Winter Solstice Ritual
She walked to the thermostat and turned off the heat. In this northern climate the move was a bold one. Yet it was part of the sacrament. To feel in the next half hour the temperature drop slightly was a way to represent the drop in temperature that led to this, the darkest and longest of nights.
They sat quietly meditating side by side, reflecting on the past year. The hopes that had at last come to be reality. They thought of the men and women that had guided them, the wise few that had brought them some bright light of wisdom. They thought of the seeds of potential asleep under the snow within them. They thought of each other …. and hands reached across the floor and clasped tightly.
At midnight – they both lit the white candle left in the center. Untainted white. No fragrance. The symbol of the purity of hope, of new life, of the everlasting spark of joy. They stood and shed their clothing and stepped away, peeling it like old snake skin and leaving it behind. Turning they faced each other and with a natural sponge, they quietly and reverently cleaned each other in warm water.
As the cleansing made it’s way across her flesh she was aware of everything. The scent of the red and green candles, her nipples hardening in the cooling air how her own hand on his chest trembled slightly and the Goosebumps showing. She enjoyed the feel of his hands across her shoulders, her spine, her lower back, her ass and as the wet sponge made it’s way between her thighs her entire being arched into him.
Her own digits wrapped around his manhood, and she pulled him closer. Tonight, they symbolized the God and the Goddess. Slowly as they washed away the fear and failures of the year past, they brought on the moment of purity. La petite Mort. The small death. Orgasm. Winter was, the small death in the wheel of the seasons. Orgasm was, the only time when we as humans, were closest to purity, to Love. The transparency of the moment when closing their eyes, together they felt, from the simple gesture of cleaning one another, of caressing, of holding, pulling, jerking … the ripples of ecstasy flow though them.
The floor was wet, their bodies as well, heaving, arching, rupturing in pleasure – in one blissful moment his white semen surged forward with a deep guttural growl. Her own body responded with a flow of clear liquid. For a split second, they were united in the white, unadulterated light. Back on earth, with flushed cheeks, they finished cleaning each other in breathless silence.
Walking on slightly shaking legs she turned the heat back on. As of today the days would get longer, the slow progress towards spring, summer and fall would start anew.
She turned to see him standing in his naked glory. Her man, her love, her God. Handing her a glass of Champagne he pulled her in for a kiss, deep and passionate.
“May this year fill your heart with the ever lasting spark of hope and joy my love”.
And they fell to the floor and melted into each other anew.
© 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.
***
Tears of Redemption
Miss me? I have been away on vacation. Yes … much needed and much enjoyed time in the sun. On vacation I didn’t write. Not a single word – I did however a great deal of thinking. Those thoughts then inspired a small series of stories. Not all erotic in the true sense. Here is the first.
We don’t truly understand the meaning of the word “illusion”. Yet, we live most of our lives in one, being one. We live the life we think we should be living, and not the one that we know in our hearts is true to who we are. We keep up with the Joneses to the point of crushing debt and even breaking our own moral code. We go after big dreams that are not our own. We marry people out of fear of loneliness or because it’s “that time” and have children because it’s the next logical step. We are, in fact, spectators in our own lives, living a life of illusion.
Yet there are those that dare to be different. Those that dare to say “no” to the white picket fence, the 2.5 kids and the golden retriever. Those that stop and think for themselves, and look outside the small confines of the world they live in and the restraints of cultural, parental, societal and religious dictatorship. There are those that will backpack around the world, those that will give up every material good or their horde of false friends in order to Be real. To be in synch with who they really are. Those few brave souls find happiness although they will often be met with sneers and glances of disapproval. After all they are proof “it” can be done – and who wants to be reminded that they are too much of a coward to find themselves?
Those unique few touch the “Real” or let the “Real” touch them like the ancients did – the fathers of the desert – men that before Christianity, would venture out into the sands, alone, as hermits to think on the relationship between humans and Life, Nature and the Absolute. Today’s Psychology is a walk in the park compared to that.
For most of us, the sense of the True, comes only as bright moments in our lives that we then spend an eternity trying to re-capture, not realizing how simple it is to let go of the Ego, from “beliefs”, from this mirror image of ourselves… the illusion. This is the train of thought that inspired this story.
****
It was a gorgeous weekend. Sun and fall colors abound. He looked at the woman by his side and felt his heart swell. No explanation, just seeing her there by his side as they followed the path had triggered something in him. The sun shining in her auburn hair, the gray at her temples glittering; his hand reached up without prompting or forethought to caress the platinum strands. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought them back. She looked at him quizzically. He shook his head and pointed out the stunning tree in full autumn dress and exclaimed in wonder and joked that it looked to him like the flaming bush of the bible. He started dodging around pretending he could hear the voice of God. She laughed and told him he was silly.
Even those words made him gulp down a lump in his throat – what was wrong with him?
The weekend had been full yet relaxing. They had cooked together, lingered in bed and enjoyed each other many times in many ways; they had gone to a play and stopped to listen to a street musician afterwards as they left the theater behind; still talking animatedly about the scenes that had touched them. They had tea and coffee in a quaint little hole in the wall. An art gallery turned coffee shop. And they talked a great deal more.
For now, however, they walked in silence hand in hand.
They happened upon a bench by the river, and sat down. He fumbled a moment in his many pockets and pulled out his single cigar humidor, which had been a gift from her, and his guillotine. With the same reverence of a religious ritual, he pulled the cigar out, sucked the tip to moisten it, cut and lit his one cigar of the week. He leaned back to take in the perfect moment as they watched the sea gulls and Canada Geese fly, squawk and fight over some discarded hot dog bun. He was at peace, her head in his lap, the sun warming them even on this late fall afternoon. He couldn’t explain the overwhelming feeling in his heart and it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel “giddy crazy” … But it wasn’t calm either… euphoric perhaps.
They made their way back home. Feeling like a blanket of life and joy was wrapped around them. Their hearts warm even if their fingers and noses were cold. Once inside, the fireplace was lit, a cup of cocoa made and they continued their silent companionship as the room began to fill with the smell of a stew in the slow cooker. He was startled when she suddenly bounded up off the couch, and half ran to the bathroom only to return with a pair of tweezers.
Half blushing she asked in a tiny voice “pluck the little man hairs on my chin for me?” he tried with every ounce not to laugh. She was so classy and elegant, the idea of man hairs on her chin just didn’t jive. Yet he was amazingly touched that she’d ask him to help with their removal. Mutual grooming was such an intimate thing. He swallowed any smart ass remarks threatening to stumble off his tongue and onto his lips, and accepted the show of trust for what it was with gratitude and composure.
She lay herself down on the bed, in the sunbeam and stretched out like a cat. He started plucking away the few sparse hairs, and then was done. Yet he couldn’t move. He stayed there, hovering above her, kissing her eyelids, caressing her neck softly with his hands. The stereo played a longing tune, the sun was warm and he could not be anything but amazingly tender and loving and … she started crying.
The tears fell slowly – just falling down her cheek. He wasn’t alarmed. She was smiling, breathing quietly. Joy was writ all over her. Her delicate hand pointed to her now bare nipples and she just smirked, her eyes still closed. He started plucking out the half dozen slightly darker hairs there as well. She squirmed and squealed and then … her breathing changed.
His hand caressed her body longingly, the energy in him non sexual. It was something else. He noticed the smallest things. The pores of her skin, the tiny little hairs that would rise to meet his hand like a sweet peach lifting to meet his lips, it all amazed and intrigued. She was soft, yet firm and he marveled at that. As he lifted her leg up, and slowly entered her with his hard member, his act wasn’t a sexual one. It was one of unification. The goal not the pursuit of orgasm, but the simple joy of being cohesively One. She breathed deeply, and sighed, the rhythm was soft and slow and nothing was urgent. They gazed into each others eyes, hers still moist from her falling tears.
With both ankles atop his shoulders, he lifted her ass up softly and gently. Leaning in he was lost in wonder at her flexibility. Resting on the back of her thighs he let his eyes meet hers again and they never left. Slowly a build up occurred and they leaned in to kiss as a caress rushed through them both. They sighed. He pulled out with regret and let her legs go. She curled into him and let her hands caper and carouse with his nipples, and follow the contour of his muscles down his navel where she then played with his now softening prick. She sat up, leaned on one elbow and looked at him with tender love and compassion in her gaze.
He was looking up at her and feeling the warmth of her glowing body was an incredible comfort as was the cascade of her hair; a curtain of intimacy for just the two of them. She kissed his eyelids, his cheek, his lips and neck; she cupped his face to her, in her lap. And now he too cried. No sobs; just quiet tears pooling and gently falling in a small trickle to the white cotton of the hotel quality bedspread. He was in harmony with who he was, living the life he wanted and for the first time he loved without agenda.
