Stretch your writing muscles: Challenge Numero Uno

[KillerMuffin]

Hey, why not? Let's give 'er a shot.

Here's the challenge, ladies and gentlemen, and it involves naked people. Yay us! In 750 to 2,000 words (by the word processor), explain how this young lady gets out of her predicament:

http://www.kinkysociety.com/free/pn.jpg

This is a safe link straight to the JPG to avoid having to load the image every single time you click on this page.

Won't you help her out?

There's a caveat. There should be a challenge in there somewhere, right? She's in a predicament. Her problem: She doesn't speak a language anyone in the area can understand. None of your other characters will be able to communicate with her through spoken language. One last thing, she can't be your "I" character or the protagonist, she has to be someone your primary character interacts with, the antagonist as it were.

There are no other limits!

You can post here or you can submit. Your choice.

 

[TheEarl]

I'm sorry KM, but I'm buggered if I can think of an idea for this. May wait to see what other people do before submitting anything.

The Earl

 

[hiddenself]

Just an idea

Music is universal. The protag approaches her and communicates through songs. Probably a radio or boombox or some other gadget (can't be playing an instrument because they should be occupied with other things eventually). You have to know your music though to match songs with the progression in the story.

 

[champagne1982]

Screwed!

He poured the coffee. It was thick, black and Brazilian, smiling sardonically, he realized that so was he! Turning he grinned at his wife, Lucia. She winked as her strong, even teeth bit into the slice of melon she'd just peeled.
"Jose! Good morning, Baby," she rolled the fruit into her cheek, "After you have breakfast could you fix that damned gate? It's been halfway off its hinges for two weeks now."
He turned and looked out the window. Sure enough, the gate in question was dragging in the sand, obviously in need of repair. "Yeah my sexy mama, I'll fix that up today. Don't worry about it anymore."
He took a sip of coffee. "What time do you think ole Doc James will shut down the office today?" he put his cup down and pulled her to him, "I've got something else that's hangin' and in need of attention!" Jose bumped his semi-hard cock against her slightly rounded tummy.
Lucia chuckled and reached inside his bathrobe, "You'll have to wait to have that anaconda laid to rest," she inhaled between her teeth when her touch met his sparse and kinky pubes. She grasped him in her fingers and ran her hand out to the tip of his growing hardon, "Damn, Baby! I gotta get goin' or I'll be late!"
She reached up and gave Jose a loving kiss before she pushed off him and grabbed her purse. As she pulled the door closed, she paused, "I'll be home after four o'clock, Baby. I'll call you if I'm gonna work overtime!"
He picked up his coffee and chose a bit of the melon to take out onto the patio. He looked out over the bay and breathed deeply. It was probably going to rain this afternoon. The clouds were building in the north. He finished his food and leaving his cup on the railing he went through the broken gate to the shore.
Jose flexed inside his light, linen bathrobe and untied the sash, it fell to the ground revealing his fine physique and smooth, dark skin. He strode into the calm water, nude, ready for his morning swim. The water refreshed him. After about 20 minutes, he swam towards shore. He stood in chest-deep water and looked up at his house.
"Now who is that?" he wondered as he watched a form in a flowered sundress shake out a blanket. She was just outside his property line but he was sure he could get her to go settle elsewhere. The last thing he wanted was to have a party of strangers picnicking, virtually on his doorstep, especially while he was fixing that bloody gate.
He swam shoreward until he could comfortable wade in. Only stopping long enough to scoop up the robe and dry his face on it, he moved up the beach. He was just tying the belt when he stopped at the edge of the woman's blanket. She was a petite brunette, with long straight hair and looked up into his face and winsomely smiled as she straightened.
Warily, studying her eyes, Jose leaned forward, "And who might you be?" he puzzled.
She tipped her head and gazed at him. She opened her mouth and spoke some words in a strange language.
"Wonderful," he said, "But, what's your name?"
She gestured expansively at the garden and spun around. She pointed at the yacht far out in the bay and Jose surmised that she was going to be waiting for them to come in. "Suit yourself about waiting, but do it in the park!" he pointed forcefully in the direction of the funny totem he and Lucia had picked up on their honeymoon, "I'm just gonna get my tools to sort out this gate." Jose walked into the house.
Jesus! What was he thinking? As he'd spoke with the beautiful stranger, he'd had the worst time on Earth trying not to stare down into her tanned cleavage. She was in such sharp contrast to Lucia in form and colour, a true novelty to look at.
He walked to his bedroom and chose a pair of baggy, cotton shorts. He decided to go shirtless since it was cloudy and the humidity was climbing steadily. He went into the pantry and grabbed his tools and a handful of screws.
Jose busied himself with plugging the oversized screw holes and reattaching the hinges, tightly, to the gate. He swung it to and fro a couple of times pleased with his handiwork. He looked up, smiling his accomplishment and almost fell over!
She'd moved silently onto the rock that formed the decorative/eclectic mix of materials that formed his fence. Her nude form was as elegant as any bronze figurine he could think of. Her breasts were amazing in their youthful perkiness and he couldn't look away as her nipples changed texture while his regard stroked them. She unabashedly held her legs open and reached to spread her pussy lips.
Her clit was a beautiful, meaty bundle of tactile nerves. He licked his lips and imagined sucking her frilly petals into his mouth, tugging and stretching before releasing them. They were so swollen and thick! His cock leapt at the idea.
She pointed at the screwdriver on the top of his box and then at his crotch. Smiling she twisted her wrist in front of that beautiful cunt, as if she were driving in a screw. Jose eagerly hoped that she was needing screwing too!

