Here's this week's prompt from last week's winner - this week's judge - @SerendipitousMC:
Remember to check the rules.
Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 12:00am Friday, May 24, US EDST.
We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF.
JUST GET WRITING!
Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.
FYI - entries that exceed (or are under) the word limits will not be considered by the judge.
It’s Wednesday. Laundry day. I watch my neighbor from my kitchen window, hanging her laundry to dry in the early morning sunshine: sheets and towels, dresses… her panties. She hangs those up all in a row, always on the line furthest from the house, at the back of her yard, always last.
ReplyDeleteI take one last sip and put my coffee cup in the sink, my half-hard dick pressing against the edge of the counter.
A car door slams, an engine roars. I’m out the back door and over the fence before I even realize.
I weave through the labyrinth of bright linen and gauze until I find pink cotton and white lace. I’m totally hard now. I reach up and remove a pair of panties from the line and inhale their scent. My other hand stokes my cock over my jeans. In my mind she’s wearing these and I’m kneeling before her, inhaling her scent. My tongue laps at the soft cotton over her clit.
I press and stroke harder, harder still, and groan.
I come.
A gasp and I turn to creamy skin and hair haloed in sunshine.
“Edward?”
“Bella, I…”
+++++
@runtagua | 193
Ha!!!!!!!!! Oh, i love this :-) :-)
Delete@shellisthimbles
ReplyDelete198 ineligble words
-----------------
Alice greets me with a cheek-kiss and butt-pinch. I roll my eyes, manouevring the covered pram into a corner. A sigh escapes as I sit.
“How’s it going, Bella?”
I make a show of wiping my brow with my wrist. My foot jiggles the pram, keeping it moving, keeping my little terror asleep.
She giggles. “That good? She’s gone now, right?”
“Yeah.” I set my elbow on the edge of the table and prop my chin up. “I told Edward she’s not allowed to stay so long next time. Two weeks is just crazy. She just about did my head in.”
“Helpful, though?”
“Oh yeah. Full of advice.” I snort. “Apparently, I even hang my underwear out wrong.”
“She’s a double-pegger?”
“You know it. Looks like fu– flipping bunting.” I groan. “See? I even know what bunting is now.”
“Edward glad to see the back of her?”
“You could say that.” He was glad to see the back of me, too, as he bent me over the couch this morning. Our spontaneity, those “Quick, baby is napping. Get naked!” moments had been stifled by his mother’s hovering.
Alice smirks. “I’ll bet. Oh, I ordered you an Americano.”
“Perfect.”
@moonlit__girl
ReplyDelete197 words
The white cotton touches
the ground as I walk beside you
and though the hem is
turning gray
I enjoy the feel of it
dragging on the cement.
You grab my hand.
“What’s with the skirt?”
I shake you off
and twirl around once, twice
then curtsey before you, laughing.
We begin to spar in a way
that feels like flirting.
“I’m not allowed to wear a skirt?”
“You never do.”
“Does it look funny?”
“No, it’s just-”
“Just-”
“Different.”
You take my hand again;
your fingers weave through mine
and you don’t let go.
This is different too.
I raise one eyebrow.
“Maybe I got tired
of old jeans and graphic t’s.”
“You did?”
“Well, no.”
I am conscious of your eyes
weaving around me
like your fingers.
Your words don’t let go either.
“Then why?”
“Does it matter?
“Yes.”
“It’s laundry day.”
“And-”
“When you’re not wearing knickers
a skirt is more comfortable than jeans.”
You stop walking and
your eyes move
from my waist
down to my toes
then back up
before you meet my gaze.
I feel my cheeks turn red.
“Did you notice it’s warmer than yesterday?”
You nod in slow motion.
Shy-flirty baby! I love this, too!
Delete@sparrownotes24
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 200
The sweat-glistened muscles of my neighbour tense, rolling with each swish of the paint brush.
He's amped it up.
Months, we've waged this battle.
