Saturday, January 28, 2006 - Jack's Challenge - Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight.Posted by Deb |
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Here
is a challenge for the writers of the forum. I will give you a song
title and you have to take the emotion you get from the song and turn
it into a writing prompt.
The song in question is, Phil Collins - In the Air Tonight.
She sat in his lap, astride his thighs and took a breath.
He was sitting there with his eyes shut, his pants undone, his dick hard, waiting for her to make her next move.
Slowing she started rocking to the music and he held his breath in
anticipation. He'd been in a relationship with her for quite a while
but even now, the way she did things suprpised him and he was glad that
their relationship was still at the stage where it was fresh and
unique.
Phil sang in the background while she ground against
his cock. Her lips parted, breath panting, eyes heavy. Rocking against
him, her muscles clenching and releasing him with every movement she
made.
Well I remember...
a pause, he held his breath. Remembering the last time they did this.
The feelings he felt as she held him for one brief moment before she
ground into him again.
Releasing his breath as she started
rocking on him again, he held her hips, moving her back as she rocked
hard, helping her as she pushed towards her own orgasm, trying to hold
his in until she was done. Failing...
Enjoying the play of
her muscles against his dick as she rocked herself closer and closer to
orgasm. Trying to wait for him but failing. Crying out in release as
she came.
Crying out again as he joined her.
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Friday, January 27, 2006 - Week 23 - Bargain HunterPosted by Deb |
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Someone
becomes stranded in a furniture warehouse for the night. Was it an
accident or planned? What do they do to occupy themselves?
Doris
woke up and looked about her in confusion. The coffin like structure
that she found herself in filled her with mild panic until she
remembered two very important things. The first being that she was
vertical and, therefore, not buried underground; the second point being
she had put herself in there.
Slowly and carefully opening
the cupboard door, Doris peeked through the crack to make sure there
was nobody around. When she saw that it was dark and quiet, she stepped
out onto the cool tiled floor where strange, bulky shapes loomed out at
her from darkness and it wasn't until her eyes became accustomed to the
dark that she could make out what the shapes were.
Once
Doris was convinced that she was the only one in the room, she withdrew
a flashlight from her black knapsack and, hooding the light with her
hand, she turned it on.
Looking about her, she found all
manner of beds, couches, dining tables and other bric-a-brac associated
with furnishing a person's home. Smiling, she made her way through the
various sections, dictating notes into a small tape recorder as she
worked methodically from the left to the right of the store.
Two
hours later, she had all the information she required and with a sense
of accomplishment, made her way back to the cupboard that was
positioned in the centre of the store.
Bringing out a
cellphone, she dialled in numbers; familiar even in the dark and waited
till the person on the other end picked up.
"Sybil? I've got
it! Now listen very carefully to the detailed instructions and write
them down. Go directly to the service desk, give all the product
numbers to the assistant and we'll get all the best bargains while
everyone else is still scurrying about."
With that, Doris
turned on the tape and smiled in the dark as her own voice filled the
cupboard instructing Sybil on prices and product numbers.
She'd spend the rest of the night cramped into an uncomfortable
cupboard and she wouldn't be able to leave till the shop doors
openedand, more than likely, the sales staff would be surprised at the
speed in which Sybil picked her purchases, but at least they'd save a
fortune and get the best buys before everyone else.
Professional sales shopping had just been stepped up a notch.
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Sunday, January 22, 2006 - Week 22 - TerminalPosted by Deb |
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While
waiting for your baggage at an airport, you notice a young woman at the
baggage carousel. Although it's daytime, she's wearing a black
strapless evening gown, high-heeled shoes and coordinated jewelry. She
collects a box wrapped in brown paper. What's in the box? Who's she
meeting? Why is she dressed to the nines at the airport?
Post
by end of day on the 20th for 10 credits. It does help me in posting it
on the BA Prompts blog if you title your piece, but you aren't
obligated to. Just realize that I name it if you don't and my names
suck. 
