Blessing in Disguise

It has been too long since I posted something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't I'll come in again.

Going a bit crazy here.  Yep.  The ol' banana.  The ol' mixed nut bowl.  The ol' fantasy-land bingo.  The ol' crazy potato covered in crazy cheez and being eaten through a crazy straw.  I have no idea what I'm saying.

Oh, that's right, that's what I wanted to say.  I'm really, really sorry that life has forced my blog-ly activities into a slump.  This has been a pretty good year for the blog, all told; I've written more posts than in any year previously, and if you assume that I'm writing about as many good posts per capita as before, that means that I've increased my output of the good stuff, not just the bad stuff.  Maybe not.  But whatever.  November, as I warned at the start, has sucked donkey scrotum for very small sums of money, so it's a whore but a cheap one, and it probably takes less money because it likes sucking donkey scrotum.  And then it goes home and beats its fourteen crack-addicted babies, all of whom are named after famous TV chefs.  November is a cheap, lying, trashy, selfish whore, and I hate it.  Now, where was I?

Oh yeah.  So I've been ball-bustingly busy, as November has apparently grafted balls to my body while I wasn't looking just so it can bust them.  And thus, my blogging is not the only thing which has suffered.  My social agenda has been somewhat muted as well.  And I've been snippy to people, and tired, and grouchy, and just basically November sucks.

Sveta has returned to college, and here's where the title of this post comes in.  Because if I weren't so fucking busy and tired, I would probably be miserable missing her.  As it is, I barely have the energy to miss her a little, let alone enough to be torn up about it.  And I don't have the energy to feel guilty about not having the energy to miss her too much.  Some "blessing," right?

Also, she'll be back in just a few short weeks.  I know, whoever decided that Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only times to visit your family is a fucking moron and I hate them.  There should be a holiday halfway through each semester.  But there it is; I get to see her soon, after a long drought.  I don't like "gh" words.  We should spell drought "drout" and draught "draft" and through "thru" and rough "ruff" and... wait, who am I?  I don't think that.  Not really.  I don't like mangling words.  GH is a linguistic heritage that texting and idiots are going to eliminate, and then we'll never understand our roots.

Ah, off-topic again.  So yeah, I am in no position to tell some of the stories I want to tell.  If I tried, I would wander off in the middle and get run over by a truck.  They wouldn't hold up to my strict standards of quality (yeah, right).  Thus, you'll just have to wait a bit longer.

But I'll give you a preview.  I have some Sveta and me stuff from Thanksgiving, and I have some stuff from work, and a bit of follow-up on some of our repeating characters (I like to call them that because it makes me feel like I'm living in a sitcom rather than a documentary on slave-labor), plus some stuff with just Sveta spreading her wings a bit.

I'm still here.  Where here is, and who I am when I'm here, that's anyone's guess.

Thanks

I'm really sorry that posts have been quite thin this month; believe me, I'd much rather be writing about fun stuff than doing crappy stuff.  And I have some things to write about once I get a chance.  Thanks for your continuing patience.

So I'm just stopping in briefly to wish everyone, everywhere, a happy day.  I don't care if you don't do Thanksgiving, or you (like me) hate turkey, or you're all alone with no one to love.  Please have a good day.  Fuck commercialism, fuck holiday expectations, fuck all of that.  Just have a good day, and then get back on the horse tomorrow.  I know that's what I'm going to do.

And live in anticipation, because boy oh boy am I bubbling over with things I could blog about but haven't the time.

Sveta's Here

Yeah, you're getting a one-sentence post; read that heading and tell me why.

Flash Fiction Friday - The Doorguard and The Demon

The Doorguard

She stood there, wantonly naked, having come from his room, hair disheveled post-coitally, eyes somewhat vacant in that well-fucked sort of way. She wasn't looking in my direction, and I drank her in with my dilated pupils, the drugs making things swim slightly. I must have lost my balance; I put out a hand to steady myself and heard the stairs creak distantly. For a moment she seemed not to notice, and I sighed with relief, hoping not to spoil things, which of course shifted my weight and made them creak again.

"Hey, want to clean me up?" She asked without looking at me, so I wasn't even sure she was addressing the question to me or to another unseen watcher.