Gardening on all fours. Nothing.
Half naked, soap-sudded car washing rendered him speechless for two seconds. "You missed a bit."
Bastard.
I almost caved to his axe wielding in low slung jeans.
But, I must be strong.
He cools down with the hose, rivulets pouring down his hard body, making my knees weak and nerve endings hum.
Scooping up a frothy pile of pastel lace, I march into the yard.
Eyes burn into my bare legs and sun-freckled face as I peg each pair, responding with a sultry glance from below my lashes and around candy-pink ruffles, before I head inside.
.
Three sharp raps.
"Can I help you?"
"I need some sugar."
Two strides and I'm pinned against the wall, rough hands skim my side, hitching my thigh.
"I'm all out."
A roll of hips flutter my eyes closed, as lips whisper his response against my throat, ribs, hips.
"I disagree."
Thighs quiver and fingers tangle in unruly hair as he opens me to his caress.
A mirror reflects our lust exploded.
And, my victorious smile.
Sherbert20111 on FF
ReplyDeleteWordcount: 200
My sister sent a picture
Of the lazy summer sun and the serenity she chose
The tenuous web of family thrums
Indifferent to distance
Missing me.
Knowing
I was warned when I left and when I arrived
About him
The Silver Fox, named with a laugh
Or blush and a hush
I came for work
Became more
When sparring in the Boardroom didn’t ease the burn
For either of us
I try the name out in my adopted tongue
It feels heavy and not the same
Like, “I’m leaving,”
Against our skin, damp, together
Rise and shower
Dress and breakfast
And now he will find the letter on his desk
“Take the day off,” he told the dark. “You’re just tired.”
“I’ll see you, tonight,” this morning, curious and cunning.
“Buy yourself something pretty.”
Pack a bag, turn the key
And run for home
-
Work drives me to the city
But I return to supper and garden
Nephew, a sticky three and an old Collie dog
Both eager for fetch and a turn
“Do you wonder, about him?”
My sister says of my melancholy
“All the time,” whispers to the Birch
“Don’t hate me,” she says, leaving a second glass
i like this a lot. nicely done.
Delete@moonlit__girl
Pinkcookie (PM me at fanfiction.net)
ReplyDeleteWord count: 200
It was my third appointment with the shrink. “Doc, none of your suggestions have worked. All I can think of is panties, panties, panties! I’m still the same pervert that I’ve always been!”
Doctor Bella tilted her head and gazed at me over the top of her glasses. “Now Edward, let’s not be too dramatic about this. I’ve told you before that a panty fetish is not considered as paraphilia unless it causes distress or serious problems for you or those associated with you. According to what you told me last week, that isn’t the case.”
“Yeah, well that might have changed,” I said as I squirmed uncomfortably. “How so?” she asked.
I silently handed her the stack of photos. “Oh shit! These are pictures of my panties drying in my backyard!”
“Do they cause you distress or a serious problem?” I asked with a smirk. I watched her swallow and slowly come around the desk to perch on the edge in front of me. “Not at all Edward, in fact they make me want to tell you about my own panty fetish. The one where I wear a different pair of these every hour as you ravish me unmercifully!”
@_SDRyan_
ReplyDelete200 words
She carries the weight of his silence on her shoulders—hands slick and soapy—as the clatter of his coffee cup announces his exit. She remembers the days, not so very long ago, when he would have slipped behind her and nuzzled her neck, grasped her tight. How her eyes would have been drawn to the sheets on the line, clean breeze floating in through the open window, pollen teasing her skin with the promise of new life. How he would have taken her, there, against the kitchen counter, brushing off her protestations—you’ll be late for work; the neighbors might see. So happy to be ignored, because there was nothing she wanted more than to feel the weight of his desire suffocating the prickly doubts crouched deep inside her mind.
