Rain, Rain, Rain

Click here for companion post
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain cascaded down in gentle pine scented drops, coating Jacqui in a cool sheen of aloe as she walked through the forest. Wiping the rain from her eyes, she saw off in the distance, a small globe sitting on a miniature pine tree, and realizes that she's almost home.

Walking up the pathway, she notices that one of the rain barrels is overturned and partially smashed. Upon closer inspection, she sees a medium sized red spot on the barrel, and a long reddish-green trail heading off to the left that disappears into the brush.

Worried, Jacqui leaves her knapsack on the porch and cautiously opens the front door. Poking her head in, she briefly looks around the living room, before taking a few steps inside.

Grabbing a bat from the hall closet, she calls out, "Hello?" and waits for a response. With only silence greeting her, she decides to check out the rest of the cabin. Going from room to room, she finds nothing. Inside her bedroom, she opens the window for some fresh air, and sees light pouring out of the root cellar.

Heading outside, she walks over to the hatchway, knocks on the door, and asks, "Anybody there?"
"Jacqui?" answers a female voice pensively.
"Yes Sandra. Who else would there be knockin' on the door?"
"Undesirables."
"Really?"

Jacqui opened the door and wondered what Sandra got herself into this time. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, the loud melodic voice of a female fucking herself silly said it all. Sighing, she knocked on the door labeled Toys and Play Things and said, "Sandra Denise Cobra, you come out right this instant."

The door cracked open and out slithered a female humanoid king cobra. Buxom with curly auburn hair and a silver nose stud, Sandra was sporting a very unfashionable black eye as well. Jacqui took a closer look at the swollen eye and frowned.

"You didn't."
Sandra didn't say anything. Instead, she handed to Jacqui a large roll of bills. Jacqui took the roll, examined it for a few seconds, frowned even more, and said, "You did. Is he in there?"
Sandra nodded and slithered back into the room. Opening the door, Jacqui wasn't too surprised to see a rather long line of voluptuous women anxiously waiting for their turn at bat.

In the far corner of the room, was a lounge chair containing a nude man securely four pointed and gagged. Straddling his waist was the medium built MiLF, whose voice Jacqui heard only minutes earlier, happily fucking the living daylights out of herself. Next to the chair, was Sandra holding a large syringe filled with medication.

Jacqui waited until the MiLF disengaged herself before walking over to the lounge chair. Putting her hand up for a moment, she then gave the man a closer look. After giving her approval, she said to the man, "Don't worry, you're just having a bad dream. We're all just figments of your overworked imagination."

Sandra leaned over and stuck the needle deep within the base of the man's rod. The man strained mightily against the gag, before passing out. The injection however, did its job, as the man became rock solid again.

"How long has this been going on?" asked Jacqui, who was very annoyed at what Sandra was doing.
"Two and a half days."
"I gathered that's how you got the black eye, right?"
"Yeah. I found him out in the woods lumber jacking. Man oh man, he was by far the biggest one yet."
"I can see that. Listen, didn't we agree that doing this type of playing was off limits?"
Sandra took out a piece of paper and handed it to Jacqui. Jacqui read the contents, crumpled the paper and threw it at Sandra.

"When did this come?"
"Three days ago. It's due tomorrow."
"And this is how we're going to pay the bill?"
"Seventy-five a pop for five minutes worth of pleasure and a chance at paradise."
"How many shots have you given him?"
"Counting this one, twenty-five."
"Twenty-five?! Are you mad?"
"Listen, I don't like this anymore than you do, but we need the money. I'm getting some good tips, in addition to the hefty price tag. I'm telling you, this guy is golden."
Jacqui didn't say another word. She stormed out of the cellar, and went to the woodshed to finish an antique bookcase reproduction.

Two hours later, Jacqui was applying the last coat of maple stain when a loud scream pierced through the night air and chilled her to the bone. Incredibly upset, she chucked the can through the glass window, blasted out of the shed and hoofed it to the root cellar.