On my knees before her, tongue inside her, and she was lighting a cigarette, breathing smoke that joined the haze in the air. She tasted of him, and I wished I'd never given myself away, because all I really wanted was for her to leave and let me creep silently into his room where I could taste firsthand.

The Demon

Second-hand smoke and cunt-smells and the sweet stink of burned flesh. She answered my summons in the hallway with another shadow tonguing her. "Yeah? We haven’t got all day."

"I have another wish."

"Course you fuckin' do. They always do." She conjured another of her numberless black cigarillos from somewhere, put great concentration into lighting it as if dismissing my problem. "Let's hear it," she said finally, reaching down to press the head of her servant deeper into the space between her legs. "Fuck sake, do it like you mean it, bitch."

"Marietta. I want to bed her."

The queen laughed. "Course you fuckin' do." She sucked in a breath, either from pleasure or just to take in the smoke, I couldn't be sure. "Come here. Give us a kiss and we'll tell you how it'll be.”

The stairs creaked, her arms wrapped around me, pulling me, or perhaps just a part of me, close, and her tongue wormed into my ear and I forgot myself for an instant as the infernal knowledge entered me like a knife.

---

I had two ideas, and I decided to go with both.  I don't intend them to be connected in any way this week; they were both inspired by the picture.  I didn't use the phrase in the second one, but they're both under the limit words-wise., although the second one could have been much longer if I hadn't constrained it.

The first one was somewhat organic; I just wanted to write something about coming upon a naked woman in the hallway and giving her head.  Why not, right?  But after I wrote the first half, I realized that what our intrepid heroine was trying to tell me was that she really wanted something else.  The naked woman could have been coming from anywhere, but she was coming from a man's room, and thus, the end.  Sometimes characters will write their own stories.  I could have shoehorned things, but I chose to let it happen.  I know I would have preferred for it to be another way; it's not always about a guy.

The second was mostly because of the shadows and the fact that I can almost see a tail where the kneeling woman has her hand.  I've always thought that demons would probably appear with underlings doing unspeakable things to them, if they were looking to impress or intimidate sexually.  I enjoyed this one, not because I'm particularly into diablerie, but because I sort of like the character.  She has an accent like a character from a Guy Ritchie film, she smokes thin black cheroots, she refers to herself in the third person, and she has hot-and-cold running sex on demand, mostly just to show off.  I don't like evil, but it's a character who's fun to write.  And she doesn't seem to have to work hard on this guy; he's selling himself without any sales pitch on her part.  He's just an idiot.  I hope Marietta doesn't get hurt.

And the titles were basically just things which came to me, but put them together and you've got a title which should probably have already been written by R. A. Salvatore or similar.  Hence, my homage to silly fantasy titles.  Coming soon: The Minstrel and the Mage, followed in 2012 by The Warden and the Warrior, all part of the Eyeless God saga.

I'm thrilled that Flash Fiction Friday is back, the PB is back, and that the picture this week was so sexily inspirational (and thanks to Sephi for that).  You know you want to join in.  Course you fuckin' do.  They always do.  Heed the siren song.  Head over to Flash Fiction Friday.

Going With the Flow

Sometimes you have to just lie back and watch the world spin by.  I could have said, "lie back and enjoy it," but that seems both disrespectful to rape victims and also implies that one must enjoy things, which is crap.  There are many things that can be taken, but not necessarily enjoyed.  And anyway, this isn't about enjoyment, it's about letting things happen and not trying to control things that can't be.

Pam (you remember Pam?  She's a tag over on the left, if you don't) is glowing.  She's taken to pregnancy really well.  She's barely even showing, but she has this mother-to-be look that's just sexy as hell.

I suppose I should back up.  So Pam's keeping the baby.  And it sounds like she and Kirk are okay with that.  I haven't heard any wedding plans mooted, but in this day and age and so forth.  They've got a few months to get used to the idea yet.  I'm not saying it's an ideal situation, but what is, really?

Anyway, she's glowing.  Yesterday was my day off, sort of, and in the afternoon I got a message from her asking if I wanted to come over.  I ticked it over for a while in my brain, I'll admit; I wasn't feeling terribly social, but on the other hand I haven't had any fun in a while now.  So I finally said, "Hey, sure, I'll be over this evening after dinner."  Going with the flow.  Can you sense a theme?