He looked up at her smiling, open faced and shed more tears.
© 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
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direction to the original content.
Rain Drop-let
It’s raining. It should be snowing but the temperatures are above seasonal this year. I sit in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace looking out the large bay window onto an empty street. Not a soul stirs, not even the usual stray cats. I’m reading, or trying to, but my attention wavers and I can’t concentrate on my book. It doesn’t have enough substance, the story line weak and the writing mediocre. I look out again, at the dismal landscape and I am overcome by this sense of loneliness.
I feel very much like the rain drop that somehow managed to circumvent the large front porch roof and hit the glass pane before my eyes. It’s so alone, streaking slowly down the dusty surface. Another drop hits the window its velocity far greater, b-lining for the first one still lazily, patiently making its way down. The two drops intersect and merge, suddenly there … for only a moment… they remain thus hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity. Then together they plummet, plunge and dive giddy in their union and disappear from my view.
I close my eyes, becoming that first droplet. I imagine the frightful fall from my familiar cloud. I imagine that strange gust of wind that changes my destination beyond my control. I imagine the pain as I smash into the bay window. I see myself slowly walking, stunned and lost down a dusty road. As I walk I feel my senses come back to me. I hear a bird sing in the distance, I notice the grass on the edge of the road is dry but still alive. I think back on my long journey and lost in thought I don’t see the path up ahead cutting mine horizontally; I don’t hear the sound of the oncoming car.
Suddenly wheels screech, an engine hums and dies and the smell of burning rubber fill’s my nose. My hand reaches out in an automatic reflex at the blinding glint of sun reflecting of metal. My fingers resting on the burning chrome grill, I steady myself. I hear a door open, I look up and there standing before me, is my hearts desire. A combination of worry and anger etched on his face. We stare. He stops in his tracks. His lips move as if trying to say something, his eyes searching mine and looking for some hidden memory in the vaults of his mind. Time stands still for an instant. Recognition or love entwined reunited through time.
No need for introductions we know who we are. He walks quickly towards me, wrapping his arms protectively around me, supportive. “Are you alright?” I nod. I am now.
Standing on my toes, raising my head to his I bring an arm around his neck and pull him down for our lips to meet. We kiss. Long and sweet an all-encompassing embrace that triggers memories lost of our past lives. Reluctant we part a moment. He looks at me as a smile slowly curls the edge of his mouth and he lifts me up, placing me on the hot hood of the car.
Oblivious to the stinging of my skin from my nearly scalding perch, forehead to forehead we take in the moment, our breaths caught in our lungs, we are barely able to breath. “I found you” he whispers… a sentence that barely makes sense. I press myself to him wanting to erase lifetimes without his presence from my lonely bones and heart.
His hands glide up my thigh, lingering a moment near my ass, fingers firmly pressing, digging in a little, getting a good grip. It feels so good. I kiss him again with more passion giving him the ok.
My skirt is short and flimsy, offering little in the way of resistance. My blouse low-cut with tiny buttons offering his right hand a challenge in dexterity. One pops open and the blouse falls off one shoulder and his fingers follow hungrily to the cleft between my breasts. He circumvents the small hurdle that is my “balcony” style bra and his hand dips into the cup and scoops my breast slowly, reverently. My leg’s part, allowing him into my personal space even more, he takes a small step forward in response to my invitation.
I feel light headed as our breath runs wild, our kissing eager. He moans deeply as my pelvic bone rubs and grinds into his jean protected crotch. I can feel his heat, his bulge, his desire. I moan myself as I feel the electric tingle intensify as I squeeze my inner walls aching for the fill of him. My clit is bulging outside the protective, defensive barricade of my lower lips, every movement, now, a caress as the fabric of my soaked undies rubs with the rocking back and forth of my hips. His hand finds its way to my cunt, expertly as if he’s known me for centuries and starts a slow and hard figure eight on my clit. My entire body trembles and I hear myself beg “more ….”.
He lowers himself then, his soft warm lips following the same trail his hands had blazed across my flesh. Wet tongue flicks and then follows suit and the small, hard, figure eight resumes against my clit but with the added intensity of the intimacy of oral sex and the heat of his breath. His finger slides inside and starts a gentle simultaneous come hither motion. My head falls back and I collapse on the hood of the car, giving up any pretence of composure.
My head is reeling as emotions and sensations course through and awaken my body. I slide of the edge of the car and find myself face to face with his crotch. He has managed to pull of his belt but that’s all. I undo the button; I carefully pull down the zipper. I pull on the pant leg and watch the white expanse of his underwear bulge in front of my eyes in a pleasing way as his jeans fall in a dark pool of denim around his ankles. I find the opening in his tighty whities and pull his shaft out. The sun is out, and I watch as a single drop of precum appears on the tip like a clear pearl, a rain drop.
I look up into his eyes and his gaze is filled with intense desire, passion and strangely, the knowledge of who we are beyond our names and current bodies. I close my eyes then, breath him in, the scent of him, luxuriate in his presence, in the display being presented on this dusty country road. My mouth opens, my tongue wets my lips … I open my mouth wider still, cradling his balls in one hand and pulling him in closer with the other hand behind a thigh, I plunge and take it all in.
His knees almost buckle. The waiting and anticipation is getting to him. The warmth, the moisture, the suction, the rhythm, the sight of me, my breasts sitting outside my bra, my skirt around my waist, my hand playing with the folds of my inner most self, the sun in my hair … release, pull back, release, pull back…. Drops of saliva slide down my chin and drip drop into the dry soil along with my moisture. The sandy dirt begging as loudly for the wetness as his hot cock is begging for release in my mouth. He tenses and I stop.
I stand and lay back on the car, pulling him towards me. His cock is poised at the right height as I lift one leg up and place it on his shoulder. My finger never leaving my clit, he has an open passage before him.
He groans as he fights to not come just from the sight. The heat of his body against mine is almost unbearable. I feel it then, the pressure of his cock head against my slick cunt. There – on the brink – he pauses and holds. We stop breathing a moment. He presses slowly, but lingers at the entrance, slowly … so slowly the walls give way easily but the penetration is barely occurring. I can’t feel the rim of his pulpy head inside. The sensation is blissful and we savour it as my finger continues its little crop circles on my clit. I lift and he leans in and he takes me, fully, deeply and utterly. Tears of joy flow from my deep blue eyes and as they fall on the car, sizzle away in the heat. He pulls out and my fingers almost loose rhythm, we steady and start anew. He enters, I lift and press in, his hand holds me steady, my leg holding his weight, he pulls out, I circle on my clit… repeat.
We dance like this under the sun, on the deserted road for an eternity and a moment in time. The giddy frenzy comes upon us; we lose ourselves in the sensations of our union. Our breath catches, he tries to hold off and yet … I come and as my flood gates release and the damn is broken and he witnesses the total abandon of my body and my soul, he pumps a little harder, a slight aggressive deepness, the tingle in his balls causes a tensing in his core… and for a moment time stands still … hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity suspended in time and we plunge together into the crazy free fall of ejaculation and orgasm.
He collapses over me, his half hard member still inside. Catching our breath we start to chuckle as the smell of evaporating sex juices hits our nostrils. He pulls up his pants, I pull down my skirt, button my blouse; he helps me with the last of the tiny buttons between kisses. He takes a step back, holds out his hand and says “come…” and I do.
© 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.
Woven threads of our Sunday
A shared moment and thought – un-edited – not a story. A glimpse into the life of ….
Sunrise on Sunday morning…
Some love it for the guarantee of brunch, the paper and coffee in bed, for time with friends and family, or for the slow and easy pace the world seems to take on that second weekend day.
Some see it as the end of the week, I prefer it as the first day of mine. For me it is the promise of hours of slow, sweet fucking, and the launching of my soul to depart and float forward and mingle with his, that makes Sunday my “it” day.
You’ll find the phone off the hook, the “do not disturb” sign on the door and us laying entwined, sweat glistening off our bodies and my hand reaching down for his still hard cock.
Slowly and methodically I will stroke him, pressure building towards the head. Leaning over I will whisper secrets in his ear. Of those, only he is allowed to sit in judgment. He will smile, moan, and respond to every inch of me and me to every centimeter of him.
He and I will come and come again all day. As we loose track of time between the sheets, down the hall, on the kitchen counter and back again. We will eat with, on and from each other. Laugh, giggle, sigh, bathe and speak. The world can go to hell in a hand basket, we are nesting in our own heavenly bubble.
