Prompt #9
Added 2024-09-22 20:22:17 +0000 UTC**Next is Prompt #4 [Describe your first kiss in third-person-omniscient]**
[Always remember lying is an option]
The Tattooed Lady [by Flynn]
Flynn loved women of all shapes and sizes. And while he had been with a great many women, as Mary undressed this was his first time seeing a tattoo of infinity.
This was not the infinity tattoo and the figure eight symbol he’d seen god knows how many of those he’d seen. This was a tattoo of the woman whose shirt he was unbuttoning, the back of her head facing him as she drew a replica of herself who in turn drew another replica and on and on and seemingly on. As her shirt came off he stared at the tattoo, the only one he could see on her, before his lips were back against hers and their eyes closed. A clever tattoo well done but not something to distract from the moment.
It sat under her left collarbone, and when his lips traveled to her nipple it sat perfectly at eye level. Maybe three inches tall and every inner replica as detailed as the last. His eyes transfixed on the tattoo as she moaned above him. He could see each inner drawing showing a slightly different version of her, different haircuts and changes in weight. The more he looked though the more he could see differences that weren’t simply physical. Three drawings in was incredibly sad while it’s predecessor radiated a peace and confidence. The fifth was furious, righteous anger unleashed on someone he knew deserved it. The sixth pure joy. He strained to better see the seventh.
He’d been staring. Flynn looked up to apologize but Mary’s gaze met his without reproach.
“Go on . Look.”
“I-”
“No, look.”
So he looked and the tattoo continued. On and on with Mary’s story. There was no plot. It didn’t show her job or the state she grew up in (their date’s small talk hadn’t covered those topics either). It showed the joy of her triumphs. The suffering she could endure, the breaking and healing she went through again and again. The ability to move through the unknown and look for what was next. Every one shifted and changed and through them all the thread of hope and determination. Each new artist hoping the next her would be better and determined to create her.
Three inches of ink that showed who she was more than any first date could.
Flynn looked back up at her, seeing every woman from the tattoo in her eyes. He kissed Mary. He kissed every woman Mary had been, the dizzying multitude she contained. He would have been overwhelmed if he hadn’t focused on one.
The one who would be tattooed into her skin next.
Comments
Wow, Blu! Took him to space. I love your creativity with comparing the beauty of vitiligo to a galaxy. 🥰 this is beautiful!
Delicada19🫀
2024-10-16 10:13:22 +0000 UTCFlynn loved women of all shapes and sizes. And while he had been with a great many women, as she undressed this was his first time seeing skin spotted as intricately as the universe they floated in. Monroe, standing before him, dropped her draping skirt into a black puddle at her feet. She let him stare. Stare at the patchy ribbon of rich mahogany that curled around her left leg, from her fleshy hip, around her knee, and curving to the inside of her ankle. It was contrasted by skin that — from a distance — would only look slightly lighter than the rest. But her leg was near enough that their shins bumped when he pulled her thigh closer to see the details of her artwork. In the milky clouds that painted her skin were millions of freckles bumping into each other. Small and large, as chaotically imperfect and serendipitously aligned as the stars. The other leg had its own pattern of light and dark. Flynn was mesmerized by the intricacy of it all. His fingers explored and discovered the places his eyes followed: the John to his Jesus, they made way for the presence of more divine perfection. He wanted to swim in the lakes of Monroe and her vitiligo. Without tearing his eyes away from her fleshy art, Flynn whispered, "Can I see more?" She took off her shirt slowly, sliding it up above her head, and he watched as the muscles under the canvas shifted her artwork in waves. He trailed his eyes up, gulping down every dot and brush stroke of melanin. Above her red panty line, five blurry freckles floated in a line across a mandarin-sized spot of milk. Under her right tit [he lifted it ever so gently to see] a mango of dark skin shadowed the outside of its curve and faded out into a flurry of condensed freckles leading towards her armpit. This one was mostly light, the other tit entirely dark except for a white thumbprint at 10 o'clock from her nipple. That spot held only a single freckle. His tongue licked at it as if scooping up a lost crumb. She tasted like cocoa and salt and his dick tightened at the taste. Their date might have been dinner and a movie, but this was dessert and the Louvre. When Flynn's neck couldn't crane anymore to see her collarbones, he reached up, cupped her ass, and pulled her down onto his lap with the force of graceless curiosity. His greedy tongue traced the outline of a milky patch on her neck. Monroe groaned, tilting her head to let him finish drawing. Her sound invoked the wild from Flynn, evident in the deeper digging of his fingers on her backside, the subtle bucking of his hips, the teasing of teeth on her chin. His eyes wanted to find hers but they couldn't get past her parted lips. There it was. A lovely, lonely dot sat in the cup of her philtrum. During dinner, his gaze had been magnetized to it, overrun with the thought of biting at the mark. He told Monroe as much. She leaned in closer, steaming up his monotonously-blanketed skin, "I know." That evening, Flynn connected every constellation on Monroe's body. He made the universe cry his name. In the after, when she slept and he continued drawing on her shoulder, he remembered when he was 12 and dreamt of being an astronaut. He whispered into memory, "I did you one better, bud," and laid his head to sleep on a warm cloud floating on the back of Monroe's neck.
