White Claw Lies (a song)

Lyrics by Bud Koenemund
Music (to be determined)

For Jenna

I can’t help but answer when she calls.
I know what she wants, but I can’t resist;
she begs, and pleads to come over,
and my ever hopeful heart will insist.
I’ll enjoy the trace of watermelon
still lingering on her soft lips,
and the intoxicating way that demon
drink makes her swing those hips.

[Chorus] Her coming here throws gas on embers that never burned out;
               But, I can’t blame her. We both know it’s my flaw;
               Re-igniting flames that’ll only warm one of us.
               No, it ain’t the whiskey I’m singing about;
               it’s not beer, gin, or even that damned tequila;
               it’s her White Claw lies that’ll leave me a mess.

I don’t know how many she’s had, but
she’ll be mine again, for a little while.
I oughta say no; be strong and save myself,
but my strength fades every time I see that smile.
There’s no doubt it’s a mistake to let her in.
But, her arms wrap around me as she floats through the door,
and, in an instant, I’m all hers again
before her pretty sundress even hits the floor.

[Chorus]

She’ll fulfill the promises she made on the street;
driving me wild, and messin’ up my sheets.
But, momentary happiness only leads to sorrow
when, it’s no surprise, she’s gone tomorrow.
She’ll slip away before the sun comes up;
leaving me all alone, and beggin’,
knowing I shouldn’t have believed her,
after those White Claw lies fooled me again.

[Chorus]

I can’t help but answer when she calls…

I Know Your Fantasies

By Bud Koenemund

A 200 Word Story

  “I want to be loved and respected,” she said.
  “You deserve that,” he replied. “Someone who will make sure you’ve eaten, and that you get enough sleep; who sends you ‘good morning, beautiful’ texts, and tells you to be careful when you leave the house.”
  She stared at him.
  “But,” he continued, “I’ve seen your social media accounts. I’ve seen the stuff you ‘Like’ and re-blog, and I know what you really want. I know your fantasies.”
  “I…” she began.
  “You want to be dominated,” he interrupted. “You want to be controlled; tied up; handcuffed; gagged; used; slapped; spanked, and called names.”
  “Oh, my God,” she moaned, quietly.
  “You want someone to pull your hair, and wrap their hand around that pretty neck of yours,” he growled, not pausing. “And, you want to be fucked hard until you can’t even think.”
  Her gaze fell to the floor and she blushed.
  “Look at me,” he commanded.
  Hesitantly, she complied.
  “And, after all that,” he said, “you want to be cared for, and cuddled to sleep.”
  His fingers slid between her legs; brushing her inner thighs.
  “If you want me to stop, say so,” he whispered. “Otherwise, you’re my little whore now.”

Santa

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Crawl onto my lap.
Whisper your naughty wishes.
We’ll make each come true.

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.

Fever Dream

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Joining the club:
a mile high; watching you
squirm in ecstasy.

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.

Spaghetti

By Bud Koenemund

  The question hung in the air long enough for him to know her answer would be a lie.
  “No,” Amy said, finally.
  The right corner of his mouth curved up, just a millimeter.
  “Never?” he challenged. “Not even all the times you two went on vacation together, and got drunk every night?”
  More silence. He waited.
  “Well…” she began. “Once, in Cabo – we were both buzzed – I woke up during the night, and May was between my legs, eating me out.”
  “What did you do?” he asked.
  “What do you mean?” she returned.
  “Did you tell her to stop?” he pressed.
  “N… no,” she admitted.
  “Then you liked it?” he observed.
  “No,” she objected, a little too vehemently.
  “Then, why didn’t you stop her?” he charged.
  Her gaze fell to the floor.
  “Because, I wanted to cum,” she whispered.
  “So, you liked it,” he stated.
  “I mean… in the moment,” she allowed. “Yes.”
  He tried to reply, but she interrupted.
  “I’m straight,” she blurted. “I would never do that sober.”
  “What you do drunk is what your subconscious wants,” he countered.
  She didn’t protest. A soft knock drew their attention to the door. A moment later, May entered the room.

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…”

You'll Be Damned

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  The hardest part of accepting you’re not a superhero anymore is the realization that truth, justice, and the American way aren’t black and white. They all exist in shades of gray. And, one day – perhaps more than one – you have to make the decision to do a little wrong in order to do a greater right. The difficulty isn’t in worrying about being caught by someone else: it’s living with yourself; with the death of your idealism. After believing in something with everything you are – then violating it – you feel your heart break… and know you’ll be damned for it.

Love

By Bud Koenemund

I'm constantly torn

between revelation and

self-preservation.

Madness

By Bud Koenemund

Images tease me;

driving imagination

closer to madness.

I'm the Guy

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  I’m the guy who remembers little things you said six months ago – things you don’t even remember saying. I’m the guy who brags about how smart, and pretty, and funny you are. I’m the guy who sends “Good morning, Beautiful” texts, just to let you know I’m thinking about you. I’m the guy who tries to cheer you up after a bad day; who lives to see you smile; who’d bring you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick; who can talk about everything… and who knows when to say nothing.
  But, I’m never the guy you fall in love with.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  It’s not the money; let’s be clear about that from the start. Though $140 for the special edition, collectible bottle of whiskey she needed to complete her set wasn’t cheap, I had the money… and a desire to please her.
  No, the issue is the glaring example of my continued foolishness; of how – during a global pandemic – I set out upon a quest for this grail: an item she’d mentioned once, months before, during a late-night discussion about things we collect. For me, another lesson in idiocy; thinking that showing I cared for her, and listened to her, mattered.

Modern Muse

 By Bud Koenemund

Each time my phone “dings,”
my heart hopes that it is you.
My mind knows it’s not.