Hot Flashes Sexy Stories » Excerpts, Hot Flashes 2

The Smell of Water

Laurie McAndish King — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:08:19 +0000

I imagined the moist hairline down his stomach pointing the way to his tumescent dick touching her wet thigh. They probably laughed together in the steam while her big breasts jiggled against his chest and the clear shower door.

– Jill Kelly

Mermaid

Laurie McAndish King — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:07:24 +0000

She wanted him to touch her but realized that he would not reach for her first. So, slowly, she raised her hand and moved it across the space between them, and resting her fingers on his smooth cheeks, caressed his face. She ran her fingers over his closed eyes, then closed hers as she pulled herself toward him and kissed his mouth. She kissed him gently at first, and then let her wet mouth open to his. She tasted the earth, its rocks and trees, and she tasted the metal tang of his saxophone.

– Lisa Thompson

Supple Wings

Laurie McAndish King — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:06:51 +0000

I half-expect him to stop me, tell me I’m not his type, but instead he holds me closer, his breath warm as he seeks my ear, neck, curve of jaw leading to lips. His are soft, moist, hungry, and I want to feed him as prodigiously as I want to be fed. Our lips and tongues flick and roll as that cold smooth ball taps channels flowing to breasts, navel, veiled lips pulsing with blood. My thumb and forefinger sandwich his left nipple, rising hard. I flip the ring up and down, aching to slide as gracefully as that slender loop along his skin.

– Elizabeth Weaver

Sleeping With Angels

Laurie McAndish King — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:05:55 +0000

While lying across the poolside buffet table of a beachfront hotel (in between two pottery bowls filled with fruit), the Mexican flag under my ass, my right breast cradled in the gynecologist’s capable hand, I realize I need to dump Lance. We have escaped the disco, and it is finally quiet except for the rhythmic lull of the waves and the distant droning of Latin rock. The sky outside is bursting with stars. My thighs are pressed against the table, the soft silk of the flag making them sweat.

– Pamela Alma Bass

Social Justice

Laurie McAndish King — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 16:03:36 +0000

I had never been made love to with such an incredible intensity. I didn’t let myself be scared, but I was a little. I kept thinking of ways to swim across part of the bay and get away if I had to. But the smell of the salt water, the wet nighttime grass, the salty winds, and Ames’ powerful body searching for mental and physical love from me were overpowering. I held him tight and he moaned and cried.

– Ann Harrington