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The Best of 2013

Sixty-Seven
by Big Ed Magusson

Newbies and the Rules
by Daddy X

Playing With Dolls
by Daddy X

Regular Places
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The Dumb Ass
by Daily Hollow

A Good Settlement
by Ian D Smith

Flayed
by M. Micheal Rakes

Breathless
by Penelope Lake

It's Too Hot for Yard Work
by Penelope Lake

Ship Breakers
by R.E. Buckley

Such Things as Soldiers...
by R.E. Buckley

Time Capsule
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The Shampoo Girl
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Tartine
by Valentine Bonnaire

Happiness was his warm gun
by Valentine Bonnaire

Year of the Snake
by Valentine Bonnaire



Archives

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Aftermath, 70's Style
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By R.E. Buckley
Flasher Feast
It's Just a Dream


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The Reason for the Season
Stalkings


By Steve Isaak
Flasher Feast
Jailhouse Sleepover

Flashers by R.E. Buckley

 

erotic flash fictionVampire Pranks 3
© 2008

It was Marcia's idea to volunteer at the blood drive; she figured we could sneak out with a case, or at least a six-pack.

She even picked up a pair of cute sexy nurse costumes for us. The supervisor kinda made a face, but they weren't turning away volunteers. Turns out, all the guys wanted us to take their blood. Couldn't blame them; we were all bouncy boobs and bare belly buttons.

Still, it was kinda trying; I mean, you get thirsty, you know? With all that luscious red stuff flowing by like a soda fountain. And wouldn't you know it? Security was a bitch. No way were we gonna be able to filch even a single pouch.

But one of our donors invited us to meet him later in the parking lot. A dumb hunky jerk; big pick-up, average dick. He was already short a pint, but we figured he had lots more.

Marcia gave him the blow job of his life - literally.

"Do you swallow, bitch?" he says.

I said, "She always swallows. Then I gave him a permanent hickey. What an asshole, but delicious."

Later, Marcia and I shared a roach and caught a midnight movie.

erotic flash fictionLast Ride
© 2008

The trolley was crammed, close and sticky. But she shone with her own light among the rush-hour passengers. For eight weeks she'd made his necessary excursion bearable.

So lovely, wheat-colored hair draped over round, pale shoulders. A summer dress, so light and airy. When she sat, it revealed her pale perfect thigh; although, he thought he detected a smattering of freckles. Ethereal, the girl should be painted by a master portraitist, he thought, and smiled to himself. If only he were young.

He grew protective of her in his thoughts as the weeks passed. If anyone dared bother her he would rise and thrash them with his cane, and no doubt die in the effort. But it would be a good way for an old man to die, he thought.

Lost in his idyll he did not notice the policeman until he took his arm and lifted him from his seat.

A complaint had been made. Was he stalking her? Was he a registered offender?

His cheeks burned with shame as he stood some distance from her, her eyes fierce, accusing, as she spoke to another officer.

They let him go with a warning; he never rode that trolley again.

The Stonecutter's TributeThe Stonecutter's Tribute
© 2007

He ran his palm over the gentle slopes he knew so well, the polished granite as smooth as her skin, yet never as yielding. Cold to the touch, indifferently cold. He could recreate her shapes, nuances in those shapes, but not her heat.

It was an inadequate tribute, as inadequate as the town's response to her passing. They had been glad to accept her financial gifts: The library, the hospital, the addition to the school. So long as she made them anonymously.

The girls who worked for her, castoff children of a God-fearing community, she housed and educated, cared for them when they were sick, and helped set them up in life when they decided it was time to leave her employ.

In time perhaps they'd acknowledge her goodness, but for the nonce, his lone monument would have to suffice. He cupped has hands over the perfect globes he'd cherished, his fingers stroked her puffy sex. Then he stood back to assess his work.

It looked like she was lifting her derriere right out of the grave.

He grinned at the epitaph:

Now you can all kiss my ass.

flash fictionNile Be Seeing You
© 2005

The naked concubine wept kohl-streaked tears upon the sarcophagus. This was no honor—it was a nightmare. Soon the tiny lamps would flicker out and the darkness would devour her.

How long could she live in this stone womb? Food left for pharaoh's journey would rot soon; she would rot slowly. Best to find a weapon while there was still light and end her ordeal.

The torch fell out of the blackness above, then ropes, and then men, who efficiently set about looting the tomb. Their leader caressed her breast; she smiled.

"Whacha got there, boss?"

"Hmm, real treasure."

flash fictionWeird County: She Let Herself Go
© 2004

He said it in front of their friends. "Look at the way she's let herself go."

As if his belly didn't spill over his belt, fed by the beer that fermented in his gut until it exploded out his ass, jolting her from sleep, making her gag.

In the shower that night, she cried. "I let myself go?"

She asked to die under that scalding water, to dissolve and trickle away. The water had other ideas.

A woman, sexy and vibrant, emerged from the swaddling steam. She looked upon her loutish husband one last time. Then—she let herself go.

flash fictionBachelor Party Bombshell
© 2004

The room went nuts when the girl popped out of the cake—naked except for those strategic dollops of whipped cream. The groom-to-be stepped up to claim a taste.

George pushed him aside.

"Elsa?"

"Oh, God! Honey, I can explain—I was just trying to make a few dollars to tide us over—money's been so tight since the baby was born ..."

George scooped his bride into his arms and carried her toward the door.

"Hey! What's the idea?" the groom demanded.

George strode defiantly past the outraged guests. "I'm taking my cake—and I'm gonna eat her too!"

flash fictionThe Surprise
© 2003

"Oh, god! It's you."

"Do you like it?"

"It's—it's ... who sketched it?"

"You don't like it."

"No, it's beautiful. It's just— nude."

"I wanted to give you something special ..."

"What do these initials stand for in the corner?"

"It's the artist, okay? He was a perfect gentleman and..."

"I love it."

"You really do?"

"I'm gonna hang it in the office."

"Huh? But, honey, do you think ..."

"It's so erotic. Yes, the office ..."

"No!"

"No?"

"Well, anyone could see it there. This is just for you ..."

"That's right, just for me."

"Stinker."

flash fictionRoommates
© 2003

"Spank me."

"What? Are you nuts?"

"C'mon, I'm wired."

"Let your boyfriend spank you."

"He broke our date. I'm climbing the walls ... c'mon, spank me."

"I don't hit girls."

"It's not the same as hitting ..."

"Forget it. Besides, I'm your roommate, not some fill-in when Stevie can't come by to play."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to feel that way. Anyway, Steve's a jerk."

"He's your jerk ..."

"Not after tonight. So, whad'ya say, wanna see me in socks ... just socks?"

"After a whole year ... never peeking?"

"'Bout time ... don't you think?"

flash fictionI Did?
© 2003

Panic! Who is she? How'd she get here? Did I fuck her? I reach under the covers. No rubber. How could I be so stupid?

Her eyes open, sleepy morning brown. "Hi"

"Hi. I—uh ..."

"Trying to remember my name?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Didn't get a chance to tell you. You were busy saving my honor."

"Huh? I did?"

"You pulled those two guys off me and shouted, 'Unhand yon maiden, scoundrels!'"

"I did?"

"So I helped you home and put you to bed. I owed you that much. You were too wasted to screw."

"Oh."

"I'm Emma."

"Good morning."


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R.E. Buckley

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