Sinful Sunday Week # 20

Welcome to another Sinful Sunday!  (And happy Superbowl Sunday!) This week’s judge is last week’s champion and second-time judge Lisa McCourt Hollar!

As you may know, I like to make things a bit more difficult…erm, I mean challenging for my judges the second time around. So today we have a theme in addition to two word prompts and as two photo prompts!

If you’re unfamiliar with the usual Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction contest rules, please check them out! You must use both the photo prompts and word prompts (and today, the theme) in some way. The  word minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle!


Forbidden Love

Word prompts:

Back-alleyA red-light district.

Painted womanEuphemism for a prostitute

Photo prompts:


Get those steamy thoughts going! You have until midnight EST to get your flash fiction in!


  1. It wasn’t strictly forbidden for the working girls to wear something other than miniskirts or booty shorts, but when I made my back-alley rounds, I wanted a woman in tight jeans.

    I wanted to defile her wholesomeness. I wanted to peel her out of something any good girl could wear. I wanted, most of all, to look at her tight, professionally-toned ass as she walked with a purpose, and then I wanted to bend her over and fuck her.

    She had other ideas, pushing me up against the wall, and as we made it to the floor (after some of our clothes already had), and breathed huskily, “I’m not a prostitute, but if you ask real nice, I’ll pretend for you…. Officer.”


  2. Push me against the wall and trap my wrists in your demanding grasp. Devour me.

    Your clothed chest, my naked one; our beating hearts.

    There’s nothing but lust and filthy thoughts in this back alley. We fit right in. You’re no painted woman, but you might as well be.

    You take your tank top off and we fall to the floor. You’re on top. Controlling, commanding; as usual. I’m powerless, just like you want me.

    Our jeans create the right amount of friction as we grind against each other. It’s everything I thought it would be. I can feel the dirt beneath me, tainting my back with our actions.

    I try to take control, imprisoning your mouth with mine. You bite my lip until it bleeds. There’s just no fighting you. Even if I had it in me to try, I’m at your mercy.

    For a second I wonder the consequences of my choices, but then your hand grabs my dick and I have no conscience. Just like you.

    Weeks of unresolved sexual tension have lead to this.

    “You weren’t innocent.” I say, searching for a truth that I know won’t make a difference.

    “No, judge, I was not.”

    199 words.

  3. Dumping trash into a bus bin, learning Pop’s back-alley business from the bottom up, I jumped when a hand landed on my ass.

    “Where’s Julia?”

    Her voice was a sandpaper stroke. With her breast pressing into my back, I didn’t care what she wanted with Pop’s newest wife. I pointed towards the kitchen.

    She was back before the door stopped swinging. “Fuck you, Mom.”

    A bar envelope hit the floor, a stack of twenties slipped free. I followed her out.
    “You dropped this.”

    Pushed up against the wall, I was back in the cage of her body, harder than the brick scraping my shoulders.
    “Most guys handing me that, expect something in return.”

    “I don’t.”

    “You’re his kid, aren’t you?” More accusation than question.

    She peeled my shirt off as I nodded, pinned my arms above my head.
    “I’m going to use you. Do you like to hurt?” She kneed my cock.

    Use. Hurt. A confusing jolt to my already humming body. “Yes.”

    Writhing in the dirt, everything centered on the hot clench of her cunt. Her breath scalded me, branded me.

    I came instantly.

    With the pretense of a kiss, she slipped the envelope into my jeans.

  4. ~Nailed You~

    She emerged from thinning fog, a siren in skin-tight jeans, six-inch stilettos ticking against damp pavement as her fingers trailed along the bricks. She tilted her head, laughing throatily.

    “Want a good time?”

    He hesitated. A fight with his girlfriend and too many drinks sent him to back-alleys searching for a hooker.

    Taking silence as acquiescence, she pushed him against the wall and lifted the hem of his shirt, scraping long nails over his sensitive skin.

    Clothes fell away.

    Lips met in searing kisses.

    Before he realized it, she’d straddled him on the ground. He rubbed calloused hands over her denim-clad ass then up the delicate skin of her back. Silken strands of flaxen hair spilled over his face and chest as they made out.

