Original Fiction: Park Bench Love

September 15, 2008
Deepti Lamba

"I like voluptuous women."

She raised a shapely eyebrow.

He looked sheepish and blushed.

She thought he was cute.

"What I meant is- I like women with meat on their bones. I like to hold a woman when I - you know- " He blushed again and shrugged.

She wanted to jump his bones. He pressed his thigh against hers. The crickets in the park whistled, the goldfish swam lazily in the pools and the smell of wet earth moistened by the roving sprinklers assailed her senses. A homeless tramp waved a brown papered bottle at them and hobbled away. It was close to midnight and she had left the party to go out with a friend of a friend. A remote friend.

Instead of coffee he took her to the park. He seemed safe- the boy next door type.

She let him close. She let him smell her hair. She blushed and felt breathless. His fingers lightly trailed over her breasts and she trembled when he pulled the neck of the blouse down and took the plump muscle out.

The nipple peaked like a ripe cherry in the cool air. He licked and she held the back of his head.

The hair on his nape was soft like the cotton from a warm quilt and his teeth hard. He bit and she swooned.

She felt her world churn. She bled from her nipple. He moved up to the base of her neck where the nerve rapped a silent tune and she bled some more. She was a river of pleasure. Death was a pleasure.

He wrapped her tenderly in his arms. Her first and only lover. He liked his women full waisted. There was more woman to hold, more blood, more memories and a warmer embrace even if the love lasted the sweetest shortest while.

The drunk hobo sang a Bob Dylan song close by. A bird fluttered overhead, the sprinklers rotated and the bats looked for sweet fruits. He laid his dead love gently on the park bench and kissed the soft skin one last time.

"So long my sweet." He whispered "Sleep well but know I loved you well if only for a few minutes."

Deepti Lamba is a writer, an editor for Desicritics. She can be found at Things That Bang
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September 15, 2008
04:12 PM

I wasn't expecting a vampire tale, Deepti. Nu, in return, I have a vampire story for you - an old old vampire story....

Therese was watching the horror movie late on Saturday night. The commercial came on with a fat slob in a construction helmet selling the department store that was open to union members only. "What's the story Jerry?" said the announcer to the fat man in the construction helmet.

Therese's eyes began to glaze over as she waited for the endless commercial to finally be over and for the movie to resume.

Suddenly, she noticed a shadow outside her window, which happened to be a French window, that opened up like a door does. The shadow darkened the window and the lock on it fell off. The shadowed figure pushed the window open and began to advance into the room. Therese felt cold sweat popping out of her head. Fear nearly made her wet her panties.

She saw the dark figure push the hood off his head, and she saw a cape and a man facing her with long sharpened canines advancing on her bed.

She screamed.

The man with the sharp canines only smiled - a mirthless grimace that exposed his pale white skin and even more of his canine teeth and made him seem like the monstrous vampire he indeed was.

Panicking, Therese backed upon her headboard, desperate for help. She suddenly remembered the cross over her bed, and reached up, grabbing it off the nail that held it.

The nail clattered to the floor.

She stretched out the cross in front of her face, sure of the salvation it would give her against the blood-sucking monster she now confronted.

"Begone!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Begone, vampire! Begone!" she screamed.

The vampire stopped his advance for a moment and a really big smile broke out on his face. This time the mirth in it reached his eyes, which sparkled like sapphires in the shadows. He said something in a language she could not understand.

But in her mind she could hear the words the man spoke as he reached an aged hand into his black coat where his collar parted at a white neck. She watched in horror as the gold necklace came out and she slowly made out the shape.

"Lady, that cross ain't going to help you", she heard in her head as she looked at the six pointed Star of David facing her.

Shloimey the Vampire advanced on his newest victim...

September 15, 2008
05:27 PM

Dee, I was intrigued by this story... I liked it, found it engaging.

one point of contention. a breast is not made of muscle. I mean, OK, the pectoral is underneath... but the breast itself is not a muscle...it's just fat tissues and ducts. when you said "plump muscle" I thought you were saying he took, well... IT out. you know... :)

September 15, 2008
05:38 PM


I realize that there is a certain literary license involved in writing stories - one occasionally sees the phrase "love muscle" - but unless I misunderstand you, IT - well, IT is not a muscle either. If it were, exercising would be a whole lot more fun. Even I could be talked into it. And bragging about "muscular development" would be a very different art from what it is now....

September 15, 2008
06:03 PM

LOOOOOL, well that is what I was thinking when she said it. cause yeah, IT is often colloquially referred to in just the way you mentioned.

and I did not realize men needed a reason to spank the monkey, so to speak. most everyone I know is like "oh look! a wall!" (insert wanking here)

sorry, dee, for the rather rude sidetrack

Deepti Lamba
September 15, 2008
11:43 PM

Good one Ruvy and well yeah, SS neither of them are muscles (you two really had a ball over it;)) and the idea of him nipping himself is really out there even for a vampire story;)

September 16, 2008
12:20 AM


enjoyed it

now tell me who is the real lychnobite?

Deepti Lamba
September 16, 2008
02:28 AM

Currently me

September 16, 2008
12:59 PM

Shobha De ...watch out ...here comes Deepti Lamba

September 16, 2008
04:28 PM

Rippling, hard muscles. Firm six pack. Tight, round butt. He undresses you hurriedly. Your pulse is racing. You open your eyes to see a chiseled twenty-five-year-old face with the look of fiery hunger burning in his eyes. He wants you desperately. You want him madly. Your kisses are delicious and wet and deep and full. Your passion builds. Your breath comes faster. He pumps faster and faster, harder and harder ...

Sound good? Before you decide, consider this: The whole scene, start to finish, took twenty minutes, max.

and now a twist

September 16, 2008
04:49 PM


ha ha! nice twist there. at my age, i cannot but agree!

Deepti Lamba
September 16, 2008
10:03 PM

And there is the saying- You can't teach an old dog new tricks;)

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