We pray at each others altars, connect and rejoice. A week of “I don’t have time” and “yeah hold on” has finished. We start anew – connect; find each other again, charge our emotional batteries. Sure a quickie will occur on other days, and yes we will make love certainly … but the slow, all day in bed fucking, that is our lazy us time makes Sunday our relationship nuclear power plant.
We will re-etch our scents, the lines of our bodies, sounds, smells and dreams onto our hearts and minds. Trade new secrets and old, share fresh fears and battle ancient demons. All the while our hands will wonder, our nakedness will unite us and our backs will arch as we come, bathing us in glistening nectar.
In the end I will feel my soul come back to me as we lie together in the moonlight wrapped in a blanket of the woven threads of our Sunday.
© 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.
Part II – Cottage Country
Startled at the man’s reaction, one hand on his softening manhood, frozen in place like a deer caught in the headlights; David couldn’t go far with his shorts still around his ankles. He hastily fumbled to make himself decent. Sue drew a sharp breath and took a step back hitting her head on a low branch. Yet … neither left, eager for the last moments of magic. They stood mutely in the shadow of the large tree watching the scene draw to a close.
The man stepped away from the table and offered his hand to his lover. She extended hers and, holding her gently, he pulled her upright so that she sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the picnic table.
Her body was resplendent in the moonlight. David noted that even though she was now upright, her breasts remained firm, forgotten by gravity. Her silhouette was stunning. With her laying on the table he had not been able to fully appreciated how her hip to waist ratio was in fact almost too perfect for words. If he hadn’t known better he would have sworn she was airbrushed. He shook his head feeling once again inadequate as he gazed at this couple and the scene very much like one from ancient mythology; the Gods having chosen the woman they wanted and consumed by desire they had found a way to become one with her.
They moved with such grace that even as they held each other for a moment the atmosphere was still highly charged. The Lady in question pulled her summer dress to cover her modesty and the “God” hiked up his shorts breaking the illusion at last with this very human gesture. The definition of his torso somehow exaggerated by the exertions, however, was something that could not be ignored, and David felt a pang of annoyance as he heard Sue draw in a breath of appreciation. Then, he gave himself a mental slap on the back of the head for the hypocrisy of that emotion.
A few moments later, the spell somewhat broken, David relaxed his grip on Sue’s hand and despite the cool of the evening, their hold was slippery with perspiration. Sue turned and standing on tip toe whispered into his ear. “Come on, let’s go. I think he saw us …. and we need to get back to Gemma .” She led him carefully towards the path and they walked silently to their cottage; their minds full of what they had just witnessed.
At the foot of the verandah she went ahead of him and stopped on top of the steps, turning so she was on a level with him for once. She looked him straight in the eyes, his warm kind eyes, and lifted her hands to hold his face. She leaned and gently kissed him on the lips. David responded, his hands on her small waist pulling her closer, his own mouth working and savoring the taste of her on his own. He breathed in deeply, enjoying, that now familiar perfume, they had bought together at the duty free shop just a few days ago.
They kissed a little longer, their tongues softly darting and entangling with each other’s. She moved her arms so they wrapped around his neck and leaned against him, trusting him with her weight. He pulled her closer, his hands now on the soft flesh at the top of her legs and only the thin linen of her dress separating them. She desperately wanted to feel his touch on her. She hesitated for a moment before jumping up, lifting herself one leg at a time, so she could wrap them tightly around his waist. There was something about the gentle giant in him she had begun to fully appreciate.
They had tried only twice to make love. The first time had been a disaster as Gemma had woken in a nightmare and by the time they had calmed her down the moment had passed. But it had been good to fall asleep and wake in the morning together. Having a toddler in the house, however, meant there was little opportunity for anything first thing in the morning.
The second time had been a little more successful. They had not been interrupted but David hadn’t managed to deal with penetration. His guilt at being with “another woman” had overwhelmed him. He was so depressed about not being able to see it through that it had stopped any further attempts.
But somehow this time felt different. They were both relaxed, with no risk of being interrupted, except perhaps by the night life, and they were both greatly affected by the scene they had witnessed. His kisses began to feel more urgent and his hands tugged at the material of her dress. Sue shuddered with excitement, her eyes closed, her mouth moist, her tongue swirling and teasing over his. His fingers circled close to the fine trimmed hairs and she willed him to be a little more adventurous. She purred as they kissed and this seemed to be enough as his fingers slipped inside the cotton and elastic of her panties and found her yielding and damp edges. It had been sometime since she too had experienced such erotic sensuous attention and the stimulation seemed to open a flood gate.
She broke off kissing his mouth and as she pecked and licked his left ear she softly whispered to him that if he carried on like that she would quickly loose it. She wanted them to have that special moment. He nodded silently and taking one step at a time with her still wrapped around him, his left hand holding her ass in place, he walked up and across the verandah to the cottage door. He found the handle and gently opened it and carried her through.
The fire was still gently crackling and emitting its soft light bathing the room in a romantic glow. David thought briefly of how imprudent it had been to leave Gemma and this fire behind. He chastised himself internally nearly ruining the moment.
He shook his head … and kneeled by the blaze and let Sue lay on the rug. Her eyes bright, and sparkling, never for a moment looking away. Her hand smoothed away furrows that had developed on his forehead. “Come here my sweet” she said softly, as she pulled him so he lay next to her. She unbuttoned the front of her dress and took his hand so that he cupped her breast. They were small, with what David thought, was the most lovely slope to the tip of perky and slightly over large nipples. In their succulent perfection they begged to be sucked. Hungrily he wrapped his mouth around one and did so.
Sue let out a moan … low and guttural. David was certain that she was almost ready to come. He slowed his endeavors wanting, like her, to let the moment be one they would never forget.
He took great, slow pleasure in undressing her, then himself. They enjoyed the exploration of their bodies by the soft warm glow of the fire. Hands shook a little, and sighs were dished out in spades. Sue could not ignore the large and “demanding attention” presence between David’s thighs. She noted again, with a certain amount of appreciation and apprehension, the girth of his shaft. Her tiny frame and his giant one might prove to be a challenge.
David’s hands ran up and down Sue’s back, getting comfortable in the simple joy of being nude together. “Happy naked time.” Sue giggled … quoting Gemma from a few days ago. David’s deep and honest chuckle finally destroying the last barrier left standing between them. He hovered over her now, slowly going down … down… in a trail of soft but urgent kisses. Her thighs opened a little further as he reached the sweet spot and lifted her ass off the carpet bringing her to his lips as if to drink from a chalice. The gesture so reverent Sue’s breath caught in her lungs her body trembling.
He parted her further with his tongue, lowering her back down. She was so drenched she knew her fluids would leave a healthy wet spot. He placed himself between her legs, his member hovering over her small, yet aching entrance and freezed. She bit her lip. “The point of no return” he whispered … her small hands reached for his hips, guiding him a tiny bit closer. He looked down at her. His eyes were filled with tears, a look of utter pain and pleasure writ across his face. Sue held still … very – very still. Waiting for him to be ready.
David’s mind was going a thousand miles an hour. He hovered. His desire almost as painful as the ache in his heart. He finally looked outwards from himself to Sue. Their eyes connected again. He saw all the compassion and tenderness in her, he felt her petite hands holding him. The heat from her crotch a welcome like he had never known. She smiled, nodded …. She understood. She was waiting … he wanted this ….. Her hand pulled him in infinitesimally closer.
She is so beautiful there, open to me, vulnerable yet strong in her patience. She’s a woman I can love … she’s a woman I do love . The realization hit him hard, and in that moment, all guilt disappeared.
Sue noticed a shift in his expression and body language. Her heart swelled as she saw in him that he had at last let go and he was now hers. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and she tried to hold back the sob threatening to take over. She pulled him in, wanting to lose herself in the throws of their union. He complied at last. The wide and thick head of his penis finally touched her, she pushed up, lifting to accommodate. He was still hard, very hard and eager. He pushed, almost violent in the penetration but stopped as she let out a whimper.
Afraid of ripping her, David slowed down. He pushed in, waited. Pushed further and waited. A little further and waited. Sue was so wet that the only friction was from the incredible tightness of the fit. It felt so good he almost lost it right then and there. The waiting was as much for him as it was for her to adjust to his girth. Finally he was in, all the way to the hilt. He pulled back gently, and the moan of pleasure that filled the room came from them both.
He made love to her then. Slow and steady. He watched her carefully. Marveled at the abandon she showed, the pleasure that was so obviously being had. She made him feel like the king of all men as she wiggled, and sighed and arched her back to take him – all of him – in. He couldn’t hold much longer but tried. It had been so long, the feeling was so intense he realized that he just could not stop the tidal wave from crashing, the tsunami from hitting and in a roar of almost rage and desperate violent cry for life he thrust deep within her and came.
