Week twelve? That’s three months? Wow. How time flies when you’re [insert cliche].
Well, welcome to Five Minute Fiction. That means we write fiction. In five minutes. Shocker, I know.
The Rules
* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose in any style or genre
* You must directly reference today’s prompt: Lust
Note: The prompt is the word, the picture’s just for decoration and/or inspiration.
photo by fenchurch
* Post your entry as a comment to this post.
That’s it. I’ll close the contest at 1:45. I think we know how this works, but if you are confused or just want to whine, feel free to email me.
At the close of the contest, this week’s guest judge, Noelle Pierce, @noellepierce will nominate five finalists. I’ll put the nominees in the poll on the side of the page, and at 9:30 PM EST I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.
For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, or follow me on twitter.
What’s the prize? Well, nothing, obviously. But we’ll all agree to tweet and/or blog about the winner of today’s contest so their fame and fortune will be assured.
A Few Notes:
* In the interest of time and formatting, it’s best to type straight into the comment box. It’s also smart to do a quick highlight and copy before you hit “post” just in case the internets decide to eat your entry.
* I reserve the right to remove hate speech or similar but I’m not too picky about the other stuff.
* This is all for fun and self-promotion. So be sure to put your twitter handle at the end of your post and a link to your blog if you have one.
Clouds, sky the color of rain, and her.
She’s lying beside me. Her breathing soft little sighs like the breath of wind on the meadow.
I’m watching her, and I’ve never been so happy. Never knew there was such happiness as this.
Not just sated lust, not just dreams come to fruition, but I have become the man I swore I’d be. I have taken her, as I swore I word, have possessed and controlled her and claimed her. And now she is mine, forever and forever.
Her breathing slows. Becomes fainter and fainter. It’s almost gone, and I feel the delicious anticipation. Will this breath be the last? Or this one? Or this one?
She’s gone pale but she’s still so beautiful. I’ll always remember her this way. Her breath stolen with all-consuming kisses and the poison I’d saved just for her.
I knew the moment I laid eyes upon it that I had to have it. The latest 31-series M28xI3’s. The best gun out there. No one made guns like the Aratiers and of course, I had to have the latest and best. I don’t think my wife would understand the desire for that power. I told her and she just said, “Why are you lusting after a lump of metal, when you could have this?”
Of course she took off her clothes then, and being that she is my wife, not to mention a system renowned singer, I had to momentarily forget about the 31-series laser gun. But not forever. I’d figure out how to it. I just had to think about what to sell or how to get the cash to buy it. When I set my mind to it, I can get anything, be it gun or singer.
Andrew
@snowppl
“You can love or you can lust.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Those who lust, leave: those who love, linger.”
He grabbed his keys and slammed the door. Now, she knew where she stood.
Jules Carey
*I know this is short, but I’ve been reading hint fiction all morning. Apparently, it’s stuck!*
“Step right up, one and all!” Screamed the top hat clad and bright red tuxedo-wearing host. “The Carnival is now open! Come! Witness!! You will see things that amaze and terrify you!”
I turned to my buddy Carl and nudged him.
“See? Terrify. Toldcha this place’d be awesome!”
We bought our tickets at the main gate and the man in the gaudy tux smiled at us “These young ones have the right idea folks! Come join us!”
Carl and I wandered through the brightly colored tents and booths, trying our hand (and losing) at a couple of the arcade games.
At the center of the carnival was what I really came to see. The largest of tents was setup to display all the carnival freaks in one place. But I only wanted to see one freak in particular.
We hesitated outside the main flap as Carl said “I really don’t wanna go in, Josh.”
“Don’t be a baby,” I chided. “We’re both thirteen now!”
I saw Carl scrunch his face up in determination–the ‘baby’ comment always got him.
Inside, we went.
There were chairs in a circle around the center ring of the tent. Along the sides were the freaks of nature as promised, but I was here for the main event. The one freak we’d grown up hearing stories about.
Carl and I grabbed a seat upfront. The rest of the chairs filled up quickly.
The host, in his gaudy best, took center stage.
“I see our reputation precedes us!” He said in obvious glee. “Well then, let’s get started!”