She carries the heaviness of his absence like a loadstone ‘round her neck, dragging it behind her as she takes the basket outside and makes her way to the line. She considers his shirts, waiving hollowly. Her delicates fluttering, unloved. Untouched. Utilitarian. She makes a gift of these as she drops the basket and walks out the back gate, leaving him alone to carry the weight of her silence.
@moonlit__girl
ReplyDelete198 words- i am apparently of two minds on this prompt. i have no idea where this came from!
Goodness, he was ridiculously good-looking
(that’s what they all thought
the first time they saw him).
He didn’t speak,
just smiled shyly,
his eyes darting to the bar,
to his feet, to the door.
He drank his beer, paid his tab,
tipped his hat their way,
and walked out into the night.
They watched him leave
and talked
the way women do
about his shaggy hair and
penchant for ugly plaid shirts
and inability to stutter hello.
They didn’t talk
about the way his eyes changed
from brown to green
in the light of the bar
or about his boyish smile
or about how when he walked
out the door
they wanted to follow him home.
They kept those
thoughts to themselves,
the way women do.
It’s too bad there were only four,
he thought as he walked down
the dirt path to his house.
It’s easier to pick one off
from a large group.
As he opened his door
he glanced towards the back yard,
towards the clothesline
where his trophies hung-
pale pink cotton, purple lace,
green silk, bright pink ruffles-
eight so far
(one for each girl
who had smiled back).
His garden was thriving.
Creepy.
DeleteHorror story creepy.
And...it totally worked for me.
I was going to do something like this, but saw yours and was like, uh, I need a new idea. Nice work.
DeleteWord count: 146 words
ReplyDeleteTwitter handle: @AnnaLund2011
~~~~~~~~~
I count them. Then I count them again. And then again.
All nine of them. Is this true? Is it for real?
All her nine pairs of knock-out-sex-on-a-stick-knickers are hanging up there, even the purple pair is right there in the sun, for everyone to see. I see the Dolce & Gabbana sleek pink ones with frilly fuchsia lacey inserts. The ones that make her legs look a mile long, and sweeter than life itself. Yeah, I even learned the name of the color on those, that’s how much.
Underwear is truly a thing of beauty.
And what is even more beautiful is the feeling of anticipation that is taking hold of my heart.
Oh, hell, who am I kidding? It sure isn’t my heart that’s in a twist.
They are ALL on the line.
My wife is going commando.
There is a god, after all.
~~~~~~~~~
BWA!hahaha! Love this. lol
DeleteWord count: 200 per GDocs
ReplyDelete@sandyquill
= = = = =
If she were here, she’d be telling him to get a shirt on—his fair skin burned easily.
But she wasn’t here, was she?
The white pair, the pink pair, and the ones in other colors. Hell, he didn’t remember the names for all the colors. But it wasn’t until he was ready to take them off the line that he stood, staring, at the purple pair.
“Make sure I have those,” she had whispered in his ear. “The purple ones.”
Nodding, he’d agreed, kissing her gently. Rising from their bed, he held his smile until he was able to leave the room.
“I love you,” she called.
“I love you, too,” he said, renewing his vows with every smile.
He washed them, hung them up to dry, and returned to her. Staying away for even one unnecessary moment was to wound them both.
“You’re back.”
“I love you.” His voice had rasped on her skin. His tears fell unchecked. She had known—she had to have known—but she held on.
Until she left him.
Eventually, he roused himself and returned to the laundry line. She had made one final request and he would honor it.
She would wear the purple pair.
oh Sandi you made me bawl big snotty ugly snotsobs.
Deleteouch. ouch.
@Aleeab4u
ReplyDelete200 words
. . . . . .
Sunshine baby is trying to kill him.
Really. There's no other way to put it. No other excuse for her behavior.
She spins around, dips low, little white sundress playing peekaboo with his sanity.
Waterfall honey hair begging for a fist, sliding down her back when she rises, kitten lithe.
Barefoot princess with her pink-tipped toes playing hide and seek in his freshly mown grass, pretty calves flexing sweetly.
