Two Haiku

By Bud Koenemund

Muse
For Lindsay

Her body sates lust;
but her bright green eyes ignite
imagination.


Human
For Lindsay

Lust makes me a fool;
love makes me an idiot.
Both make me human.

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.”

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.

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.

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."

Sated

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Eyes locked; lips touching;

two bodies becoming one,

'til lust is sated.

Helpless

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Her heart raced as he tightened the steel handcuffs on her wrists. His fingertips brushed over bare flesh, tracing upward along her spine. Leaning back against the wall, he pulled her to him, and wrapped his strong arms around her. Her eyes went wide as his left hand clutched her throat, cutting off her breath. She was helpless, though not at all afraid of being so… not with him. For several moments, his right hand rested between her breasts, feeling her heartbeat; then drifted downward, across her stomach. He kissed the back of her neck as she melted into him.

Two Haiku for a Girl with Green Eyes

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

I

My words, which delight,

take their birth in your eyes; thus

you spark your own joy.

II

Is't lust or madness -

blind chance or fate - that my words

dwell in your green eyes?

Consent

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “Why don’t you touch me?” she asked, once the elevator door closed and they were alone.
  “Excuse me,” he returned.
  “Every other man here touches me as they walk past,” she said. “My back; or my shoulders; as they move around me.”
  For several moments, he remained silent.
  “I would never put my hands on you without your consent,” he said, finally.
  “And, if I gave you my consent?” she asked, stepping toward him.
  “Then, I would put my hand on your cheek, tilt your head up, and kiss you,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
  The door slid open.

Sweet Nothings

Want

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 word story

For Lindsay

  I want to push you against the wall, and mash my mouth against yours; kissing you until we’re both gasping for breath. I want to pull your hair, leaning your head back, exposing your delicate neck to my lips. I want your legs wrapped around me as I carry you to bed. I want to tear the clothes from your body as we fumble toward ecstasy. I want to stare into your eyes, and clutch your throat, as we fuck – not making love – each other into delirium until we collapse; sweaty and exhausted; our limbs entangled, as we whisper endearments.

Microfiction Combo Pack

  Here are three microfiction (100 words, or less) stories written over the last two weeks (OK, I wrote two of them, and came up with the third by re-working an older story). They were written for a contest run by a friend on The Facebook.

  I don't usually write this kind of stuff, and wasn't going to enter the contest, but a few ideas popped into my head (you never know when, where, or how inspiration will strike). Each story had to contain the words "rattling" and "wall."

  Enjoy.

- Bud

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To Be, Or Not To Be

  Every day, for as long as he could remember, Bartleby awoke with the same questions rattling against the walls of his weary brain: Would a person be considered suicidal if he simply didn't care if he woke up in the morning? If he were disappointed by the realization he had to struggle through at least one more day before he could finally lie down and die, ending the spiral of pain and confusion life had become? If he sometimes contemplated an act he knew himself too chickenshit to actually commit?

  Grudgingly, he rose to endure yet another day of emptiness.

Those Who Cannot Remember the Past

                                                 

  The insatiate gathered above Wall Street, on gilded balconies overlooking the rabble – the indebted; those without jobs; those left homeless when the housing bubble burst, and so many banks collapsed, rattling the economic security of the middle-class – the self-proclaimed 99 percent. They laughed, took pictures, and mocked the people; toasting the disaffected with champagne sipped from crystal flutes. They were among the elite in a world of margins and algorithms; puts and calls; dollars and cents. But, insular, and blinded by their greed, they could not feel the heat of a fire whose glow already lit the horizon.

Fallback Guy

  "Please," she cried, grabbing him.

  He avoided her gaze as her fingers sank into the fabric of his jacket.

  "Please, kiss me," she pleaded. "I know I hurt you. But, I love you. And, if you kiss me right now everything will be OK."

  He looked into her eyes. Everything he'd wanted stood before the wall he'd built; the words he'd desired to hear rang in his ears. And, the memories of every time she'd hurt him; of every time she'd disappeared; when she'd chosen someone else, rattling his sanity, flowed through his brain.

  "I can't," he said, turning away.

Eyes: Young and Blue

Not a fan of my blue eyes. I adore brown. Who wants to swap?
- Lara Schutz, 22 February 2011


Photograph by Lara Schutz - copyright 2008


Eyes: young and blue. One matched pair, slightly used;
Called striking, on occasion. Asking trade.
No known impairments, still sparkle like new.
Seeking an extra-genetic upgrade;
Recessive genes – too slow in receding –
Have denied me the brown shade I adore.
Thus, I beg an exchange satisfying
Purely aesthetic desire, nothing more;
My mind will retain the burdens perceived
Within a scant two dozen years of sight;
Memories – good and bad only conceived –
Remain, to fade slowly in life’s twilight.
Alas, I know this yearning is but vain
Hope, tinged with an envy I can't constrain.