New Flash Fiction by Peter Baltensperger

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Editor’s note: this post is obviously an old post brought back to the front page.  Enjoy.

It’s time to showcase the work of a guest writer.  This is the second piece by this writer to be published in the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  Hello hello hello, my brother and sister bloggers, writers and Flash Fiction Fanatics.

The month of August is coming to an end.  But it’s been a good month of blogging for the Old Soldier.  I published new writers, signed up new subscribers and increased the readership of The Gazette, the most dynamic flash fiction blog on the Internet.

Remember, the writing contest ends on October 1, 2010.  Get your story in as soon as possible.

Now for our feature presentation.

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Heat Wave

It was one of those stifling hot summer evenings when not even the air conditioner brought much relief, nor the fan in the bedroom window. Alicia was sprawled out on the king-size four-poster bed, watching the large-screen TV up on the wall. She had her legs spread out and her negligee pulled up to the top of her thighs to catch at least some of the circulating air from the fan, her pale breasts nestled into the lacy silk of her top. She moaned every time the fan wafted some air over her body, periodically adjusting her body on the bed. 

Jeremy was lying naked beside her, coping with the heat in his own way, only one eye on the TV, the other on the luscious body sprawled out beside him. After a while, the temptation of his half-naked wife became too much for him, despite the heat. He turned over on his side and reached for her breast. Alicia sighed deliciously as soon as he touched her, as she always did. She loved having her breasts in his hands. Jeremy quickly slid his hand underneath the silky material and let it come to rest against the luscious globe. Alicia moaned as her proud nipple hardened against the palm of his hand. 

“Aren’t you too hot for this?” she sighed. 

“I’m never too hot for this,” Jeremy parried. 

“Of course you’re not,” Alicia smiled. “You never are.” 

With that, she lifted her body slightly towards him, pressing her breast again his hand and moaning deeply with satisfaction and desire. 

“You make me feel so good,” she whispered against his cheek. 

Jeremy let go of her hot breast and slid his hand down over the sensuous gown and down over her bare thigh, then slowly up the soft inside of her thigh, a trembling snake slithering towards a delectable morsel, closer and closer each time without ever quite touching the treasure. 

“Stop teasing!” Alicia moaned. “I can’t stand this anymore.” 

“You like it when I do this,” Jeremy reminded her. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, no,” Alicia protested. “Don’t stop. Of course I like it when you do that. But I do want to feel your hand on me.” 

Jeremy let his hand glide up and down her thigh a few more times, teasingly, promisingly, coming dangerously close to his ultimate destination, until Alicia bucked against his hand and he grabbed her dripping vagina, like a thirst-stricken traveler grabbing a long-desired bottle of nectar. 

Alicia groaned deep down inside her being and pushed her aching pelvis against his desperately awaited hand. He took hold of her with determination, rubbing her diligently, expertly, until she pressed herself against him and started to tremble with the onset of her orgasm. Jeremy intensified his ministrations, moved his index finger to her clit, and teased it and fondled and massaged it until he could feel the rush of fulfillment take hold of her body and she screamed through a delicious, all-encompassing orgasm. 

Jeremy gave her a few minutes to ride out the aftershocks and catch her breath, then climbed on top of her and easily slid into her well-lubricated opening. He could feel her interior muscles tighten around him as she sighed with deep pleasure and sucked him further and further into herself. Within a few minutes, she heaved her pelvis against his, and he squirted into her at the same time as her orgasmic contractions sucked at him and drained him of his treasure. 

They cried out together as they grabbed at each other and flung their arms around one another, two people drowning in the throes of absolute pleasure, and rocked against each other in the fantastic delirium of their simultaneous release. He stayed on top of her for a while, both gasping for breath, feeling their hearts beat against the other, moaning and groaning unabashedly in the afterglow of their union. Then he rolled off her and they sprawled out on the bed beside each other, their fingers entwined, their rapidly beating hearts echoing their individual rhythms. 

The heat didn’t matter anymore at all. 

The End

Bio: Peter Baltensperger is a Canadian writer of Swiss origin and the author of ten books of various genres. His work has appeared in several hundred publications around the world. His erotic stories, poems, and essays have been widely published in print as well as on-line, including The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Sex in the City, Paris, Clean Sheets, The Erotic Woman, Oysters and Chocolate, and Black Heart Magazine.

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Here Are Five Love Stories For The Weekend

Yes, when a man loves a woman and a woman loves a man all kinds of things can happen.  Will the couple be happy or sad?  What about starting a family?  What about career choices?  Love like life is never smooth.  Whether the city is Pittsburgh or Paris, there will always be lovers. 

When a flash fiction, micro-fiction, mini-fiction, hint fiction, very short story or postcard fiction writer writes about love, he or she has to capture that moment when a couple make a decision that will change the direction of their love.  Writing about love is never easy.  Especially when the story has to be told in a few hundred words.  The good news is, it can be done.

Here for your reading pleasure is: True Love, This Man and This Woman in Love, Tainted Love, Love Hurts and Woman, Wife and Lover.

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Hemingway is my favorite writer and of course I’ve read everything of his that I could get my hands on.  I’ve read most of his novels, short stories and non-fiction several times.  I’m not bragging, just blogging the facts.  I read “A Movable Feast” several times.  The book was about Hemingway’s life in Paris when he was young and learning to write.

The way he felt about Paris is the way I feel about Pittsburgh.  It is a fine American city with plenty of culture, commerce and spots.  It has several distinct ethnic neighborhoods.  It has my memories of my own youth.  The city was backdrop to my stories and flash fiction when I was a young man.  It is the backdrop of my very short stories now that I’m an old man.

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