Little Bo Peep

Little Bo Peep


by Gary



Little Bo Peep had fallen asleep.



Again.



She was gently woken by John the Woodsman to say she had lost her sheep.



Again.



John said he’d help her look.



So, she gave him a grateful kiss.



Then she was on her knees, head bobbing on cock. Back, forwards, deeper; spade-like hands holding her in a Woodsman’s grip.



She paused. A sound. People approaching?



John heard, covered her ears, pushed further. He came in huge spasms, a thunderous roar, Bo desperately swallowing.



As Johns mist cleared he saw Bo’s sheep returning.



The sheep he’d hidden.

Wagging their tails behind them.
 
 
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Awesome !


Riendo

Local Flavor

Local Flavor
by Nocturnal Submission

“You’ve been devouring me from a distance and I don’t even know you.”

“I’m a food critic doing a piece on local flavor.”

“Want a private tasting? Top of the parking garage, 10 minutes. Be late, you’ll miss the 1st course.”

I kept my reservation, she was thoroughly prepared. “Sign says shoes, shirt…no service”, she commanded. I complied with house rules and was blown away by prompt service and total attention to detail.

"Well?” She asked.

“4 stars. How about the full menu?”

“Sorry, no seconds till everyone gets firsts” and she departed as the area’s best kept secret.

By Nocturnal Submission


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Strands

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Flash Fuck Me: Why?

Flash Fuck Me: Why?

Why?
By @antalianna

The air was thick with smoke that clung to our bodies and tugged at our senses as the musicians wove their stories into our consciousness.

The music surged with my blood and I felt my soul expand to fit my body.

The stranger whose gaze I had met was against me and our movements were one.

Her hands found their way first to my breasts and then to my yearning dampness and I was overtaken by want.

She leaned in as though to catch my lips and I began to climax as she whispered “ Why would you fuck my husband?”



photo by me
riendo

Love not War

Riendo

Gloves

Gloves
by Aurora Hunter

"Leave them on," she said, as he started to remove his driving gloves.

"My gloves?" he asked.

"Yes. If you’re wearing them, then it's the gloves that are touching me, not you. So then it's okay."

"Your game, your rules." he said softly, and traced her arm with his fingers still encased in black leather.

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes as his hand – no as the glove – stroked her body. He rubbed her nipples, the leather warm and smooth. The rose pink tips puckered in excitement, and a low moan escaped her lips.

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Flash Fuck-tion: Mind Your Manners

Mind Your Manners
by Miz Angell

His hand grasps my hair; yanks my head back.

“Please.” I whisper.

His teeth sink into my neck. My thighs get soaked. “Please.”

His other hand reaches under my skirt, finding me wet. I bite my lip. He sinks his fingers into me violently.

“Please” I moan.

His tongue licks my lobe, trailing down to my collarbone, his fingers continuing their invasion.

“Please.”

His thumb finds my clit, repeatedly pushing that button. I’m so close to coming.

“Please.” I whimper.

His tongue replaces his thumb. My pulse throbs. My body falls. I shatter.

“Thank you.” He whispers.



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Flash Fuck-tion, Music her release

MUSIC, HER RELEASE
by Andrea Dale

Front row to see her favorite band. Nobody would think twice about her leather collar.

Except he’d found a new one, with clamps attached. Chains dangled from the collar into her low-cut shirt. People know what a slut she was.

If they didn’t, he’d flip up her skirt to expose the stripes from her caning.

He toyed with the remote to the vibrator stuffed in her, ratcheting up her need to come. Growling in her ear between songs in exquisite detail how she’d be forced to orgasm publicly in front of the entire audience. In front of the band.


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Subway By The Curator

'Subway'
by The Curator

I’m not pretty, but it doesn’t matter because I smell like sex. It’s rush-hour Monday. I wedge into the most crowded subway car I can find. I choose carefully, forcing my barely concealed musk-colored tits hard against the chest of a Wall-Streeter wearing a light colored, expensive suit. I meet his already smoldering eyes. Silently, I thrust my hips into his instantly hard cock and grind. The train jerks and so does he. I jump off, glancing back to see his shocked face and the dark wetness spreading across the front of his sharply-creased pants.

These flashers do something filthy to my mind. I mean, searching for the photos in Riendo's flickr, and reading the words repeatedly to find a picture that works, together that action puts me in such a dreamy state. I'm ready to fall into the sex and danger and heat and motion of the day.


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http://flashfuckme.blogspot.com/?zx=9d970b6ec8fd9096

Trollop with a Laptop: Flash Fuck-tion: Silent Images

Trollop with a Laptop: Flash Fuck-tion: Silent Images

Silent Images
Ruby Kiddell

Silent images danced on the wall of the bar.
The thrusting, filling, wetting, spilling close up of a cunt being fucked.

The waitress circulated, beads of condensation trickling down the champagne glasses just as the cum trickled down the legs of the body on the screen.

As the pace on the wall increased, the camera pulled away, slowly exposing more and more of the pliant flesh.

Voice by voice the room quieted, until finally the panting, gasping release of the soundtrack could be heard.

The final close up, a face in orgasm’s bliss.
The waitress had never looked so beautiful.

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