I have a confession to make. Last month, and the month before that, right after I had written my #Storyin12 for the day, I made a note on why I had written it, what the twelve words meant to me. This month, not only had I not done it, but three times (yes, three times), I haven’t done the challenge on the day itself, but the next day. And you know what? The sky didn’t fall down on me. I guess this has just proved to me that at times it’s okay not to push myself too hard.
So this for the busy month of December, I give you my thirty-one contributions to #Storyin12 and leave it up to your imagination to fill in some of the details.
Even in the winter of her life she made young men drool.
Hard bump on his shoulder.
“Oops, sorry, Sir.”
What punishment will follow?
Blue wasn’t the color she thought of, admiring marks in the mirror.
She had no predetermined method; just jumped in and seduced the men.
An ocean of bitter tears were cried after their breakup. By both.
Red lines on a red bottom and some tears, was his forecast.
It wasn’t the length or thickness, but his talented moves she liked.
It wasn’t inspiration she lacked; it was knowing whether he’ll like it.
Softly kissing her bare neck, he zipped her party dress, agonizingly slow.
Christmas lights, candle lights… if only it shone through in her heart.
After pain and hardship surely comes sunshine and rainbows? Isn’t that life?
Even only remembering his stupid arrogant face had her blood boiling again.
Learning about his double agenda, she cut him out of her life.
Shaking her head, she realized she’s in too deep. There’s no solution.
There intense holiday affair stranded on the border between their two countries.
Despite the treatment, her grip on life weakened. She had to go.
“Keep in mind,” he said, “you’re sleeping with your glass plug tonight.”
She didn’t want a medal; all she wanted was to be acknowledged.
Climbing a tree with no knickers was a calculated move. No accident.
His gift stood in the corner — naked, a bow decorating her bottom.
Only one stolen moment needed; nine months later their baby was born.
“Coffee?” wasn’t what he meant or she heard. The implicit question: “Fuck?”
The stern expression in his eyes sent delicious shivers down her spine.
Her addiction to pleasured pain couldn’t be explained; it was her drug.
She dressed up for Christmas dinner — black dress and shoes, nothing more.
Rung by rung she climbed, her naked bottom beckoning him to follow.
Our cat, not our cat; one of the best things of 2018.
After twenty orgasms — no record — she had still not reached her limit.
A groan escaped her when he pushed himself into her.
Her attempts to provoke him into spanking her were all in vain.
No matter how you celebrate it, let’s raise a glass to 2019!
Of course this last one was deliberately written for the last day of 2018, and as a bit of a wink to my last post of 2018, Raise Your Glass! I am a big believer in positive energy and positive thinking, even in dark times. I know (oh how I know) that it’s not always easy to be positive, and sometimes not even possible, but I always try.
© Rebel’s Notes