Sinful Sunday Week # 33

Welcome back to Sinful Sunday! Today’s judge is last week’s winner, SheViking!

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 33 judge

Sheviking is a descendant of Vikings, but is rather a gentle soul, who cries when watching the news and hates violence of any kind. By day she’s a mother of two, wife of one, university student, and a part time teacher. At night, when her RL allows it, she writes stories about love, drama, and, of course, Vikings.

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 prompt in some way. Have fun with it, and synonyms are accepted! (If you use a word other than the synonyms listed, please include that information after your entry.) The word minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle!

Word Prompt:

DeflorationThe loss of virginity from the rupture of a virgin’s hymen (or flower), typically through the first experience of sexual-intercourse or by other means. The terms deflowering and defloration imply that a woman is deprived of something, namely the flower of virginity. See deflower for synonyms.

Photo prompts: (There are two today, so take your pick, or use both.)

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction Week 33 prompt 1 Sinfuls Sunday #flashfiction week 33 prompt 2

Disclaimer: The author does not claim to have taken any of the photographs used as prompts. All imagery was found in the public domain via Tumblr.

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



  1. “Mr. Andrews, we shouldn’t,” I whisper urgently. However, my hardening nipples quickly give me away. Of course I want this. I’ve loved him from afar for years, and I’ve saved myself just for him. He used to just be my dad’s poker buddy; but, now, he’s mine. All mine. Well, he will be after he decides to tell my family and his own kids about us.

    “Shhh,” he says temptingly against my lips. “Don’t you want your birthday present?”

    I feel my face flush at his words. Defloration. It’s something we’d agreed upon during a late night—and completely scandalous—make-out session in his car. My thirty-nine-year-old boyfriend had asked me what I want for my eighteenth birthday, and I’d known right away what he could give me.

    “Yes, please.” My voice is sultry and foreign, something unexpected.

    I’m really wet down there, and his long erection begins to slip inside. The pressure I feel is uncomfortably intense, and I squeeze his biceps to keep from crying out. One simple push of his length and my virginity is lost. Now he’ll always have this part of me. I really hope I’ll always have him.

    Words: 198

  2. AnnaLund2011 says:


    “Oh, for all that’s holy, just put it in me already, come on!”

    “I love it when you try to talk dirty to me, baby, but you really need to work on your rendition of what comes through as truly sexy.” His smile widened as he continued. “You look so good like this. All mine. Just for me. Fresh. Unspoiled.”

    “Oh, for fuck’s sake, who are you? And from what century? It’s not like I’m going to be destroyed, and useless, and worthless ten minutes from now, just because your dick’s going to have been inside me. Which, I might add, it has not, yet. Get to it, man!”

    Lube spilling, lining up, going in, taking a moment to keep it slow, and then BAM! cherry popped, followed by smiles, moans, kisses, slow sighs, in turn followed by pants, curses, moaning, rhythmic slapping, screaming, keening, more moaning, cussing, and finally, turning back to soothing, caressing, adoring, loving.

    Deed done. Love had. Cherry popped. These days, it’s not such a big deal. Especially when both are sporting whisker-burns.

    “Now, what can we do next time? I know SO much stuff we need to try!”

    Boys will be boys, even after deflowering.


    Word count: 200, on the nose
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011
    Note: Using “cherry-popping” and “deflowering” as synonyms of “defloration”, and also boys are virgins, so this is why I’m poppin’ boy-cherries here, all cheerful and happy and shit. Is that against the rules? Sue me.

  3. Antonio Angelo says:

    She was truly beautiful, in every sense of the word, kind heart, vibrant smile, a body conditioned and built from swimming, hundreds of laps a week building towards a dream that would never come. She was seventeen and had already failed at life. Nothing short of the Olympics mattered, not boys, not college not a career, and here she sat lost in tears lost in life talking to another kid who felt life hadn’t even begun.

    “I think I might be a lesbian.”

    “How would you know that, you have never even dated a boy?”

    “Or a girl.” She continued.

    “I would take you out.” I said

    “I am a mess.”

    “You are beautiful and driven and everything I am not.”

    We did in fact go out, for pizza and milkshakes and all the things she had denied herself while training for a dream now dead. She kissed me first, it was awkward and quick and wonderful. I kissed her back and in a park under a tree I deflowered her as she deflowered me. It was laughter and tears worry and fears, set aside as she pretended to like boys and I most certainly confirmed a like of girls.

  4. MarchHare5 says:

    Her awkward stance, the way her shoulders curled in on themselves in a vain attempt to hide her naked breasts, screamed of her innocence. She was young; she’d have to be, living here and still untouched.