Sandra was cleaning the toy room, when the lady who got to paradise, asked her about what all the racket was going on outside.
Sandra listened for a minute, turned two shades of white, and said, "Overdue bill."
"For what?"
"Trips to paradise."
~~~~~~~~~~

(c) 2015 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved

Strike 'Em Out!

"First off, I want to welcome the listeners who decided to tune in for our Wednesday night game of the week between the Brooklyn Neophytes and the Hannibal Hammers, being played in the always lovely yet completed desolate Badger Field, complete with it's very own badge swaying on the flagpole. As I mentioned earlier in the broadcast, the Neophytes are staggering along through a super-ugly twelve game losing streak, and so far, this game is shaping up to be their baker's dozen in a row. Neophyte pitcher Billy Bellingham has just finished his warm ups, so I turn it over to my erstwhile colleague Hank Coulter. Hank?"

"Thanks Nick. It seems like Billy is gonna be the sacrificial goat tonight, with his team trailing the visiting Hammers fifteen zip. For the top of third, he'll be facing the Hammer's eight through one, and boy let me tell you, they got some serious bruisers. Let's hope he can find that old black magic that has so far eluded him during this record losing streak, and in fact, has been the key contributing factor the Neophytes lack of positive reinforcement. What say you Nick?"

"I say that there's a conspiracy, or at the very least, a collusion amongst the league that has so far gotten Billy acting like a little league pitcher."

"Right you are Nick, right you are. Anyways, Billy looks in, shakes off the catcher a couple of times, finally gets one he likes, gets set and here's the windup and the pitch. Oh Good Lord, he's just uncorked a lollipop to the backstop!"

'Time!' says Markie as he slowly walks the ball back to Billy. Billy steps off the mound to meet him and holds out his glove. Markie drops the ball and says, "Problem focusing?'
'Ya think?'
'You know, no one is going to do what you want them to do. They're on to your little façade, and there's no way in hell that they're gonna put anymore players on the d.l. So please, man up, cowboy up, suck it up, get down on your knees and blow that baseball, whatever it is you need to do to snap out of this funk, 'cause you know this is it. They ain't gonan save yor sorry ass tonight unless do something. Got it?'
'Fuck you,' says Billy as he returns to the mound.
Markie shakes his head and slowly trudges back to the plate. Squatting, he throws a handful of dirt in the air, pounds his glove and sighs.

"So Nick, think that little chat Markie had with Billy will work?"

"I don't think so Hank. Anyways, Billy looks in, nods, and arrives at the set position. He seems to be taking an awfully long time to throw the ball, and I think, yes...he steps off the rubber. He's grabbed the resin bag, shakes it thoroughly, and throws it to the ground. Now he's stepping back on the rubber, gets to the set position, and here's the pitch. No, wait! The batter steps out of the box and calls time, and the umpire calls "no pitch!" Oh bad luck for Billy, as he finally got a pitch over the plate and it gets waved off."

"What a shame indeed, Nick! It looks like old Billy goat is absolutely livid. Maybe, just maybe, this was the catalyst need to jumpstart his game. Looks like the catcher is calling time again. He starts his slow walk towards the mound, but wait, it looks like he's detouring towards the dugout."

'Boss?'
'What's up with Billy?'
'Off hand, I say he's about to go apeshit.'
'Are you sure?'
'Am I sure? About as sure as your fantasy of porking the owner's trophy wife not coming true.'
'Hey, watch your mouth!'
Markie walks over to the newbie and pokes him hard in the chest with his mask. The newbie crumples to the ground, spits up a geyser of blood and passes out. Satisfied, Markie takes his leave and waits for the inevitable.

"Hank, it looks like Billy is down with his tantrum."

"Right you are, Nick. Billy steps on the rubber, here's the windup and the pitch...Oh My God!!! Did you see that Nick? Nick? Where are you Nick? Holy cow ships, Nick, what is that horrendous smell in the booth?! And what is that brown stuff oozing down your shirt. Oh My God Nick! Look on the field! It's...it's...a geyser of...MANWHICHES!!!! I think I'm gonna...."

As the sound of breaking glass, a stomach leaving someone's body and horrific screams overloads the airwaves, an authoritative voice briefly interrupts the din., "We'll return you to the game as soon as order is restored, or when enough body parts are found to create a few good players, whichever comes first. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek at our upcoming special, 'The Best Screams From The Best Low Budget Horror Movies: The Eighties' Enjoy!"

If you find this story interesting, please give some thought to checking out my short story trilogy Broken Promises, available at Smashwords.

(c) by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved

Audio Dynamyte!

She was a voluptuous thirty-one year old redhead, full of fire and brimstone, and was wowing them on the adult lecture circuit. No matter where she spoke, she always drew a packed house.

Tonight was no exception, as The Cat's Meow was filled to capacity. A crowd of fresh faced collegians, tired businessmen and blue collar workers, were chomping at the bits waiting for her to preach.

At precisely nine o'clock, the lights dimmed and the stage went completely black. A small spotlight comes on and slowly illuminates the center stage, gradually revealing a solitary figure.

A solitary figure that was dressed in very tight blue jeans, sneakers, and a form fitting light blue tee-shirt that bare contained her natural assets. Next to her on a stool was a c.d. player, which after a push of a button, flavors the atmosphere with a smooth jazz instrumental.

Stepping back into the darkness, she soon reappears wearing a wireless headset. She then unties her pony tail and rearranges her cherry red hair so it falls over both sides of her body.

Clearing her throat, she then lowers the volume on the c.d. player before beginning her 'lecture'. "Good evening everyone. I can see that I have a packed house tonight. Rest assure gentlemen, you will not be disappointed.

"As you can see, I have been blessed with a fantastic body. Long legs," which she points at, "a round yet firm ass," which she drops her jeans to show, "a sensual mouth," in which she places her index finger in and ever so slowly pulls it out, "and a great set of tits," in which she briefly tweaked the nipples for emphasis.

"I realized that some time ago that since I was blessed by God with such a fantastic body, that I should share it with the rest of the world. One way I've been able to do that, is to make adult movies. As you can see from the posters behind me," and the stage lights came up, focusing on a baker's dozen of adult movie posters, "I was very successful in using my body to raise awareness for God.

"Another way for me to spread the word of God, was to give live performances. How to go about doing it was the hard part. There were many, many ways for me to do it, but in the end, I settled on the way you're about to see tonight. So without further ado, the Cat's Meow is proud to present to you for your viewing pleasure, Audio Dynamyte."

She stopped her audio and stepped over to the c.d. player. Quickly changing c.d.'s, she restarted the player and stepped back to center stage. As the sound of seventies soul drifted out of the player, she started swaying sensuously to the beat. After about a minute, she undid the top button to her jeans and rolled the waistband down an inch.

"Gentlemen, as you can plainly see, I have no tan lines where it counts. And I don't think I have to explain to you how I tan, now do I?" She then turned around and showed just a brief hint of ass, before facing the audience again.

"And you can see that although my ass is very firm, it is very supple. It has been caressed by some of the hottest hunks and foxiest babes in the industry today. They can all tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God did bless me with the finest piece of booty this side of the Mississippi."

She then took her jeans and dropped them until they were under the cheek, yet still kept the front in the same position. "Woo, that's cold," she said after a blast of cool air from a backstage fan touched her backside.

"Gentlemen, this particular piece of booty, is the best that you'll ever see in your lifetime. When God created my booty, he broke the mold afterwards." She then turned her supple ass towards the audience and began to lightly run a finger over it.

"I'm going to do a demonstration and show to you just how massaging an excellent piece of ass is one of the many components...to...a...woman's...happiness." She stuttered the last four words as a small, but very intense, hot flash hit her.

"Wow, I do believe I'm getting a bit overheated," she said while fanning herself for a few seconds. A light murmuring from the audience brought a smile to her face, which helped refocus her energies again.

"Well...this is the time in our program where I do a very brief show and tell. I show you a small positive sign that the gentle massaging/feathering is doing it's job and tell you about it." At this point, she unzipped her jeans and opened the waistband.

A stronger murmur from the audience told her that she was back on track. "Gentlemen, the glistening pussy that you see in front of you, is the absolute best that God created. It has satisfied many a cock and many a pussy in its illustrious career, and more importantly, has been satisfied by many a cock, many a pussy and lips of both genders in its illustrious career.

"At this point, in order to keep that pussy glistening," and she paused to roll her tee-shirt up to the bottom of her tits, "you have to move your foreplay from playing with that soft delicate ass of your lady, to your lady's silky smooth stomach, abdomen, and of course, her scrumptious pussy."

She stopped what she was doing with her ass, and pulled up her jeans. She then disappeared into the darkness. The first thing the audience noticed was that the music changed back to soft jazz. The second thing they noticed, was a doctor's couch was being wheeled to the center stage. And finally, the last thing they noticed was that a pitcher of water was placed next to the couch.

She got herself situated on the couch, and readjusted her clothing to what it was before she left. Nodding her head, the spotlight tightened up. "Gentlemen, as you can see, it's important to bring your foreplay to the next level. Feather touching your ladies stomach and abdomen will go a long way to helping your lady build to what should be a mind blowing orgasm.

