100 word story. Exactly. No More. No less.

[visioneer]

Here's a microfiction I posted some time ago in a different thread. Comments welcome.

Inflection Point

Kate mouths piss-cheap bourbon and thumbs the lipstick smudging the dingy glass. It’s not her color. She stares down the bartender’s oily smirk and swallows.

That’s the cue. Chairs scrape against tile. Bodies corral Kate to the bar — honest muscles, shameless eyes, scents like lathered rawhide.

“I get her pussy first.”

“Ain’t her pussy I want.”

“Fuck that.” A tempered hand saddles Kate’s thigh. “She’s got three holes. We can all go first.”

Kate fills her mouth with piss-cheap bourbon and feels nylon yield to naked flesh. She thumbs the lipstick smudge and swallows. Maybe it’s her color after all.

 

[Winter_Fare]

Here's a microfiction I posted some time ago in a different thread. Comments welcome.

This is really tight and polished. Did it benefit from being left alone for a good while in terms of editing?

 

[MargotPayge]

Here is a second try. I am still trying to nail down how to do things in the dialogue structure. If I understand you right, spacing it out on separate lines, which I intended to indicate pauses while Sarah spoke and Margot couldn't hear, instead came off as a change in speakers. So here is my second attempt. Clearer? Better? Same? (She gulps) Worse?

Anniversary Dinner

“Let’s eat, Margot.”
“Not until you call them and apologize.” I am livid.
It’s our yearly Anniversary fight.
He dials. I only hear his side.
“Yeah, It’s Crispin…. No.... Sarah,… Tell Trevor, I’m sorry-”
Extended pause.
“Come over, we’ll make it up to you.”
They arrive with a bottle of wine.
Netflix and chill.
Both couples are soon kissing.
Friends touching friends.
Clothing accumulates on the oaken floor.
Tongues.
Mouths.
Hands roam.
Crispin’s on Sarah’s bum.
Trevor’s on my tits.
My pussy: wet, leaking, fragrant.
Crispin, raising his head, says, “I have an idea.”
Silence.
Curiosity.
“Let’s eat Margot.”

 

[MargotPayge]

I've been working on this one for a while as well.
When we decide to live life with no regrets, we end up in strange places. Comments still welcome.

Wrinkles

He moves over me.
My legs open, my hands wrinkling his scalp, pulling him to me.
His sweat beads on his forehead and drips into my eyes.
It burns.
Instead of protests, groans as he enters my wrinkly pussy.
“You see, baby?” He says. “I’m the same as any other lover.”
That isn’t true.
I wrinkle my brow.
He’s sixty-five, forty-four years my senior.
Old as my grandpa. That’s the wrinkle.
It’s dirty.
Maybe that’s why I’m fucking him.
No future.
Just sex.
This won’t happen again. Ever.
But, God! His wrinkled hands know their way around a woman’s body.

 

[visioneer]

This is really tight and polished. Did it benefit from being left alone for a good while in terms of editing?

Not in the sense of deliberately setting it aside, stepping away, and then returning to it. I compulsively edit/rewrite/edit/etc. on the fly, which means I'll grind away at a piece until I get what I want. This in itself is very time consuming, hence my low story output. (I have been accused of being a perfectionist.)

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

I've been wanting to try this for a while. Did I succeed? Comments welcome.

Anniversary Dinner

“Let’s eat, Margot.”
“Not until you call them,” Odium in my voice.
Our traditional anniversary fight.
“They are our friends.”
He dialed.
“Yeah, It’s Crispin.”
“No. Sarah, we’re…”
“Tell Trevor I’m sorry. Come over, we’ll make it up to you.”
They arrived with a bottle of wine.
Netflix and chill.
Both couples were soon kissing.
Clothing accumulated on the oaken floor.
Tongues. Mouths. Friends touching friends. Hands roamed.
Crispin’s on Sarah’s bum. Trevor’s on my tits. My pussy: wet and dripping.
Crispin lifted his head up and said, “I have an idea.”
We listened in rapt attention.
“Let’s eat Margot.”

I love the final line. But I felt in the lead-up you were trying to cover too much ground too quickly. Maybe, the first "let's eat" could be delivered when the two couples are already together. Then you could luxuriate a bit on the details of the foreplay.

