Debt

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  He started, sensing a presence behind him.
  “There aren’t many people who can sneak up on me,” he reflected.
  “I didn’t,” the form replied, quietly. “I’ve followed you for a long time; since your very beginning, in fact. And, waited patiently.”
  “I was a good man… once,” he whispered, as realization dawned. “After I was broken, it just became too painful to care.”
  “Life is often that way,” the figure offered. “But, I am not here to judge; only to collect the debt each man must pay.”
  Examining his own body on the ground, he nodded; then turned to follow.

The Inevitability of Things

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

Inspired by Christina Alvarado

  He’s always there. Always following. Steadily gaining ground. Inexorably closing in.
  Too often, he’s forgotten in the rush of life – until he visits someone close, and we’re reminded of the inevitability of things.
  He arrives without joy or malice. He makes no bargains for more time. He expects acceptance, though he is never surprised when people attempt escape.
  I turn quickly, trying to catch a glimpse. He is standing in the shadows. Not hiding – that’s not his way. Moonlight glints off the blade of his scythe.
  “Memento mori,” he whispers.
  I give a knowing nod, and turn to walk on.

Retreat

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For "Her."

  His eyes were drawn to her instantly. Like a firefly in the dark, she was a brilliant flash in the gloom. Catching sight of him, she waved. Memories flooded his brain: how he'd craved her like a drug; the indescribable pain of her leaving; how he'd desperately clung to shreds of sanity while hoping she'd come back, and how she did – more times than he'd admit – only to abandon him once he'd surrendered again. In that moment, his heart realized – finally, reluctantly, accepting – loving her would always end that way. He managed a weary smile, then turned to walk away.

Salvation

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

Inspired by J.S.

  He found something almost religious in making a woman cum; something beyond her calling out to a deity who may or may not exist; beyond the sound of her breathing; the taste of her; the smell of her; the feel of her body. It was the look on her face as an orgasm consumed her – the purity; the erotic symmetry of pleasure and pain twisting her features – that promised salvation.
  Worshiping at her altar – knelt between her legs; his prayers kisses along inner thighs; fingers and tongue eliciting hymns of praise; bodies entangled – their holy spirits discovered ecstasy transcending flesh.

Confessions

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Every eye in the hall turned to seek the source of the explosion of laughter filling the air. Their attention focused on the most beautiful woman in the room – suddenly the most beautiful woman in the world – clinging tightly to his right arm. Her smile, and the slowly fading giggles she struggled to control, ignited a fire in his soul, and proved that she was the right one for him.
  Just moments before, she’d leaned close and whispered, “I’m not wearing panties tonight.”
  He’d carefully considered this confession for a second, gazed into her eyes, and said, “Neither am I.”

Love

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Exposition

  Love begins as the most perfect, pure thing in the whole world. Maybe in the entire universe. But, loving someone – even purely – is imperfect. Being loved by someone is imperfect. Doubt creeps in, weaving through every thought and action; playing tricks on the mind. Its shadow gathers – unnoticed, at first – ‘til trust and affection are obscured in darkness; strangled in a shroud of gloom.
  Once tarnished – its purity sullied – that perfection is lost forever. And, while love may be discovered again – may be tried and treasured – the heart knows its flaws. Still, despite contamination, our hearts long for love again.

Semicolon

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Her mouth moved along his collarbone; planting gentle kisses as she went. Sliding over his shoulder, she spied a tattoo. Even in the dim light, she recognized the symbol.
  “What’s this?” she asked, quietly.
  He turned his head to see what she meant.
  “It’s a semicolon,” he answered.
  “I know that,” she said, her fingertips brushing over the ink. “But, why?”
  “It’s a punctuation mark used to carry on when you could’ve just ended things,” he explained. “And, some people use it to remember.”
  “Remember what?” she prodded, then realized. “Did you…”
  “I carried on,” he whispered, pulling her closer.

Mutual Assured Destruction

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For B.

  They keep their distance. As if by some unspoken mutual agreement, maintaining a safe separation; knowing they are two chemicals that when combined would react violently; building heat until annihilation. They trade surreptitious glances; looking away, not to appear reluctant, but fearing others might recognize the burning desire in their gaze; leading to a worse – more public – destruction. They lust in painful silence – vainly struggling against the concupiscent gravity pulling them together; hungry to touch, to taste, to envelope each other fully; wanting only to surrender to their forbidden passion; even if the price of that fantasy would prove cataclysmic.

Pale Moonlight Memory

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For M.

  We know each other, now, only “on-line;” trading “Likes;” sharing memes, and the occasional message to say “hi.” But, when she posted a tweet joking about her pale skin, my memory took me back more than 25 years; to a tiny kitchen filled with bright moonlight; her naked body luminescent in the beams flooding through the window: glowing like some ethereal being caught, if only briefly, in an unworthy mortal’s sight. I recall the warmth of her flesh – an almost incandescent heat – when we touched, and the regret of a moment that can never be recaptured… except in my mind.

Fever Dream Redux

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  JFK to Paris is a long flight. He’d picked these seats purposefully: last row; a red-eye. Once the plane leveled off, she requested a blanket. After covering them both, she smiled as he nodded.
  His fingers slipped between her legs, tracing along her inner thigh; then pressing against her clit through the wet-look pleather leggings she’d worn because she likes how he stares at her when she does. Her mouth fell open in a gasp.
  He enjoyed knowing she’d struggle to remain silent as he made her cum several times. Then she’d sleep well for the rest of the flight.

