Flasher: Moaner for the Dead

The spasms faded, leaving me sweaty, glowing, and alone. I had been his first, and last, and that was special.

Another came instantly, filling my mind and body, taking over and leaving me again a willing passenger. This one was female, I could tell. My hands lifted and passed over my breasts as if they were rare and new.

We explored my body, coaxing it to stretch and open. When we came I felt her unutterable gratitude, and after she left I smiled as I gulped some wine and waited for the next one.

Ouija boards are for amateurs.

Flasher: Being Neighborly

Cathy stormed up to Mitch, her landlord. “OK, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Carlson in 4B asked if I was dating again. Old man Witherspoon tried to fix me up with his grandson. There was a singles magazine in my mailbox this morning!”

“Oh. Well, you broke up with Rick.”


“We all miss him.”


“See, you’re kinda loud.”


“Yeah, like that. And the walls here are really thin, we can hear everything. It’s better than pay-per-view. You’re amazing.”

“I don’t believe this…”

“You know, my brother’s not seeing anybody, maybe you two could…?”

Flasher: Context is Everything

Looking at the plastic penis in the store, Marie was less than enthusiastic.

“What kind of pathetic people buy these things? Can’t get a real one, so buy an appliance? God, these things are so tacky! How could you buy one of these without dying of embarrassment?”

That night her eyes, dark with need, begged me for the blessed release my oil-slippery hands were promising. She reached for me, spreading her legs wide with a ragged moan. Instead I reached under the pillow for my secret purchase.

Looking at the plastic penis in her bed, Marie was more than enthusiastic.

Story: The Smell of Eve

“Like perfume?” I said, aghast. “Eww?”

Bev grinned at my expression. “Just a little dab behind the ears, another between the tits. Works every time.”

Story: A Matter of Taste

The guy had to be the most embarrassed person I’d ever seen in my life. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, looking everywhere but my actual face.

I set down the basket of lettuces I was carrying and smiled at him. Always put the customer at his or her ease; that’s the GrubMart way, or so my training manual said. “Yes sir? How can I help you?”

“Which… um… which fruit is the sweetest?” he stammered.

“Sweetest? Well, that depends on the season and how you’re planning on using it.”

“Using it?” He turned bright red and glanced around at the other shoppers. “What do you mean?”

I leaned back against the lettuce bin. “Were you just going to bite into it, or use it in a recipe, or blend it into a drink, or what? How were you going to use it?”

“Oh, of course. Ha ha! Yes, I see,” he said, visibly relieved. “No, no, I just, um. I need the sweetest fruit I can find, it’s a… er, it’s a dietary requirement. Look, could you just answer the question? I’m gonna eat it right out of the bag, which one is the sweetest?”

“Looking to make your semen taste better, am I right, sir?”

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