Category: Creative Writing

Simply Beautiful

I think of you,

and like a butterfly dancing

on the wings of the wind

my heart flutters.

Your face is a concoction

of beauty.

That girlish smile,

mixed with the twinkle in your eyes,

wrapped up in skin so silky,

those lips succulent and soft.

Your soul is so strong, confident, and gentle.

I think of you and

I am compelled to smile.

Early Morning Masturbation

That black bra strap. That’s all it took. As he stepped in the shower, his mind went back to the day before at the table. There were both silent as they ate, but his eyes, they roamed over every inch of her red-brown skin and landed on that strap.

He loved having sensitive nipples. He heard some men thought nipple play was feminine, but he loved how his responded to touch. He began to caress them as his mind took him on a journey. His right hand now stroking his cock, bringing him to an intense hard on.

Images of him kissing those lips he loved so much while freeing the two beautiful mounds of flesh constrained by that black bra.

He imagined laying her down, her legs up over his shoulders as he feasted, fingers exploring her orifices, tasting her creamy center as she panted his name.

The journey moved along, with him now standing over her, his hard cock ready to penetrate while he gazed at her breasts, his hands gently flicking her erect nipples.

As he stroked his cock, moaning her name, he grunted as he imagined push his full length into her, causing her to gasp and cling to him, their lips meeting again, then trailing kisses down her neck, to her collar bone, across her chest, to those nipples he was so ecstatic to see. With hunger, passion, and lust, his tongue tickled and sucked making her react as he continued sliding in and out of her.

She was close—he was close. With each spurt of his orgasm, he grunted through clenched teeth her name. Each burst brought him closer to the floor of the tub. His breaths were jagged and violent, he stopped playing with his nipples and gripped his thigh.

Fuck. That black bra strap. What a way to start his day.

Art’s Eternal Passion

I guess it had to be this way. Endings are rarely as beautiful as beginnings. Air whistled around the train, its passengers swaying to the rhythm as they sped along steel and timber to their various existences outside of corporate America. Darryl replayed memories over and over in his head.

He took note of the brunette staring his way. Her bright ruby red lipstick accentuated her almond eyes, and for a white girl, she had a wide nose. He saw her every day, and every day they locked eyes, smiled and nodded to each other.

He bit back tears. Beauty should never die. The brunette sat next to him. “Hi, I’m Gail.” She sat patiently, the scent of her perfume filled Darryl’s nostrils. He was instantly forced to look deep into the brown abyss of this gorgeous woman’s soul. “Darryl,” was all he could manage to get out. He was shocked. This gorgeous white woman, who no doubt probably worked as a lawyer, or in City Hall, was sitting here next to this big muscular black construction worker, wanting to get to know him. “What do you say we get off at the next stop?” Suddenly Darryl didn’t feel so sad anymore. “Yeah? Yeah, that sounds cool, Gail.” The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat.

Gail watched this man for months get on and off the train. They always locked eyes. They always smiled. For the first time today, she noticed there seemed to be no life in his face. She was curious as to why, she was curious to see if could change that.

Once of the train, they climbed out of the subway and out onto the street. “So, Darryl, what moves you?” Gail wasn’t going to waste this evening with pleasantries. A man she hardly knew looked as if he lost his best friend, and she wanted to help. 

Darryl looked up in surprise at the question, but he was ready with an answer, long before the question was ever asked, Darryl knew. He lived by this conviction, it motivated his movement, his speech, and despite being in a career he didn’t enjoy, it showed in his work. “Love, beauty, and art.” Gail couldn’t help getting turned on. They both sensed a sexual tension between them, but they both knew there were ingredients that needed to be mixed just right. “What about you, Gail? What drives you?” They arrived at a quaint neighborhood bar on Tenth street. The way her escaped from those beautiful succulent lips gave her goose bumps. Gail was a highly educated woman, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was falling in love. She knew it wasn’t lust—lust required different ingredients. A knowing of one’s person, but a disliking of the embodiment of their soul, yet a yearning for their touch.

When she smiled, her eyes squinted every so lightly, and the corners of her mouth turned up with great expression. “Art, love, both of which I find beautiful.” Two drinks were ordered. Gail turned and looked Darryl straight into his soul. “We’ve made eye contact on the blue line for over six months. I have dreamed about approaching you, but I had to feel you out. We’d always smile, then part ways. That was always the best part of my day. Your smile. Your eyes. I noticed something different about you today.”
Darryl stared straight back at her. He liked her style. “I don’t believe beauty should die, and today I got wind an old friend has moved on.” Gail took a seductive sip of her drink. She inhaled the stale air deeply, “My love, beauty can be created, but it cannot die.” Passion dripped from her every word. “Oh yeah?”

Leaning in and almost whispering, Gail said, “No my love, beauty will live on here,” tapping her temple, “and here,” placing her hand on his chest. “Who died?” “Not who. A guy who owned a small art studio, well he would display a lot of art in this shop of his. He closed it. Said some developers offered him a nice deal. It was the brightest spot in my childhood. But sitting here with you, hearing your words. You’re right, those memories will live forever in me.” Gail rested her hand on top of his. “We should leave.”

