Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Rain Drop-let

droplet mindIt’s raining. It should be snowing but the temperatures are above seasonal this year. I sit in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace looking out the large bay window onto an empty street. Not a soul stirs, not even the usual stray cats. I’m reading, or trying to, but my attention wavers and I can’t concentrate on my book. It doesn’t have enough substance, the story line weak and the writing mediocre. I look out again, at the dismal landscape and I am overcome by this sense of loneliness.

I feel very much like the rain drop that somehow managed to circumvent the large front porch roof and hit the glass pane before my eyes. It’s so alone, streaking slowly down the dusty surface. Another drop hits the window its velocity far greater, b-lining for the first one still lazily, patiently making its way down. The two drops intersect and merge, suddenly there … for only a moment… they remain thus hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity. Then together they plummet, plunge and dive giddy in their union and disappear from my view.

I close my eyes, becoming that first droplet. I imagine the frightful fall from my familiar cloud. I imagine that strange gust of wind that changes my destination beyond my control. I imagine the pain as I smash into the bay window. I see myself slowly walking, stunned and lost down a dusty road. As I walk I feel my senses come back to me. I hear a bird sing in the distance, I notice the grass on the edge of the road is dry but still alive. I think back on my long journey and lost in thought I don’t see the path up ahead cutting mine horizontally; I don’t hear the sound of the oncoming car.

Suddenly wheels screech, an engine hums and dies and the smell of burning rubber fill’s my nose. My hand reaches out in an automatic reflex at the blinding glint of sun reflecting of metal. My fingers resting on the burning chrome grill, I steady myself. I hear a door open, I look up and there standing before me, is my hearts desire. A combination of worry and anger etched on his face. We stare. He stops in his tracks. His lips move as if trying to say something, his eyes searching mine and looking for some hidden memory in the vaults of his mind. Time stands still for an instant. Recognition or love entwined reunited through time.

No need for introductions we know who we are. He walks quickly towards me, wrapping his arms protectively around me, supportive. “Are you alright?” I nod. I am now.

Standing on my toes, raising my head to his I bring an arm around his neck and pull him down for our lips to meet. We kiss. Long and sweet an all-encompassing embrace that triggers memories lost of our past lives. Reluctant we part a moment. He looks at me as a smile slowly curls the edge of his mouth and he lifts me up, placing me on the hot hood of the car. 

Oblivious to the stinging of my skin from my nearly scalding perch,  forehead to forehead we take in the moment, our breaths caught in our lungs, we are barely able to breath. “I found you” he whispers… a sentence that barely makes sense. I press myself to him wanting to erase lifetimes without his presence from my lonely bones and heart.

His hands glide up my thigh, lingering a moment near my ass, fingers firmly pressing, digging in a little, getting a good grip. It feels so good. I kiss him again with more passion giving him the ok.

My skirt is short and flimsy, offering little in the way of resistance. My blouse low-cut with tiny buttons offering his right hand a challenge in dexterity. One pops open and the blouse falls off one shoulder and his fingers follow hungrily to the cleft between my breasts. He circumvents the small hurdle that is my “balcony” style bra and his hand dips into the cup and scoops my breast slowly, reverently. My leg’s part, allowing him into my personal space even more, he takes a small step forward in response to my invitation.

I feel light headed as our breath runs wild, our kissing eager. He moans deeply as my pelvic bone rubs and grinds into his jean protected crotch. I can feel his heat, his bulge, his desire. I moan myself as I feel the electric tingle intensify as I squeeze my inner walls aching for the fill of him. My clit is bulging outside the protective, defensive barricade of my lower lips, every movement, now, a caress as the fabric of my soaked undies rubs with the rocking back and forth of my hips. His hand finds its way to my cunt, expertly as if he’s known me for centuries and starts a slow and hard figure eight on my clit. My entire body trembles and I hear myself beg “more ….”.

He lowers himself then, his soft warm lips following the same trail his hands had blazed across my flesh. Wet tongue flicks and then follows suit and the small, hard, figure eight resumes against my clit but with the added intensity of the intimacy of oral sex and the heat of his breath. His finger slides inside and starts a gentle simultaneous come hither motion. My head falls back and I collapse on the hood of the car, giving up any pretence of composure.

