Ten Days of Flash - Day 8

Image from aboriginaltourism.com.au

Continuing on with Leone Ross' Ten Days of Flash. The day 8 challenge was right up my alley: take a myth, and modernise it, using only 120 words or less. I chose the Indigenous Australian myth of the Rainbow Serpent; there are lots of different stories about this creature, but most agree that it's associated with water, rains and fertility.

SAVIOURS AND SIDE EFFECTS
By Elliot DeLocke

Smithfield Chemicals burned, oily smoke plumes rolling skyward. Commander Farlane watched his fire crews struggle for control.

“When’s he coming?” he asked.

Dreamtime Liaison Officer Schultz shrugged. “Soon. He got caught up at the Litchfield fire.”

The inferno roared. Chemical storage silos groaned; they’d explode any moment now. Farlane braced himself.

Then... a rumble.

Behind them, a gargantuan serpent reared, scales shimmering with iridescent glory. The beast cried and belched thick, cleansing fog over the fire; toxins were purified, combustibles went inert. Heavy rains were summoned, finishing the blaze off.

Firefighters cheered. The Rainbow Serpent departed, flowers sprouting behind it.

Farlane and Schultz shook hands, politely ignoring each other’s massive, throbbing erections. Working with fertility spirits always had side effects.

Ten Days of Flash - Day 7

Writer Leone Ross has a challenge on her Facebook page called Ten Days of Flash, with the goal of having participants write flash fiction every day for ten days. I found it via Remittance Girl's blog and thought it looked fun, so I decided to jump on board... right around day 7. Because if you're going to do something, you might as well do it half-assed, I guess.

But what the hey. The Day 7 challenge was to write a 55-word piece of flash fiction inspired by one of five posted photos. I choose the picture shown above, and came up with the story below.

THE CLIENT
By Elliot DeLocke

The client’s teeth chattered. Malcolm lent the man his jacket.

“Warmer now, Mister Griffin? Do you need gloves? I’ve only rubber ones, I’m afraid."

The jacket nodded. Malcolm fetched them, acting as thought this were all perfectly normal.

“Better? Okay, from what you’ve told me, you definitely have a libel case against this Wells character...”

Progress

8:00 AM. I wake up, achingly erect and thinking of Janet.

Janet? That’s unusual. But with little hesitation, I grab lubricant from the bedside drawer, slather my cock, begin stroking myself.

I recall Janet, fucking me, riding me hard, hair spilling over her breasts and face twisted with lust. Janet, raking fingers and lips over my chest, letting me clench her ass tight as she bounces.

I gratify myself, stroking, gasping. The memories are intense; I’m desperate to come.

Beautiful, lustful Janet, fucking me. That’s all I think of in this moment.

A marvelous orgasm. Semen bursts from my cock, pouring everywhere.  I moan, loud.

I feel relaxed.

Then, I recall Janet.

Janet, shooting dagger-eyes and dark accusations whenever I interacted with, worked with, or even mentioned other women. Janet, demanding more and more of my time until I saw no one but her. Janet, keeping me awake all night, insulting, threatening, telling me she’d kill herself if I ever left her. Janet, who took four years and tens of thousands to finally divorce.

The memories are queasy, bitter.

But the hot semen on my fingers shows that – for a few moments – I can forget.

That’s progress, right?

Copyright Elliot DeLocke 2014. All rights reserved. Do not reprint in part or in whole without the author’s permission.

Just Rewards

With one last swing, Dukat’s blade cleaved through the Wyrm’s neck. Pale flesh and white bone were parted, and the beast’s head came free, tumbling through the air to land at Dukat’s feet. It’s corpse toppled, then lay still.

Victory! Dukat let out a triumphant roar that echoed throughout the surrounding caverns.

The Wyrm of Amasia – fabled guardian of the ancient Amasian ruins – had fallen. Now, nothing stood between Dukat and his just rewards.

Stepping over the beast’s wilted corpse, Dukat was somewhat surprised. He had expected a tougher fight from the Wyrm, considering the treasures it supposedly guarded, but the beast had been slow and rickety, an easy kill.

Perhaps, Dukat thought, I’m a better fighter than I realize. Just shows how much I deserve the reward.

Want

I want to run my hands up the thighs of the office babe, dressed in killer heels and a grey skirtsuit and stockings with slightly-crooked seams; to unbutton her starched white top to find she’s wearing a black lacey bra, with matching panties further down; to take her into a toilet or supply closet and have her wrap those thighs around me and make pornographic moans from beneath inch-thick librarian’s glasses while I penetrate her; to fuck the button-down corporate bitch and find out she’s a total devil-slut beneath all that professional reserve.

Want, and wish.

Dishes

The kitchen's a mess. Dirty plates are piled four-high, and I have no clean forks or spoons left. Breakfast bowls have been rinsed with hot water, but otherwise sit waiting to be immersed in suds. A frying pan has been wiped down, but not scoured. Tea cups have blackened interiors, desperately needing a scrubbing with steel wool.

There's no dishwasher. Everything needs to be cleaned by hand.

And my hands are currently cupping my balls and sharply pinching my nipples. They are occupied with immersing themselves in water-based lubricant, before gripping my erect shaft and stroking, each pull taking me closer to spurting.

As I fuck myself, teetering on the brink of orgasm, my thoughts occasionally drift back to the dishes. As I masturbate with sloppy, fluid-drenched fingers, I feel moments of shame.

My kitchen is a disgrace, and I know it.

One day - when someone new and lovely enters my life - I will scour every plate, wash each coffee cup and polish every teaspoon. I will disinfect every bench and stovetop. For a new lover, I will work my hands to the bone, and the kitchen will sparkle.

Until then, my hands are too fucking busy.

Baton Blog Hop

For my second ever blog post, Huck Pilgrim, a fellow erotica writer, tagged me to participate in the Baton Blog Hop. Basically, this works by one writer answering four writing-related questions, then passing them on to three other writers, who then answer and pass them on to three others, and so on.

Huck Pilgrim is the pseudonym of a minor author, who craves readers, and doesn't mind working hard on his books. He is a father and a  husband, enjoys his family, writing, and watching movies. His work appears in Best Gay Erotica 2014 and is forthcoming in Homeboys: Urban Gay Erotica from Cleis Press. Check out the link to his homepage for his answer to the four questions, as well as links to other great erotica writers (EDIT: shout out to Sybil Rush, who was tagged by Huck and kind enough to link back to me - she also has a story in the Valentine's Day collection).

The questions, and my answers, are below.