She screamed from pain and joy as she joined him moments later and the two forgot about neighbors, strangers, Gemma in the next room, the past and the world around them. For a moment time was suspended and the only thing real was the pleasure being given and received.
He collapsed next to her, and grabbed her to keep them connected and buried his face into her small frame and cried. Large tears of release, erased what seemed like an eternity of pain. And he found himself drowning now in the promise of new happiness, of new beginnings.
© 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.
Part I – Cottage Country
David sat in his chair, enjoying a glass of single malt whiskey, letting the light of the fire play on the liquid, turning it different shades of amber. Beauty could be found anywhere he mused. It was a lovely summer evening, the stars were out, the sky bright after a day of sunshine. It was perfect. Even a cool breeze afforded some relief from what could have otherwise been an oppressively hot night.
He had built a small fire in the hearth, more for ambience than heat. He sat there looking at the young woman across from him dozing, and listened to the loons cry out as the sun set. It made him chuckle, reminding him of that final scene of The Walton’s, like listening to a roll call. It was beautiful, eerie and familiar. He’d been listening to that sound every summer for the last forty years. It never stopped getting to him; tugging at his heart. It was his reason for coming here year after year and leaving London and the UK behind for a full two months and why he had never had the heart to sell his parents cottage.
Things had changed little over time in this place. In fact he and his family were more or less the newbie’s to the area with many cottages having been handed down from generation to generation. He knew his neighbors’ well and they all knew him. They knew his little girl, Gemma, now fast asleep in the room next door, and of the tragic death of her mother in childbirth. They had helped as much as they could, mostly by staying away and giving him the space he needed.
He had been replaying in his mind, the series of events that was the whirlwind that had brought Sue to join him here so unexpectedly this summer. He looked at her, shaking his head, amazed. He had met her only weeks ago, feeding the ducks with his little one in the park after work one day. He was remembering the look on her face as he had presented her with the plane tickets, when he heard a scream from next door.
The properties were not close to one another, the sound therefore startled him out of his reverie quickly. He knew the place was often rented out to city folk looking to “play country cottage” for a weekend and as such, the tenants often did not know the “ins and outs” of country living. This was the real forest. Things here could be dangerous.
He decided to go and investigate – just in case. After all, if he let out a scream like that he’d hope for someone to come and check on him. He woke Sue and sprayed on some extra bug repellant, grabbed the baby monitor and left the cottage in direction of the racket. He walked carefully, kicking himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight along, pulling on Sue’s tiny hand behind him. He saw the glow of a large bonfire a few hundred feet away and walked towards it. The closer he came the more he heard the noises. Low moans and occasional screams. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he should be approaching unarmed. He signaled for Sue to wait there and walked ahead.
He ventured closer to the property line and, crouching to get under a large branch he spotted them and froze. Taking a step back he shook his head, trying to get rid of the image that was branded there forever but couldn’t . He wanted more… wanted to see more. Slowly, he nestled lower and lifted the branch just enough to afford him a better view. As he did so a loud moan filled the air again. Sue startled him as she put her hand on his shoulder and crouched down next to him to see what had caught his attention. He felt strangely excited, knowing that “they” were ignorant of his presence. He looked at Sue’s face for a moment, her jaw had dropped and her tongue licked her lips and a small smile crossed her face. With that stamp of approval he took in the scene before him.
There “they” were, two lovers, in the most unusual light. The cold white moon bathing them from above and the warm red and orange glow from the fire lighting them from below. He saw the man first, could not look away. He was tall, lean and all muscle. Thick hair on his head and no place else, with a swimmers body and a large cock that was slamming into a woman he so obviously adored. His ass, clenching and relaxing as he impaled her in perfect harmony with the sound of the wooden picnic table creaking under the strain of the two of them, the sexy sound of the slap slap slap of flesh on flesh echoing in the clearing. The man’s eyes were locked on his lovers, utterly focused. His virility was almost intimidating.
He held her legs over his shoulders, his face at times turning to kiss a dainty foot resting there on his strong and defined muscles. His rhythm was fast but steady, this was no dash to the finish line, he intended to make her squirm… and she did.
Her beautiful face, with large, almond shaped eyes, reflecting the night back at her partner, was a study in love. David had seen that look before; his throat tightened at the memory. He remembered what is was like to be loved like that. He suddenly felt guilty for watching and a pang of jealousy filled his heart. Loneliness followed. Just then, Sue’s hand hovered over his, hesitant a moment and then took it firmly and gave it a squeeze. He turned to see her looking at him – she knew and he felt a swell of affection for her fill that void. He nodded, squeezed her hand back and gave her a big, wicked grin. She smiled in return as they continued to observe.
The woman lay on the picnic table that almost seemed like an altar, her long hair falling in a cascade of curls off the edge, like Rapunzel throwing it down to her prince. Her breasts were free of the small summer dress that had at one point been buttoned up and now lay open revealing the soft sun kissed flesh below. Two fully blossomed breasts held firm, solid ground as they hovered with their pointed, pink nipples capping each end. David’s mouth watered as he imagined the succulent, soft flesh of the two glowing mounds under the lapping of his tongue, the sucking of his lips. Her stomach was flat and strong, but not skinny like those magazine models. She had that softness that made a man melt. Her legs were long and muscular, and would tense as the pleasure coursed through her.
David’s eyes followed the curve of her slender, supple waist, the mounding swell of full hips and the uppermost half of two round, glaring white, tender buns. He could not stop looking at her ass. It was spectacular, there really was no other word for it. He found himself entranced by it’s sight. As her partner moved inside her, as they gazed at one another, the movement and rhythm would change the lighting. One moment cool moonlight the next fire hot… angels or demons – not so obvious. David reached down into his pants. His erect penis, straining in his jeans, twitched, and his legs tightened. He released his own flared and hard cock and wrapped it in the familiar grasp of his hand; biting his lip to keep from moaning himself.
He continued to watch the scene unfolding before him, knowing it was wrong but staying anyway. Sue had followed suit and was masturbating quietly having found a tree trunk to lean against for support. David realized his knees were getting tired and found a log and made himself comfortable. He and Sue exchanged a grin that said it all: Their fault for doing it outdoors – and being so bloody loud about it !
The man was sweating now coating his spectacular body and letting it shine in the light. He looked more like one of those Gods from mythology than a man; and here he was claiming one of the human beauties as his own or in sacrifice. With a hand on each side of her hips, he slowly and carefully fired his cock inside with quick, deep thrusts. She trembled and twisted her ass in gleeful reception. Deeper, deeper he pushed, liquid oozed down and David swore he saw a few glimmering drops fall off the edge of the wooden slab.
She bent more, bringing her knees to her head, and reached back to grab his swinging sack of testicles with her hand. She rolled them tenderly in her fingers as he sent his member into wet lips through the foaming juices around the rim of her cunt. Her beautiful face started to contort into different facial expressions bordering between pain and pleasure, her moan filled the forest and got louder and louder. The bats overhead seemed to fly in harmony with her song. Then she screamed loud, total and her body arched, her back lifting right off the table as her lover screamed her name to the heavens and flung his head back in animal ecstasy as his climax joined hers and rose from the balls she held, semen coursing upward into the lengthy rod and burning its way to burst from the end to claim her fully with his seed.
At that moment David spilled his own onto the forest floor. Holding his breath so as to not make a sound. He looked down at the puddle glistening in the moonlight – then at Sue, whose flushed face spoke of release. His heart thumped in his ears. He looked up one last time and saw the lovers entwined, now whispering sweet words to each other. The woman’s eyes still closed her breathing still labored her arms around her man‘s neck possessively. Just then, the man turned his head ….. Looked straight at David… raised an eyebrow and smiled before turning back to his lover and kissing her with passion as his flaccid penis left her warmth and dribbled the juice of their love making onto the soil below.
© 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.
Prologue – Cottage Country
This story has been brought to you by ukroadrunner and myself. The Prologue was his creation, and the two main characters are his (you will note – I never use names). I then took it from there with Part I of Cottage Country. The real challenge occurred in Part II where the true collaboration occurred.
There were two rules of engagement:
1) Emotions drive the plot not the sex (i.e. it‘s erotica not porn).
2) Each section has to stand on it’s own (readers often follow their own sequence).
Now …enjoy! We did!
*********************
Sue sauntered up from Knightsbridge tube station into the daylight and away from the gloom and dank of the underground. Her cell-phone purred, now that it could pick up a signal, and she reached into her shoulder bag to lift it out as she hit pavement level. The noise of the congestion caught her by surprise – double decker buses and London taxis crawled in a sea of red and black in the early evening rush hour as the traffic made its way around Hyde Park Corner. She paused to flip open her phone, read the message with her back to the noise and then slammed the lid down – clearly disappointed.
