Category Archives: friday flash

Jawbreakers

Eliza dressed to the nines for Rafe’s events, he held her to his side and pictures were taken even though neither of them was big on them. Businessmen of his caliber were the object of paparazzi.

Laughter and small talk filled their entrance. Eliza talked to people who she only saw on these occasions, but who were basically best friends throughout them.

Onica was one of those, they laughed like teenagers while they caught up with each other. Eliza stopped laughing suddenly.

She turned and saw Oscar—and Sally. Quietly, she was pleased that Sally was seeing her all decked out and could see her appearance at her apartment was an aberration. But she did not know what Sally may have said to Oscar about their encounter, so she was wary.

Oscar walked over with Sally, who Eliza had to admit was stunning—as she had been when she visited her. Onica squeezed her hand and walked away, leaving her with Rafe. Oscar kissed her on the cheek, and Eliza was sure she was all colors as Rafe and Sally looked on.

“Have you and Sally met?” Oscar began gesturing for an introduction if needed.

“No,” Sally answered, and Eliza’s eyes widened. What? Why Sally lying?

Oscar pulled Sally to his side,

“This is my Sally,” he beamed holding Sally even closer if it was possible. Sally smiled, and looked at Eliza conspiratorially. Eliza smiled because there was nothing else to do, as she held Rafe’s arm.

“This is my husband, Rafe,” Eliza announced happily. Rafe shook Oscar’s hand, and then Sally’s.

The four of them stood there awkwardly as laughter bounced around them. Onica walked back over to them, and it was clear she picked up on something. She was very observant, and launched into a conversation about her teenage daughter and her escapades. Sally laughed,

“Sounds like my daughter!”

Eliza and Oscar turned to look at her. Her own skills of observation were enough that Eliza could tell Sally had not told Oscar about this daughter.

“Teenagers are a handful!” Onica continued. “This is Michaela.”

Michaela was a gorgeous girl who looked like her mother. Sally fiddled with her phone.

“This is Chloe, when she was a little younger. But this is her Instagram where the real pictures are!”

Eliza saw pictures of a young woman who looked exactly like her mother. Well the younger model looked more carefree, whereas her mother looked stressed and anxious. Oscar stared between the pictures of Chloe and Sally. Eliza wondered at how it was going to end that night for them.

Sally flashed to a picture of Chloe with an impossibly large jawbreaker in her mouth, and could not help but think how that image mirrored so perfectly the current tense situation.

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Rituals

It was their ritual, Sally would wait for Oscar in his lobby even though she had keys for his apartment and was practically living with him.

She worked from his place often. This evening, she was sitting in the living room staring out at the gorgeous view of New York City that she had from his apartment window. Oscar was very successful—he looked the role and his apartment looked the role. Even Eliza as his ex fit the role. She was often in the newspaper with candid pictures taken when she was with her wealthy husband.

Sally was not sure what her own life was like. She was here, but she felt like an interloper. This world that had become hers, with Oscar as her pass to everything.

When he opened the apartment door, she looked at him with dead eyes.

“You did not wait for me in the lobby,” he chided.

Sally stood up, and shook her head.

“No.”

Oscar looked at her and without words just held her. There was nothing for her to say to him, she was frightened and she loved him.

There were no words, only rituals to be maintained in the future.

Later

Sally pulled her hair to the side for Oscar to kiss her neck and he did, slowly. He nibbled a bit, and then fully sunk his teeth in. He bit her, but she could taste the blood—feel its warmth and taste the saltiness.

She was resigned, as he continued licking around the puncture making her aroused and terrified at the same time. Placing her hand on her neck, to feel the place where her skin and his lips met she startled.

Gasping deeply, Sally caressed her smooth skin and realized that she had been dreaming, knowing all of the symbolism too well…

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Open Invitation

Andres looked up and beyond Sabrina, as she looked up at him. She followed his gaze to a single red balloon up in the air, but she wondered if he was covertly looking at Gráinne and Paulo. She looked up at him again, and realized she was not breathing.

He did not look down at her, but his hand firmly gripped her shoulder. Feeling foolish looking at him when he was not looking at her, Sabrina turned back to the window where Gráinne was getting more than a finger from Paulo now. It seemed Gráinne too looked up at the red balloon, her legs creeping about Paulo’s as he moved in and out of her.

Sabrina could barely stand it, her own body on fire, and Andres just touching the surface. If someone walked into this house they would wonder at what kind of kinkery was going on there. With her and Andres as voyeurs, and Gráinne and Paulo fucking on the outside like their lives depended on it. Someone walking in might wonder if it was just a display, or an open invitation?

Andres still gripped her shoulder, as there was a blinding flash of lightning and the rain poured to punctuate its departure. Gráinne and Paulo were not deterred as they took off their suddenly soaking clothes, even as they continued to be joined as one. They removed damp clothes until they finally coupled completely naked by the poolside. Sabrina was sure there would be a bruise on her shoulder the way that Andres’s hand gripped at it.

At her.