Arching like a wet dream, arms high, white cotton hitching up tan thighs meant for tender kisses.
Spin, dip, repeat.
He clutches tight to his coffee cup and propriety, admiring her handiwork.
Panties.
All in a row.
Hanging on his clothesline, blowing in the soft summer breeze.
Pastels and creams in high cut, bikini, tanga, hipster style scraps of private satin and sinful lace.
She turns and comes to where he leans against his backdoor.
"Dryer broke again?" he asks.
Pretty baby nods with her Mona Lisa smile, and passes by on her way to the upstairs apartment she rents from him.
He hides a grin behind his cup and doesn't call her bluff, shaking his head as her latest attempt to break down his walls, dance in the wind.
@Twilightladies1
ReplyDeleteWord Count 191
The sun beats down, hot and humid, making it impossible to focus. Even this early in the day sweat forms causing my shirt to stick to my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck to curl.
Needing a break, I drink some of the iced tea you brought out and sit in the shade.
I sigh, looking up at the house. You stipulated when we bought it, I would spend time fixing it up. I was so happy you said yes that I agreed.
A decision I’m starting to regret.
The screen door bangs open and you walk out with the laundry basket.
You catch my eye and grin, most likely laughing at me having to work in this heat.
My eyes never leave you. Even dressed casually in a long skirt and tank top you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
My breath catches as I see what you're hanging on the line.
It must be delicates day.
With your basket empty you go back into the house, winking as you walk past me.
It doesn’t take long for me to follow.
Work be dammed.
@bkhchica
ReplyDeleteWord count: 200
Warning- I had to get in touch with my inner sociopath for this...
Momma always said not to do laundry together unless you were ready for sex. Well, I was almost thirty and still hadn’t done laundry with anyone yet. I really wanted to.
I called Penny and asked her if she wanted to go to the club tonight. Maybe I’d find someone there to do laundry with.
We arrived late. The music was loud. Bodies were grinding together in time to the low beat. I watched.
I tripped my way to the bar and ordered milk.
“Milk?” the barkeep questioned.
I nodded. Momma said alcohol was bad.
A man asked, “Dance?” and I knew I’d take him home and do his laundry.
After a few songs, I asked him back to my place. He nodded with a leer and I knew what I’d have to do.
When we got to the house, I tied him up to the bed after he stripped. I scooped up his clothes and put them in the washer with mine.
He was yelling loudly and I just couldn’t have that. Stopping in the kitchen for my supplies, I hurried back. It was time. I took out the blade and stroked it before burying it in his chest.
@bkhchica (I couldn't decide which one to use, so you get them both.)
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 191
“What the hell are you wearing? I swear I’ve seen you picking your butt a thousand times today.”
“I made the wife mad last night.”
“Okay, so you had some killer make up sex? That made your ass hurt?”
“Ha ha. Yuck it up, bastard. No. I really, really pissed her off.”
“What did you do?”
“I forgot our anniversary.”
“You pig! Which anniversary?”
“Apparently the anniversary of the first time we had sex. Like I marked that down on the calendar? Maybe I should have- the last day of sporting blue balls... for six months...”
“Christ man! So why exactly does that mean you have to pick your butt all day?”
“She sewed the leg-holes up on all my underwear. And shredded all my boxers.”
“Damn. She really is pissed. So you’re commando?”
“I can see what you’re thinking. And no. The only way she’d forgive me was if I wore her panties today.”
“Oh, my God. And you did it?”
“She threatened to withhold sex for a whole month if I didn’t.”
“Damn, dude. That’s harsh. Can I see?”
“You’re a douche,” I say before going back to work.
Word count: 163 words
ReplyDeleteTwitter handle: @AnnaLund2011
Because I can't seem to write without putting myself on display. Second flash. Sue me, I'm wordy today.
~~~~~~~~~
Boy, I’ve come a long way from the frilly.