"Also, don't forget to work on that essential piece of property she owns. A little TLC, like I'm about to give you an example of, will help you achieve your ultimate goal." She proceeded to take her jeans completely off, leaving her sneakers and above the knee socks on.

"Brrr, I'm feeling a little cold up here right now. I think I better start warming up." she said suggestively. Using two fingers on her right, she playfully teased a few strands of hair, while spreading the remainder with her left.

"As you can see, with just the tiniest bit of movement, you can quickly bring your lady to that next plateau of...of...fore...play." The last few words were stuttered as the mini-orgasm that she had only started on about thirty seconds ago, nailed her good.

She sat straight up for a few seconds as a large wave of pleasure rook hold of her body, before slamming her back to the couch. Gripping the top of the couch, she white knuckled her grip as a series of small, but very intense, orgasms racked her body.

The orgasmic convulsions soon subsided and she released her grip. Exhaling, she waited for the audience to collectively finish what she'd started them off on only a few minutes ago.

While waiting for that collective "Ahhhh.....yes", she rolled up her tee-shirt the rest of the way and began to feather touch the bottom of her right tit. Almost instantly, she arched her back and began to moan softly. The audience finished catching up and soon became spellbound watching the performance.

From the darkness, someone whistled just loud enough to break her concentration. With a supreme effort, she stopped what she was doing and folded her hands in prayer. After about a minute or so, she regained enough composure to speak without losing it.

"Well....we now move on to the third part of the body that us women use as a weapon, the tits. Now it just so happens that God, in addition to blessing me with a tight ass and a even tighter pussy, has truly blessed me with a perfect set of 42D's for tits.

"To properly incorporate the tits with what you're doing at the moment, they have to be handled sensibly. Which means, to get the maximum amount of usage, the nipples simply have to be erect. The nipples are the most sensitive part of the tit, and as such, they need delicate care. Normally, the mouth would do the trick in getting them erect. The suction power that the mouth..." She paused for a moment as a sweet memory flashed across the face.

The club owner, who was watching from backstage, came out and poured a glass of water for her before delivering a loud wolf whistle. She cleared her throat again, and continued, "Yes, well...since we don't have a mouth..." Before she could go any further, she was interrupted by a wave of men volunteering their services. She smiled and waved her hands to calm the crowd down.

"My isn't this an excitable crowd tonight," she said cheerfully. Taking the glass of water, she took a couple of sips before sticking her fingers in the glass. This definitely quieted the audience, since they realized that she was now at the climax of her performance. She took her fingers and gently tweaked her nipples with the water. Slapping them a couple of times, they were soon very erect.

"Among the many talents I have, and there are an abundance to choose from, one is nipple fucking. But...I digress. Besides the areola, the nipple is one of the most sensual parts to play with. Playing with the nipples and the clit, are the one two punch that will bring to your lady, endless orgasms.

She then began the final demonstration. She took her right index finger and started to slowly work on her clit. At the same time, she flicked at her nipples for a few seconds, before switching to a gentle pinch between the fingers. As the orgasm began to build, she changed from a gentle nipple pinching, to feather circling the areolas. Building up steam, she added vocals into the mix, as she began to moan quite loudly.

Initially, the audience was silent, but as she progressively moved towards the ultimate curtain call, they became more vocal, until it seemed like they became one with her. With every breath she took and every sound that came out of her mouth, they too began building to the finish.

Crossing an invisible line, she picked up the pace and concentrated at the task at hand. She
stopped working the nipples and areolas and instead grabbed the back of the couch, while at the same time, shifting gears with her clit.

Squirming as she reached that first plateau, she kept pouring on the pressure as she got to the second, then stuck a finger in to bring herself to that orgasm.

At the summit, she sat straight up and yelled, "Oh my fucking God, good Lord Jesus Christ, you have helped me achieve nirvana! Take me home, for I am yours!" before collapsing and rolling off the couch to the stage.

"Last night at The Cat's Meow nightclub, adult movie actress Shelly Ann McPhee aka Audio Dynamyte, passed away during a performance of her one woman show God Has Truly Blessed Me. Right after she said, 'Take me home, for I am yours!', she suffered a fatal brain aneurysm. She was thirty-one and leaves behind her husband/manager Brady and her son Jamey."
(c) 2009 by GBMJr. All Rights Reserved

Stopped

It was two o'clock in the morning and two solitary stop signs, situated on opposite corners of a seldom used side street, are shooting the breeze.

"So this kid comes up with a spray can and sprays this ugly looking tag all over my face."
"What color was it?"
"Blue I think. At least it smelled like blue. Got it all up my nose and in my ears."
"That bites."
"Yeah. And you know what the worst part was?"
"No, what?"

A car full of teenagers were approaching at a high rate of speed when the driver suddenly realized that a stop sign was coming up fast. Burying the brakes, he jumped the curb and came to a rest on top of the stop sign. The drive got out, took a look at the stop sign, took a look around, then got back in the car and split the scene.

"Hank! Hank! Are you alright Hank?" asked Ted, who saw the whole thing and only was slightly concerned about his friend's well being.
"Ohhhh," groaned Hank. "That idiot pushed me over about five inches. My back is killing me."
"Besides that, you're okay?"
"Well..."Hank started to say, but Ted cut him off. Ted really didn't want to sound callous, but he was quite tired of listening to Hank blathering about himself.

"So long as you aren't permanently damaged, you'll survive. You know, this reminds me of the time when a truck jumped the curb and flattened me into the ground. He..."
"Who cares about that?" yelled Hank. "I'm really hurt here. He pushed me over ten inches."
"You said five a few minutes ago."
"I...I miscalculated." stammered Hank, who didn't like having his word questioned.
"Right."

Just then, another car came flying down the side of the road and clipped Hank. He got twisted one hundred eighty degrees and was pushed over sideways.
"Youch!!! I think my back is broken! Ted, they broke my back and I think I'm coming out of the ground!"
Ted didn't answer him. Instead, he said, "So anyways, this truck jumped the curb and landed square..."
"I don't care about that! I'm hurt over here!!"

"Don't be such a pansy," said Ted, who was getting mighty tired of Hank's lip. "A crew will be around later today to fix you up. If I was you, I would worry if someone completely took me out of the ground."
"What?! Take me out of the ground?" Hank was petrified about the thought of being replaced. Especially since that's how he arrived at the corner in the first place.
"Yeah, now wouldn't that be a tragedy of epic proportions." said Ted in a tone that sounded a bit too happy for Hank's comfort zone.

Before Hank could respond, a pickup truck full of yuppie jocks screeched to a halt in front of him. One of them got out and said, "Hey Brandon. I think this one would be perfect for the game room. What do you think?"
Brandon looked out the window and said, "Sure thing Cliff."
Cliff tied one end of a rope around Hank and tied the other end to a trailer hitch, before climbing back into the truck. Brandon dropped a couple of gears and burned rubber.

"Ted! Help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" screamed Hank as the truck pulled him out of the ground and bounced him down the road.
Ted watched Hank bounce and clang down the road. Grinning, he joyfully replied, "Good luck Ted! You'll make a great wall ornament!"

One week later, Ted met a similar fate when the town decided to put in a traffic light. He was unceremoniously yanked out of the ground, put up for sale on E-bay, and now unhappily spends his days hanging next to Hank in Brandon's game room, listening to Hank bloviate and his nights wishing he was recycled.

Original (c) 2009 by G.B. Miller with all rights reserved

The Tree

companion post here and here

The tree sighed heavily as it stretched its cranky branches as far as they could go so that it caught the morning sun. It knew that if it didn’t move its branches at the sun’s first glimpse, the mountain would look down on him with disdain and say once again, “See? See? That Methuselah has got to go! He’s long outlived his usefulness!”

In fact, it wasn’t that long ago that the mountain tried to do just that. The young buck conspired with Father Nature last winter and Father Nature obliged by sending into the valley an usually harsh snowstorm, the likes of which haven’t been seen in quite sometime.

The snowstorm and accompanying wind tried its best to take him out. Even though he lost a couple of branches here and there, his original owner’s son made sure that no other harm would happen to him. He came out on numerous occasions to brush away the heavy snow from his branches so that they wouldn’t break. He dug around the base so that he wouldn't freeze too much, and most importantly, he laid out some birdseed.

The tree was secretly overjoyed about the birdseed. For most of the past summer and fall, the owner’s son stopped putting out birdseed, which cause his feathered friends to stop visiting. This made the tree very sad, because without his feather friends to keep him company, his days and nights became very lonely.
But, as some of the other trees and plants would often say, hope springs eternal. So the tree began praying to Mother Nature, to ask her if she could give the owner’s son a little nudge to see if he could bring back his feathered friends. Mother Nature, already annoyed with Father Nature for doing an end around and the mountain for being such a self centered brat, said that she would try her very best to nudge things along.

