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A personal message from Fantasia Lillith
Re: A Summer Break
I know this may mean loosing you, although I hope that will not be the case. But I need a break from the blog. I have many things underway for you to look forward to, the book (for one) and a collection of hot hot stories from the Alliance Series as well as the Toy Chest Series – not to mention some little “gems” here and there.
But there is only so much one person can do. At this time, my world requires me to shift focus for a time.
All is well, in fact I have never been happier! But I just need to take a little summer vacation. I need to re-charge my creative energy, focus on the demanding task of the book … and if I lingered here as well, I fear the quality would suffer, and I would lose you for good.
I say “See you soon!!” and hope that you will still be here when I return in a few weeks … tan lines and all!
I do cherish each one of you. Never doubt.
A request … written in 20 min flat – no editing – pure as it came out of my head! All I had to go on was:
“A red-head with fire in her eyes”.
Hope you enjoy it. This was fun. I like these flash sessions. If anyone else has a request, let me know – perhaps I will make it a habit to “reward” my faithful followers with such personalized morsels!
She sat there in the corner of the cafeteria crying. People walked past her, most not even noticing the gentle tremble of her shoulders, and those that did seemed embarrassed by it hurrying on by as fast as they could to avoid having to “do something” feigning ignorance of the obvious pain.
He had gone to this place to people watch – a favourite pastime. Had noticed the striking red head arrive with fire in her eyes, confidence in her step and a stunning smile that made everyone grin back no matter their mood. Not skinny but far from overweight, she carried herself well, was elegant in her mannerism and had a wonderful whimsy sense of style that spoke of a playful nature and a love of colour.
He could faintly smell her. She smelled of passion, of intensity … of sex. One of those women that you see and immediately you imagine yourself plunging into her wetness, losing yourself in her deep folds, her arms and the satin touch of her fingers. Instantly your cock raises to salute and desperately wants… aches… desires. Any grown man is condemned to act like the teenager yet unable to control his dick. He could almost hear the moans and whispers she would make. A women that made mere men feel like kings. A rare bread. A breath of passion in a dull existence. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Moments later a man showed up and joined her. The obvious ying to her yang, his presence was like a thunderstorm approaching. She beamed like the sun trying to pierce the thick black clouds of turmoil that surrounded him. He sat, across from her, the weight of the world on his shoulder and a look of self imposed importance crossing the smile that resembled a smirk. Instantly dis-likable. Yet she laughed with honest gaiety, cajoled and kissed him – for a moment she was rewarded with a smile that never reached his eyes.
He held her hand – looking as if he was about to tell her some terrible news, a death perhaps? Her eyelashes fluttered. Watching from a distance he managed to lip read her anguished “why” and then the man – shrugged his shoulders, got up and left her.
Stunned – he watched her entire body language change. Her little world had crumbled. She reached out into the air – as if to silently call him back. Tears flowed from her bright green eyes. In this vulnerable and public place she had been dumped. It was shocking. It was unforgivable. He watched the lovely red head falter, the flame flickering in her as if a gust of wind threatened to snuff her out any moment. He couldn’t just sit there any longer.
Grabbing his courage by the proverbial horns he got up, made his way to the coffee shop, bought a decaf mocha chino and made his way to her.
He sat down carefully, timid. Reached over and placed the beverage in front of her.
She stared at it – lost in her thoughts not seeing it at first behind the curtain of damp tears. Without thinking she picked it up and took a sip. Her eyes went wide and she finally looked at the man sitting across from her. She smiled and took another sip. His hand reached out to gently caress the back of hers and just as quickly was gone.
“You deserve better” he whispered.
“How do you know?” she replied.
“I know.” Was all he added.
In silence he kept her company while she sipped her drink and he watched the subtle signs of returned composure. Her tears were slowly replaced by curiosity. Her scent lingered in his brain playing with him – toying like a pair of ghost hands rolling his balls gently back and forth, a set of perfect ghost lips surrounding his …..
“Where a door closes – another opens?” she giggled into her hot beverage.
“Indeed” he blew out breathless.
Pillow Talk Press Presents – an Alliance Series Tale
‘Round Peg Meets Square Hole’
By Fantasia Lillith and Elsiewrites
A blind date. So it had really come down to this? I mean I knew I was a lifeless dweeb and all: my hobby is fixing things that were never meant to be fixed, but a blind date? Really?
The tip of the soldering iron looked huge in the magnifying glass, and it trembled slightly as I worked. The 48-pin connector I had clamped in place with alligator clips filled my field of vision like the surface of the Death Star. Almost there…True enough, I hadn’t been out on a date since I’d moved to this city. True enough, I was working two jobs: days in a bike shop, evenings at the computer lab, helping undergraduates un-crash their machines and recover their homework. True enough, my plans for the weekend consisted of a bottle of wine, internet porn, and a circa-1985 x386 pc-clone that refused to boot. Why the heck not? Maybe it’d be fun.
Maria had offered me Saturday off, paid, if I went. She said I deserved it. She said we’d get along great. Maria could be very convincing when she chose to be.
One more pin to solder. Almost there…
Fuck, I was late already. I carefully replaced the soldering iron in its cradle (you only drop that thing in your lap once!) and switched off my halogen work light. Fuck, did I have time for a quick shower? Yes, I’d make time. Fuck, did I even have any clean underwear? Screw the underwear: I’d go commando, make do with a clean(ish) pair of jeans and t-shirt.
By the time I left the apartment I was already fifteen minutes late, and I was ten blocks from the bar where we were supposed to meet. I thought ruefully of the state of my bedroom, hoped I hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying out. Not like it mattered; I wouldn’t be bringing anyone home. It was just a first date. A blind date.
I had met Maria two weeks ago for a cup of coffee. She had been telling me about this “cute” guy she had working for her. At first I thought she had a crush on him, and talking to me about it was her way of trying to remain faithful to her new hubby – her third – until she told me point blank she was setting us up. I cringed. More often than not she and I had very different tastes. Plus I had gone through so much lately; I just wasn’t really in the mood to date. But she had a way of making you agree to anything just to get her off your back.
I sighed deeply, my breasts looking like they were about to fall out of my sweater, and ordered another drink.
So here I was sitting at a bar I did not know, nursing a second beverage and asking myself if I was about to be stood up. I wore, a red sweater that I had paired up with a form fitted dark denim skirt and the sexiest stilettos I had in my arsenal. I wanted to look my best, you just never know. The fine cashmere and silk blend hugging my curves, stretched as I sighed yet again. After this drink I was leaving. I waited for no man. In fact I was tempted to just down this one and depart.
I felt a tentative tap on my shoulder. I turned and under the slovenly exterior that greeted my first glance – I saw the most intense green eyes I had ever come across. What was shocking was the intense loneliness and hidden hope.
I felt a certain moistness, and my cock rise between my thighs.
I was late. Late late late! I considered turning around and walking out of there, going home and masturbating and getting drunk, my standard Friday night modus. Thing is I’d never hear the end of it from Maria. The woman has a very forceful personality.
How was I supposed to recognize this woman anyway? I nudged my way through a knot of hipsters toward the bar. The music here was too loud, the place was too crowded. I didn’t belong here.
Oh shit, that had to be her. And I was seriously underdressed.
A beautiful woman in red and black: fair, nearly translucent skin, delicate hands with long fingers, and an angelic face. She was idly toying with a nearly empty martini glass. She was shorter than me, and quite busty, a fact that was accentuated by her form-fitting sweater. She looked like she was dressed for a fashion shoot. And I looked like a schlub. She tapped her high heels impatiently and stirred the remains of her drink.
Against my will, I felt my dick swell as it hung unrestrained in my baggy jeans. Christ, she looked like a model! Ok, not an anorexic-skinny model, but still… I was in deeply over my head. What I should really do is go home now, I thought, go home and lube up the Excel and dream up some excuse for Maria tomorrow.
I swallowed and stepped up behind her, raised my arm and tapped her on the shoulder. She swiveled on the barstool and I felt her flashing brown eyes upon me, appraising me, summing me up. My treacherous penis was threatening to become a full-on erection.
“Hi” I said, feeling like an asshole, “I’m sorry I’m late. Can I … can I, um, buy you a drink?”
Good thing Maria had warned me that he’d be a “fashion disaster” and not to judge this book by the cover. She was correct, there was indeed no style there and I wasn’t even sure if everything he wore was fresh. I could feel my nose wiggling trying to at least assess if he had showered. But she had also been dead on regarding his looks. He was very, very cute. By his shy demeanor, he was adorably and utterly oblivious to that fact. That made him all the more attractive.
“Sure, Apple Martini if you don’t mind. I know it’s a really girlie drink but they are good”. I said watching him trying to politely squeeze in next to me.
“I was worried you were going to stand me up.” He opened his mouth to explain … I quickly cut him off.
“I almost didn’t show up either … don’t worry about it. In my mind I was thinking three martinis and then go home. I am actually glad you came. Maria was right … you are cute.” I saw his face flush a deep red and his ears were burning crimson.
He ordered the drinks and settled into some small talk. I revealed my profession as a social worker, leaving out my specific field of support. He talked about his move, leaving out the reasons for it. I sensed a woman might have had something to do with it. We both danced around the really personal issues avoiding revealing too much too soon. We obviously both carried a lot of baggage, but that in itself gave us some common ground and we did get progressively comfortable.
Before long, I was on my fourth Martini, my cut off if I don’t want to be hammered and wake up the next day with yet another regret to note in my diary. I felt warm, and at ease with him. Once he relaxed he was rather charming. Frequently blushing when complimented, passionate about helping others, obviously stuck in life and not sure what to do or where to go. I had to admit it. I liked him. He wasn’t a stray puppy – more like a stray wolf. Yes I liked him, and of course…. that meant a potential problem.
He tried to say something but the noise in the club had gone up a few more decibels. I shook my head to show him I had not heard. Leaning in, he moved my hair carefully with trembling fingers away from my ear. My body quivered in delight and the blood rushed to my balls and nipples. He shouted a little too loudly “You want to go someplace more quiet??”
He stood there, like a big, terrified of rejection teenager. I counted my heart beats pounding in my head. 1 – 2 – 3…. and nodded.
Three beers and I was lit. Not exactly shitfaced, but sober by no stretch of the imagination either. After I blurted it out, I immediately regretted it. I stood there next to her at the bar for a long moment, feeling like a complete doofus. Which, I supposed, I really was.
And then she nodded her head, stood up, grabbed her handbag. I felt a flood of relief. I paid our tab, tipped WAY more than I could afford, and together we made our way through the wall of hipsters to the door.
It was cool outside, and much quieter. She was giggling and stumbling a little in her heels; I was quiet and nervous. If this date was going anything like the way it now looked to be going… Well it had been a very long time, and nothing in this life is ever simple.
There was no discussion about where we were headed, we just walked. We just happened to find ourselves walking the ten or so blocks toward my apartment. She put her arm around my waist to steady herself, and we walked like that together. She smelled nice, like an expensive perfume. Her closeness and warmness felt really good and made my cock strain and chafe against the denim fabric of my jeans. She did most of the talking as we walked, and I was relieved to discover that, despite her exterior looks, she was hardly a prissy girly-girl.
Finally we stopped. We were standing in front of my apartment building, a shady-looking old 6-story brick tenement.
“Well…” I said, “This is my place.”
She giggled and detached herself from around my waist. “Yes, I had guessed that it might be.”
“Would you… Would you like to come up?”
“Yes” she said, a little hesitantly, “I think I’d like to come up. Just for a little while.”
