The inspiration:
A story:
He lies, deliciously spent, as she rolls off him.
“Is it done?” She asks.
The perfect nipples on the perfect breasts sway as she moves across the room. He swallows, wanting her again, what she does to him with her mouth, her hands … right now and forever.
“Yes,” he answers. He recalls the ashen face of his wife, his weeping children, the reddened face of his boss who is also his father-in-law when he said, “I’m leaving.”
She has dressed and reaches into the closet, a smile of secret satisfaction. She turns to him, suitcases in hand.
“Goodbye. I’m leaving.”
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Now, your turn.
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UPDATES:
Smitty continues my story
More at BigGator, Carrie Aisling, Jimmy Bise
Tania Gail joins in on the fun using an image of her own creation
She had been waiting for nearly an hour and was upset when she finally heard the vehicle approach outside. When she heard the footsteps her mouth slightly parted as she strained to hear more. She had come to realize at a very young age that being born with no eyes was a bitch, thats why she kept the little pipo type monkey in her hair above her left ear, to adviser her of the things… she could not see.
It had been a while since I had been in an office with a full wet bar. Too long, I thought.
I was looking over the collection of mid-tier booze, mostly duty-free sizes of cheap scotch and tequila, and trying to decide on the right mixer from the case of two-liter generics on the floor, when I noticed she was still talking. “..and that’s what I want you to do Mr. – . Is there anything you want… me to do?”, she breathed.
I shook my head.
“Really?”
“Really,” I said. “I’ve got a rule about sticking it in crazy.”
[…] almost went with Tania’s image this week. However Darleen’s image grabbed me the most. So I do like that I now have a choice of images. Music: […]
[…] Inspired by Darleen at Protein Wisdom […]
[…] Fiction picked up this week from Darleen at protein wisdom, Gator from BigGator5.net, and Carrie at […]
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Cherry – who insisted her name was pronounced “Sherry” because she thought it looked and sound French, although in reality everyone pretty much thought it looked and sounded stupid – watched Robbie leave, extremely satisfied and hopeful she would see him again. She thought, not for the first time, how grateful she was for his strong preference for anal and oral intercourse, and how had she been born a man that looked and moved like Robbie did that she would have stayed a man.
A gay man, true, but a man nonetheless.
I did not pick the name “Robbie” based on Smitty’s writing. Odd coincidence, that.
[…] Challengers submitted stunning stories of their own this week. Darleen at Protein Wisdom burns up the blog with her entry. The Other McCain catches Darleen’s fire with his Fiction Challenge. It is not […]
[…] Darleen Click and Smitty for […]
She was the last of an ancient tribe of sheepdog women, and she was lonely, and she’d fallen into bad habits.
She rarely went out anymore, preferring solitude and vodka.
She was happy once. She had a house on a hill surrounded by seven acres upon which grazed 60 head of sheep that she tended to obsessively.
Then came the EPA. Her paradise was a wetland they said. Look at all these navigable waters they said.
They put a bullet through the head of each sheep, one by one by one. She counted 17 executions, and then she fell asleep.
It was a night of butt zits, slurred speech, and probably herpes all stumbling about in a spinning fog of Bacardi fumes. It was an edifice erected on the cheap in the name of appeasement and conveniently demolished by the winds of futility. It was the product of instincts sprouting from low animal cunning mixed with boredom.
It was not the sort of thing that nourished the soul. It conjured nothing glorious. It forged no bonds. It all showered off easily enough. It was hardly worth remembering. The inane hopeless stink of it would soon pass away.
So it did.
herpes does NOT shower off just axe bill clinton
This story is set in the future when showers are anti-viral.
Tracy pursed her lips and slowly exhaled. “Where the hell are you V?” she muttered. “You know I can’t wait all day.” You know she hates you, right? “What! What do you know about it? Has she said something to you?” No but, you have wasted the last thirty years of her life with this nonsense. Anyone would resent that. I know I would if it were me. “You can’t understand the love we share.” Really? Because no one else has ever loved? I loved the idea of you before you were even conceived and the day you were born, my soul was filled. Your father thought he had just invented the wheel, he was so proud and happy he wept. Now he just weeps for what should have been. “Mother, just stop. Please? God! Sometimes I just hate that you won’t let this go!” THIS YOUR SECOND WARNING! YOU HAVE PASSED THE 100 WORD LIMIT FOR THIS ESSAY! BREEDERS MAY NOT EXPRESS CONTRARY OPINIONS RELATING TO STATE PROTECTED STATUS INDIVIDUALS. SEE: BuPers Statute: B74916 Fed Penal code 4, May 2016.