Early one late winter day in which the weather was unusually warm, the owner’s son stepped out on the house to inspect the front yard. He took a couple of steps towards the tree and was very surprised to see a couple of squirrels bothering the tree. Annoyed, the owner’s son grabbed a couple of rocks and threw them at the squirrels. With pinpoint accuracy, the landed just in front of them, for the son didn’t want to harm them, but to simply make them stay away.

Later that week, the owner’s son planted a half dozen bird feeders in and around the old tree. After filling them up, the owner’s son gave the tree a couple of gentle taps on the trunk and said, “Give them a little time to adjust.”

So the tree did.

Every morning he stretched out his branches to catch the morning sun, while at the same time sending out a few S.O.S.’s that said, “Come back, you are truly wanted.” Of course no one heard his S.O.S.’s at first, since the tree had no leaves to speak off yet and no leaves means no S.O.S.’s to be heard.

But as winter turned into spring, something magical happened. The birds started returning at the exact same moment that the tree finally began to sprout leaves. At first only a couple would show up, but before long, as soon as the tree began to sprout more leaves, more of his feathered friends would stop by to visit and chew the fat.

Until finally, one glorious warm early summer day, all of his branches, as well as the front yard, were occupied by not only his wonderful feathered friends, but a few of his plant friends as well.
Life was indeed good, because the tree now knew that he had friends who cared about him very much, and those friends would help him outlast and out-duel the mountain, which if you really think about it, is all that a wizened tree can really ask for.

(c) 2013 by G.B. Miller; All Rights Reserved

The Muse Is Thy Master 3

Click here for part 1 and part 2


Stunned, the young lady grabs the handrail to steady herself as the realization that her ultimate play toy was turned on by similar looking play toys and not by play toys such as herself sank in. Once that realization snagged its talons in her soul and turns her from an overly sexualized society lady to the ugliest girl in the village, the young lady starts to cry. Not tears of sadness but tears of rage.

Rage over a public humiliation. Rage over being played for a fool. Rage for trusting her personal writer to do the right thing. With her rage sufficiently amped, she climbs the handrail and before the painter can intervene, executes a perfect swan dive off the veranda.

The sun playfully bounces off her skin and somehow the young lady briefly finds peace within her troubled spirit. However, being focused on the task at hand, the young lady pulverizes that sliver of peace and everything suddenly turns pitch black. Unable to see either forward or behind, the young lady pulls her arms in and goes into a major power dive.

The writer, happily oblivious to the pain that he's about to experience, is pounding the keyboard at such a furious pace that smoke is pouring out from the monitor and keyboard. Suddenly, his attention is diverted by three very large words that appear on his monitor.

LOOK BEHIND YOU.

The moment the young man turns around, his world is rocked by a deafening explosion and he's pelted by a plethora of debris. Within seconds the young man is buried up to his neck with organic and inorganic debris and dust.

When the dust finally settles, the young man sees the young lady standing some twenty feet away, breathing heavy with smoke billowing from her head. He tries to stick out his hand but the amount of debris has him snugly and safely entombed. Failing in that endeavor, he says in his chirpiest voice, "My favorite sparkly person! What is going on?"

The young lady doesn't respond right away. Instead, she snaps her fingers and raises her arms. Instantly, and much to the young man's disappointment, the young lady is now dressed in a slightly form fitting casual ensemble of b-ball sneakers, jeans, chain belt, blue flannel shirt and long-john top. She shakes her head for several seconds, then pulls out a scrunchy and puts her long carmel colored hair in a ponytail.

She steps forward and within a couple of minutes, methodically climbs the rather large twenty foot pile of debris until she hits the top and stares down at the young writer. Flashing an evil smile, she sits down and wraps her legs around the young man's head. Normally, the young man would be in heaven with the breathtaking view he was experiencing. However, in this particular instance, the young man simply closes his eyes and mumbles a silent prayer.

When he opens them after finishing his prayer, he finds himself staring into the young lady's belly button. He tries to look up, but an incredible weight keeps his head still. He tries to speak but a strong yet highly fragrant hand covers his mouth, and a voice soon bathes his ears with a few choice words.

"I thought when we'd last spoke," said the young lady as she stretched her arms for a minute. "That we had come to a mutual understanding of what needs you were to fulfill for me. I specifically stated that I wanted to be in something that was more in line with your early stuff, than what you were currently working on."

"But I did," said the young man emphatically.

The young lady clamps her hand over his mouth and says, "No, you didn't. You put me into a fairy tale setting that had the makings of an absolutely over the top unforgettable experience. And when I went to act on those feeling, you made my love interest a hot homosexual painter!"

The young man mumbled for a moment, and the young lady removed her hand. "Did you bother staying for the rest of the story?"

"I didn't need to. I saw what I needed to see," said the young lady defiantly.

"I figured as much," said the young man, who at this point had managed to wiggle a hand free. He sticks a finger in a belt loop and starts to pull on it.

The young lady suddenly finds herself losing her balance and with it, her grip on reality. "What are you doing?!" she yells.

"Trying to put you back into the story."

"Why would you want to do a stupid thing like that?"

"Because there's more...to...this...story...than...meets...your...sensual...eyes," answers the young man emphatically, as with a burst of strength, he pulls the young lady into a somersault.

The young lady goes into an unstoppable somersault and seconds later disappears into a small supernova. The young man takes a deep breath and spends the next several minutes plowing his way through the mountain of debris. When he finally breaks through, he walks around the pile and goes into the bedroom. A minute later, he reappears with pen and paper.

Opening the front door, he says, "Trust me on this. I promised you a story that would rock your world and I intend to keep my word. I'm going to the park, which should give you ample enough time to do whatever tantrum you want to throw."

(c) 2012 by G. B. Miller. All rights reserved and enforced

The Muse Is Thy Master 2

click here for part 1

"Milady? Milady?"

The young lady awakens to the sound of an elderly gentleman's voice bathing her ears with a softness that defies description. She looks around at her surrounding and finds to her surprise that she is no longer sitting on the beach.

"Milady? Milady?"

Instead, she finds herself laying on a soft grassy knoll surrounded by waves of wildflowers. She also finds to her surprise that she's completely nude.

"I'll be damned. That little peon stuck me somewhere in the past," says the young lady to herself.

'I strongly suggest you answer your footman, as he's turning a major shade of red.'

The young lady momentarily narrows her eyes, then in her chirpiest voice says, "Yes?"

The footman quickly faces the other direction and says, "Milady,  you wanted me to remind you when yo had a half hour left to your sunbath."

"Thank you...um..."

"Gerald, milady," answers the footman.

"Thank you, Gerald," says the young lady as she sits up.

"Will there be anything else, milady?"

The young lady looks around for a moment, then asks, "Clothes?"

Gerald points to a rock some twenty feet away and says, "Over there, milady."

"Thank you again, Gerald. That will be all."

"As you wish, milady," says Gerald as he walks slowly back to the carriage.

The young lady waits until Gerald is out of sight, then collapses back on the grassy knoll and happily rolls herself into the bank of wildflowers. When she sits up some several minutes later, her hair is completely festooned with brightly colored wildflowers. She crawls over to the rock and starts going through her clothes. A minute later, she pulls out a small handheld mirror and crawls back to the grassy knoll.

When she looks into it, the mirror jumps out of her hand and impales itself in the ground. The young lady squats to pick it up, but the mirror takes root and rapidly grows into a full length mirror made of dark cypress and edged with honeysuckle.

Taken aback, the young lady peers around the back side and spies a rather large snow white owl. The owl hisses its displeasure at being looked at, and quickly takes flight. It zooms so close to the young lady that she is momentarily knocked from her feet. Before she can touch the ground, a honeysuckle vine shoots out and wraps itself around her toned stomach to keep her upright.

A peaceful feeling comes over the young lady as the honeysuckle vine pulsates vibes through its leaves and coats her skin with an intoxicating scent. A few minutes later, a soft whistle breaks through her psychedelic haze and the young lady suddenly finds herself not on the grassy knoll, but on the veranda of a medium sized English country house.

She starts to walk around but a sharp voice from behind stops her cold.

"Please don't move. The sun is finally in the perfect position for me to paint."

The young lady turns around and finds herself staring into a pair of the darkest hazel eyes she's ever seen. For the next minute, her heart literally melts as those eyes carefully and passionately bore a hole straight into her heart. A snap of the fingers makes her blink and when she refocuses again, the painter's muscular physique comes to the forefront and brings her to her knees.

A yearning to be hungrily ravished slowly comes over the young lady, and every key component of her body becomes so overly sensitive that if the painter exhaled in her direction, the result would be orgasmic.

With her heart racing and her body aching to be touched, the young lady slowly walks towards the painter. When he turns around to pick up his palette, she is right there in front of him. He sighs for a moment and waits for her to make the first move. When she touches his cheek, he holds it there for several seconds, then removes it and sensually kisses her fingers.