Transfixed by the furious lovemaking that she watched and for once was not a part of, she licked her parched lips. Gráinne looked at Paulo with such fierce desire, it looked like she both wanted him and wanted to destroy him. His back was littered with scratches as she dug into it while they fucked. The rain stopped suddenly, and their wet bodies remained joined in the added heat and humidity.

Sabrina turned around, and Andres barred her from walking past him.

“What? What?” she questioned throughly frustrated. Even when she had been confused about what was going to happen with her and Gavin, she had not felt like Andres was making her feel now.

“Nusch?”

Graham’s voice echoed through the house, and everyone froze in place.

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Warmth

Jeanne arrived home exhausted. Her apartment felt soothing, as soon as she saw all of her vintage movie prints. Terrence had liked those when he first was in her place. When they first realized there was something more to them than just being there for her sister–for Eliza right after her accident.

She spent a lot of time between both of their places now because they had not moved in with each other yet. Jeanne was not sure that she wanted to, even though she was pretty sure Terrence would ask her soon enough. He wanted to take care of her–he was already.

Jeanne threw her things down and picked up her phone to text him that she was home. Still walking around with her phone waiting for his text back, she put a kettle on with hot water so she could have tea to soothe her before bed. She would spent the better part of the next day writing.

His text was almost instant, and he texted her the print she was looking at. The Carole Lombard one.

Along with the hot tea was a hot bath. The warmth of the rose fragrant water was a compensation for Terrence, so she had to keep adding warm water as she lingered in the bath.

From the mirror in the bathroom was a reflection of the poster of Carole Lombard getting a kiss on her shoulder, and Jeanne became lachrymose. What if something happened to Terrence on his flight back? What if she never saw him again? Carole Lombard had died in a plane crash on her way to see her husband Clark Gable after a big fight. She and Terrence had not fought, but nothing could be taken for granted. She missed him so much it was unbearable. Jeanne felt his lips on her and she remembered being in the dark on the road moments ago and him being there for her as much as he could be from faraway.

Why did love have to be so faraway? Why couldn’t they be together now?

Full tears from frustration streamed down her face, as Jeanne added more hot water to the tub.

She needed warmth.

More Friday Flash here, more about Jeanne here.

One Finger

Jeanne was drowsy from the conversation she had had with Sabrina on the road, but she was mesmerized by the emphasis on the one finger. It seemed like that one finger—well Terrence’s one finger—waved before her like the hand on a metronome.

She pulled over deeper into the blackness of the road. Terrence had become her new Scheherazade telling her stories while she was driving so she would not fall asleep. She did not, but she was so horny as he told her what he would do with his one finger that she was wet and sticky. The throbbing from within her made her need to touch herself.

“Are you still driving?” he asked her, and she shook her head then realized he was not there with her.

He was so often not with her that it was painful, because they were together but he was on the road all of the time. It was this particular work project that took him back over and over to Paris. Paris where he had worked with Eliza–where they had fallen in love. Where he was now with Lila—a woman who he kept encountering after a long, thankfully not fatal love chase but now only for work.

But he loved her, he told her he loved her and she loved him so hard what else could she do but believe him?

“No,” she said into the pitch blackness. “I pulled over.”

“I want to see you.”

“You will barely be able to see me, it is black out here. Completely black.”

“I want to see you.”

Jeanne used one hand to Face Time him.

She could see herself on the screen–she looked like something from the Blair Witch Project. Not as frightened, but a bit anxious and her face was damp.

“Where is your other hand?”

“You know exactly where it is, I am

using one finger…”

In the blackness of the night, one finger and Terrence’s encouraging face was all she needed…

When she came, a light flashed randomly on a house numbered 23…

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object to be destroyed via wikipedia

Open Mouth

Charlotte felt like Narcissus looking at herself, and the mirror she held was her body of water. Her body trembled from residual orgasm. She definitely preferred an orgasm with someone else—Harry in particular—but she knew how to work herself better than anyone else did.

Of course she only had to think about Harry, and she was wet. Her pussy throbbed, and she could not sit still. She was at the office so it was a bit daring, but she was so raw with lust she could not be bothered with that detail. All of the words on her paperwork blurred before her, as her desire became heavier and heavier.

Her hand slipped between her legs, she just pressed herself so she could stop the throbbing. Instead, her hand throbbed too and her fingers curled over her damp crotch. Feeling the wet spot, she picked up her phone and let it hover over her. She spread her legs wide, in front of the floor to ceiling window so she could see the wet spot and her glistening pussy lips. Charlotte almost wanted to go straight to video on her phone like a below average movie but she did not. She just intermittently took photos of herself rubbing her wetness, she was so horny she came after she just touched herself without anything at all.

Minutes later, she came again.

And again.

Swollen, open and wet, she slipped her thong over her thighs so she could take a picture of her still pulsing pussy.

Selecting all the photos she had taken–her fingers sweetly musky with her come—she sent them to Harry. Then she parted her mouth, and took a quick shot of her upper lips—equally swollen, open and wet.

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mouth via Rachel Kramer Bussel and Best Women’s Erotica!

Up Close and Personal

Jeanne started to miss Terrence more and more. Her love for him was solid, but he was away a lot. She did not mind if he was away as long as they communicated with each other frequently. Not all of the time she knew he had a job to do, and did not have time to play with her as much as she might want him to…but she loved the time he could afford her to say hey babe.