    I wondered briefly if anyone had claimed her mouth yet.

    I pushed her forward over the chair, and her whole body trembled.

    My host wouldn’t dare deceive me, but with feigned tenderness, I pulled back her nether lips to expose that little pink membrane that proved I’d be her first.

    Her whimper brought a smile to my face as I pumped a finger in and out while circling my thumb over her clit. Her breath picked up, and I smirked as her wetness grew.

    I quickly disrobed, and she yelped when I threw her to the bed and rolled her to her back. I preferred fucking from behind, but with virgins I needed to see their faces.

    The girl turned her head away and screwed her eyes shut. Unacceptable.

    “Look at me!”

    With a gasp she looked into my eyes, then screamed when I thrust inside her.

    Hot. Slick. Tight. So fucking tight. There was nothing better than despoiling virgin pussy.

    Word count: 197
    Twitter: @3Hare5
    Synonym: Despoil

  5. Moments.

    Sitting along the wall, the city hummed behind them, but the silence of interest in each other created walls around their bodies.

    He knew he wouldn’t be the first to deflower her if it went that far, but he didn’t care.
    All that mattered was right now, this moment in their lives, and what they meant to each other.

    She was in the middle if a sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself any longer.
    Her words were there, but unheard as his focused moved to future moments.

    Leaning forward while she was mid-sentence, he cupped her face with his right hand and pulled her lips to his for a long sustaining kiss they both wanted.
    They spoke through the slowness of the moment as it grew a connection.

    No words were needed when they pulled away.
    They stood up and started to instinctively walk back to his place, both wet with anticipation…

    Words: 157

  6. Gingerandgreen says:

    I’m trying hard not to be shy, and she’s full of silly words about my ‘grand defloration’. But I’m grateful, because I have to be the last virgin at college.

    We undress each other. It isn’t smooth like the movies. Her hair gets tangled; it must hurt like hell before I loosen it. Her bra stumps me. She helps, and I can’t stop staring.

    I stop breathing when she inspects my dick. She seems pleased. She bends down to kiss it, and giggles when it jumps – hits her nose. I want to laugh too, but I’ve already got this huge grin; I kinda snort.

    She suckles me. I wonder if I’ll die of pleasure; then I come too fast, and she has to swallow. She’s so sweet – pretends not to mind, and funny thing is, I hardly soften at all.

    I roll on top. She’s incredibly soft. She helps me get it in, and if I thought her mouth was hot… Fuck. Her pussy clutches me in its wet, warm hold and my hips move instinctually. I stare into her eyes the whole time. I see pride, hope, trepidation and satisfaction.

    Wonder what she sees in mine.

    200 words by @Gingerandgreen

  7. She was nervous, as any girl would be, she supposed.

    Carefully prepared, she was placed naked on a bed unlike she had ever seen in her life. Tonight would the night of her defloration, a ritual that had been planned ever since she had bled for the first time.

    A great honor, too, considering who would take her.

    It didn’t make her fear go away.

    She hoped he would be nice. Yet, as determined as she had been to meet his gaze as he stepped into the room, her eyes clenched shut, unable to watch.

    He was gentle as a caress when he joined her on the bed. His hands touched her knowingly, undisturbed by her thin fingers encircling his wrists in alarm.

    “Have no fear,” he whispered, his fingers traveling from her neck to her navel, and further down, to a place she couldn’t believe could evoke so much feeling.

    Just as the pressure became unbearable and she wanted to beg him to stop, he rolled on top of her, penetrating her without hesitation.

    Crying out in the confusion of pleasure and pain, gripping his bicep in her search for an anchor, she almost missed his declaration.


    199 words

  8. “Do you remember our library,” she asked, crawling up the bed in her clingy slip, straddling him. She pulled his book and glasses away, putting both on the nightstand.

    Leaning back, he grinned. “Of course.”

    “The short wall outside we’d sit on.”

    He laughed. “You’d always throw your legs across my lap, and I’d get so fucking hard.”

    Sliding his hands up her thighs, he watched silk give way to skin.

    “Remember deflowering me?”

    His smile faded as he remarked, “I was green. I hurt you.”

    She hummed an agreement, breath sweet against his face. “Only for a second, and then…”

    He groaned, remembering ‘and then.’ That moment fumbling turned to gliding, awkward to perfection.

    “You made me feel so good,” she praised, rocking softly against his rising cock.

    He took her hips, rolling her beneath him. “Yeah?” he asked, like he didn’t remember every second.