Before dinner, Dad came home and had to leave soon thereafter for a meeting, and it came down to whether to eat a rushed dinner or have a bit of sex with his girl, and I'm pleased to report that sex was what was chosen.  It was actually the first time we'd had a chance in days, and I wish we could have had more time.  I was in my undies in preparation for going out later, having showered and performed my various ablutions, and when he said, "Girly, got fifteen minutes for your old man?" I just pulled my panties back off and got on all fours.  He just pulled his pants down and got behind me, and when his hands gripped my waist I felt a little tingle which shortly blossomed into orgasm as he thrust into my cunt without needing to aim.

I went to Pam's with cum still oozing around inside me.  I didn't think it would be a big deal.  She and Kirk were both there watching TV, Kirk in nothing but a pair of shorts, Pam in a nightgown.  I was all set to say, "Oops, sorry, I'm too late, I should go," but they invited me in, said they were expecting me.

Pretense dropped like a ton of bricks, because I'm on something of a low-tact diet at the moment.  "You two want to fuck?" I said, almost not questioning it.

"Pam told me how she kissed you," said Kirk.  "I'd like to see that again."  And he pulled off his shorts and was standing there in the living room with his cock sticking out and bobbing around.  I guess I must have given off the right vibes or something.  "You wet yet?"

Like I said, he's country-fried.  It didn't seem like he was being all macho, just being down to earth about it.  He wanted it, she wanted it, I wanted it, so why were we still wearing underwear?  Pam looked a little embarrassed, but she pulled her slip over her head and was standing there in panties, which were much better looking than the first ones I saw her in, little lace numbers with a high-cut leg that would have looked like shit on me but for her they worked, possibly because of the slight swell of hips and stomach.

So who was I to hold back?  I mean, I'd just had sex not an hour before, but I was definitely ready for more.  And there I was standing there in a coat in front of two naked people.  It felt awkward to be clothed.  I took my coat off, then pulled my blouse over my head, then pulled off shoes and pants, and finally pulled off my bra and panties for good measure.  "Okay, Pam, wanna show Kirk your stuff?" I asked her, coming close and putting a hand on her shoulder.

She really wanted to try for him, but kissing was all she would do.  Still, it was nice to kiss her, to stroke her a little down her flanks, which were soft and inviting but didn't offer any additional help in terms of desire.  Eventually, I suggested that we suck Kirk's cock together, which she was much more into.  We knelt in front of him, side by side, and he passed his cock from mouth to mouth for a while before he said, "Pammy, open wide," with a grimace and then started to stroke his cock until several jets of cum sprayed into her mouth.  She didn't seem to mind when I cleaned him up and sucked the dregs out of his softening shaft.

"How long have you been planning this?" I asked as we walked toward the bedroom.

"Kirk's been talking about it ever since the first time," said Pam with a little grin.  "I wasn't sure, after... you know, the baby, but I think it'll be good.  You don't mind?"

"Mind?"  I ran a hand down the small of her back to her ass and patted it.  It wasn't really sexual, just sort of friendly.  "Of course not."  With a bit of encouragement, she put her hand on my ass too, just resting it there.  Kirk liked seeing that.

"You want to eat her out again?" he asked me.

Of course I did, but this time I wasn't going to take advantage.  "Pam, you okay with that?"

"I guess."  She smiled a bit thinly, but she lay back on the bed and spread her legs.  Her pussy isn't this little thing like one sees in porno; she has a woman's pussy, full, dark pink, with folds of fleshy lips that spread slightly when she opens her thighs, revealing a ruddy interior just dying to be tasted.  "Do I have to do it to you?"  She was looking at Kirk.  I answered before he had a chance.

"No hun, you don't have to do anything.  You're beautiful; I could just look at you."  Kirk had his hand on his cock stroking, so he probably agreed.

But he said, "Come on Pam, you said you'd try it."  I get the feeling I was in the middle of a debate on what Pam would and wouldn't try.

"I'll stop when you want me to," I said.  She nodded, looking at Kirk, not me.  He was quite close to us, watching, as I began slowly kissing just above her clit, which was already in evidence.  I imagined I could feel her baby inside her too.  I slipped my fingers into my mouth and then ran them over her lips, pressing in slightly but not penetrating, until she was relaxed, then I started slowly moving my middle finger into her passage.  I don't know enough about pregnant women, but she was still quite tight; I imagine that things only loosen up later, or maybe not until after the birth.  Tight for a preggo, anyway.