A long way from the pink. From the white, chaste, and sweet. I can still recall lines of that kind of laundry drying in the sun. Mostly hidden under huge sheets, right?
I really don’t miss my obnoxious granny-knickers. The things that I just wore because one has to wear something. Under.
Today, I am way into deep purple and dark indigo.
The blood-red and fiery orange.
I don’t hang them out to dry for everyone to see anymore, though, I already have trouble fitting in as it is; there is no need to add to the shit-storm.
The further along I move on this color-spectrum, the more I feel in control of my life, actually living it for and by myself. When I arrive at jet-black, I think my days are up.
Aspiration set. Goals in view.
I can safely say that I have all my knickers in a row.
Cobalt-blue. You’re next.
~~~~~~~~~
Reminds me of my favourite, Jenny Joseph
Deletex Sherbs
Oh, you are right! The purple wit a red hat, right? I guess it is true, then, age gets us all. LOL
DeleteThe important thing is to make up for the sobriety of youth. :-)
@CrackedFic
ReplyDelete198 words
***
I approach the fence, peek in.
Fuckin' whore.
I can't see inside the house, the glare turning the windows into mirrors.
She's probably walkin' around naked like whores do.
I slide my fingers through the gate, flip the latch.
She's probably watching, wishing I'd break in, throw her down, do what a real man does to a woman like that.
They all wish for it, a strong man to take charge, fuck 'em like the whores they are.
A woman don't leave an invitation like that without wanting it. I've been giving it to 'em for months now, reading the signs they leave, screaming billboards inviting me in. The cops can't catch me.
A clothesline full of panties? Shit. Can't say no to that request.
As soon as I'm through the back door I'm on the ground. There's a gun in my face and some bitch slaps cuffs on me.
"Got him, sarge," she says into her radio.
She puts a knee in my back so I can't breathe. Says, "You're done, motherfucker." Flips me over, spits in my face.
I lick my lips and I wonder if the rumor's true about what happens to rapists in prison.
He presses himself behind me, running his hands down my sides and over my ass as his gravelly sex voice whispers in my ear, “You aren't wearing any underwear.”
ReplyDeleteI try for denial.
“Why would you think that? Why would I be going commando while I’m making brunch?”
Lifting me onto the counter, his hand creeps under my skirt making its way up my thigh.
“Because I know every pair of panties you own, intimately, and they are currently all hanging on the line outside.”
My protest cuts off in my throat as his hand discovers what he already knew.
No panties... No brunch.
Words: 104
@julie_durden
@boomboom_jones
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 200
Crazy Mr. Wick is wheeled out, horizontally, with a sheet covering him from head to toe.
He was never crazy.
There’s a small crowd gathered on the corner. They whisper, frown, but their eyes are dry as some of them bounce babies on their hips while others cross their arms.
He used to stare out his kitchen window. Gave the neighborhood kids the heebie-jeebies. They egged his house a few times, made up rhyming songs that’d guarantee a slice of soap on the tongue.
An ambulance attendant slams shut the door to his rig.
He missed her for too many years. Once a month he hung her garments, her finest dresses, her delicates, on a rope line. They froze in the winter and billowed in the spring. He fluffed her pillow each night. He stared out his kitchen window.
The vehicle drives off, lights unlit, and the crowd disperses as quickly as it formed.
The girl who lives next door enters Mr. Wick’s home. She knows death by broken heart when she sees it even though she’s never actually seen it before. In his yard, she removes each piece of laundry, folds it nicely, then puts it away for him.
@bebeginja (first time here!)
ReplyDeleteWord count: 200
It’s prank night at the Boy’s Academy. Edward and his boys leave campus on a clandestine mission to stake out the Girl’s School on the other side of the woods. They are veterans.
“Would you look at that?” Em announces. “It’s like they’re baiting us!”
Halfway across the great lawn hang several clotheslines. On the one closest to the building there are … panties.
