Showing posts with label moan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moan. Show all posts

31 December 2022

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.”


04 April 2022

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…”


11 June 2019

Desire

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Music thunders as we stumble through the back door – clearly marked “No Exit” – finding a dimly lit alley. Surrounded by millions, we two alone exist in this momentary solitude. Mouths mash together; tongues dance; limbs entangle; fingers tear at clothing, fumbling with enclosures.
  “Do it,” you cry; consent, plea, and command all at once.
  Eyes locked on mine, you spin to face the wall; tugging the fabric of your dress, bunching it at your waist. Pounding bass pulsates through our bodies. Flesh and souls merge; moans echo in the darkness. Trembling; plunging steadily deeper, as desire transforms two into one.

02 March 2014

Vulgar Divinity

By Bud Koenemund

For Kitty


The words – vulgar – not for use in polite company.
Yet, somehow beautiful in your mouth…in the moment.
Arms embracing…
Bodies superimposed…
Penetrating…
Fingers searching…
Intertwined…
Mouths touching, each breathing in the others' breath…
…and your moan in my ear, urging me on.

In the physical, we're not "making love,"
or merely "having sex." No, desire for one another has driven us past that.
And, as our little deaths approach…
Inevitable…
Unstoppable…
"Fuck me!"
This plea, paired with endearments, becomes divine;
a connection to some heavenly thing I reach out to grasp
before plummeting back to Earth.