Tag Archives: Stories

Wicked Wednesday: Winter

By Dmitry A. Mottl (photographer) & User:Tom_dl (File:Kuznetsk Alatau 2.jpg) [GFDL or CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

By Dmitry A. Mottl (photographer) & User:Tom_dl (File:Kuznetsk Alatau 2.jpg) [GFDL or CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

I open the door to my house with relief, anxious to get out of the cold. My fingers are frozen, even though they’re inside of glove, and I had trouble fitting the key in the lock and turning the knob. My cheeks, exposed to the crisp wind, are chilled and red, and my nose is frozen. The only thing warm on my head are my ears, covered by the furry flaps of my hat.

The warmth hits me as soon as I step inside, and I see the fire crackling in the fireplace. The light from the flames dances in the darkened room. I take off my hat and peel off my gloves, flexing my fingers to get some feeling back in them.  I unzip my coat and slide it off, draping it over the back of the chair. I walk into the room, past the entryway, and now I see you, lying on your side on a large blanket in front of the fireplace. You’re naked except for your red plaid briefs, and my eyes drink you in as I smile.  You have a glass of wine in your hand, and you manage not to spill it as you sit up. Your skin glows from the fire light, and you pat the blanket next to you.

Although I’m still chilled I know the fire will soon warm me, and I slip my shirt off over my head, then unbutton my pants, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out towards you. I feel the heat from your gaze as I reach behind my back, unhooking my blue bra and dropping it beside me. I leave on my thong, lacy and blue like my bra, and I sink down on the blanket with you.

You reach behind you and produce a bottle of wine and another glass, and as you pour the wine splashes gently. When you hand me my glass our fingers touch, and the spark that always warms me passes between us. I lean towards you, and your lips brush mine, sending a flush to my cheeks.

I settle down next to you, and lean back into you. You put your arm around me and we sit quietly, enjoying the heat and each other. While we will play later, now we bask in each other’s company and love, warm and safe from the cold.



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Wicked Wednesday: Sunburn

Sunburn ©2016 Sammi Lou Thorne

Sunburn ©2016 Sammi Lou Thorne

The morning started out warm, and the sun was shining high in the sky. A few puffy clouds floated lazily through a sea of blue, and the slight wind ruffled the grass. I wanted to get my hands dirty, and it was a perfect day to get out in the garden. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and got to work.

As I knelt in the garden and pulled weeds, the sun beat down on my back, and I could feel sweat rolling from my forehead. It was hot: sweat was even running from under my breasts. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my forearm, and decided to take a break. I went into the house and washed my hands, then came out with a tall glass of iced water. I was still sweating, but I was cooling off, and I figured I might work on my tan a bit.

My yard had high fences and trees around the borders, so it was pretty isolated. I pulled off my tank, letting my bare breasts feel the heat of the sun. I always hated tan lines, and I knew no one would see me if I went topless. I peeled off my shorts as well, leaving on only a small pair of panties between myself and the sun’s rays.

I intended to put some sunscreen on, but first I wanted another drink of water. It was deliciously cold, and water ran down my chin and onto my chest as I drank. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then I felt my lover’s presence behind me. I could feel the disturbance of the air as he stepped closer, and his body pressed into mine as his hands cupped my breasts, his thumb and finger gently pinching my nipples. I shivered as his breath tickled the nape of my neck, and I could feel my panties grow wet as I bent my head and he gently kissed along my neck, his hands still caressing my breasts. I moaned, and he began lightly biting my neck, sending chills through my body.

The sun beat down on us, and he licked the sweat from my neck, his hands roaming down to my waist and under the straps of my panties. He nudged them down and I helped him lower them, stepping out of them and kicking them across the grass. His hands ran lightly up and down my sides, stopping to hold and squeeze my breasts before moving downwards, his fingers lightly brushing my heated skin and giving me chills while he kept kissing my neck. His breath was warm as I arched my back, and I turned my head to the right so he could nibble on my ear. It felt delicious, and I could feel my wetness as his tongue traced delicate circles on its surface.

I spread my legs as his hands grasped my ass, and then I bent over, steadying myself on the chair. I felt the tip of his cock enter me, and then he pounded into me, hard as the sun beat down on us. His hands rested just above my ass, squeezing as I clenched around him, and my moans filled the quiet air. We fucked under the sun, sweating, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want it to end.

I woke up, a bit disoriented, on the chair. The ice in my drink had completely melted, and the outside of the glass glistened with water droplets. I looked around, but I knew he wasn’t there. I rose, naked, and headed inside, tired and hot, and my skin was on fire. I went into the bathroom and flipped on the light, and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a lobster, and I don’t think my skin had ever been so sunburnt. But around my breasts…were those handprints? I turned and looked again. They were – areas of white on my reddened skin, where my hands must have been when I fell asleep. I knew he wasn’t here, and yet…I moved my hands up and tried to match them to the handprints. I twisted and turned, but they didn’t line up. My eye caught another flash of white in the mirror and I turned, looking at my backside, where I saw two more handprints on my burnt flesh.

