She squatted astride him, fistfuls of chest hair anchoring her as she lowered her aching space down onto his completion. Her buttocks tensed, muscles under soft skin rippling, and his head nestled against her depths. A small cry escaped her, a basic sound, a plea, whether for more or less he couldn’t be sure. The sweaty, smooth skin of her thighs married with the outside of his stomach, and for a moment, they both stayed frozen, as if neither wanted to be the first to break the spell.
Then she gave up and shifted, hands to the headboard pressing her back and down onto him, his girth spreading her, hands moving to her waist to root her there. She slowly ground down as he slowly ground up, the tension of friction the only thing giving pleasure, and yet such pleasure it gave. She gasped again, his name or a prayer or both, but his ears were more interested in the animal sounds they made, sounds older than humanity, exchanging a dingy hotel room for the bower of a smoky cave or the boll of a tree, where men first learned that there was more to mating than penetration. She lifted herself and pressed down again, the absence making the reunion that much fonder, and he felt her joy, riding high.
I was deep inside her, fistfuls of her gorgeous flesh throbbing between my fingers, when I realized that we were alone. “Where are Mark and Cindy?” I asked, slowing my pace.
“They went to get some air,” she said with a smile. “Why do you care?”
“Because it’s not the same without them,” I said, looking over at the tousled sheets of the other bed. “I like to hear them.”
“I’m not enough for you?” she pouted, but gave it the lie by tightening her cunt deliciously.
“Of course you are,” I hastened to reply, petting her flanks. “It’s just...”
“I know,” she said, leaning down to lie on my chest, her hips moving slightly, suggestively, temptingly. “I knew after the first time it wouldn’t be the same without them.” She kissed me, then looked into my eyes. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Why would I be jealous?” I asked, wrapping her in my arms and gently pressing up into her.
“Because she’s your wife.”
“And he’s your husband.” I kissed her again. “It doesn’t matter. I just like them there. Beside us. It feels...” I trailed off as she kissed me again, our movements becoming more animated. We didn’t notice when they returned and resumed their own lovemaking in the bed next to ours, but it felt right.
Twin beds. Same room? I don't know. I wasn't really thinking of linking them in any way, but who knows, maybe the first is the story of the couple who got some air in the second.
I had the second idea first, but as I was writing it, it turned into the first one, so I had to write another for the idea. Something like that. Probably more coherent. I liked the picture because it was framed in an interesting way; if I'd had the inclination, I could have written a third one which was about her leaving her bed to join him in his (and I have some ideas in that regard, but not the energy) but as it is, I think two fits the concept better.
The first one wasn't inspired by the Bob Dylan song (You Ain't Goin' Nowhere, for which I wish I had a good youTube to demonstrate, but you can look it up), but after I wrote the last line, I heard the song in my head, although it's not in an easy chair. It's a decent song, although Dylan's version isn't the best version of it (sacrilege I know). I heard some friends and acquaintances singing it around a fire once which was just magical. But it's a pretty silly song, if you dig down to the lyrics. Ah well. I'd say the piece was just fluff, and it started out so being, basically me getting out my "I wanna write something erotic" ya-yas. But then I got to the bit about it being primal, and I thought about that for a while but didn't have enough words to explore the topic further. I sometimes wonder when humans first separated the concepts of sex from the various other entangled concepts, or if we ever did.
The second was the one I wanted to write. The way the picture frames the scene, it's almost screaming the question of why there's not another couple in the other bed, at least to me (although as I said, it could be that they had separate beds and then moved to one). It encapsulates something of a situation I'd like to be in, and have been in, somewhat. I enjoy swapping partners. It's different from a group; there are bits of etiquette which make it more nuanced. I don't know whether this foursome ever switches back, or whether the two guys ever team up on one woman, or anything like that. I think probably not. Maybe they meet at a hotel every so often, wives and husbands swap, and then they enjoy the freedom of being with another partner for an evening while still feeling the intimacy of being with their own partner. It sounds nice in my head, although I'm sure in the real world there might be problems with it. But not necessarily.
Anyway, two, one for each bed. You could fold open the couch, and by that I mean you could throw your own hat into the ring for Flash Fiction Friday. Or you could just peek through the window. But the neighborhood has plenty of windows, and by that I mean that you should head over to FFF headquarters and see what PB and the rest of the gang have written. Don't let your breath steam up the glass too much.
12 comments:
Two lovely takes. The first one is deliciously descriptive. And I love the second because I had the same thought - what's going on in the other bed. :-)
Happy FFF!
@Max: I hope my comment on yours got through; great minds think alike was the gist of it, although yours was also nicely different in certain important aspects. That other bed just screamed to be explained; I doubt very highly if we'll be the only ones who try ;)
They hadn’t seen each other in ages;more than a dozen years at least, since the divorce. But he agreed to help her move, so he flew across the country to drive the too-big rental truck. Hours of endless highway, the monotony of the white line seemed to hypnotize them both. And under the spell of that hypnosis they opened up.
They talked about their separate lives, their interests and of course – sex. It was mostly a superficial chat at first, who they were seeing, past loves; that sort of thing. But the conversational intercourse turned to deeper questions about what got them really hot these days. Talk of fantasies fulfilled and un-fulfilled.
When they found the small motel in the middle of nowhere, it was an oasis of light in the dark desert night. A single room – twin beds would be fine. Yes, of course, nothing wrong with that.
But the long drive, the hot talk and the ceaseless throb of that rental truck diesel had started something humming in both of them. He tried to masturbate quietly, under the sheets – but in the dim light leaking through the cheap curtains, he could see her own hand mimicking his actions.
Without a word, she slipped out of the bed, and crawled into his.
Of course she was wet. Of course he was hard. Of course they fit together perfectly, made for each other.
They were brother and sister, after all.
~ps
@ps: I'm not the submission agent for this particular contest, but hey, if it's me or nothing, glad it's me ;)
I didn't get your comment, but no worries, I appreciate the thought. :-) Exactly right, that other bed just had to be explained.
Do you know, I never even noticed that the other bed's sheets were messed up? I was so focused in on that lovely coupling that I didn't even see anything other than their bed. I always prided myself on being observant, but I have clearly lost some of that. Maybe all of it.
I loved both pieces. The first one has kind of the same emotional feel that mine did (which isn't why I liked it, though), but the second one has a playful, devil-may-care attitude that's very attractive. We should all be so lucky as to have that kind of a relaxed attitude about sex.
Happy FFF. Thanks, as always, for joining us.
-- PB
As usual, I enjoyed both takes. I loved the descriptions in the first story and agree about your question for the second story. I like the way you answered it. ;-) Happy FFF!
@Max: I wonder why the comment got eaten? Comment gnomes?
@PB: At the moment, I wouldn't see a train as it hit me in the face, so don't feel too bad ;)
@TemptingSweets: Good questions ought to get good answers ;)
I love the visual imagery from the first one, and I love the twist from the second story. Both very nice complement to each other! I never noticed the other used bed.
@France: Sherlock Holmes I ain't. I guess it was just how the picture was framed that drew my attention to the other bed. No judgments on those who couldn't take their eyes off the cute backside ;)
I too liked the idea of two people in two beds crossing the line. I thought about twins, cousins, friends, roommates, there are so many combinations of people that want to, but don't, get together.
My favorite was the 2nd one, the elusive idea of intimacy shared by more than just two is intriguing. Well done, as always.
@Advizor: There really is a line in that picture, isn't there? I don't know that I had any actual line-crossing in either of mine, but I was thinking about it as I wrote. Yours were much more line-cross-y ;)
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