Non.

Ah oui mon amour.

Prende moi… maintenant !

Fuck !  Things shouldn’t be this difficult in life.  Didn’t you see the weather repot?

There we were.  Trapped.  My love with me.

Good god, save me.  I pray to you my lord.  No, seriously.  I pray for this storm to last.  I grasp, I plead, I beg to you Grace… deliver me.  Take me,  body, soul, life.

Let the rain purge my sin while I find new ways to define what sin means.

I began to pray again…

Dear god of storms, let this man, my love, my life be reborn when he enters me during your thundering rain.

Give me this.

Back to business as usual now.

Regretfully I missed last week’s Flash Friday Fiction, but I’ve had a chance to look over the other posts and invite you to do the same.  Here’s the link…

Before I let myself go into to great a rant, let me first show my respects for the death of a great, sexy mag that died a sad and pathetic death this week due to… well due to what?  I don’t get it.  I want to blame their marketing, but more I want to blame their market.  If you missed out on the short life of Scarlet, you can pick up on what happened here.

Rest in peace and let’s hope Harlot can pick up the pace a bit and fill the void.

England is playing like France.  In other words, shite.   He’s literally off his mind at this point.  His anger is red and raw.

I’m red and raw.  With wanting him.  Wanting him to see me.  Want me.

LOOK THIS WAY FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

I hear the ref sound a whistle and leave the room.  I’m thinking a change of clothing might bring my man around to me.  Then, in a flash, I decide clothing wouldn’t, but the lack of clothing might.  So I strip and rub myself down with the cream he gave me from l’Occitane.   That fresh smell mixed with my scent that makes his knees go weak.

England misses a chance at a free kick.  He’s screaming.  I’m desperate for his attention and his anger.

He screams again when Rooney misses a chance at a goal.  I’m cold.  The windows are open.  I pull my coat over me and rest in a chair waiting.

LOOK!

He doesn’t look.  The match ends.  He’s near tears.  I’m near tears myself.  Then, finally, he looks up to see me… waiting… and the full-fevered anger meets me.

All of him.  For me.  I’ll take it all.

Fuck the England squad, and fuck me you filthy perverted man.

(click the text below)

This one wasn’t that bad.  At least he had a bit going on downstairs.  Granted, I had to lead the show, but that’s what it’s all about.  If you want the new stairs put in by the weekend, you’ve got to do what a girl’s got to do.  But god help me.  He fancies himself a romantic.  He thinks we’ve got “a right cool thing baby.”

What he doesn’t know is I’ve got the plumber waiting.  His turn next.

At the next roundabout she whipped her car around and headed back fuming.  In normal circumstances it could have waited for the morning, but she’d taken Friday off for a long weekend away so she wouldn’t be back until Monday.  The report would be late and she’d be in trouble.

Waving her badge at the security gate she waited for it to open then went in and parked up near the door.  There were only a few cars left so parking was unusually easy.

Cate stormed back into her office throwing her bag on a chair and turning on her computer.  She didn’t bother turning on the office lights.  This wouldn’t take long and there was enough late day sun coming in.  Her door swung almost closed automatically.  She generally pulled a small box in front of it to leave it open, but couldn’t be bothered.

Her office was a bit of a fishbowl with windows all round.  Cate had taped scientific posters to the window looking toward the open-space office shared by the technicians.  It gave her some degree of privacy and there was enough space between the posters for her to still see if someone was heading toward her door.

The bloody computer took ages to restart.  Dinosaur of a machine as it was.

She eventually pulled up the report and re-read it to look for obvious mistakes.  It had been put together as a team and as if often the case, there was part in present tense and part in past.  She began correcting.

While she saved the document in a pdf format for sending she heard voices and peeked between the taped posters to see who had come into the open space.  It was Marie and Lucas and they were arguing.  They obviously hadn’t seen she was back because their conversation was quite heated and quite personal.

“When are you going to tell him?”  Lucas demanded.  Tell who?  What?

“Lucas.  It’s not that easy.”  Marie pouted.  Oh, Marie.  Her beautiful blondeness and blue-eyedness.

They were young.  Early twenties at most.  Just out of university.  They had obviously just left the lab as they were both still in lab coats.  Marie hopped up on one of the long work tables and Lucas stood in front of her as she wrapped her long legs around his waist.

Marie and Lucas?  Well I never.  They’ve never given the slightest hint.

Cate quietly typed a message to her client, attached the file and hits send.  She wasn’t sure what to do then.  If she left her office she’d startle them and they’d be embarrassed.  If she turned her monitor off she could just sit here quietly until the left.  That’s what she decided to do.

Lucas was now unsnapping Marie’s lab coat while Marie looked around panicked.  They still didn’t see Cate who was getting progressively titillated.  Marie was a pretty young thing and Lucas had a bad boy look that she found magnetic.  Lucas pulled open Marie’s coat pulling it off of her revealing her little lace top.  Cate got comfortable.  She had a perfect view.  This is much better than porn.

