Four by Flash #5 – Not Him

Happy New Year! Here’s a piece I wrote during the flash fiction challenge, and specifically as a Kink Bingo fill for the word “silence.” Hope you enjoy!


Michael smiles at the man as his lips wrap languidly around a beer bottle. The stranger is tall and tan, long hair falling into blue-green eyes. The similarities end there, proportions off, not tall enough, muscle and bone sloping in ways that are unfamiliar and wrong. He likes it. Michael takes his time on the bottle, playing it up, and when he returns it to the bar empty, he winks, drops a bill on the counter, and slides off his stool. He walks away confident that by the time he hits the back door, he’ll be followed. He isn’t wrong.

The guy clears his throat as they step into the alley, and Michael turns, smiles, nods.

“I, uh,” the stranger starts.

Michael is on him, shoving roughly against the cool brick, pinning him there with hips, hands, and mouth. The stranger groans, pushes back with his groin. That’s all the encouragement he needs before he shoves his hands down to the guy’s pants, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. He draws back, catching his breath, and the stranger decides to talk.

“I’m Jared,” he laughs shakily.

Michael grunts a response and latches his mouth on Jared’s neck, sucking and biting a bruise.

“How about you?” Jared’s squirming, a low moan rumbling in his chest.

Michael’s wrapped his hands around the guy’s cock now, and it’s leaking, precome oozing out heavily. He slip-slides his thumb through it, strokes the guy steadily. “Don’t wanna talk. Wanna fuck you.” The cock in his hand surges in agreement, and Jared thrusts into Michael’s hand.

Jared nods, exhales hard, and his hands go for Michael’s belt and fly, pushing jeans down to his knees.

When they’re both exposed, Michael takes the time to kiss the guy again, grinding his bare cock against Jared’s. Maybe some other night, under some other circumstances, he’d take this guy home, take his time, do things right. Not tonight. Things are different these days. He tears open the package he’s palmed, slides the slick condom on, and pushes away.

The guy turns, pressing hands to rough brick. Michael lines himself up and just before he thrusts in, he hisses, “Not a fucking sound.” Jared whimpers quietly and nods.

With that, Michael’s inside him, biting his lip against a groan, and he sets a punishing pace, unsure of just who the punishment is really for. His thrusts are hard, pelvis pressing flat against ass each time, and he lets himself focus on the way the stranger’s hair falls into his face, the way sweat trickles down the strong, tan back despite the chill, the tiny, whimpering noises Jared is trying to suppress.

Michael leans forward, wraps a hand around Jared’s cock as he feels the heat pool tight in his groin, strokes expertly with the abundant slick there. Jared groans quietly and comes on Michael’s hand, hot and thick, and Michael follows right after.

As he comes, the only thought that pounds through his head is Not Jake, not Jake, not Jake.

Four by Flash #4 – Her

I decided I should start titling these things, so here, I present to you an erotic lesbian scene, steamy but not explicit, called Her. I wrote this to fill a square on my Kink Bingo writing challenge card, and the square fill was “begging.”


“Please?” Her eyes shined brightly as she looked up at me.

I knew what she wanted, but I was going to make her work for it. “Please… what?”

A huff. She hated this part, always self-conscious, a little shy, even though we both knew that once clothes came off, she wouldn’t be able to stop the filthy things from pouring out of her mouth if she tried. “I just… please?” she asked again, trailing her fingertips along the hem of my shirt, teasing at the top of my jeans.

I shook my head. “Not good enough. I don’t know what you’re asking for.” Lies. I looked away for effect, to remind her that I was in control, let myself get distracted by the flash of skin on the TV screen as a prime time actor pulled his shirt off. I let a little noise escape my throat in appreciation of the man to demonstrate that she wasn’t doing enough to keep me entertained.

I could sense her impatience, her frustration with herself, with me, with the game I was playing. It didn’t matter – this was my game, after all. Every step, every move, every word was calculated to have an impact, to elicit the reaction I wanted out of her.

