Flash Fiction Friday,  microfiction

The Early Bird

The sound of ripping fabric pulls me from sleep. Panic in pitch black, my eyes suddenly wide, yet unable to see. Breath held, pulse pounding.

“Hold still.”

Your strong, deep voice lends order to my confused senses, and my body instinctively falls in line.

Another high-pitched tear, and then I feel the room’s cool whisper on my exposed skin. It was a lovely nightgown before now: lavender and transparent…soft cotton.

You pull it from beneath me, the edge lace scratching the flesh beneath my thighs.

So easily made naked, I lie beneath you, warm and ready. My legs spreading without request, I feel myself respond before you even enter, my cunt grabbing uncontrollably at itself, a baby bird starving for sustenance.

5 o’clock in the morning is a time of deep darkness here, but your heat overcomes my senses. My lids press together so tightly in anticipation that flashes of bright light, green and blue and white, fill my consciousness.

“The early bird…” I whisper.

And you dive into me, cracking me open to the morning.

(175 words)

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