May 212010

She was a tomboy. Always played with the boys, and played as rough as the boys. But the day she showed up for touch football in a wife-beater sans bra….they looked at her a little different.

After the others had gone, they hooked up.

Right there on the field, in the dirt.



clothes-ripping fucking.

He was pleased to note that she fucked as roughly as she played football.

This post brought to you by:

“Your challenge for this Friday, 5-21-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 52-72 words. As usual, nobody’s checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you’re breaking them to earn a spanking….in which case, see me after class.”

Apr 232010

Ana’s challenge all semester has been her professor. To break his will. Make him break his rules. She’s sneaky about it, too. Today when she walked into the classroom, her skirt wasn’t quite that short. She lulled him into a sense of security, she let him see her come through the door in a fairly modest mid-thigh pleated skirt. She knew better and knew he wouldn’t allow her up at the chalkboard wearing something slutty, something tempting. So when he wasn’t looking she rolled up the waistband of her skirt to just the right (practiced) length. Just enough to show the tops of her thigh-highs….enough to show off her panties in the right circumstance.

When she spun around after finishing the equation, she caught him staring and blushing.

And as the class let out 15 minutes later…..

“Ana, may I speak with you please? Meet me in my office. Now.”

See who else is playing….

Oct 302009

I’ve decided to try out this weekly thing called Flash Friday Fiction, where you write a post based on the photo provided that is 100 words. I just couldn’t keep it at 100 words, I tried but couldn’t get my mind’s vision down to just 100 words. Click on the banner to join in or see what others’ takes were on this photo!



I saw her last Halloween in my neighbor’s window. Naked and beautiful, only a whisper of presence. She looked at me; once she knew she had an audience she touched herself seductively. But she was gone soon; I thought perhaps I imagined it.

This year she proved me wrong. This year she was in MY house. I watched, aroused, as she continued her show from last year. Floating mid-air, reclining as if she were on a bed, she began to masturbate for me. As her pace increased she became more opaque; she glowed. Her silent climax ended with a burst of light and heat.

I couldn’t see her anymore but I still felt her presence. I disrobed and mimicked her actions. As I climbed to my own orgasm I felt her – cool purposeful caresses across my breasts and cunt. As I climaxed I could swear I felt the pressure of a another person on me and in me.