Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Yes Indeed…

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.

Yes indeed…

May 10, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, romance, temptation | , , | 17 Comments

Real World be Damned

What a horrid day. She walked the cold streets leading to her loft tired and beaten, feeling like it would have been best if she’d just stayed home, preferably in bed, and avoided the real world altogether.

Her boss had “lost it” in frustration over a project that had been stonewalled for political reasons and decided to take it out on her bandying about statements like “I can’t do everything you know” and “I am surrounded by idiots!” making her feel like she wasn’t pulling her weight, when she knew perfectly well she was. She had spent the day tip toeing around trying to either avoid him, or in some cases just deliver early on some smaller projects just to prove him wrong. In the end all she had managed to do was exhaust herself.

Then, the ex called and made a statement along the lines of them not seeing each other enough. Adding that he wanted to discuss where their relationship was going. A part of her didn’t understand the statement at all. No time to talk about us … what us? She had moved on and it was relatively obvious that they were headed for divorce. She couldn’t understand why this needed further discussion but hated that there was some veiled passive aggressive attempt to making her feel guilty. She had wondered if perhaps a lawyer might need to get involved sooner rather than later. She felt a pang of insensitivity towards the entire state of affairs. In all fairness to the man, he’d not seen this coming. That in itself was a massive issue between them, he had felt side swiped and she did regret that. She was also angry that he hadn’t heard her all those years when things could still be saved. Yes, she hated the entire thing. Good or bad – a loss was a loss. It was painful. For both of them.

As if that wasn’t enough, a cousin decided to finally vent a frustration that had been building up for years. The perspective had been totally different from hers. Although she could admit to some of the faults he had found in her behavior, his statements were over arching and unfair, so much so that she had fought back tears. Why did people feel that it was ok to vent via e-mail during work hours?

But who was she kidding? She’d done the same thing so many times. She supposed it was the entire captive audience approach. She made a mental note not to conduct herself that way in the future, as she kicked off her high heels and walked into the loft. Leaving behind her a trail of work garb she finally flopped down on the bed, indulging in a little self pity.

She had texted her Love to let him know. Giving him her emotional reaction as each event occurred. She felt terrible disturbing him. His high profile job was hard enough on him without some emotional girlfriend interrupting his day. Yet, she knew he’d be more offended if she didn’t. He had simply replied that she was obviously having a bad day, and that he was there for her if she needed him, for as long as she needed him. Wonderfully he did not offer to “fix” anything – only to be there – her strong shoulder to lean on. He had called to re-enforce the sentiment verbally and had met up with her for an afternoon coffee so she could vent a little.

She smiled. She admitted to herself that she did need him. Yes, she needed him and that was alright. She wasn‘t going to pretend to be tougher than she was. She wasn‘t going to pull some “feminist“ move and try dealing with it all on her own. No. She waited patiently for him to arrive, knowing that the moment his arms wrapped around her she’d feel safe and loved once again. She knew she had her failings, but somehow, his ability to see her faults and abnormalities as intriguing made life all the sweeter. She was strong, but with him she could break down, cry if need be and let her emotions loose. He was her safe haven.

She heard his unique footsteps in the hallway before the metal click of the keys in the door. Quietly he entered and put his things down, removed his shoes and without further delay came to find her on the bed. His face appropriately somber, he sat next to her and put his hand on hers. The floodgates opened and tears took over. Scooping her up like a child in his arms, he held her then. With him, and him alone, she wasn’t embarrassed to cry.

“Let it out love” were the only words he ushered. She did. After what seemed like forever but was likely only a few minutes he playfully swatted her bare ass.

“Now … what shall I make us for dinner – you hungry?”

She smiled. Damn she was lucky. He had likely had a long and grueling day – yet he was going to make them dinner and he had this habit of going about doing that in just his jeans or nothing at all. A habit she had no intention of breaking him from.

He started stripping off his work clothes. She stared at his body. The contours so familiar to her. Things about him she found unique and pleasing to her personal sense of esthetics. Not to mention comforting. He went to pull on his jeans when a whimper escaped her lips. He froze and looked at her … All she could do was, in a child like gesture, put out both arms and open and close her fists in a “I want I want” motion. He laughed and tossing his jeans aside, launched himself onto the bed with her.

She giggled as he tickled her, and his hands started their magnetic dance.

“That’s my resilient girl” he said with affection a half laugh still caught in his throat. One hand found a soft spot and the other tickled her side catching her in two places, one melting into him, the other squealing. Caught between woman and child.

His mouth silenced her. His soft and lush lips an unfailing pacifier. His hand lightly smoothed across the curves of her ass, and brought his fingers into hungry contact with the already flowing juices of her lower lips. She gasped and held his cock tightly as he kissed her neck. Her clit stood at attention, and he lightly pinched it.

She pushed forward driving her crotch against his cock, trying to mount the high-reaching shaft. She wanted to get lost, escape from it all, have her world reduced to this one space, filled with only him, and their intimacy. To have her universe pin pointed to one small spot of pure pleasure.

He pushed his cock-head into her slippery cunt. At first the hole resisted, then responded to give way, her body became erratic and started to wiggle under the pleasurable fill of his manhood. The wild abandon continued with feverish elevations until her legs tightened, she gasped for air, her fingers dug deeply into his flesh, pulling and urging his ass and thus him in deeper. Her cunt began to grip and spasm along the length of his driving hardness.

