Scintillectually Yours

She stumbled through the dense undergrowth, falling. She lay prone in the icy water. Droplets of cold rain soothed her bruises. She was weary. So weary. Unsure as to whether her legs would carry her any further, she brought her hands together in supplication. A prayer to the Gods that he wouldn’t find her.

She knew her jungle homeland and this…this man…was a stranger from a strange land. Intruder.

She tried to pick herself up and move on. She needed the safety of her tribal family. She wanted the warmth of her mother’s arms, the love of her sisters. She was tired. So tired. Just as she felt the surge of strength to carry on, she heard the crack of twigs as he blundered out into the clearing and fell upon her.

She cried out as he grabbed her roughly by the hair.

And begged the swollen river swallow him whole, lest he kill her before the night was done.

I regretted this set-up from the moment I met her in the lodge. One, she was not my type.  Two, she was an utter brat. Our plan to go skiing had turned into a chase through the woods, far from the crowded slopes. Breathless and exhausted, I found her, naked and spread-eagled upon her fur coat. She turned to wink at me, her nipples hard and her adorable ass colored by winter’s kiss.

Ah well, my type or not, I’d take one for the team. This time.

Check out other Flash Fiction Friday participants this week:

Insatiabear: A Panserbjorne’s Musings

A View from the Top

Naughty Lexi

Free Advizor

Rozewolf

Lola

He watched her from the doorway, stealthily unwrapping a gift, unable to wait until morning. When he cleared his throat she turned. Blushed. And offered her bountiful breasts as a peace offering for being such a bad, bad girl.

He tried to look stern and reprimanding. There was but one thing to do. He led her by the hand to the sofa (chintz, camelback), aglow in the light from the Christmas tree, and bent her over his knee. She squirmed and moaned under the repeated smack of his hard, black-gloved hand—grinding her pubic mound into his red-clad thigh, his cock pressing hard against her side.

When he felt she’d sufficiently paid for her transgressions, he stood before her and removed his stocking cap and coat. He placed the cap atop her tousled locks and pulled the jacket around her naked curves. And laying a finger aside of his nose, up the chimney he rose. Merry Christmas to all, and to you…you naughty thing…go to bed.

Check out other Flash Fiction Friday participants this week:

Insatiabear: A Panserbjorne’s Musings

A View from the Top

The Oversexed Librarian

Naughty Lexi

Free Advizor

William at The Training of my Lovely Slut