Jami Denise says:
September 29, 2013 at 8:53 pm
She could smell my loneliness like a hound on a hunt. The gold band never left my finger, but that didn’t stop her.
Long legs, curves everywhere, and full, fleshy tits. Irresistible, and a temptation too sweet to ignore.
I was a middle-aged man with a thirty-year mortgage, three kids and a bitch of a wife. I never understood why she chased me, but she did.
It was only a matter of time until she ensnared me.
I should’ve ignored the knock at the door. I should’ve turned up the volume on the ten o’clock news.
But as she stood across the room, running her fingers over her slender thighs, nothing mattered but her. I wanted her to crawl to me, sink down on my cock, and milk the misery right out of me. I wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk, shove my dick in her mouth and watch her choke, punish her for making me want her.
Her ass called to me, her hips begged to be grabbed, held down.
“Once you taste me, you’ll starve every moment you don’t.”
Her heat burned; singed my flesh like fire. I was addicted.
Word count : 194
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Jami Denise says:
August 25, 2013 at 10:14 pm
Jealousy. That’s how it began. She had him, the man I’d waited for since I was sixteen. I’d craved his love, begged for it, and she’d stolen it.
She couldn’t have known. She didn’t know me, or him, back then.
Even I had to admit she was wonderful. Big brown eyes hidden by blunt blonde bangs and an infectious smile.
Off on his board, he was oblivious to the budding flirtation on the sand. Coppertone and roaming fingers, soft velvet and slender curves.
Our tongues touched, discrete and carnal. Her hand slid down my back, cupping my pussy and slid her finger inside.
“Has a woman ever touched you before, Jolleen?” she whispered in my ear.
My hips wiggled, signaling her for more as I shook my head.
“He whispers your name in his sleep, Jolleen. He has pictures of you, I saw them. I wondered about you.”
I was panting, so turned on and afraid at the same time. Her words banged around in my head like a marble dropped off a ten-story building. He thought of me… and so did she.
“I want to fuck you, and you want him. Do you want us… to fuck you?”
word count : 199
- See more at: http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com/sinful-sunday/sinful-sunday-flash-fiction-week-45#sthash.bz1rpAcz.dpuf
Jami Denise says:
August 18, 2013 at 7:02 pm
Vain and pure, she reeks of class and a grace I can’t describe. She shouldn’t want me. She knows it, flaunts it.
I duck into the crowd, teasing, playing a game she thinks only she can win. I know better. Underneath the draping of her father’s success, and her mother’s pearls, lives a woman that desires the dirty, uncouth touch of my calloused hands.
She can’t let go, I won’t let her. She finds me, standing in the dark hall and follows me into an empty room.
I’ll defile her. She gives it. Eagerly.
“Take off everything but the pearls. I want you on your knees.”
The dress slides off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She’s bare flesh–sin. Mine.
I run a finger down her throat, between her breasts, grasping the dangling pearls in my fist, pulling her mouth to mine.
I invade her, taking the innocence and pleasure she possesses. I hold her ass, supple and fat and fleshy. My fingers dip underneath, testing, feeling and soaking her essence up.
I do this. Gutter trash. Broke fuck. I take her shiney and turn her into filth, wrapping those pearls of her mother’s around her neck, I ruin her.
Word Count: 200
- See more at: http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com/sinful-sunday/sinful-sunday-flash-fiction-week-44#sthash.fWmwSOsk.dpuf
Judge : Krystel H
Winner: Jami Denise
I loved this entry, it was demanding, gritty, even dirty in the most delicious of ways all the while dripping of pure sin. Teasing up until the last very last word. This is one I wish was longer than the 200 words allowed.
Jami Denise says:
July 14, 2013 at 5:17 pm
We were on a precipice, tippy-toeing around the situation and the pain. It was the end, and we were unable to change the series of events that brought us to that point.
But there was that compulsive need for him to belong to me, and me him. From the beginning, we were too intense. Over the top, and unhealthy in love.
“I need to be inside you. I need to hold you.”
The words ground out of his mouth like shards of glass. Needy and addicted, he grabbed me, took me.
His hand wrapped around my ankle, pulling me to the end of the bed and shoving himself inside, breaking my heart further.
His kisses felt like a farewell, and his touch was too eager to feel like hope. Each thrust of his hips, every time he touched that place inside, I died a little bit more.
We were holding on to yesterday. The yearning between us was so strong, it just wouldn’t let go. We couldn’t. My hands held his back, the muscles rippling as he plunged deeper and deeper into my soul. I let him take everything.
As my orgasm approached, the tears fell.
Tomorrow, we were over.
- See more at: http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com/sinful-sunday/sinful-sunday-week-40#comment-2521
Judge: Les Joseph
Jami Denise is the Runner Up this week. This was a tough choice for me. I love the angst, that feeling of … ugh, when it gets you right in the heart, and this entry left me almost breathless. With so few words I was able to feel the anguish and the pain, the sense of loss both characters were feeling. This line wrecked me the most.
June 30, 2013 at 2:26 pm
She shouldn’t be here. She should be in my sister’s room, tucked away under pink ruffles, sound asleep.
Instead, she’s crawling into my lap, wrapping her slender legs around my back, kissing me with lips full of promises.
I can’t resist her. I’ve tried. She sings to me, pulls me in. Every inch of her body bringing me to life, making me whole.
It’s been too long since I’ve held her or touched her the way I need. I enter her slowly, enjoying every inch until there’s nowhere else to go. She’s full, warm, and so soft, and I can no longer hold back.
She moves as I do, opposite but the same. Back and forth, in and out, I love her with everything I have.
Our bodies dance, our eyes speak.
Our secret stays contained between the four walls of my room, the one that sits vacant while I spend sleepless nights thinking about her six hundred miles away.
It’s that spark in her eye, that twinkle as she comes apart on top of me that makes it worth it. The risk, the loneliness, the pain.
She’s waiting, will wait, until she can be mine for good.
Word count: 200
- See more at: http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com/sinful-sunday/sinful-sunday-week-38#sthash.zCmacodp.dpuf
Wonderful. That’s what I really want to say about this one and the way it made me feel.