Poetry: I Want To Eat Your Pussy

Your eyes follow me

I suck on your clitoris

Soon comes your first moan

*****

The Old Soldier thought he would end the year with a haiku and a salute to women.

How’s everyone doing?  It’s around noon in Pittsburgh.  The Old Soldier does not do the New Year’s Eve party routine.  Too many crazy people.  So, I’m going to go out for a six-pack of beer, come back and eat, do a little blogging and see if there is anything good on television.  Plus I have a couple of good books to read that I checked out from the public library.

*****

Last night was not so good.  There was no karaoke at Sonny’s Tavern and the DJ at Del’s could not get the words up on the monitor.  So I left.

I did pass out some Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette business cards at Sonny’s to two guys.  But waking up this morning I realized that I should be passing out business cards to women.  Women like the PFF Gazette’s mixture of serious writing and brazen sexuality.  Women make up the majority of the readers of this magazine.  There is also another reason.  Some time in 2012 I want to start featuring nude women of Pittsburgh in the PFF Gazette.

So when I pass out a business card to a woman I not only get a potential reader and guest writer.  I also get a potential nude model.

Read.  Study.  Write.

Fiction: The Porn Industry by Guy Hogan

The two women were not related. They sat on the sofa and watched an adult entertainment DVD on the HDTV on the wall. One woman was nineteen. The other woman was thirty-one. Both were dressed in party dresses, pantyhose and high heels. They wore makeup and their hair was carefully done. The living room they sat in was in Pittsburgh in a house that could easily sell on the market even in 2011 for $800,000. The two women watched the DVD.

The DVD showed a large, well furnished room with several men and women naked having an orgy. The camera showed a shot of a woman on her hands and knees, her eyes closed, a man on his knees in front of her thrusting his big hard-on in and out of her mouth while another man was on his knees behind her thrusting his big hard-on into her vagina.

There was a shot of a woman on her knees cradling her large breasts in her crossed arms as the cum of several men masturbating splashed across her breasts.

There was a shot of a woman on a low table on her back as a man ate her out while another man on his knees over her head plunged his swollen meat in and out of her mouth as she masturbated. Cum began to pour out of her mouth.

There was a shot of a woman on a sofa on her back pressing her breasts together as a huge, hard penis thrusted between her breasts. Cum started shooting out of the penis hitting her on her chin and neck.

There was a shot of a woman on a sofa on top of a man and another man on his knees behind her and as the camera zoomed in closer the viewer could see one of the men’s hard meat going in and out of her vagina and the other man’s hard meat going in and out of her butt.

There was a shot of the cum of several men masturbating splashing on the face of a woman with her eyes closed as she caught some of the cum in her wide open mouth.

There was a shot of a woman on her back on the floor with her legs wide apart as another woman plunged a dildo in and out of the woman’s vagina, the dildo plunging woman sucking on the other woman’s breasts.

There was a closeup shot of a woman’s face as she looked up into the camera, her head bobbing away as she gave head to a huge hard-on. Cum began to pour out of her mouth. She smiled and rubbed the cum dripping penis all over her face.

There was a shot of a woman sitting in a chair, a guy standing behind her massaging her swollen breasts, milk spraying from her nipples.

There was a wide-angle shot, the camera showing once again that all of these things were going on in the same large room at the same time accompanied by a sound track full of loud sexual moans and groans.

The DVD ended. The younger woman got up and walked over to the large picture window. It was a beautiful, sunny morning in Pittsburgh and the lawn out front was green, well cared for and seemed to go on forever.

The older woman sitting on the sofa said, “It’s up to you. I’ve made my money.  I have a few investments.  I’m getting a degree in finance.  I do porn when I want to. Not because I have to. All the men have been checked out. You won’t catch anything.  Just have a good time.  Enjoy yourself.  No guilt and no shame.  These guys are really nice.  I wouldn’t bring you along if these guys weren’t nice.  And the money’s fantastic.”

“It’s just that I always thought I’d meet a nice guy and get married, you know?”

“Well, honey, it’s a nice dream. It doesn’t always happen that way. Make the money. You can be sorry when you’re rich and an old woman. Melanie Carter is going to be there.”

The younger woman turned to stare at the older woman. “Melanie Carter from Penn Hills High? She wanted to be a nun.”

“She’s on her way to becoming a big star.”

“All right. Okay. I’ll do it.”

“One thing.”

“Yes?”

“When they cum on your face,” the older woman said, “keep your eyes closed. They cum in your eyes and you might have to go to the hospital.”

“How would I explain that?”

“Oh, the doctor I had to see. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t surprised at all.  Well, let’s go.  We don’t want to be late.”

The End

Photography: A Black Woman In Pantyhose

This Is Some Of My Old Photography Shot With A Disposable Camera In My Apartment

There are a lot of photos of women on this blog.  Some of the women are naked and some are not naked.  Some are famous and some are not famous.  Of course, the Old Soldier uses these photos to get more people to visit the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  The photos bring in men and the photos bring in women.

Men and women seem to like the photos.  The photo included in this post is one of the most popular photos on this blog.

*****

The Submissions tab for flash fiction is at the top of the page.

Chillin’ At Sonny’s Tavren Before The Steelers Game

Some Of My Old Amateur Photography

It’s around 7:00 in the evening and the Old Soldier has some fish in hot olive oil in a pan on the stove and he has just come back from Sonny’s Tavern a few blocks away and he is waiting for the Steelers game which begins at 8:20.  Teresa ( I hope I spelled her name right) was behind the bar and Joy came in and Paul, one of the owners was there and Debbie, one of the bartenders, was there.  Matt also strolled in.  There were a few other people there too but I didn’t know their names.

Well the bar is small and across the bar Paul and I got into a discussion about the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  He was skeptical of my claim that the majority of the readers of this blog are female, especially because of all the sexuality and female nudity here.

My argument was that women have no problem with sexuality and female nudity.  They like sex and it’s their bodies.  The blog celebrates female sexuality and nudity; but I think the main reasons that women like this blog is that it is serious about blogging and writing and life and events in the news and it does not put down women for their sexuality.

This blog celebrates female sexuality.  “Celebrates” is the operative word here.

*****

The Submissions tab for flash fiction is at the top of the page.  Your story does not have to be about sex.  It can be a literary, romance or mainstream story.

Why Do Women Like This Sex Blog?

The majority of the readers of this blog are women.  How does the Old Soldier know this?  There are sites on the internet that will break down your readership if you give these sites the URL of your blog.  I use Alexa.

So, why do women read this sex blog?  Here’s my theory.  There is a lot more going on in the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette than just sex.

There are commentaries on life and the world we live in.  Right now, the Old Soldier is keeping tabs on the Occupy Movement.  There are articles on blogging and writing flash fiction, something the Old Soldier knows a lot about.  There is a lot of well-written fiction on this blog; and most of the fiction has nothing to do with sex.

Then of course there is the sex.  Well, women like sex as much as men do.  In other words, women read this blog because of the content and good writing.  That’s why women read this sex blog.

*****

The Submissions tab for flash fiction is at the top of the page.

What Goes Through A Woman’s Mind During A Gangbang?

Three young women

Image via Wikipedia

Of course, for the vast majority of women, voluntarily participating in a gangbang is beyond comprehension; but for some women it is not.

This is 2011.  This is the age of the internet.  Porn is easy to obtain.  Women watch porn.  They see other women in porn.  Sex is everywhere.

Women no longer hide their sexuality.  They are no longer embarrassed by wanting sex.  At least a lot of women feel this way, especially young women.

Young women love experimenting with their sexuality.  They experiment with oral and woman on woman sex.  To a lot of young women sex is just sex, no big deal.  Some even experiment with the gangbang.

Years ago, one of my sisters, when she was a teenager, said to me that she would like to be in a porn movie.  That was before she got married and became respectable; but I think a lot of young women would do things in their teens and twenties that they would never consider doing when they get older.

Personally, I have always been a fan of nice young women who cross the line and do the gangbang.

I’m old now; but when I was young I had sex with two female students at Point Park University (then Point Park College) here in Pittsburgh in their dormitory room.  Afterwards, did I feel guilty?  Of course not.

And I don’t think that a lot of young women who have sex with more than one man at the same time feel guilty, either.  Some of my favorite porn videos on the internet are the gangbang.  I’m talking about the online, legit porn sites that actually pay the young women to have sex on camera.  This one site only uses amateurs, a lot of them college students.  So when they have an orgasm it’s for real.  These young women are not actresses.

As far as I can tell, these young women allow themselves to be gangbanged for the money, because they like sex and because they consider being in a porn video hot.  After all that sucking and fucking they usually report having several orgasms.  And from all the noise that a lot of them make, you believe it.

So, I wrote a sex story about a young woman who is gangbanged and loves it.  The story is not so much about sex as it is about the state of mind of a nice young woman who loses all of her sex inhibitions.

Ladies, you know what I’m talking about.

*****

Donna Lee’s First Gangbang

Donna Lee and her friends were celebrating their last finals as seniors at the University of Pittsburgh. Donna had already accepted a full-time position with benefits as a Patient Relations Representative at one of the hospitals in the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center system. Donna was determined to get very drunk.

After several hours of drinking Donna’s best friend Mary Carter and several other classmates left the bar. Left to party on was Donna, Jeff Howling, Bob Springfield, Tim Shaffer, Mike McCormick, Ron Nolan and Frank Mulligan. The bartender called last call.

“If you guys buy the beer,” Donna said, “we can party at my place.”

Three hours later, Donna realized she was naked, on her back on the low table in her livingroom, her head hanging over the end of the table and all the guys were naked, too. The guys were kissing every inch of her body, their hands all over her. Someone got over her face on his knees. When she saw his huge, hard manhood she automatically opened her mouth. The huge penis slid into her mouth and she closed her eyes. Her head bobbed with the thrusting of his penis.

Someone opened her legs wide and started eating her out. The hard meat kept plunging in and out of her mouth. The guy eating her out knew what he was doing. She was so wet. She was so wet. Oh, she was so wet. Someone was sucking on her left breast. Someone was sucking on her right breast. She could feel her nipples rise up, hard and proud.

Cum began gushing into her mouth. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. When the soft penis was taken out of her mouth another hard, fat one slid in. She sucked and sucked and sucked.

She felt her legs being raised and rested on someone’s shoulders. Then a hard meat began to slowly slide in and out of her vagina. Donna reached between her legs and began massaging her clitoris. So good. So good, she thought. Oh, so good.

She felt her mouth filling with warm cum. She moaned and started cumming herself.  It was the deepest orgasm she’d had in her life. She kept masturbating. She couldn’t get enough. Another hard meat slid into her mouth. She moaned and sucked greedily. Whoever was thrusting in her vagina began cumming. She felt warm liquid splashing on her breasts and stomach. Realizing the guys were masturbating on her, that their cum was splashing on her she felt her excitement building, building, building and oh she was cumming again. She couldn’t believe it. She was cumming again. Oh it felt so good. So good. So good.

Cum gushed into her mouth. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. Another hard penis slid into her vagina. Another hard penis slid into her mouth. She wanted more. She needed more. Oh, she thought, please please please more. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please please please don’t stop. Another orgasm began to build in her. It was going to be deep. It was going to be powerful. She kept masturbating. The guy in her vagina started cumming.  The guy in her mouth started cumming.  Donna’s body began rocking with an orgasm so strong she thought she was going to die from pleasure…

Donna awoke alone on the floor, her entire body and face sticky from dry cum. Daybreak peeked through the curtains. Donna felt strangely very happy. Released. Released from all her worries. Re-born. She forced herself to get up. She made her way to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and used mouth wash. She used the toilet. She took a long, hot shower. She dried herself with a fluffy white towel and rubbed an expensive body lotion over her body. She put on a new, white terry-cloth bathrobe. She went to the living room, sat on the sofa and used her cell phone to call her best friend, Mary.

After several rings Mary said, “Donna, do you know what time it is?”

“I think I’m in trouble.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

“Jeff, Bob, Tim, Mike, Frank and Ron stayed over last night.”

“Oh, Donna! Did they…did they…”

“They didn’t have to. And I loved it. I mean I really, really loved it.”

“Donna, that’s disgusting. That is so disgusting. It’s disgusting to let men use you like that. That only happens in those movies.”

“Last night I was in one of those movies. I was the star. It’s just that no one was filming.”

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Madonna: Justify My Love

Madonna in the controversial music video for &...

Image via Wikipedia

Remember the old Justify My Love video by Madonna?

Hotel hallway.  All virgin white.  A bleach blonde in a black trench coat and high heels.  She drops her suitcase and leans against the wall.  A strange man in a suit walks by.  She sways.  She opens the trench coat.  Underneath a black bra, panties and stockings.

She gets on her knees in front of him.  Wanting.  Needing.

The two cannot keep their hand off of each other.  In the other rooms.  Couples.  Half nude.  Wanting.  Needing.  Kissing.  Fondling.  Panting.  Stockings.  Panties.  Bras.  Suspenders.  Pillows.  Bodies.  Men and women.  Women and women…

Sexy Stories tab at the top of the page.

Fiction: Spit Or Swallow by Jennifer Donnell

A bagel with raisin and cinnamon

Image via Wikipedia

I spit in the sink, hoping I missed the unwashed dishes- it just doesn’t seem sanitary.  You pull up your pants, about to hightail it out of my apartment. I can tell you’re great at leaving, you have an ease in your step as you prepare to go.

“It was good,” you compliment, casually. You hope giving kudos will create a return ticket back to my bed, though your loins want my mouth more than my body. You don’t call it a fetish, as it’s what normal people do. They pick up women at a bagel store and invite them to tea. Then, suggest martinis and kiss like they’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places and long to settle down.

You made nice at first, when you made love. You stared deep into my eyes and talked about the blue of them being like an ocean. In truth, you saw a storm which scared you. I seemed cloudy, as though I saw through your act. This was humbling, it usually took women several months. Immediately you asked how I knew.

“It was nothing specific.” I explain, glad to have it out in the open. “First, your name is Dave- and every Dave I’ve ever met has played women like fiddles. Not all Daves are like that, but the ones I’ve met have been. Then, there’s the fact that you ordered twelve cinnamon raisin bagels. What man do you know who would rather have cinnamon raisin when they sell onion or sesame? You were trying too hard, I knew it right away. At tea you kept fidgeting and didn’t stop until you suggested martinis. On top of that, you picked a bar that was near enough to my place that you wouldn’t have to waste money on a cab.”

You’re floored by my description. It’s like I aired your internal banter through a mega phone. We stop making fake love and switch to straight up, old fashion sex. We move from the bed to the kitchen floor. It feels better though less fulfilling. You pin my hands against the  flooring and tell me to scream your name. I try, but after so many bad experiences with men named Dave, all I can shout is “David, you motherfucker!”

You generally like dirty talk, but that particular phrase, motherfucker, just doesn’t sit right. Your grandmother always called you David. You don’t usually introduce dirty talk to one night stands, but if you happen to see a girl more than once, you usually call her a slut and see how she takes it. Motherfucker makes you mad though, mad enough that you call me a bitch.

“You called me a bitch, bitch?” I counter flipping onto all fours and waving my derriere in the air, like my naked body is now off limits. “Well, at least I’m not a cheesy ho-bag who wears a fucking plaid shirt and brown tennis shoes. What, did you borrow your daddy’s clothes?”

You tell me your dad is dead. I’m not sure it’s true, but you look kind of sad about it, and I apologize. You work the magic of your hands on me, in apology. Grateful for the orgasm, not thinking straight, I offer to service you in other ways.

Only problem is, I just read a newspaper article, the day before, about the dangers of unprotected oral sex. I look from your face to your penis, to the newspaper on the living room coffee table. I decide that one more time won’t hurt. However, it does hurt, as the whole time I’m pleasuring you, I’m envisioning myself at the clinic getting a free HIV test. It’s stressful trying to find the one.

It’s stressful for you too, always pursuing new women to sleep with. You don’t get much credit for it. If people knew how much work you put into your conquests, they’d be impressed.

We exchange phone numbers. You kiss me goodbye, on the cheek. It’s formal, polite. You accidentally leave your bag of fresh baked cinnamon raisin bagels. I toast one until it’s crisp and apply a slather of cream cheese. I enjoy the flavor. I swallow it down.

The End 

Jennifer Donnell is originally from Southern California. Her recent and/or upcoming publishing credits include: Pure Slush, The Scrambler, Bohemia Journal, Sapling, Speech Therapy Poetry, Borderline, Young American Poets, Orion Headless, SIC 3, The Scarlet Sound, Don’t Blame the Ugly Mug (Anthology- Tebot Bach), Poetix, The November 3rd Club, Bestiary Magazine, The Criterion, Astarte, Deep Tissue Magazine, East Village Poetry, A Few Lines Magazine, Artistica, Negative Suck, Perhaps I Am Wrong About The World (Upcoming), and a winner (poetry) through the city of Laguna Beach- 2009, 2010, 2011. She is currently seeking to publish her first full length collection of poetry, and is nearing completion on a graphic novel.  http://ilovejenx.com

Recharge Your Creative Writing Batteries

To those of you who do not know about the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette, I would like to introduce myself and my blog.

I am the Old Soldier, the editor and publisher of this blog.  I call myself the Old Soldier because I’m 65 years old and a Vietnam War veteran.  I got my BA in fiction writing from the University of Pittsburgh in 2003 and my MFA in 2006 from the University of Pittsburgh, too.  Flash fiction is my genre of choice.

This blog represents a labor of love.  Before I retired, I always worked for someone else.  Now that I’m retired, I work for myself as a full-time blogger.

This blog is the Playboy Magazine for short story writers.  Women make up the largest part of its readership.  It has articles on blogging and writing and commentaries on news events and on life and the world we live in.  Sex is an important part of the editorial content.  The target reader of this blog is the aspiring writer.

Oh, I didn’t mention that I publish a lot of flash fiction, my own and that of other writers. 

Welcome to the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette, the most dynamic flash fiction publication on the internet.

*****

If you are a writer, I would like to publish you.  The Submissions tab for flash fiction is at the top of the page.

The Mayday Malone Principle by Matthew Vento

Sam Malone

Image via Wikipedia

One may ask what the “Mayday Malone Principle” is? Sam Malone was a bartender on the NBC hit series Cheers back in the 80s and early 90s. “Mayday” was the nickname given to him in his so-called Major League Baseball playing days. “Mayday” was a smooth ladies man who never seemed to be short on dates. Beautiful and the not so beautiful would flock to him. Was it because of his so-called career in baseball or was it because he owned a bar?
 
Bar owners have a certain mystique that surrounds them. Most everyone who comes into a bar judges the place and critiques the owner. Why does he sell these drafts? Who picked the color scheme? Why did he lay out the bar in this fashion?  Etc…Women tend to be a bit more judgmental than men. Why, I have no idea why but when I go to bars I analyze the layout and theme myself. I  guess it’s human nature to do so.
 
Back to the “Mayday Malone Principle”.  For some strange reason there is a certain type of woman who finds bar owners very intriguing. These women come in all shapes and sizes both young and old and also from all classes of society. The women know what they want and go out of their way to flirt and pursue bar owners. Whether the owner is married or single, the women have one thing in mind. How am I going to get the owner in bed? The lengths that some of these women would go to are incredible. They range from bringing home cooked meals to actually flashing owners and groping them.  Personal experiences with me are and were women walking into the men’s room while I was going to the bathroom, wandering into my office in the basement, walking into my kitchen flashing me and the ever so clever just grabbing my crotch and telling me at the bar that they would like to screw my brains out. 
 
 All encounters start with harmless flirtation on both the owner’s and customer’s part. More often than not it leads to a sexual encounter. It’s scary for an ordinary looking guy such as myself having this occur to me. At first it was a little scary and then it became common place and now it’s a pain-in-the-ass. In the first year of owning my little dive bar I went through over 40 women.  A lot of them knew each other, a lot of them were friends. I found out that they would talk to each other about their encounters with me. The more I tried to end the “Mayday Malone Principle” the harder the women tried.  I found out that not paying attention to them fueled the fire inside of them more and more. The more I resisted the crazier they got. My second year I slept with over 60 women. I could have slept with a bunch more but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was tired of living this lifestyle, the thrill wasn’t worth the new-found headaches that it caused. It’s also not good for business, lesson learned.
 
With the Old Soldier’s permission, I shall submit one new encounter every month starting with the soon to be written “Stripper’s, Booze and Tap Handles” a dive bar owner’s tale……..
 
*****
 
The author is a shot and beer small Tavern owner. He has been in business for over 14 years at the same location. He is middle-aged but lives life like a 22-year-old. 

Fiction: Alexander’s Party by Jack Kelley

A Spanish guitar (Classical guitar)

Image via Wikipedia

Alexander’s party; five months since we’d last spoken . . . The lights
low, swirling, turning, Antonio whizzed Marguerite – youthful, coy,
something more there, possibly not good – around the center of the
room as Spanish guitar rippled in the background. In his arms she was
a child who grew plaintive, but revealed a hint of excitement when his
hand slapped hold of her hindquarters, hoisting her to one shoulder.
“Eeek!” She let out, and was returned safely to earth, never a chance
harm would’ve befallen her.