My head is reeling as emotions and sensations course through and awaken my body. I slide of the edge of the car and find myself face to face with his crotch. He has managed to pull of his belt but that’s all. I undo the button; I carefully pull down the zipper. I pull on the pant leg and watch the white expanse of his underwear bulge in front of my eyes in a pleasing way as his jeans fall in a dark pool of denim around his ankles. I find the opening in his tighty whities and pull his shaft out. The sun is out, and I watch as a single drop of precum appears on the tip like a clear pearl, a rain drop.

I look up into his eyes and his gaze is filled with intense desire, passion and strangely, the knowledge of who we are beyond our names and current bodies. I close my eyes then, breath him in, the scent of him, luxuriate in his presence, in the display being presented on this dusty country road. My mouth opens, my tongue wets my lips … I open my mouth wider still, cradling his balls in one hand and pulling him in closer with the other hand behind a thigh, I plunge and take it all in.

His knees almost buckle. The waiting and anticipation is getting to him. The warmth, the moisture, the suction, the rhythm, the sight of me, my breasts sitting outside my bra, my skirt around my waist, my hand playing with the folds of my inner most self, the sun in my hair … release, pull back, release, pull back…. Drops of saliva slide down my chin and drip drop into the dry soil along with my moisture. The sandy dirt begging as loudly for the wetness as his hot cock is begging for release in my mouth. He tenses and I stop.

I stand and lay back on the car, pulling him towards me. His cock is poised at the right height as I lift one leg up and place it on his shoulder. My finger never leaving my clit, he has an open passage before him.

He groans as he fights to not come just from the sight. The heat of his body against mine is almost unbearable. I feel it then, the pressure of his cock head against my slick cunt. There – on the brink – he pauses and holds. We stop breathing a moment. He presses slowly, but lingers at the entrance, slowly … so slowly the walls give way easily but the penetration is barely occurring. I can’t feel the rim of his pulpy head inside. The sensation is blissful and we savour it as my finger continues its little crop circles on my clit. I lift and he leans in and he takes me, fully, deeply and utterly. Tears of joy flow from my deep blue eyes and as they fall on the car, sizzle away in the heat. He pulls out and my fingers almost loose rhythm, we steady and start anew. He enters, I lift and press in, his hand holds me steady, my leg holding his weight, he pulls out, I circle on my clit… repeat.

We dance like this under the sun, on the deserted road for an eternity and a moment in time. The giddy frenzy comes upon us; we lose ourselves in the sensations of our union. Our breath catches, he tries to hold off and yet … I come and as my flood gates release and the damn is broken and he witnesses the total abandon of my body and my soul, he pumps a little harder, a slight aggressive deepness, the tingle in his balls causes a tensing in his core… and for a moment time stands still … hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity suspended in time and we plunge together into the crazy free fall of ejaculation and orgasm.

He collapses over me, his half hard member still inside. Catching our breath we start to chuckle as the smell of evaporating sex juices hits our nostrils. He pulls up his pants, I pull down my skirt, button my blouse; he helps me with the last of the tiny buttons between kisses. He takes a step back, holds out his hand and says “come…” and I do.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
duplication of this material without express and written permission
from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts
and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to
Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific
direction to the original content.


November 3, 2009 - Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , ,


  1. That I don’t comment on every post doesn’t mean that I’m not reading them all. This time, however, I can’t remain on the sidelines like the voyeur I usually am. This time you made it so hard on yourself to surpass your own benchmark.
    This is by far the very best you have written since you started blogging. Please understand that I’m only a reader and I’m voicing my opinion, no more, no less. I have always enjoyed your trademark erotica. Usually, you flirt with style and language and the results are often pleasant. This time you ventured more and the result, as far as I’m concerned, was such a delicious combination of erotic existentialism and vividly colorful images.
    You should do this more often. My bet is that Rain Drop-let was the hardest piece to put together for you. Yet, it was also the easiest because a good part of it, especially your introduction was written by your subconscious. Am I making sense? I would really like to know about your mental process during the writing of Rain Drop-let. I am curious.