“This creature used to rule our world! Many years ago, before the great burn, it was the dominant life form before we took over!” There was a smattering of laughter.
“Bring it forth!” the host screamed.
There was a gasp as a creature, easily twice as tall as Carl and I, was brought into the center ring in chains. It was as ugly as it was hairy. Pinkish skin could be seen through the dirt, grime and hair. It jabbered and hissed at us. There were a few screams and Carl hid his eyes. Baby.
I loved it. It was everything a thirteen year old could lust over in a monster show.
“Behold, gentle invertebrates! This is what was called ‘Human!’” Our six-pincer applause rocked the tent.
@rbwood
http://www.rbwood.com
Oh! My lust was stirred by the story just posted at http://pornrus.com.
The story was all about her being serviced by a mechanical masseuse. It ran sensuously up and down her torso, and then proceeded to to the same to her legs. and finally her feet and toes.
All I could imagine was the same thing happening to me, but by my wife not a mechanical masseuse.
My wife happened in to the room. She did a quick read of what was on the screen and proceeded to give me the best massage ever.
I will have to visit the site more often when I know my wife might step in. Who knows what kind of things might happen?
@sefcug
Looser
By Chris Blanchard
“I can’t believe you’re lusting over a doll,” Richard said. “Looser.”
“It’s not a doll,” David said defensively. “It’s an action figure. Besides, I’m not lusting after it.”
“Dude,” Richard said, “You got drool AND fog on the window. You’re totally lusting. Who is that anyway? Wonder Woman? I heard she got a new costume.”
“Wonder Woman?” David asked in shock, pushing his glasses up on his face. “I will have you know that this is…”
“Black Canary,” said a woman’s voice, causing both boys to turn from the comic store window and look in the direction of the newcomer.
She was slightly taller than either of them were, had long, wavy red hair, pale skin and freckles all over. She also wore a pair of glasses, but hers were far more fashionable than David’s, being small and oval. She was beautiful.
“It’s a Black Canary figure,” she continued as the two boys picked up their jaws. “And on top of that, it’s a rare collectable. You, my friend, have good taste. Shall we go inside and get a better look?”
With that, she took David by the arm and led him into the comic store. David turned to look over his shoulder back at Richard and put his hand on his fore head, his fingers making an ‘L’ shape.
The End
@blanchardauthor
Adam sucked in a breath and held it. He could not believe what was laid out before him. Brown eyes traced the object of his desire, taking their sweet time caressing each curve, each thrilling detail. In his trousers something stirred to life.
“Not yet,” he cautioned himself.
Sprawled out across the table was by far the finest piece of work he’d ever experienced. In all probability it was the best thing he would encounter in his life. That said a lot considering he loved to collect beautiful things.
The silk of his boxers chafed. Adam growled in frustration and pushed his rolling chair back. He stood, adjusted himself, and went to grab the phone from his office.
Shaking fingers entered the number he’d only recently memorized. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest.
“Hello, Norma? Yes, this is Adam Spencer.” He paused, trying to savor the sound of her voice. “I’d love to represent your work. It is… inspiring.”
If only she knew just how he lusted over each and every word she’d created.
@RCMurphy
He had been surrounded by beauty for years. The gods themselves would salivate with jealousy upon seeing his harem: his dancers were the most lithe in the country; a woman with the hips of Venus herself brought him his drink; a porcelain princess spoke in soft words to a tall savannah delight. Any of them he could have, in a flash of fingers, a single command.
And yet his hand stayed on the arm rest, save to pick up his drink and sip it, brooding.
It was not until the ambassador came, stepping over barely clothed bodies in her dusty traveling boots, modest dress fluttering in each step yet never revealing more than a flash of leggings, did he stir. She held her head high, looked him in the eye as if she were a queen instead of some mere messenger between royalty. When she spoke, her voice was powerful and confident, so different from the meek whispers he was used to hearing.
“I can offer you a life of comfort,” he told her that night at dinner. “You will never want for food, money, for pleasure. Come, be my wife, and we can do away with all of this negotiation nonsense.”