    She slinked down his body, unbuckling his belt, freeing him. “Nice.” She stretched crimson lips over the head, taking him fully into her mouth and throat.

    To his shame, it was over too soon.

    She swallowed him down and licked her lips on the way back up.

    “Wanna make me come now?”


    She angled the dagger down with all her strength, breaking through his sternum and triggering her long awaited release.

    200 #WIP500 words

  5. Witness

    Trina got a nice place down the back alley, abandoned garage with windows broke out but solid brick walls. She keep a ladder hid, so folks don’t know about the loft where she sleep during daytime. Sometimes, she lets me crash there, but I gotta get out before she start working.

    Only I been sick for a couple three days, so she let me rest up while she do her thing. That how I come to watch her shove that nice-looking boy against the wall, stretch him out so I can see he muscles bulging. And other things. I held my breath so I didn’t let on I was watching her rub against him as he make them sounds go right to my nethers. I could almost taste the salt she licked from he skin, flicking tongue over nipple.

    One hand covered my mouth, I was panting so hard. The other covered something else, grinding like she did with he underneath her, unheeding of the dirt floor, just happy she skin touching his. He think she a painted lady, right up until she bit into his neck. He bucked, thrust, and moaned with pleasure as she nearly drunk him dry.

    200 words (sans title)

  6. antonio angelo says:

    They call you a painted lady, hundreds of men have shared your body, I among them ponying up the 200 bucks for fifteen minutes of heaven, three days’ work in some cases like mine, I eat less than I should, I work longer than I should, Just to put that two hundred together so my Friday night isn’t spent completely alone. I don’t have the words other men have, I may not be much to look at, and my body was built swinging hammers and carrying wood, not on protein shakes and gym memberships. I know you must have better prospects the only thing I have to offer is a small one bedroom apartment and a man who loves you more than anything in this whole wide world it has to be better than this back alley life?

    She took my money and smiled, said I was sweet like a child. Against the wall I went, until all my money was spent. Then she said this is for free, into the dirt went we. She kissed me like no other had, I could feel a sense of sad. Tears fell upon my chest, for 200 bucks nothing less. Next week?

    200 words

  7. Sam Overton says:

    My eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting of the back alley, and I make my way to where he’s standing, against the red brick wall directly in front of me. He is shirtless, wearing only faded ripped jeans and a sexy smile. Wanting to make a good impression on him, I grab his wrists and thrust them up against the wall over his head. I give him a sensual kiss on his lips and then kiss down to the small facial hairs that cover his sculpted chin. He laughs, “I didn’t think that you would do this for money. Are you a prostitute?”
    “No, this is different.”
    “Painted woman?”
    I actually laughed, he was such a smart ass. Forcefully pushing on his broad shoulders, I bring both of us down to the hard ground. I have to be on top. He gently pulls my tank top over my head and throws it out of the way. Kissing me, his hand moves to the small of my back and then down inside my jeans, so that his fingers lightly brush the inside lining of my lace panties.
    “I love you,” I whisper.
    “I love you too, sister.”

    Words: 199

    Twitter: darklybeautiful

  8. Gingerandgreen says:

    I’m sorry, I’m too ill to write today but there are some amazing entries as always, and I wanted to wish you all luck xxx

  9. Kit Neuhaus says:

    She was calculated as she walked through the diner. Every eye was on her, but the blaze of his eyes penetrated her. She smiled.

    Her playground may have been far from a red-light district back alley, but Savannah knew the truck stop was no different. Neither was she.

    Outside, she leaned against the building and waited for her prey to emerge. He didn’t disappoint. He smiled and nodded toward his rig. She followed, swaying her hips triumphantly.

    She found herself pinned against the cold metal of his truck and the smooth steel stung her exposed skin.

    He reached up, opened the door, and motioned her inside. She climbed in and he pounced, hovering over her hungrily. His hands were anxious, his lips punishing.

    He slipped a bill into her bra as she slid her jeans down her legs. He unbuttoned his, and she closed her eyes, moaning when she felt him enter her. He was young, quick and eager, and he made her feel alive. It was always in that first moment when she was able to forget who she was. She could pretend she was something they wanted, not needed.

    191 words

  10. “Did I say you could move?”

