Re: Short Story Competition
The Colonial Flag
Helen hunched over her desk, carefully running white threads together in a long strip. The needle prodded against the callused skin of her fingertips as she finished the layer, and changed to the red thread. Slowly, she stitched together the Colonial flag, the coming symbol of hope and independence from a mad king.
Leaning back she looked at her handiwork, the running streams of red and white, with a bold blue corner. It was beautiful. Running her hands over the newly stitched fabric, she scarcely heard the door of her home opening.
Her ears only picked up on the approaching sounds of boots, making no effort to be quiet across the wooden floorboards. Helen straightened, and was about to turn when she felt a pair of arms curl around her, lips pressing gently against her neck.
As she was lifted from the floor she giggled in delight, feeling her husband’s arms around her, running up to her breasts.
“Oh how I’ve missed you,” she said, turning her head and arching her neck. James leaned in, clutching at her tighter and kissing her lips hungrily.
“So this is it? Our flag that we’re to march under?” he said with a smile, a sense of pride swelling within him that his wife was the one who stitched the flag that would unite a country against tyranny.
“It is, but I feel like something is missing... I don’t know what else to do with it though,” Helen said, staring down at her work even as she felt her husband loosening the strings of her corset.
“Sleep on it then, get some rest and figure it out in the morning,” James whispered in her ear, gently licking the lobe as he pulled her corset free, feeling her breathing come smoother and easier, and her breasts fall unsupported beneath her dress into his hands.
A soft groaned slipped free from her lips, and she leaned back against her husband, her fingers trailing up his thighs as he kneaded her breasts. Oh how she had missed this while he was out on the battlefield, how she had craved his return for the past fortnight.
Turning within her grasp, she leaned up to hungrily kiss him, feeling the stubble across his jaw graze against her fair skin. With an urgency born of desire, she tore at the buttons of his coat, pushing it off his shoulders before grasping tightly to the hem of the shirt beneath.
The fabric tore as she pulled it free, and he gasped as he felt her hot breath against his skin, followed closely by the moist tongue sliding from between her lips. Teeth bit down on his nipples, making him groan hungrily, his rough hands ripping at the dress hiding the woman underneath.
James could feel himself stiffen as the creamy flesh of his wife was revealed, the gentle curves and slopes offset by the primal hunger burning within her at this moment.
He opened his mouth to say something, but found only a moan coming out as her hands grasped at his cock, before eagerly pulling away his pants, shoving it eagerly down his legs. Grasping her arms tightly, her leaned downwards, kissing and biting at her neck, leaving dark red marks in his wake.
His teeth sunk harder as her fingers wrapped around his manhood, sliding down his shaft and teasing him to full mast. His groans filled the air, mingling with her loud pants of carnal need.
Lifting her up, he set her on the desk, and grinned down at her as she guided him towards her entrance, teasing both of them as she ran over her wet nether lips.
One hand on her shoulder, he roughly shoved her down onto the desk, and clambered atop her. She writhed beneath him, feeling the newly stitched flag sliding across the skin of her back, her hands running over his hand, savouring the feel of his muscles beneath flesh.
A loud moan burst from Helen’s throat as he shoved himself inside her, her lips finding her neck once more. Her back arched beneath the onslaught of his thrusting hips, his cock sliding deep within the hot comforts of her womanhood. Her soft strokes across his back turned to rough scratches as her nails drew lines across his skin like those upon her own.
The desk creaked dangerously beneath them, rocking with James’ thrusts into his wife, the couple not caring at they poured their lust and love into the other.
With a loud crack, the legs of the desk snapped off. The two, still clutching tight to each other fell to the floor hard. Pain flared through James’ shoulder as his wife collapsed atop him, the flag draped across her shoulders.
Her hips began to move, rocking back and forth atop her love, working his shaft within her, running her nails down his chest as the fabric slowly slid down her bad, crumbling beneath the curve of her rear and atop his lap.
He could feel himself reaching his peak, throbbing within his wife as she moaned louder. Her orgasm boiled within her, making her toes curl in delight as her juices ran down his manhood. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her ass, guiding her deeper down his length as he threw his head back, long hair splaying across the floor as he felt himself burst within Helen just as she reached her climax. Her head thrown back, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders to her breasts shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat.
Helen collapsed atop him, breathing her, her hand softly running down his chest, her lips gently caressing his own.
For a moment there were no words as they simply lay, entangled with each other.
A bolt of panic suddenly shot through Helen, and she scrambled off her husband, grasping the flag nestled between his thighs and held it up. She stared wide eyed at what had taken her so long to create, and heard James laughing behind her.
Three spots of cum had settled on the blue patch in the corner in a semi-circular pattern, already soaked into the cloth and standing in stark contrast to the dye.
“Guess you’ll have to make a new one,” he said.
“I can’t... I was supposed to reveal this tomorrow. If I don’t they’ll give the task to someone else,” she said, biting her lip, before slowly, an idea dawned upon her, and a wicked smile spread across her face.
“Unless I hide it... thirteen stars, for the thirteen colonies,” she said, and James roared out with laughter.
“Made with love,” he said from the floor.