She looked at him, a sly smile crossing her face, as if she knew how much he burned to see all of the things she had hidden from him.
“No.”
His eyes were drawn, irrevocably, to the bed. The long pale limbs twisted in the navy sheets made his mouth go suddenly dry. ‘This is ridiculous,’ Paul decided. ‘I don’t even like men.’
Still, like men or no, he had to admit there was something about the man on the bed that stirred a fire in him. Maybe not lust, but a deep longing to get to know him better, learn what he liked and what he hated, and, perhaps, watch those fascinating eyes darken with desire.
Okay, so it was lust. Paul could deal with that. After all, Mark was a good looking man. Besides, hadn’t he read just the other day that all men had homosexual leanings at one time or another . . . perhaps it was just his time.
His sleeping roommate suddenly shifted positions, tangled sheets dropping lower to reveal his taut abdomen. Paul licked his lips as he watched a drop of sweat trickle down those well-defined muscles. He tore his eyes away from the sight and moved to slip back out of the room when Mark began to mutter in his sleep.
His hand was on the knob, nearly out of the room and home free, when he heard the whisper of his name. Paul turned back, kneeling beside the bed as he dared to stroke the tempting skin of his deepest fantasy and wonder if, perhaps, just this once, he should give in to lust.
@SesshasWorld
She was endearingly prim, a small thing in a pencil skirt and sweet polka dot blouse. She blushed when the conversation took a salacious turn, and the men around her suddenly remembered that they had been gentlemen once, and steered it back to propriety. She bit her lip when she puzzling things out. She spoke with sparkling eyes and enthusiasm when she discussed the State Of The World and how Things Will Be Better and There Is Hope On The Horizon. She was kind and charming. After an hour in her presence, the dinner group went home and uncharacteristically hugged their children, kissed their spouses, and went to sleep dreaming of a brighter tomorrow. They could be better. They could work harder. They could use kindness as a gentle sword that would cut away bitterness and despair. They could change the world.
She went home, kicked off her shoes, and sighed. She poured herself a drink and stared out of her window at the woman working the corner.
“I could do that,” she thought. “I could be that.”
She studied the tight dress, the high shoes, the crack-thin body. And she wanted and wanted and wanted.
@mercedesmy
I arrived at Windroth Farm one blustery March Saturday, when the snowdrops still peeped from every dew-soaked shadow. I was there to help in the dairy, and carried one pail of milk from sheds to house every day, when the sun was still fresh. It was Tuesday before I noticed the worn initials on the gatepost, P.L. and E.H., enclosed by a narrow heart, squashed sideways to accomodate an iron fastening.
“Their ghosts still walk,” said Master Thomas, when he saw me looking. “You can see them in the long hall, when there’s moonlight. They never touch, never see each other. It’s a punishment, I think, for their lust. Like Dante. Two spirits doomed to be alone, because they could not bear to be in life.”
From that day, whenever I passed the gatepost, I whispered a tiny prayer.
@victorianhatbox
She felt the warmth of his words, as if he was whispering them directly in her ear, his voice rough with passion.
“That’s it. Just like that. Now take your glistening finger, and rub it over your nipple. Tell me how it feels as your honey dries.”
God, she was gasping. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t.
And yet she couldn’t breathe.
“My nipple is so hard,” she wrote. “God, I could squeeze it and come.”
“No, not yet,” came the reply. “I want to make this last. I want to savor you, to taste you deeply. Before I get you off.”
“Okay, but please, hurry!”
“Taste yourself… for me.”
She probed herself deeply, moaning, and licked her essence from his fingers.
“God, it’s so sweet. I taste so sweet.”
“Mmmmm… I so want to taste you, to make you come with mouth.”
“Oh, god… yes… my husband never does that to me… Never!”
She was grinding her fingers, bringing the pleasure closer, humping his face.
“I opening your lips to taste you… Oh, god… you taste so sweet…”
In the next room, she heard the clicking of keys.
This was working better than she could have hoped…
It wasn’t until the middle of their copy room sex that they remembered Bob – tired of copy paper and post-its going missing – had installed security cameras in the office the April before. Tammy wanted to finish – hell, they were sure to lose their jobs now anyway – but Frank, always a bit of a nervous fellow, became fixated on the electronic eye watching him from the ceiling, and he went soft.
