it is just a matter of time before they lose her forever. They need me now. Doing this will cause them to think that they may lose me too."

 “I know.”

“I can’t think of jeopardizing their security, their courage, their happiness all of that and more for …”

 “I know.”

“I, I’ll have to think about it.”

“I know, Simon. I understand; I really do.”

Aynne began to weep silently. Finally, unable to hold the tears back against the strain, the pressure, the singular responsibility of Lily’s life that she held in her hands, she was overwhelmed. It was too much for some couples, let alone one woman. She felt the weight. She felt the burden. She felt the pain of it all, the decade of doctors, medical clinics, and specialists – lonely tears. She felt the unfettered voluntary yoke of love.

“Aynne, please do not cry, not now – please. We’ll feel like we are doing something if I get tested. I can do that here in Chicago, first. That is one step, let it be the first step, in the right direction. If I am not a match, everything else is moot and Lily won’t have her hopes built up  only to dash them. We will have to figure something else out. Let me do some research. Please, please…stop crying. And let your doctors know to release any necessary information about Lily to my physicians and we’ll take it from there. Okay? Please, please don’t cry. We’ll figure this out, we will; I promise. And we’ll do it together. Lily is, after all, my daughter, too.”

His confident reassurance unlocked the remains of her resistance. Aynne dropped the cup and saucer on the Oriental carpet and she felt even more hopeless, more helpless. Simon rose and in one swift moment, he was at her side. He gathered her in his arms and she allowed him to collect all of her fears and emotions in a single commanding embrace. Everything raced back to her in strobe-like speed and flashes from the one night they spent together in the candle lit, flickering shadows of an old historic hotel. She crumbled to his will in his firm and reassuring grip. The burden under the weight of the unintended consequences of their shared passion at last shared.

“Yes, Simon. Lily is your daughter, too,” and Aynne wept, helplessly.

He let her weep as he supported her weight and she restored some strength. He cooed softly into her hair as he stroked her, inhaled her essence, and comforted her as she regained her composure. The distance, the years, the separate lives vanished and they were swept back, back into their suite at the Hotel Whitcomb, Room 457, riding the glittering stars and the glistening moonbeams as they swirled and rose around them with the ebbing flow of their love. She was lost in her love for him, again and still, as she knew she would be if she ever saw him again let alone share a single breath and heartbeat.

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Once Upon A Time In America | Ennio Morricone