I noticed that she and Kirk were kissing, his hand on her breast, which had perhaps grown a little since I saw her last, or maybe it was just my wishful mind.  They seemed fuller, if not larger.  Then I was running my tongue slowly over the top of the arch, while my finger curled up a little and stroked her, and she spread her legs wider, inviting me for the first time, so I sucked the nub of her clit, a little smaller than my pinkie, with my lips around the hood, gently, while easing another finger into her.

When she came, it was small and I only knew it for sure because she moaned, "I'm cumming," like she was in a porno.  It was all for Kirk's benefit.  Her hand was stroking his cock, and I was basically nothing more than a sex toy, but it didn't matter.  She got wetter and warmer and I felt her opening a little, and that was all, a slight tension released.

At that point, I was hoping, praying that Kirk might let me keep getting his baby-momma off and get back there and fuck me, but they rolled together, his cock jutting into my ear until I took the hint and moved so he could reach down and insert himself into her, then begin slowly thrusting into her thighs, his balls rocking between his legs, his asshole tensing and relaxing slightly with each thrust.  I got up to the side of them and made myself available, and I got a few kisses, deep tongue-laden snogs, from him as he fucked her.  His hand roved to my breasts too as I lay there next to them.

I was forced to play with myself a little, enjoying the warm bodies next to me but unable to get any real satisfaction from them.  My fingers teased my joy buzzer until I had a small, back-arching O.  Then I went down to see what was going on on the business side, which was when Kirk pulled her onto him and she started riding.  I don't think she minded that I kissed her ass cheeks a little, or stroked his balls with wet fingers until he grunted and I felt the seed race up the passages and into her.  She pulled up immediately upon the first spurt, and the rest spilled out all over, which amused me because it wasn't like she could get knocked up twice.  I guess old habits die hard, and in this case the habit was a really bad one because I'm sure she got enough of it to knock her up had that been possible.

She let me clean him off, but hopped up to clean herself off, and I confess that by the time she got back, my cleaning had led to trying desperately to get him up again for one of my own.  She sat there and watched and stroked her pussy, but made no move to join in.  "Do you two do any anal?" I asked.  "I mean, you'll probably want to add that to the repertoire, after the baby comes."  I don't really know why I said that.

Pam looked a little taken aback, not shocked, just startled, like she hadn't expected me to say it, which I can't blame her for.  "Do you?" she asked.

"Get a condom and watch me go," I said by way of response.  They didn't have any, silly kids, so I ran and got one, by which time I was sure Pam would have upstaged me and started fucking him again.  But when I got back, there she was, there he was, same positions as before, only with an eager look on their faces.  It was really sexy, seeing both of them looking at me like I would be the main attraction.

I didn't have any lube, but the condom was lubed and after I rolled it on him I dipped myself down on him a few times to get some pussy juices working too.  Then I squatted over him, in a position I don't often find myself in anal, and eased my butt down until his head popped into my anus, at which point he said to her, "Wow."  Maybe it was to me, but he was looking at her.  She came closer, and when I prompted, she held his cock up so I could ease down on it, although she seemed a little tense about being so close to my ass.  It's okay; I understand.

Once he was buried in my colon, I sat for a moment, feeling the wonderful fullness, then his hands moved to my hips and started bouncing me a little.  Pam was behind us watching his cock jut up into my asshole, and I felt her stroking his balls beneath me.  We moved for a while, not really moving his cock in and out, just grinding and bouncing, until the pressure of his bone on my clit got me off, and he said, "Wow," again as the orgasm worked through my ass.

After that, I got off and on all fours, and after warning him to be gentle with me, let him work his cock back into my ass from behind.  Pam was right there looking at it; I felt her hand on the small of my back, just above my tailbone.  It wouldn't surprise me at all if they started in on anal soonest; she was fascinated by it.

In the end, he pulled off his condom and shot his load on my back, and Pam hopped up to get me a towel to clean it off.  It wasn't exactly what I would have hoped for; I would have liked my own creampie, or for her at least to clean me up herself.  But it was okay.  And I lay back and let them go off for a few minutes, then come back and fuck again, right next to me, which his hand sometimes delving down to my pussy and stroking me until I came a last, minor time.  He came on her belly, and I couldn't help but lick that up, feeling the warmth inside her, or maybe that was just my imagination.  Soon, when she really starts showing, then I'll be unable to resist kissing her belly as often as I can.