“Lucas!  Not here.”  Marie protested.

“Then where?  You’re going home to him.”

Oooo.  The plot thickens.  Marie has a him at home.  Little slut.

Lucas is fumbling with Marie’s breasts trying to coax one over the top of her bra.  Nice.  Very nice.

There’s something sweet about their youthful sneakiness.  The pair isn’t world hardened yet and it shows.  Lucas has a greedy grabby way about him and Marie’s too inexperienced to call him on it.

Marie attempts a second protest but it goes right past Lucas as he goes for the string at the top of Marie’s trousers and unties the bow that holds them up.  Marie looks over her shoulder towards the corridor like a frightened rabbit while lifting her ass to allow Lucas to pull down her trousers and panties.  He pulls them all the way off and over her feet.  Silly boy.  Very imprudent move. Again, a sign of their inexperience.

There obviously wasn’t going to be much foreplay.  Shame.  Lucas is looking to get off quickly.  Marie looks as if speed is of the utmost importance, not her orgasm.  She wants to appease the upset Lucas and get away.  Home to him?

Lucas undoes his own coat then his belt and jeans pulling them down to his knees and turns Marie around bending her over the desk.  Cate grins at what a sight it would be if he suddenly had to take off in a run. Poor darling! His lab coat wasn’t open enough for Cate to see what caliber he was packing.  Come on… give us peek.  But no.  It wasn’t to be.  He’s inside Marie in a flash and Marie cries out.  Lucas quickly puts his hand over her mouth.

“Quiet Marie.  Do you want someone to know we’re here?”

He’s slamming into the girl who has a pained expression on her face.  Must have something going on downstairs.  But… she’s looking this way.  Or is she?

It’s over in no time.  A quicky?  Or is Lucas trigger happy? Cate decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and thinks quicky.

Marie looks near tears.  Lucas pulls out and turns looking around for a tissue.  Holy Shit! Cate is gobsmacked.  The boy is double-barrel loaded.  She feels sympathy for Marie’s pussy.  Who would have ever guessed?

The pair dress without speaking.  Marie looks flushed.  I’m amazed she can stand thinks Cate.

“I’m going now.  Talk to him.  Tonight!”  Lucas tosses his lab coat over a chair and grabs his backpack before heading out.  Marie takes her time.  She folds her lab coat neatly over her own chair.  She sits at her computer and begins to type.

Bugger, Cate thinks.  I really need to get going.  She still needs to shut her own computer down and can’t do that without turning the monitor back on.

Marie is now walking out and Cate, relieved, turns her monitor back on and begins shutting down the system.  An email has come in.  She reads it quickly.

“Enjoy that?  Have a nice weekend.  See you Monday.  Love, Marie”

The cheeky little minx!

Here we go.  First my headline:

Passionate explorer of planet earth.

Yeah, that oughta do it.

Now, about me and who I’m looking for:

I’m a libertine slut who masturbates regularly and I will learn how to make you scream. I need a man who can take me three times a day and slap me hard if I refuse a fourth.  He must not shy away from a bit of rough play.

I’m a happy, independent woman with a strong sense of how to have a good time.  I’m up for pretty much anything truth told.  I’m looking for a guy with the same who can too.

This next bit could be slightly tricky. In my own words:

I like the hedonist life and can take on as many men or women you throw my way.  My twisted and perverse mind never stops.  And I don’t give a toss about your mates, your family, your job or any of your various boring hobbies.  And if your profile mentions your mother you can fuck off right now.

I’m a sociable, energetic and open-minded girl that enjoys sport.  I’ve been told I’m quite creative and have a unique way of viewing things.

What I like to do for fun:

BDSM

Inventing creative new games

My favorite hotspot:

Xstreamparty Amsterdam

My local pub

One of my favorite things:

Your cock in my mouth

Interesting food

My last read:

Molly Weatherfield’s Carrie’s Story.  Look it up fuckwit.  You might learn something

The Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

Close enough.

* Submit  *



It had been a tame affair up till now.  Graham’s mother managed to keep her shaking under control.  No screams.  Not once did she blurt out, “WHY HER?”  Her darling son had never, to this day, disappointed her.  But the day he walked in the house with Marcy, the “artist”… well,  she never!

Ended too was the marriage once Marcy decided, after a few too many glasses of champagne, to do her interpretive dance “What Marriage Means to Me”.

You see, as experienced as my darling man is, he’s never had sex in a car so I’m taking him Dogging.  Great plan, eh?

OK.  There is a tiny flaw.  We can’t do it anywhere around mine so that means my car is out and he doesn’t own a car.  Can you go dogging on a bike?

I think I should ask for some advice.  Any doggers out there?