Flash Fiction Friday: That Old Silk Hat

Sipping her tea, she peered out the window at some children constructing a snowman on a nearby lawn.  It had been a long time since she’d done this, and she was overdue.  She unlocked the trunk and withdrew the black top hat, then grabbed her coat from the rack and ventured outside.

“That’s a very handsome snowman,” she told the kids, “but you’d better see he doesn’t catch a cold.”  She proffered the hat, and one of them placed it on the frosty round head.  Without warning, the rotund snowman transformed before their eyes into a tall, handsome, very human stranger in a perfectly-tailored tuxedo.  Gone were the two eyes made out of coal, replaced with a pair of lively blues.

“Happy birthday!” he exclaimed.  The children screamed and ran in all directions.  The block was deserted but for the woman in the coat, and a tuxedo-clad gentlemen who mere seconds before consisted of three large lumps of ice.

Their eyes met.  “Would you care to come in for tea?”  She took his hand in his and led him to her door.  On the way to her boudoir, they stopped to christen the sitting room, the kitchen, and the hallway.  He proved himself a skilled and generous lover, giving her greater pleasure than she had ever imagined.  His climax was momentous, voluminous.  As they lay in each other’s arms, she felt a twinge of guilt over what she knew was about to happen.

By the time he noticed, it had already occurred.  His body crystallized and quickly turned to water.  He didn’t even have time to say good-bye before soaking through the bedclothes and into the mattress.  Without a moment’s regret, she rose from the bed, removed the saturated sheets, and tossed them in the dryer.

Until next winter… (299/299)

Behind the Scenes

In my opinion, there wasn’t much substance to this week’s prompt photo.  It’s a sexy image, certainly; however there was no story implied.  A typical Tumblr-worthy shot of two people fucking?  The story possibilities are limitless.  It wasn’t until I thought about the required word – “…frosty…” – that I decided to tie my story into the holiday standard Frosty the Snowman, first performed by Gene Autry in 1950.  In fact, the title of this story is a direct reference to the lyric, “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found.”

Once I sat down to write, the story flowed easily.  The hook – a snowman that turns into a human being rather than simply coming to life and dancing around – was a no-brainer.  Among the details carried over from the source material is the snowman’s “Happy Birthday” greeting, first utilized in the 1969 television special produced by Rankin Bass.

Though I’d already decided on the “snowman that comes to life” story, I was a bit conflicted with regard to how to incorporate the required word.  I considered making explicit reference to Frosty the Snowman, something along the lines of, “The snowman came to life, but not like Frosty did.”  Ultimately I decided on a random usage of the word to describe the snowman’s head; initially the word used here was “icy”.

Initially I planned to have the story end with the sex scene.  Having the snowman melt away, much like Frosty himself, was a relatively last minute addition.  I enjoyed juxtaposing the tragedy of the snowman’s “death” with the woman’s relative nonchalance.

Deleted Scenes

In my original vision for this story, the woman was the divorced or widowed mother of the children who were building the snowman.  Ultimately I decided that wouldn’t work because her kids would certainly have been familiar with her hat trick, having surely been exposed to it on multiple occasions.

Soundtrack

Obviously it’s got to be Frosty the Snowman, though thanks to its use in Goodfellas, I am partial to the version recorded by The Ronettes.

The Naughty Hangout: Frisky With a Whisk

This week, the main theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Kitchen”.  Both this shot and the mouseover were taken in our kitchen, specifically with Jill leaning up against the kitchen door.

If you mouse over the image, you’ll see that we interpreted the secondary theme of “Parts” using the whisk attachment from a KitchenAid mixer.

See who else is being naughty this week!

Wicked Wednesday: Tickled

Our kiss breaks.  He moves down my naked body, the hairs dancing over my breast as his tongue swirls around my nipple.  He raises it to a stiff peak, then draws it deeply into his mouth.  He moves quickly to the other one and repeats the process before kissing his way down my stomach.  I feel the hairs again, following Jack’s mouth all the way.  By the time he reaches my thighs, I am ready for him.  I want him inside me.  Immediately.