    Comment by abufares | November 4, 2009 | Reply

    • Abufares, I am honoured and pleased that you found this to your liking. I do not expect people to keep coming back but I am glad when they do. The blog is a vault of my stories, that people can visit if and when they choose. The fact that I seem to have a small and loving following is an honour and a surprise. Your support and the fact that you noticed the “exercise” involved in writing this post shows me that you have indeed been following my stories for more than a “fun read” but following my evolution in the craft. I am humbled, because I believe you to be a writer of exceptional talent. Any positive feedback on my actual writing and not just the story is truly a gift.

      Erotic existentialism. I’m not even certain where to start with this wonderful idea I was toying with and that you picked up on. The irony is that this story is one I wrote years ago. I found it when I was cleaning out my book collection to donate many volumes to the library as I prepare to downsize. It was hiding between the pages of a book I had read time and time again. It fell to the ground – and it’s funny because I has searched for it for months when I started the blog in March and never found it. It seems it found me.

      I read it, holding the paper in my hands, I recalled the frenzy of jotting down the words as they came to me. It was a draft of that I was certain. Numerous things were “wrong” with it but the idea … that was there – and perfect still. The image unfolded again in my mind. What unfolded then was simple enough, I edited using the skill I have honed since starting this blog. Carefully sharpening the hazy edges of the images, sharpening the details. Almost like using Photoshop to turn an average photo into something more.

      It was difficult. It took me back to that time I wrote it. I was going through a horrific divorce. This was my longing – almost a swan song. To find it again, years later – when the man in the story is newly in my life was more than a little eerie. It forced me to look back on my choices, the path travelled. Technically it was equally difficult. It was easy to add ‘too much” superfluous wording to it. It was difficult on every level. It also took time – years in fact – from draft to post.

      I almost didn’t post this one – I wanted to keep it for myself. For my love. I am still not certain why I did – a compulsion.

      Comment by fantasiaspillowtalk | November 4, 2009 | Reply

  2. Interesting that you mention this was written years ago. I can see how you have evolved as a writer since that time. The story is a good one and the execution solid (aside from minor grammatical issues).

    There is one thing that did yank me completely out of the story, though — you mention several times how hot the car’s metal is (burning chrome, tears sizzling on the surface) but yet you lay back on the hood without a word of complaint. Something doesn’t mesh. 🙂

    Otherwise, a very hot tale. Definitely vivid, creating a nice image in my head.

    — PB

    Comment by The Panserbjørne | November 4, 2009 | Reply

    • Thank you for the critic. I will re-read and maybe see if I can play with that – in my mind the grill and the hood of the car are not one and the same and I guess that’s not clear! Good point … I shall look into it. (Done)

      As for grammar it’s my weakness. I get into the story I don’t pay enough attention and as much as I hate seeing it in other works I read I’m less able to see it in my own.

      Thank you for visiting! As always a pleasure. You keep me on my toes.

      Comment by fantasiaspillowtalk | November 4, 2009 | Reply

  3. I’m sorry I don’t comment half often enough, however, I read the story, I re-read the story and re-read it again. It is beautiful, truly and utterly, I agree completely witht the first commenter who said it was your best. As I’m writing this I’m reading it again. I’m a romantic at heart and this appeals to me greatly! What you have achieved here is special and I can see why you wanted to keep it to yourself. I’m not willing to criticise something I find so completely alluring and beautiful I feel that would be cruel and destroy the beautiful imagery you have created and I have loved reading. Sorry if this comes out as over the top but truly I am impressed and honestly it takes a lot for me to be this impressed. Wow.
    always and amazed,

    Comment by Transylvanian Miss | November 4, 2009 | Reply

    • Over the top? are you kidding?? this made my day!! with you and Abudfares giving this feedback I can’t help feel I should try and remember my state of mind and process that led me to write this in the first place and see if I can “tap” into that again. You are welcome anytime and comment when you feel like it. I don’t have this blog up as a “popularity” contest … it’s here to share my craft and if people are moved to comment – I am thrilled …. but it is not a requirement for enjoying my simple stories.

      Thank you Transylvanian Miss for making my day!

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 5, 2009 | Reply

      • Most of your stories are anything but simple. 🙂

        — PB

        Comment by The Panserbjørne | November 5, 2009

      • Don’t want to be boring now … do we?