She turned on her heels to walk towards the gates and into the park, shaking her head and wondering what was so important that her best-friend could not get away from her hedge fund employer to meet her for tea and then maybe something to eat later. They hadn’t seen each other in over 18 months and it was always good to meet up. She had been looking forward to seeing the latest photos of her friends regular stream of babies and to share a laugh with her over stories of the men she, herself, had dated since they had last conversed face to face.
The gates to the park were set in an impressive Portland stone archway that was imposing and spoke of the affluence of London life going back two centuries. She walked through, over the pedestrian crossing and down the hill along the path towards the floral gardens. The lane was used by cyclists on their way home, joggers, skaters and tourists taking in the sights. A couple of horses were being exercised on the trotting corridor by guardsmen who use the park as their training ground. The scene was typical and yet quite extraordinary.
It had been a predictable London summer day – warm, with almost oppressive humidity, and white clouds bubbling and building up as the afternoon went on, already obscuring the sunshine. The threat of thunder hung heavily as the cloud cover began to turn grey. She felt the humidity crawl at her skin as a thin veil of perspiration broke out over her body and small beads began to form on the soft fine hair above her upper lip. She tugged at the her top to allow a warm gush of air to pass up her back.
Walking slowly along the path she watched the others – all sizes and shapes, some clad in tight lycra, others in summer dresses and even the trademark London chalk striped wool suit. She enjoyed people watching and wondered whether they saw her and what they noticed in her. She thought she was, by any standards, unremarkable. Under-average height, flat chested and wearing her mousy colored hair in a pony-tail. Her face was freckled from too much time in the sun. Her body, although saved from the torture of child-bearing, could be improved by some discipline in the gym – which she paid handsomely for but rarely benefited from.
Above a fashionable, slightly frayed denim skirt, she wore an olive top with thin straps, a little adventurous to the front and a racing back. At the end of her slim, bare legs, a pair of Paul Smith thong sandals encased her freshly pedicured feet. The sandals were her frivolous, spur of the moment purchase, earlier that day and she felt very proud of them. A pair of high-street store sun-glasses sat perched on her head.
She let out a big sigh as she walked into the formal, floral garden. The colors, even now in the evening light were bright and lively, with shades of red, orange, blue and violet in every texture and size imaginable. Foxglove, campanula, delphinium and monkshood – the lawns manicured, straight and mature – it was breathtaking. Her bag brushed a lavender plant and its sweet scent followed her for a moment. Enjoying the peace and quiet, she decided to stop for some tea at the cafe that overlooked the Serpentine before heading for a restaurant near her hotel.
The cafe was winding down and staff were wiping tables and clearing up but were happy to serve her. She took her tray to an outdoor table. The sun had re-appeared beneath the cloud level and cast its fading light over the lake. Ducks and swans dawdled and nearby a toddler stood near the edge throwing bits of scone into the water – the father sat edgily on his bench not wanting to over protect the child but still concerned if the furrows on his wide forehead was anything to go by. The little girl in a pretty denim pinafore dress and white sandals was quite blond and wore her hair in platted pig tails with matching ribbons.
She smiled at the scene and nodded to the man silently acknowledging the risks and her participation in any rescue if it were needed. The man raised an eyebrow back and nodded too – a broad grin on his face. He was, she thought as she sipped her tea, quite attractive. His eyes warm and kind. She carried on, savoring her drink, as the child now bored of the ducks turned its attention on her. She put down her cup and lent forward in her seat – making an over the top smile and holding out her hand to the crushed scone being offered to her.
“Why thank you so much.” she said, “Yum, yum.” and turned to the man who was now off his seat and walking towards them.
“Oh I am sorry!” he exclaimed as he got nearer, “Gemma is such a friendly person and likes everyone to be part of the fun.” He stooped down and swept Gemma up in his arms, placing her on his hip quite expertly.
“Me feed ducks.” chirped Gemma
They laughed and Sue made some comment about how no apology was needed. The man went on to say how beautiful the light was this time of the evening. She nodded in agreement, holding out her hand to Gemma’s outstretched tiny fingers. The scone seemed to have disappeared but then she saw it smeared on the gentleman’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but grin,
“Hmmm – you are gorgeous but I bet you are also a little pickle!”
“Well thank you – but I am more used to just being called handsome.” he replied laughing.
“Handsome possibly …but not with extra scone – it doesn’t do it for me!” she flirted and pointed to where the damage had been done.
He looked where she was pointing, his hand quickly flicking off the crumbs onto the floor. She noticed his hands, like his face, were tanned and that his fingernails were well looked after.
“Ah, any better?” he responded, a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.
“Could be!” she said, her own grin spreading across her face, ”But I was really referring to this gorgeous young lady.”
“Yes well, she seems to attract attention wherever she goes does this one.” And with that he tickled Gemma who shrieked and demanded more.
They all laughed and then there was a pause.
“I am David.” he said suddenly.
“Oh … hi David … my name is Sue, Sue Davis.” and without thinking she stuck out her hand for a hand shake.
Slightly bemused he politely took her hand in his for a moment, ”Nice to meet you Sue.” he said. Gemma moved to push herself off David’s hip and he swung her round first, to more laughter, before setting her down,
“Stay away from the water now Gemma, there is a good girl.”
Gemma wobbled off towards a flower bush and they watched her silently for a moment.
“You visiting London?” he asked quietly.
“Just a day or two, not sure now – my plans kind of fell through this afternoon so not really quite sure what I might do.” she said looking at him. He was tall, solid, probably played rugby or something and seemed to keep himself in shape. His fair hair was thinning and was kept short and neat. He was dressed in a grey suit, a plain light blue shirt, a couple of buttons undone at the top with a few wispy chest hairs poking through, and black, expensive looking shoes. She noticed a tie, stuffed carelessly in his trouser pocket, was hanging out an inch or two. His features were quite attractive. She had never really had the benefit of attention from men like him before – men like him normally went for the tall, big breasted, blonde girls who oozed confidence and wit that she didn’t recognize as her qualities.
“Well maybe now you have a new friend.” David said nodding at Gemma, “You might want to hang about a bit longer. You’ve made an impression there.”
“That is very sweet of you. Maybe I will! Nice to meet new people. I don’t often have the courage to do that, but children can be so easy to talk to – - – Have all this time and don’t know really what to do with it. Haven’t made plans… well I did but they are falling through one at a time and leaving me really uncertain with what to do next. I don’t like that makes me edgy …. really.” She was conscious she was now babbling to cover her nervousness at talking to an attractive man and she stopped abruptly.
“So you are a teacher then?”
“Yes – 10 years. On summer holiday now.”
“Ah – school teachers and summer holidays. Probably shouldn’t go there should I?” he winked.
She giggled, “Probably not if you want to stay friends!”
“My wife was a school teacher – primary, the really young ones – and I soon stopped those types of gags.”
“Me too! – love them at that age – so much to learn and so little time before they mature into little thugs many of them. What does she do now, you said she “was” a school teacher?”
“Actually, Kirsten died having Gemma.” he said quietly, “But you were not to know that. It’s been tough but we are making progress Gemma and I.”
“Oh I am so sorry for you.” She said feeling quite unsettled at having put her foot in it.
“Really … please, you don’t have to be, you weren’t to know. I like talking about Kirsten, often I bore people stupid, but you are the first woman I have talked to on my own since I lost her. And actually it’s quite nice.”
“Oh.” was about as much as she could say, “I mean I think that’s a compliment – isn’t it?”
“I should think so! And thank you for making this so easy. Gemma … come away please.” Gemma was edging towards the lake side again.
The tea in Sue’s cup was cold but she didn’t care. “What you doing now, this evening?” she asked.
“Emm, we just got here – a minute ahead of you. Normally we walk round the lake, over the bridge and then down into Knightsbridge for something to eat. I have a favorite restaurant that is child friendly and the waitresses adore her.”
“Would you mind if I walked with you – I mean just to the bridge? It is nice to have company if I am honest.”
“…. why not – Gemma would be glad of the company and actually so would I.” She stood up and found that she barely reached his shoulders he was so tall. She smiled at him and turned to look at Gemma who was walking back towards them.
“Come on then Pickle, shall we go find some more ducks and maybe a squirrel?” she said and squatted down beside the toddler to take the squashed flower offered to her. They wandered round the front of the cafe, and turned left to walk along the lake shore. It was quieter here than on the path, and they spread out across the path. Him walking slowly with the pushchair and she beside him. Gemma walked slightly in front stopping now and again to point or pick something off the floor. He began to talk about himself to her delight and she learnt he worked in finance, lived in Kensington and was indeed a rugby player. They laughed at a couple of silly stories about his team mates.
