The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 15)

The tidal bore smashed through the dike when his left thumb stroked my precious pearl. The undertow of my third consecutive orgasm swept my consciousness away. I vaguely remember swooning, and shoulders pinning my knees to my chest. Then, hot fluid splattering my skin. The room spun as we waltzed. Velvet tickled my thighs. There was a damp cloth draped across my breasts. The ticking clock sounded overly loud. At one of the floor to ceiling windows, the warm morning light was partially eclipsed by a short man, hands behind his back, staring out at the brick enclosed herb garden.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.


  1. I love this. You’ve completely managed to make me feel like I’m inside Ruby in the last few posts (to coin a phrase…). But it’s not just the content that grabs me here: stylistically, this works so well, the short sentences evoking her clipped, semi-conscious memory, followed that beautiful contrast with the last sentence, which sent shivers up my spine.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It requires discipline to transition w/i 100 words to a new direction. Rather than draw out the action, the last line creates a jolt to our lassitude.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You’re nothing if not disciplined. I’m sure I couldn’t do it anywhere near as well as you. I thought the last line was perfectly placed, and has exactly the desired effect.


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