On impulse, I reached over and kissed her. She kissed me back, hard and hot. Her lips felt amazing. I moved in closer to her, keeping my lips pressed against her plump cherry ones. I knew she could feel my straining hard-on through my jeans. She opened her mouth and let my tongue explore her. Our tongues met, and electricity coursed through us. I felt her hand on my ass. I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer to me, squishing her big soft breasts against my chest.
Like a pair of teens, we stood there on the sidewalk, making out in the harsh light of mercury-vapor streetlights. A passing car honked and hooted, and at last she broke off the kiss. “Maybe we should continue this conversation upstairs.” she said with a seductive little smile.
I liked the way his body felt against mine. He was warm and welcoming. His lips were eager and yet, he wasn’t sloppy. His tongue didn’t try to play tag ball with my tonsils and his hands remain polite – if just on the verge of indiscreet.
My nipples were achingly hard. In fact there was a lot that was hard. As we walked up the stairs I braced myself for the potentially magic killing phrase “Oh by the way – That lump in the front of my panties? It’s a dick, and it’s really hard just for you”.
I sighed. He looked at me then and whispered “You alright? We don’t have to … I mean ….” I just smiled as sweetly as I could, swatted his ass and told him to get a move on. I was acting a little more playful than I felt.
His place was as much a mess as he was. I couldn’t believe it. I had seen a few bachelor pads in my day but damn it, this was beyond messy. I wondered if it reflected his state of mind. I was about to unleash something on him and looking at the place, and him … suddenly I felt unsure he would be able to handle it.
He hastily tossed a load of cleanish clothing in a pile, blushing all the time. “Coffee?” he asked trying to find something to do with himself.
“Yeah sure … not a bad idea”. He wondered off into the tiny kitchenette and with trembling hands he went about making a decent cup of joe. I looked at the details around me. Half his belongings it seemed were still in boxes. There were electric bits all over the place, wires and such littered the floor and every surface. I felt like I had accidentally walked into the sorcerer’s lair. The day bed in the corner of the small adjacent room was surprisingly large and the sheets looked clean. Well … at least that.
I was about to get up and join him when I saw it then … there on a small pile of books that seemed to double duty as the nightstand … a black dildo. My jaw dropped. Not just any dildo – that was the Nexus Excel! Not the Aneros for beginners – this was a little more …hard core.
I went to it – drawn like a moth to a flame and picked it up. I turned around holding it in my hand, and with the sweetest smile I could muster, just raised an eyebrow.
The mess… Oh god, the mess! The moment I had let us into the apartment, I realized what a dump the place really was, and I strenuously, achingly wished that I had done a little clean-up. I really hadn’t expected to be bringing anyone home.
I cleared off the kitchen table while the coffee brewed. A Commodore 64, a set of metric torque drivers, my neighbor Claudia’s defunct VCR… “Do you take milk and sugar?”
“A little milk, no sugar” she replied from the bedroom. Oh god, the bedroom… I prayed that I had at least changed the sheets. I honestly couldn’t remember. The erection in my pants ached, and there was no way now it was going away on it’s own. I needed stimulation. The kind of stimulation that nice girls don’t necessarily provide. I prayed to whatever gods of sex there are that she wasn’t one of those ‘nice girls’.
“I’m sorry about all the clutter,” I said, bringing two mugs of hot coffee into the bedroom where she was sitting on the edge of the (clean sheets!) bed. “It’s just that I’m a bit of a pack-rat, and I like to fix things that are broken…”
My voice trailed off into an unfinished sentence when I saw what she was holding in her hands. At least I knew for a fact THAT was clean!
She arched one eyebrow exquisitely.
“Oh boy. You know, I really wasn’t expecting company tonight. The truth is, you know… the fact is I’m a bit of a freak.”
A tiny little smile played on her face. “Do tell.”
Setting the mugs down, I blushed and stammered. “Well the thing is… the thing is that I’m unable to achieve orgasm… What I mean is I can’t get off, physically can’t –it’s incredibly frustrating- without, ah, direct stimulation to my prostate.” I felt red and hot and awkward. This was where she would make her more-or-less graceful hasty exit. The erection in my jeans throbbed mercilessly. It would continue throbbing unabated until I was able to stick that Nexus (or some similar object) up my butt.
“Oh, is that all?” she smiled prettily. “Jeez, I thought you were going to tell me something really shocking. That doesn’t sound like an all bad condition to me… As a matter of fact, I think it might be kind of fun.”
She stood up and gave me a hug. A big hug, a big close warm hug.
We kissed again, and this time she reached down and grabbed the package that was protruding from the front of my jeans. “Mmm… VERY nice!”
I ran my hand down her sweater, feeling the soft fullness of her breasts. My hand continued it’s path down the front of her denim skirt. It was there that I encountered a lump I hadn’t been expecting to encounter. A very prominent lump. My hand stopped there for a moment, and then continued it’s path down to her naked thigh, where I stopped and squeezed her warm flesh. It felt good to touch her, though I was no longer completely sure she was a ‘her’; and I wasn’t completely sure what to make of that.
“Are you… are you a transgendered person?” I asked softly.
She looked up at me, a scared vulnerable look on her face. “No,” she said, “Just a freak. I’m a girl, one hundred percent female… except for the equipment between my legs. I was born this way. I’m a mutant.”
I kissed her again, and squeezed her close, letting the lump in her skirt rub deliciously against the lump in my own jeans.
He was still there. My heart beat faster, my cock got harder, my breath caught in my throat as I kissed him with more vigor. Not only was he still there, but he was holding me tightly, desiring me, wanting me. His lips tasted sweeter than before and a sense of giddiness filled my entire body.
I let my hands caress his body, my fingers finding their way under his shirt I was surprised to find satin smooth skin. He wasn’t an athlete but he had a natural slenderness to him that was pleasing. I found myself begging him breathlessly to take his shirt off.
He complied and I took his hand, pulled him towards me. Together we stumbled onto the bed. He lay next to me – and this time let his hands wander all over my body. He seemed to enjoy teasing me as his touch remained above my clothing. It was maddening and thrilling all at once. I knew my face was flush, I could hear my own moans escape from my lips. I was losing control and I no longer cared. Not one bit.
I let myself relax into it. He had not asked me to leave. He had not asked for more explanation or about the “how” I or he would or could engage in intercourse. No. He had simply accepted me – as a her – and as I was. No odd moment of adaptation … nothing. Could he be real? Or was I at home again, half drunk jerking off in an alcohol induced haze?
His lips on mine as his hand finally made their way under my top made this reality crystal clear. I had never wanted anyone so completely.
My hands underneath her top found her large, shapely breasts and she sighed and pressed her hot body against mine. Her bra was definitely getting in the way.
Hands trembling, I pulled the red sweater off over her head, and went to work on the bra clasp. My head reeled, drunk with the combined effects of alcohol, lust and– dare I think something beyond pure animal lust? Affection, more…?
It had been a really long time since I had been with a girl. Before I had moved to this city in fact. My neighbor, Claudia, had seemed at least potentially interested, but I hadn’t dared pursue that. My last encounter had been with a girl I’d met over the internet, a girl who called herself ‘Je33ica’, and who had claimed to be ‘up for anything’. That one had been particularly traumatic, and she’d said some pretty hurtful things, but really it had been the last in a long line of screwed-up miss-matches.
Back to the present situation: she took the matter into her own hand, unsnapping her bra and letting it fall free. Her breasts were large, full, and beautiful. They were also, I was now certain, completely natural. The nipples were big and pink, and swollen hard, begging to be sucked. Which I did, with great pleasure. I loved the way her body felt in my arms, I loved the way she reacted to my touch, my kisses, my nibbles and sucks.
As I lavished affection on her breasts, she fumbled with the fly of my jeans. Good thing too, because I was about ready to burst my buttons. The pants came tumbling off, and my erection bobbed free, swollen, rock-hard and leaking with eagerness. She grinned hungrily.
“So you’re saying you can’t come without having something up your butt?” she asked, “Not at all?”
I nodded solemnly.
“Not even if I gave you a monster blowjob? You wouldn’t be able to get off?”
I nodded again.
Her grin got even bigger, and she grasped my swollen cock in one hand. Her grip was smooth and soft and firm. “I’m really going to enjoy this then!” she said, as she dove in.
I don’t know how long she sucked me, but it was exquisite. Every blowjob I’d ever had before had involved a girl attempting to prove me wrong, to bring me off with the talents of her mouth, a path that could only end in mutual frustration. She approached the matter like a connoisseur, like a gourmet at a buffet, taking her own pleasure in pleasuring me. She kissed and licked and stroked and swallowed me until I was incoherent, begging wordlessly on my back on the bed, my cock sticking straight up, feeling like it was about a yard long. She licked my balls and nibbled my inner thighs and slurped my length up and down before swallowing me entirely, squeezing my ass cheeks hard and drawing her nails up and down my flesh, only to bob up and, still grinning, start all over again.
The one part of my anatomy that could, and would, set me off like a freaking bazooka, she assiduously avoided. She knew it, and I knew it, and so far it made for the best sex I had ever had in my life. And she hadn’t even taken off her skirt yet.
“God you’re amazing!” she said at long last, pulling back and letting me flop wetly in the night air. She peeled off her dark denim skirt. She was wearing bright red lacy string bikini panties. The head of her dick peeked shyly out the waistband. Taking a deep breath, she peeled her panties down, tossing them aside. “God I want you!” she said huskily, her eyes fixed on mine.
I really enjoyed giving head, I would have continued a lot longer but I had to admit that I had worked myself into a frenzy.
I stripped at last, and stood in my naked glory and watched in amazement as he took in what I had to offer. I saw something I never expected in his eyes, something I had always craved … intense desire – want. Not just lust, but this sense of “right”. His erection held, his smile had a sweet turn to it.
“You are way out of my league. You should be a model. Shit you are hot… ” he whispered.
Standing on the edge of the bed, I watched him make his way towards me on all fours. I looked down and saw a glistening pearl of pre-cum sitting like a gift on the tip of my painfully erect member. Until this very day I had hated my cock – and then he wrapped his fingers expertly around the base, cradled my under sized balls in his hand and licked the drop off before taking me in. Suddenly, with his tongue on my dick, I felt like I had been blessed.
I felt everything with tantalizing clarity and awareness. His hand now cupping an ass and the other pinching a nipple, I felt my desire mound and build and the moan I heard didn’t seem like my own … Deep lustful hunger. It stopped and I looked down to his smiling face.
“Always wanted to do that … How did I do?” He said grinning playfully.
In response I grabbed his hair and moved his lips back to their business. I felt him chuckle with a mouth full of cock. Was this happening? My heart felt light, my body on fire, my soul free. I was a mutant but one he “digged” and I felt stunning, beautiful and powerful.
“Stop … Please I am going to come ….” He let me pop out like a lollipop. I bent down, pushing him over and lay next to him. For a few languid moments I let myself come down a little, caressing his body, kissing him and enjoying not feeling odd in a mans arms.
He rolled over a moment, and with a gentle kiss, he proceeded to unwrap a condom, and sheath himself, then, he unwrapped another, and left it out for me – for when I was ready. The gesture was tender and almost … Loving.
I reached down, gently stroking her cock, fondling her delicate little balls. She looked deeply into my eyes and then smothered me with a kiss full of passion and desire. My own cock strained impatiently inside the condom. Almost there…I’d never actually sucked a cock before. Always been curious about it; never really had the chance. I’m attracted to girls, not guys. Life’s never simple, is it?
As we kissed, I idly stoked her cock, and she petted mine. At long last she broke off the kiss, guided my hand with her own: down past her cock, down below her balls. It was hot and wet and sticky down there. She spread her thighs apart for me.