If more than 10 people post, I am still going to draw for a prize, so get those stories in for a chance to win.
She
stood next to me at the baggage carousel, looking almost festive in her
evening gown and heels, except for the fact that she looked miserable.
Spying
a plainly wrapped parcel, she darted forward and grabbed it, hugging
the parcel to her chest before ripping it open where she stood.
I
couldn't help but look; the contents revealing a soft plaid shirt,
jeans and socks. Well worn sneakers were also included, wrapped up in a
plastic bag to protect the other items.
The girl buried her
head in the package and as I heard her sniffle a little bit, I spied an
older woman walking with purpose toward us. She looked a lot like the
girl, so I was not surprised when she scooped the young woman up into a
hug.
"That bastard," said the older woman as the girl sobbed
into her shoulder. "I know you only wanted the parcel, but I thought
you might like your mother, too."
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Thursday, January 12, 2006 - Week 21 - The ClosetPosted by Deb |
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Writing user group and any others that interest you.
While
unpacking at your new apartment, you find a box left behind in the
corner of the closet. Whats in it? What do the items tell you about the
previous resident?
Go for it - 10 credits for posting a story before end of day on the 13th.
Paul and Georgia moved into their new apartment with seemingly little fuss.
They'd scrimped and saved for a few years in order to move to a better
neighbourhood and momentarily Paul felt a pang of guilt over the lies
that he had told his ex wife in order to get where he was now, but he
quickly shrugged it off. He was where he wanted to be and now that he
had his new family, he could afford to forget about the old.
Tired
of unpacking boxes, Paul decided to go and see where their baby was.
She was crawling now and getting into all kinds of mischief and while
he wasn't worried about her - it was hard to break what wasn't
unpacked, he was feeling lazy and she was the perfect excuse.
He searched all the rooms and couldn't find her. Frowning, he called out to his wife.
"Georgia, where's Emma?"
"She
was in the master bedroom when I last saw her. Just go look again,"
yelled Georgia from the kitchen. "Oh hey, do you want to order
something for dinner? Maybe pizza, I can't be fussed with cooking
tonight."
"Yeah sure, hang on," Paul said back.
On
his way through to the master bedroom, he picked up the cordless phone
and dialled in the national number for a popular pizza chain and made
their order, still scouting for Emma.
As he hung up the
phone, he swung open the doors of the walk in closet and saw his
daughter sitting on the floor, half in a box.
"What ya got there bub?" he asked as he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder like a fireman.
She screamed and clapped her hands, a line of drool connecting them from her mouth to the waistline of his jeans.
He
brought the box out of the closet and sat down in front of it. Placing
Emma in his lap, he started to empty the box of its contents.
"What do you have there?" asked Georgia, bringing in the boxes of pizza.
"Jesus that was fast!" he said in an amazed voice and Georgia looked at him oddly.
"Darling, it was 20 minutes. Hardly fast..."
It
was then that Paul realised that Emma was no longer in his lap but
sitting as far away as possible from him on the other side of the room.
Emma looked at him oddly as Paul walked over and picked her
up before taking her to the kitchen and putting her in her highchair so
she could eat.
"Emma found a box in the cupboard," Paul said as he bit into a slice of cheesey heaven.
"What was in it?"
"I can't remember..."
Georgia
snorted and poked Paul in the chest. "Lay off the crack pipe buddy,"
she said giggling. "We'll go look in a minute. After we've eaten."
They
finished the pizza and as Georgia wiped pizza grease from her fingers
to her jeans, she looked at Paul and said, "in the bedroom?" and he
nodded.
Emma cried out and Georgia went back for her and
then rejoined Paul in the hallway, placing Emma on the floor once they
were in the bedroom.
"Emma found it in the closet," Paul said, walking towards it and opening the door. "There it is!"
He reached down to pick up the box and couldn't lift it.
"Jesus, this is heavy!"
"Oh you man, you," Georgia said, laughing as she joined him in the walk in closet. "How did you get it out before?"
