NEW! Writers Challenge!

[elbiscayne]

Nah, goading won't work. As EL said, you'd never catch us in a cat fight. A sexy romp, probably, but never a catfight.

Hmm...there's a story!

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Quiet Cool, that was fun! I have to ask: were you writing from personal experience?

Lou

Personal experience? Yes, no, and maybe. lol
It seems likely it was the choice I didn't make not long ago. Might very well be why she's the ex now.

Nice writing everyone. Might see if I can dig up another one.

Q_C

 

[elbiscayne]

New Man, Old Story

It never changed. Headache, tired, too late, too early, too many excuses to list here and still make a reasonable story. She refused to discuss the situation; looked at me like I was a pervert.
I tried whatever I could think of; changing after shave, shaving before retiring, advice from men's and women's magazines, being more attentive, devoted, caring; not one of them gave a glimmer of hope. A physchiatrist suggested Prozac. I ask you, why would someone want to feel better about not getting laid? The man is definitly overpaid. Like Bugs Bunny would say, "What a maroon".

Yes, she would relent at times. Does 'Once in a...' paint a picture in your mind? She would appear as a queen gazing down on her minion. I never saw any passion in her eyes, only mercy. I began to detest her mercy more than her 'no, no, a thousand times, no'. I removed myself from her bedroom and slept in the guest room. I felt some satisfaction in that...it was my way of saying no.

Masturbation? Lonely temporary relief. Not having a fantasy, it became a chore. It made what I was missing blink like a defective neon motel sign...'Vacancy...Vacancy'.

Divorce? Not an option. I wasn't raised that way. 'Till death do us part, meant just that. Now deat...but no, I wasn't raised that way either. Locked in thrall to obligations and legalities.

I tried to find solace in the Good Book. I threw it across the room. So and so begat so and so...even holy people were getting laid, and to add insult...they enjoyed it!

In the end, I did what I should have done at the start. I talked to the bartender at the local tavern. He introduced me to one of his lady patrons with a similar problem and inclination.

She is a sweet, caring woman; quick to smile and fond of an embrace. We have developed a small passion for each other, and explore its depths and boundaries at every chance.

She has a wit beyond compare. After relating parts of this story to her, she had an idea. We drive until we find a motel with only one room left. We stand together looking out the window and watch as the sign changes to 'No Vacancy'.

What a priceless devil she is!

elbiscayne

 

[English Lady]

elbiscayne another good'un! I love the development of the character and the last line is classic

 

[Guest]

500 words exactly. maybe a bit early to be writing but heres my little contribution:

Succulent So-fist-ication
His days as a post-production, productionist were over. Amos had to find a new job and quick. The offer to move to Mexico and earn a few pesos a day, left a bitter taste in his mouth. The upper management fuckers had decided to move the manufacturing plant out of the country to save a few bucks. To Amos, this seemed ridiculous. After all, the materials they used for the silicone dildos were mined in America.

He was screwed. There were only two companies that specialized in dildo manufacturing and now, with one of them gone, his chances of upward mobility were trampled thoroughly.

He decided that he needed to make a change in his life. He decided to go out on a limb and begin his own company. He had plans, hopes, and dreams. No one could keep him down. If Phillip De Brassier could invent the bra, he certainly could invent something just as magnificent.

After much toil, plenty of sucking up, and a loan from a some what questionable source, Amos had what he needed to begin his new company. He had infiltrated the vast array of companies that made sex accoutrements and lured away the finest designers. He would dominate the dildo world, of this, he was sure. His nefarious plans were in motion.

Sure his new edible dildos were questionable, but if he didn’t pursue it, someone else would. Some of the ingredients were illegal and the red dye #5 had been known to cause brain damage, but he was sure that could be over “cum”. Besides, people ingested things that were bad for them on a daily basis. The cotton candy/ meat and gravy taste would be hard to define.

What to name his new invention? He needed a catchy turn of phrase and this seemed to be the hardest aspect as he was a bit of a tongue-tied geek. Delicious Dildos? No, too ineffectual. Palatable Penis? No, too high-brow. Succulent So-fist-ication. Perfection, personified!

The first day that his edible dildos hit the market had been a banner day, indeed! His profits were ‘ass’trinomical. His mirth and merriment knew no bounds. Amos was on his way to becoming the world’s foremost leader in edible dildo production scene.

A new year had begun, a new career and a pathway to sexual superstardom had open its arms and embraced Amos. From his back woods apartment, he now began his second plan; How to attack the upper management fuckers and make them suffer.

And this, my children, is the beginning of the end for poor Amos. He hadn’t learned that being happy with what you have can take you a long way. No, his bent for other peoples destruction lead to his own. The people from whom he borrowed money were actually undercover FBI agents who were quietly obtaining information about the ingredients in the edible dildos. Amos was arrested and tossed in the pen forever bending over to search for the soap. I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson from this story.

 

[English Lady]

lovely story with a grand moral too vella

 

[Guest]

lovely story with a grand moral too vella

you are far too kind...im far too ditsy and this morning my fingers seem to have taken over
whatever i come up with is truly out of my control. my disclaimer...*grin*

 

[English Lady]

vella...well I am still impressed even if only your fingers are to take credit for that little snippet

 

[Guest]

vella...well I am still impressed even if only your fingers are to take credit for that little snippet

thank you, sweet lady.
and now, for something completely different
i must be productive. so, off am i...i think.

 

[elbiscayne]

lovely story with a grand moral too vella

hahahaha!!!!