“You could fuck me now if you want,” she said shyly, “It won’t make me come, but it’ll certainly feel nice.”
Her cock was a little shorter than mine, but noticeably thicker. She was uncircumcised, and the purple head winked at me from beneath the foreskin. She was copiously leaking pre-cum, long sweet sticky clear strands of it. There was a tidily trimmed triangle of pubic hair just above her dick; everything else was neatly shaved or waxed. Just below her delicate little ball sac, in the sandbar space above her crinkled brown asshole, her exquisite little vagina pouted wetly open like a baby tulip. It was perfectly formed and beautiful, lacking only the clit. At the top of the slit, where the clitoris would have been, was the base of her scrotum.
“Be careful of the balls,” she grimaced slightly, “They’re delicate. It’d probably be better if I were on my knees.”
When we got repositioned, she was on all fours on my futon mattress, and I found myself directly behind her, admiring the view. Her dick hung thickly down, her balls dangled loosely. Her little pussy drooled lustfully. She had a beautiful ass, shapely, china-white and smooth. I smacked it once: WHACK, and she wiggled her rear end invitingly. My hand left a red imprint on her butt cheek.
I positioned the end of my cock between her labia, nudged forward. “Oh! Gentle, gentle… I’m kind of small down there… go ahead, just go slow.”
She was hot inside, burning hot and soaking wet. Super tight around my dick, it took a long time for me to get all the way up inside. When I was finally all the way in, it was like my dick was wearing an undersized velvet glove. I wanted more than anything at that moment to fuck the daylights out of her, to come deep in her pussy. But I knew I couldn’t.
“Oh my god that feels good!” she gasped, “Go ahead and fuck me now!”
I did. It felt amazing. My cock was so hard it hurt. She was moaning and weeping, thrusting back to meet my jabs. I wet one finger and slid it up her asshole. The volume of her moans increased. Her butt gripped my finger tightly. Through her flesh, I could feel my dick sliding in and out of her vagina.
“Holy shit!” she growled over her shoulder at me, “You’re amazing! If you so much as touch my dick, I am going to shoot off so hard…!”
I reached around with my free hand to do exactly that, but she stopped me.
“No,” she said, “Not like that. I’d like to do you now… if that’s ok with you?”
It was SO ok with me! I was beyond ready.
He pulled out slowly, as if almost regretting. I felt empty yet my own cock was painfully in need of stimulation and my balls screamed for release. If I waited much longer this would turn from pleasure to pain – and not the good kind.
He lay on his back, his dick naked and pointing up at the ceiling. I was a little surprised, having expected him to just come over and take my place. But he didn’t. He leaned over and grabbed the condom, pulling me towards him playfully and eagerly, and with exquisite stroking rolled it tenderly onto my cock, sheathing me.
He cradled my balls lovingly a moment, and then reached over, squirted lube out of the dispenser on the little side table, and applied it to my cock, his own and copiously on his ass.
“You’re thick, so go easy ok?” He said huskily. His voice had dropped to a sexy base. It made me quiver to hear his need in his voice like that. It was beyond sexy.
I nodded. He then leaned back, and pulled his legs up, all the way up. I was left staring not at my usual vantage point of an ass, but at his cock, his balls and his little brown mark, he was presenting himself to me in a most intimate way.
I placed myself between him. My member hovered near his cock. I pressed gently against his anus. He hissed with pleasure and relaxed completely. Oh yes, he was indeed use to this kind of entry.
I looked down, and kissed him. He had put me in the position of control and I felt dominant, and striking. A first. I leaned in a little more. I felt the amazing tight ring of his anus give way, snap open and I sunk in, slow and deep.
“Oh shit shit … Yesssss” was all he could muster. Once inside I leaned in and he released his knees letting my shoulders hold them in place. His hand pinched my nipple as I started my slow and steady in … and … out.
I am not sure how long it took, a minute or an hour. Time was suspended and we were lost in each other. I felt every hair on my body, every nerve ending was alive and humming with desire. My balls stirred, his fingers pinched my nipples harder and harder in a silent crescendo. I knew he was close. I was beyond the point of release. I felt the jism mount the entire length of my member and explode inside the condom buried deep in his tight ass. My coming and the scream of pleasure that came with it pushed him over the edge as my final erratic pumps sent him off as well, squirting his hot juice all over the both of us.
I trembled on my arms, suddenly unable to hold myself up….
She collapsed on top of me, gasping for air, her body limp and hot and sweaty, her breasts pressed up against my chest, my cum squooshing stickily between us.
We kissed a little bit, in a tired, affectionate way. There was no discussion: it was already decided- she was going to spend the night in my bed. It just felt right.
A little while later, we woke up enough to dispose of the condoms and to pull a blanket over ourselves. We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
At some point in the night, we both woke up again. I was hard once more; she was hard and wet. I went down on her. I held the head of her cock in my mouth and licked it like a popsicle while I fingered her pussy and her asshole until she came. Funny thing, I’ve tasted my own come before and I’m not crazy about it; but the hot, salty, bitter, slippery stuff that she squirted into my mouth was like nectar to me, and I devoured it hungrily, taking every last drop.
She returned the favor, enveloping my penis with her mouth while she fucked my ass deeply with the Nexus Excel, making me howl and moan until I came, my penis captured between her full red lips. Then we fell asleep again, limbs intertwined, bodies pressed wetly against each other, and neither of us stirred until sunrise.
I woke up early, as was my habit. As soon as the pale sunlight streamed through the narrow slit of my bedroom window, I was irrevocably awake. She was still asleep, beautiful and vulnerable and nude, snoring softly next to me. I extracted myself from her arms.
I got a pot of coffee brewing, and set to finishing up neighbor Claudia’s VCR. The capstan bearings were shot. That was an easy fix; getting hold of new bearings was the hard part. I had tried ordering them from a factory in mainland China, but it ended up being easier to mill new ones on my mini lathe.
Just as I was putting the last screws back into the cover plate, there was a soft tap at the front door. I pulled on yesterday’s jeans and answered the knock.
It was Claudia, of course, and she insinuated herself right in before I could make any excuses.
“I’m not coming by too early am I? Oh, awesome, you fixed my VCR! You’re amazing! I don’t know how I can thank you… Listen, I’ve got something else that is broken, I wanted to see if you could fix it.”
She held out a blue dildo, one of those rabbit things that vibrates and rotates and has its own separate clit tickler. “This stopped working on me last night, I wondered if there’s anything you could do…?”
Most likely the motor had burned out, and would need replacing. Either that or a broken solder connection. Either way, a reasonably easy fix.
As I stood there in the kitchen, contemplating the blue sex toy in my hand, Claudia said, “Oh excuse me! I didn’t realize you had company!”
Fuck. The best sex I had ever had in my life, the first woman I had connected with in a long long long time, the first woman I’d ever met who accepted me without question, this beautiful woman who I might very well be falling for, had just emerged from my bedroom wearing one of my t-shirts and (I was fairly sure) nothing else.
The look of shock and startled annoyance on her face slowly changed into a look of surprise and pleasure. “Claudia!?! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since college!”
“I live across the hall… what are YOU doing here?”
We all stared at each other for about seven seconds. Then all three of us burst out in raucous laughter.
They had met at the end of the season. He had seemed like some great austere saint and so dull. But after sharing a few dances and having had the pleasure of sitting next to him during the horse races, she had found that he was far from noble and was indeed quite clever.
He amused her. His humor was razor sharp, his intellect far superior to anyone she had ever met. He unsettled her, and intrigued her. What hovered on the raw edge just below the surface was a dark, smoldering, sleeping volcano. A bath of lava she wanted to submerge herself in and emerge from like a phoenix.
She was fascinated by him, and his deviant mind and felt in her gut she should be afraid. But all she wanted to do was kneel at his feet. It made her despise herself. She was no Victorian twit! This was 1910 and she refused to emulate her mother.
She hadn’t acknowledged her inner desires until meeting him. She had been focused on her social status, and with her parents, had been slowly considering her marriage options for climbing up the ranks. He had been one such option, that she had stubbornly refused based on her first impression.
There was this internal fight that she was faced with ever since she had hit puberty. There were so many things that a proper English Lady did not do or even admit to. Upon meeting him again over dinner, she had given up that fight. She found herself flowing into him.
As she went to her dresser and chose yet another string of pearls to add to the collection already weighing down the high collar of lace, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair up, with some curls escaping haphazardly to frame her fine boned face, she was annoyed to see her cheeks so flushed. Her eyes dark black pools of lust stared back at her.
He did that to her.
They were meeting at the Opera tonight, and she hoped her parents had not been fools in letting her go escorted by no more than the old maid that often served breakfast in their home.
He waited for her at the loge.
Unlike most suitors who went out of their way to dote on her, collecting her at her home, asking her what she would like to do and such; he always made her come to him and told her what the plans for the evening were. Part of his arrogance in these things irritated her, part of it left her breathless. She already had so many things to think about, in running a home, organizing sweaty shop girls in her social work and everything that went with her station, that not having to think for herself actually came as a reprieve. Upon arrival at the loge he showed himself the perfect Gentleman, giving her prime seating and flattering her. The old maid sat in the second row, little beady eyes well aware of the electricity between them.
He leaned in, under guise of giving her the details of the story line. His warmth made her entire body shiver. He said nothing, just breathed on her exposed shoulders and neck as she was forced for social dignity to remain perfectly still, and calm. She dropped her Opera glasses in her lap, he picked them up, applying pressure to her sex. She almost fainted as the rush of blood flooded her clit and vulva and her corset strangled her breath. She felt her nipples harden under her lace bodice and ached for his touch.
She looked at him then, certain her eyes betrayed her desire. He sneered and pulled away. Her cheeks bloomed red and she was grateful for the blanket of darkness that fell.
Soon the curtains opened and Elektra began. Based on the Greek tragedy of the same name, the opera by Richard Strauss let unfold before her the horror and gloom of revenge, the sole theme. Every note, every scene dragging at her heart bringing her deeper and deeper into the despair that led to murder, and in the last scenes Elektra, in an ecstatic dance of triumph, falling dead in front of her horror-stricken attendants.
Discussing with delicate delight her impressions of the Opera with him, he walked her and her chaperon to his Silver Ghost. The maid stalled. There was no convincing the woman to enter the motor car. No matter what was said she simply would not. Seemingly chivalrous, he hailed down a horse and carriage and sent her on her way, soothing her with kind words. The poor woman was so frazzled she did not seem to notice that in the process, she had abandoned her charge.
Unfolding quietly her sheer, gauzy scarf to wrap around the edges of her massively brimmed hat, tying it securely under her chin, she accepted moments later his hand as she stepped into the vehicle. As he settled next to her and the motor crackled and boomed to life she breathed with enchantment her enthusiasm at the sense of freedom and speed that came from the promised road ahead. She wished bitterly she could loosen her corset.
The silence between them was pleasant. There was little point in trying to speak over the engine noise. She closed her eyes. Let herself feel his presence next to her. She knew the city would gossip at this the next day, but for now she simply enjoyed the fleeting sense of rebellion that sent the butterflies in her stomach a flutter. Then, they stopped short as the car suddenly halted. She opened her eyes and realized she didn’t know where she was.
She was alone with him on a country road along the ocean. Miles from anywhere and anyone. How had this happened? She smiled at him nervously and realized then that she was his pray. But instead of feeling fear, she felt total peace envelope her like a guardian.
He stepped out of the car.
He motion with a sharp gesture that she should join him. She removed very carefully the hat, gloves and scarf and left them in the back seat. Fumbling a moment with the door, she attempted to exit the car as elegantly as possible without falling. She nearly did but caught herself. He waited patiently a few steps away.
