Happiness Is a Warm (Yes It Is!) GunAugust 14, 2011 at 8:45 PM | Posted in Fiction | 10 Comments
Tags: guns, sex
This is another in the series of flash fiction from Chuck Wendig’s site “Terrible Minds.” The theme this week was to write something about guns. That’s a little open-ended, if you ask me. To find out the details and read more entries, go to his website:
Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: Must Love Guns
Violet eyed her target in the scope and pulled the trigger. She held off for as long as she could, enjoying the mounting excitement in her loins and the wetness it produced.
Now the job was finished and Violet felt…unfulfilled. Although the sniper rifle was long and hard and smooth, it lacked the personality and raw sexual power of her .38 Revolver. Quickly she disassembled the rifle, pausing only to briefly slide the still-warm barrel inside her pants, where the heat and hardness caressed her soft, aching mound.
“Not now, not now,” she thought, and finished her close. She already knew where she was going next. Where she had to go.
In her hotel room she prepared to go out for the evening. In the shower, she softly caressed the scars that disfigured her neck, her shoulder, and her breast. Gunshot wounds from a battle long ago that caught her in the crossfire: A battle that killed her family, and shaped who she would become on the inside as well as the outside.
She thought the scars were beautiful.
He had no idea who this woman was, who was dressed so seductively, revealing at once nothing and everything. Violet made eye contact, and her eyes burned with passion. Bernardo sensed it.
“Excuse me, madam. But the gentleman there in the private room has asked politely for the pleasure of your company.” Violet went to the room.
Bernardo stood and bowed slightly. “Forgive me, madam. You betray so much with your eyes. I feel as though I know you. And yet–”
She took his proffered hand as he applied more than a salutary kiss. “I am Miss Violet Nuncio. You, too, sir, lead with your eyes. I sense a predator.”
He gave a reserved laughed. “Only in that I seek the finest of all things. And people. I feel that you are the finest.”
“At what?” she inquired demurely.
“Ah, that is the question. That is what I hope to discover.”
“I am sure, Senor Bernardo, that in due time you shall.”
Violet shared the gift of immediate intimacy with Bernardo. After a fashion they found themselves naturally in Bernardo’s suite. “Will you now have champagne with me, Miss Nuncio?”
“Yes, of course, dear Bernardo. I would like to freshen up, if you don’t mind.”
“Please, of course.”
While Bernardo prepared the champagne, Violet prepared her tender loins for what she hoped would be a night of wonderful passion. Her wetness made it easy, as she slid the birth control device inside her vagina. She then put on a dark, high-collar negligee, and nothing else.
“Ravishing. Simply ravishing,” he said upon her return. She smiled a dimpled smile. “When I say ‘ravishing,’ my dear, I mean that. I would feast upon you.” Bernardo took her in his arms softly, yet she could feel the strength in his hard, sinewy arms.
She said, “I know. Bernardo, I know. I know of you, and I know what you desire. I have dreamt that one day I would be your feast.” She looked into his eyes, and lightly ran her fingers over his hard, masculine chest. “And I will feast upon you as well.” She slowly licked her lips.
With that, all pretense was broken. He kissed her hard, passionately, then began to kiss and nuzzle her face and neck, and worked down to her now-heaving bosom. With a squeal of surprise and delight, Violet found herself thrown onto the bed, and she thought enough to land with her mocha-colored legs open, inviting him in.
Bernardo quite naturally attacked her, head first, and put his face down in her private area. He took note of the small and neatly trimmed patch of hair, and appreciated her attention to detail.
The aroma of her sex flared his nostrils. God, how he loved this! He wanted to bury his face in her beautiful mound. Instead, he plied her groin with small kisses, and lightly brushed her outer lips with his tongue. Gradually he made his way in, working his tongue and lips on all of her beautiful, wanting parts. He found her tiny button and sucked on it. He paid attention to her responses, so that he could find that which she liked the most.
Violet was in ecstasy. Her head was back and she was moaning, as her fluids coursed through her to be lapped up by her lover. In her mind’s eye, while she knew it was Bernardo, she imagined it to be her gun. It was her gun that she loved. Her gun knew how to please her. Her gun was always hard, always hot, and never let her down.
The thoughts of her gun brought her nearer and nearer to orgasm. It wasn’t time yet–Not yet. She knew it was close, as she felt things moving inside her.
She knew that Bernardo would let her know when the time was right. Sweet Bernardo–so loving and giving, eating her pussy, sticking his tongue inside her…
“Huh–What the hell?”
That was the cue. That was the signal that her vaginal muscles had pushed her modified Semmerling out far enough to not hurt her. “Oh, yes!” she cried, and contracted her vaginal muscles in exactly the right way, firing the gun in Bernardo’s face.
The recoil of a Semmerling is considerable, and it pushed back deep inside her. This sent her over the edge in wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure. The heat from the barrel burned her a little, even though she had it in a protective case. Still, it was exhilarating. Inside her it dampened the noise considerably.
Bernardo was dead. He died doing what he loved, but still, he was dead. After 12 long years, Violet had her revenge. Finally, she came down from her pleasure high, and rolled away from his body. After she showered and changed, she prepared to leave. She said, “That was the best,” to no one in particular. The room. Bernardo. The Semmerling.