Image owned by (and of) the beautiful Candy Snatch Reviews
This piece is basically me flexing my fingers in practice for #EUPHOFF. To be honest, the only thing sexy about it is the picture of Candy at the top but I’m publishing it anyway cos it made me giggle. Hope it gives you a smile, too.
19-50-CANDY what’s your pleasure…
Uh, yeah. Hi. So I, uh, I was cruisin’ just now and decided to hit Jenny’s for an ice cream float. While I was takin’ a leak, I lamped your picture stuck to the wall. I don’t usually… but wowee, you are one hot mama. A total knockout. Anyway, the card said to give you a bell for a good time and I couldn’t resist callin’.
Tell me what you want, Big Daddy… Continue reading “Dial 19-50-CANDY”
Image owned by Adrian Kenney
“Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!”
Ugh, I should have grabbed a towel to dry my hands instead of my t-shirt, my belly feels all clammy with dirty dishwater. Shit, I’m breaking my fucking neck, now! Chew toys all over the floor again, this sodding dog! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, no, don’t…
I always get to that damned phone a second after it stops ringing. Charlie can whine all she likes, I’m gonna have the landline taken out altogether, it’s a pain in my arse. There’s no point to it anyway now that everyone and their dog has a mobile. See, mine is buzzing right now and I don’t have to flee all over the house to answer it cos it basically lives in my pocket. It’s something I will never, ever misplace. Continue reading “Just One More”
Image used with permission of Cara Thereon.
Isabelle has come to me ready to play, wearing nothing but a grass green leather harness that frames her perky tits and runs down her belly to disappear somewhere in her crotch. Her black hair is lightly perfumed by the wintersweet tucked into her braids, and her skin is sprinkled with a fine glitter powder that sparkles red and gold beneath the halogen stars in the hall ceiling.
It really pains me to take her coat and bundle her through the spare room door, but I make myself do it. I make myself stuff her hand-written instructions into her palm, and I force myself to close the door and lock it. Then I lean against it for almost five minutes, waging a war with desire. I want to free her, to take her over my knee and blister her ass cheeks with my palm before shoving my fingers into her cunt until she soaks my jeans. Continue reading “Entertain Me”
I have a secret. I’ve kept it ever since I was eighteen, and I’m forty-eight now. Not even once have I considered sharing it. Nobody would believe me if I did. Hell, sometimes I don’t even believe it, I’ve managed to convince myself that it’s all in my head many a time. But then I’m faced with it again and I can’t deny that it’s real. Implausible, fantastical, but absolutely real.
You’re probably wondering what my secret is, and do you know what? I think that now…yes, I am ready to divulge it now… Continue reading “Narcissistic Fairy Tale”
Do I love her?
Every time I pass her in the street my heart forgets the meaning of rhythm. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, my lungs shrivel up because all the moisture in my body is spreading over the surface of my skin.
I stare at her so brazenly, even during the day, it makes the pedestrians around us snigger. How can they not see that her beauty is unrivalled, even in a city of millions? From the flowers in her hair to her ever-obscured eyes and pillowy lips, she’s perfection.
Yes, during the day I stare, but only at night do I approach. Continue reading “Abstract Love”
There are thirty-seven men from all walks of life crammed around eight small tables in this tiny room. We’re so close to each other I can see pores in the skin of the guys beside me. We’re half drunk, tired and wired, yet you wouldn’t even need to be paying attention to hear a pin drop at the other side of the room.
What silenced us? Anticipation. The air is so thick with it I can almost smell it. We all know what’s coming. We’re all here for the same thing, we’re all so hungry for it a soft tap on the head of a microphone was all it took to put every one of us into a trance-like state. Continue reading “A Dystopia We Deserve”
When I get home the light in the kitchen is on. It’s Tuesday so the scent of Chinese spice is strong in the hall. I expect Alan to be by the sink, cursing out our son because he can’t find the steel soap stone to shift the whiff of garlic from his hands. Thomas is always misplacing that bloody thing. But the kitchen is empty. Where have they gotten to?
I give the chicken that’s marinating in a glass bowl a quick shake. Smile at a note from Thomas telling me he’s staying with Julie tonight, so that’s his whereabouts solved. Then I open the kitchen window so that the cat can get in for her six o’clock feed. Continue reading “Dancing With Himself”
If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d ever come back to this town I’d have laughed in their face. I would have laughed hard and would still have been laughing when the dust kicked up by the screeching of my motorbike tyres billowed into their mouths to choke them.
You know what would have been even funnier than that? If someone had said the reason I’d come back would be Courtney. Continue reading “Taking My Own Advice”
If I was less drunk I might have been self-conscious about the headboard smacking off the wall. I might have made an effort to cover Adam’s mouth. And I would definitely have opted to wear a condom.
But, as being drunk goes, I’m probably the worst I’ve ever been, and I’m giving my date such a hard, bareback anal fucking the headboard has been knocking holes into plaster for going on half an hour. Adam’s been hollering ‘Oh God, fuck yes!’ so loudly I wouldn’t have been surprised if the Almighty descended from heaven in corporeal form, just to tell him to shut the fuck up. Continue reading “Awakening the Wet Dream”
Every now and again, I don’t hear your alarm. It goes off at 4:45 whenever you work days and I usually grumble quietly, nudging you to try to get you to turn it off quicker. But sometimes I’m so deeply asleep I don’t even stir. You get up, stretch, knock over your roll-on deodorant in the dark and mutter for fuck’s sake while you retrieve it from under the bed.
After your trip to the bathroom you get dressed, jangle your keys and money into your pockets before snuffling out a soft laugh because I’m either lying with my bum in the air, or my arm draped across your bedside table, or with one brave foot jutting out from my cocoon if it’s a chilly morning.
And on those mornings when sleep chooses not to let go of me, I’m oblivious to it all. Continue reading “Almost Cold”