But Jack has other ideas.  He spreads my legs with strong hands, his soft lips grazing over my flesh.  His kisses are electric, charging my body with arousal.  He moves from one to the other, deliberately avoiding what lies between them.  I anticipate feeling his tongue on my swollen, juicy pussy.  My hunger is so urgent that I can’t stand it.

He doesn’t keep me waiting very long.  My body jolts as I feel his mouth where I want it most.  He begins to lick me from my ass to my clit, each confident stroke of his tongue sending me closer to the edge.  His licks grow more intense, and I feel the familiar tickle as the hairs tantalize my needy, throbbing clit.  That’s all it takes.

When the waves of release have subsided, we share a kiss.  The taste of my wetness is strong on Jack’s lips and tongue.  We lie in each other’s arms and slowly drift away.  As sleep overtakes me, it occurs to me that it’s the end of Movember, and Jack’s moustache will soon be gone.

This week’s prompt: Movember

Retro HNT: #52 Our HNT Year-in-Review

“#52 Our HNT Year-in-Review”, posted December 30, 2010

In 2010 we posted fifty-two consecutive weeks of pictures at OHNT.  We’ve spent the last year posting them on our blog, one per week.  We hope you’ve enjoyed this HNT retrospective.  While we participated in OHNT sporadically in 2009 and 2011, we’re going to take a break before we start posting those pictures to our blog.  In the meantime, although we’re currently way behind, you will eventually be able to find all of our 2010 submissions here, along with background information and all the comments they received.

TMI Tuesday: November 27, 2012 – Famous or Forgotten

Thanks to an anonymous TMI Tuesday blog lurker for this week’s questions!
Jack’s Answers
1. Have you ever had sex with someone famous or who later became famous, if only locally?
Larry Tomaszewski was better known in my town as Looney Larry, because his prices were truly insane.  He owned a used car lot, and he was fond of appearing in bizarre late-night television commercials in which he’d pedal around the lot on a unicycle while wearing a fez and a monocle, puffing an ostentatious briar pipe as he invited viewers to come test drive last year’s models.  Meanwhile a screeching monkey would run across the frame, tearing prices in half with his monkey hands.  I was a couple years out of high school when I ventured onto the lot in the hopes of making an offer on a 1985 Subaru Sumo.  Looney Larry offered to show me the van’s spacious interior, but once he unlocked the back of the van there was something unsettling about his smile.  When he invited me in I just stood there, shaking my head and unable to speak.  But he offered to knock two hundred bucks off of the five hundred dollar asking price, so I cautiously ventured in.  It wasn’t long after that that the pills he slipped me took effect.
2. In the spirit of Six Degrees of Separation, have you had sex with someone who had sex with someone who had sex with someone who . . . someone famous?
Possibly.  When I was in my twenties I had an FWB relationship with someone who had sex with someone on Bill Clinton’s 1996 presidential campaign staff.  It’s conceivable that this person had sex with someone Clinton himself was banging at the time.  I obviously have no way of knowing, and for that matter not much interest in finding out.  But it is kind of fun to wonder.
3. In the opposite direction, have you had sex with someone whose name you didn’t know?
I’m pretty sure I knew the names of everyone I ever slept with at the time I slept with them.  I was always pretty good about getting a first name if not a full name, and at least trying to relate to them as a human being before yanking up their skirts and bending them over the sofa, so to speak.
4. Someone whose name you knew then but have forgotten?
Yes, several.  I can often recall the sex with above-average clarity considering the amount of time that’s passed, but when I do I usually regard the person along the lines of “that girl I had sex with that time.”
5. Someone who you suspect may have forgotten you?
Doubtful.  My ego is such that I doubt anyone I’ve had sex with has ever been able to forget me, and in fact never will.  I’m certain that they’ve all been pining for me constantly, and in fact consider me the high bar that each of their subsequent lovers failed to reach.  Sorry, ladies.
Bonus question: Someone you wish you could forget?
Not really.  There are certainly people with whom I’ve had sex that I didn’t particularly like, or in fact actively disliked.  There are people with whom I’m certainly glad to no longer be involved.  I’m sure there are instances wherein the sex I had with another person was so bad it’s probably better forgotten, though off-hand I can’t really think of any.  But to wish to forget about one or more of my past lovers, to go for the total mind-wipe, seems a bit extreme to me.  The things I’ve done throughout my thirty-six years on this planet (and others) make me who I am today.  The people I’ve fucked are part of that.  A big part, in fact.  While some of the relationships I’ve been in weren’t necessarily my proudest moments, I don’t think I’d ever want to totally forget them.  It’s not about me not wanting to disrespect the people I was with as much as it is about me wanting to honor the sum of my experiences.
Jill’s Answers