Far too quickly they arrived at the bridge which crossed the Serpentine and allowed the traffic to cross through the park. She needed to turn right up towards Lancaster Gate. They stopped at the corner. Gemma climbed up into her pushchair.
“I’ve really enjoyed meeting you Sue.” he said.
“Me likewise.” she replied.
“I’d like to see you again – we’d like to see you again.” he corrected himself, “Wouldn’t we, Gemma?”
The little girl was leaning back, sucking her thumb, the fingers of her other hand playing with a bit of hair that had fallen out of her pig-tails. She nodded.
“Well so would I if you would.”
“Emm – if I give you my mobile number – maybe you could call me later or text me and we could fix something, maybe tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
He wrote his phone number on the back of a till receipt from his supermarket that was in his wallet. She tore a bit off and wrote her number on it and handed it to him. “Just in case I lose yours or something!” There was a pause and then he leaned a bit awkwardly and went to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled, laid a hand gently on his shoulder and returned the kiss. “Thank you both for such a lovely time – see you soon Gemma – and you David?”
“Bye for now – thanks.” he said.
She turned and began to walk away and looking her shoulder, she noticed that David had turned the push chair so that Gemma could wave. Sue waved back and then set off up the hill.
A moment or two later her mobile purred. She opened the lid and smiled as she read the message Thanks. Hear from you soon. David x
“What a lovely man.” she thought, “First one in ages that didn’t want to get into my knickers before even knowing my name. Shame he didn’t know I was going commando today.”
© 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.
Welcome Home
I stood there at the arrivals gate, barely able to contain myself. Every fiber of my being ready to burst forth and splatter you with love the instant you walked though those horrid gates. You had texted me moments ago “@ customs”. Close, so close I could taste it. Taste your lips on mine, the comfort of your arms around me at long last. Oh my love it had been too long, far too long.
bzz bzz
I looked at my blackberry “some sort of delay – sorry love – Patience – just a little longer”. I died a small death. NO! no …no…no…. I cradled the little black electronic device to my chest, hugging it. Come on … come on!
You had gone on this adventure trek in the desert to physically push yourself to the limits. I had wished to go with you but had been unable to convince my boss to let me have the time off. I was needed at the office. Exploding in anger, I had said a few things that could have been career limiting.
With a last hug you warned me that you’d have no cell service out there, in the middle of nowhere. Brightly and jokingly I responded that I’d survive … but would you? I had not realized then, how crushing the silence would be. Day after day I stared at the little black screen, willing it to buzz and do it’s little dance. Waiting for a sign that you were thinking of me, loving me even from miles away. I felt you in my heart, thought of you obsessively and looked at the picture of us on my screensaver remembering out goodbye and your warning. You had known how affected I would be. The one left behind.
How I had missed you. The ache and longing so profound I could only compare it to mourning a loss. The void that had been created with your departure was a warning however, that I had become far to dependent on you. At first I felt abandoned. Lashing out like a petulant child. Angry at your having left without me. Talking to friends with long “What if’s” and “it’s not fair’s”. Then I settled. Pouting. Miserable. Hurt. A few days later I snapped out of it. It’s not who I am to dwell and engage in self pity marathons. I’m not this person! Who the hell is this? I reclaimed my independence, found satisfaction in knowing you loved me and had come into my life. I kept busy, not to flee loneliness, but because it’s in my nature. I saw neglected friends, attended some events and relaxed in the quiet meditation of solitude.
I was walking to the gym, as per usual for that time of day, when the no longer so familiar bzz bzz resonated in my pocket. My heart soared! The imposed cone of silence had been lifted! Frantically I fumbled with the keyboard, typing in my password, trying to get to the sweet words, my eyes and heart thirsty as if they had been the ones in the desert sands. I sank to my feet giddy with tears of relief. “You would have loved it. Love you. MISS YOU. Can’t wait to see you. Home soon.” I responded frenetically, afraid of renewed silence. But the fear was pointless as the flow of texts resumed, your love flowing towards me in a torrent of funny, sexy and playful messages.
Now, here I was quivering with anticipation. Biting my lower lip, standing on my toes to look over the people in front of me. Not wanting to miss the split second you came into view.
And you did.
You braced yourself as you saw me hurdling towards you, dropping your bags and bending you knees, arms open wide. A huge smile on your face and the fatigue of the trip gone in a flash. We collided. My legs wrapped around your waist, my arms around your neck a shower of kisses made you dizzy. You turned us around and around as our lips finally met. The world melted away, there was only you and me and utter silence broken only by the rhythm of our hearts beating. You stumbled a little finding a wall to brace me up against. Our kiss continued, long, intense, deep and soulful. A thousand “hello’s”, a million “I missed you’s” and an endless series of “I’m so happy to be with you’s” were exchanged.
You let me slide down, still kissing me, not wanting to break our renewed connection. Your hands cupped my face holding me there a moment, frozen, making me feel so very precious. You pulled me in close, an arm wrapped around my back and waist, the other around my shoulders. A protective cocoon. My digits played with the bottom of your t-shirt searching for skin. Not finding it I pulled your top out of your shorts, at last my palms glided along your lats, your abs, your lower back. You sucked your breath in, your body tensing at the delight of my cool fingertips making their way up like the child’s song “itsy bitsy spider”. You pulled away reluctantly, feeling more than a twitch in your shorts… we stared at each other almost not believing.
“harrumph …. Get a fucking room you two!”
We burst out laughing at the grumpy soul that had spewed those words like venom. But we had the antidote, love coursing in our veins.
I grabbed your smaller backpack and you followed me to the car. The whole way home, a happy silence between us. I did want to hear all about your trip but right then I just required the stillness – to soak up the pleasure of you, sitting there, next to me. You seemed to know this intuitively. Your hand on my knee, playing, caressing, stroking. My body responded, I sighed, as your hand traveled a little higher. My inner thigh hyper sensitive to your gentle back and forth. We had often fooled around in the car, but it wasn’t a sexual energy that was between us this time.
I parked. We made it to the elevator. We kissed so long that we missed it and had to wait for it to come back down again. We didn’t mind as we indulged in the pure ecstasy of each others presence. Down the hall we walked, I chattered happily now and you just smiled as you watched me act like a hunting dog, going up ahead, turning around, coming back and leading the way again.
The key turned in the door. We walked in. The bags dropped. Home.
That’s when the world outside was no longer a witness. You grabbed me, pulled me in so close I could barely breath. “ I missed you” you whispered rapidly breathless. I knew you wanted a shower but my hands were already getting rid of your clothing with a different plan in mind. Every inch of me ached with the need for us to unite again in the most intimate way possible. Your kiss was long and sensual. Love emanating from you like a force field, inviting me – and only me – in.
We dropped to the floor, headless of the mess we were leaving behind us, or caring that only a few feet away a comfortable bed beckoned. Our eyes could not leave one another, our hands touching, sometimes soft and tender at other moments frenzied. Naked flesh cried out elated at the touch of skin against skin, arms hugged, legs squeezed, mouths traveled, tongues licking and chests heaving with pleasure and in the blink of an eye there you were poised, looking down at me, my legs wide in welcome, your cock entering me slowly, pushing the walls apart softly as you slid inside. We gasped as our bodies at last united. A tear rolled down our cheeks in unison. Slowly we made love.
Hips thrusting, cunt clasping and not letting go, cock buried and never wanting to leave, hairs on our arms reaching out to the heavens, moans and cries of pleasure resonating and bounding against the walls… it did not take long for our bodies to explode in united, thrilling and total abandon to one another. The joy of our reunion manifested in an orgasm that flowed with, to and from each other. Too soon, it was over.
“Welcome home” I sighed as you lay on my chest, my fingers curling in your hair my thighs sticky from our passion. With your arms wrapped around me you replied, panting softly “never apart this long … again… ever“. Your lips found mine and you kissed me deeply, less hurried, starting the play again. I smiled . All was well with the world again. My man was home.
© 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.
Quickie
There’s always that smell in the air. Every tanning salon, regardless of company logo, has it. That mixture of heat, sunscreen and sun kissed flesh. It isn’t an unpleasant odor. In fact for years, in the long winter months it’s all that I needed to make me feel warm in an instant, taking me for a moment to whatever sunny destination captured my fancy.
I walked in and up to the desk, gave my name to the pretty little blond with overly large breasts and a lip glossed pout. When did those working around me get to be younger than I? And did I ever seem a child in a woman’s body like that? I briefly remembered when everyone seemed older and the folly of wanting to be their age – wishing my life away with impunity. What a fool indeed. I sighed, feeling a little down. To add insult to injury, the sun bed I wanted was going to be a 25 min wait.