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 6, 2009

  4. Awh glad I did, I was just being honest I adore romance and that is the epitomy of it for me. 🙂

    Comment by Transylvanian Miss | November 5, 2009 | Reply

    • I believe that’s where my work is a little different. Some have called it “Romantica”. I have said it before, I need to feel the emotional and human part has been explored otherwise it’s just fucking and that is not what I usually want to write.

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 6, 2009 | Reply

  5. Liked this story, though the vibe stood out distinctly from other stuff I’ve read by you lately. I thought maybe you were just branching out a bit and stretching yourself. Nothing really clued me into this being an earlier work.

    Comment by smokedawg | November 5, 2009 | Reply

    • I am not sure if that is good or bad! *chuckle*

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 6, 2009 | Reply

      • No, not bad at all. I thought it was pretty hot, actually. Just felt different somehow. That’s why I thought perhaps it was a recently written story and that you were purposely switching up your style a bit.

        Comment by smokedawg | November 6, 2009

      • I just worry that if this is “my best work” and it was something done years ago … perhaps I am going backwards!! *grin* I am wondering “what” about this makes it so very different.

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 6, 2009

      • It’s different-ness made it striking, but that doesn’t in my mind make it your best work. I like it, but I still prefer your previous two postings (The Red of Blood and Smack This). I thought they were more erotic, personally.

        I can’t say for sure what makes this story seem so different from the rest, but it’s just that…different…not your “best work.” But again, that’s just my opinion.

        Comment by smokedawg | November 7, 2009

      • AH but I like your opinion!!
        Thanks smokedawg … different is good … got to keep my readers guessing as to what they will get next!

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 9, 2009

  6. I loved the dreamlike quality of this – was reading it as the rain pounded my window and I watched the drops slide down. I’m going out for walk now but I promise I won’t walk into traffic hoping to find my soulmate too (although I will be thinking of that hot car sex scene – whew!).

    Comment by wifegonebad | November 7, 2009 | Reply

    • Oh well how about that for timing … reading this while it rained must have added to it. Wonderful to have the soundtrack! Hope it was a great walk!

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 9, 2009 | Reply

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    Comment by Sex-Press | November 7, 2009 | Reply

  8. it feels like it was written as it occurred…or as it occcurred to you, anyhow. Doesn’t feel like it was sketched out, but inheritant need flows through. Not your best, speaking in a pure writing aspect…but difinitely up there as it feels “real”. As always, your words excite me, darlin’.


    Comment by rogerdemented | November 8, 2009 | Reply

    • Nice to read you again!
      It’s wonderful that one of the most “fanciful” of my works still came accross as real. That is wonderful indeed. Thank you.

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | November 9, 2009 | Reply

  9. Every storm begins with a single drop

    Comment by siranneal | November 9, 2009 | Reply

  10. Raw, bitter, nostalgic, despair tinged with hope. Beautifully written, Lillith. I loved it on many levels.

    I wanted to let you know that I wrote Part II of the erotic story, All The Queen’s Men, with your character making a brief & sultry appearance 😉


    Thanks again for the great read. Very poetic of you. I also have some stories I’ve worked on for several years and edited, re-edited and was unsure of whether or not I wanted to share with the public…I might use some in my book eventually, but I’d love to share a few with you soon!

    Comment by lexisylver | November 18, 2009 | Reply

    • I will go read!! how fun!

      Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say. When I get a compliment like that … other than thank you. Means a lot to me all this positive feedback. I am on vacation so no new posts for 2 weeks!

      AS for sharing … it would be an honour!

      I will go read!! how fun!

      Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say. When I get a compliment like that … other than thank you. Means a lot to me all this positive feedback. I am on vacation so no new posts for 2 weeks!

      AS for sharing … it would be an honour!

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | December 4, 2009 | Reply

  11. Lillith… as promised, I’d share some of my more… “artsy” or creative, nostalgic works with you. Here it is, the first “erotic” (mostly humorous) poem published on my blog. I wrote it back in high school with one of my friends when we got bored in English class… sometimes the most creative works are the impromptu ones!


    Let me know what you think… the opinion of another writer always helps! 😉 xox Lexi

    Comment by lexisylver | December 2, 2009 | Reply

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