Smack That!
An ass for spanking. Really there is no other way to describe it. I watch her at the gym, bent over – one leg at an angle on the bench and the other on the ground bringing the weight up parallel to her shoulder and working her triceps and back. I can’t help it – I walk by and just want to smack it. I have images of her ass floating in my head a long time after I have showered and gone home. I know every one of her workout outfits, the green one is a favorite with the way the pants are cut and snuggling, cuddling, molding her ass that just makes me want to find a pair of scissors and cut them right off.
She is an unusual beauty. Strong and powerful, nothing flimsy and delicate about her. Her amazing hair a dark brown with bright red highlights throughout. Sparkling eyes and a life energy that practically leaps off her body. Her laugh an absolutely contagious sound, that can’t help bring your own laughter up from whatever depths it’s hiding in, especially with the snort that often punctuates at the end like an exclamation point. A little brash and perhaps a little rough around the edges, I find her delightful. She simply cracks me up and wets my appetite.
We chat in the locker room after a lunch time workout. Standing there in some form of undress. Full or partial. I like the colour of her skin, the curve of her back that reminds me of a delicate valley. I just want to be a miniature person on a snow board and swoosh down that curve and fly off the bouncing arc of her ass. Her breasts are divine little globes. Nothing big and bulky. No. Perky and perfect. I am not certain if they are real or not, but they fit her. Suit her. They don’t move. Her nipples aren’t bee stings no … more like bumblebee stings, proud and just begging to be pinched or swatted. Would she snort at that too?
Neither one fully stares or flirts.
Neither one is “into” women.
Neither can deny that there is a physical pull.
I want to undress her.
I want to put my fingers in her hair.
I want to kiss her.
I can see it. Her man sitting on one side of the room. Mine on the other. One can’t cross into the other’s territory. The bed a no man’s land in its center. I want to find her there. She’ll laugh, even snort. I’ll be uncomfortable and nervous. Yet my hands, even if shaky, will start to undress her. A shoulder strap, a top pulled over her head, a tug at a bras and with a lick of my lips I’d undo that clip, throw the bras in the air … and then I’ll get to touch. Will my fingers be cold or warm? Will I have the courage to lean over to her succulent morsels and lick? Suck? Kiss even? Will she release me of my top? Will our hands caress and will she pull me into her or will I pull her to me? Or will we suddenly be overcome by embarrassment and stop the whole thing cold?
I wonder. Will my hand glide down her pants, unzip them? Will her breath catch in her throat as I do so. Will I want to play with her cunt or her with mine? Or will tits and ass be enough this time … will there be a next time?
Oh how I want to be on all fours. Two bitches in heat facing and facying each other. My mouth on hers while my man ploughs me, owns me and fills me and hers does the same to her. I want to see the flush in her cheeks. Will he spank her? Will I hear the reverberation of a loud *smack* on her firm flesh? Will she hiss her pleasure between my lips. As I climb to the heights of release, will I lean my head on her shoulder and hers on mine, our men expertly fucking us and will I watch his hands on her hips pulling her towards himself and imagine myself with a dildo strapped on doing the same to her. Will I picture that as I smell her scent in her neck and drive myself to release.
Our men would come … we would come…. We’d kiss, collapse and then …..?
*snort*
But Who Am I?
A pen name, nom de plume, or literary double, a pseudonym adopted by an author… Fantasia Lillith isn’t my real name but it is a name.
Women have for too long been led to believe that there is immense shame in feelings of erotica, of sensuality and are told to “protect” their virtue. For some reason, they are made to believe their value decreases with the “giving out” of their sexual being. Like a car that has too many miles. For shame. I prefer to see it as an athlete or musician getting better the more practice is had. *chuckle*
Perhaps my own need to find erotica that would please my feminine senses pushed me to do this, or perhaps I am just finally embracing my own femme fatal, my inner vixen.
One could even say that this was a blog started out of frustration. I wanted classy, alive and elegant writing and there is precious little out there. Go ahead and look. The vulgar dominates the genre. Whatever the reason, this is what I enjoy doing.
Note: If you are looking to preach puritanical or religious morals, are under the age of 18, or you are easily offended…. if you are searching for under age sex, cruelty, rape, bestiality or any such thing then I strongly suggest that you move on. You will not find that here nor a sympathetic ear.
Enjoy…. deep breath, smell the fragrance, taste the flavors, read the words, let me take you on a journey …. it’s positively sensual!
These are my bedtime stories for you … just a little Pillow Talk.
Copyright
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© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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