Not enough sleep...and a song came to mind...

Dildos eat dolt, and mares eat oats, but little lambs eat ivy...

thanks! now going to pound my head on the desk, maybe it will go away!

great story!

elbiscayne

 

[Guest]

hahahaha!!!!

Not enough sleep...and a song came to mind...

Dildos eat dolt, and mares eat oats, but little lambs eat ivy...

thanks! now going to pound my head on the desk, maybe it will go away!

great story!

elbiscayne

LOL nutcase~
thannk god i only know that tune in passing or id be hitting my head on the desk too!
i need all my little grey cells to function as marginally as i do, thank you.

 

[English Lady]

A NEW bump


It still smells musty and paint tinted. It still looks massive and echo-y, although now some of my "well loved" old furniture is scattered around the place; interspersed with New Argos and Ikea flat packs of varying sizes and purposes.Home sweet home.

Well least it soon will be. I felt it as soon as I entered through the flaking pained red door and into the spacious magnolia living room. This was it. This was my place in the world. I paid a fair few grand more than I should have to secure such a basic shell but I was buying a part of me and so parting with the money was the easy part.

Parting company with my husband of ten years was not so easy. He was not willing to be shaken off. It took a half hearted affair and mediocre sex with a boy half my age in the marital bed before he agreed to dissolving our contract and letting me be free.

Free was not something I was used to. From Mums house to Married home I'd never been free or alone. Freedom is a wonderful thing but the loneliness thing is starting to wear thin now. I never thought I would miss his irritating snore or the way he rustled his paper. I never thought I would miss dirty socks strewn across the bedroom floor or his shoes left in front of the fireplace. These things, these marks of another human being sharing my space are what I miss.

I don't know if I am ready to get used to new socks and shoes and noises but it does not stop me occasionally longing for what I used to have. This is a new home, a new start; This is new and it is as scary as it is exciting.

 

[elbiscayne]

a simple, sad, wistful statement of fact, and the hint of hope to finish. very nice EL. I think that if this was part of a conversation, that a hug would be justified at the end.

elbiscayne

 

[logophile]

OK, I'm going to jump in here. Thanks EL for the challenge. I took advantage of it to bust open my writer's block. The bad news is that I'm way over my word count. I've cut loads out of it already. Feeling stuck. I didn't read anyone else's yet because I wanted this to come out uninfluenced by anything else. As soon as I post this, I'm planning to go back and read them all.

------------

See, the thing is, I have this new boyfriend. He’s 7 inches taller than me. Dark hair, blue eyes. Startlingly handsome. Earthy. Familiar. Mystical.

Somehow we ended up in my hotel room together. Before that, of course, dinner. He took me to a new restaurant. The food was amazing, and my mojito set me free. We agreed before hand that our dinner would be platonic. I promised I would be Oh-So-Good. He made me promise. “Remember,” he said, “I can’t tell you No. I’ve never been able to tell you No.”

I meant it when I made the promise. I swear I did. But my body was remembering things that my mind had long blocked. And then, during dinner, there was this moment… time stopped. His crystaline gaze locked onto me and held me tight. I didn’t move for fear of breaking the spell we were casting. I didn’t even breathe. I just gave myself to him.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but that was enough. We fumbled for the bill, I reached for my coat while he took care of the tip. Then, out the door and directly back to my room. We didn’t speak.

We entered the room and looked at each other. He wrapped his arms around me. I leaned sideways till we collapsed on the bed. I was bursting with anticipation and need. I waited. He lay still.

We hadn’t been together in more than ten years. He had been impotent for the last four of them. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my sex drive as well. I was perennially dry (physically and mentally) and couldn’t remember the last time I had an orgasm.

I waited, my eyes closed. I was suspended; feeling at home, feeling safe. Finally feeling his love. Breathe in… he’s here. Breathe out… we’re together. And then I heard it: the tiniest change in his exhalation. It was no more but a catch in his throat and I knew it was time. I tipped my head back and kissed his jaw. Once, very lightly. Again, a little longer. His arms tightened around me and I scooted myself around so that I could kiss him fully.

His mouth on my mouth, all goodness and light. My soul opened up, he walked in and then I closed around him again. At the same time, it was like he had never left. We were 16 again, breathing, eating, and drinking each other. We were so hungry. The passion grew until it was its own entity, something we had to feed and care for. We pulled at each other, kissing, biting, scratching. I was dizzy with the power of my love for him, dizzy with my desire to be taken, filled, possessed.

I straddled him, breaking the kiss long enough to look in his eyes. He peered back at me, shaken by the strength of our communion. It was immediately obvious that we were both healed, sexually speaking. His erection was evident through his jeans and I had soaked the crotch of my panties. He whispergrowled, “I want you.” I pulled my sweater off and leaned in for another kiss.

We gave ourselves up to it. There was really no choice once our lips had met. It was the most divine love. There were times in the middle of the night when the coupling was simultaneously violent and tender, raw and complete. I would bubble up to the surface of consciousness and wonder if we would both survive it. Surely it would consume us, burn us up, leave us as ashes. Then I would slip back under a wave of pure spiritual passion and be lost again.

Even now, weeks later, the memory of his hand in the small of my back or his teeth nipping open the inside of my lip makes me shiver. I am driven by my need to return to him again, to go home. Because everything old is new again. This love has been reborn. And I’ve been reborn with it.

 

[English Lady]

thank you elbiscayne

Logophile...ahhh i've never been one to be accurate with these things It is a lovely passionae piece -who cares if it's a few words over?