For your reading pleasure. 13 Random snips from 4 current submissions:
1- As my luck dictated, my new-to-me boxer-briefs were too damn tight. No way in hell was I complaining though, nuh-uh, not this white boy. The last thing I needed was to get slapped with a rep for whining less than ten minutes in the gate. My nuts could live a few days being mashed like a potato.
2- Hot enough? Shit, it’s over a hundred degrees at eight o’clock at night. It’s hot enough to fry an egg on Satan’s balls.
3- “Ah, sweet Nora, the passion of loving a woman you can’t wait to be inside encompasses your body and your soul. It is possible to love her with all your heart while wanting to fuck her until she screams your name.”
4- “Love is magical, Salome. It’s a force that doesn’t have a match. It’s stronger than any man and softer than any woman. You’ll know it when it comes.”
5- Oh joy, I’m bunking with the spawn of Satan and the Christian Coalition. Religion doesn’t bug me. Just keep it to yourself. Don’t try to save me and we’re good. God never did shit for me. I’ll save my own ass, thank you very much.
6- Shame descended like a firestorm, scalding him. Damn, why was he torturing himself like this, lusting after some nameless bombshell? Why hadn’t he just walked out, dirty laundry be damned? Because you are a masochistic asshole who wondered ‘what if’ and, barring that, want to feed your vivid sexual fantasies, that’s why.
7- The laughter turned wicked, a razor fine edge of devilment that scored along her irritation and carved it away. She palmed her forehead. “James, what in the hell were you thinking sending me a vibrator?”
“Come on, sweetheart, I’d think the purpose is obvious.”
8- Only his iron will held the brewing storm of passion at bay. His heaven-shade eyes would darken with lust and the sultry scent of want wafted between them, growing thicker with each day. Salome waited. Nature could not be rushed nor could it be restrained. The storm would come.
9- The laugh slid off his face, grim lines drawing his twisted lip down farther. His teeth snapped hard enough for me to hear the crack and he growled. “Stay away from Josh.”
Bingo, lightbulb. So that’s how it is. Beelzebub and the Jesus-jockey were butt-buddies.
10- Her braid must be too tight. And the broken ventilation system had baked her brain. And maybe the bagel she had for lunch was past its due date. That was why her head was throbbing. It had nothing to do with the Jerry Springer-esque turn of her life.
11- She’d dropped her rose when she’d kissed him and glistening flakes dotted the flower like frozen tears. She bent and picked it up, touching the frosty cream to her lips. It felt like his mouth – slick and soft, and against her lips the petals were as cold as his eyes had been.
12- The blame was his. Ego made him brave. Her tenderness made him weak. The liquor made him stupid. Righting the flask, he brought it back to his mouth, draining the last few swallows. Now if it would just bring him oblivion.
13- “What’s your number?”
Bone turned slow, like the air was too thick, molasses or Jell-o or something. Our gazes locked and I swear to fucking God the temperature dropped five degrees his stare was so cold. A wicked curl lifted his lip. “665, any more and I’d be the devil incarnate.”