Floating

She fluttered in the murky fluid, quietly waiting for twilight to dissipate into the water below. Stars arched above, milky as they ghosted the song of spheres.

A fetal wait once floated her before a beginning. This, too, was a pause before inception of something yet unknown. She let her thoughts drift fluently away from origin, opening to a nascent genesis.

There, now—

The water rippled toward her, at the surface and below. Pressure built within her as the interval’s end approached. A wake forms; she bobs, without anchor, free—

He grasps her hand as he reaches her side with effortless strokes.

I’m here, love. Let’s go home.

We’ll begin again.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 108
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 18
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Line Dry

He found her sitting at the table in the gazebo, tablecloth spread, dishes laid, pillows tossed along the benches. She looked like the essence of summer itself, her face flush from the sun, her bare shoulders tan above her sundress.

“Hope this fried chicken is as good as you said it would be.”

She smiled as she took the bag he offered. “It will be. It’ll be as tasty as the rest of this picnic.”

He sat on the bench beside her, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping his left arm around her shoulder, gliding his palm over her smooth, warm flesh. His right hand slipped beneath the hem of her dress, sliding along the inside of her parted thighs, slowly working his fingers toward her heat.

Her eyes closed as he whispered in her ear, “Oh, it will be a very tasty feast, and accessible, too.”

“What—”

“Shh. Every pair of panties you own is hanging on the line, dear. Which can only mean one thing—”

She jumped ever so slightly, then sighed as his lips grazed her neck and his fingertips met her softest, warmest flesh.

“Dinner is served, my love, time to eat.”
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 197 
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 17 
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Defloration

"You know I love you, right?"

 "Yes."

"And I would never do anything to hurt you, because I love you."

"Yes."

"You know I would do everything within my ability to help you. I'd give my right arm for you."

"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

"Um—"

"Are you scared? I know what it feels like. It'll be okay, though, I promise."

"Yes, I admit it. I'm afraid everyone will know and tease me afterward."

"It doesn't show, though. Do I look different to you? You've known me since kindergarten."

"No, you look like you always do. You look confident."

"You'll feel more confident afterward, I can't deny that."

"Okay, let's do it. I hereby appoint you my Chief of Defloration."

"Thank you, I will make this as easy and painless as possible. When would you like to do this?"

"Now. Let's take care of this now. I want to get this out of the way and enjoy you without this hanging over our heads."

"Okay. Let's go to my room. I'm pretty excited about this."

"You? You're excited?"

"Yup. It's not every day a girl gets to pop a boy's cherry."

He took her hand and smiled, relieved.

__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 198
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 33 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt, 1 of 2: origin unknown | Word prompt: Defloration

Starry Night

Perseids, he said, meteors will wash the sky tonight.

Mosquitoes, she said, you know I'll get bit up.

Lakeside, he said, the campfire's smoke will chase them away.

Fireflies, she said, won't like the smoke either.

Trust me, he said, it'll be fine, better than fine.

We'll see, she said, I've been burned before.


It was everything he claimed, she said, when her friends asked.

More beautiful than stars, he said, were her eyes last night.

A star fell on the lake, she said, we made a wish together.

Look at the star now, he said, holding out her diamond ringed hand.

__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse

Words: 102
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 16
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Irrumatio

“I have something for you,” she whispered in his ear, running her hands down his dress shirt. She loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar.

“Yes?” He unbuckled his belt as he stepped out of his oxfords.

“French art,” she growled, taking two steps back before untying her wrap dress.

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Gainful knowledge.” Her dress slid off, silk puddling on the floor.

“Continue.” He opened his zipper as he watched her intently.

“Gamahuche,” emphasized by the release of her brassiere and its plummet to the floor.

“And?”

“Fellatio.” She stepped out of her pumps.

“Ah.” He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs.

“Flute playing.” Her panties dropped onto the discarded attire.

He couldn’t choke out another sound, mesmerized as she took a step forward and dropped to her knees.

“Irrumatio,” she whispered as she reached into his boxers and pulled out his tumescence. She ran her tongue around the head, savoring the crystal drop that greeted her as he reached complete erection.

There were no more words for some time, only the soft sounds of pleasure as he took the offering of her plump, lipsticked lips and her warm, soft mouth.

__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 199
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 31 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: Irrumatio

Lesson

The smooth gloss of health is gone from his hide.

“Feel here?”

My hand mirrors hers.

We palpate a distention, warm beneath our hands.

“We have to put him down.”

The life-bearer talks of death as if it were an obligation.

My tears slip, unbidden and unwanted, like the mass before us.

I am a child again, resisting the first day of school. I do not want this lesson, this task.

“I know you want him forever, but it can’t be.”

I want to throw myself down on the straw, screaming.

“Our responsibility is to add quality, not suffering, to others’ lives.”

My feet scuff the chaff, raising dust. He snorts weakly. I regret my angry footwork.

“This will hurt. Not him. He’ll simply go to sleep. But you are going to hurt. I can’t make that go away.”

My chest already clenches with pain.

“This is the toughest thing I will ever have to teach you. A good mother must bring death. You must be brave enough to end the suffering, even when it hurts you deeply to do so.”

Her face mirrors mine.

Her tears slip, unbidden and unwanted, like the duty before her.

__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 14
Photo prompt: origin unknown
Winner