Blu
2024-10-02 01:08:57 +0000 UTCThis update is beautiful
Jessica
2024-09-25 20:41:18 +0000 UTC**Next is Prompt #4 [Describe your first kiss in third-person-omniscient]** [Always remember lying is an option]
Ray Purchase
2024-09-25 20:10:32 +0000 UTCLalalaaaa lalalaaaa😂 Tho I always picture The Philadelphia Story😂 https://youtu.be/d15JOd75uG8?si=lsG1FniAoaLA_dDp
Mare
2024-09-24 01:14:29 +0000 UTCJust dropped by ‘cos I heard Flynn posted. Flynn, it is clear why you and doc are friends. I don’t think I need to elaborate. Welcome to the clinic love💜
Mare
2024-09-23 22:06:47 +0000 UTCGoddamn woman, your writing. I swoon. 😍
siesta_maven
2024-09-23 07:38:51 +0000 UTCVery much taken with Flynn’s beautiful story. Thank you, Flynn, and thank you, drR. In kind: Flynn loved women of all shapes and sizes. And while he had been with a great many women, as she undressed this was his first time seeing her. Another body, unremarkable in theory but everything right now. Here and beautiful. A story, not to resolve, but to savor in reading and sometimes in loving. She knows it—she’s been with a great many too. People for a night, a morning or four, a winter, years. She admits that some were more skin: greedy plush lips, velvet slick cunts, fervent hard cocks, gripping calloused hands, tracing wet tongues; momentum in flesh. She’s just a bit scared that most were more heart. Some she keeps closer than others, in memory and phantom fingertips. A few she wishes she could erase, expel, banish [and she’s working on that]. But she likes him. And she glimpses a little into a future, as she unbuttons her top. She’s practiced in the tease and acutely aware of the magnetic line from her neck to her breasts. She shrugs the skimpy fabric from her shoulders and it falls, embraced by the old pine floor and her soft bare feet, shoes abandoned at the threshold between hallway and bedroom. Her pants come next. That pair that hugs her ass fat just as she likes, a wardrobe staple for a date and an after. Rolling them down swiftly, she kicks them aside and her thighs ripple welcome. In bra and panties, she instinctively assumes the pose of Botticelli’s Venus, but abandons that glitch when her true courage flows. She’s seen his eyes. Her arms fall to her sides, framing waist and hips anticipating touch and teeth. She forces his eyes to her own with a question, pulling his gaze from lace-covered pussy to stomach to tits seeking cool air and warm tongue to lips to cheeks and finally to iris and pupil. “Can I take your hand?” “I—yes. Please.” She takes his hand in her own, lithe painted fingers wrapping plum wings around his palm and wrist. Bringing him to her lips, she kisses each digit between words: “Can * I * undress * you * too * ?” He whispers confirmation as his other hand glides to her back. He’s practiced too. Time stops working in the way they think it should and the choreography is somehow slow and fast before he’s in his underwear. It’s minutes or centuries before the wood floor greets the remaining three undergarments and the two bodies are two people about to write one story, for now. It was her first time seeing him, too.
