Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site


Jenny and Frank's sex life.


Submitted:Jan 31, 2008    Reads: 301    Comments: 4    Likes: 1   


I was challenged on another site to write a short erotic piece based on only the word "lampshade". I didn't think you could write anything based on the word lampshade, but this is what I came up with...

- - -

Jenny allowed her breathing to return to normal and released the death-grip she had held on the sheets now that her orgasm had finally ebbed. Her face was pressed to the mattress, arms wrapped tightly under her body, ass pushed up in the air. Frank was still inside her, still thrusting away towards his own climax, but seemed to be getting nowhere. She opened her eyes. From this angle all she could see was the lampshade.

It appeared to move from left to right in her vision, but she knew it was the power of his ineffectual shoving in and out that moved her; the lampshade was immobile. She studied its surface, the sharp peaks and valleys of its pleats, the way the light shone both above and beneath it, but was subdued as it tried to shine through. It was a symbol of her relationship with Frank.

They had their peaks and valleys, but they were so small they looked like the pleats on that lampshade. Barely ever high enough to brag about, but never low enough to complain about. Steady, consistent, uniform little joys contrasted by even, homogenous, unvaried setbacks. Their life together held no excitement, no passion, no spontaneity. Everything was according to Frank's plan. God, she longed for the days before Frank, before his schedules and routines, when she was free to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.

She wondered how life had become this habitual as she felt him growing soft within her. He was still trying, but putting less effort into it now, his breath puffing in and out like a freight train trying futilely to pick up speed. She knew how it would end. The same way it always ended. She was amazed he could still give her an orgasm. She lay there, staring at the lampshade and wondering why she stayed with Frank. What did she get out of this any more? It certainly wasn't love or sexual satisfaction. Financial security? Convenience? Was that what she had been reduced to?

She felt him pull out and knew what was coming. The smacking, meaty sound of his hand sliding up and down his own shaft followed, and held her position for him as she always did. This was their only position anymore. Frank liked to be in control. Jenny did as she always did; lay on her stomach and waited for his grand finale.

He leaned over her, reaching towards the night stand. She could see part of his arm just below the lampshade as he grabbed the lube from beside his watch. A cold, greasy finger smeared around her asshole, and then she felt him pressing against her, hard again, ready. He pressed slowly inside, ever so slowly moving deeper until she felt his head pop all the way inside, her sphincter snapping shut around him.

Now he moved smoothly, in a little deeper every time until he had worked his lubricated penis all the way inside her ass. He began to thrust again, shoving his hardness inside her, and she watched the lampshade resume its left to right dance. She hated this part. She hated this almost as much as she hated when he went soft inside her, almost as much as she hated the monotonous non-existence they shared.

Soon he would come. It would be like every other time, and she would hate feeling it inside her, dripping out of her, the raw feeling in her ass lasting for the next day or two. Soon he would come, and her mind raced through possibilities as she stared at the lampshade.

She saw the light shining bright from below the bottom edge of the lampshade as her life had once shone brightly before she married Frank. She saw how dimly the light appeared through the surface of the lampshade; the same inability to shine she felt in this smothering relationship. Her eyes traveled to the top of the lampshade and saw the light pouring forth towards the ceiling. It was a sign. The future was bright, the possibilities were there, if she could disentangle herself from this garish lampshade called Frank.

He thrust deep inside, and as he came, she resolved to go.





1

| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.