I marveled at my burnt body, and its handprint tattoos. Was it a dream, or something more? The white on red prints spoke volumes, and I smiled and turned off the light.

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TMI Tuesday: Bringing Up The Past

By Nabakishorec (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

By Nabakishorec (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

1. What is the nickname a lover had for you that made you cringe?
Hmmm….maybe Love Muffin? Some of them are downright silly, but that’s the only one I can think of that makes me cringe.

2. Where do you most often toss or keep your excess change (coins)?
I’ve got some giant pepsi/beer plastic bottles – about 3 foot high – that’s where all change goes. Occasionally I’ll dump it out and change in everything but the pennies.

3. If someone wrote a book about your past lovers and past sex life, which category fits best:
a. Abnormal psychology book
b. Steamy romance novel
c. Sad sad story

That’s a tough one, but I suppose it would be a) Abnormal psychology book.

4. Some say sex is like driving. Pretend you are a car. Are you: rear, front or all-wheel drive?
Ha – definitely all-wheel drive here.

5. What is it that you do daily that you would like to stop doing?
Falling to sleep early at night. I’d like to stay up much later than I do.

6. What is the biggest lie you ever told to get someone into bed or the biggest lie you ever told in bed?
That’s one I’m never telling.

Bonus: If married, who was interested in marriage first, you or your spouse?
Huh….I think he did, but I really don’t remember who brought it up first!


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Wicked Wednesday: Graveyards/Cemeteries

By Guliolopez (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

By Guliolopez (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

If you were to ask me to name the last place on earth I’d want to have sex, I wouldn’t have to think about it much. Although in a submarine and in a hot air balloon would be high up on my list, at the top would be just one place: a cemetery.

It’s not that I have an aversion to fucking on grass – in the backyard and at the park under a shady tree is divine, as is the middle of a football or baseball field late at night under the stars. But having sex in a graveyard, potentially on top of a corpse, just isn’t for me. I feel it’s sacrilegious for one thing – I wouldn’t want to find two people getting it on in front (or on top of) my parents’ graves. And I watch way too many movies to be comfortable with the idea.

When I think of sex in a graveyard, I always think of zombies, their bodies lying beneath the dirt in various states of decay, waiting for Hell to fill, or a priest to hang himself in the Dunwich, so they can walk the Earth.

Imagine: it’s late at night, and only the moon lights the tombstones. You lead me, unwillingly, down the shadowed path, with the only sound the rustle of the leaves as they’re caressed by a soft wind. The shadows are ominous, and you guide me to the grass in front of a grave marker…we kiss, and I give in: I take off my shirt and lie back on the grass. Your mouth kisses mine, then works its way down my body, your breath hot on my skin as I shiver in the moonlight. Your hands cup my ass through my jeans and squeeze as you work at the button on my pants with your teeth.

I have my eyes closed, and, lost in the feeling, as your hands caress my breasts I wonder how they can be in two places at once. Your fingers feel rough on my nipples, and I begin to notice an earthy smell, with something darker underneath. I sit up with a shriek, startling you. The hands hold my breasts tight, and the rotting fingers dig into my tender skin. Now I feel the bony ribs on my back and the dead breath on my neck; I hear the teeth chattering in a decomposing skull. You pull me free, and we run, praying the moon isn’t hidden by clouds.  It might have been better if it were, as we see the corpses rising from the ground, clawing their way from the grave, and the cemetery becomes filled with the cries of the dead….

No matter how amorous or horny I was, I would not be able to keep thoughts like that out of my head…my imagination would run wild, and I would see the decaying bodies, and start to hum: “…the worms crawls in, the worms crawl out…”  At which point I’d either giggle or scream, and either would totally kill the mood.

Can we go to the football field now?

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Wicked Wednesday: The Key

keysAlice tried to remember who had given her the key…she examined it, nestled amongst the others on her chain, its silver gleaming, not dull or worn….she rubbed it between her fingers, feeling the hard, cold metal, and the tip of one finger traced the dips and valleys that would unlock the yet unseen door.

She closed her eyes and a memory took shape behind her lids… he had been hard like the key, in her hand…between her fingers…deep inside her…she leaned back in her chair, her free hand reaching down inside her pants, tracing circles on her clit as her other hand continued to caress the key.

The memories came back….his breath, hot on her skin, her nerve endings on fire as he kissed his way down her throat….lingering on her nipples, sucking each one into his mouth as his hands grasped her ass…her stomach trembling as he kissed her belly button, then went lower…and she spread herself to him.

Alice’s fingers rubbed faster, and she grew wet as memories of him flooded back….and when she came, she cried out his name… When her breathing steadied, Alice opened her eyes and knew she’d be using the key that night.


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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked