All Summer Long! This delicious story was contributed by the sexy and wonderful Kiki Howell.
She sent this little note with her entry:
I barely get to write in the summer with my teacher husband and my two boys all home, so I was more than willing to take up your challenge :)
And Kiki, we're so glad you did.
Our second sexy entry was by none other than one of my favourite partners in crime, the always-sensual, the always willing-and-able May Deva.
Now, I know that usually there's only a prize for first place, but seeing as this was my first contest, and seeing how both ladies put a lot of effort into their pieces, they're BOTH getting prizes.
One of the things I LOVE about summer is that you don't have to wear socks. Hell, in some places you don't even have to wear shoes! And there's all the lovely shades of nail polish, and toe rings, and anklets - all sorts of things to make your feet pretty (and sexy) for the summer. So, whilst purusing Etsy, I came across these amazing barefoot sandals.
Each of the ladies wins her choice of these lovely creations, along with an extra something special for first place!
So ladies, check your email for information. And thank you BOTH so much for participating. It means more than you'll ever know.
I haven't given up yet - another contest will be held before the summer is up!
Two entries. Two wonderfully talented writers decided to try their hand at my challenge, and I am ETERNALLY grateful to them both.
What was the challenge?
Take your favourite summer song. Use it to inspire a five-hundred word sexy summer story.
Here are the two wonderful entries. No names, but vote for your favourite. Voting closes Friday night (July 15) at midnight EST.
Brown-Eyed Girl
It is a cliche to call a summer night sultry, but it fit. Sitting in
the prickling grass with some friends, with the sun setting and some
folk-y music drifting from the bandshell, it was hot,sticky,sultry and
just about perfect.
“Excuse me, miss.”
A bump from behind and a deep voice jarred me. I looked over my
shoulder and smiled, not wanting to break my mood just yet.
“Not a problem. No harm, no foul, right?”
His broad smile, with a slight gap between his front teeth, answered
as he sprawled on the grass beside me. He looked like a surfer, tanned
and wind-blown.
“Hello, brown eyed girl.I believe there's been a song or two written
about you. They didn’t do you much justice though.”
His eyes scanned from my hair to my toes, then back to my eyes.
Normally, I'd be giving him the brush-off by now, instead I was
grinning back. He looked ready for a lark and willing to instigate if
need be.
“Ah,” I rolled my eyes dramatically, “Flattery may get you everywhere.”
He leaned towards me. “Really?”
“Maybe.”
I turned my head towards the bandshell, smiling, willing to let the
moment linger. We sat in silence through two more songs, testing the
current flowing between us. He moved slightly, I could feel his heat
on my bare arm. A new band took the stage and slow strains of music
wove themselves around us as the twilight deepened.
He shifted again, brushing his arm against mine. I realized I was
leaning toward him as well.
“You smell so good. I bet you taste even better.” He said quietly,
brushing my hair back from my face.
Trailing his hand down my arm, he touched his lips to mine softly,
ghosting his tongue across my bottom lip. He tasted like summer,
slightly salt and smoky. I wanted more. He brushed my hair aside and
began tracing patterns on my exposed skin, shivers following each soft
pass across my neck. My pulse was shifting from waltz to cha-cha, the
man had talent.
One hand brushed across my breast, bringing it to a swift peak. I felt
an answering stiffness against my back, a twitch that echoed in my
pussy. The hand continued down my side, burrowing under my loose
summer skirt.
“Oh, dirty girl. No panties.”
His fingers dipped into my wetness, mirrored the patterns he was
tracing on my neck across my clit. I was coming undone rapidly, his
cock pressing against my ass as I leaned back.
“Come for me.”
He bit down on my shoulder, just as I felt my body clench, and I bit
my lip to keep from groaning as release rushed through my body like a
tidal bore. He held me, waited for my breath to calm, stroking my
hair.
“Wonder what our first date will hold.” he chuckled, drawing me to my
feet and into the night.
All Summer Long
We were not in Alabama and far from seventeen. But, as Kid Rock screeched All Summer Long on the radio, I got ideas. Sweat beaded on my husband’s reddish-tan chest, running over tight abdominal muscles, soaking into the band of his paint and dirt covered work shorts which hung low on his waist. He caught me looking.
Smiling in a rather crooked way, he huffed, “The yard can wait.”
He turned with a grunt, grabbed the ice water I’d gotten him and disappeared behind the one closed garage door.
When I stepped inside, he grabbed my arm and turned me into him, his hand covering my mouth. As I struggled for air, his free hand worked around my tank to pull my bra free. After it fell, I felt the cold rush of his ice water over my chest.
My screech was stifled by the tight grip of his hand. Backing up on instinct, I felt his erection hard against my ass. The heat of the day radiated from his skin against my back as I watched my nipples pebble under my white tank top.
“Cooled down?” His voice was deep, his breath hot across my ear. I shivered.
I could only nod.
He grabbed at my breasts. Desire pooled deep in my stomach.
“Bend,” he demanded. I obeyed, laying over the front of his car. His free hand yanked my shorts and panties down over my nearing sun-burnt thighs. Then, I heard his pants hit the ground as well. Seconds later, I felt his knuckles and the head of his cock at my wet opening. As I imagined his big hand tight around his erection, my inner walls expanded around him.
A door slammed in the distance. My heart started hammering even harder.
“Come,” he hissed. The sudden invasion coupled with his anxious pace and fear of being caught, built the tension inside me from a fire to a near explosion.
His fingers moved between me and the car. Separating my folds and gathering my moisture there, they finally landed on my throbbing clit. Rapid thrusts pushed my engorged nub hard against the pads of his fingers. My taut inner muscles gave way to sparks of release, like fireworks shooting through my body. His hand at my mouth silenced my scream of pleasure. His chest fell to mine, and I heard his own quiet groans in my ear. His hot seed spilling into me set off another round tremors inside my body.
No sooner had our heat crescendoed than he pushed me down to kneeling behind the car—my wet nipples pressed against my hot thighs, my shorts still around my ankles, his legs against my bare ass. I heard his zipper seconds before I heard my neighbor’s voice.
“You got any energy left to help me a minute?”
I bit my lip not to giggle as the evidence of our moment trickled onto my thigh and I plotted future summer sexcapades.
Four and a half hours left until midnight. Until the deadline for my first contest arrives.
And I've gotta tell you friends, I'm feeling mighty discouraged.
One entry. That's all I've got.
I'm not mentioning the wonderful author/authoress who submitted, because the poll will be anon if I get enough entries. But I'd like to thank her from the bottom of my heart.
But alas, I know my fave scribes are all very busy - Sommer is editing and writing her (getting progressively smaller) ass off, Alison's To-Do list is NEVER done, and Aisling just completed a cross country move. And I can't forget my wonderful Dayle, who's husband was in a bike accident and has been keeping us posted via iPhone from his bedside. (NOTE: I'm happy to say that he's at home now recovering nicely. WTG Ken!)
So that leaves the little known writers, whom I've wanted to get to know through this contest.
But no one is reading. Or at least no one is writing.
SO, I'm hoping that this last post before the clock strikes twelve will inspire some of you to sit down and type out five-hundred little tiny words that would mean so much to me.
I thank you for reading - and hopefully for writing.
Then how about 500 words for my contest? LOL. I mean, the deadline is the day AFTER my birthday. (Please don't ask how old - some know the truth, but I'll never tell. Let's just say young enough to still do it, and old enough to know not to confess until the cops show)
So when I blow out my candles, my wish will be to have a full in-box at midnight on July 11. I know some of you have already sent them in, and I am forever grateful for that.
But for those of you still hesitating - let's just say that iTunes will play a part of the prize. Exactly what I can't say. AND if I get a full in-box, Ms. Alison Tyler has introduced me to a number of wonderfully talented artists on Etsy to choose from.
For those wondering how my "vacation" went - let's just say next year I'd rather stay home. 'Nuff said. But isn't that sexy purple birthday cake bad ass?
Every year, for a few days, I come up north to enjoy some peace and quiet with the women in my family. We drink, chill, listen to music and enjoy each others company.
And drink. Lots. Lots and lots of alcohol is consumed in these four days. This year, with the tragedies that have befallen my family - the loss of my father in February and my aunt's divorce - things are a little more tense than usual.
Normally, I try to keep my mind blank and serene, enjoying the sun, the company, the scenery.
The peace.
But this year it just can't happen. So, as you might have read a few entries ago, I have put myself on a self-imposed deadline: to finish at least two of the works in progress that I have waiting for me on my hard drive.
The internet connection is sketchy at best, so I'm not sure how long this will take to post, if it even does. I can't get cell reception decent enough to call home, and I feel like I'm in the middle of a shit storm.
My 18 year old cousin (the one who's parents are divorced) is being a 12 year old brat, screaming and swearing at her mother and calling her every name in the book. She didn't want to come to begin with and frankly, I didn't want to bring her. I swear that child is the BEST form of birth control EVER. My other cousin is feeling it, because she lost her mother six years ago, and she would do anything to have her back. When the screaming starts, I can see it in her eyes, how much she misses her mom. And that causes resentment. So there's just tension.
Lots and lots of tension.
Which means more alcohol consumption. Which I am just fine with, and am eagerly participating in.
This mini vay-cay is another reason that I extended the deadline on my contest. So, as of July 11, the contest is CLOSED. No more extensions - even if I only have one entry...
*blink blink*
*sniff sniff*
Although - I'm hoping that with the guest blog over at Unapologetic Fiction (thank you again to the lovely Sommer Marsden for having me), and with my wonderful friends following me on Twitter , I'll have at least a few entries to make it interesting.
And again, I promise to have a fitting, and interesting prize as well.
**All written materials featured on this blog are protected under copyright. Any use of part or all of this material without the express written permission of the author is an infringement of personal creative property and subject to legal action**
I write sexy, fun, kinky things that make people...smile. (And I act and sing too. :P) Lover of books, food, and people. Crazy - creative - stubborn bitch. Fiercely loyal even when not deserved. Love me at my worst - you get me at my best. And baby, my best is better than you know.
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