Just a glass

I recently shared a story written from the perspective of a tree, a story I originally wrote in 2014. It seems back then I had a thing for writing from the perspective of an inanimate object, as today I am sharing another of those – Shattered Glass. Back then I wrote the story in the past tense (sort of, as tenses were mixed a bit too much to my liking) but now changed it to the present, as it fits better, and feel stronger.

Writing from this perspective is a good exercise in writing. I feel it makes me think more of the setting, of the characters, of what’s possible and what’s not. Try it!

PS: I left the original meme badges in place.


Shattered Glass

I try not to look. I really try.

But, the pull… the pull towards the abyss. It’s so strong. Right next to my foot, the abyss beckons me; taunts me. One wrong move will mean the end. One push will be my death.

There she is. I hear her laughter. She will help me, move me away from the abyss and to a safe place. She always does.

But wait, she’s not alone. There’s another voice. Ah, it’s him. The man who was here the last two weekends too. Despair fills me. I will just have to keep my breath and ignore the pull. She’s occupied, and will not even notice me. Laughter and talking drift into the kitchen from the next door room. Impatience vibrates through me.
“Would you like a drink?” I hear her asking.
“Do you have wine?”
“Yes, I do.”

Relief floods through me. My rescue from certain destruction is close. Surely she will see me where she has left me last night, and put me in a safe spot. I can surely do with a wash!

Just as I see her enter through the archway, the man appears behind her, grabs her arm, swings her around into his arms and kisses her. The visitor’s fingers are entangled in her hair. He pulls her head back and she whimpers. The new lover kisses and bites her neck, and from her moans it’s clear she’s enjoying his attention. She hasn’t seen me yet. Neither has he. I wonder if they will leave without even noticing me. Slight panic fills me, but I quickly push it away. I just have to be patient.

“I want to fuck you.”

Ouch! That’s something I don’t want to hear. I really don’t want to listen to that. Why don’t they just take their lust to the bedroom, like they have done on previous occasions? The kitchen is no place for their shenanigans! And since she has no attention for me, I prefer them to leave. Irritation has now mixed with the panic. I feel sick, and even more so when I hear her next words.

“Oh yes, please, do it right here!”

Here? What? Has she really just said that? No please, not here. I can’t handle that. I refuse to look at them. I don’t want to see what he does to her. He takes up too much of her time, and makes her forget about important things, such as me!

A shiver runs through me. No! No, no, no! They cannot do it here. I dare to look at them and in horror I watch them kiss. Her bottom pushes against the table. I shiver once more, not from fear, but her bumping against the table. Their kisses are passionate, frantic, full of unbridled lust. The man stops kissing her, and smiles down at her. His fingers are on her upper thighs, walking her skirt up higher and pushing it up over her hips. He lifts her onto the table in one smooth movement, and I shiver again.

I cast a quick look on the abyss. Am I closer to it? Or is that only my imagination? It sure looks closer. Another shiver. An intense feeling of relief takes hold of me.

Yes! Oh yes! I’m moving away from the abyss. Oh thank god! Please, let them bump against the table again! I glance over to where she’s now on the the table, on her back, her legs spread wide, her knees bent. She watches as her lover slowly pulls down his fly and pulls out his cock.

I try not to look, but I’m too desperate for them to bump the table again so I can move towards safety a bit more. He holds his cock in his hand, slowly stroking it, while he looks down at her.

“You want to be fucked?”
“Yes,” she gasps, “yes!”
“How bad do you want it?”
“Please, please just fuck me!”

He steps forward, pushing against the table again. Yes! I move further away from the edge of the table. This is good, this is going to save me. I watch as he slams his hard cock into her wet pussy. Okay, technically I can’t see either his cock or her pussy, let alone know that she was wet. I just assume that’s how it should be. I’ve seen some things in my days. He pulls back and enters again. Each time he pushes into her, I move further away from the abyss. This is going to end well. Almost there, almost safe! Relief floods through me.

“Oh yes,” she moans, “fuck me harder.”
“As you wish,” the man says.

Constant vibrations run through the table, moving me even further towards the middle of it. I’m starting to feel safe again. Saved. Rescued. Everything will be okay.

“Oh fuck, yes! Harder! Fuck me deep! Yes! Harder. Harder!”

She’s talking constantly now, and the more she asks, the harder he fucks her. I watch and then… horror!

In slow motion, I see her arm moving towards me. She strikes me hard, sending me flying across the table, and over the edge. I’m falling, oh no, I’m…

“What was that?” he asks, the sound of breaking glass surprising him.
“Oh bummer, just a glass. Don’t stop! Fuck me!”

© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay

27 thoughts on “Just a glass

  1. It works really well in present tense – always meant to be i think. I too like writing from the POV of an object – my first micro monday will be just that
    May xx

  2. Oh Fabuloso, trepidante, muy excitante, es una maravilla de escrito.
    Nunca pensé que una copa de cristal tuviera tales visiones.
    Creo que seguiré follando más a menudo en la cocina.

  3. Another amazing story Marie! Love how you tied it all.together and especially how you use the glass to show how much force is put into each thrust. Bravo!

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