cheshiregrin7

"Bowl of Tears" My face hurts.  My eyes hurt.  My heart hurts.  Why?  Because she's gone.  My girl is gone, and I'm reduced to a quivering wreck.  Tears roll down my cheeks and fall from my chin.  They splash into the bowl of salad beneath me.  They blend in with the fresh, crisp lettuce.  Some fall to the bottom where they enhance the flavor of the pre-packaged Italian dressing.  They are lost in a forest of green onions, celery, and cucumber, sliced too thin.  She was taken from me, and it's just not fucking fair.  She was stolen.  My family is clueless to action.  They sit, stunned at my despair, as they shovel pasta and sauce into their

Excursion into Chaos: A Short Erotika Jack Peterson Sitting at the computer, busily typing away, she hears a creak.  Startled she spins around.  Nothing.  Emptiness.  Total Void.  Unnerved, yet somehow excited, she resumes her technical tasks.  Again, a creak.  And this time she could swear she hears somebody breathing.  She turns again, to find nothing.  Convinced of herself, she gets up to check the next room.  As she steps away from the chair, a shadow shifts behind her and a warm body presses itself against her, covering her eyes with one palm and silencing her words with another over her full lips.  Frightened beyond belief, she strug

Lovers I fucking hate writer's block!  I have my editor breathing down my neck.  And I can't come up with any thing good to write about.  Think Rob, think…Maybe if I look in the paper…   "Local Priest Defrocked."   That's promising.   "…Reverend Sean Mallory, 43, of St. Michael's Catholic Church was defrocked due to his missionary work in Malaysia.  It was proven that while in Malaysia he took the opportunity to frequent a brothel that specialized in young boys.  It was said that he often went to the establishment with medicines to treat the boys for diseases.  He soon became a patron often targeting the adolescents from age 7-12…" No,

Thief of Knights -Prologue- The snow was blinding.  The teller had struggled on like this for about six days.  He had been eating berries and melting snow over his meek fires for drinking water.  He was constantly shivering.  The driving wind whipped his cloak about his ankles.  He was about to halt and set up his shelter when he heard the blunt, thumping sound of hooves cantering in his direction from up ahead.  He dashed to the side of the trail and readied a knife.  "Bloody bandits are everywhere, nowadays.  Not like before," he grumbled to himself.  "Even a respected teller has to be ready," he said.  As the riders approached, however,

"This Scarlet Bamboo Forest" As black rain falls from the sky I am Overcome with lust Weave my way through this forest I become one with my kitten This scarlet bamboo forest envelopes me The crimson air is oppressive but The charred ash lifts me from my slumber in liberation I could wander this landscape forever Until my legs memorize every curve of the horizon Like the muscle memory of a pianist playing a particularly pleasant piece These hills consume me and drown me in beauty The tigress within rumbles the grounds like A leashed earthquake Aching to break free From the elaborate bondage that holds it down And beats it As i

Overture of the Skin Overwhelmed.  The sight of a woman in pleasure must be the most beautiful thing in the world.  Its almost indescribable. The arch of the back, the gasp, the fluttered eyelids, the neck standing out, that look of immeasurable ecstasy slicing through their face and rippling down their body all the way down to the pointed toes, pressing down into the mattress.  That space right at the base of the throat gets sucked in slightly as they inhale sharply to give oxygen to all the necessary areas.  That moan of elation escapes when it gets really good.  That moan begins the soft song of human pleasure, an endless notebook of cle