| Quick Flashes
by Cobalt Jade (email@example.com)
A collection of three written for the first-year anniversary of ASSTR
"How can you take that crap seriously?" she said.
"I don't, I just like looking at it. You're an artist, you should know."
"I'm a fine artist," she said, with emphasis on the fine. She glanced
over his shoulder at the book he was so absorbed in: Great Artists of
Fantasy. Page after page of half-undressed, lushly figured warrior
woman and half-undressed, lushly muscled warrior men. She sniffed.
"The have more muscles, but the woman have bigger tits."
" 'I never go to see a where the man's are bigger than the
woman's,' " he said, quoting Groucho Marx.
"I could do a better job," she said, flipping through the pages. "Hell, any
decent artist could."
"What makes you say that?" he said.
"Because these pictures are ridiculous. These people are supposed to be
fighting for their lives, yet they're either posing like beefcake or
surreally detached. Look at this chick being attacked by the dragon.
She's lying there like she's on a towel at the beach, staring disjointedly
at the sky like someone dumped a glass of cold water on her stomach."
"Notice his claw is almost, but not quite, touching her nipple."
"Ha ha, very funny," she said. "And what's with the chains? One goes
around her neck and the other between her legs, but they don't seem to
be attached to anything."
"The one between her legs goes to a pierced clitty, obviously."
"Oh, you're awful! But the angle is all wrong."
"I think those pictures are turning you on."
"Titian turns me on, and, sometimes, Klimt. This stuff, no. It's so
obviously fake, so obviously pandering to some adolescent role-playing
mentality. Now the chick on this page is supposed to be an amazon, but
she has silver toenail polish on, fer Chrissakes! Where'd she get it, the
downtown Hyboria five-and-dime? Readers of fantasy books don't want
a picture-perfect representation of their fantasies; they want
something indistinct, blurred; they want to dream, to fill in the blank
spaces with their imagination. They want emotion and drama, not
pinpoint accuracy. Which is why those ten perfectly painted toenails
don't cut it. And those metal pastie-things over her nipples. How the
hell do they stay on?
"Like this," he said, using both sets of fingers and thumbs to give her a
good, hard tweak.
"Ow! You're really asking for it. And what about those stainless-steel
thong panties? It must like hell when she walks."
"Au contraire. There's a plus-sized dildo in the proper place, and she
uses her vaginal muscles to keep it in...which creates a fair of amount of
lubrication, and the suction ensures it stays very snug..."
"Eep," she said in an unconvincing protest.
"And the thong is kept in place with a second dildo, slightly smaller,
that penetrates her here..."
She let the book drop to the floor.
Will Insurance Cover It?
Hi, my name is Shawna. I'm just your average exotique dancer, 5'8 and
110 lbs with 36 DD and legs that won't quit!! I LOVE my job at the titty
bar. I wear my silver glittering gstring with the thong in back so
people can see my perfet ass jiggle up and down like two bowls of gello.
I love to poledance and rub the pole between my asscheeks. It gets me so
HOT!! Then I squat at the edge of the stage and spread my legs and thrust
my in their faces back and forth but I'm still wearing my thong
and they yell at me Hey baby come over here and suck my cock and I
just might!!! These get me so horny I get down on my hands and
knees and hump the floor and jiggle my ass and they come up and spank
me smack smack and stick $100 bills under my thong and I shake it back
at them. Then when the other dancer comes out we kiss with tongues
showing making sure everyone can see. I'm bi and really get into it!!!
She sucks my and I pull her down and rub her clitt. Our wet
pink pussies are shaved so we show everything and you can see our
cunts and where the fingers go. Then she kneels in front of me & eats
me out with her long wet tongue and I'm about to in her
curly hair and slut makeup and I'm
The looked from the notebook, slightly dazed from the contrast
between the hastily written, sordid scrawl they had just read and the
reassuring normalcy of their son's room with its football trophies,
games, and prom pictures.
"Our son needs therapy," they said.
Note for parents: Though this was written in fun, it's perfectly
normal for teens to have sexual fantasies, even fantasies about being
the opposite gender. If you should come across one, don't overreact like
the in the did!
Would you think I was crazy if I told you I liked to be peed on?
Not just by anyone, of course. By my boyfriend.
There's a ritual involved. First comes the duct tape: wrists, elbows,
ankles, knees. He gets it from the shop. I keep myself shaved, so it's not
a big deal when the time comes to rip it off.
Then comes the diddling. Diddle, tweak, pinch, peck, until I want to
so bad it's practically dripping from my ears. He lifts weights, so his
fingers are blunt and slightly callused, with little boy-bitten nails. He's
particularly fond of squeezing my nipples and calling me a girly-girl.
Meanwhile I'm squirming there on the rubber sheet.
Then he half-shouts half-says, with a schoolyard grin on his face, "Are
YOU ready to COME???"
"Oh yeah, baby, yeah," I say.
"Well then the FLOODGATES have OPENED, DAAARR-lin' --" and his turgid
cock, which has been half-erect all this time, lets loose with the most
golden, warm, wet, delicious, lengthy flow of you can imagine as he
towers over me like a golden god, eyes nearly rolled back into his head,
rocking a little to compress the remainder from his bladder, his
expression one of total and lovely satisfaction and relief. I can't begin to
describe the he makes: buff, tanned flesh, brownish-pink cock,
the ivory triangle around his hips where his swimsuit usually covers
him. And that fountain of golden bliss pouring on and on. There's
nothing degrading about it, only aesthetic.
He takes great care to baste me completely, keeping it off the carpet. I
am surrounded by him, covered in him; it's not unpleasant. Human
doesn't stink unless it's been sitting around for a while.
Afterwards, when we shower, he's always a little apologetic for
enjoying it so much. I nod my head wisely, remembering the Peter-
Peter Pumpkin Eater grin on his face.
Hey, he thinks I'm the one doing him the favor.
These are copyrighted 2000 by Cobalt Jade (Cobaltjade@aol.com). This
work may be freely distributed over electronic media provided no fee
is charged for its use. Charging a fee for this story, or publishing
without author credit or this notice violates my copyright.