Annoyed but not surprised, I made my way to the seating area where I pulled out my blackberry and began working. God I hate waiting for a tan. I sensed a familiar scent, above the one of the salon and caught you in time to see your face light up, and a smirk cross your lips. You had been watching me for a while by looks of it and derived a great deal of pleasure in having been able to openly spy on me. I grinned back and raised an eyebrow. “What you doing here?” you just shrugged your shoulders and replied “ looking for you …. Bored?” I nodded and told you that I had another 20 min wait and was grateful for your company.
“I have something else in mind” you whispered as you walked away from me and slowly opened the door to the towel storage room where I knew they also stored the tanning lotion bottles clients left behind with neat little name tags labeling them. I had often giggled at the idea of those little silent soldiers all in a line on their shelves, waiting patiently for the return of their owner, mine included. I could hear the sound of a washer or dryer going.
You stood in the doorway, looking at the otherwise empty waiting area and pulled your shirt off in one sweeping gesture. Your handsome chest and shoulders now exposed, you walked into the little room and made a come hither gesture that I could not misinterpret. “You can’t be serious?” I blurted out. The only response I got was your smile. I got up and half ran to join you. The door shut behind me and I looked at you in the small and hot space.
Perspiration was starting to form on your skin giving you a glow. I did not move finding myself uncertain. What if a person walked in? What if they needed some clean towels? Or a client wanted their lotion? But all those fears left my mind when I felt your hands on my face, my head tilt upwards and your soft lips crush mine. The desire in the gesture was so overwhelming that I forgot how to breath. My knees gave way as I stood there dumb and deaf to the world outside of that kiss.
Wetness flowed freely from within, my own desire now awake in your arms. The feel of your chest against the palm of my hand, the weight of your body leaning and pushing me against the closed door, the softness of your skin, the smell of you in my nostrils. I wanted you and I wanted you now. Inhibition melted away like honey left out in the sun on a hot summer day. There was little time to waste with foreplay. I turned around, bent over, and exposed my rear to you. You unceremoniously pulled my panties down and as I let my hand slide to my clit and start the slow build up, you undid your own zipper and pulled your member out. Within moments I could feel the tip of your head slowly parting the tender lips of my cunt and with a well practiced stroke you buried yourself in me. A moan escaped my lips, covered by the sound of the washer you continued to rock in and out. Your hands caressed and wandered a moment over my ass, the view a thrilling one.
There I was still in my suit, my jacket on the floor discarded like dirty laundry, my shirt still tucked in and skirt wrapped around my waist like an extra wide bow and the satin flesh just glistening in the half dark. You looked down and you could see yourself enter, then disappear between the folds. One moment there, the next gone with only the sensation of warm, slickness to remind you of the task at hand. That feeling of being buried deep within me the most thrilling of all. I could feel my clit getting harder and starting to bulge, but was far from release when the sound of your own breath filling the small space told me this quickie would indeed be quick.
We fell into a rhythm, the washer giving us the beat to follow, not breaking that staccato, driving you, driving me, driving us… as the cycle changed and sped up so did your penetrating thrusts. The heat was intense, almost uncomfortable, the fear of being found out a marvelous aphrodisiac and the smell of our sexes in our noses … it was more than you could handle. Your hands ripped into my flesh, you grabbed my hips, pulled me into you as you thrust a last time and moaned out loud and spilled your seed inside of me. Breathless you half collapsed bracing yourself on the door above my head.
“Mrs Lillith??” I felt you hastily pull out, and watched your juice dribble to the floor. I leaned in and grabbed a towel and wiped as much of it up as possible tossed it in the large pile of dirty towels; pulled my skirt down, grabbed my tanning lotion and a clean towel, walked out … “Ah, Mrs Lillith, your bed is ready it‘s #6 ” I smiled, and nodded, went to the seat where I had left my bag as the pretty young thing walked away with swaying hips to care for new customers that had now arrived.
I sensed you moments before you put your arms around me shivered with pleasure as you whispered “What of you love?” I turned, kissed you on the lips … “Oh, 15 minutes is plenty of time to masturbate mon amour” and walked away grinning, ready for my tan.
© 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.
The Secret Garden
Inspired by and written in collaboration with Silia
In the late afternoon she had finally made it to his village, after what had seemed like an endless maze of transportation networks. In the heat of the midday sun, travel bag over one shoulder and a phrasebook in her hand, she trudged through the streets trying to avoid the stares from the tight knit local community. She had dressed in a ridiculously conservative way – a white cotton cardigan over a long, blue dress – so as not to draw attention to herself. It had in fact created the opposite effect…or perhaps it was simply the glow of her ivory white skin, and flushed cheeks in the Mediterranean sun.
She was so relieved when she finally found the house – the one she had only seen in pictures, but had branded to memory. Checking the surrounding landscape, somehow familiar yet not, everything appeared to be exact. This was indeed the place. At long last, she had arrived to the one tiny plot of earth on this intricate planet that she had been looking for with longing in her heart.
He had said he was coming alone for the weekend to relax and recharge his batteries. She sincerely hoped that the plan hadn’t changed since there was no way to connect to her email for his regular updates. In fact, her last contact with him had been from an Internet Cafe at the airport the previous day. She smiled nervously. He had no idea she was in the country let alone in this remote village. She had planned the trip so painstakingly covering all her bases…including communication. They always maintained contact and she had struggled to find a story for her silence today. Staying close to the truth had proven effective. She would be away from her computer…going to a small village. This was no word of a lie. The lack of communication, however, was making her slightly uneasy. She couldn’t be absolutely certain he’d be there but she had a far better chance of catching him alone here than in his city home.
She took a deep breath and hesitantly opened the black wrought iron gate.
The beautiful villa rose before her, the heart in her chest fluttering with pride as she thought on the fact that he had designed this home. It showed. It was all him…the place where he loved to be. She admired the details, the choice of color for the exterior finish, the strong lines used, the no nonsense approach to elegance. She took it all in before moving toward the front door. What would she do if it were locked? Chances were pretty good that it would be. She trembled a little, the enormity of what she was doing starting to percolate. Sit in the garden? She laughed as a vision of herself gardening flashed in her mind, roses tucked in her hair, dirt on her hands and knees, her dress folded into her waist. Gardening, here … imagine that!
She closed her eyes a moment. Yes, it was roses she smelled. She could feel the scent of them lingering in her nose like a lovers caress. How many times she had talked to him about turning the dry barren land into an exotic secret garden? One where they would lie under an olive tree on hot summer afternoons and whisper there longings to each other as their hands would mindlessly meander the many hills and valleys of their bodies. In each others arms they would plan their future to the lullaby of evening breezes and song birds.
A shrill cry suddenly filled the air and brought her out of her reverie with a smile on her lips. Aside from her loud feathered friend, it was quiet, the shutters closed tightly. With an exhilarating thump in her chest, she reached for the door handle fingers hesitant as she suddenly panicked at the possibility that he might be inside with company. She dropped her hand grabbing her dress, unconsciously crumpling the fabric in a ball. What if he was there? It would ruin her surprise. A glance at her watch reassured her. He had specifically said he wouldn’t arrive until evening. Again she took hold of the handle and this time she turned it. To her surprise, and immense relief, it opened.
Inside the villa was dark and cool. A beautiful and welcome reprieve from the humid day. Her nerves were so on edge she could barely breathe as it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She stood quietly inside the door, ears straining for any sounds within. Silence reigned supreme. She was alone. No jingle, thud or swish was coming from any part of the house but she felt compelled to check everywhere just in case. She didn’t know what she’d do if she came face to face with anyone but him. She simply hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
Removing her shoes she began walking softly through the house. Her sore, tired feet tingled from the coolness of the marble floors. She checked inside the rooms on the first floor and climbed the stairs to the second story. A quick glance in each bedroom and bathroom confirmed that no one was there but after a second sweep she noticed something that made her freeze in her tracks in the master bedroom. His bags – or, at least, they looked to be his. He had been there already and had gone out again, perhaps for a walk! Now what?
Quickly, she returned downstairs for her shoes and bag and took them to one of the upstairs bedrooms. She hid the evidence of her presence under the bed before heading back downstairs, stopping in a bathroom to refresh herself. She removed her dress and bra. In the mirror she could see that her body was shiny with perspiration and her hair wild with curls. Her cheeks were still flushed with heat and excitement. The neatly trimmed dark pubic hair was easily visible under the inadequate cover of her panties. The matted, barely there, wisps curling sensually up against the see-through cotton, until it too was slipped off.
