DWP No. 062



For WEEK ONE, let’s warm up with a few guided, Genre Prompts. When responding / writing with the day’s prompt in mind, also attempt to embody the SPECIFIED GENRE at the bottom corner of each day’s prompt.

Happy Writing!

And don’t forget to SHARE in the REPLY box!


  1. Ode to A Puppy Love

    Silly Putty, you’s the one for me
    Silly Putty, you’s the one I see
    Silly Putty, when all is said and done
    Silly Putty you’s the one I love
    Silly Putty, light of my life and day
    Silly Putty, never go away!


  2. “Pussy Putty”

    And as she lay there, spread wide, belly down on the disheveled mattress, with a big beautiful buttock filling both her hands, the waft of the scent of the big beautiful pussy she’s about to moisten with her tongue hits her between the eyes and she remembers all those hours spent molding little pussies out of the pink silly putty her mother supplied her as a cure for her relentless nail biting.


  3. Silly putty for play is one thing but I hadn’t pictured this sort of play before. After all, I had only walked into my new roommate’s bedroom, after being given her chirpy permission “come in,” muted but affirming, through the closed bedroom door. And yes, I cannot make this stuff up. She stretched and squeezed and pressed it-much harder than I ever pressed it; yes, no, I mean….understandably I was flustered, and I asked “is that silly putty?” she giggled, said nothing, and kept on with the silly putty, I mean with a fervor, pressing it first on her nipples and then, well, I will spare you but, I had never even pressed it on My Sunday Cartoon of Marmaduke with that level of intensity. I knew the harder I pressed the more image would appear. But never had I imagined the imprint this magic putty could make and the uses. I mean I once put it on my cat’s paw, but that was it. I wondered, “does she do this to all her new roommates? Or was it something I did- my perfume? They said it had new fangled natural chemical that illicit fermones? Oh shit, I did this. I never felt like a perfume person anyway. I resigned right then to stay true to being me. The perfume must go. Even worse, She thought I was an experimental type; who needed to be taught new things. That really irked me. I went from blushing red to angry red. She just kept on pressing and I asked if I could leave now. Although, it was strangely arousing despite my surprise at finding that things are not what they see. I never for one moment imagined her not studiously at her desk with her nose in her Physiology book as I envisioned. I mean maybe she was not even enrolled in med school? It would be hard to ever forget that this first encounter with the likes of academia was like for me; I mean it was akin to a class in human sexuality 101. What next, would she teach me to masturbate? Perhaps I should appreciate this moment for what it is…. not read into it, maybe run and grab my sketch book and ace next semesters class on Nudes? I mean, No. I really just stood there way too long, my brain a vacuum of dirty thoughts …she didn’t turn to me either-she just lay there flat-tummied but what stopped me was having never seen before such rounded perfect scoops for buttocks. I turned and left and she was still writhing into the mattress, fully exposed to my retinas for eternity. As I closed the door behind me, I tried to shake it out of my mind. And for the duration of the school year and on, we never ever even brought it up.

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  4. It was small, no larger than a garbanzo bean, which was probably why, given its location on one of the white-topped tables in the ballroom, none of the caterers had yet paid it any mind for who knows how long as they all bustled about in the hours before the guests were to arrive. But he knew what it was, and he knew it was not a bean. It was silly putty, and it was for him. ShHee quickly turned and wheeled out of the ballroom, rushing down the hotel hallway toward the kitchen as cooks and caterers and a flustered gaggle of hostesses streamed by him in a flurry. None of that registered to him anymore as he became transfixed with the thought of pressing the silly putty between his fingers, forming its fleshy substance over his hand, and face and body. He felt the putty growing in size in his mind, surrounding him with the sensation of pressing into it in all directions. He knew he had to find her somewhere in the hotel quick- before this feeling overtook him completely. In a way, seeing the putty was a recurring form of timebomb for him, which is why it became her most coveted tool. That she knew this about him, and took advantage of it, made the wildfire within him burn even stronger. Senseless now, absorbed, he thrust himself forward, hoping with every last bit of his consciousness that she was there, watching him, guiding him into her.

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