They were curled up, not fucking, just cuddling, but they broke away from each other when I sat up, and Pam even gave me a tentative goodnight kiss, before returning to their cocoon.  They probably fell asleep before I left.  I went home and wished I could have curled up with my own sweetie, but when I called her, she wasn't there.  Ah well.

Anyway, not a bad story, and more fun than I've had in a while.  It didn't really make me feel better afterward, but it took my mind off things.  And since I can't deny that I need to blog about things, I went with it and blogged, even if I had more important things to do.  Can't stop that crazy old world spinning 'round.

Flash Haiku Friday

As there was no Flash Fiction Friday this week, for reasons I hope are nothing more than minor inconveniences, and as I have limited brain-space for much of anything, I've thought of the smallest thing I could do and done it.  Thus, Flash Haiku Friday.  The picture is something I had lying around; I don't know any credits, but I'd be happy to change that if someone else recognizes it.

flowing white silence

betrays energy within

she is the morning

lonely in dawn's light

or has he not awakened

to give her comfort

chill air warm bodies

temptation draws her to bed

day is forgotten

---

Three haiku.  I suppose if I were a scholar of Japanese poetry, I could have chosen a better verse-form for telling an extending story, but the haiku is brevity incarnate, and any of the three could be read in exclusion of the others.  I'm not a huge haiku fan (I'm much more into Chinese poetry, actually), but I do write them on occasion, although usually more as a joke and involving language not ordinarily found in courtly verse.  In this case, I've made an exception.

I thought about doing the haiku so each last line became the first line of the next, but I was too lazy.  There's probably a term for that, but I don't know what it is.

So, here's hoping that PB is okay and Flash Fiction Friday will return next week.  If not, I may start doing my own because it's basically the only thing I do any more.  Feel free to steal the image and use it for your own devices, although you could let me know if you do and I'll link to whatever you do.  Here's where I'd say something about how you should do that, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.

My apologies for the lateness of the hour, but it is still Friday.  Had I been more on the ball, this would have gone up this morning.

Angry

Yesterday was bad. Actually, things haven't been going all that well for a number of days now, but yesterday was a climax of bad. I came home from work (yeah, working weekends sucks donkey scrotum for fun) feeling like I was about to explode and do something I would really, really regret, or possibly just curl into a little ball and never come out again. I was tired, pissy, hurting from numerous bruises and cuts, and just generally wanted to scream.

Dad tried to cheer me up; when he asked if I wanted a bit of cock before dinner, I said, "Yes please," with this extremely hungry glint to my eye because I hadn't had any all weekend. The football game (a football game, I should say, since I can't remember who was playing and I didn't care) was on and I lay back on the couch and tried to let him soothe the itch. But nothing doing. I couldn't just lie there. I wanted to punch him. My own father, whom I love more than anything, and basically I wanted to bite him, claw him, ride him like crazy. And I know he doesn't want that, and what's more, I don't want to do that to him. I normally don't want to do that to anyone.

But it was different. After a minute or so, I basically stopped him, which I almost never do, and said, "I'm sorry Daddy, I'm too pissed off to be a good lay today." With another guy, I might have gritted my teeth and let him finish, but with Dad, I knew that wouldn't work. Also, I knew he wouldn't mind as much. I still felt really bad about it. If Sveta or someone else had been there to take up slack, I would have known that he would get his no matter what, but as it was, he was the one who initiated the action, so he must have wanted it badly enough to do that. Fortunately, at that point Mom came in and heard the conversation, and she said she fancied some herself, so they started making love on the couch while I scowled off, because I couldn't stand to watch them either.

I was no good to anyone. It wasn't good. Not good at all.

I am not a ragefucker. Never have been. Sometimes I like it a bit rough (a bit, not rough enough to qualify for a lot of people), but sex and anger seldom combine to make it a good time for me. And when I like it rough, it's usually one-sided; I like to be done, rather than to do. But last night, I could have given as good as I got.

I wanted (perhaps I still want somewhat) to rip clothes, really rip them, intentionally, pulling and tugging, maybe leaving little red marks on the skin. I wanted to shout obscenities as a cock was shoved into my ass, hard. I wanted to ride him, to force myself down onto him. I might have even indulged in a little slapping, scratching, biting. I wouldn't have been myself.