Back at his apartment, Gail made love to this man she only just met an hour ago. It was fierce, passionate, it was the realest thing she had ever experienced in twenty-nine years of existence. Every orgasm took her to a new height of pleasure and ecstasy. Theirs was a passionate love of art, filled with beauty. They regretted it deep inside, although the passion shared between them bordered a fierce, almost violent love.

Parent Teacher Conferences

Parent Teacher Conferences
The Steele Chronicles; Pt 1

Carla could not keep her hands off her husband, Dean. This was not unusual, as they shared a passionate bond that made their friends jealous. However; tonight, was parent teacher conferences and then they were off to dinner at one of their favorite upscale restaurants, and then a weekend in the mountains. It had been too long since they got away from their two teenage children.
“Come here,” Dean leaned over the console and met his bride halfway. Lips met and parted with a ferociousness that made him lightheaded. Her lips were thick, soft, and succulent. He was powerless against the rush of sexual energy racing from his lips to his manhood, where an almost painful erection begged to be free. Her mouth tasted sweet, like cherries, and the scent of her perfume—something he bought her, but he couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance molested his nostrils with a gentle whiff. Their eyes opened as tongues tickled one another—and Carla’s breath caught in her throat. Her husband’s hand reached up to touch her bare shoulder, then slowly slid down to her face, neck, then—Carla had to act fast, if he touched her breast they would not make it out of the car, so she playfully slapped his hand away, and broke the kiss. “Nope! Come on or we’ll be late!” she said jumping out of the car.
Walking the halls of her old high school brought back so many salacious memories. “It says here we have to meet with Dr. Kara, room 117,” Dean said as his hand grabbed a handful of Carla’s derriere. She turned around in front of him, almost making them both fall, peck kissed him and grabbed his package. “Hmm, or, you could just let me have a meeting with this,” she grinned.
“Hi neighbors!” The couple both made annoyed faces. Their neighbor, Kate, whose four bratty children also attended Joshtown High, stood in the hallway, gawking at what she considered to be inappropriate behavior. “Well Carla, you look awfully saucy this evening? I didn’t know architects could dress so—” she searched for the right word, but before finding it, Dean cut in. “She looks absolutely fabulous, doesn’t she?”20130914_193033 (2)3604573660549900812..jpg
“Oh, yes right! Of course, she does! Well you two go on your merry way now! I guess I should be getting on to my kids’ next teacher.”
Dean and Carla rolled their eyes as the continued flirting down the hall. Neither of them could stand Kate. She was a jealous woman who loved to start gossip. She was especially jealous of the Steele’s. Carla was a big name in the architect industry, holding two master’s degrees, she was highly sought after. Her husband was ex-military, and now he was a State Trooper, quickly working his way up the ranks. Rumor had it that Kate even hated how respectful and well behaved their children were.
Once inside room 117, Carla and Dean began to make out while waiting for their child’s teacher to come back. Dean wasted no time sliding a hand up his wife’s short dress, she gasped loudly. “Shhh!” Dean joked as his mouth nuzzled her ear then assaulted her neck.
The door creaked open and both parents jumped. “Ahem!” Dr. Kara was a little surprised to catch to adults making out in her classroom, but a quick once over and she understood. “I can see you two are anxious to get out of here, so I’ll make this quick.”
Carla squeezed her legs together as the meeting wore on. The heat radiating from between her thighs was making her uncomfortably horny. She could see her husband, sitting so erect, like something else in his pants. He was trying to keep his eyes away from her, but he kept glancing over, devouring her, making her hot and moist.
The bell rung sounding it was time for them to move on to the next classroom. Carla had other plans. She grabbed Dean’s hand and rushed down the hallway, knocking past the other parents who looked at the couple in bewilderment. They practically knocked Kate over as Carla led them to the teacher’s lounge, where she knew there was a restroom that would give them some privacy.
Once inside, they let their inhibitions go. Their hands groped with passionate hunger through clothes until they found the parts they so desperately needed. Carla freed her husband’s erection as he expertly removed her thong. He picked her up and sat her on the sink counter as she guided his heavy cock to her opening, filling her, stretching her. “Oooohhh gawd! Dean you feel so good!” Dean finally got to get his hands on his wife’s breast, kneading her nipples, squeezing just enough to make her wince, as he began to thrust. She wrapped her long brown legs around him, forcing him to impale her with every inch. Their mouths wrestled with one another; her hands gripped his ass as he began to drill her violently.
Dean couldn’t believe how wet Carla was. It took every bit of concentration not to explode. Even after two children, his wife was as tight as ever. Dean pulled out abruptly, turned Carla around and bent her over the sink counter. Her hands up on the mirror, he pushed back inside of her with a grunt. He pulled her dress up revealing her tattoo20190622_1153054571101334995578002.jpg which drove him wild, and he did a thing that caused her to squirt. Amid being pounded, Carla felt pressure on her asshole. Not that she wanted to protest, but before she knew it, a finger was inserted. To keep from screaming she used one hand to cover her mouth, but she was unable to control the orgasm that took over her body. His knees buckled and she dropped to the floor as her flower gushed.
During their frenzied fucking, they forgot to close the bathroom door, giving Kate a free peep show. Neither noticed until Dean came hard in Carla’s mouth. Kate gasped causing the couple to stare in disbelief. Kate had caught them before on multiple occasions, but never outside of their home. In fact, it was their belief that she spied on them.
Carla winked up at her husband, turned to Kate, and stuck her tongue out, showing her the contents.
Dean threw his head back and laughed as she stormed out. “Fuck! We I think we missed Mr. Hawthorne’s class! We better get cleaned—” Dean looked down at his trousers, “We better go.” They laughed as they ran from the building, hand in hand, off to fuck again in the restaurant parking lot as they waited for their table to be called.