They both reported from work the next morning, sure they’d be given their pink slips by lunchtime.
All Bob did, though, was give them a knowing look and a wink.
Tammy was surprised to find herself aroused by Bob’s approving eye, and became eager for Round Two later that night, but Frank hadn’t the slightest interest.
Tammy was not detoured.
Early the next morning, Bob was treated to grainy but bravura solo performance.
@Dennis_Frymire
flash397.com
“Don’t look now, girl, but he’s staring again.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Why on earth is Katie even looking at this loser watch me anyway? Made absolutely no sense. “Well, let him look. There’s no harm in that,” Candice decided to reply,
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. There is no harm in looking,” Katie giggled behind her flute of champagne. “Not sure why he’s watching you so entently, but he is. And he’s worth looking at.”
“Is he, now?” I deadpanned.
Katie finally pinned me with the most annoyed expression. “Don’t believe me? Look for yourself.”
“Didn’t you just tell me not to-”
Katie didn’t allow me to finish. She forced my body to look towards the adonis leaning against the wall. He sipped casually from his wine. Sure enough, he was looking our way.
From what I could see, his hair was deep brown curls, closely cropped to his head. He had the smoothest skin. It was skin I could imagine my hands on. Skin I could imagine against mine. Finally, he looked up again, piercing me with the most desirable gray eyes. In this light, they seemed to shimmer silver. And, wouldn’t he have the nerve to smile…the sexiest dimple would appear in his left cheek when he smiled. Oh that smile…
“Don’t drop your drink, girl,” Katie nudged my side.
I jumped out of the lusty thoughts clouding my head. How I wished he’d take me home. The things we could do to his bed. The ways we could wake up wrapped up in eachother…
“Oohh, girl! He’s walking over!” Katie whispered excitedly in my ear.
His stroll was casual, but at the same time, dangerous to my heart. Each step only made him appear that much more appealing. Each step made me forget simple things about myself: my name, my age, my hair color. Oh, but I never once forgot how much I loved being a woman. He made me remember just by looking.
Just when he was close enough to talk to, he stepped up to the person beside me. “Hello there,” his deep baritone voice flowed out. “Would you like to dance?”
Of all the rotten luck! is all I thought as he took the hands of the man who was standing next to me and headed out to the dance floor.
@shells2003
For me, it’s not the fear. It’s the lust. Crueler than the cruelest shoes. If you know what I mean.
Blank. Sitting in my car. Windows open. Lingering. My seat wet beneath me.
Sitting. Waiting.
The panic starts everytime I feel another one passing. Sometimes a heavy rumble. Sometimes a slow chug. The heavy rumble is better. I wait.
Waiting. Life’s just between the loading times. That’s how I think of it.
Waiting for the right one. Different shades tell different ways. The color is most important. Not everyone affords the shape, but the color is the way.
I can tell if they’ve just eaten. If they’re dying for a piss. If they want a good chase, they speak to me first.
Here she comes. First one. Today is a sweet grey Chevy and , boy, do her thighs look heavy. I’m a lusty lady, she says to me. That’s my cue. Lights on. Turn the key. Squeeze the pedal like a trigger. Mmm. I’m on your tail, grey lady. Lusty, lusty lady. Tickets make you ‘fraidy.
@dannymicrowave
Ha! Not nearly as many naughty posts as I was expecting. When this word came up in the random word generation, I knew it would be a hit. 🙂
Time’s up kids! The poll will be up by 3:00.
You guys rock my world. 🙂
Ooops… forgot to put in my twitter handle. @blanchardauthor.
You guys are awesome! Love it when I have a challenge, and you guys delivered.
Oops, I forgot my Twitter handle. @sefcug
*is a giant dork* I forgot my Twitter name too.
@RCMurphy
@victorianhatbox
*sigh* I forgot mine, too. Fun writing exercise, everybody! 🙂
@mercedesmy
I’ve updated the posts with everyone’s twitter handles. Just so you know. 🙂