He stands up and walks her back to the railing. Caressing her cheek for a moment, he clears his throat and takes a couple of steps backwards.

"If I was that kind of man, I would give you such a day of passion that I daresay would take you forever to recover from. However milady, I am not that kind of man. I do keep my body in superior condition for my lover, and not only does he appreciate it, but so do the other discreet members of the same circle that milady travels in. Which is why my nudes are of the highest quality and of the highest demand on the continent."

To be continued...

(c) 2012 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved.

The Muse Is Thy Master

The young lady spends several minutes walking along the beach, zig zagging this way and that, before finding what she feels to be the perfect spot to relax and get in touch with her inner self. She plops the chair at the edge of the shoreline and carefully sits down. She quickly unties her braid and after spending a few seconds shaking it loose, stretches out her legs, drops her shades and allows the ocean spray to caress her body and ticker her spirit.

As the spray coats her carmel skin, the sun beats down to gently break down her resistance and before long, she is dropping the back of the chair to full embrace the sun God.

A young man, dressed in bermuda shorts and down nip bottles of tequila, is staggering down the beach. Oblivious to his surroundings, he starts singing a few dirty songs at the top of his lungs, and a few minutes later spies a delectable looking woman about one hundred yards just off to his left.

With a spring in his step, he quickens his pace and in no time at all is standing next to what had t be the hottest looking babe he's ever seen. With the incessant hammer of "booty call" permeating his brain, he sits down next to the babe and taps her on the shoulder.

She turns and to his horror he recognizes her. Almost instantly he starts blubbering, but she quickly puts a finger to a his mouth. Flashing a ambiguous smile, she delivers a vicious open hand slap that sends him tumbling head over heels.

It takes him a few seconds to recover and when he does, he sees the young lady tapping his recently vacated spot. Reluctantly, he crawls back and gingerly takes a seat. He turns to speak but is instantly removed with another vicious slap to the head. Again after coming around, he reluctantly crawls back and sits down.

He turns to speak but thinks better of it and instead holds his tongue.

"I'm not happy with you," says the young lady in a voice dripping with anger.

"What do you mean?"

"Excuse me?" says the young lady as she sits up.

"Let me rephrase that. Why aren't you happy? You're working again, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I expected to be used in the same vein as your other stories. Not like this."

"Like what?"

She grabs hold of his neck and forcibly shoves him down in her lap. Squeezing his face, she repeats, "Not like this."

The young man looks and is horrified by what he sees staring back at him. Gulping hard, he reaches up to touch her face, but she grabs his wrist. Flashing a tight smile, she bends his wrist back while pulling him up at the same time.

She stares at him for a moment, then quietly asks, "What are you going to do about it?"

"About it?"

"Yes. What are you going to do about it?"

The young man pauses for a moment, then spins around until he is standing behind her. He gently removes her hand from his wrist, then kneels down and whispers, "Not a damn thing."

She turns around, locks eyes and says, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You needed to get back to work and I needed to write, so this is the best of both worlds. I have a story that is chomping at the bit and oozing out of my pen, and you have a starring role in it. What more could you ask for?"

She reaches up and embraces him. Caught off-guard, he goes to return the favor but suddenly finds himself being flipped over onto his ass. Before he can respond, the young lady tightens her grip and nuzzles his ear for a moment. After giving it a light nibble, which unnerved the young man, she answers his question.

"I could ask for respect. I could ask for to be treated in the manner that I'm accustomed to and deserve. I could ask for a story that better suits my talents." After that last sentence, the young lady stands up, drops the young man in the surf before sitting down and pinning his shoulders with her knees.

With the water crashing the beach at leisurely intervals, the young lady unties her bikini top and arches her back for a moment, before readjusting her position. She sits cross-legged in such a way that the young man's head is now resting semi-comfortably in her lap. For the next couple of minutes not a word is exchanged. The young lady, using the young man's waist as a prop, is busy taking an impromptu sunbath, while the young man, with a view that most others would die for, tries to wait out the impending shit storm that he finds himself in.

The young lady finally sits up, and after shaking some of the water off, puts her bikini top back on. She stretches out her legs for a moment, then stands up and returns to her chair. The young man waits for a minute, before getting up and walking over to the young lady. Squatting in front of her, he moves a few strands of hair out of her face and gives her a light kiss on the cheek.

She quietly nuzzles his face and gives him a light one as well. Smiling, he takes a seat next to her and for the next few minutes stares out at the horizon, letting the warm breeze and cool spray bathe his spirit. Eventually he comes to a decision, so after squeezing her neck for a moment, leans in and says very quietly, "I'll see what I can do."

She doesn't say anything but gives his thigh a gentle squeeze, before clearing her throat and shooing him away. the young man takes his leave and within a few minutes, disappears from the beach, leaving behind a thoroughly contented muse, who drops the back of her chair to work on her tan and gradually falls asleep.

When she wakes up.......

(c) 2012 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved

A Very Short Excerpt

click here to go back to the original post

The inspiration for my latest writing project "Time To Go" was unfortunately found while I was channel surfing earlier this year on Direct TV. The channel in question was called "Audience" and it was sponsored by the Smithsonian. The movie in question was from Australia, but I don't remember the title. All I remember was a one minute scene in which a criminal confronted a woman who stopped by at his apartment about whether she had talked to the police. He moved over to where she was sitting, brushed her hair out of her face, then covered her nose and mouth with his hand. That one scene managed to stick with me for the past four or five months, until around mid July, when I decided to write a story using that method of dispatching someone to the hereafter. As of the date of this post, I have fifteen pages and a shade over 9K words written

My friends, here are the opening paragraphs to my latest short story "Time To Go".

I took a couple of hard sniffs, and after chewing back the vomit so I wouldn't asphyxiate, I knew it was time to go. You would think that after experiencing twenty-three straight days of pure hell, I would long be used to the smell by now. But I wasn't. In fact, after twenty-three days, my sense of smell was so amped up that I could tell whether or not a mosquito was draining blood from a human or an animal.

It really didn't matter much to me that I was being abused. So long as the two gorillas were satisfied in using my body as a punching bag and a deformed sex toy, I was happy. I was happy that Davy, in his own sick way, really liked me. Or obsessed over me. I don't remember which anymore. After twenty-three days, I was just happy that I didn't join my friend Angela on the most frightening trip of her short life.

Patience Is A Sin

click here for companion post

"I really hate doing this."
"I know you do, but we really need the money."
"Isn't there another way of getting the money?"
"Absolutely."
Me thought about it for a moment, and said, "No."
"I thought so. I'll run interference with our lap dog Jacques while you get yourself dolled up. And remember, I do love you," said James as he gave her a gentle peck on the lips.

Sighing, Mel got out of the truck while James went to take care of Jacques. She took off her clothes and pu on the outfit that Jacques had thoughtfully sent over earlier in the week. Shivering with pleasure from a sudden gust of wind that blew up her dress, she finished putting on the last of her makeup before undoing her braids. she took out a pocket hair dryer and spent the next few minutes blowing out her dark auburn hair.

By the time she'd finished, she saw that James was waving her over. Sighing yet again, Mel chucked the dryer through the truck window, popped on her windbreaker, grabbed her purse and walked over to where James and company were waiting.

"Ah, my lovely and talented Melodious! I'm so glad that you decided to grace us with your presence today," said Jacques as he did an exaggerated bow.
Mel handed James her purse and said, "Grow up. Look at what you got me wearing today."
Jacques gave her the once over and asked, "What's the problem?"
"What's the problem? You know what I usually wear at these shoots, and this ain't it."
"Believe me, for this shoot, what you got on is more than enough."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. See those piles of rocks by the cliff? If you take a casual stroll over to them, you'll find your leading man Bryon. Now shoo."

Sighing yet again, Mel walked over to where Bryon was hanging ten at. As she got closer, she was able to see that Bryon was the kind of guy that the girls would fight over: tall, muscular, and very good looking.
"This should be interesting. Wonder what the size is?" she said to herself.
When she got there, Mel stuck out her hand and said, "Hi! I'm Mel."
Bryon shook her hand and said, "I'm Bryon. It's an honor to me you."
"Really?" answered Mel as she took out a compact to check her makeup. "Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we. Excuse me for a minute."

Mel spotted one of the crew members holding a megaphone. She snatched it from him and said, "Jacques! Front and center!"
Jacques came strolling up to the shot and said, "Yes?"
"What did you tell that guy about me?"
Jacques fidgeted nervously before answering. "Only good things, I swear!"
