Turning Up the Heat

When I got to my car, I saw her sitting in hers, opening a pack of cigarettes. I pulled up beside her, driver-door to driver-door.

“Hello, I noticed you in the store a few minutes ago.”

She smiled, “Yes, I noticed you too, bold statement, ‘Not yet’.”

“Give me the pack of cigarettes.”

She offered them and I tossed them onto my dash.

“By 9 o’clock send me your list of other bad habits, and two things you want to improve,” and I gave her my business card.

She looked off-guard, confused, but nodded her agreement, and I pulled away.

The Heat of Summer

I was looking for Gatorade and trail mix. Rounding the corner heading to the checkout station what I found was a lovely raven-haired girl. She was wearing skimpy volleyball shorts, barely covering her well rounded buttocks, and a deeply slit cotton tank top.

We got to the line at the same time. Nodding, I stepped aside. She smiled softly, and silently stepped forward. I placed my items on the conveyor belt and looked her over. My eyes were drawn to the complex compound curves of her cleavage.

The cashier glanced at her, then addressed me, “Are you together?”

“Not yet.”

King Sol - Friday Flash Fiction

(Image source: "King Sol" by Carolyn Weltman)

Red squatted down, scooting in close, my arm around her waist. Settling in, she completed the triad, actualizing Blue's fantasy. Leaning in more, she placed her hand on Blue's thigh, kissing her. She was shivering with desire from that first touch.

Deepening the kiss, lips stuck together, slowly peeling apart. Tongues dancing, darting around, over, under, thrusting; biting her lip. Gasping, and breathing heavily, Blue was afire with lust; perky breasts, gumdrop nipples, bright slutty red nails. Enthralled with being watched.

My nostrils were filled with the earthy damp fragrance of their arousal.

I reached in, scratching my thumbnail over her hypersensitive button, triggering a slow, shuddering, shaking, foot-cramping orgasm.

The action interrupted

(Click for details on FFF!)

Leaning in I whispered
Reds hand stroking me
it's good to be the King

(Using the supplied artwork, write a flash fiction of 107-127 words, incorporating the phrase "...shivering with desire...")

FFF Friends/Offerings 

Sometimes . . .

  . . . when browsing the internet,

or tumbr I see beautiful pictures

that make me think of you . . .

  . . . like this one,  because in the

shapes, I find my imagination.

Hand Controls

'What? you think you're some kind of Jedi? Waving your hand around like that?' ~ Watto to Qui-Gon, The Phantom Menace

It was a very busy Saturday night and I was sitting at the final seat at the blackjack table, another man next to me and then seat 4 was empty, the barstool like seat pushed up against the rail, and the other 3 seats were occupied as well. The pit area at the Suncoast casino was busy; there was nearly a row of people behind the players watching the action. It was jovial night, everyone was having a good time, the cards were generally going the player’s way, and everyone was up a little bit.

As we played I began to notice the man next to me kept looking to his right, not paying the attention he had been, seeming distracted. I also noticed that the blackjack dealer seemed to have his attention drawn as well. After a few minutes, I leaned forward to see what was distracting them so. A player had stepped up to the vacant seat and placed chips on the edge of the table, waiting to get into the next round of play.

Standing behind the vacant fourth seat was a quite attractive, fairly tall Asian girl, typical long straight black hair and pretty oval eyes. Then I noticed what had been distracting the other men (and now me) at the table. This attractive 20-something girl was wearing a short black flip skirt and a cream colored button up V-neck sweater, unbuttoned nearly down to her navel. The edges of the sweater were taut, just barely covered the nipples on her small conical breasts. Like many Asian girls she had very small breasts, probably barely A cups, and seemed to be fidgety about the way the sweater barely covered them.

She held a drink in her left hand and played cards with her right, and between hands she would fuss with the edges of the sweater, alternately covering more of her breasts and then moving it back to where it just barely covered her nipples again, all done in a nervous sort of way.

As I alternated between watching and leering, I noticed she would glance back over her left shoulder frequently, as if she might be expecting someone to come walking up at any minute. I looked around a couple times and finally notice a nice looking late 30s man standing about 10 feet back from the table, leaning against the end of a bank of slot machines. He was nicely dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, and was watching the girl, very intently, with no expression on his face.

Just about then the girl adjusted the right edge of the sweater so that it was now lying outside of her right breast, so that it was completely uncovered. It was quite a sight in a crowded casino, a lovely girl with bare breast showing in the midst of crowd. I looked back at the man and notice he was making a hand gesture, waving it slightly to the right, indicating the same direction she had moved the sweater. As I watched him he then moved his hand in a pushing forward manner and the girl moved in closer to the table and leaned forward, making herself even more visible to the people on either side of her. Over the half-hour or so, she moved the sweater edge off of and back on and then off again from her breasts probably a half dozen times, mostly leaving them and her erase-like nipples open and exposed, responding to the gestures of the man behind her.

Every time he would give her another gesture, she would grimace slightly but comply. Her gaze was always on the man, or the cards in front of her, but never to one side or the other, acutely aware that she was being watched, the blackjack dealer directly in front of her and also some half dozen people on either side of her. People would come and go, not sure of what they were seeing, or leave out of embarrassment, except for those of us engaged in the game, sitting at the table, caught up in the play.

I am fairly confident that I am the only one who saw the man and his hand signals, and understood the control being exerted over her. Clearly she was acting as directed within a previously scripted scenario. She was embarrassed in that very shy, demure and quiet way that Asian girls can react, but was obviously enjoying the control and exhibition as evidenced by her skin flushing and arousal. Then as quietly and unobtrusively as she had arrived, with a come hither gesture, she turned and walked away, placed her hand on his arm and they walked off into the crowd.

It was a very interesting convergence of domination/control, exhibition and voyeurism, if only for a fleeting few minutes.