As Georgia bent down to help Paul drag the box out, the doors to the closet slammed shut and there was an instant of silence.
"Open the door...," said Paul.
Emma crept closer to the doors, stopping six feet away and resting on her knees.
She stared, and waited.
When the screaming started, apart from a small initial flinch, there was no other reaction.
Even
though Emma was a closet monster, she never quite got used to the
ferocity of the screams of the victims when her cousins fed.
Sighing, she stood up, took off her diaper; she hated the damn things anyway, and walked to the front door and opened it.
Time to die so she could come back and do this all over again for the next time her 'real' family became hungry.
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Tuesday, January 3, 2006 - Week 20 - The New YearPosted by Deb |
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register (it's free) and click on User Groups in the options running
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Writing user group and any others that interest you.
Write a story celebrating the New Year.
You get 10 credits for posting your story before the new prompt goes up on Jan 7th.
It's hard to feel celebratory when the person you want most to spend it with can't be there with you.
Birthdays and Christmas are spent apart, where the only closeness you
have is throwing on the cam and voice so that he can hear the squeals
of excitement and watch the ripping open of presents coupled with yells
of "thank you", but it's not the same as getting the full force of a
child hurtling toward you in excitement because you were responsible
for them receiving the latest Bratz doll or the Magna-Doodle they
always play with when you go shopping, and it's not the same as being
covered in kid spit as they smoosh kisses all over you because they got
a plush horsey toy.
It's not the same to watch on cam, as it
is to watch the slow smile from the stoic one as she unwraps clothes
she knows is going to make her friends jealous.
New Years is
just as hard. I still haven't received my first kiss for the year
because the only person I want it from is on the other side of the
world. Once again, we can go into voice and sit on cam and sure we
enjoy ourselves. We're at least together and spending the time together
and I get to say Happy New Year, but, depending on geography and
weather, it's not the same as sitting in front of the television
watching the ball drop while you're rugged up and snuggling on the
couch. It's not the same as standing outside on your front lawn
watching the people up the street set off fireworks. It's just not the
same.
I'm glad that I feel this way during times of
celebration. Even though it's not the same, it's still something and I
am happy with what I have, knowing it will get better.
I
hope that these times, when I feel most lonely, will always remind me
of what I should be grateful for when I no longer have to endure the
times when I should be with loved ones, alone.
Times like
these will always remind me that there are worse things than petty
fights and angry silences. There are worse things than harsh words.
Not being able to hold, and be with the one you love when everyone else can is the worst thing.
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Sunday, December 18, 2005 - Week 19 - Happy HolidaysPosted by Deb |
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Writing user group and any others that interest you.
Write a story for the holidays. Use the words Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, snowman, and tree.
Have at 'er.
The three drunk, homeless men sat around the roaring fire underneath
the bridge. Each rubbed his hands vigorously to further disperse the
heat as puffs of frigid smoke burst forth from chattering teeth and
blue lips.
"okay.... so let me get this straight. From the
beginning of December to the middle of December, we're all Jewish. We
go around hollerin' Happy Hannukah and we do Brachot? Don't care about
Brachot but then Sol, you go up to Rabbi's, plead poverty and they give
you latkes and stuff to make you leave and then we can bust in on some
Dreidel games and use that stuff to put in the pot and if we spin right
we can scoop the kitty," said Frank, the first drunk man.
"That's
right," said the second man, Solomon. "From 9 till 17 December we scoop
up big on Hannukah and if we ration all the takings for that period out
and supplement our income by stealing from some street corner Santa's
who are in it for the holiday season, we should be able to eke it all
out and have ourselves a Merry little Christmas."
All three laughed and stood staring into the fire. Bubba, the third man
got up and walked towards a snowman that had been created by children
during the daytime when it was reasonably safe to venture out towards
the lake. With a sigh of relief he urinated right next to the snowman
before falling against a tree and splashing the snowman with steaming
urine.
"Hey look!" he cried. "A yellow snowman!"
The
other two guffawed and slapped each other across the back as the
snowman's face slightly melted in the onslaught of Bubba's rancid piss.