"You better." Mel looked around at the rest of the shot and asked, "Am I in charge out there with Bryon?"
"Yes, but I don't think--"
Mel cut him off. "That's right, you don't think. If you did, I wouldn't be here."
The second those words left her mouth, Mel knew that she'd crossed the line. Moving in so that no one esle could hear, she whispered a few choice words, which quickly lifted Jacques spirits.

Giving James a dirty look, she walked back to where Bryon was patiently waiting for her. Holding up her finger, Mel said, "Give me a minute to get ready. Do you know what you want to do? If so, just play off what I do. If not, well, you'll figure it out soon enough."

Byron nodded and said, "Yes, I do."

Mel smiled and took off her windbreaker. Jaws around the set immediately dropped as they got a good view of what she was wearing: a light see through floral print dress that minimally covered what Satan had graced her with. The dress perfectly complimented her dark auburn hair and cherry red lipstick.

Squeezing her breasts, she asked Bryon, "You like?"

Bryon nodded in agreement. Mel smiled and licked her fingertips before partially unbuttoning her dress and pinching her nipples for several seconds. Exhaling, she struck a provocative pose next to Bryon.

Blowing in his ear, she asked, "Are you ready?"
To which he only nodded, "Yes."
"Alright then." Turning to the crew, she said, "Whenever you're ready!"
Someone yelled, "Action!" and action is what Mel did and what Bryon didn't.

For her part, Mel struck various erotic and semi-explicit poses around Bryon. She knelt down in front of him stroking his groin and admiring his physique; knelt down in front of him looking up with innocent eyes and jiggling breasts; bending over in front of him to pretending to pick flowers and show him a full sensuous moon; stretching; the casual opening of the dress at the waist and raising her dress up six inches as an edible teaser.

As for Bryon, he was simply star struck. He basically followed her around with huge puppy dog eyes and drooling mouth, so mesmerized by her every move that he largely forgot what he was supposed to do.

Before Jacques could yell Cut!, Mel did, although not with words but with a slice across the throat. She had Bryon take a seat on the rocks and out of earshot before turning her attention back to Jacques.

When she'd grabbed him by the collar, the crew saw a bright reddish-orange halo suddenly encase her body. At that very instant, the crew broke ranks and scattered. A newbie who didn't know about Mel's incendiary temper didn't scatter with the rest, so when Mel walked by with Jacques in tow, he got turned to charcoal.

Mel threw him down to the ground and said, "Motherfucker! Let me see that contract! So help me, if its one of those stupid farmer-in-the-dell type fantasy deals, I'll fry you right where you stand!"
Jacques crawled over to Mel and began groveling. "Melodious, please! I was desperate for work! Ever since you left, nobody would work with me on anything that mattered! I was down to shooting pictorials for lad magazines for Christ's sake!"

"Don't use that word in my presence!" she snapped.

Jacques went wide eyed but still continued to grovel. "Melodious, I needed you so bad that I was willing to do anything to get you to come back!"
"Even lying? You lied to me Jacques. How could you lie to me?"
"I'm sorry, but you got to understand, I was desperate! Look, you can still do the shoot your way!"

In her anger, Mel had totally forgot that she was in charge out there on the set. Flashing Jacques an evil smile, she said, "Absolutely. Get back to that camera and we'll finish the shoot."

The crew waited until Jacques threw them a 'get your motherfucking ass moving before she changes her mind' look. They quickly shifted into overdrive and got things ready in less than three minutes.

Mel walked over to where Bryon was still sitting and said, "Sorry about that. A few certain particulars weren't told to me prior to the start of the shoot. Could you briefly tell me what this is all about?"
"Sure. A rugged farmer working the land with his best girl by his side."
"I'm gonna fry that frog's ass when this shoot is over!" she said to herself. To Bryon, she said, "Okay, farmer working the land. So what I did earlier was acceptable to you, right?"
"Sure it was fine. Got me a little excited too."

Mel tapped his cheek a couple of times and said, "Well big boy, that was the main idea. For this next scene, how about we do the dinner table? You know, I serve you a huge plate of food grown from the efforts of your labor. Does that work for you?"
"Does it ever!"
"That's my boy. Give me a coupe of minutes to get things ready on the set," said Mel as she gave Bryon's ass a hard squeeze and a sensual kiss on the mouth.

A couple of minutes later, a typical farmhouse dinner table was created and primed for action. Mel had Bryon sit at the head of the table, with various members of the crew playing the parts of farmhands sitting on either side. Mel picked up a large plate of food and waited for her cue.

Jacques again yelled, "Action!" and action is what Mel and Bryon did.

Mel served the plate of food to Bryon. She leaned over until Bryon was distracted by her perfectly shapped and unrestrained breasts, before flashing her teeth and with the speed of a cobra, buried them deep into the side of his neck. Within the span of fifteen seconds she had taken a half pint from a dazed Bryon.

The rest of the crew quickly took over the second Mel withdrew, and within fifteen minutes all that was left of farmer Bryon was a small pile of bones.

Wiping the blood from her lips, Mel quickly changed backed into her regular clothes and walked over to where Jacques and James were reviewing the final scene.

Grabbing Jacques by the neck, she said very quietly, "If you ever, and I mean ever, lie to me again, I will make you a slave to the lowliest disgusting pig that passes for a crew member here. Do I make myself understood on this point?"

Jacques shook his head, so Mel said, "Good. In the meantime, I think that you need to go on a short vacation."

Before he could respond, Mel snapped her fingers and two very large and very ugly minions appeared at his side. Each took a firm grip of his arms, then just as quick, disappeared with their quarry when the ground opened and swallowed them whole.

Mel then turned her attention to James. Because he knew what was coming, he sat down on the ground and lowered his head. A few seconds later, a monstrous bolt of lightning struck the set and obliterate all traces within a one mile radius.

When the authorities came to investigate the multitude of phone calls about a large explosion, all they were able to find was a warm floral print dress, a smoldering pile of charcoal and a small pile of freshly gnawed bones.

originally (c) 2009 by GBMJr under the title "A Study In Character". Rewritten and (c) 2011 by GBMJr. All rights reserved

The Muse Is Mecurial

please click here for part 1

Standing on a rocky ledge overlooking a rain drenched valley, a lone figure on horseback raises her staff to the heavens and implores the rain gods to show mercy on the misguided village nestled deep within that valley. An intense lightning bolt buries itself a few feet from the battle weary steed and briefly illuminates her mistress.

She is of average height and lithe, with a burnt umber skin tone and a face decorated with intricately designed tattoos. The strong breeze blows open her robe to reveal fitted armour covered with studs and spikes, and still more intricately designed tattoos covering her exposed skin. The same breeze catches the underside of her hair and even though the rain is thoroughly drenching the ledge, her hair flows cleanly and burns brightly in the darkened sky.

She stands in the stirrups and unsheathes a thick seven inch knife dripping with blood and also raises that to the heaves. Another bolt of lightning is hurled from the heavens and strikes the tip of the staff. It quickly jumps to the knife tip and creates a fiery blue arc of death. A few seconds later it jumps again and knocks the lone figure off her battle weary steed.

Enraged by this brazen act of insolence, she flings her knife to the heavens. She waits for a minute or two, before coming to the realization that her plea had fallen on deaf ears.

Crestfallen, she grabs her knife and jumps back on her battle weary steed and gently presses her heels into her flanks. Giving the mare a couple of gentle pats on the neck, she takes hold of the bridle and allows the mare to carefully pick its way down from the rocky ledge and towards the valley.

Just before they disappear into the rain soaked forest, she stands in the stirrups and throws off her robe. She then undos the buckles holding her armor in place and throws that off as well. Nearly naked and with the cold wind causing her tattoos to surface, she again draws her knife, but instead of raising it to the heavens with staff, she slices each forearm and waits for the blood to run down to her hands.

She takes a deep breath before raising the bloody knife and staff to the heavens. As the blood runs down her arms and into her face, she urges her battle weary steed onward through the trees and hopefully to a village that was shown a modicum of mercy by the rain gods.

(c) 2011 by GBMJr. All rights reserved

Preacher

Click here for companion post


The preacher takes a long hard drag from his whiskey flavored cigar and as he holds in the tangy pungent flavor until it worms its way through his nervous system, he thoughtfully studies the dying ember of the tip. About a minute later, he sticks the cigar back into his mouth and goes back to writing his sermon on the evils of masturbation. Before he could generate a few more vivid images to torture his congregation with, a sharp poke in his leg cause him to look up.

"No."

She sits down in his lap and drapes his arms across his muscular shoulders. Grabbing the cigar out of his mouth, she chews it down and a few seconds later, regurgitates and starts puffing away.

"I said no, and I mean it. I have a sermon to write on the evils of masturbation and I don't have time to watch your latest confession either."

She spat out the cigar, grabbed his notepad and after glancing through the contents, set it on fire by giving it a sensuous kiss. More than satisfied, she hands the burning notepad back to the preacher and gives him the type of grin that would cause his congregation to collectively unzip.

"This is unacceptable. I don't ask for a lot you know. A day off once every two weeks isn't highly unreasonable you know. Neither is tending to the needs of my congregation on a monthly basis. For all that, I do what you want, when you want it, with no questions asked."