The trees hid them from public view. The Ocean waves crashed angrily in a pre-storm hissy fit along the coast far far below the cliff he had chosen.
“You will marry me” he said. There was no reply. He turned slowly raising an eyebrow at her. He was calm but imposing.
“Yes” she responded.
Without hesitation she did. Not caring that the fine Belgian lace of her gown would need delicate cleaning to return them to their desired bright white.
“You are mine – you understand? Do not speak just nod yes or no”.
She nodded in the affirmative.
“You are an intriguing woman, I will give you that. I never thought I’d find a one worthy of my attention. You haven’t disappointed me… yet. Surprising considering your young years”
She remained silent basking in his praise as he walked up to her, and removed her jewels. She already felt naked without her hat and gloves. His fingers on her neck made her forget to breathe. His gesture was rough yet, never did he pull her hair or actually cause pain. She trembled from cold and from something she could not name.
She almost screamed when she felt his fingers on the buttons of her bodice. She almost ran when he caressed her shoulders with his lips, She moaned deeply when he unlaced her corset exposing her bare back to the elements. Revealing her to the outdoors as she never had been.
“Breathe” he ordered almost lovingly. She did – deeply. She sensed his anger at the corset for containing her so. She smiled. There was something tender there.
“Do you wish me to stop?” She remained silent. “You may answer” he added. Quivering she whispered barely audibly.
He grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to the car. With the scarf previously abandoned in the back seat he tied her to the cross bar holding the canvas roof. Alarm now rushed through her. A sense of controlled terror took over. He smiled then. He wanted her, and she knew then that she desperately needed him to.
Her hands tied, facing the car, standing there, he pulled her head back towards him. His other hand cupped her breast and exposed it to the cold and he pinched her nipple hard. She had never been touched by a man. She had barely ever touched herself. Her body responded with emotions and desires she was wholly unprepared to deal with.
She screamed. He let go of her hair, and kneeled at her feet waiting for her scream to die. Then, as she trembled and shook, he let his hands climb up, her petticoats. She sobbed and screamed again. On the fine line between outrage and craving.
She had never known such intimate contact, she had never expected it to be so intensely arousing. She had on no account expected him to be so… tender. What were these feelings she felt. Her screams tangled in her throat with moans as his fingers pressed her nether regions. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton between his digits and her cunt. She hung her head in embarrassment as she felt the moisture soak into the fabric.
Slowly, he pressed, small circles and delicious pressure made her knees weak, Her breath caught in her throat now, her groans grew louder. She felt a sensation she had never know, a flooding of warmth and pleasure. She found herself pressing into him, whispering his name. Her head fell back of its own accord as her first orgasm shook her body. She collapsed, with only his strength and the ropes holding her up.
He untied her then, and kissed her, proudly, fiercely. Taking her hand he placed it on his hard cock. She felt it, curious and a little alarmed. The heat and hardness obvious even through his trousers.
“Good – as much as my social standing requires me to have a Lady for a wife, I will not, like so many fools, have you simply tolerate my touch for procreation. I do not wish to support a mistress. You shall be both. In public you will show all the grace and elegance of a woman of your standing. Of that you are most capable. I needed to know if you were able to let go of those social bindings in private. I will not marry a woman unable to let go sufficiently to feel pleasure.” She barely heard him. She sat in the passenger seat of the car, flushed and glowing with this new delight.
Next week, we will begin your sexual education. The basics, fellatio and such, both receiving and giving pleasure. Your education, will culminate with your deflowering on our wedding night. Something I am looking forward to immensely. By then, your fears of that act will have been replaced by excitement” he said.
What he did not see, was the moonlit smile that curved her delicate lips. She had judged him correctly and bagged her man.
There were some things an English Lady never admitted. He had ensured she never had to.
© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009/2010. 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.
Here is the thing. I have always liked to read a review for a product before purchase, but I must admit, sex toy reviews are rather predictable and boring (sorry!). Then my amazingly talented and fun fellow blogger Lexi sent me the name of a toy supplier looking for folks to review their products for free. The stars were aligned! So what to do? Do things the Fantasia way of course! The idea for the “Toy Chest Series” was born.
The stories are my take on product review. They are anecdotal re-tellings of how things unfolded. As per usual, some fiction is tossed in for good measure. The likes and dislikes will always be incorporated into the tale as well as an image of the product and where it was or can be purchased should you want to try it for yourself. The stories will sometimes be funny, and sometimes just plain hot.
Some of these toys I already own (wait for the We Vibe II!!) others are new (like this one). Please let me know what you think of this approach and if it‘s a project worth continuing!
Pillow Talk Press presents:
“Size Matters?” a Toy Chest Series tale
Walking to the post office armed with the mail delivery slip, she hoped The Adult Toy Shoppe had been honest when they said the package would be discreet. Trying not to blush ahead of time she handed the geeky teenage employee the little paper and waited.
The first surprise was the size of the box. For a moment she looked at her lover.
“Maybe it’s not what we thought Love ….” she signed for the package and while she was there took advantage and mailed off her tax returns.
He held the box reading the labels.
“It says bathroom accessories on the content list – you order something like that?”
She shook her head in the negative and as they left the office he ripped into the top of the box. She heard him whistle.
“What?” she asked.
All he did in response was let her peak inside for her second surprise.
“Holly fuck …” was all she could say.
“I think I am a tad intimidated at this point” he said laughing his big kid laugh before putting the box in the back seat of the car.
Originally the idea of getting the double sided 18” long and flexible dildo was to be able to have it inside her – and him – at the same time so they could fuck each other in mutual penetration. It seemed at this point that there had been a small miscalculation. Obviously she hadn’t looked at the pictures on the site properly to gage the enormity of “it“.
They drove around for the rest of the afternoon doing errands. Every now and then she’d open the box and take a look. “It” was huge. There really was no other way of putting it. Her Lover was grinning, and uncomfortable all at once. She had to admit to herself she felt the same way. She was a little excited and absolutely terrified at the damage the thing might be capable of.
“You are going to need some serious lube Hon” he kept repeating at seemingly random moments. Yes … yes she was.
Once home, they opened the clear plastic surround. The most annoying scent of rubber or plastic with what might be a hint of strawberries filled the room.
“Uh …yuck… you better wash that!”
Off he went. In the meantime, she got undressed and climbed into bed. She couldn’t even bring herself to masturbate – she lay there waiting for “it” to return. In a way they were almost clinical in the approach, that made her chuckle – she could visualize a bunch of scientists in their white coats scratching their heads.
“How do we insert that thing inside without ripping everything?” She burst out laughing.
Her nerves were shaky it would seem. Her mind went from one thing to another and she found herself reminded of a time long ago when she had a one night stand with a man “hung” the same way. It had been a disappointing evening with him counting on his length and girth to do the job. It had left her sore and unsatisfied. She was suddenly filled with trepidation.
Her lover came back into the room, his half smile just that – a half smile. Why men felt that way when confronted with something – or someone – larger she could not understand. There was no way the cold toy could hold her, love her and be warm and “just so” the way he could. This was a toy, an extension of him – not competition. She hoped he’d see that – and soon.
Without much foreplay, the liquid silk was pulled out and liberally applied to toy and twat. Her fingers found her clit and on her back, legs up, ass up, she presented her delicate flower to him. He grinned now. He was convinced it would not fit, even after she told him that was nonsense that women’s cunts were designed to expand.
Sure enough, the damn thing slid right in. His eyes grew bigger.
“Ok .. That’s … woa … babe – that’s hot.” The site of her pussy stretching to accommodate the 1 ½ inches diameter was a thrill, he found himself getting erect. She watched him grin, and had to admit… the damn thing still smelled but it felt good. She could feel all the “ribbed for her pleasure” bumps and veins. She was aware of her cunt clasping down on it. It was tight, it filled her up.
“Hold on” she said and leaving it in, she flipped over. In what they called “downward dog” a sort of doggy style but with her face buried in the mattress or pillow, her hand snaked under where she let her fingers work her clit into a frenzy.
Her lover looked at the site before him.
Her round firm ass, her tender lips stretched to the max, and this long snaking pink dildo like an extra appendage just hanging there. He grabbed it. The extra length was indeed handy. Most dildo’s and vibrators are to short to really go to town, but this thing had room to spare. He wrapped both hands around it and leaving 8” inside of her he started a gentle come and go, bringing it almost out, then sliding it back in. He went on and on relentlessly.
“It’s cold … not like you” she moaned into the pillow. He pulled it out and, let himself slide in. He was surprised to find that it was still nice and tight, her cunt clasping at his dick in a most pleasing manner. She moaned in pleasure, but he pulled out and put the toy back in.
Her face in the soft cotton, she focused on the sensation of pleasure mounting inside of her. She could feel it – the orgasm was almost there, but he would change the rhythm ever so slightly and her release would hover just out of reach. More lube was applied and the back and forth went on, he worked her like a pro – wielding this saber like the best of Jedi’s.
It hit her hard. The moan so loud every other unit on their floor must of heard her come. He pushed it all the way in and let her muscles spasm all over it.
She collapsed to the bed.
“woa ….” was all she muttered.
He was hard and in need, she let him slide in and he felt good. His arms around her, the scruffiness of his unshaven face, the smell of his body next to hers. She felt loved, cherished as his breath caught. But he struggled to achieve orgasm. She wasn’t sure if it was the presence of “it” in the room or the fact that he’d already come twice earlier that day.
He flopped onto his back and she kissed him sweetly. She rose as she saw his hand reach for his dick. He started to masturbate in his most aggressive way. He was going to orgasm if he had to beat his cock into submission to do so. Lifting herself up she straddled then sat on his face.
He smelled her cunt, the smell of rubber or silicon or whatever “it” was made of. He tasted her but could not breath. Her open pussy engulfed his mouth and nose and she wasn’t moving. He could feel his lungs constricting, begging for air, his toes curled and just as he thought he might pass out his jism erupted out of him. At that moment she lifted herself off.
His orgasm was delicious as the air entered his lungs. He shivered, moaned and was spent.
She cleaned him up, and took the toy to the bathroom to wash it and let it soak then returned to her lovers side, curled up and the two dosed off in satisfied slumber.
© 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.
He sat back in his chair, took a deep lazy drag of his cigar, tilted his head and let out a thick stream of dense smoke. Staring kindly at the individual sitting across from him, he marvelled at how odd life could be and at the twists and turns along the way. His past had already been peppered with particularly unusual moments. This was one of those moments. He focused on the young man’s words.
“Good luck with her” a tone of bitterness slipping into his youthful voice.
“Luck?” he asked taking another drag and sitting back.
“She’s had two husbands to date – what makes you think you’ll fair better than us?”
“Ah” he nodded.
“Ah? I’d think you arrogant if I had a mind to” the young man replied, a nervous laugh betraying his calm demeanour.
“There is one fundamental difference between us you know” This time he picked up his drink, stared a long time at the amber color before taking a sip.
“Oh really? Care to share?” the young man said with a touch of cynicism.
“Certainly. We make different assumptions.” Setting the tumbler down carefully on the glass patio table he closed his eyes enjoying the warm sun on his face.
“You know what they say about assumptions ….” The young man replied waving his hand in dismissal.
“You assumed she’d stay no matter what”.
“We were married man – was that wrong?”
“Jesus! And you don’t? That’s a tad masochistic isn’t it?”
“I have the bite marks to prove it. But back to the point … It’s not that I think she’ll leave me”
“Oh? Now I’m confused”
“You assumed she’d stay – I assume she’s bored”.