 

[MargotPayge]

I love the final line. But I felt in the lead-up you were trying to cover too much ground too quickly. Maybe, the first "let's eat" could be delivered when the two couples are already together. Then you could luxuriate a bit on the details of the foreplay.

I'd be interested to know if you think my second version is more successful.
So far, I have been unable to have 2 plot lines or clearly depict two events. In this case it was the end of the argument that led to the phone call that led to the sex. Maybe it's just too much to cover in 100 words. If that's true or even mostly true, that is an important lesson for me. Narrower, but deeper. I may just try again.
I really want this one. I conceived it specifically for this format.

 

[MargotPayge]

My 3rd try. Thanks for the comments. They are still welcome. I think it's getting better.

Anniversary Dinner.

“Let’s eat, Margot,”
Said Crispin, as Sarah and Trevor arrived with a bottle of wine.
The lights low,
The music soft,
Dinner impeccable,
Our little anniversary soiree blossoming,
We adjourn to the sitting room;
Four of us are sprawled on the settee.
Ignoring the telly,
My hand languidly strokes Crispin’s neck,
Sarah’s head on Trevor’s shoulder.
Both couples are soon kissing.
Mouths.
Tongues.
Friends touching friends.
Hands roam.
Crispin’s on Sarah’s bum.
Trevor’s on my tits.
Clothing accumulates on the floor.
My pussy: wet, leaking, fragrant.
Delicious.
Crispin, recognizing my arousal, says, “Here’s an idea.”
Silence.
Curiosity.
“Let’s eat Margot.”

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

It’s Not Cheating If You Don’t Lie About It

That’s what he told me when we were first together. Back when we were both young and stupid and horny. So I forgave him when he slept with my best friend Sarah. I forgave him because he came clean and told me about it.

I lean across the dinner table and look him straight in the eye. “I fucked Mike today while you were at work. Took him bareback right in our bed. In fact, my pussy is still full of his cum.”

Next time, Mike and I let him watch.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

CMNF

I greet him at the door wearing nothing at all. His crisp business suit makes my nakedness more profound. Wordlessly he runs his strong hands over my body—my tits, my flanks, my ass, even between my legs—appraising me, claiming me.

Normally we’re colleagues, equals. But not today. Today I’m his whore. He lifts his fingers to my nose, teasing me with the fragrance of my wet pussy. It’s a heady, musky, earthy aroma—the scent of a woman in heat.

Later, I know he will fuck me, but for now it’s enough to come riding his hand.

 

[visioneer]

My 3rd try. Thanks for the comments. They are still welcome. I think it's getting better.

Anniversary Dinner.

“Let’s eat, Margot,”
Said Crispin, as Sarah and Trevor arrived with a bottle of wine.
The lights low,
The music soft,
Dinner impeccable,
Our little anniversary soiree blossoming,
We adjourn to the sitting room;
Four of us are sprawled on the settee.
Ignoring the telly,
My hand languidly strokes Crispin’s neck,
Sarah’s head on Trevor’s shoulder.
Both couples are soon kissing.
Mouths.
Tongues.
Friends touching friends.
Hands roam.
Crispin’s on Sarah’s bum.
Trevor’s on my tits.
Clothing accumulates on the floor.
My pussy: wet, leaking, fragrant.
Delicious.
Crispin, recognizing my arousal, says, “Here’s an idea.”
Silence.
Curiosity.
“Let’s eat Margot.”

It is improving, and I very much like the premise and setup. I agree with BrightShinyGirl that you are telling us too much, which is hard not to do. You might try thinking of the story as acts of a little play and combine/reduce the action accordingly to smooth things out.
1. Dinner
2. Sitting room and petting
3. Crispin's display of Margot's arousal

I'll stop here before the editor in me kicks into overdrive.

 

[MargotPayge]

Comments Welcome.

College Friends

Submitting the longest piece I’ve ever written has reminded me of a friend from college.
At 19, She was a few months younger than me. She was writing an Amish romance novel. At some point they had been popular and she loved them. Me– not so much. There aren’t a lot of hot sex scenes in Amish romance novels. Hot sex scenes had already been my thing for quite a while.
When she finished her romance novel, almost 100,000 words, I was so impressed. I wanted her.
She threw the whole thing away after we licked each other’s pussy.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Comments Welcome.

