My Twitter friends Ruby and Aisling do inspire me at times. They tweet some amazing flash fiction erotica. This is 100 words or less. Considering once I had problems honing a story to less than 2,500 words, let alone 250, I felt I had to give it a try:
He was always spur of the moment. I never knew when. Out of the blue. A call. A text. A filthy email. 'Now?' he would ask, & I would come.
Running, tumbling on high heels. I always had to be ready. Professional demeanor hiding saucy undies, and sexy lingerie.
We didn't need it but it added spice to our fucking. The cream on the cake. His cream, coating me as he came hard & quick on my tum.
"That was nice." I purred. "Now do it inside me." I growl, wanking him back to hardness. Because I do know how to spur him on, always.
He never calls because in essense he wasn't absent. Seared raw scars of his deep, vivid penetration will remain long after any goodbye.
The burning stickiness of his cum warms me when his cuddles had grown cold and departed. And that memory will never leave my thoughts.
I know I am never far from his thoughts. I only have to whisper his name, and he will know, and get rock hard, upright, at my uttering.
Our fucks, although broken by other calls on our time, never really end. "Don't leave me." I sigh. He replies "Never." and I know he means it.
And you can follow me at http://twitter.com/sanpezzers if you like, too.