Taken aback by his sharp tone, she bites her bottom lip and start to make a pouty face.

"And I won't have any of those crocodile tears either. Honestly woman, I do have an involuntary job that needs to be fulfilled. Just because my congregation isn't quite as spiritual as you claim to be, they still need my guidance. So please, get your shapely and sensuous body out of my lap and let me do what I was brought down here to do."

Narrowing her eyes, she readjusts her weight until she's sitting on his chest and has her knees holding his head firmly in place. She then spends another minute or so in quiet exploration of her body while the preacher tries not to explore with his eyes what's hidden to everyone else.

Gradually she crosses the finish line and the only outward sign that anyone really sees that might give a hint as to what kind of internal play was going on was the preacher grabbing two handfuls of poison sumac.

"Done?"

She briefly runs her hands through her hair before slowly stretching out her arms. After cracking her knuckles a couple of times, she readjusts her position and sits cross-legged on the preacher's lap. Pursing her lips, she shakes her head a couple of times, before taking his hand and tenderly kisses and sucks on his fingers.

"The answer is still no."

(c) 2011 by GBMJr. All rights reserved

When A Young Man's Fancy Turns To USDA Prime T & A

Perry was walking down one of the crowded corridors at the mall when he spotted Todd waving at him. Changing direction, he soon popped up where Todd was holding court at. Performing his trademark fist punch handshake, Perry took a seat next to Todd and unzipped his hoody.

"What is up my man?" asked Perry.

"Man, you would not believe the amount of fresh meat that is out and about at the mall today. I mean, there is some prime tender sweet young things flashing their wares for everyone to sample."

"Man, don't I know it. Can you believe the size of some of those tits that are being showcased today? I swear that it must be something in the food that makes them grow so fuckin' big that you can't help but stare at them, hard."

"Yeah, and can you believe how bullet erect some of them are? I mean, the t-shirts they're wearing just barely protects them. Thank God that wearing bras is not bad fashion statement anymore."

"Yup. And can you believe the amount of cleavage that some of this fine ladies have? I've been spending a better part of a half hour just walking around the upper level and looking down at the babes on the first floor. Man, what I wouldn't give to drop a few ice cubes down their shirts for an impromptu wet shirt contest."

Todd took a sip of his coffee and stuck out his hand as a hot looking babe came walking by. She moved a few steps over to the left and quickened her pace. Shrugging, he reached in between the cushions and pulled out a small hand mirror and spent the next minute gazing in the mirror and drooling at the hot babe until she disappeared into a ladies clothing boutique. Sighing hard, he put the mirror away and took another sip of his coffee.

"Some fine looking ass out there as well. So soft and sensuous, the tight jeans they're wearing just accentuates that booty to the point where you just want to touch and fondle it."

"Absolutely. The younger the ass, the better. Can you believe the ass on some of these fine looking young ladies? Good lord, I just want to spank the crap out of them until they squeal for mercy."

Todd and Perry both fell silent as they spent the next several minutes watching the mall reality show "Fresh Springtime Pussy On Parade."

Perry looked at his cell phone to check the time. Pursing his lips, he said, "Hey dude, watching all of these fine honeys walking by almost made me forget that I'm running late for work. So if there isn't anything else floating around in the nasty little brain of yours, I gotta jet."

Todd took a look at his cell phone as well, and said, "Yeah, I might as well get going too. My lunch break is about over. So where you hanging out today, Mr. Mall Security Officer?"

"Outside one of those trendy lingerie stores. Apparently one of those D-list celebs from the adult movie world has a meet and greet with her fans today, so they're expecting a huge crowd of drooling guys. You?"

"Unfortunately, I get to look at the world through my little Jeep Waggoner today, as I'm doing parking lot and perimeter patrol today."

"That sucks. Well, at least you were able to enjoy a little bit of spring time action indoors for a change, right?"

Todd smiled for a brief moment, and said, "Absolutely."

Amigos Con Las Ventajas

please click here to read part one of this post.

Jennifer had just gotten herself situated on the couch for a dull night of t.v. viewing when the main entrance buzzer went off. Sighing, she turned off the t.v. and pressed the talk button on the intercom.
“Who is it?”
“Bobby.”
“Isn’t it kind of late for you to be here?”
“I guess. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”

Jennifer pressed another button and a couple of minutes later, heard a knock on her front door. She got up and walked over to answer it. Along the way, she undid a couple of buttons and finger combed her hair. Satisfied with her appearance, she opened the door and standing in front of her was a rather glum looking Bobby.

“What’s wrong?”
“I got into another argument with Jill. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Jennifer opened the door the rest of the way and watched as Bobby gave her a peck on the cheek, before walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. Sighing, she closed the door and went into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers.

Handing a bottle to Bobby, she then took a seat in the lounge chair and popped open hers. Taking a long swig, she pointed at him and asked, “So what did you fight about this time?”
Bobby took a long swig from his bottle, leaned back and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

Jennifer got up and walked over to the couch. Taking up a spot behind him, she began to tenderly massage his neck and shoulders.
“Bobby, what did you fight about this time?” she asked again, this time in a more soothing tone.
For the longest time, Bobby remained silent. The reason why he remained silent had to do with the fact that he didn’t know how to tell Jennifer that the fight he had with Jill was about his close friendship with her.

For the past twenty years Bobby and Jennifer were about as close to one another as two people could get without become lovers or spouses. Theirs was a friendship that knew no bounds and quite often took precedence over whatever normal relationship they had going on at the time.

Jennifer could feel that Bobby was incredibly tense and nervous, and he only got like that when the topic of choice was her. She knelt down and said, “It was about me, wasn’t it?”
Bobby took another swig and answered, “Yeah.”
“Why did you tell her about us? Especially so early in your relationship.”
“She’s into that whole honesty thing, so I thought--"
“So you thought you would tell her about your friendship with me.”
“Well…yeah.”
Jennifer gave him a peck on the cheek, before standing up and walking around to the coffee table. Moving his feet, she sat down on the coffee table and unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way.
“So my good friend, what can I do to put you back in the proper frame of mind that you need to be in so that you can work things out with Jill?” asked Jennifer, who after unbuttoning her shirt had peeled it off and tossed it to the side.

“I don’t know. I really want to make this relationship with Jill work, but she’s such a freakin’ ice queen.”
“Does her being an ice queen make her jealous about me and insecure about herself?”
“Yeah.”
“So…what do you need from me?” asked Jennifer, who was now straddling his lap.
“Understanding.”
“You’ll always get that from me.”
“True,” said Bobby, who just realized that Jennifer was sitting on his lap and making googly eyes at him.

Giving her a rather sad smile, he said, “Listen, I think its about time we looked into taking care of your needs tonight for a change. I heard through the grapevine that new boy toy of yours is giving you a world of grief.”
A sad smile briefly appeared on her face and Bobby knew right away that tonight was going to be about comforting a close friend.
“What kind of grief is your new boy toy putting you through?”
Jennifer leaned back, sighed heavily, and said, “This boy has spent the past couple of years living a sheltered life, and because of it, has some incredibly old fashioned ideas about dating.”
“Like?”
“Celibacy.”
“Celibacy?”
“Celibacy.”
“Celibacy. Which means…”
“Which means I haven’t gotten any in the past couple of months.”
“So you need?”
Jennifer leaned in, gave Bobby a passionate kiss, and said, “I need to feel something.”
“Something?”
“Something. Anything. A little. A lot. It don’t matter at this point. I just need to be.”

Bobby unsnapped her bra and took it off, then Jennifer helped him out his shirt. She then accepted his outstretched hands and snuggled up in his warm muscular body. For the next couple of minutes, they stayed in that embrace, each enjoying the other’s warm body on themselves.

“Anything in particular you want to do next?” asked Bobby, who’d started running his fingers lightly all over Jennifer’s back.
Biting her lip, she answered, “Inside.”
“Seriously?”
“I told you, I haven’t gotten any in the past couple of months….oh man, don’t stop that feathering.”
“I don’t know…the one thing about our friendship that’s been a constant is that I don’t go inside of you like that.”
“I know, but I really need to feel that inside tonight. Look, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll be in charge. You just sit there and be your adorable muscular self.”
“Well…”
She gave his neck a little nibble and said, “Bobs.”
It was the rare occasion that Jennifer would call him by the nickname from their childhood, because that meant she really wanted something personal from him. Giving her head a kiss, he said, “Okay.”

Jennifer sat up and moved back to the coffee table. She then unbuttoned and unzipped Bobby’s jeans and lowered them until they were at his ankles. She then undid hers, pulled out his rod and spent the next couple of minutes stroking it to hardness. Once she got it to where she wanted it, she took off her jeans and climbed back on. She straddled his waist, took hold of his rod and carefully worked it in.

Once she had it in, she readjusted her position and using a slow hip thrust, began riding Bobby into oblivion. True to her word, she did all the work and Bobby simply laid there being his adorable muscular self. All he really did, besides enjoying her gentle hip thrusts, was to make sure that her soft squishy chest was satisfied as well.

