The Lustful Literate: Let Freedom Ring (FFF)

Ahhh...the 50s. The epitome of "America" at a time when things were just so damned...well...American. The fashion, the technology, the language, the "proper niceness". A perfect facade for reality.

Yesterday, I rewatched Revolutionary Road, and so today, for Flash Fiction Friday, the era of the 50s was fresh in my mind. Picture a perfectly groomed lawn, a perfectly straight fence, a perfectly laid quilt, and a perfectly dressed couple with perfect hair. The Jensens. Imagine them lying under the stars having a perfectly proper conversation...about the children, about the future, about the day and their wonderful BBQ party.

Imagine they've thrown back a few too many perfect martinis. And imagine their conversation becomes, well...more "real."

This week's requirements:

Key Phrase: "Let Freedom Ring"
Word Limit: 294
Forbidden Words: Independence, Revolution

"Let Freedom Ring"

(Source)

“Do you think if I fucked you with a firecracker fast enough it would spark?”

Mrs. Jensen giggled and raised her eyebrows at her husband’s ridiculous question, “You could imagine your dick is a firecracker, exploding its sparks into my cunt.”

“I love it when you talk dirty., Mrs. Jensen...How about I just fuck you, plain and simple?”

Mr. Jensen rolled his wife over, flipped up her voluminous skirt, pulled down her lacey panties, and marveled at the soft glow of her ass so white in the darkness of their back yard. The neighborhood was ablaze with the sounds and lights of the 4th. No one was the wiser that the lovely and proper Jensens were celebrating in their own traditional way.

With his pleated pants pooled around his knees, Mr. Jensen pounded the missus from behind and grunted out in time to his thrusts, “Get... your... flag... ready... mama..., the... bomb’s... about... to... blow...”

And as Mrs. Jensen came, she whispered, “Oh, fuck yes....” then loudly pronounced, “LET FREEDOM RING!” Of course...she was being silly. And Mr. Jensen laughed as she pulsed and tightened around his cock. Every year it was a new patriotic phrase, yelled at the top of her lungs to screw with the neighbors.

From across the fence, the responses “Hallelujah!” from one side and from the other side “God bless America!” made them both laugh, as they lay spent on the rumpled quilt.

“America...land of the wonderfully oblivious. I’m just grateful for the freedom to fuck my wife in the wide open.”

They lay on their backs, staring up at the sky, colored lights streaming down at the same rate that Mr. Jensen’s come streamed down his wife’s inner thigh.

Happy 4th!