Just one Line.

From the upcoming third chapter of my current story, 'A Dirty Business':

Anybody on the crowded dancefloor who chose to look in her direction, or follow her recent path to the bar, or simply traced the fixed, unmoving line of the redhead’s gaze, would surely see her obscene display, from the clean, dark, narrow line of her waxed landing strip down to the slightly protruding, moist petals of her labia.
 
Have you noticed how many men who go by Dick are so aptly named? It's like calling your Penis McCarthy, or Pick Jones, rather than simple using your real name, Richard!
Just wrote this in my currently active WIP...

There was a reason beyond his name being autological that Dick chose me to be the fall guy for his incompetence.
 
From a WIP for the song event:

Sometimes, refusing to look desirable is an even bigger rebellion than going out and fucking some same-sex stranger while off your tits.
 
From A Day in the Life: Penis Penisovich:

Yes, I am quite aware of the nickname often assigned to the Christian name 'Richard' in the English speaking world; I have been reminded of it countless times, and any humor attached to this little wordplay wore thin many years ago.
 
He regarded me with the eyes of one who has seen way too much sick shit, and was kept going only because he knew he was the dropper in the ocean removing the sick shit from the world.

Roy"s boss David, The Dark Kitchen
 
From the upcoming fourth chapter of my current story, 'A Dirty Business':

It had been quickly obvious to Anya that this girl shared a kinky side, what with her cute little nipple piercing and clear willingness to submit to each command; with her rear passage now happily accommodating a plug that was well over six centimetres in diameter, and twice as long, she had shown impressive... personal growth.
 
I’m working on a slow burn story, in semi-random order, and the chapter where things start to shift from being platonic starts with:

There is something wrong with the sky.

(If you didn’t grow up with tornadoes or tropical storms, skies you call “wrong” mean “oh shit” or “ohshitohshitohshit”.)

I think I prefer Mother Nature providing dramatic tension over characters doing stupid shit that scrambles the plans of four different characters at once. And boy can she scramble plans. And in this case it fits better with the other plot devices of the story anyway.
 
Whenever Brenda was out in the driveway, rinsing off her Camaro, the candy-apple red one—although Chevrolet called it 'Wild Cherry' it was really candy-apple—the one that Jamie had gotten her as a wedding present, in her white halter top and cutoff jeans, folks would stop by just to chat, even when Jamie knew they had already talked earlier that day, at the Sunrise Inn for breakfast.
 
Back
Top