The Sundress

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Sunlight spilled through the windows – the open blinds creating geometric patterns on the floor. She leaned back, lounging on a hardwood chair. Legs spread. The folds of her cotton sundress piled between her thighs. It played tricks on his eyes. Perhaps it was the heat… or his drink.
  She traced the top of her tumbler with a forefinger as ice cubes clinked. Droplets formed by condensation crept downward, dripping onto her leg – wetting the flesh just above her knee.
  He watched as she swirled the brown liquid, then drank it down. She stared at him for a moment then smiled.

Trapped

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  She was trapped and she knew it. He stared at her; waiting for an answer. Remaining silent wasn’t an option. Nor, could she equivocate by saying “Whatever would make you happy, Sir.” He’d made it sound like she had a choice, but she knew he was only teasing her… testing her. The handcuffs dangled from a forefinger, swaying back and forth in front of her face; reflecting light into her eyes.
  Slowly, her trepidation turned to anticipation as she remembered how many times he’d made her cum last time.
  “Please handcuff me, Sir,” she purred.
  He smiled as he stood.

Torture

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  He loved to torture her; making her cum in public. In dangerous places; where they might be caught. Here, on the dark balcony, with people inside, talking and laughing. Her ass rubbed against him as she squirmed. He had one strong hand between her legs; the other on her chest, holding her so she wouldn’t collapse.
  “Oh, God,” she rasped.
  Her right hand clapped over her mouth as if trying to capture the words that had just escaped.
  “Quiet,” he whispered, smiling. “Or, do you want them to come out and see what a desperate, wet, little slut you are?”

Last Day

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  I had to see you walk away. Of course. Fate wouldn’t let me simply go about my day… and you’d just be gone… and I could ignore your absence. My eye was drawn to you like a firefly’s light in the darkness, while memory replayed moments you hurt me.
  We said goodbye already – more than a year ago. I, a fool who thought we’d parted friends, telling you, “I just want you to be happy,” only to find out later how badly trust was misplaced.
  I’ll endure one more dagger to the heart. Luckily, there’s nothing left to cut out.

Addict

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Demi.

  He’ll tell you that he has recovered. That he’s clean and sober. That it’s been 10 years since his last relapse. And, he’ll admit that’s all a lie. He knows that he’s an addict. He will always be an addict. The desire; the craving; the itch never goes away. He can feel it creeping in the dark corners of his mind. No matter how long he’s been clean, the temptation doesn’t fade – will never fade completely. He fights battles every day – sometimes every minute. Most he wins; some he loses. But, the next day, he gets up to fight again.

Lady's Choice

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “Do you want a spanking?” he growled.
  “What?” she responded; not sure she’d heard him correctly.
  He waited; refusing to repeat himself.
  “You could get fired for that,” she warned.
  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But, you’ve been acting like a needy little girl all day, and it seems that’s exactly what you want.”
  “I can’t believe you,” she protested, weakly.
  “Sure you can,” he insisted.
  Again, she tried to disagree, but he interrupted.
  “You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you? Imagining my hand slapping your ass,” he taunted. “So, say no; contact HR, or turn around and bend over that table.”

The Center of Attention

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For J.

  Eyes were naturally drawn to her. This wasn’t due solely to her physical beauty, but the attraction was undeniable. Some tried to be subtle – stealing glances – others less so, all but staring at her. Almost unconsciously, he found himself in the latter group; his gaze tracing over the curves of her body – lingering here and there. When she danced, her hips swayed back and forth – hypnotizing him. With each look, the fire of his lust grew hotter. He imagined what it would be like to touch her – even as the guilt of desiring a woman half his age burned him.

My Turn

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Just 10 minutes before, she’d come back from the Ladies Room, and discreetly dropped her green lace panties into his lap. Stuffing them in his jacket pocket, he escorted her from the restaurant, and scanned the street for the nearest place to push her up against a wall. A dimly lit alley provided the illusion of privacy. Hands and tongues probed, roughly; their breath became ragged, and flesh glowed in the warm air. She gasped as his fingers slid inside her. His lips, moving downward to kiss her neck, curved in a wicked smile.
  “My turn to tease,” he whispered.

Reflection

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For James

  Pale moonlight filtered through the dirty window panes, supplementing the meager illumination provided by half a dozen candles. The ancient Medium shuffled to her table – the movement stirring up dust which drifted in the gloom. Taking a seat before her crystal ball, she waved her hands back and forth over it, calling for an image to appear. Her old eyes struggled to focus. Finally, she recognized the dark figure – one she'd seen here many times. A moment later, she realized this was no vision, but a reflection from behind.
  "I've been waiting for you," she sighed, "...for a long time."

Tell Me What You Want

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Even as he dominated her, she could sense his care – desire and respect, control and freedom – all at once. One hand twisted her hair; the other thrust between her legs – fingers roughly manipulating her clit.
  She squirmed, but his body pressed her against the wall; both pinning her in place, and preventing her from falling as she writhed. His lips trailed over her neck while she moaned.
  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, breaking contact.
  She fought for the breath to form words.
  “Tell me,” he repeated. “Or, I’ll stop.”
  Her body shuddered.
  “Please…” she panted. “I need to…”