Tag Archives: sex

Happy Easter?

Photo by the talented photographer Caiti Borruso.

I was sound asleep when she started prodding me.

“Hey,” she said quietly, then “Hey!”

I opened by eyes to notice it was still a bit dark outside.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Happy Easter! Want to go to church with me?”

I turned to her and saw she had a cute little yellow dress on.

“How about we stay in bed?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.

“I said church! How can you reply with sex?”

I rolled back over. “No church for me. You should know that by now.”

She sighed and started playing with my hair.

I pretended to be asleep.

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Justin (A Story of Connections)

Boy was she pissed. He’d never seen her really angry before; usually her pushover personality was something he abused, but something set her off. Maybe she was onto him. Maybe he’d have to change his ways if she figured him out. Or maybe it was time for him to move on.

She was a good lay, sure, had an amazing body, which of course was what attracted him to her in the first place. She talked too much for his liking, especially after they banged, but he could deal with it so long as she kept doing all she did in the sack.

A sharp turn made the tires on his BMW squeal. He’d better bring it to the shop this week and have them check the air.

How was he supposed to remember their six month anniversary? It had started out as a drunken fling, he had no intention of keeping her around until that move she made, the one he constantly hoped she would do again but she saved for special occasions. He briefly wondered if she was holding out to keep him around but quickly brushed the thought away. She didn’t have that kind of personality. He would probably use the word sweet to describe her, which made him shudder a little.

What were they doing around here, giving away free beer? The whole strip was devoid of parking spots, and he had to get to the jeweler soon or all hope of tonight being that special move night would be for nothing. He had to really go all out to make up for forgetting. What did he care anyway, it was just another date on the calendar…

He made a turn and saw someone with their turn signal on and knew it was a spot. If he gassed it and jumped the medial strip he could just beat her…

Breakfast in Bed

In a half-awake stupor she felt the other side of the bed to find it empty. Alarmed, she jumped up and surveyed the room, realizing he was not in it. His clothing, so thoughtlessly thrown to the ground the night before in a passionate transition from date to bed, was all gone.

She had a moment of startling alarm that she had been abandoned once again and sat up to lean against the headboard and analyze where things went wrong. She let him in her bed too soon. She laughed too much at dinner. Or not enough. Was it her outfit? Her perfume? Too much, too little? That’s when she noticed an odd scent sneaking into the room.
She tiptoed to the bedroom door and opened it a crack to peek into the kitchen, where she heard the sizzling of bacon and then recognized the lovely aroma of breakfast. She heard the toaster pop and closed the door with care.
As she climbed back into bed she rolled around a bit on her fluffy white comforter and smiled. This was a lovely moment she wanted to savor; maybe he was one of the good ones.
She heard the hallway floorboard creak, a warning that he was coming, and slid back into her original sleeping position, closed her eyes and feigned sleep as he opened the door with a tray of food, a breakfast in bed.

Photographs by Nadia Lavard, whose regular blog can be seen here and photo blog here.

What’s My Motivation?

“I’m an actor, I need my motivation,” he said.

“To make breakfast? Really?” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her roommate. “How about to eat? Fulfill your animalistic need to feed? Survival?”

“Meh.”

“Don’t you have call backs later today? I don’t know – a stomach growling on stage, not sure how that would go over. Imagine what the casting director would say…”

He jumped up and headed for the kitchen as a sly smile crossed her face.

“Still got it,” she said, lounging back onto their orange velvet couch. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and curled herself up into it. A few minutes worth of sizzling sounds came from the kitchen and moments later he was above her holding out a plate and mug. “Spinach omelet. Irish Breakfast tea with a splash of milk.”

“Yum,” she said as she sat up and took them from his hands.

“I hope you’re happy.”

“It was your turn!” she said with a frown.

“Your hair is a mess. You have sex hair.”

“I do not!”

“Do you honestly think I didn’t hear captain marvelous stumble out this morning? He stepped on Walter,” he said as their cat entered the room on queue, almost frowning at her in frustration after having been stepped on.

“Aw, Walter, come here, I’m so sorry,” she said in a baby voice, making him cringe.

“So, yeah, sex hair. You’re so transparent. If you’re planning on going to class I would at least run a brush through it. Not that the neighbors don’t know what a whore you are, what with all that noise last night. Or maybe they’ll just think Walter was in a cat fight.”

“Sounds like you’re the one in the mood for a cat fight. Don’t forget to wash the dishes,” she said, leaving her plate behind on the couch for him to pick up but bringing the mug with her. He grunted she spun back to answer.

“It’s your turn! I did breakfast yesterday!”

“Yeah, I remember, runny eggs and toast barely toasted. A real treat.”

He sat back and ate the last bit of his omelet and then jumped a bit as she screamed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to brush my hair! It’s really knotted!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let him pull it so much.”

She poked her head out of the bathroom, blushing a little.

“Yeah, I heard that part too. Everyone did. Whore.”

“You’re just jealous that I have a man and you don’t.”

“For the hundredth time I AM NOT GAY.”

“Now who is transparent?” she asked from the doorway again, this time smiling.

“Try taking a shower. You can’t possibly be planning on going out today without washing off the stink of nasty, dirty hair-pulling sex.”

This time only a hand with an extended finger protruded from the bathroom.

“Mature.”

She started running the shower and then poked her head out again.

“Shouldn’t you be heading out to callbacks? Or do you need me to tell you your motivation. Probably to get a beej from the director.”

He gave her the finger, and as he did so noticed the time on his watch, cursed, grabbed his coat and ran towards the door.

“Have a nice day, slut.”

Squabble

Their screaming could be heard from two floors down and the apartment manager already received a few calls, but he was used to it.

“I can’t take this anymore! Why can’t you just clean it off when you’re done?”

“I already told you,” he yelled back. “It’s not a big deal!”

“It is a big deal, Dustin. It’s a HUGE deal! It gets all crusty and gross! Just clean it and put the cap back on when you’re done!”

He stood up from the leather couch and stepped towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a beer!”

She huffed and stomped after him towards the kitchen and arrived as he popped open the can. “What?” he asked, a defensive sound in his voice.

“Why can’t you just put the cap back on?”

“I just forget, okay? Geez!”

Her face started turning red.

“Do you think I like this? Do you think I like to squabble with you?”

He was about to yell back but instead laughed. “Did you just say squabble?”

She thought. “Yeah. So?”

He chuckled. “It’s just…you don’t hear that word very often.”

She calmed a bit. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s more of a grandmother word, don’t you think?” He did his best old lady voice. “You youngins…you quit that squabbling now.”

She turned away and frowned, pouting a bit. “I’m not an old lady.”

“This I know. An old lady wouldn’t have boobs like these,” he said, reaching around her waist towards them.

“Cut it out.”

“Why?”

“Can you PLEASE just start putting the cap back on the toothpaste?”

“So the crusties stay away?”

“Exactly,” she said, softening a little.

He put down the can of beer. “If I do, you won’t squabble with me anymore?”

“Shut up,” she said, smiling.

“I think we should go squabble in the bedroom.”

Her smile grew, and he returned in kind, then picked her up and carried her towards the bedroom.

A few minutes later the manager started getting calls again, but this time the noises were of a different nature.