College Friends

Submitting the longest piece I’ve ever written has reminded me of a friend from college.
At 19, She was a few months younger than me. She was writing an Amish romance novel. At some point they had been popular and she loved them. Me– not so much. There aren’t a lot of hot sex scenes in Amish romance novels. Hot sex scenes had already been my thing for quite a while.
When she finished her romance novel, almost 100,000 words, I was so impressed. I wanted her.
She threw the whole thing away after we licked each other’s pussy.

I love how mundane the friendship is at first—how believable. The set-up really gives the final sentence its erotic punch. I’ve had girl crushes like that, but never consummated them.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Taken

We’re fucking on the living room floor.

The grocery bags are sitting by the front door where we dropped them. I don’t care. Right now all I care about is his thick cock in my sopping pussy, sliding in and out, working me.

“Hold me down,” I gasp.

“You mean like this?”

He grabs my wrists and stretches my arms high over my head, pinning them tight. I struggle against his grip but he’s much stronger than me.

“Oh God … yes, just like that.”

“You really like feeling helpless, don’t you?”

I nod. I do.

Helpless.

Overpowered.

Taken.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Therapeutic

“Emily, have you ever considered simply giving in to these urges.”

I’m perched on the leather couch in Dr. Bannerjee’s Beverly Hills office. She’s sitting across from me in her high-backed armchair, tapping her pencil idly on her notepad. She cocks her head to one side and raises one sculpted eyebrow, waiting for me to respond.

“You mean masturbate in public!? I could never … it’s impossible! I’m here because I want to put a stop to these fantasies, not act on them!”

“Everything you do within this office is completely confidential,” she smiles.

She watches everything I do.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

In His Office

“Very nice, he says. “Is that a new suit?”

“Yes.”

“Armani?”

“Brooks Brothers.”

“It’s a good look,” he says. “Now, take off your panties and put them on my desk.”

I hesitate. Our encounters don’t usually progress so quickly. This is an escalation.

He frowns. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

I give my head a quick shake. “No … I heard you.”

After I comply, he rests his hand on the inside of my bare leg and slides it up under my skirt.

“Your pussy is very wet,” he observes.

“I want your cock … sir.”

 

[Biggalute]

A bit of fun and a question for you all at the end, answers on a postcard to …..



THE DICK

“Why are you always touching your dick, scratching it, moving it?”

“It’s all evolution's fault. My arms are the perfect length for playing with my junk.”

“I don’t remember that bit in Darwin’s book.”

“It was in the first draft but because of Victorian morals it was decided to leave it out.”

“Umm. But really, why are men always at their dicks. Even walking down the street you see them scratching or flicking, it’s so uncouth.”

“You’re right, we are. Do you think it’s a new phenomenon? Did men in previous generations do it?”

“I don’t think so. Do You?”

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Good Boy

He kneels in front of me with his hands clasped behind his head—naked, scruffy, shockingly erect. His slender cock has a pronounced upward curve and bobs slightly with every beat of his heart, but otherwise he’s holding perfectly still.

I lightly brush the pointy tip of one Ferragamo heel against his balls in their smooth sack, appraising their heft and size. In response, the shiny purple head of his cock produces a fresh pulse of pre-cum. There’s already a long strand of it hanging from the tip, and a little puddle on the floor.

“Please,” begs.

“Not yet.”

 

[Winter_Fare]

Pink Moon.

I'm listening to a dead man sing and play acoustic guitar. Picking steel strings, making words into something like God touching me with His own hands.

There's nothing I can say, there isn't air enough to spare now - you have to hear it for yourself!

See the beautiful broken boy breaks me every time, throws my faith like eggshells around the flowers that he planted in my mind. Sweet night blooms open to follow the pink moon.

He died too young. Never untroubled. But I get chills sitting so still listening to a dead man sing and play acoustic guitar.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Witchcraft

Sarah and I go skinny-dipping while the boys build the bonfire. In a few minutes the flames are roaring—twisting and leaping from the carefully stacked woodpile.