Later that night, the boys return. They sneak stealthily across the lawn and replace the girls’ laundry with boys’ clothes. Their panties with boxers. Edward glances at Bella’s window – he knows which room is hers. First floor, second from the left. He hides a pair of silk and lace in his pocket before they run away in victory.
Just before dawn, Edward returns on a mission of his own. He taps on her window.
“Nice one,” she says, welcoming him inside. “Guess you guys got us, huh?”
“I got YOU.” he says, pulling her close. “I’ve waited all summer. Too long.”
Before he could kiss her, she stops, holds her hand out.
He pulls soft and sheer from his pocket.
“I paid good money for these. Don’t just leave them hanging around,” he orders with a smirk.
@megan_timms
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 198
A dark cloud looms far in the horizon; I scamper out to the yard.
I feel the first spatters of rain hit my face as I frantically gather in the laundry.
The sharp scent of the fruity detergent fills my nose as the breeze whips my hair around my face, a stray lock slipping into my mouth.
I catch it with my finger, brushing it behind my ear; it’s then that I feel your warm breath on my neck. I shriek, and giggle as your tongue pokes out and wets my ear.
“Boo!” you whisper-shout, as your hands snake around my waist. You pull me close, your nose nuzzled in my hair. Your fingers slip under my shirt; I shiver, not from the breeze but from your feather light touch.
The rain is falling heavy now, large bubbles bouncing off the lake out front; my hair soaked.
“You scared me baby, you’re home early.”
Your fingers sweep up my shirt and palm my breasts, my nipples hardening.
I’m yours.
“Let’s play hooky,” you say, pulling me to the grass, laundry long forgotten. Our bodies meld together; soaked to the bone.
Its cold, frantic, and wet.
It’s perfect.
@Missus_T_
ReplyDelete198 words
I was just trying to be nice. He had a ton of clean laundry, and I thought I’d be helpful by putting it away.
I should have known better.
I slammed the drawer and fell back on my ass. My mouth hung open, gaping like a fish.
Sitting up on my knees, I slowly opened the drawer again hoping to see something different.
Nope. I wasn’t that lucky.
My boyfriend had a drawer full of panties. And they weren’t mine.
I’d had a bad feeling for months—that all of his ‘working late’ and last minute cancellations were bullshit. The drawer full of silk was all the proof I needed.
The suitcase I’d loaned him was in the closet. I started filling it without another thought... Books. Jewelry. Shoes. Some dresses on hangers and my two drawers of clothes. I wrote FUCK YOU on the mirror in lipstick as I packed my things in the bathroom.
When I was ready to leave, I looked at the dresser again and paused. I grabbed the offending drawer and a bag of clothespins from the closet before stomping outside.
I hung his trampy, disgusting trophies on the clothesline and never looked back.
Twitter: @bigblueboat
ReplyDeleteWord count: 200
*************************
I never thought I'd see the day when I could hang my lace up with Bella’s. Society’s expectations forced me to hide. I played their game. By the sixth year of celibacy, I was ready to quit.
She was at the next photoshoot. We didn't look alike, but I could see she would be my replacement. At the end of the shoot, she came over, introduced herself, asked if I knew where to find decent Mexican. I said sure. The smirk should have clued me in. It had been too long since I got hit on by a woman to notice.
By the fourth night out, I finally noticed. That night the paparazzi snapped pictures.
The next morning I dreaded going online. Shockingly, the majority of the messages were supportive. I dialed Bella, telling her to come over.
I freaked.
She calmed me with her lips.
I froze.
Her forehead knit.
“I thought you wanted this. You kept saying yes. Didn't flip when I took control last night and had my PR guy issue a statement about us being to—”
I pulled her back to me.
That was six months ago. This is the first time I've done our laundry.
@ordinary_vamp
ReplyDelete196 words
~:~
Your eyes. Adorable in the bright afternoon. They glint and glimmer and catch the sun and I always wonder of you're one of the Fey, here to tempt and tease me.