Carefully and quietly, she began washing herself, her face, shoulders, arms, breasts, underarms and across her belly. The coolness of the water made her gasp and her pink nipples became erect. She rubbed them absentmindedly at first until she felt the pleasure in it. She glanced again at her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts looked rounded and full and she pulled hard on one nipple, almost cruelly, before attacking the other. They stood even taller than she had ever known they could. Closing her eyes a moment, she fantasized as she had a thousand times. She ached for the feel of him nuzzling her, his hands holding, squeezing while his lips took each breast in his mouth. She imagined his tongue would dance on each tip until her breath left her body and her knees would go weak. Pulling herself back to reality once again, she marveled at how the sensation in her nipples seemed to have a direct connection to the crimson jewel between her legs. It was like flipping a switch.
She hadn’t begun to wash below her stomach but a distinct and familiar wetness had already saturated the area. She reached down with her fingers and parted the lips tenderly. They were, indeed, slippery and moist. With some water and sweet smelling soap, she carefully caressed her clit – hovering there for a moment out of sheer pleasure and then moving slowly back with her fingers. She was swollen now. As she touched the sensitive area just around the opening she imagined his penis, hard and full, pressing there and wanting in. She slid her small delicate finger inside. Her head was thrown back as a moan escaped her lips and her breath caught with the intensity of the pleasure this stimulation and dream provided.
Only he could make her feel this way; have her succumb to the sensations by the mere thought of him touching her. He would be passionate, intense and overflowing with desire and that certainty only served to push her that much further into ecstasy. The sweet release, however, would have to wait for him. That is why she had come all this way. Pulling her finger out, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to composed herself. She needed to focus on preparing for his imminent return.
Clean and fragrant, she ran down the hall giddy in her nudity. She hid her panties and bras with her other belongings under the bed and slipped into her dress as she glided quietly back downstairs and found a dark corner in which to wait. There must have been thousands of butterflies in her stomach and her heart pounded so hard against her chest she thought it might break through. Time seemed to pass with cruel longevity and although she had only been standing there a few minutes, the wait was starting to seem like an eternity. For him, though, she would wait forever and so she crouched to make herself more comfortable and began to daydream of how it would be when he walked through that door. It was a dream that she’d had for more than a month…ever since buying her ticket to the other side of the world. Being here now seemed surreal and the thought of her body wrapped in his arms, and the realization that it would soon become a reality, was beyond imagining. But it didn’t stop her from trying.
The door clicked and he entered the house quickly. She covered her mouth to muffle the escaping gasp that she had no ability to prevent. She couldn’t see him clearly yet. The brightness of the sun, when he opened the door, had temporarily blinded her. In the dimness now, she could see only the general outline of his body. He looked taller and more broad of shoulder than she had imagined. As her eyes adjusted, again, to the shadows, she watched in pleased amazement as he took off his shirt. Suddenly his scent filled the air – sweat mixed with cologne – intoxicating and sweet; to her an aphrodisiac. He was so unbelievably handsome. His short cropped, graying hair showed off the attractive shape of his head. The skin on his smooth shoulders and nicely defined arms and chest looked wonderfully tasty. His shorts hung comfortably on his hips showing off his navel – that alluring place where she started with her tongue on many a daydream.
Evidently he hadn’t seen her and was oblivious to her presence. She was hesitant to approach him. She wished to watch him, to observe his movements, but she knew she had little time before she was discovered. She wanted to surprise him…it was after all the entire objective of all her planning. Of course, he would be surprised regardless…but she had something very specific in mind – something she had fantasized about. As he turned his back to her, his beautiful back, she saw her opportunity and took it. Quietly she left her hiding place and tiptoed across the floor toward him. Several feet away from him, her heart beating wildly, she spoke his name softly.
She could see his body tense as he was obviously trying to comprehend what he had just heard. She moved closer and placed her hands tenderly on his arms. “… my love, I’m here with you.” He trembled but remained still as if he were afraid to look back should what he have heard and felt be a trick of his imagination. She wanted so much to look into his face, to see his eyes. She caressed his arms relishing the strength and the warmth of his skin. To feel him in the flesh was beyond delight…it was rapture. “Silia?” he breathed finally; her name like a prayer on his lips. He turned slowly to look at her, his eyes wide and full of wonder and love. “How?” was all he could muster. She placed her hands on his lovely face and smiled up at him adoringly. “Does it matter?”
Without warning his arms engulfed her and his lips absorbed hers. The softness and agility of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss nearly made her lose her mind immediately. She had been prepared for passion but nothing like this. Her knees gave way but he held her into him as they continued to breath as one. In the next gasp she felt her consciousness shift. The desire rose in her like an erupting volcano and she returned his passion. She wanted with all of her being to be a part of him, to devour him. Their tongues rushed inside each others mouths, soft and moist and eager to taste whatever they could. The rest of their bodies, as if entities unto themselves, were already discovering each other; colliding and undulating with the intense pleasure of being together at long last. As he buried his face in her neck and cravingly uttered her name over and over, she found she did not want to wait another second, she wanted him inside her… now.
She didn’t need to tell him. His hands had already discovered her nakedness beneath her dress and the wetness between her legs. The sparse hairs of her cunt were moist and tickled his fingers in welcome. He explored her folds without hesitation. Buried three digits inside of her awakening the beginnings of an orgasm. She couldn’t believe how quickly she had reached this frenzied state. She reached down and pulled his fingers out. “Why?” he asked. Her eyes implored “Not yet.”
He removed her dress exposing her flesh to his sight. She could see tears forming in his eyes with overwhelming joy and desire as he freed himself of his shorts. She gasped silently. The flared tip was as wide as the head of a poised cobra and sat over a long shaft which didn‘t seem to end. She marveled at his member, red with large veins circling and running directly up to the glands, which amazed. He was magnificent in his virility. His hands brought her down to the cold marble floor. They were both completely nude, and as his mouth covered hers again, she felt the greatest anticipation she had ever known. She couldn’t wait to feel her cunt straining around his cock, to have it probing into her deepest inner self. Her arms went eagerly around his neck and she started to jut her hips to his.
He pulled her close until her nipples touched against his chest, then made his way slowly lower … lower … lower ….that is when he lost control. He pushed back in aggressively with his long fingers making a come hither motion as his tongue flicked boldly at her clit. He hit the top of her G-spot surprising her with the accuracy and speed of the discovery and she lost all control. The orgasm that ripped through her was like a tidal wave. As she arched her back, her moans rose to the ceiling and filled the room like a symphony. She had come before but not like this. Never like this.
He had positioned his body between her legs. Feeling him there, his weight pushing against her inner thighs, the tip of his penis against her opening caused her to thrust her hips toward him…her body begging for more, longing to feel his desire deep within her. But she also had a great need to taste him, to let her tongue roll over him, to see his face lit with pure ecstasy while he was in her mouth. “I want to taste you first.” she gasped and tried to move. But he was too far gone. She moaned and succumbed as he kissed her mouth to silence and grabbed down to hold each of her thighs with his hands. He lifted them up high and bent them back toward her shoulders. She was open to him now, fully, the crying lips vulnerable before the flared head of his poised member. As he parted lips from hers, she managed to mouth the word “please”.
The pulpy head pressed solidly into the wet lips and they parted into a wide, tight clamp of moist flesh around him. The fantastic squeeze of her embraced every inch as he steadily pushed deeper and deeper spreading her apart. She couldn’t believe how huge he was and when he reached the deepest recesses the sensation was a cross between pain and the most intense pleasure she had ever known. The grate of his flared head inflamed the tissues inside her as he pulled in and out. When he left her cunt she felt terribly empty.
His cock was melting with fire. He could feel the surge rising. “Fuck me!” she gasped. “I will show no mercy. I can’t….I may not last.” he warned. “Yes!” was all she could muster as he plunged back in. She screamed but thrust herself upward to meet him full on. He rested on her legs to penetrate as deeply as he could. She was now at his mercy and it excited her beyond belief. With another thrust she was coming in full force, over and over. She couldn’t even tell him, her body was controlling her mind, but he must have felt the quakes of her walls against him. He ground with animal abandon between her legs as gush after gush of is cream radiated inside her, she watched his face, his eyes, felt his body completely engulfed in ecstasy as he moaned “I’m coming!” . There was nothing more satisfying. Absolutely nothing.
They lay like two hot coals on the cool marble, entwined in each other – just as she had seen it in her dreams. Complete happiness, love, and gratification radiated outward as a huge smile spread upon her face. Now the entire weekend stretched out before her like an inviting path to a secret garden. It was perfect. As his member stirred once again he looked to her, desire writ on his features; she wrapped her arms around him possessively and whispered into his ear “Oh yes, now, and again, and again my love.”
© 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.
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
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
© 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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