Antonio Perino: a visionary of sorts, though not with words so much as
style. Tonight was the first we’d met, Alexander proclaiming him a
fellow traveler, an appreciator of women, wine and song. He knew the
good old ways of the earth and sensuality too: dance, joyous partying,
drunken relaxation and hash afternoons. Antonio drove around a van
filled with Italian beer, somehow promoting it through an unknown
combination of street smarts, lackadaisical hustle and smooth-talking.
The man could dance alone or with a crowd or with a beautiful woman
and unspeaking, svelte, coax sensuality from her as he’d begun to do
with Marguerite. I watched in astonishment as she suddenly threw off
the cover of respectability and began to sashay and sway, hidden
beauty now fully evident.

Slumped down on the couch not far from me was Alexander, a great
pillar of strength, though smaller by far than the Italian or myself.
Once, he and I had run through streets inseparable like foolish young
Kerouackian seekers after truth. In those years we’d been two burning
beacons, instigators, wise beyond years, absurd beyond words, writing
melancholy tales, seducing, dashing headlong through the City, two
poets and drinkers of life’s bitter, sweet glass down to the dregs.
Then, well . . . something happened. Our unity dissolved and each man
struggled alone once more, no unconscious sense of teamwork and trust
where once the thoughts of those things had not been necessary. It was
cold times now. But despite the distance, the wall between us, once
more we found ourselves marching through the same battlefields, though
each with independence of perspective gained from years of struggling
alone, without friends capable of entirely understanding, and with
families and romances deteriorated and broken and gone. For Alexander
it came down to this: he now saw he was mortal and this drove him
through torments of an indescribable nature. He was a man getting wet
in the rain in a different way than he had gotten wet in that same
rain before, and this crossed and befuddled him.

We sank deeper into the old second-hand couch. Alexander spoke with
verve and wisdom now of Saturn shifting, realigning in the
astrological realm. In the dimly-lit dance floor scene unfolding before
us, I felt those stars and heavens at work. To my right, the French
Actress, Valerie, smoked thin cigarettes in a posture of complete
ease, yet seemed unable to forget entirely her beauty and performance.
A moment later she was up, dancing with the young French-American I
disliked. They were not lovers, yet he danced with her insistently, a
dragon guarding treasure – gold he can never spend. Valerie’s natural
performance evolved from dancing with him to mostly dancing by herself
in the midst of the half-empty floor, coquettishly mincing, swaying
with abrupt, dainty kicks. Her body was thin, lithe, strong but not
muscular. Something about it held a familiarity that I tried to
ignore. “She fits here in Brooklyn far more than in Manhattan,”
Alexander said. I agreed. We watched her, all in black, kick off
bright green leather heels to move with ever more impressive control
and feminine savvy over her own body.

Marguerite returned and sat between us with raised eyebrow. “Hallo,
boys – why you two looking so glum?” Instead of answering, I nodded
toward the floor. “I like her dancing style,” I said, turning in time
to see a graceful leap performed with the aid of the French-American’s
hand. “It’s hypnotic . . .” With another drink, Valerie’s resemblance
to Alexander’s former mistress grew stronger; hints of that strange
night of sexual abandon three years past became almost pungent in my
nostrils . . . I glanced over and Alexander caught my eye. Turning to
stare down at the stained suede of the couch with rapid heartbeats, I
swore to myself I had not known they were together when it happened.

The End

*******************

Bio: Jack Kelley lives in Brooklyn.

One Hour In A Topless Bar

Acrylic platform shoes.

Image via Wikipedia

Of course, bars like The Cricket are no longer called topless bars.  And the dancers are not topless dancers but exotic dancers and they get totally naked.  They shave their vaginas.  The Cricket is a few blocks from my apartment in Oakland in Pittsburgh.

My 62-year-old brother, I’m 64, flew in from California because our mother is recovering in Shadyside Hospital after falling in the bath tub.  Mom lives with our 72-year-old sister and her 80-year-old husband.  Yes, the Old Soldier must face the fact that he is an old man; but since nothing hurts and I’m a full-time blogger, life is all right.  And when my military pension kicks in later this year life will be even better.

So, last night Lloyd takes me to The Cricket.  We watch the young, naked women strut around the stage in platform shoes.  Sometimes they would slide down one of the dance poles upside down, their legs wrapped around the pole and their arms spread wide.  The lights were low.  There was sports on the TVs.  The women who were not on stage chatted up the customers, all male.

