Prompt for August 8: Four Lines of Prose about Eyelashes


[Prompt from . Sorry, I went there.]

I watched from the bed as she bent at an odd angle towards the mirror, her butt sticking deliciously outward. She took the—brush? Is that the word?—out of its holder and began to rub it against her eyelashes.

“You look so hot when you put your makeup on,” I muttered.

She smirked at me in the mirror but continued to lengthen her lashes, which wasn’t the only thing lengthening at the moment.


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