caroscope
2024-09-23 06:40:22 +0000 UTCWell damn you Flynn, I know I asked for this but I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask to be destroyed like that! (Thank you)
Andlikewaterlilies
2024-09-23 05:05:40 +0000 UTCI love this!!! I just didn't see the twist coming and when it does it's magical. Your descriptions grabbed me and transported me! Brilliant! 😍
Katakora
2024-09-23 04:58:03 +0000 UTCCW Coercion/possible dub-con/slight body horror [Flynn loved women of all shapes and sizes. And while he had been with a great many women, as [she] undressed this was his first time seeing] …nothing. He'd been blindfolded before, a scarf, a mask, a pair of hands in the dark, but he'd always been aware of his partner. They'd always arranged the sensory deprivation, consented in the moment, decided on a whim. This was none of those. On a terrazzo warmed by the setting sun, the shapely proprieter brought him a glass of ouzo with his meal. After the fiery liquid seared down his throat, he savored the quiet evening. It was a rare night of calm snatched from an endless torrent of work and obligations, his meal accompanied by the Demotiko quartet in the corner and lapping waves hitting the shore below. The last morsel was being chewed when the same woman approached once more. She was framed by the fat, pink moon rising over the horizon. Laying a plate of sliced oranges drizzled with honey on the table, her mellifluous voice echoed the soft breeze. “May I offer you anything else?” He pushed his dish away, placing the napkin aside. “I couldn't eat another bite.” The riot of dark curls spilling down her back matched the fathomless depths of her eyes, a welcoming smile on her lips. “The human appetite is vast and our stomach is not all we need to nourish.” The string music stopped, just as the wind died. Everything was eerily silent, the other diners frozen in place, while the two sized each other up. His reply was drawn out, voice as gravelly as the beach beneath them. “I'm hungry.” “I know.” She held out her hand and he followed, transfixed by the sway of her hips as she picked her way down the stone steps. One staircase after another, cascading down the face of the cliff until their feet hit the pebbles of the shore. She stopped to remove the sandals that wound about her calves, motioning for him to slip out of his shoes as well. Picking their way along the water's edge, she led him out of sight of the town clinging to the granite face above them. Passing an outcropping of stone, a yawning cavern appeared on the other side. The tide was hushed here, far enough back from the lapping waves to remain dry and warm. It was pitch black inside, even the final rays of the sun were swallowed by the darkness. She seemed to know her way, clasped his fingers tightly, guiding him further in the cave. The only noise was their breath and the shuffle of their feet along the rock while they ventured ever deeper into the chasm, narrow and twisting into the earth. “Where are we?” He asked, afraid to shatter the silence with his question, but incapable of stopping himself. A slight panic started to creep at the edge of his consciousness, wondering if there had been something in that ouzo. He pulled from her grasp, hands outstretched, feeling for the cavern mouth, wondering if he could guide himself out using the walls. He remembered he had a lighter in his pocket, clumsy fingers fumbling for the smooth cap, thumbing it open and igniting the flame. There was linework along the walls, drawings etched into the granite, and he was realizing it was a much larger space than it seemed. He caught only a glimpse of their surroundings before an ungodly scream echoed around him, bouncing off the stone. He looked for her, unable to determine where she was standing before the light extinguished and cast them once again into darkness. Gentle fingers brushed his jaw, a quiet voice soothing him. “Please, do not fret. I mean you no harm.” “You led me into a pitch black cave with no way out. How am I supposed to believe you?” Her hand traveled to his chest, rested against the dip in his sternum, where his heart galloped uncontrollably. “Breathe with me, asteri mou. Yes, just like this, in and out.” She placed his hand on her chest, warm and soft Under the silk of her dress, the beat of her own heart steady and calm. “Tell me what’s happening.” “Promise me you won’t use the lighter again.” He flicked the cap open and closed once, twice. Her fingers closed over his, stilling the movement. “Tell me why can’t I see you.” ”You can trust me for this moment in the dark, or you can ignite your flame and the darkness will endure.” “This is some Indiana