    “Oh, yeah,” she murmured, taking his hand, guiding him between her legs, panties wet, pussy even wetter when he brushed them aside. He pressed deep, thumb to her clit.

    “Loved feeling you come, babe. Still do. Give it to me.”

    She shuddered and buried her face in his neck, giving perfectly, just like always.
    . . . . . .

    200 words

  9. The autumn air was crisp; the cement we rested on outside the dorm was cold enough to make me tremble.

    “Come here, baby,” my boyfriend suggested. I lazily scoot closer, then turn sideways and end up resting my legs across his lap. His arm immediately claims them as he leans into me. “You’re so beautiful.”

    We kiss chastely, though it’s enough to ignite the flame of passion that had been building for months.

    “Let’s go somewhere only we know,” he hinted. I knew he meant our favorite place to make out.

    * * * * * *

    He laid beside me on the air mattress, completely bare for the first time.

    “You’re so… so big!” I was at a loss for words. I had never been this far before, so I was completely beside myself.

    He laughed and said with a smirk, “It gets bigger.”

    “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I asked, still fully clothed.

    He shook his head and responded, “Eventually.”

    * * * * * *

    Three years later, he deflowered me on our honeymoon. I’ll never forget feeling his course chest hair tickle my soft skin and nipples. I was sore, but we’ve had an incredible sex life since.

    Word count: 191
    Note: Tense changed from the true word prompt. I used “deflowered,” prompt is “defloration.”

  10. He pushes those adorkable glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. I think he’s going to tell me that throwing my legs over his lap in public is improper.

    Before he can, I slide closer and lean into his space until he can’t resist the gravitational pull of my mouth. Making David kiss me is my superpower.

    “Oh,” he says like he’s always surprised by the intensity—the existence—of his desire. Descending on my lips with the same singular determination he uses to solve scary equations, he smiles. “I want you to deflower me.”

    I choke on a giggle. From him, this statement is nearly romantic. “Do you have daisies that need plucking?”

    “When did you…” He draws a precise heart on my thigh with the tip of his finger and taps the center. A fucking heart.

    His tap zings electric and I squirm. Tease. Our lips nearly touching. “Use your words, David.”

    “Lose your virginity?”

    I widen my eyes, feigning shock. “Are you sure I did?”

    “At our age, virginity is improbable.” This isn’t a judgment, just a statement of fact.

    Finally his tongue slips against mine. David’s superpower is making me love him.

    200 words

  11. “You know I love you, right?”


    “And I would never do anything to hurt you, because I love you.”


    “You know I would do everything within my ability to help you. I’d give my right arm for you.”


    “So what’s the problem?”


    “Are you scared? I know what it feels like. It’ll be okay, though, I promise.”

    “Yes, I admit it.. I’m afraid everyone will know and tease me afterward.”

    “It doesn’t show, though. Do I look different to you? You’ve known me since kindergarten.”

    “No, you look like you always do. You look confident.”

    “You’ll feel more confident afterward, I can’t deny that.”

    “Okay, let’s do it. I hereby appoint you my Chief of Defloration.”

    “Thank you, I will make this as easy and painless as possible. When would you like to do this?”

    “Now. Let’s take care of this now. I want to get this out of the way and enjoy you without this hanging over our heads.”

    “Okay. Let’s go to my room. I’m pretty excited about this.”

    “You? You’re excited?”

    “Yup. It’s not every day a girl gets to pop a boy’s cherry.”

    He took her hand and smiled, relieved.

    198 words

  12. They weren’t two teenagers in a lust infused race to ‘pop their cherry’.

    They were adults who had waited for this moment. For that spark. For the love that consumed them from within.

    It wasn’t about dressing up on prom night with a tight dress and ridiculous heels.

    It was about being herself in her worn in Chucks and his stolen Batman shirt.

    It wasn’t about the hotel room borrowed for the night or the champagne they were barely legal to drink.

    It was the beer and pizza, in their spot, in their poky little apartment they proudly called home.

    It wasn’t about rounding bases. It was kisses along her shoulder. It was about that kiss under her ear which never failed to put a smile on her face. It was that moment where he stopped and looked down at her; hair fanned around her, smile on her face but the twinge of apprehension only he could see.

    “Are you sure?” he asks, overwhelmed by emotions and the feeling of him in all the right places, she nods a watery smile and pulls him closer.

    “I’ve waited for this moment. For you.”

    “I love you so much, you know that?”

    Word Count: 200

    ‘Pop their Cherry’ instead of deflowering.

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