Your mouth. Full bottom lip with tiny teeth indents curved into a smirk as you hold up my knickers, inspecting them.
You smirk grows into a smile; your eyes become hooded in contemplation. You hold them up, thumbs hooked into the hip bands in *that* way, that way my hips wish to feel as your dry knuckles and thumbnails rasp along my skin. They flutter a bit, not that you mind.
You're dirty and sooty after being out at work, but you haven't looked better yet.
I don't mind that you're rubbing grime into my freshly laundered knickers because your face makes up for everything.
"I haven't noticed these before."
"That's because they're new."
You toss them over your shoulder in such an absurd manner we both laugh.
Until you grasp my hips and pull me in, lips against lips.
“What have you got on now? More new ones?”
“Nothing.”
New, old, doesn't matter. You're always more interested in what's underneath lace, silk and skin.
@boomboom_jones
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 200
The blades of grass are so high and dry they make her thighs itch. She flicks away an ant, squints at the clothesline that’s a hundred feet away. She’s smiling but confused by Neighbor Boy’s…project? He hung them with lots of vigor, she thinks. She’s hoping they’re not his, but really, you never know.
He’s cradling a camera – this old thing that looks like her grandpa’s. He’s on his knees then his feet then atop a ladder. He glances over, smirks. He goes back to his photo-taking.
She shades her eyes from the afternoon sun. In her head, and probably her heart, she strikes up a conversation, but Neighbor Boy is, like, way older. No way Dad would go for it and NB would probably pat her head. Call her jailbait.
She’s sixteen, though. He’s home from college. It’s not that bad.
“They’re not mine,” he says, laughing. She shrugs, though her skin just went hot.
He waves her over.
She ignites.
“You wouldn’t believe the looks I got in Target.” He waits; she mashes her lips together. “It’s for school. It’s about women and their differences and how beautiful they all are.”
She thinks she’ll marry NB one day.
@femme_mal
ReplyDelete197 words
__________
He found her sitting at the table in the gazebo, tablecloth spread, dishes laid, pillows tossed along the benches. She looked like the essence of summer itself, her face flush from the sun, her bare shoulders tan above her sundress.
“Hope this fried chicken is as good as you said it would be.”
She smiled as she took the bag he offered. “It will be. It’ll be as tasty as the rest of this picnic.”
He sat on the bench beside her, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping his left arm around her shoulder, gliding his palm over her smooth, warm flesh. His hand right hand slipped beneath the hem of her dress, sliding along the inside of her parted thighs, slowly working his fingers toward her heat.
Her eyes closed as he whispered in her ear, “Oh, it will be a very tasty feast, and accessible, too.”
“What—”
“Shh. Every pair of panties you own is hanging on the line, dear. Which can only mean one thing—”
She jumped ever so slightly, then sighed as his lips grazed her neck and his fingertips met her softest, warmest flesh.
“Dinner is served, my love, time to eat.”
@Alesoflyy
ReplyDelete200 words
She watches him finger the thin material of her thong.
“Why do you hang your clothes on lines when you have a perfectly good dryer inside?” he asks, turning toward her.
She merely smiles and secures the white sheet to the line with two clothes pins. “Why are you here?” She cocks an eyebrow at him in challenging.
He steps forward and runs his knuckle across her cheek, watching a rosy red path follow in its wake. “Why do you ask why?”
“Why do you?” she shoots back.
“Because it gives me information.”
A short, sharp laugh escapes her. “And what information have you gotten from me?”
He brushes her hair over her shoulder, his finger playing with the strap of her tank top. “That you want to kiss me right now.”
She says nothing.
“So it’s true.”
She rolls her eyes, wraps her hands around his neck and pulls him to her. “Why don’t you make your move and find out?”
And he does.
Right there, as the sun climbs to its highest point in the sky, they fall to the soft grass, kissing and groping and taking everything further than either of them ever expected to take it.