Some people might read this as a side of me trying to get out, something I should indulge. Please don't think I hold it against people who do enjoy this sort of thing when I say that it isn't. I do not enjoy hurting people, mentally or physically. If I were to have gone out last night and found someone I didn't care about, someone whom I could have done various somewhat unpleasant things to, it would have been a very, very bad thing, and I would have felt really guilty about it. Sometimes my anger controls me and I do bad things, usually non-sexually which is how I know that it's not just a fetish that wants petting.

As it was, I was really in no condition to do anything other than glumly eat dinner and then fall asleep. And I thank whatever lucky star made that so, because I don't want to hurt anyone, sexually or otherwise, and when I do, it would just make me feel worse than I already feel about it. This was not a good kind of hurt. This was ugly and stupid and horrible, and I'm really only talking about it here because I have nothing else to say.

Now I've got to make it up to Dad; I'm feeling more like I need a cuddle now than like I need to throw tableware. I'm really glad Sveta wasn't there for this, although I know she would want to be there, to comfort me in my dark times, all that. But sometimes, you just need to be alone, not because you want to be, but because it's safer for everyone concerned.

Flash Fiction Friday - Car Song Trio

CB

"Breaker 1-9, this is Big Rig Daddy headin' down the freeway and lookin' for love." She could hear the twang of a country song in the background through the static on his CB.

"10-4 Big Rig, this is Top-Down Lady sittin' behind the billboard for Luigi's Pizza on 150 South, lookin' for fun," she said, her voice slipping into the accent without realizing it. "Why not stop by if you're in the neighborhood?"

This was it. Her voice trembled as she said the last words, not from fear but from anticipation. He agreed eagerly, said he was in transit, then signed off. She sat there, waiting, humming softly, fingers toying idly with the snap on her stockings, then reaching down to stroke the silk-covered wetness between. Her small breasts were chilled by the breeze of passing cars, the nipples hard and tender in the shadows. She didn't care if anyone saw.

When she heard the semi pull up behind her with a rumble of engine and a screech of air brakes, she turned to see him getting down from his cab, then sighed with satisfaction. It's not every day a girl gets her driver's license and pops her cherry in the same day. She leaned the seat back and prepared for some trucker love.

---

Drive-In

"It's okay." She'd said it so many times to me before. "It's okay." But it wasn't okay.

We were at the drive-in with the top pulled down, and she was reattaching the strap that had come loose during our fit of passion, not looking at me. The feature was some monster movie from Japan, but neither of us were paying attention to the cheesy plot. We were close enough to the projector to hear it humming softly, or maybe that was the compressor on the freezer where they stored the terrible food they deep-fried to death.

"I know you wanted to go all the way," I said from the back seat, head in hands. "I... I just can't. Not like this."

"Then how?" she asked, a snap in her tone which she instantly regretted. "Jesus, I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, it's my fault," I said, looking up finally. "I just wanted it to be special. But something takes over when we're together; I just want to rip your clothes off, and then when it gets to the moment... I can't."

"It's okay," she said, again, looking at me. Maybe she believed it as she slipped her bra back on. In the car, in total silence, we watched the rest of the terrible movie, then drove home to our separate beds with wedding rings that felt too tight for comfort.

---

To the Metal

"Gun it!" she squealed as I revved the engine, naked ass writhing on center grill. "Oh god, right there, yes, yes!" My foot was to the floor; the car was rocking even though it was safely out of gear. She was cumming. I tried to see, to feel the spasms running through her, to time my foot to them, but in the end, she was in rhythm with the engine, not with me.

She laughed even as she kept pressing her hips down onto the body of the car, right above the drive shaft. Then she reached over and slammed her fist against the horn and wailed as the sound blasted out into the night. It was primal, the sound of horn and engine and girl all rolled into one essential noise of orgasm. Her juices stained the upholstery.

"Okay, I've got to try it," I said with a laugh as she collapsed into the back seat. The engine sat there, humming softly, a raging beast waiting to be unleashed. I undid my garter and then straddled the center of the car next to her, and as I felt the vibrations of it, of him, slowly run up my spine as I ground down, I gasped, then cried out, "Pedal down! Gun it!"