Zipping himself up, Bubba joined the group again.
"Right.
So then on Christmas day we hit some missions, eat their food, grab
ourselves some gifts and we spend a night on beds, for a change and
wake up to a hot breakfast and lo and behold, it's fucking Kwanzaa.
I'll go into my schtick and scoop up big on New Year's Eve and I'll
come back and divide the goods up. I'll be back in time for us to hit
the city and go kissing the women for midnight. Heh heh heh," he leered
at Frank and Sol.
"We'll be set till the middle of January!"
they all crowed and laughed till others from surrounding barrels of
fire looked in their direction.
"What are you lookin' at?" slurred Frank.
"Hey! Happy fucken holidays!" shouted Sol and they all laughed again.
They called themselves the Three Wise Men.
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Sunday, December 18, 2005 - Week 18 - Hospitals Won't Help Dying Man.Posted by Deb |
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Writing user group and any others that interest you.
Write a story based on a newspaper headline that reads, "Hospitals Won't Help Dying Man."
The middle aged man staggered up to the desk at the front of the nurse's office.
"Help me, please," he croaked. "I think I'm having a heart attack."
"I see," said the nurse. "First of all we need to fill out this paperwork in order to admit you. Do you smoke?"
"Yes," said the man. "About m..."
"tsk tsk. Smoking is very
irresponsible. We don't cover smokers anymore you know. You're draining
the health system's resources and it's getting too much for us to cater
to the foolishness of people who willingly put cancer into their mouths
why only last week a man came in with emphysema and"
"Lady, can I see a fucking doctor?"
"Oh... like that is it, righto. Do you have insurance?"
"Yes. I have insurance."
"Oh
good! Could I have your name, address, social security number, name and
telephone number of nearest relative living near you but not with you,
your insurance policy number and... sir? Sir??
Oh dear..."
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Sunday, December 18, 2005 - Week 17 - Surprise!Posted by Deb |
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Writing user group and any others that interest you.
Two
cross-country skiers come across an isolated cabin. The front door is
open, a hot meal is on the table and a car is in the driveway, but no
one appears to be home.
What now?
Two cross-country skiers came across an isolated cabin. The front door
stood open, and through snow-numbed noses they could smell what could
only be a hot meal emanating from the cabin.
Looking around
they spied a car in in the driveway, but other than the car and the hot
meal, there were no other signs of life.
"God I'm starving
and it smells delicious. What do you think we should do?" asked the
first skier, pulling off the iced up balaclava to reveal a beautiful
woman with copper coloured curls and porcelain skin, almost as white as
the very snow she skied on.
"I don't know..." replied the
man with her. He'd only met her last night and for the last 24 hours
his life had been a whirlwind adventure with this vivacious woman who
seemed to live for risk taking.
"Oh come on!" she laughed, smacking him across his arm lightly with a woollen glove. "Let's at least see what's up."
She
skied closer to the house and upon reaching the front entrance she bent
down and unsnapped the ski's from her boots. The man watched her as she
finished removing the skis and it took him a few moments to realise she
was looking back at him over her shoulder.
"You gonna stand
there and stare at my ass and freeze all afternoon or you going to come
in here with me. I'll bet there's a bed..."
She laughed and stepped into the house.
Sighing with good natured humour, the man slowly made his way up towards the front door and started to remove his own skis.
"You coming? You should see this place!" she yelled from inside.
"Yeah I'm coming. Hang on a second," he yelled back as he stamped excess snow off his boots before entering the house.
He barely had time to acknowledge the silver shape flying towards him as he stepped further into the cabin.
The axe whistling through the air found its resting place after ripping
into his stomach and hitting his spine and so fast was the blow that
his brain didn't even register it was dying for 2 or 3 seconds.
The
last thing he heard was bone crunching as the axe severed his spine,
and the last thing he saw as he died were the heads and upper torso's
of about a dozen men all mounted on the wall and the beautiful woman
smiling, covered in his blood.
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