I have no idea what the word count is on this thing. I'm having the worst time with my IE and my Windows. Forgive me if it's a little short but hey.. it's better to write a story than just beat around the bush, isn't it?

Carrie

My Scribbles

 

[Quasimodem]

Sorry KM, only 410 words.

Clay had tried the usual openings with the softie, but to no avail. Neither pre-avalanche striation nor magma recapitulation had any effect, yet Clay could not surrender his desire as merely a star-crossed emanation of his stolid essence.

The softie was a most unusual shape and colour, yet it showed none of the usual surface abrasions necessary to produce that formation. Its surface was softer than the finest sand. Softer, even, than mud.

Clay had once known that mixture of earth and water, and how it dampened every contact with its squishing into odd, ever-changing shapes. Had Clay forgotten any mud surface that was dry, yet retained a soft, flexible interior? He thought not, yet here was just such a mud as he had never encountered before.

Bringing its extremities into a tighter circle, the softie pushed one of its projecting formations into a narrow crevice. The crevice moved to accept, as the projecting formation disappeared within.

The softie must respond to conflicting forces, Clay theorized, as it withdrew the projectile from the crevice. No sooner out, than back in it returned.

Clay marvelled at the softie’s adaptability while wondering why it wished to erode that crevice into a wider passage. Back and forth the projecting formation plied, abrading the inner lining of the softie’s crevice. Back and forth, faster and faster, while the whole softie rocked precariously upon Clay’s upper surface.

Clay nearly decided that the softie had discovered some method to propelling itself, and was preparing to roll to another location.

The liquid made Clay decide otherwise.

At first, a very thin dribble ran from the crevice where the projectile was applying abrasion. It fell in thick, viscose droplets that darkened Clay’s porous surface.

Suddenly, there was a flood. A dark stain appeared upon Clay’s upper surface. At the same time, the softie flattened back, even more closely adhering to Clays shape, while Clay thirstily absorbed the liquid through his porous surface, before the sun could vaporize, and lift it from his keeping.

Finally, the softie sat up. For a moment it balanced its creviced end against Clay’s upper surface, then unbelievably, it rose and rolled away, with an awkward rocking roll.

Clay’s infatuation came to an end. The softie was of a greater stratum than he. It was not to be.

Still, as Clay felt the viscous stain hardening on his upper surface, he hoped that maybe sometime, in a future eon, the softie might come back.

 

[Guest]

champagne1982

I copied it into Word and the count is 912.

Perdita

 

[Op_Cit]

This one seems kind of easy, here's about 300 words:

Enough's Enough

Finally I'd had enough. After my fourth attempt to reposition my tripod to get the photos I needed, I finally gave up and began snapping away with her in the middle of the shot.

She didn't seem to mind her state of undress, and out of respect for her, I didn't comment on it. Not that it would have mattered, she didn't seem to speak any English. My early attempts at asking nicely for her to move were met with light laughter and a lilting reply in some unknown tongue.

I had tried in vain to ignore her presence, I knew topless sunbathing was common in Europe and tried to respect her wishes for an all over tan. When she sat down directly infront of me and began posing and speaking in musical tone I gave up and began shooting her.

Unfortunately, this neither embarrassed her into moving, nor did it quiet her unintelligible queries of me. Then when she spread her legs and nether lips, I surrendered to the inevitable.

After carefully replacing the lens cap I walked over and knelt down before her. As I reached under her thighs and lowered my face to taste her, she grasped my head and stopped speaking. After a moment she began to moan...

I had to make her cum three times before she released my head, and then I returned to my camera while she followed docilely. As I removed the lens cap to resume my photo documentary, she knelt between my legs and began to unfasten my trousers.

Again, I resigned myself, knowing I would not be able to stop her. Instead I removed my sportcoat and draped it over her shoulders. As her lips surrounded me, I tried carefully to focus the camera, I had many more shots to make before my day was done.