Jones shit, lady, and I’m running out of patience.” He wrested his hand free, readying his thumb on the igniter, when she uttered a soft, “please.” She wasn’t begging, not really. But the anguish in her voice, the hunger in that one word was clear as the sky at dawn. “Will you permit me these few moments?” He heard the metallic ding of pins dropping to the ground, and then felt the heat radiating off her body when she moved in closer. ”Before we go further, I need you to say yes.” “I mean, do I really have a choice?” ”Man always has a choice.” Her voice whirled around him, sinuous and entrancing. “You usually see what you want and you take it.” ”Okay, we’re not lumping me in with - “ Her fingers pressed against his lips, her other hand sinking into the hair at the base of his skull. “Yes or no?” He had nowhere to be until the morning. Greek dubbed Matlock was all that was waiting back in the tiny hotel room and if he made it out alive, he might get a good story to tell at an industry party someday soon. “Why not?” Her grip grew tighter and he sucked in a gulp of air. “Yes.” The soft hush of silk hitting the cave floor accompanied the buttons she pulled free from his shirt, the clink of his belt and zipper before she pushed his trousers down, her hand wrapping around him. He swore her tongue slithered across his neck, but then he heard her voice in his other ear, whispering in Greek. It felt like her fingers were everywhere, snaking across his body, tugging him to the ground. Climbing on top of him, she maneuvered so her arms and legs were wrapped tight around him, fully encompassing his body with her own. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, the tendrils of her hair caressing him almost with a mind of their own, and his shout reverberated when she sank down onto him. His whole body felt as constricted as his cock inside of her, bound tight by her thrall. She rose and fell upon him, holding him prone while she worked herself along his length, sinking down further with each grind of her hips. With a hiss of satisfaction, she continued to ride him, the rhythmic squeeze of her cunt around him increasing, ever faster until her body jerked, pushing the air from his lungs. He saw stars when she climaxed around him, the erotic thrill of being so consumed, he came in fervent spurts inside of her. She curled around him tighter, he almost swore he could feel the rattle of his soul in his ears. She sprawled out on top of him, her limbs spread over every inch of his skin, absorbing his heat in the chill of the cavern. He had the wild notion that she was like a viper he had seen in the desert, draped over a rock in the midday heat. Time ceased to exist and he drifted in and out of consciousness, strange dreams of writhing, coiled serpents surrounding them, but she just shifted and kissed his neck, lulled him back to slumber. He woke to her gathering the pins from the ground, handing over his clothing, the soft hiss of silk sliding against her body. Leading him out of the cave, it was a painfully short journey. Her dark eyes flared, reflecting the waning light of the full moon when they reached the water again. She twined the straps of her sandals around her legs and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. They began the long trek up the cliff face, endless stairs and switchbacks, until they were at the portico of the little taverna where they’d met the night before. The pearly light of predawn cast everything in shades of grey, she looked like a marble carving. “Thank you, asteri mou.” The strength of her final embrace belied her stature, nearly pressing the breath from his chest with the force of her grip. “Will I see you again?” He asked. She shook her waterfall of curls, and for a moment, in his exhausted state, he swore one of them hissed at him when she passed under the striped awning. ”A night like this comes once in a thousand years, no?” The sun breached the horizon at that moment, illuminating the name of the restaurant when she disappeared from view. Medusa.
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-09-23 04:11:30 +0000 UTCThat was gorgeous, Flynn! I will instantly forgive you the missing Limericks and family feud. You've set the bat very high for your remaining prompts, you do realise that?
Katakora
2024-09-23 03:21:09 +0000 UTCDon’t know if Flynnster is as much of an old soul as Doc (who is?) but I was reminded of the song “Lydia the Tattooed Lady”: https://youtu.be/5hDFo-3ptIE?si=5BmO2sTMhIVmA0CX
Catherine
2024-09-23 02:14:18 +0000 UTCGod this was beautiful, Flynn. Thank you for sharing. 🥹 [and thank you, doc, for sharing his words]
meg
2024-09-23 01:56:30 +0000 UTC
