I have just returned from Eroticon and attending a workshop that including Flash Fiction from Molly Moore as well as Janine Ashbless; I have therefore tried to do this WickedWednesday in a flash fiction style.
Enjoy: if you can find the story. It’s “hidden!” 😉
She remembered Mr Fingers.
The glare of the monitor illuminated the room as the figures on the barely-focussed grainy video kissed. She had good memories, lots of them. Memories of his long fingers touching her, caressing her, arousing her and finally, when she was sinking in a pool of lust-filled desperation, rubbing her G-Spot until she came with a thunderous cry and a shuddering explosion of relief.
Yes, she remembered Mr Fingers very well. He had been her favourite that month; if she didn’t count Mr Buzzy.
Mr Buzzy packed a small sex toy with a big reputation; she loved that night so much. The stress of work banished by the squeal of the vibrations, by the continuous waves of orgasmic heaven tearing through her mild resistance, by the unbelievable wetness that soaked her bed, and by the insatiable will of her crotch pleading with her temporary partner for just one more climax.
Just one more, she was like the kid in the sweet shop: just one more, please sir! But he obliged, and he gave her several more orgasms, watching her writhe, scream and groan, until his own arousal required sating, and he pounded his cock into her like she was a ragdoll; she loved it. She always did.
Her fingers danced over her clit as she changed video; luring men to her boudoir for no strings attached sex was easy; finding men that allowed her to video the playtime was harder, much harder.
But hidden cameras allowed her do just that.
And as Mr Buzzy’s vibrator worked it’s magic on her video, her fingers delved into the waistband of her pyjamas.
She had a date next week with “Greg”: just her, a shy bored divorcee desperate for sex, and her hidden video camera.
She could barely wait.