1. Have you ever had sex with someone famous or who later became famous, if only locally?
As far as I know I have not done this.  However, a friend of mine from high school has been on a couple reality TV shows, and recently appeared on a very well-known daytime talk show.  However, I didn’t have sex with her.  Also, a close family friend is a prominent professional athlete.  Again, no sex.

2. In the spirit of Six Degrees of Separation, have you had sex with someone who had sex with someone who had sex with someone who . . . someone famous?
Yes I have.  In my twenties I briefly dated a guy who was something of a groupie for a local all-female band who has since become very well-known.  

3. In the opposite direction, have you had sex with someone whose name you didn’t know?
No, I’ve always gotten someone’s name before going to bed with them.  I can understand the excitement of having reckless, irresponsible sex with someone you hardly know, because I’ve kind of done that.  There’s something hot about the thought of anonymous or semi-anonymous sex.  I’ve just never actually done it, and I’m pretty sure I never will.  On the other hand, the guy who famously assfucked me without lubing me up or even asking permission had given me a fake name, so while I knew his name, it wasn’t his actual name.

4. Someone whose name you knew then but have forgotten?
I remember the names of most of the guys I’ve had sex with, but the names of my one-night stands are long forgotten.

5. Someone who you suspect may have forgotten you?
The first person that came to mind was a particular one-night stand who I barely knew.  Even though I completely rocked his world, I have to acknowledge that he has likely forgotten all about me.

Bonus question: Someone you wish you could forget?
If I could pick one part of my sexual history to completely wipe out, it would be the guy who was my answer to #3.  Unfortunately I can’t do that.  If I had known going in to the experience what I know now, I never would have slept with him.  Although I am capable of looking back on that experience and seeing how it was partially responsible for shaping me into the woman I am today, I don’t look back with any fondness or wistfulness.  I am not ashamed of the incident but I certainly wish it hadn’t happened.  Although as a blogger I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of the incident, if I could forget about it I would, without hesitation.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Formspring Friday: An Easy Decision

If Jill were diagnosed with breast CA and some form of mastectomy was suggested, would you hesitate? Some women such as myself wouldn’t, but my breasts aren’t that important to me or my sex life. 

(Submitted by Pagan Princess)

My mother is a breast cancer survivor.  She underwent a mastectomy fifteen years ago and made a full recovery.  I know that had she not had the mastectomy her outlook wouldn’t have been as good, and she might not have beaten the cancer.  If it meant possibly saving my own life, I wouldn’t hesitate to get a mastectomy.  It isn’t even up for debate, though I would certainly discuss it with Jack beforehand, if only to inform him of my intention.  He loves me unconditionally, and I know that his feelings wouldn’t change just because I no longer had breasts.  I know that he would be in favor of any procedure that might help with my recovery.

I love my boobs.  They are important to me, and to Jack as well.  However, neither of us love them enough to compromise my health for their sake.  I don’t believe that having a mastectomy would make me any less of a woman, nor do I think that Jack would be less attracted to me physically, or less connected to me emotionally.  I also know that doctors can perform some sort of reconstructive surgery following a mastectomy, so if the absence of my breasts somehow proved to be a problem, I have that option.  Fortunately I do not believe that the loss of my breasts would pose any kind of problem for Jack, as I know he will be glad to have a healthy wife.  The bottom line is that I would do whatever I have to do in order to be healthy and maintain my quality of life.

-Jill

If you want to ask us a sexy question, drop us a line on Formspring, or use the handy Formspring widget on the right-hand side of our blog.  To see who else participated this week, search #FormspringFriday on Twitter!  If you have a Formspring account and you aren’t already participating, feel free to join in the Formspring Friday fun!

