Standard Disclaimers:
- It’s not real, this didn’t happen.
- I made it up, so don’t rip it off.
- Don’t read it if it’s illegal in your area to do so.
Below are some of the hot flashes I’ve written that seem hot to me even after they’ve had a chance to cool. I didn’t do much editing, even tho’ a lot of it is raw. I thought it’d be better to showcase them in their original form. I hope you’ll like them, too, and that you’ll take the time to read the hot flashes by other authors at the MCForum. There’s such variety and imagination in one thread it’s almost scary. Flibinite said it best when reviewing the collection Writerzblocked put his together: take your time and take a little break between each one. They’re better that way.
When I Was About to Close Up Shop
The two Japanese boys—20? 22?—were perusing the cheap book bin outside my store. Standing so close to each other in their tight shirts and jeans. The shorter one casually hooked his arm over the taller one when he bent over to pull out a book. They laughed at something the taller one said.
The shorter one gave the other his wallet and waited outside while he bought his book, “Hypnosis For Fun and Profit.”
“I didn’t think anyone would buy this book, it’s been sitting out there for a while.”
He looked into my eyes and I felt slightly sad I wasn’t a boy, myself.
“Just needed to review a bit,” he finally replied. He walked out to his waiting lover and handed back the wallet.
The Memos
Time: 8:00 AM
To: All Depts
From: Personnel
RE: Office Procedure
Please view attached file regarding immediate changes to office procedures.
Time: 8:05 AM
To: All Depts
From: Personnel
RE: Office Procedure
Do not speak. Turn off all computers and phones. Strip and fellate the person in the cubicle to your right. After achieving orgasm report to Personnel Dept for further instructions.
*Note: there’s a follow-up hot flash written by layna on page 8 of the Hot Flash thread on the Forum. It’s better than this one.
Summer in Kona, 1985.
My pals and I were ire on the waves at Honl Beach. The sun kept crashing down on us and I was as tan as I’d ever get. No worries, no work, just sand, surfing, and girls. Girls. Anna Lei. With the dark skin and the blue eyes and the toughest tita, even at five feet. She’d surf with the boys and she had me wrapped around her little finger, though I could never tell her.
One night we had a fire at the beach, listening to reggae and trading laughing insults. Anna and some other girls came over and she sat next to me. I glanced at her, feeling myself flush. The flames were in her eyes, her pupils large and flickering. I turned my head so I could see them better.
“Keoni,” she said, lifting her chin in greeting. I nodded back and couldn’t look away. The rest of the world faded into the night around us, drowned out by the fire and by her eyes. I shook my head and found myself naked in the water. I knew I had come. Like waking up from a wet dream. Anna was lifting herself up out of the water and walking in to the rest of the gang, her shadowed form swaying. I stayed behind, treading water.
Untitled
“What Wolf dresses in pink?” Kyle asked with a sneer.
“I’m also wearing black,” I replied with a wink, lifting my black leather skirt a few inches so he could see the tops of my black hose.
“Babe, go change outta that Hello Kitty crap and come back lookin’ like you really belong here,” he said.
“But Kyle, Baybee, just look at the sparkles on her little bow! Don’t they just twinkle at you?”
“Girl, what the fuck you tryin’ to pull? I said, go get in your Wolf outfit. James-guys are gonna be here soon and it’ll be time to ride.”
I jiggled my breasts a bit, making the sparkles on my pink Hello Kitty shirt shimmer.
“Just one kiss?” I asked. He kissed me, my pink lipstick smearing on his lips. We tongued and I made sure the lipstick got in his mouth.
“Girl, what’d you do to me?” he asked as he stumbled against his chopper. I grinned and snapped my fingers. The Feds surprised me even though I knew they’d be coming.
With thanks to faery and turing for putting up with me.
The Cheerleader
“Look, I’m a pro-fesh-ion-al, man. I don’t know what you were thinking here —”
“We weren’t looking for a stripper or anything, Ms, um, Parker. We just wanted a cheerleader to do a cheer for us.”
Barb Parker eyed the guy in the lab coat suspiciously, then let her eye travel to the group behind him. More lab coats and a few scantily-clad women.
“What is this? A costume party?”
“No. Well, I mean, we’re just a group of people that share the same interest. Won’t you come in?”
She stepped in through the open door, past Lab Coat Number One, pompoms held loosely in her left hand. She felt a stabbing pain in her right arm and turned to see another lab coat, this one female, with a needle.
“What the fu—”
Cheerleader Barbie stood before her audience, grinning so brightly that the lab coats had to squint. She stepped into an imitation of an “M.”
“Mind!” shouted the crowd.
“Control!” they roared back at her.