When the time is ripe, we rise from the lake like a pair of goddesses and stride dripping up the shore toward the flames. Water streams from our naked bodies.

We dance for them under the full moon, shaking our tits, thrusting our hips forward in a pantomime of fucking. It’s an ancient spell we’re casting—old wisdom, deep cunt-magic.

Then, spreading our legs in the firelight, we accept their eager seed.

 

[Dak2]

Glansing Blow


More often than I deserve, she surprises me: her hand on my chest saying "stop," kneeling quickly, her remaining hand deftly exposes my cock.

She pauses to harden me and watch: plum red and pulsing.

A kiss, flat-tongue licks, a breathy sigh over the tip; then engulfed; tounge flicks on the underside so intense my knees shake. She observes and adjusts my tension. I'm making sounds she'll tease me about. Her hands grasp my hips. Her lips work the head. I urgently, breathtakingly cum.

I struggle to stand. Which one of us is really on their knees?

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Internship

I’m old enough to be her mother. Am I seducing her, or is she seducing me?

She’s so bright-eyed and dewy, so eager to please. We do it on my desk, our work clothes strewn around us.

She’s hairier than I expect—tufts under each arm, her crotch a warm nest. Kids these days!

She calls me mommy as I bend to lick her fragrant pussy. At her prompting, I cup one breast and tease her clit with my erect nipple. She calls this “dovefucking”—a word I’ve never heard before—but still I make her cum like that.

 

[BrightShinyGirl]

Hitachi

He makes me cum five times in a row with my vibrator, pressing the rounded head directly against my my throbbing clit. I strain against my bonds, my naked body describing a desperate arc atop the sweaty sheets.

The sixth time, I beg to be allowed to have his cock in my mouth as I cum.

Mercifully he grants my wish. Such a generous master.

The taste is intoxicating, so quintessentially male—a deep musk with a salty undercurrent of precum.

I moan my final orgasm around his erection, then he finishes by shooting his load on my face.

 

[MargotPayge]

Lit just published my first sonnet, and seeing it was so close to 100 words, I made a few adjustments and now I wish I had tried this earlier. I like this even better than the published version. It's funny how giving yourself such arbitrary rules can spark creativity. It's also funny that even after I put my work out there, I always want to change it. Does everyone feel like that? Comments welcome.

Swallowing

My lips and tongue caress the tender crown
Of his manhood, like a true wanton girl.
Desp’rately, he coerces my nightgown
Open, and finds my dewy, hidden pearl,
Which he delicately strokes. The pause is
Exquisite. Still, I continue my task
With pleasure, as my thirsty tongue causes
Thick liqueur to flow from his carnal flask.
The warm, salty sip of love’s full measure
Gushes down my throat. Thus, the naughty thrill
Of triumph, and the taste of his pleasure,
Reward my greedy tongue's prodigious skill.

This amorous nectar, this heady bliss,​

Is wine more potent than the sweetest kiss.​

 

[visioneer]

Lit just published my first sonnet, and seeing it was so close to 100 words, I made a few adjustments and now I wish I had tried this earlier. I like this even better than the published version. It's funny how giving yourself such arbitrary rules can spark creativity. It's also funny that even after I put my work out there, I always want to change it. Does everyone feel like that? Comments welcome.

Swallowing

My lips and tongue caress the tender crown
Of his manhood, like a true wanton girl.
Desp’rately, he coerces my nightgown
Open, and finds my dewy, hidden pearl,
Which he delicately strokes. The pause is
Exquisite. Still, I continue my task
With pleasure, as my thirsty tongue causes
Thick liqueur to flow from his carnal flask.
The warm, salty sip of love’s full measure
Gushes down my throat. Thus, the naughty thrill
Of triumph, and the taste of his pleasure,
Reward my greedy tongue's prodigious skill.

This amorous nectar, this heady bliss,​

Is wine more potent than the sweetest kiss.​

Confining oneself to a particular form, like the English sonnet, hones wordsmithing skills. I wrote one of these a few years ago (interestingly enough on a similar theme as yours). Thanks for sharing this.

Every piece I have published on Literotica -- when I reread it I almost always find something I want to change.