Rain…again!

This will be short because it’s thunder and lightning and POURING POUNDING rain…again. We’ve had much rain (not to put us in the same place as those who dealt with Hurricane Florence last week, to be sure) this summer. 4″ last week with the remnants of Florence with streets flooded and manhole covers popping off with the force of it. That won’t happen tonight, but man, I’m really starting to feel…moldy.

Kidding.

Kinda.

I’m really thinking that once it really gets less humid, and cooler, that my sexy juices will start flowing again. Because right now? It’s hard to think about touch another human body …just…no.

I think this is the most unsexy post I’ve ever written..oh another weather alert…(our third of the evening…)

“Two inches of rain has already fallen in your area…”

It’s only been raining for about 30 minutes here. Holy yikes. Well folks, I’m going to put this post out there and go to bed. It is nice falling asleep to the sound of a downpour…right?

Micro Fiction

I’ve been hot, tired, and laggard in doing much of anything that isn’t actually necessary. But in the interest of full truth, my mind is *constantly* churning up little dark and nasty fantasies. And the impetus for some of this is Tumblr, where’s there is good stuff, and darkly dirty stuff, and some even worse stuff that I can’t even bear to write about because it’s awful. But sifting through the drek to the gold…? Ah, there is the joy.

It’s taught me about the tension of micro fiction. And while I won’t profess to being “good” at it, at least I’m giving it a go, here.

This is a gently edited version of what I sent M the other night, in a series of texts over 5 or 6 hours. He said my mind was in the gutter. I love that compliment. 😀

~nilla~

Once upon a time there was a slut. She was always horny.

Always.

One night she dreamed of a man. He was short.

(that line has earned me a beating, btw)

He was a sadistic bastard, she could tell by the gleam in his golden eyes. He crossed the room to where she stood wearing the 6″ crimson stilettos that he’d said would identify her to him at their meeting place.

“Nice shoes,” he said, without breaking eye contact.

She wanted to squirm nervously. Her nipples became hard nubs poking against her dress. Something about that gleam in his eyes made her wet.

His mouth curved into a gently derisive smile, as if he knew.

“I…have to….go…” she stammered.

“Stay.”

He took one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and tugged her closer, closer, until their lips met.

She gushed.