It was a Monday night.  The place was not busy.  Lloyd and I sat at a table next to the roomy stage.  The cover charge was $5.00 and the beer was $4.40 a bottle.  Lloyd paid for everything.  We did not stay long.

He and I talked about Mom.  One of the naked, young women sat next to Lloyd.  She sat next to the right person.  I had no money.  She gave him a sob story: going to school, working during the day, no husband, two kids and dancing at night. 

He put two or three dollars on the stage during her act as we were leaving.  Lloyd got a big coffee at the store next door and we sat in his rented car and talked about Mom and life.  He’s married and he loves theater.  He gave me enough money to get a six-pack of beer today.  I wonder what he thinks about his older brother being what we use to call a “free loader,” someone who never has money and let’s other people pay his way?

Keep reading and keep writing that flash fiction.

Ladies, Why Do Men Love It When You Suck Their Dicks?

Three young women

Image via Wikipedia

This is a serious topic.  Ladies, you know what I’m talking about.  How many of you have sucked a man and swallowed his cum?…I thought so.  You ever wonder why the men you suck love it so much?  The Old Soldier is here to illuminate the subject.

Thrusting my hard, swollen manhood into the mouth of a willing woman is now only a fading memory.  But why women do it, why some seemed compelled to do it, has always fascinated me.

A lot of men think that sucking and swallowing is so nasty.  I use to think that too; but I was thinking as a man.  It was not until I got much older and could think about sucking and swallowing from a woman’s point of view that I could better understand why some women not only do it but they feel compelled to do it and they love doing it.

I think young women do it because they think that’s what’s expected of them, that it’s part of having sex with a man and they really get turned on by it.  There is no doubt about that.  These women not only get turned on by sucking and swallowing but they get excited by having the man cum on their bodies, the face, breasts and stomach being the most popular body parts.

I think as a woman gets older she uses sucking and swallowing as a way of getting and holding a man; and this is what is exciting to her about sucking a man.  It’s her sexual power that turns her on.

When sex is no longer new or a means of cementing a relationship, in other words the thrill is gone, a woman’s cocksucking days are usually over.

But while she is in her cocksucking period, it is a wonderful time to be the man in her life.

And why do we men love it when you women suck our dicks and swallow our cum?  In our minds it means that we must be hot if you are that nasty.

*****

Adult Conversation by Guy Hogan

My name is Josh Miller. Gina Davis is my friend. Not the actress. Gina my friend is no actress. We’re in our thirties and have been friends since childhood.

I sat with my friend in a bar, Hemingway’s, a few blocks from the Cathedral of Learning of the University of Pittsburgh. The lunch crowd had cleared out and the late afternoon crowd had not arrived yet so she and I pretty much had the place to ourselves. We had just gotten our third pitcher of beer. The Pirates were on two of the four big screen TVs and a sports-news broadcast was on the other two. My friend and I sat at a table for two against the wall under all the framed snap shots of former customers. Gina and I were waiting for our barbecue wings and blue cheese dressing.

Gina said, “What’s with all you guys about giving head? Every guy I’ve ever gone out with, the first thing he wanted to do was to stick it in my mouth. These days the first thing a man wants a woman to do is suck him off.”

“Do you give head?”

“Sure I give head. Lots of women don’t but lots of women do. And to tell you the truth I like giving head. But there’s more to sex then giving head.”

“Do you swallow?”

“If I’m going to do all that work getting him and myself all hot and bothered you bet I’m going to swallow.”

Our wings came. We ate our wings and finished our beer, paid, left a tip and walked outside into the late afternoon warm sunshine.

I said, “Why haven’t you ever given me head?”

“Josh, dear, I wouldn’t want to ruin a beautiful friendship. Bye bye.”

“Bye, Gina.”

The End

Here is the link to a flash fiction story that I wrote about a young woman who felt compelled to suck dick and she loved it:  A Young Woman’s Lust

Fiction: Pornography by Guy Hogan

Britney Love 

The screening room was on Oakland Avenue in the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh only a few blocks from the Cathedral of Learning of the University of Pittsburgh. The screening room seated 60 people. Only two people now sat side by side in the dark in the screening room, a director and producer. On the screen an orgy was taking place.Thirty nude people were in what looked to be a lavish banquet room. Several men and women were helping themselves to food from a table full of fruit, cheese, ham, ribs, bread and cold cuts. There were also bottles of beer and small wine bottles in ice buckets on the table. The men and women put the food on their plates. Other men and women were having sex in different places of the large room. All of the men were studs and all of the women were foxes.