Silence lingered between them with the cigar smoke and smell of whiskey a strong contrast to the heady scent of Lilac in the air.
“Huh” the young man nodded.
He never thought he’d be sitting there sharing a glass of whiskey with her husband – a whiskey brought back from a trip the two of them had enjoyed together in Scotland, sitting in the yard of the house they had called home for over 9 years and more unbelievably, smoking a cigar that this young man had brought back from his last trip to Cuba – for him – the new man in his wife’s life. He had been surprised at the maturity in that gesture. The fellow was 14 years younger and yet had displayed in that instant more spine and understanding then most men twice his age. He had been impressed and gone from not understanding what she had seen in him to deep respect. Something had changed; a tiny door of acceptance had opened and now they both danced around it carefully trying to find out what this meant for either of them.
He had been astonished at how little they had in common. How could one woman love two such utterly opposite men? This young man, apart from playing volleyball, was more into spectator sports – watching hockey, football, formula one and all sorts of TV on top of that, he ate fast food without question, was naturally slim and was younger than her by two years. In contrast he himself was more into actively “doing” the sports, going to the gym, rock climbing, scuba diving and soccer, didn’t even have cable and was what some would consider a health nut where food was concerned. He worked hard at keeping his body fit and was 12 years older than she. Those were just the obvious things seen at the surface. The more you dug the more you could see the differences. They both had thick hair and strong facial lines – other than that … the only thing they had in common – was her.
As if summoned by his thoughts she appeared form the kitchen with an empty tray and walked over. Her hair recently cut short still surprised him, and he read the same thought on her husbands face. She’d had it long for nearly 20 years. She nervously shifted from one foot to the other – clearing the empty glasses off the table, unintentionally letting the sun backlight her and showing off her long legs under her cotton summer dress. The young mans gaze looked straight into his own. Unintentionally? They both grinned and chuckled … no perhaps not.
Her time had come to leave the house, collecting the last little bits that were her own; she came back from dropping a small bag of things in the trunk of the car parked on the interlock driveway she had installed herself, so many years ago. The house having sold at last she collected the last of her things. Her husband was taking the week to sort himself out before the new owners moved in.
Walking to the car, he sat in the driver’s seat and watched her from a distance. The front door was open and he saw her hand sliding lovingly along the solid oak banister, her eyes filling up with tears in a final farewell to a house she had renovated lovingly for over 10 years. She had put her soul into the place and letting go had been tough. She stood on the front porch – and looking her husband in the eye she simply said “I am sorry”. He shrugged. An awkward moment followed and then he grabbed her, held her tight, hugged her. They cried a moment and then he let her go. Walking ahead of her to the car he popped his head in the open passenger window.
“Take care of her you hear me?”
“I am dead serious man – you hurt her ….”
“She’s more likely to hurt me …”
He started laughing and stepped away opening the door for her. The door slammed shut. This was it. It really was over and they both knew it. Divorce papers would follow in time. It was now up to them to decide if they wanted to remain friends or just let the other disappear and become a pleasant memory of their past. Observing the young man he barely knew, he sincerely hoped they’d remain friends.
Driving along the back roads, he looked at her from time to time. She was uncharacteristically silent. He wasn’t certain if she was sad or what emotion was flowing through her. She neither laughed nor cried. That worried him. She was the type to wear her feelings on her face. But he remained quiet. He was there if she needed him. Her hand slide onto his thigh and squeezed it as if she’d read his mind. He looked at her again, and saw the faintest of smiles.
He spontaneously decided to take them for a country drive and for an hour he let the road take them where it would. She remained quiet just looking out the window. Spring was nearly over; the ground littered with the carpet of petals from fruit trees and the blush of early spring green being replaced by the darker hues of summer. They past a lake sparkling like a diamond in the sun with its surface shimmering and nearly blinding him. The deep, dark indigo water still looked frigid as a lone canoe punctured the tableau with its fresh vibrant red markings. He looped the car around and found a spot to park. Opening the windows, they looked at nature’s masterpiece in silence breathing in the fragrant breeze.
Her hand then wondered a little. His cock shifted slightly. He tried not to let it rise. But it did. It wasn’t appropriate but ….
Suddenly she was practically in his lap. Her lips on his, her hands pulling at his clothing and he was so startled he couldn’t respond. She pressed on, holding his hand to her breast. She let out a deep sigh when his fingers dug deeply into the soft pillows. Feeling like a teenager at a make-out point, he threw himself into the same spring fevered frenzy she was displaying. Clothing came off haphazardly, gear shift dug in all the wrong places but somehow, they found a way and she straddled him in the front seat and let him slide deeply into her crying cunt. The pressing need, hurried hunger and speed did not relent. The push for orgasm, the drive to feel alive, all continued in wild abandon as each reached higher and higher towards that one moment when – at last – she screamed her pain, her agony, her sense of loss and cried with tears of joy at the new beginning erupting within her, within her life, within her soul.
Panting, they sat there letting their heart beats slow and the sweat cool. He kissed her on the forehead and gently pulled an errand curl from her forehead. Cupping her face in both his hands, he kissed her lightly – then deeply. Not letting her go he asked gently…
“You alright now?”
She kissed him back, a wide smile on her lips and nodded before snuggling into his neck to her favourite “sweet” spot. He held her and grinned to himself. Never a dull moment.
A new year starts for Pillow Talk Press and with it two new projects. One project is called “Toy Chest” and you will just have to wait a little longer for that reveal.
But my dearest friends, I am thrilled and pleased beyond belief to share with you the first entry of this wonderful collection of stories – inspired by the joys of blind collaboration – called “Alliance Series”.
These stories go back and forth without discussion or planning leaving the plot to develop in rather surprising ways.
The ever talented blogger and erotic writer Smokedawg agreed to be the first and I must admit the thrill of this story was enormous. To work with such talent, to not know where the story was going to go – not to mention the fun of trying to outmaneuver and surprise the other … made this more fun than I ever anticipated. More important, the quality of this story is such that I am beyond proud to share it with you.
Enjoy it, and see if you can see where my entries began and where smokedawg took over etc. I believe our styles flowed and merged most perfectly.
As such … please … without further delay:
Pillow Talk Press Presents – an Alliance Series Tale
Ball In Your Court
By Fantasia Lillith and Smokedawg
She bent over, giving him a wonderful view of her tight muscles and infinitely long legs. She grinned into her own cleavage, taking her time picking up the ball, knowing full well his eyes would be going where his hands so urgently desired to caress. She had only taken up tennis because she found the outfits cute; the fact that she had a wicked and terrifying back hand was just one of those accidental talents she added to her repertoire.
The fabric fluttered in the breeze and just as it threatened to reveal more than a glimpse of her glorious ass – she stood and shouted: “2 Love”
“She’s playing to win the game,” he thought. “There isn’t any doubt of that. But what else is she playing at now?”
He’d started encouraging her to join him for tennis nearly eight months ago. His own game had never been anything more than a casual thing; a way to get in some exercise and fresh air. She’d had some reluctance at first, but she knew the value of getting in tighter with him socially; as he knew the value of getting to know her better, too.
Both of them had the ear of the company president, but in different ways. They could be competitors, or allies. He preferred the latter, and suspected she would too.
And damn, she looked nice in tennis clothes. Any kind, but especially the ones with skirts, that showed off those glorious legs. Calves taut and smooth, rising up to thighs that had a panther-like quality, controlled power that could grip a man between them in passion, or hurt him if he earned punishment.
He shook his head fiercely at that thought, then realized it was just the thought she wanted to put in his head. Why else bend over so slowly for the ball, with her feline grace, one hip thrust out impertinently in his direction; one sleek muscled thigh fully exposed.
And the way she had held it, when she began to stand. Not just the fact that she held it so near the tempting cleft between her breasts, glistening with a sheen of sweat in this, their final game of their set. Not just the fact that her eyes flickered down to the ball with a possessive glint, even as her mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile.
No, it was the way her fingers gently tickled and stroked the fuzz of the ball, like she might tease a man’s own testicles.
He felt his own pair tense and heat up, and felt a stirring that tennis shorts were not meant to hide.
And he was grateful that he wore an athletic cup to protect himself from her backhand, as it was the only thing that might camouflage his desire right now.
“I have him right where I want him,” she thought to herself, before stretching out in full length and letting out a powerful grunt followed by an unfortunately predictable serve. The ball came flying back almost out of reach – the bastard was going to make her run for it.
She knew he suspected her ulterior motives. That shake of the head, the uncomfortable shift back and forth to adjust in a socially acceptable manner his “boys.” The flush on his face, and sweat, were from more than just exertion. The glint in his eye and Cheshire cat grin told her that much.
She was playing him – but he was playing her too. She liked him. He was handsome enough, his body perhaps a little softer than she was usually attracted to – but his smile and charisma were magnetic. His mind was what made him so thrilling and for the first time she found herself faced with an intellectual and professional equal. He was well-bred, well-educated and wealthy. Old money to her nouveau-riche status; it drew her in and angered her at the same time.
It was intoxicating to be faced with a man that was neither threatened, nor intimidated, by her. He struck that casual balance of professional respect that had eluded her entire career. That alone had made her change her approach to him from the get go. It unsettled her in many ways. She wasn’t sure what the rules of engagement would be.
The big boss on the other hand, had been easy. He was fundamentally terrified of her – the way a man feels about his prize fighting dog. Kept at arm’s length, yet brought with him everywhere. Kept close to home and released when needed. However, this fine man, sending her volley after volley, was more like the friend that turned out to be a spy. Brilliant at making anyone feel like a long-lost relative and divulging all trade secrets before the first glass was empty. She envied him that skill.
It had almost worked on her. Almost.
She hated to sweat like this, but she hated loosing more. Holding the racket with both hands, she put all her strength into it as the ball came her way. “WHACK” it torpedoed over the net missing it by fractions of an inch and hit her opponent just to the right of his crotch.
A terrifying scream of agony preluded his tall and proud frame falling to the red clay surface. The small cloud of fine rust dust kept her from seeing much, but she knew something was wrong when the ball did not return.
She sauntered over to the other side of the court, standing above him she snickered as he held his upper right thigh and gasped at her for help, tears marking little paths on his dusty face. He was obviously unable to get up and finish the game.
“You forfeit?” she asked, not moving.
He spit out from between wheezes: “Yes … fuck … yes just … help me out here, you ruthless harridan!”
She reached down to give him the leverage to stand, and he grinned lopsidedly, unable to manage a full smile with the pain lancing through his leg. She smiled in return. He had a habit of lapsing into arcane terminology in jest, so he wasn’t angry at least. Not that she doubted her ability to quell his fire even if he had been.
“You know,” he added, hopping over to the fence to lean against it and massage some of the pain away, “if you wanted so badly to stand in front of those people from Brandeis Inc. alone and do the presentation, you could have just asked. No need to cripple me for the chance.”
“Well, I wanted to win the match, too, so two birds with one stone and all that,” she joked.
“Can’t dredge up any sympathy for me, eh?” he asked, taking a deep breath. “My mother warned me about you ‘new money’ types. Said I’d better watch my back. Never occurred to me to watch my front, too.”
“Cry me a river,” she answered with a chuckle. “Hand me your cell phone and I’ll dial your mom for you so she can kiss it and make it better.”
He paused for a moment, words catching in his throat as he caught her eyes, and then he untangled his tongue, and said, eyes half-lidded as he did, “I suppose I’d rather that the perpetrator did the kissing.”
“Fuck … ok … I deserved that…” She blushed a moment yet glowered at the same time. Her eyebrow raised over her right eye in a most stunning arc, she licked her lips in a nervous tell-tale motion that was one of the few to be sensual without her knowing, before her proud persona came back to the surface like the faithful mask it was.