The Naughty Hangout: Jack’s Thanksgiving Feast

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States.  Accordingly, the main theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Eating”.  Our photo depicts me eating heartily.

No mouseover this week, I’m afraid.  But the red panties dangling from Jill’s right ankle are the perfect interpretation of the secondary theme this week, “Silky”.

See who else is being naughty this week!

Wicked Wednesday: Lunch Break


The waiter filled my water glass and said something about my lunch coming out soon.  I nodded without speaking or looking up from my BlackBerry.  The email still hadn’t come through.  I checked it again.
The summer sun blazed above me, making me wish I’d asked for a seat inside the restaurant.  I felt sweat dripping down my neck, soaking the collar of my white dress shirt.  I reached up to loosen my tie, but then stopped abruptly and lowered my hand.  I didn’t need Mr. Swinton giving me a hard time about my wardrobe when I got back to the office.
I checked my email one more time to no avail, and then I shifted my mind from the Marcusson account to thoughts of my turkey club on white, hold the bacon.  I’d ordered it every Tuesday for eight months, with the exception of one fateful Tuesday when I chanced to order a pastrami Reuben with Swiss cheese and Russian dressing.  The heartburn I got from eating it taught me a lesson I’d never forget.
I gazed out at the fountain across the street, much as I did every Tuesday while I waited for my lunch.  Water cascaded from the top of an elegant three-tiered pedestal, filling a concrete basin below.  For a moment I was mesmerized by the sight of the water, and I imagined myself hiking up a mountain to the edge of a waterfall, standing beneath bright sunshine and then stripping down to my shorts and diving from the cliff into the cool water below.
And then I saw her.  It had been three years or maybe more, but she was unmistakable.  She wore a light blue sundress and sandals, her blonde hair reflecting the sun’s rays.  When I saw that unabashed and unapologetic smile, those teeth that seemed to be the inspiration of the expression “pearly whites”, I was transported back in time.  We’d met in a bar one evening, I’d had one Tom Collinses too many, and I asked her out.  We dated for a few weeks, and we had a lot of fun.  But we both knew it wouldn’t last.  We just weren’t a good match.
She kicked off her sandals, and a young guy with purple hair helped her climb onto the basin.  He was small and wiry, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of tan cargo shorts, plus black combat boots.  I wondered if he was her boyfriend.  All at once, she turned and jumped down into the water.  She ran around the pedestal, water pouring down on her and saturating her yellow locks.  They hung down over her face, her wet sundress clinging to her thin body.  She laughed boisterously, the noise drawing the attention of the other diners sitting around me.
Her boyfriend climbed into the fountain and they splashed around for awhile, chasing each other around the pedestal.  They performed a cheek-to-cheek slow dance to imaginary music, though their moves were more chaotic than classy.  At one point he moved to dip her, and as he did she raised her leg up so that her foot passed his ear.  He held her like that for a moment, and it was then that I noticed that he wasn’t wearing his shorts anymore.
He spun her around and bent her over, and held her hips as they slammed their bodies together like a couple of rutting dogs.  By now most of the patrons had gotten up from their chairs and were straining for a closer look.  I picked up my BlackBerry and tried to busy myself with work.  But even though I couldn’t see what was happening, I could hear it, and let’s just say that she’d never made noises like those when she was with me.
“Turkey club on rye with – HOLY SHIT!”  The waiter tossed the plate down on the table in front of me and joined the patrons in gawking at the spectacle across the street.  She brayed like some sort of barnyard animal experiencing estrus, and as her cries reached a crescendo I noticed a police car pulling up across the street.  
Two officers got out and ordered the couple out of the fountain.  They climbed down reluctantly, still laughing and touching each other playfully.  The officers threw blankets over them to cover their nakedness, and herded them into the back seat of their vehicle.  As the car sped off, I shook my head, embarrassed for her.  I was glad I’d dumped her.  Otherwise that might have been me getting driven downtown for processing.
I took a bite of my sandwich, eager to get back to my cubicle and start working on the Marcusson account.  If only that damned email would come through.