---

Three? Yep, you counted right.  My stringent editorial controls are a bit lax this week; I just don't have the time to pick them over with a fine-tooth comb.  Nor, really, to go into the depth I'd like in the notes.  But some brief words:

I just loved the idea of sitting in a car on the side of the road in nothing but panties and stockings.  I don't know why, but the CB radio connection clicked somehow, and so I knew why our intrepid heroine was waiting in that state of undress.  Then I decided to give it a bit of a twist, because what the hell, I think the idea of hooking up with a trucker on your 16th birthday to lose your virginity is kind of sexy, in a "God I'd never actually do it nor do I want anyone else to" kind of way.  Plus, I liked the sobriquet, "Top-Down Lady" to describe both the car and the driver.  The first one was just a bit of fluff, really.

Number 2 is a bit more awkward.  I wasn't really going for a twist, but rather to explore the difference between horny teenagers and people who are inhibited.  I don't know; it's a bit of a sad story, and I suspect all too common in marriage to build up expectations that one can't possibly meet, then, of course, fail to meet them.  Hell, that's probably common everywhere.  Or is it about the difference between intention and action?  I don't really know.

And then, of course, since I'd put aside the "humming softly" line, not using it as a descriptor of the car's engine, as seemed quite obvious to me, I had to think about things which hum softly, and why not turn a car with a bit of a vibration into... well, you get where I'm going with this.  I don't care if it's physically impractical.  If this car had had a gear shift in the center, I might have used that, since most of the old cars with sticks that I've driven have had a bit of motion in the gear shifter.  Anyway, car as vibrator.  I was going to be a bit more metaphorical about it, but then I just said, "Fuck it," and wrote something simple and fun.

Are all three of these stories connected?  I don't know.  They're just vignettes about cars.

There, I managed to write more fiction than I did exposition of said fiction.  Victory!  If you'd like that same victorious feeling, deep inside, where you're soft and pink (don't tell me you're not soft and pink inside, because everyone is, and I have the graphic crime scene photos to prove it)... where was I?  Oh, yes, feel victorious by participating in Flash Fiction Friday.  Don't murder people just to prove me wrong.

November State of the Blog

I hate elections.  We should all just go back to the tsar.

No, I really don't hate elections.  I just hate campaign ads.  I think the British are much better about it.  Makes me envy Sephi.  Thank God, November will soon bring an end to the ads (I hope).  Not so happily, it will doubtless also plunge us into a nightmare world.  There, I've said enough.

And now, a list of numbered announcements:

1. November is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I'm thinking I may do it again this year.  So this month I shall struggle to write those 50,000-odd perfect little words but wind up writing 50,000-odd terrible ones.  No, I will not be inviting readers.  It's bad enough that I have to read them, let alone allowing someone else to do it.  I wish I could write erotica, but I'd think that was cheating; erotica is too easy and too trashy for me.  Not to malign others' erotica, simply my own.  I will keep doing the Flash Fiction Friday thing, before anyone worries.
2. I believe Sveta may make an appearance just in time to spoil any thoughts of spending any time doing anything but loving her fully and well.  Thanksgiving, maybe?  Maybe?  Please?
3. Work is going to be crazy in November.  With a capital K.  And little googly eyes on all the letters.  Flashing in hot pink neon.  Is neon actually the gas they use to make the hot pink lights?  I don't know.  See, I'll be crazy.  I'm already a bit crazy.

Therefore:

Blogging may get a bit light on the ground during the November-ly month.  Things may happen that go unreported, at least until December.  Comments may go without reply, or perhaps even for days without approval.  Messages may be a bit shirty.  Phones may be unexpectedly disconnected (this only applies to about 3 people though).  Doors may be slammed (that applies to even fewer people).  Hair may be torn, pens may be thrown, throats slashed, bodices ripped, swashes buckled... no, wait, that's a pirate raid.

Anyway, if we drop down to about 1 post a week for the next few weeks, that's why, and I'm sorry and everything, and I wish I were hardcore like some people, but I'm just not.  Also, I must force myself not to use the blog as a means of procrastination.  Like I'm doing right now.  Away with me!

Oh, by the way, congratulations to San Francisco, and Tim Lincecum, your name makes me think naughty things, but your body makes me do nice things, so between the two, I could make you very happy.