    She brought his hands above his head and loved how the tempo of his breath grew faster… more shallow.
    He’d found her working as a painted lady for a few dollars a trick, and turned her into a very wealthy woman. Every Thursday evening at 8:25 she met him in this dirty back-alley so they could play the same game.

    She’d rub her breasts against his chest as he stood immobilized with eyes that never left hers.

    “Get on the ground.” She whispered, and he complied without hesitation.

    She enjoyed this almost as much as she hated it, but it’s what she was paid to do. She lay on top of him. The slow grind of her hips made him grow thicker and longer beneath his denim. She knew it was the thick cock that grew in her jeans that did it for him.

    “I want to see your cock.” He moaned the same thing every week, and he got the same answer every time.


    He bit his lip and erupted with the next thrust. This sweet gig made her sick.

    “Same time next week?” He panted as she stood.

    “I’ll be here.”

    200 words

    ps. Feel better soon @GingerandGreen

  11. His rejection of the prostitute instigated his abrupt exit out the backdoor of the bar leaving him alone in the alley, save the cat watching. The woman he needed was from a painting, not a ‘painted woman.’

    “Why go to a back-alley bar when someone else calls me?” he asked the staring cat. From first sight of The Seductress painting, he was infected, obsessed, aroused. The feline narrowed her eyes at him. She crossed the ground shifting dust beneath her lithe steps, revealing words upon the ground. She sat on a pile of discarded clothes, waiting.

    “What do you want?” he asked her.

    She motioned with her head. His eyes involuntarily followed. He read the etched words aloud.
    The cat began to morph, legs stretching, hair lengthening, female body entwining with the discarded clothing into human form. His Seductress. With feline precision she moved before him in seconds pulling out his shirt, deft fingers undoing buttons, exposing his torso, her hands caressing his chest, his shoulders, tracing down his arms, leaning her chest into him, pushing him against the brick wall, pinning his arms above his head, her lips inches from his…

    “My forbidden love,” she whispered, “submit to me.”

    200 Words

  12. He stands out. Something unique in the crowd of jaded rent boys and painted women with their dead eyes. He’s arrogance personified, stalking his prey. An angel’s face with a smile as cold as Arctic ice. When he steps close he smells like sexed-up sin and corruption.

    Their eyes meet as her trembling fingers graze the neatly folded money in her pocket. An entire alimony check, a throwaway wife’s monetary due.

    “Looking for company, sweetheart?” he asks with practiced ease, almost truly interested, so good at his craft.

    Her nerve fails, and she shakes her head, watching as he shrugs and walks away.

    But in her mind…

    In her mind she says yes, and she’s walking with him. Out to the back alley, up against the wall. She pushes his hands above his head, holds them there. She tells him he’s hers, bought and paid for. She whispers all the filthy things she wants from him. His smirking mouth, his hands all over her skin, his paid-to-please cock. She shoves him down to the dirty ground and tells him to fuck her.

    And in her mind…

    He does.

    190 words
    @Aleeab4u – sneaking this in, nearly last minute. 🙂

  13. Just playing along…

    The Wrong Brother
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    She caught him as he came walking around the corner. She shoved him against the wall, holding his wrists firmly while she pushed her knee in-between his leg.

    “Careful, Liz,” he laughed, nervously. “You push up any harder with that knee and things might get a little… heated.”

    “What are you doing here?” She hissed.

    “Looking for you; your mama’s worried.”

    “And she sent you to look for me. In a back-alley like some common painted woman?”

    “There aint nothing common about you,” Ethan breathed. “I figured you were after John.”

    “You know he’s been coming here?”

    “The man’s a fool. If you had married me…”

    She stepped back. “But I didn’t, I married your brother.”

    Ethan sighed. She’d been promised to his brother when he’d fallen in love with her… the marriage ended a feud that had lasted, well, a long time.

    “Maybe they were right… “She smiled, showing a bit of teeth, “vampires and lycans aren’t meant to mix.”

    “No, they were wrong. And so is John.”

    Ethan kissed her then and they sunk to the ground. Taking the pack leaders mate was forbidden. In the morning he would have to make sure John was no longer Alpha.

    Word Count: 200

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