“Put ‘em together and what d’ya get?”
“Mind Control!”
Barbie jumped and grooved as she yelled the next part, bumping and grinding and waving those pom-poms like she just don’t care.
The crowd went wild and Harry, who wrote the cheer, was getting a few claps on the back.
“Wheee!” shouted Barbie as she did the splits. The crowd of lab coats came rushing at her, hypos waving over heads.
I was thinking last night about how we all hate second-person and wondering if I could do it. It’s longer than it ought to be. Any suggestions about how to shorten it without losing the heat? Lemme know what you think.
Online Right Now
“Indigo Vertigo.” You’re sitting at your table, mouse in hand. The other one’s reaching for your fly. Button down or zipper? Buttons won’t get in the way as much when you reach to fondle yourself. Is it out yet? Soft and flopping against your thigh? Why don’t you touch it while you imagine she’s at the other end, typing one-handed while she strokes her clit. Yeah, you like that, don’t you? The idea that she’s getting off on the idea of getting you off. That’s what you want.
“Indigo Vertigo.” Deeper now, and harder. The two of you have worked on that induction for a while. Text messages, phone calls, midnight orgasms where you hear her breath catch while she says it again, “Indigo Vertigo.” Stroke for her. Make it hard for her. In a moment she’ll call and you want to be hard for her. Stroke it again, boy.
“Indigo Vertigo.” If precum leaks out she wants you to imagine her catching it with her tongue, licking her lips so you know the sheen isn’t just from her saliva. In your mind you can see that tongue, even though you’ve never seen her. Not even a picture. But the tongue... it’s trailing over the head of your cock while you stroke. It’s what she wants you to see. It’s what she wants you to feel. That silky skin sliding a bit over the hardness underneath. The palm of your hand pressing back just as hard, fingers encircling. The sliding. The slickness of the lube and precum mingling and the heat building. Can you imagine her mouth? Like she’s under that table and between your legs and her soft soft lips...
You make a ring with your thumb and index finger, hold them gently at the tip of your cock. It’s like she holding her mouth there, daring you to inch forward into her. Do it. Shift forward and let your fingers slide down, adding the rest as you move your hand. Pretend her eyes close in ecstacy. Because, as she was typing one-handed, she must have done just that: closed her eyes while pretending you slipped your cock in her mouth. She must have paused to imagine it.
And when you want to cum she’ll let you. She’s the best online controller you’ve ever had. None of this impatient toe-tapping need to cum. You can just let it flow, uncoil from your belly into the air, into your hand. When she calls she’ll give you that gift again. So you stroke it, getting closer... getting closer.
Untitled
“Stop!.. What are you doing to me?.. I’m sorry I interrupted you. I like it, really I do. No, no! Don’t stop!.. Aw, c’mon, please? Please? I’ll do anything you want, just do that some more!.. Yeah, like that!.. Oh... God!”
Because older women have needs, too. And because I have strong opinions about the new movement to medicate women with “low libidos.” When you’re a pharmaceutical company everything’s an ailment.
Menopause Avoidance
“Like I said, your reaction to the pill will tells us how to treat your premenopausal symptoms. It’s not a cure for hot flashes, just a guide to the whole shebang.”
“They’re the worst, though.”
“Mrs. Alba, please take the pill.”
Denise Alba swallowed the pill. “I don’t feel anything.”
“It can take a while for a response to show itself. Just relax and I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Denise sat on the examining table, her butt finally warming up. The boredom made her sleepy. She surprised herself when her eyes flew open and her left hand started massaging her breast.
“How do you feel?” The doctor asked as she breezed in. When she saw Denise fondling herself she smiled.
Denise couldn’t reply. Her face grew red but she couldn’t stop touching her breast. Now she was even pinching and twisting the nipple! She opened her mouth and out came, “Doctor, I’m so horny!” Denise shut her mouth before anything else could escape.
“That’s great, Mrs. Alba! That’s a good reaction to have to the pill.”
“Please help me. Touch my clit,” Denise said, when what she meant was, “What’s happening to me?”
“I’m happy to help, Mrs. Alba. Just lean back on the table. That’s it. How does it feel when I do this?”
Denise moaned.
“And this?”
Denise gasped.
“Great. Let’s get you off, then get you off the table and back home. I’ve got a few more pills you can take with you.”
The Volunteer
“How much did you pay him to do that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?’
“No. He volunteered.”
“How’d you get him to do that?”
“Hello, George. ‘Volunteered’ means I didn’t do anything to him.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Marcus, did I make you strip naked and come for me just now?”
“No, Mistress, I volunteered.”
On the Gurney After The Third Round of Hypnosis
“We’ve got nothing but time,” I whispered in his ear. He moaned back around the black gag and turned his head away from me, showing me the clasp of the black blindfold.