Shit shit shit … he really did like keeping her off kilter. In frustration she punched his shoulder hard sending him mercilessly right back into the fence. She leaned into him then, her breath right up against his full mouth, her heaving breasts against his chest, her hand reached down and cupping his boys she tapped gently the sports cup before pulling away and shouting over her shoulder:
“Suck it up Princess! See you bright and early…”
* * *
With her head high, full of confidence she didn’t feel, she walked away slowly until the doors shut behind her and her swaying ass. She made it to the locker room, undressed slowly lost in thought. In the shower she stood a long time under the endless supply of hot water, a luxury she never got tired of after growing up in a household of eight foster kids with only two bathrooms and one hot water tank. To think she’d been one of the lucky ones.
Her mind was in turmoil. Why did she feel this way around him? Why did she always want to throw herself at him as much as shred him to pieces? Why did she always feel the need to prove her worth to him? To show him how tough she could be? What were these bizarre range of emotions? She shivered under the boiling hot water … he even made her forget proper etiquette. Around him her potty mouth would often come out with a vengeance as if to prove to her that you could take the girl out of the lower classes but…
She started to cry … then giggled … then startled all the other women by laughing loudly and shouting:
“Anyone know what ‘harridan’ means?”
* * *
He sighed when she was halfway to the locker room, half at the sight of her sumptuous ass and half because he felt like an idiot.
What did I expect? That she was going to get down in front of me and kiss me between the thighs?
He closed his eyes and remembered the closeness of her lips, the smell of her breath. After that much tennis, it hadn’t been mint-fresh breath, but neither was it raw. Instead, he thought, it was earthy. Alive. Warm and begging to be sucked into his lungs with a kiss to those lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow curve. He remember the glistening hint of wetness from the fleeting passage of her tongue across them; licked his own at the thought.
He put some weight on his leg, winced only a bit, and started to walk it off. He wished he could kick that tender spot of his himself for having driven her away. How many times had he made her blush when he wanted to make her smile … or, to make her … well, he didn’t know exactly.
“Fuck it, I do know,” he thought. “I know what I want but I shouldn’t be wishing for it. She’s tough enough not to need me. She can swear like a sailor, stride like a model, and speak like an orator. She doesn’t need a flat-assed guy with a belly that couldn’t hold a six-pack shape if his life depended on it. What I have is a trust fund, and she doesn’t need money.”
He showered quickly, dressed and retreated to the cleanest stall he could find to “knock one out.”
The memory of her breath. Her lips. Her breasts. Ass. Legs. Attitude. Voice.
The touch of her fingers, even if it was with a cup in the way.
His balls throbbed at the memory of a touch that wasn’t; still held jealousy for the tennis ball she had fondled instead of them.
“And so the fucking MVP of the business deal slowly jacks himself fantasizing about a woman he can’t have, in a bathroom stall,” he thought. “Right back to high school behavior, except the damned toilet stalls are cleaner. I really am the suave one, aren’t I?”
When he was done, he looked down at his ring finger, and the slight indentation and the paleness that wouldn’t quite go away, even though he’d officially chucked the wedding band nearly three months ago.
* * *
The next day dawned warm and muggy. She hated this type of weather. It always made her feel like she needed to shower again as her blouse stuck to her like some sleazy man at a bar. As soon as she arrived at the boardroom to prepare for the meeting with Brandeis Inc., way ahead of time as usual, she took her jacket off enjoying the air-conditioning and started reviewing the information that had been too sensitive to send ahead for some intern to put out on their massive conference table. She liked this quiet time. She liked meeting the receptionist and security staff, reminding her of her past, how far she had come on her own journey. She always made a point to be nice and encouraging if they seemed at all ambitious. She had mentored a few along the way. Some had been a waste of her time, others had been gems, giving her – in time – eyes and ears inside some of her competitors operations. She hadn’t done that on purpose – but loyalty was a strange beast.
She also knew how fast that could be her again. One bad move and she’d be tossed aside. She’d been told often enough that she was only “as good as her last deal” and she didn’t have a family to lean on if times got tough.
She felt lonely. She certainly had lovers, and many dear friends and rarely spent an evening alone, but the intimacy of a relationship was something that had eluded her. Now, as she entered her mid 30’s, she was bothered by it. It had never mattered, and she certainly wasn’t one to dream of romance or weddings or any of those, in her opinion archaic female goals … she didn’t want kids either … but now, she admitted, albeit begrudgingly and only to herself, that it would be nice to have someone. A pair of arms to hold her, a shoulder to lean on, to actually not be “the strong one” for herself from time to time. To let someone be there for her. Could she even do that? Was she capable?
A man that let her be who she really was … to feel safe and let her guard down.
God she was tired.
She sneered at herself … even that wasn’t a sure thing, and having seen couple after couple divorce or break-up; not a one standing the test of time, she wondered if it was worth the risk. She wondered if she should at least try … she wondered if it was too soon to … After all they had seemed the perfect couple and … She wondered if his thigh hurt when he woke up this morning. Was he going to have trouble getting here? She checked her iPhone quickly, but no message waited for her. Surely the pain couldn’t be that bad; although she was certain the bruise would be spectacular. Why had she done that? Why had she not kissed him? Why wasn’t she sure he wanted her to? Why did her body crave his touch?
Shit they worked together! This was so wrong.
Her eyes closed and she remembered the smell of him after the game, wondered if he’d smell the same after sex. Her inner thighs felt damp, her fingers twitched with a desire for release but she let out a deep, vulnerable sigh, instead thinking how she could use a Chai Latte and the sound of his usual, cheerful greeting. She turned around to put her jacket back on – to find him standing there watching her in the doorway.
“What you doing here so early?” She asked curtly, suddenly self conscious. She could smell his cologne, tasteful and not overpowering. Damn he looked good in that, no doubt expensive, suit. He seemed so sure of himself. So at ease in his own skin. A man use to being the center of attention and not having to fight for it.
“You don’t trust me to set up now…?” she challenged, walking towards him. She stood inches away replaying what had happened after the game the day before – her fingers lingering close to his crotch before moving to the side to his upper right thigh. With a feather light touch she pressed gently. “Does it hurt?”
“I only mope around about my pains when they’re inflicted by someone who only got in a lucky shot,” he answered, “and I only dwell on losses to unworthy opponents. Neither applies here.”
It was only by sheer force of will that he held his erection in check. The nearness of her fingers to the very place he longed to have her touch him was maddening, but also delicious. His cock stirred a little; how could it not? But he kept it from running rampant. Fingers so briefly touching him, and so lightly, and then sliding just a few centimeters across the fabric of his slacks before they withdrew. He could sense her fingers there still, hovering, but not touching.
There was a sulky look in her eyes, which somehow seemed more endearing than off-putting. She wondered why he was here; mistrusted the reasons. Her words hinted that she doubted his trust of her abilities. But at the same time, her body language told him she was glad for his presence. She was balanced on the razor’s edge between wariness and expectance. A ball was in play on the court, he realized, and the problem was whether to lunge for it or not. Was it destined to go out of bounds or not? Moreover, he wasn’t even sure whether she had just served and it was his turn to volley, or if she was waiting for him to serve.
He knew that humility, chivalry, restraint and other virtues were good ones. He’d been able to hold to them often enough and still be successful in business. But sometimes, they needed to be cast aside.
Or at least held slightly at bay.
He leaned forward. What he desired more than anything was to kiss those lips. Just the perfect amount of lipstick and gloss to highlight their beauty, and to inspire a man to let them mark him as her territory, but not enough to be lewd or crass. But that wasn’t something he could risk. Smudging her or marking himself with errant makeup, here where they worked and right before an important presentation. Too much risk for both of them.
But his lips brushed her cheek, and his cheek was just barely touching hers now, and his mouth hovered near her ear. He caught her scent, and recognized the hint of patchouli oil mixed with her subtle floral perfume. His wife had favored the scented oils, and guilt surged up. But he pushed it down. More than a year ago now … nearly half again that much … he couldn’t owe her memory his chastity forever. Lives end and lives move on.
She stiffened only slightly as his lips and cheek touched her, then relaxed. Her breathing deepened just slightly. But she was still coiled tightly, and he supposed he was, too.
“We have a lot of time before the presentation,” he whispered, “but not enough. Not for what I want to say. Not for what I hope I can do. Not for the answers we need from each other.”
“I don’t know if we want the same things,” she said, challenge in her voice, but also curiosity. And desire. “Or if we should.”
“I don’t either,” he said, and lightly kissed her just below and behind her earlobe, earning a tiny sigh as his tongue just barely tasted her skin. “And that’s why I’m taking you to dinner tonight, regardless of how this meeting with the people from Brandeis turns out.”
He pulled away from her neck, reluctantly and slowly, and looked her in the eyes. He hadn’t won her yet. Wasn’t sure he would later. Remained uncertain whether it would be the right choice for either of them. But too much caution could be as wicked and worthless a thing as making rash decisions was.
“We have enough time to go to Starbucks, or we have enough time to go to my office briefly … or yours,” he said. “And lock the door if we do.”
Her eyes widened just a bit. Her nostrils flared a mere hint.
“So I have to ask you,” he continued. “What do you need more to get you through this presentation and the rest of the day? A Chai Latte? Or my tongue between your un-bruised and perfect thighs?”
That was the one reply he had not been prepared for.
His handsome brow rose a moment as she leaned in, and under the pretense of fixing his collar she said, sounding far too casual, “Morning Sir! You are in early this morning. Everything alright?”
“The wife has been driving me to distraction – apparently I snore … loudly … and now I am relegated to the guest wing of the house! In MY house! The only up side is that I can come and go as I please and don’t have to spend my mornings with her incessant yammering. She’s a good woman but she does go on! The driver and I decided this a.m. that this new arrangement works best for all. HA! I will even let the dog sleep with me!!”
He moved his large frame to the head of the table and added “… I’m going to sit in on this one … No no no …. Don’t argue with me you two! I am not going to interfere. I just like watching my two best men … Ummmmm … Sorry dear …two best … Oh you know what I mean! I just like watching the two of you in action. Reminds me of my early days … And it’s the most fun I have since my wife forbade me from going to the races!”
He made himself comfortable, and a moment later the new and absolutely adorable intern walked in with a tray looking slightly miffed at being made a gofer, but tried to graciously serve the Big Boss his earl grey.
“You know…” He boomed from across the room “I really do prefer tea to coffee. Something about coffee seems so …” He looked up at a sudden loss for words. It was moments like this, when he looked so childlike, that many fools made the career limiting assumption that the Big Guy was a buffoon.
Putting on her jacket at last, she pulled her satin smooth hair into a quick and dirty bun and filled in the silence “Mundane?”
“Yes … That’s it!” He smiled as his large hand came down with a smack on the table where moments earlier she had imagined … “Mundane! That is the word.”
The intern left, but not before rolling her eyes discreetly to the two left standing.
“If the two of you will keep each other company, I have to grab Laurel for a moment,” he said, and moved smoothly in pursuit of the intern.
“No grabbing that will have attorneys fretting over harassment cases,” the Big Guy called after him jovially.
She kept the small talk going with their company president, while also keeping an eye on the man who had long been her foil and confidante and ally, but now was quickly becoming a desire and a distraction as well.
“A charming and pleasing distraction, at least,” she thought, and noticed he was handing his Starbucks card to the intern. She smiled at that, 90% certain that meant a Chai Latte would be on the way. It amazed her how the intern, so recently annoyed at their Big Boss – however well she had masked it from him – at playing the role of gofer, now smiled genuinely and rushed off for this man to do the same kind of fetching work.