She loved when he Face Timed her, or when he sexted her saucily in the middle of the day.

Sometimes if she was working at home on an article she would send him a sexy pic, something to get him going but nothing as good as the real thing—she saved that for when he was with her. But when he was away more and more, she started to be more randy with her teasing.

The curated porn that she watched on Ogler really got to her, because it was exactly what she wanted from Terrence. At night was the hardest because she would really miss him in bed with her, and wanted him so much she could feel his body even if he was not physically with her.

He missed her the same way. They fell asleep Skyping, and she woke up and saw him asleep on the screen. It was such a closeup of him that she saw pores she had not memorized, and when he woke up he saw her. Seeing their faces so close was like porn, until they decided to push the limits of even that. She pushed the strap of her camisole down and he wanted to see more. Even though he was on a screen she felt so vulnerable because she had his full regard. He looked at her hungrily, like he had never seen what she was revealing to him. She wanted to see more of him too.

“I want to see your legs,” she said, and it felt brazen because they had been looking at each other so close up from only the chest up. But he sat up, and drew his legs close to his chest.

Her hand which was already between her legs, clutched herself even more. She did not play with herself, but seeing his legs was so intense visually that she clutched herself where she throbbed.

She was so hungry for him.

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retro photo via wikipedia

Rhythm

Jeanne stared at the painting across the table from her in the restaurant. The rhythm of the woman in the painting made her want to get up and dance, she was so excited to be at the table, because…

Terrence walked over to her with his suitcase on wheels. She leaped up like the woman in the painting, and wrapped her arms about him. He was equally graceful as he let go of his luggage, and wrapped his arms about her. His lips fell warm and soft against her neck, and made her tingle from head to toe.

She had missed him so much, and distracted herself with everything under the sun so she would not fall apart. It literally made her ache the more time she spent without him, and she counted the days and hours until they would be reunited. His body against hers now felt like heaven must.

Jeanne kissed both of his cheeks, and held his face in her hands while he held her hips. They swayed like their own dance for eternity, the spotlights from the restaurant shining down on them.

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rhythm via Mischa Eliot

Hello

The way that Mal pulled his long hair up, and looked at her Jeanne with an unmade face went through her entire body. His skin glowing but stark, let her know they were not what they used to be to each other. It was hard even though she knew it, she knew it but it was hard to look at him.

To know he was with Karys.

Jeanne remembered talking to Karys about him at Saturday and Sunday boozy brunches. Karys was not sure how she felt about him, but she talked to her about him and let Jeanne talk about him as much as she wanted to. When Mal gave Jeanne her necklace—her Fleur necklace—Jeanne had caressed it and turned it between her fingers nonstop, until she was afraid the gold would melt.

“Jeanne,” Mal said finally, and it was jarring because he had never really called her anything but Fleur. She remembered him drawing a black suds rose on her nipple in the shower. He had black soap in the bathtub, and the water had been gray when it washed off of them. “Jeanne.”

“It’s okay,” she said, wanting to touch his forearm but afraid to because she was not sure that she had the right to touch him anymore. “It’s okay.”

Jeanne wore her Fleur necklace. She watched as Mal reached for it, and turned the gold word slightly with his fingers. She could hear Adele’s song in her head, “Hello” and realized it was not too late for her to to say she was sorry even though they were torn apart. If she had called him, he would have picked up the phone because they still mattered…a little.

More Fleur Friday here, more Friday Flash here. Gorgeous Friday Flash picture donated via Candy Snatch, who you can read a guest post from here.

Love Meter

Karys finally was able to see Jeanne. While she noted that her friend looked apologetic about having been MIA, she was not even concerned about it.

She had her own issues.

Jeanne hugged her for a long time. It felt nice to be in her friend’s embrace, and smell her familiar perfume. She had a bottle of the same perfume of her own, because it smelled nice on her too.

“I missed you, and I have a been a bad friend!” Jeanne exclaimed, with a vulnerable smile.

Karys sat down, between her legs still deliciously sore from her lovemaking with Mal. They could not keep their hands off of each other. After the time in the bathroom at the restaurant, they had made love all over town in public and private.

She liked private best, because it was the most sensual.

He bought her a necklace with a butterfly.

“I feel like you are a beautiful butterfly that I caught,” he said, his lips on her chest where the necklace fell on her skin.

She fingered the tiny butterfly, as she looked at Jeanne. Jeanne leaned in, and Karys noted that the necklace that Jeanne wore that said Fleur that Mal bought her was not on her neck and that was something that she usually wore all of the time.

“Thank you, it was a gift.”

Jeanne nodded, as her mimosa was placed in front of her.

Mal had given Karys her necklace, draped over a cake with gold leaves for her birthday. She knew he had given Jeanne jewelry too, but when it was her she felt like she was the only one. He made her feel so special.

She was in love with him, and she did not want to give that up. What would she tell Jeanne?Jeanne sitting across from her sipping a mimosa, and looking in love herself?

Karys’s butterfly warmed against her chest.

If her love was on a meter…

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