Flashers by Richard V Raiment

Bowing to the Muse - A Writer's Tail
© 2004

He writes because he cannot stanch the flow of semen-white blood from his writer's soul. She reads because he's hers. Then, lustful and laughing, she brings each story to their special times.

A hero bound and teased and sucked, she binds and sucks and teases him. A heroine fellated by her man in the restaurant men's room, he knows what will be on the menu the night she books at Giovanni's.

Writing a hero bound and blind-fold, helplessly awaiting the thrust of the strap-on into his ass, the writer hesitates, bows to his Muse, and feels his sphincter tighten.

Young People, These Days
© 2004

Cupping an enviably pert breast in his hand, the youth across the aisle raises his eyes, mouth wet from her lips, and glances at the middle-aged couple on the other side of the railway car. Joyous in new sexuality, there is a joy in challenging them too, in expecting words of censure to fit the stinging riposte in his head.

The older man merely smiles pleasantly, reflecting the warmth radiating joyously upward from the small warm hand of his wife, around the inflamed, happy cock she has drawn naked through his fly and caresses beneath the coat on his lap.

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