“He charmed her in a few moments,” she thought, “and for good measure, probably told her to get whatever she wanted for herself while she was there.”
When he returned to the conference room, he waited for a lull in the conversation, and said, “So, sir, why are you here … really? I know you enjoy a good show, but the people from Brandeis will be dull. All their officers are. They’ll nod. They’ll ask questions. And after a couple hours, we’ll know from the expressions on their uniformly bland faces whether they’ll agree to partner with us, even though they’ll wait another week to tell us.”
“I want to see how they react to the two of you,” the Big Guy answered. “I want to see which of you the E.V.P.s and V.P.s like more. Before they end up under our …”
The Big Guy looked at her meaningfully.
“Wing?” she finished for him with a smirk.
“Yes … indeed. So much better sounding than thumb,” the president said.
They both nodded at their boss’ words. The Brandeis president was lucky and had a good team and a great product. But he had the business sense of a five-year-old on a sugar high. If the company agreed to partner with them, it would find itself dependent on them within six months, and then they would acquire it and merge it into their company within another six months. The Big Guy would use the acquisition as an opportunity to snatch up a few more companies and create a subsidiary company focused on informatics like he’d been threatening to do for a year now.
No sooner had they both finished processing those thoughts than their ultimate boss said, “And I’ll need someone to run it.”
Of course, they both thought. The Brandeis president would get the boot since he was useless, and the Big Guy would want someone he trusted and knew well to take over. They were in competition for a presidency of – if they did their jobs right today – a soon-to-be created and wholly-owned subsidiary of Adepticon Corp.
The Big Guy simply smiled at their mutual recognition of the stakes of this morning’s meeting.
* * *
They had mutually agreed two days ago to let him lead things off, and now she was kicking herself for that, because he could easily dominate the presentation. In fact, he won more than a few chuckles from the stone-faced Brandeis execs with a joke about his slight limp, blaming it on a competitor company that was too weak to challenge Adepticon for Brandeis’ attention, and had clearly decided to assassinate him instead.
But after that, he withdrew his charm.
Oh, not enough that anyone would notice. No one except her. He was selling their company fantastically, as was she, but he wasn’t selling himself. He wasn’t trying to charm the people in this room. The Big Guy wouldn’t notice, because in the end, he was paying attention to the people from Brandeis and how they were reacting. And as long as they made the company look good in this meeting, he wouldn’t notice anything else.
It was an uncharacteristic slip-up for him not to jump all over the chance to win over Brandeis and win the chance to run a new informatics company.
In the end, the meeting was flawless and the presentation perfect. When the Brandeis people had gone, the Big Guy announced that he was taking them all out for a couple drinks after work, since the deal was almost certainly a lock, and even Laurel the intern was in on the invitation, for flawless assists with the visuals, the AV equipment, and keeping the visitors properly hydrated.
When he and she were alone in the room, he inclined her head to her and said, “Match goes to the lady. Now let’s go look productive for the rest of the day and after drinks, I hope I can still take you to dinner.”
She was about to nod, when something in his eyes made her stop, and then she glowered. “You fuck!” she hissed quietly. “You threw your chance on purpose. You held back just enough so that I would be the charmer.”
He shrugged, but in that gesture, she could tell he was confirming her suspicions.
“I don’t need a mercy win tossed my way, you son of a bitch. After drinks, you can head straight home. And alone.”
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, in a tone of total confusion, but also just enough placation to catch her attention and make her hesitate before storming out of the room. “No mercy. No loss for me. Think it through before you try to cripple my other leg or something.”
“Think what through?”
“What have we both been jockeying for the past year or two? Bill’s corner office,” he said quietly, as he shut the conference room door most of the way. “That man’s going to implode under the weight of his coke habit in less than a year. We both know it.”
“So?” she asked, suspiciously.
“When he falls out of favor, you or I would likely be the candidates for going from vice president to an executive vice president title. One of us would get that E.V.P. spot. In the head office. Being president of a smallish subsidiary company would be equivalent prestige and pay. Difference is that we’d be in different buildings. And the person who stays here to be E.V.P. stands a decent chance to become president when the Big Guy retires in another five or 10 years.”
She scowled. “So, instead of throwing me a bone, you’ve outmaneuvered me.”
“Not really. The E.V.P.-to-president gambit is a gamble,” he answered. “This works out like I expect, we’ll be making about the same amount of money salary-wise, but the president of a new subsidiary stands to earn far better bonuses if she’s as successful as I expect her to be.”
* * *
Having drinks with the Big Guy was always just the slightest bit awkward, though pleasant enough overall. The intern seemed to be the most adrift, since she was a bit green, and unused to either being at the club or being out of the office in the presence of a man who could make or break her career.
Meanwhile, the two sometimes tennis partners eyed each other subtly and warily. Neither was certain where things were going, or whether they would continue on to a restaurant together, though both felt jitters. Nothing that would show to the Big Guy or the intern, but they had gotten too used to each other not to notice the tension that was brewing between them.
After an hour, the Big Guy left – probably to visit his mistress before heading home, they all assumed – and it was just one intern and two V.P.s getting ready to finish up their drinks, and consider whether to get one last round or not.
He took a small sip of the very old and very distinguished Scotch he was nursing, and sighed silently as he gave a casual smile to the intern on his right, and then glanced to his left, to the woman who was his peer and his tennis nemesis, wondering if she were pleased, offended or simply neutral now in the wake of their presentation this morning and his own machinations.
Then he jolted just a hair, as he felt, underneath the cover of the table, a warm, delicately long-fingered hand on his inner thigh rubbing the very sensitive spot of his bruise. The touch so ephemeral that it was akin to a thousand little fairy mouths kissing the fabric of his trousers as if trying to rip their way to his flesh. His balls stirred, his cock moved and she was playing him like a well trained cobra. His mouth went dry as he realized that he may well be utterly outmaneuvered in the bedroom if this was what she could do casually with her fingertips. His heart was beating so loudly he was certain everyone for miles could hear.
She wondered is she was having the desired effect on him. He seemed unmoved, just sipping his drink, eyes half closed. He had leaned into the table a little, that had been the only clue that he wasn’t indifferent. She had been completely surprised at how good and natural it felt to touch him so intimately. Her fingertips caressed the spot she knew was so sore and the rush of the gesture made her head spin. She felt it. She felt it move and stir like a slumbering beast and she felt the fabric of his pants stretch and then felt it try and rise up to greet her when her back-and-forth brought her closer to his crotch. She smiled and took the last sip of her champagne, her own excitement mounting.
A waiter came along to collect the empty glasses. “Put the rest of these on my tab will you?” She told the young man who blushed, nodded and padded away.
“Well I have had a long – if productive – day and my cat likely needs feeding as much as I do. If you’ll excuse me … I’ll be heading home.” On that last word she let her eyes linger on his, hoping he’d get the implied invitation. Knowing he’d be unable to stand just yet, and with a prayer to the Gods, she walked away. She could feel his eyes on her, feel them caress her body, she could almost feel his hands between her thighs and his lips on hers.
She drove home like the often mentioned bats out of hell, walked in, tossed the keys on the console, kicked off her high heels, and leaving the front door unlocked, went to her room, undressed and poured herself a bath.
Slipping into the hot water, glass of champagne in hand, she closed her eyes and waited. Her ears listening for a sound she prayed would manifest itself soon, preferably before she turned into a big raisin. She hoped he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She was done playing games. She wanted him. Wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life. It was more than desire. It was HIM … Not his body, not his mind, not his money or position or what he could bring to her or the doors he might open … No … Him. She liked his soul and his … He was her equal, he was worth it, he was … She sat up fast enough for water to spill out of the tub and unto the heated marble floors. Startled at her own thought she whispered breathlessly, “Fuck … I’m in love with him.”
* * *
As she left, he smiled and spoke his farewell to her own, pantomiming a tip of his nonexistent hat, he then he sipped a bit more at his drink, wondering if his inability to stand was as obvious to the waiter, and to intern Lauren, as he felt it must be. He was thankful for the relatively low lighting that he hoped was hiding the flush he knew must be in his cheeks and on his neck.
He managed to carry on with some light conversation as he watched her go. As he filled his vision with the sight of her retreating legs and ass. The graceful line of her neck, mostly hidden by her hair. The contours of her back, especially where it met with her pelvis. Swaying. Undulating, even. Catching his thoughts in a vortex of feelings both primal and spiritual; physical and emotional. He didn’t stare, but his eyes never left her until she was gone.
His stubborn erection kept him anchored to his seat, and he continued to converse with Lauren, happy to listen as she went off on a topic of her own. He was aware of her words, but only just enough to reply properly.
A confusing mix of emotions swirled inside him, everything from fear to elation. A brief time with her touch, and she had utterly owned him. At the same time, though, she had given herself to him as well.
“My cat likely needs feeding as much as I do,” she had said, and he knew full well she owned no cat. “I’ll be heading home,” she had added, and caught his eye meaningfully, in the same way she did just before serving the ball on the tennis court.
“I won’t be heading home,” he thought to himself as he responded to Lauren’s latest comment, and made a light joke. He wondered how long before thoughts of his fellow V.P. would dull enough – along with the memory of her touch – for his errant cock to be subdued, so he could say goodbye himself.
The immensity of it all was almost enough to make him forget about that other touches under the table. Almost.
“Now how the hell do I extract myself from this?” he thought.
* * *
While she remained in the tub, she’d mopped up the puddles on the floor of her bathroom, mostly at least, with a small towel just barely within reach, thinking to herself that this would be a horrible evening to step out and take an unfortunate slip. One of them with a nasty bruise was enough.
Where the hell is he?
Rationally, she knew it would take some time, but her thighs were fluttering. The heat suffusing her skin wasn’t just the intense warmth of the bath. The slick moisture between her thighs had little to do with the bath oils in the water. She was terrified on some levels that she was in love with him, but her body was at war with her absurdly rational thoughts, beating them back with soft warm waves of heat, reminding her that this was no time for over-thinking things.
Where are you? Dammit!
It was a sound she knew well, though always louder, since it was usually underneath her, and produced by her own footfall. This was someone else stepping through her door, and down the entrance hall. Over the hardwood flooring, bending and squealing oh so slightly under human weight.
Oh, I shall make you bend and squeal too. Oh, and I will bend and squeal too if you play me right.
The ajar door to her bathroom opened slowly, tentatively, and then he was inside, holding a bottle, and looking so uncommonly shy that she hardly recognized his face at first, and it made him even more endearing. A man who could negotiate the hell out the deal and defeat the trickiest bastards in the business world, and he was blushing.
“I stopped by a store on the way,” he said. “This bottle of merlot was begging me to introduce you to it. I thought I’d stop by and humor it.”
“Must have taken a long time to pick it out,” she said, leaning on the edge of the tub, her breasts hidden, but the roundness of her buttocks peeking just above the sudsy bubbles in her bath. “You know how to keep a lady waiting.”
“I wish the lady would have remembered that I’ve only dropped her off at her home once in all the time I’ve known her,” he said with a grin and a brief chuckle. “I had to stop by the office on the way over and rifle through your desk to find a piece of mail with your home address. I was a few seconds away from calling up Beth on her cell phone.”
She laughed at that. Beth was the head of human resources, and she wondered how the woman would have reacted to being asked by one V.P. for the home address of another V.P.
He walked over to the edge of the tub, and lowered himself to the floor. The air between them was charged, but instead of rushing the moment, they both hovered in that delicious tension, neither making a move. Both of them feigning such calm, knowing that the other person wasn’t fooled, and enjoying the tiny game.