Wish I Could Sleep

It’s about 3:20a.m here in Philadelphia, and yet here I am drinking a cup of coffee. I can feel the weight of sleep on my eye lids, but my mind has other plans.

I am on paternity leave again. My wife, daughter and I welcomed our son just last Wednesday. I swear this little bundle of joy was going to set a record for how much formula a new born could stomch–seemed like ever hour since about 12 he was crying to be fed.

I am writing merely to say I wrote. Recently i posted about a work in progress, a story I am currently working on; however,there hasn’t been much progress lately. But this project I am working on is something bigger than just another erotic story I post on my blog. It holds the potential to be something more, so I will view it as a goal, a deep desire to make it more than just a blog post.

I am always a little bit leary to post photos of my kids, but as a proud dad, I just cannot help myself, so here goes

Work in Progress

So this morning I finally sat down and began to work on something that may or may not be bigger than what I initially intended. I do not get to write/post the way I would like, but my mind is always coming up with new things to jot down.

Once I have gotten the main idea of this current piece I’m working on, I will share it with you all! Take care until then!

Persistence

Let the chips
Fall where chance
And gravity willed
His love for her
Was warm and persistent, cool
And kind like a beverage chilled
Forbidden by time and
Circumstance,
He confessed heartfelt emotions
Amidst so much commotion, and
Though slowed down, his love
Lumbered with locomotion.
-SpKn

Inconspicuous

Tears welled up
Behind copacetic eyes
All smiles and high fives
Yet inside there’s a man who
Just wants to cry and hide
From these ugly dark things, he
Can’t help but feel
Are they made up or can it be
These emotions are real?
Is all love lost, or with effort can
His heart be healed?
Tears stay stuck behind those battered
Eyes
His heart yells silently, stuck here
He knows he’ll die violently.
-SpkN

Eloquent Kisses

Ever so eloquent you stand with your back to me
Quick as a kitten, silent as a whisper
I entangle you in a warm embrace, my lips attack your neck
You push against me, melting into the strength of my arms.
My lips finish their gentle assault and softly
I say, “I love you.”

Rushing to Write

I have put so much pressure on myself to blog/write. I wanted to be one of those bloggers with like 1,500 followers, tons of likes and comments as a way of saying, “Dude, you’re a great writer!” But, I’m not a “great” writer, just a cook who loves to write about any and everything.

There is/are something(s) lacking in my writing. For one, vision. What is my end game here? It’s hard to sit and be consistent when your day starts at 3:45am and you have a toddler and a baby on the way. So I am forced to ask myself, am I writing as a form of escape and the world (30+ followers) is traveling along with me? Or am I building up to something bigger?

I have seen some of the pages I follow discuss different awards they have received and I ask myself, what would that take for me to achieve that level of coolness? Truth be told, I do not submit my work for peer reviews for a few reasons, one is actually an excuse (I haven’t copyrighted my work), the other is that I am so used to folks saying, “Oh, that’s really good!” And that’s as far as it goes, and then finally, fear… fear that my writing isn’t as good as I think it is.

The other issue I find in my writing is my lack of reading. I usually fall asleep with books opened on my face and my wife has to put them away losing my page (lol). My lack of reading has grotesquely affected my vocabulary. When I was younger, you couldn’t pay NOT to read. Now, as a full time cook, dad, and husband, I hardly have time to breathe. I need to read both fiction and non fiction. I need to study the Bible, and read other world views not neccessary in search of a new world view, but understanding how mine lines up along with others. I need to distance my reality from what I write, learn to put the reader in a world not mine or theirs.

Lastly. My writing needs time and patience. I tend to write something, and BOOM! I think it’s a masterpiece. I need to go back, edit, rethink, retool, and possibly rewrite, maybe scratch the whole project and start again. But I need to learn not to rush… even as I type this, i am hurrying so I can get the little one up and start our day.

So I will end with this; to my followers and to whomever else may stumble upon this here blog, feel free to leave some critiques, be real, in spite of my fears, I will take the meat and leave the bone.

-SpKn