Ficlets
After posting The Kink Meme, I kind of got on a roll.
I snagged it from karaokegal, and ended up writing her a Heroes ficlet
What Happens in Tijuana
Daddy can't hold his liquor...Claire smiles. Her ovaled lips skim the silken flesh of his dick, teasing the skin just below the fat cap of the head. Her tongue traces the white line of scar tissue caused by circumcision and she lets her mouth envelop the smooth shaft. She sucks at it, short bursts of air pressure punctuated with tongue strokes until she successfully coaxes Nathan's dick to a 90-degree angle.
Chalk it up to urban legend that a guy can't get it up when he's drunk. Of course, he's pretty out of it...he won't remember being sucked in the morning. He won't remember that his little girl has made a personal acquaintance of the seed that spawned her. He won't remember how she writhed on his erection until she was satisfied, then left it to wilt, because he won't remember it anyway, so why bother? He won't remember. She'll never forget.
***
And then I wrote one for my own list, #'s 14 and 95
Light My Fire
The woman reclines on the bed, breathing heavily. She doesn't react when he clambers out of the snarled sheets and begins to pull on his clothes. He drags the jeans up over his bare butt and snugs his belt tight. Pulls the "Eat Your Kill" tee over his head---right side out, which is a wonder considering how fast he'd yanked it off in the heat of passion. One arm of his plaid flannel shirt is inside out, and he studies her as he works it into place. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and there's a dazed smile on her face.
He stomps his stockinged feet into his boots, doesn't bother to lace them up. He needs to finish what he started and get gone. Damn, he's been a widower too long---although he can't fault himself too much for their interlude. He enjoyed it thoroughly, and she's not moving, just lolling back against the pillows, not even stirring when he grabs the gas can and splashes its contents across her, the bed and around the dingy cabin.
Not many men his age can screw a succubus into the mattress, Bobby Singer thinks as he stands in the doorway and strikes the match. Good to know the spark is still there....
***
I snagged it from karaokegal, and ended up writing her a Heroes ficlet
What Happens in Tijuana
Daddy can't hold his liquor...Claire smiles. Her ovaled lips skim the silken flesh of his dick, teasing the skin just below the fat cap of the head. Her tongue traces the white line of scar tissue caused by circumcision and she lets her mouth envelop the smooth shaft. She sucks at it, short bursts of air pressure punctuated with tongue strokes until she successfully coaxes Nathan's dick to a 90-degree angle.
Chalk it up to urban legend that a guy can't get it up when he's drunk. Of course, he's pretty out of it...he won't remember being sucked in the morning. He won't remember that his little girl has made a personal acquaintance of the seed that spawned her. He won't remember how she writhed on his erection until she was satisfied, then left it to wilt, because he won't remember it anyway, so why bother? He won't remember. She'll never forget.
***
And then I wrote one for my own list, #'s 14 and 95
Light My Fire
The woman reclines on the bed, breathing heavily. She doesn't react when he clambers out of the snarled sheets and begins to pull on his clothes. He drags the jeans up over his bare butt and snugs his belt tight. Pulls the "Eat Your Kill" tee over his head---right side out, which is a wonder considering how fast he'd yanked it off in the heat of passion. One arm of his plaid flannel shirt is inside out, and he studies her as he works it into place. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and there's a dazed smile on her face.
He stomps his stockinged feet into his boots, doesn't bother to lace them up. He needs to finish what he started and get gone. Damn, he's been a widower too long---although he can't fault himself too much for their interlude. He enjoyed it thoroughly, and she's not moving, just lolling back against the pillows, not even stirring when he grabs the gas can and splashes its contents across her, the bed and around the dingy cabin.
Not many men his age can screw a succubus into the mattress, Bobby Singer thinks as he stands in the doorway and strikes the match. Good to know the spark is still there....
***