“Nothing but time, Eric, and I’m a patient woman,” I said, straightening up. As I walked away I let my fingers trail along his chest, his stomach, and drag lightly over his hard cock. He shivered.
“When I come back we’ll try again.”
He shook his violently from side to side and I said, “We’ve got nothing but time.”
Untitled
Pure daylight, a high-noon sun, and a glass of Long Island iced tea. She was in the shade of a blue- and white-striped umbrella, her lounge chair facing the ocean. I was the beach barmaid that day.
“Honey,” she drawled when I brought her the drink, “I think you need a tip for bringing me these drinks in such a timely manner.” Her Southern accent made me wet. And the hot sun made my polyester uniform itch.
“Just doing my best to make our guests comfortable,” I replied automatically. But I was imagining helping her with her suntan lotion and maybe even helping her to orgasm a few times.
She reached up to slip me some cash but withdrew it when I lifted my hand.
“No, honey, bend over,” she smiled behind her dark sunglasses. I bent over. She slipped the cash between my breasts.
“Th-thank you,” I managed.
“No problem, honey,” she said with a wave of her hand. I retreated to the shade of the bar and pulled out the money. The bills were sticky with my sweat. Folded inside was a cardkey and written on the innnermost bill: “569.”
The Beginning
I was born into the bright lights and the antiseptic smell of the hospital. The soft beeps of machines, the whirr of the diaphram breathing for me, the squeaky tread of nurses’ shoes and wheeled carts of drugs.
“Well, look who’s awake,” a disembodied voice said as someone’s head floated over mine. It was feminine, smiling. Mom? At the same time I heard, “Poor boy, it’s a shame someone so handsome will never find the right woman to take care of him.”
“Mom?” I think that’s what I said.
“No, Mr. Ellis. I’m Nurse Banner,” she said. At the same time I heard, “Poor boy, wakes up from his coma and the first person he wants is the one that died in the car crash.”
“Dead?” I was suddenly afraid.
“No, Mr. Ellis. You’re not dead. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been in a coma for a while.” But she was thinking, “It was a pleasure when it was my turn to wash you.”
I may have been born only a few minutes ago but I knew that was an unprofessional thought.
“Breast,” I whispered, my throat dry. She unbuttoned her shirt, unclasped her bra, and offered me a breast. I sucked. It was dry.
“Milk,” I whispered. And milk came.
Untitled
I’ve often wondered why I sit in this small, dark cell. It’s not all that comfortable. In the brief periods of waking by myself rather than at my Master’s command I often catch glimpses of who I used to be. It doesn’t scare me, or bother me. But I do wonder about the gap between past and present. I wonder why I sit in this small, dark cell without fear, with a sense that I’m in the right place. Shouldn’t it be odd to be here? Shouldn’t I worry?
I’ve often wondered why the sight, sound, or smell of my Master makes me so wet, makes my mouth flood with saliva, makes my eyes find the floor or his feet and gaze without wavering. There’s this impulse to do as he asks without hesitation. And I crave the ability to anticipate his needs, though he says I ought to wait for each command.
So command me! I want to cry out. I even tremble with the need for it. But I stay silent. At those times I do not wonder, I simply am each and every sensation I feel. The terra cotta tiles against my knees and shins, the back of my hands against the tops of my thighs, the collar chafing slightly, my pussy engorged and open, my clit sending signals of imagined touches. It is enough to feel and wait. There is no room to wonder.
But when I wake in my small silent cell I wonder. I calmly pull the thin blanket up to my chin and wonder.
Breakfast
She wasn’t the girl I was looking for, but sometimes you have to make do with what’s in front of you. In this case, she was in front of me in the Starbucks line. I cocked my left wrist to let the small injection of A47 slip into my hand. Pulled the cap off between my first two fingers, then slid the needle into her ass and hit the plunger. Less than 2 cc’s. I would have prefered a man, they’re easier to control, ask fewer questions. But I was jonesing. She didn’t even feel it. I counted to ten then leaned foward and whispered in her ear, “I’m with you. Order me a grande latte, a cranberry scone, and an orange juice. Wait to pick up our order, then join me at the table. Nod if you understand.” She nodded. I headed to the only empty table and, as I sat, looked back to catch her eye. She smiled at me, that same dreamy smile they all get.
Who knew, I thought to myself for the hundredth time, it was cheaper to make A47 than buy breakfast at Starbucks.
Chamomile Tea Will Make You Sleepy
“It was in the tea, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, faster effect than if I’d put it in the pasta.”
“You bastard.”
“You’ll be calling me something else in, oh, about two minutes.”