Several minutes later, Jennifer took hold of Bobby’s shoulders and did one last squat. Bobby held her in that position as the painful sensation he was getting told him it was time to let loose. Locking eyes, they quickly moved to locking lips as each one blew their load into the other.

When the spasms finally subsided, Jennifer carefully pulled him out and stood up on wobbly legs. After flexing them for a minute or two, she sat on his lap cross-legged and whispered, “I can’t tell how much this really means to me, but if you come back tomorrow, I’ll give you a couple of pointers on how you can fix things up with Jill.”
Bobby brushed a few strands of hair out her eyes and said, “Will do. I’m glad that you’re feeling better. I better get going, because I’m gonna need to find a place to crash tonight.”
“Do you want to crash here tonight? I can dig out a couple of blankets and a pillow.”
“You sure? I don’t want to be an imposition if you got plans tomorrow.”
“No imposition. After all, that’s what friends are for. You did a big favor for me, the very least I can do is partially return it by letting you crash here tonight. Besides,” Jennifer paused to give him a sloppy kiss. “I can give you a few pointers tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

Bobby smiled, and as he watched Jennifer walk towards the bedroom to retrieve the blankets and pillows wth her tight ass gently swaying as she walked, thought about how truly special their friendship was, and said, “I am indeed living the good life.”

(c) 2011 by GBMJr. All rights reserved

Purrrfect!

Sometimes when I find myself by necessity in between writing projects, I try to keep my creative brain cells from atrophying by mentally working on my descriptive scenes. It's pretty easy to do, considering some of the mundane things I have to do in order to keep myself functioning in this world. At least that's what I tell my compadre from time to time.

Have you had the chance to meet my compadre yet? No? Well, let me tell you about my compadre.

She is a few inches taller than me, lithe, yet ruggedly built from a lifetime spent working and living in the mountains. When you see her galloping down the mountainside on her chestnut mare, with her waist length red hair trailing behind like a fiery comet and the sun expertly accentuating the hint of mushroom that is her skin, your jaw will simply drop in amazement.

Your heart starts to skip a beat as the mountain scent grows stronger and threatens to overload your senses, but just as quick it leaps into your throat the second she comes crashing to a halt in front of you.

She leaps off her horse and gives her minion a hard shove to the ground. She quickly follows that up by placing her boot on his throat and throwing a hairbrush at him. As he's reaching for the brush, she suddenly flips to hunter's mode and drops a hard punch to his stomach. Satisfied that he wasn't going to move anytime soon, she walks over to her quarry.

Damn! I hate it when she does that to me. I wish she would have a little faith in me. Jesus Christ almighty, I think she cracked a rib. Anyways, as you can see, my compadre is dressed to kill: her fiery red hair compliments the almost skin tight black leather outfit which expertly accentuates her weaponry; her lipstick and fingernail polish the bloodiest red you'll ever see in your lifetime and the brilliance of the sun being so heavily concentrated in her diamond nose stud that to focus directly on it invites your optic nerves to be fried away.

You quickly start to walk backwards because you are positively convinced that to hang around would cause a permanent change in your genetic code for decades to come. She starts to walk faster towards you and you suddenly freeze in your tracks because you inadvertently looked into her eyes and caught a glimpse of what your short future as a human being on this planet was going to look like.

Before you realize it, she has grabbed your face and the only thing you can see are those two tiny black eyes and a forked tongue lightly flicking at your cheek. Suddenly, she crinkles her nose and frowns. Pursing her lips, she gives your face a couple of hard taps, throws you a smile that causes you to wince in pain and snaps her fingers.

You discover that you can move your feet, so the second she turns her head, you split the scene. In the meantime, she's already focused on her next victim....

"Holy Shit! Oh man, I didn't do nothing! Go pick on someone else for a change!"

In a matter of moments she is on top of her minion delivering blistering slaps to his face and head. Sufficiently stunned, he offers no resistance as she grabs him by the shirt collar and jerks him to his feet. She stares deep into his eyes until the smell of human flesh brings him around.

"Stop frying my brain cells! I need those to function! Without those I am nothing but a piece of meat to you!"

Next thing I know, she draws me closer, flicks her tongue a couple of times and raises an eyebrow. I sigh heavily and reluctantly unbutton her vest and shirt. Unlike before, I only open them far enough until I see cleavage. I stare at the valley that gave me so much pleasure early on in my friendship but now only gives pain and heartache until I get a pounding headache.

I tap the left side of my neck a couple of times and tilt my head. She gives my chin just the lightest of flicks, before opening her mouth and flashing those razor sharp pearly whites of hers. I grab hold of her waist for added support and as I start to lose consciousness I can feel her readjusting her bite so as to get a better flow, and I say to myself, "She is one hot frenemy."

(c)2010 by GBMJr. All rights reserved

A Short Story

Isiah redirected his swing the second he caught sight of the tiny little sparrow landing on the tree spike and his momentum sent him tumbling head over heels where he promptly landed on his back. Ignoring the pain, he shot straight up and did a complete three sixty looking for her.

With nothing jumping out save the mournful rustling of the trees, Isiah crawled over to the tree to where the tiny little sparrow was resting. Clearing away a small pile of leaves, he sat down in front of the sparrow and cleared his throat to get its attention.

"Why art thou's mistress coming here? I hath not trespassed on her lands. Please little sparrow, tell thou's mistress that I am but a loyal subject without any aspirations of deviltry to speak of."

Before the tiny little sparrow could respond, the ground shook and Isiah suddenly found himself in the middle of a stampede of wild horses. Cowering in fear, he also held onto the tree so that he might survive the terrible onslaught. When the pounding of the hooves finally faded away, Isiah was left with a fantastic headache an a inability to stop his screaming.

Unable to stop his screaming and with the salty taste of blood in his mouth, Isiah could only watch as the tiny little sparrow took flight and came to land on his cheek. Digging his claws into Isiah's chin, the tiny little sparrow took a couple of sniffs, then dipped its beak in and began drinking his fill.

Exactly one minute later, the little sparrow finished its drink, ruffled its feathers like it was trying to get rid of a bad taste, then spread its wings and took flight to the heavens.

Seconds later, a thunderous boom roared through the forest, stripping the tree branches clean and laying wasted to the surrounding vegetation. When it reached Isiah it seemed to pause for a moment, as if it was unsure whether or not it should do the same thing. In the end, it left behind a small protective bubble that encased Isiah from head to toe.

Still unable to stop screaming, Isiah again watched in horror as the thunderous boom continued to lay wasted and obliterate the surrounding forest of all vegetation and animal life in all of is gruesome glory. Suddenly, everything went supernova and the force of the explosion blew Isiah from the tree and sent him flying through the forest.

A pile of freshly harvested pine saplings mercifully brought both his journey and his screaming to an abrupt halt. Slowly turning onto his stomach, Isiah inhaled the clean piny aroma and wondered what was going to happen next.

He didn't have too long of a wait as everything in his field of vision once again went supernova. He started to scream again from the intense pain of the blinding light, but an invisible hand clamped his mouth and turned him over. He struggled against the hand but quickly stopped when he saw the fiery orange eyes and the blackened snakes of the one entity he feared the most.

Kenya.

A raven haired beauty with a complexion that was darker than a starless night, Isiah recoiled in fear when she leaned in and began to flick her snake-like tongue around his face so as to full embrace his scent.

When she'd finished some thirty seconds later, she released her grip and spoke in a tone that hid how truly upset she was.

"Isiah, why are you harvesting in my forest without my permission?"

Swallowing hard, he answered, "Milady, thou art wrong about thou's subject harvesting without permission. Thy subject was simply cutting wood for thy family."

"Yes, but you were cutting live wood. Their mournful cries of pain caused me such sorrow that I immediately set out to find that disloyal subject who was hurting my beloved trees."

"But milady, I--"

"Silence! You were supposed to only cut and gather wood that was bereft of life, not cut and gather wood that was still alive."

"But--"

"Silence! For your wanton destruction of a living thing and for destroying my beloved forest's inner chi, you shall pay the ultimate price."

Kenya pulled Isiah upright and held him in place until his feet were encompassed by Mother Earth. She then took a couple of steps back, snapped her fingers and in that very instant, Isiah realized to the horror of the rest of his short human life, what that ultimate punishment was going to be.

As the final batch of leaves covered Isiah's face and forever snuffed out the last human characteristic he would ever have, Kenya took a long hard look at the gnarly looking tree and smiled.

She smiled because no sooner than Isiah finally became one with Mother Earth, a family of woodpeckers came to roost and began creating a new home for not only themselves, but for their relatives as well.

Satisfied that the forest's inner chi was restored back to health, Kenya gave the little sparrow a light kiss on the beak and sending it on its way, before disappearing into the mist to become one with the forest's chi again.

And perhaps, become one with herself.

(c) 2010 by GBMJr. All rights reserved.