“Look at you,” I breathed, pushing a lock behind her ear. “So beautiful. So eager. If only you knew how to ask properly, like a good girl.” This would win, I knew. The trickle between her legs would speed up, and she’d be helpless against it.

She whimpered, looked into my eyes and flicked them down. “Please may I take your shirt off?” I nodded, and she started to tug, but my undershirt got caught in the pull and started to come up. I pushed her hand away.

“Ah-ah. You know better.”

She dropped her hands and looked down again, and I marveled at her obedience. “Sorry,” she mumbled, chastened, and went back to work on the black tee, freeing it from my body. Then a beat. “This one too, please?”

I was tempted to deny her, because she was so achingly beautiful when I told her no, because her frustration made her work doubly hard to please me on the next request, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite the vice-like grip I seemed to have on my self control, between the legs I was wet and slick and aching for her already, my nipples hard and waiting for her clever mouth. “Yes,” murmured.

I was kneeling on the bed, with her seated between my legs, and I felt powerful, strong, with this lovely, obedient woman beneath me. With me topless, she teased at the line of my jeans, and I could hear her breath hitch.

“How about these?”

“Hmm. You haven’t worked hard enough for those.” I dipped down to kiss her, slid a hand between her legs as I did, pressed my fingers into the heat there. It was all I could do to bite back a moan, but she didn’t bother with quiet. Her fingers pushed my jeans down as far as she dared, and she discovered nothing beneath them other than the swell of my ass. I could feel her getting wetter as I rubbed her there, and my body matched her reaction.

“This, then?” She pressed against the black satin fabric of my bra. No matter what it looked like, I knew I was completely powerless then, and I let her have me.

Four by Flash #2

I’ve decided to keep sharing my flash fiction stories. Below is a het story, explicit oral sex scene. Proceed at your own discretion.


Vince leaned against the wall of the club, watching. She was pressing her body against some idiot, a guy who was a fool if he thought he’d end up taking her home. Vince knew this was her way of playing cute, of making him think he’d have to work for her. She wanted to feel like he’d come crawling for her. But he knew her better than she knew herself, knew that all he had to do was insist and she’d be his.

Tired of the game, he downed the last of his drink, whiskey that burned but not hot enough. His eyes flashed and he leveled a look at her, hooked a finger in the air, insisting now. Without hesitation, Becca came to him.

Without warning, Vince walked away, towards the single stall bathroom with a locking door. He slipped inside and waited, Becca following within seconds. In a rush, she moved to him, slid her hands up his neck and into his hair, tugged him down for a kiss. He gave in, but only just, and then pushed her away.

“On your knees,” he muttered, voice like gravel.

Becca moaned and dropped instantly, hands fumbling eagerly at Vince’s belt, tugging his tight jeans down until just enough of his flesh was exposed. She knew better than to try to undress him completely. He saw her spread her legs farther open on the filthy bathroom floor, and he felt himself surge in response to the gritty defilement of something so beautiful.

He was leaking already, his head glistening, cock rock hard as she tugged him free of his clothes. Even with the whiskey in his veins, he wouldn’t last long tonight. It had been too long, she was too much. Becca opened her mouth and swallowed him down. He hissed, dropping his head against the wall, and his hips stuttered forward. He dropped a hand to fist in her hair.

Becca was very good at this, and they’d played this game maybe a hundred times before, and before long, the precome was leaking out of him so heavily that it slithered out of the corners of her mouth, mixed with her saliva. She took him as deeply as she could, his head pressing against the firm, soft, unforgiving back of her throat, and then he felt her swallowing, muscles contracting around him.

It wouldn’t be long now, he knew, and he struggled to straighten himself a little, to look down and watch. Her lips, pink and wet and a little swollen, were stretched around his length, and he could see little flashes of tongue as she worked to draw it out of him, vibrations along his shaft while she moaned in submissive pleasure. Within seconds, he was coming, in hot, thick ropes surging down her throat, and she gulped greedily, unwilling to waste a drop.

When she’d swallowed it all, she stood and rubbed her crotch against his thigh, wanton. He only laughed and rewarded her with a kiss.