“Which one is she?” the producer said to the director.

“Here’s a close up of her now.”

The camera zoomed in on the face of this beautiful young woman. A large, hard penis was in her mouth. Her wonderful blue eyes looked up at the man who was in her mouth. Her blonde hair came down softly on her shoulders. Anyone watching could see the lust on her face. She was enjoying sucking the man and enjoyed that a camera was recording her sucking the man.

“How old is she?” the producer said.

“Nineteen.”

“This her first film?”

“She did some stuff herself on the Internet. You know. Videos. Stripping. Pole dancing naked. Using dildos on herself. But this is her first full length feature. She’s a sophomore at Pitt.”

“No kidding. What’s her name?”

“She goes by Britney. Britney Love. She’s got a thing for Britney Spears.”

“She’s not unstable is she?”

“Oh, no. She’s very serious. Very professional.”

On the screen the man pulled out of Britney’s mouth. She kept her mouth wide open as the man stroked his meat. She looked up at him as his cum started shooting into her mouth.

“Nice teeth,” the producer said.

“Her parents have money.”

“Do they know?”

“Not yet.”

Britney didn’t swallow the man’s cum but let it pour out of her mouth and down her chin. Another hard, large penis slid into her mouth. For the first time the camera drew back and the viewer could see that Britney was on her hands and knees on the floor. Her large breasts bounced with the man plunging his meat in her mouth.

“Nice tits,” the producer said.

“They’re real. They’re hers.”

Right behind Britney a woman sat in a chair and a man stood behind the woman massaging her swollen, heavy breasts. Every time the man squeezed the woman’s swollen breasts milk sprayed from her large nipples.

Britney was sucking on the new man and another man with a huge hard-on came up on his knees behind Britney. The camera shifted position to show a close up of the head of the man’s penis on the lips of Britney’s vagina. The man started doing Britney.

“Okay,” the producer said. “Sign her to the usual contract with options. You got your star for ‘Gang Bang.’”

“Thanks, Joe. I thought you would like her.”

The producer got up and left. The director continued to watch the screen. With her head bobbing on the man’s meat cum poured out of Britney’s mouth. The man behind Britney pulled out of her vagina and began to stroke himself. His cum began to splash on Britney’s butt.

Then the camera drew back to show several men stroking themselves. Cum began splashing on Britney’s butt and back. With cum all over her butt and back and dripping off her chin Britney got up from her hands and knees and walked over and straddled the lap of the woman whose breasts were being milked. Britney kissed the woman in the mouth. After the kiss the woman licked up the cum dripping from Britney’s chin. The woman moved her hands up and down Britney’s cum covered back. Britney began sucking on one of the woman’s nipples. She sucked for a long time. Then she sucked on the other nipple for a long time. The film ended with a closeup of Britney looking into the camera, breast milk running out of her mouth and down her chin.

The director sat in the dark. He called out, “Bill, roll it for me one more time.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Henderson.”

The film was running when someone came into the screening room. It was a beautiful young woman. She sat beside the director. The woman was Britney Love.

“I saw him leave,” she said.

“You got the part.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes. You’re the star of ‘Gang Bang’.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Well,” Mr. Henderson said. “You know what our deal was.”

“Here? Now? What about the projectionist?”

“Bill? Honey, Bill’s been with me fifteen years. He’s seen everything. He’s a professional.”

Several minutes later, as Britney’s head boobed up and down on Mr. Henderson’s hard meat, Britney got so excited she reached under her mini dress and into her panties and began desperately massaging her clitoris.

When Mr. Henderson’s cum began to gush into her mouth Britney squealed and she started cumming herself. Britney loved to suck. She loved having a mouth full of cum. She loved the way cum tasted when she swallowed it. But that’s not why her body began to rock with a powerful orgasm. She started cumming because she knew that in two or three years she was going to be a star.

 

Women Like This Magazine, Too

Whenever I check the break down of the readership of this blog with one of those information sites that give you an analysis of your traffic, it always pleases me that the majority of the readers for this magazine are women.

Oh, men like the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette; but women feel comfortable here, too.  And why wouldn’t women feel comfortable here?  Don’t women like flash fiction stories?  Don’t women enjoy good writing?  Arent women interested in sex?

The answer to all three questions is a definite yes.

And now with the new Home Page set up, the best of this magazine is on display ever day.

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