“I also had that delay at the restaurant that was a bit tricky,” he added.
“Tricky? I hope it was appreciated and enjoyed too,” she whispered.
“It was. Very much. But that’s not the delay I was referring to,” he said. “Your hand wasn’t the only thing under the table. I got a nylon-clad set of toes brushing my ankle. From the other side.”
“Was the decision between the younger woman and me too hard for you?” she asked, letting a challenging tone enter her voice just a bit.
“It happened right as you were standing up, and I think she brushed me by accident as she was pulling her leg back,” he said, laughing.
It took her a few moments to realize what he meant, and then she blushed. “Oh. My. I’ve always thought she was adorable, but not like that. Not seriously, at least. I don’t think.”
“If it makes you feel better, she made a play for my ankle on purpose shortly thereafter, so I guess she swings both ways where V.P.s are concerned,” he said, and cupped her cheek and jaw in his palm. “I prefer an established woman to an unseasoned youth, though.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and for one of those few times in her life, she simply let another person lead. Take control. She let him kiss her. Not the other way around. Oh, she responded. But she let him set the pace and the tone. Firm but tender. Exploring but not invasive. She responded in kind, and how could she not? His lips were full and soft. Not soft in a weak way but soft like suede. Strong but yielding. Heady and sensual.
The kiss didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to. It was an introduction of sorts and an intense one. And as her fingers had coaxed him to firmness before, so did his lips make her nipples swell against the hard edge of the tub, and make her thighs quiver.
Their lips were so close now. No longer touching, but all the same, they were still kissing in a way. Connected even though their lips were no longer locked.
“You may not realize it, but I’m not very good at this,” he said, and laughed a little, nervously now. “Not the kissing. I have it on good authority I know my way around lips. I’m not … I haven’t done this in a long time … I haven’t done this since …”
She realized that he was crying. Not sobbing. Not weeping. But a tear rolled down one cheek.
“If it’s too…” she began quietly, cursing silently and wanting to scream.
“I want … I need …” he began. “You’re what I crave,” he said finally. “You’re…”
He kissed her again, then, as much to silence himself as to reassure her, and one hand gripped the back of her head now, as his kiss became something more insistent. As he melted into her even as she did into him. His other hand caressing her ribs now, and then down to her hip, heedless that the sleeve of his suit coat was in hot, soapy water now, and then his hand came back up to enfold her breast, and his thumb made slow circles of her nipple.
Her breath caught in her chest, frozen, a prisoner. She found herself afraid to move and break the spell she felt she was under. He leaned in and let his mouth, with its warmth, trace a slow path from her lips, to her chin, across her jaw line, down her neck … she had kept herself hidden under the water but now she let her head fall back, forcing him to let her go and revealing her breasts to him, the hard and erect nipples barely breaking the waters surface.
He stared a moment, in awe. He’d always found her beautiful, but as he looked at her now, her hair wet, her face without a trace of make-up, her supple body hot and yearning for him, him of all the men she could have, she was giving herself up … to him… her lips slightly parted and her eyes begging to take charge, he found himself torn between ravishing her and terrified of disappointing her.
He stood, trembling a little, put down the bottle of wine and removed his jacket, his shirt, his belt, his socks, his pants. He stood again, wondering if he should strip the last vestige of clothing or what would be the right thing to do at this junction.
“You joining me or not?” she asked. She had seen him hesitate and knew he felt uncomfortable just stripping like that. Yet, she had enjoyed it and liked what she had seen, his body was harder than she had thought, beautifully proportioned and well groomed. She leaned back and closed her eyes giving him a moment of privacy and enjoying the rush of knowing his naked body would soon be hers.
The water level rose as he eased himself into the large tub. She smiled and with her fingers, found the little nub and with a click and a hum followed by a chuckle on his part, the Jacuzzi bubbles and warm jets were brought to life.
“Thank you” he said simply. She scooched over to his side.
She leaned between his legs, nudging them apart as she placed herself face-to-face with him once more. She leaned in, and pressing her chest to his, letting her arms circle around his neck, she kissed him. She held back, not wanting to be predatory, but she struggled to maintain a sense of calm. She ached for him with such intense hunger it was painful.
His hands grabbed for her ass, he pulled her in closer and she felt his cock against her lower abs. They kissed, this time it was no introduction. The feeling of flesh against flesh was more than either one could manage and the ferocity of their desire burned harsh and bright. All pretense of romance was flung out the window and he grabbed her, possessively, pulling her into him, holding her hostage.
She gasped, barely able to breathe, he was crushing her but she wanted him to. “Own me – take me” she kept thinking over and over … begging him in her mind and heart to be the man she needed him to be tonight. She would take charge later but tonight she wanted to be desired beyond his control.
She bit him hard on the shoulder, he hissed at the feeling and grabbed her face with both his hands. Stopping the frenzy. He stared deeply into her eyes. They both were breathing heavily and in a deep voice she had never heard from him he said a single word.
She stood in all her naked glory, revealing her entire body to him at last. His hand fluttered a moment over her sex before consciously sweeping his hair off his forehead. She had never felt so beautiful in her adult life as she did that moment when his eyes grew larger and his breath drew a silent whistle. She stepped carefully out of the tub and walked into the bedroom grabbing the oversized towel along with her.
She tossed it on the bed, then simply lay down on her stomach.
He walked in, drying himself off in haste and stared.
She turned looking at him slightly over her shoulder and by the time he made it to the bed she had rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and wrapped them around his waist welcoming him to her in the most natural movement in the world.
Uncomplicated and without delay. He could feel the heat of her cunt against the head of his hard, ready-to-explode cock. He stared at her, overwhelmed by the feeling of intimacy and the connection between them, he moved in closer and the tip caressed her clit. She let out a moan of desire, lifted her pelvis just enough to position him perfectly and start the spreading of her vaginal lips around the welcomed intruder.
He was ready to plunge; loose himself in her, let his soul be washed clean by the torrents of pleasure she offered him so willingly. He wanted to die and be born again, deep in the warm embrace of her intimate self when her hand on his chest stopped him. Her cheeks flushed and with a slight tremble in her voice she said: “The point of no return … this will change everything … are you certain you want this?”
Many words leapt into his mind. But he closed them all off before they could reach his lips. He answered her silently, taking the wrist of her hand gently in his grip, removing that hand from his chest and kissing the softness of her wrist, pressing his warm lips to her hot pulse. And then with no words, he slid into her just a bit. Slowly. Only an inch at most, but he pressed pass the outer embrace of her, feeling that hint of resistance even as her slick desire welcomed him.
The point made, he looked at her. Met her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Many light comments emerged in his mind. Any of them could have been charming and made her laugh without breaking the mood. He could have said, “Let’s see how good my serve is” or “Match goes to the lady” or he could have used a pun and said, “How can I resist when the score is love on both sides?” He could have made a joke about “sealing the merger at long last.” He had the voice and charm to pull it off.
He could have said any of these things and likely not offended her.
Instead, he rotated his hips just a little, pressed the solidity of his manhood into her just a fraction more to gain her full attention – feeling a little thrill in his chest at her soft gasp – and then he said: “Nothing is certain. Except that I need you. Not just want. Need. I’d be a fool to pass you by and I’d be an idiot to think of you only for a brief thrill. And change …”
At that last word, he entered just a little more, his cock tingling and her pussy gripping him.
“Change is inevitable,” he continued. “Life is change. Adapt or die. And I’m not anywhere near ready to begin dying.”
Then there were no more words, as he slid fully inside her. No artificially shaved and pubically tailored woman here. A full bush, barely but neatly trimmed, to press against his own sex and eventually to hold the perfume of their lovemaking through the night. To give that rough caress to his skin even as her softer, wetter folds inside gave him more intimate attention.
His mouth against her neck, sucking for just a moment, then pausing in reluctance to mark her. Then remembering this was Friday night, and there would be no office until Monday, and then he kissed her throat, and ran his tongue firmly up and down her flesh, and then began to suck her neck, at first softly, then more insistently, as his hips dipped down and in and up, spiraling inward and then outward, just enough to give him room to press into her again. Neither too gentle nor too aggressive. He did his best to own her sex even as he gave her his own body.
He had been afraid that it had been too long. Too long with one woman. Too long away from sex. Too long in both regards to remember how to please a woman whose body he hadn’t been over every inch of for years.
He was wrong. He felt her shiver and she gripped his ass with her hands. When his lips and tongue strayed to her earlobe and the tender skin just behind it, her lips and teeth found his neck, and she marked him as surely as he had marked her.
The pleasure was rising, and it had been a long time since he had been inside a woman. Long enough that his impatient penis wanted release now. Hot, slippery, sticky pleasure was something more than a mere hand could offer, and it had been long indeed. He paused inside her, marshalling his will, refusing to move inside her. Her hips twisted just a bit, urging him slightly, and he pressed forward just enough to pin her a bit more firmly to the bed, to silently communicate her to still herself.
She sensed his hesitation, even if she couldn’t read his mind, and asked “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said softly and firmly, taking a break from kisses along her throat and ears. His left thumb continued circling her right nipple, though, and the fingers of his other hand stroked the firm roundness of her left hip. “Nothing is wrong except that sometimes, a soldier too long out of action needs to be reminded of discipline.”
“I’m not sure I want to wait. We have all night; we have all weekend,” she whispered into his ear, and let the tip of her tongue flick inside. “I don’t know if I care that he has discipline right now.”
“I care,” he said quietly into her neck, and his words were warm, heavy and thick. “Even if I don’t give the performance of my life, I’m not a boy. And you’re not a girl. I care to work harder than that for you.”
He began to move again inside her, just a little. Slowly and firmly. And then stopped again after a short while and let his erection simply fill her. Quiescent inside her in a way, but quietly insistent. He still filled her with heat and thickness and hardness. She still throbbed in moist, syrupy passion against his skin. Even when they didn’t move. He relished that time, to simply be in her.
Press and slide and stroke. And stop to taste her face and shoulder and neck. Gyrate and writhe and rock. Then pause to smell her hair and let her mark a new spot on his throat. Penetrate and retreat. Then grip each other’s asses and taste each other’s mouths in wordless, gasping passion.
Their skin, fresh from a bath, now glistened with musky sweat, sweet and refreshing in its own way. He continued at her for nearly half an hour, firmly and in brief bursts of passion, then slowing again, and picking up the pace again later as his cock calmed. Finally, she began to shake a little, and her breathing deepened and became huskier, and her fingers began to twitch even as they dug into his cheeks more firmly, and pulled him into her, refusing to release him this time.
“Oh … Je … sus … oh … fuck …” she moaned, and he simply groaned in response, unable to form words, focused on the moment.
He couldn’t escape her grip now if he wanted. Hands and legs held him tight to her, and she refused to let him go. He didn’t try to escape, but still, he kept his pace firm, slow, insistent. He milked her orgasm, dragged it out as long as he could. Made sure she was coming, well and truly, before he loosened his control, and began to pump her more vigorously. Fucked her hard and true, and she screamed something panting and primal, and he echoed her with more guttural groans, as she completed her orgasm and he began his. Her passion spilled around him and drowned him, as his own flooded and filled her.
They moaned and kissed, still locked together, for a long time, before she finally said, “I’m … I’m … home …” as silent tears flowed and she nuzzled into him. He held her until sleep took her away. He did not move, enjoying the feel of her against him, the soft rhythm of her breath. How was it that she suddenly seemed so fragile? She was precious indeed. He felt an overwhelming desire to never let her go.
“Welcome home Love,” he whispered into the top of her head, touched by the meaning of her words and smiled softly before joining her in dreams.
If you want to read the story with author commentary!