The feeling was more than he could handle, the burden of his semen threatened to pump out into the channels. He moaned as his deeply-imbedded cock grew hotter and finally they met, in a frenzy of mutually pleasurable climaxes.

A light grin on her face, she watched him clean up the “mess” and finally pull on his jeans. She felt better and was ready to dose off when her tummy grumbled in a most un-lady like way.

“So about dinner…”

© 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.

March 21, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Alliance Series – Ball In Your Court

Faithful Readers,

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?”

“Neither.”

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!

Creak.

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.

“Now.”

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!

March 13, 2010 Posted by | erotica, Lust, romance, Sensual, temptation | , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Tears of Redemption

Miss me?  I have been away on vacation. Yes … much needed and much enjoyed time in the sun.  On vacation I didn’t write. Not a single word – I did however a great deal of thinking. Those thoughts then inspired a small series of stories. Not all erotic in the true sense.  Here is the first.

We don’t truly understand the meaning of the word “illusion”. Yet, we live most of our lives in one, being one. We live the life we think we should be living, and not the one that we know in our hearts is true to who we are. We keep up with the Joneses to the point of crushing debt and even breaking our own moral code. We go after big dreams that are not our own. We marry people out of fear of loneliness or because it’s “that time” and have children because it’s the next logical step. We are, in fact, spectators in our own lives, living a life of illusion.

Yet there are those that dare to be different. Those that dare to say “no” to the white picket fence, the 2.5 kids and the golden retriever. Those that  stop and think for themselves, and look outside the small confines of the world they live in and the restraints of cultural, parental, societal and religious dictatorship. There are those that will backpack around the world, those that will give up every material good or their horde of false friends in order to Be real. To be in synch with who they really are. Those few brave souls find happiness although they will often be met with sneers and glances of disapproval. After all they are proof “it” can be done – and who wants to be reminded that they are too much of a coward to find themselves?

Those unique few touch the “Real” or let the “Real” touch them like the ancients did – the fathers of the desert – men that before Christianity, would venture out into the sands, alone, as hermits to think on the relationship between humans and Life, Nature and the Absolute. Today’s Psychology is a walk in the park compared to that.

For most of us, the sense of the True, comes only as bright moments in our lives that we then spend an eternity trying to re-capture, not realizing how simple it is to let go of the Ego, from “beliefs”, from this mirror image of ourselves… the illusion.  This is the train of thought that inspired this story.

****

It was a gorgeous weekend. Sun and fall colors abound. He looked at the woman by his side and felt his heart swell. No explanation, just seeing her there by his side as they followed the path had triggered something in him. The sun shining in her auburn hair, the gray at her temples glittering; his hand reached up without prompting or forethought to caress the platinum strands. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought them back. She looked at him quizzically.  He shook his head and pointed out the stunning tree in full autumn dress and exclaimed in wonder and joked that it looked to him like the flaming bush of the bible. He started dodging around pretending he could hear the voice of God. She laughed and told him he was silly.

Even those words made him gulp down a lump in his throat – what was wrong with him?

The weekend had been full yet relaxing. They had cooked together, lingered in bed and enjoyed each other many times in many ways; they had gone to a play and stopped to listen to a street musician afterwards as they left the theater behind; still talking animatedly about the scenes that had touched them. They had tea and coffee in a quaint little hole in the wall. An art gallery turned coffee shop. And they talked a great deal more.

For now, however, they walked in silence hand in hand.

They happened upon a bench by the river, and sat down. He fumbled a moment in his many pockets and pulled out his single cigar humidor, which had been a gift from her, and his guillotine. With the same reverence of a religious ritual, he pulled the cigar out, sucked the tip to moisten it, cut and lit his one cigar of the week.  He leaned back to take in the perfect moment as they watched the sea gulls and Canada Geese fly, squawk and fight over some discarded hot dog bun. He was at peace, her head in his lap, the sun warming them even on this late fall afternoon. He couldn’t explain the overwhelming feeling in his heart and it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel “giddy crazy” … But it wasn’t calm either… euphoric perhaps.

They made their way back home. Feeling like a blanket of life and joy was wrapped around them. Their hearts warm even if their fingers and noses were cold. Once inside, the fireplace was lit, a cup of cocoa made and they continued their silent companionship as the room began to fill with the smell of a stew in the slow cooker. He was startled when she suddenly bounded up off the couch, and half ran to the bathroom only to return with a pair of tweezers.

Half blushing she asked in a tiny voice “pluck the little man hairs on my chin for me?” he tried with every ounce not to laugh. She was so classy and elegant, the idea of man hairs on her chin just didn’t jive. Yet he was amazingly touched that she’d ask him to help with their removal. Mutual grooming was such an intimate thing. He swallowed any smart ass remarks threatening to stumble off his tongue and onto his lips, and accepted the show of trust for what it was with gratitude and composure.

She lay herself down on the bed, in the sunbeam and stretched out like a cat. He started plucking away the few sparse hairs, and then was done. Yet he couldn’t move. He stayed there, hovering above her, kissing her eyelids, caressing her neck softly with his hands. The stereo played a longing tune, the sun was warm and he could not be anything but amazingly tender and loving and … she started crying.

The tears fell slowly – just falling down her cheek. He wasn’t alarmed. She was smiling, breathing quietly. Joy was writ all over her. Her delicate hand pointed to her now bare nipples and she just smirked, her eyes still closed. He started plucking out the half dozen slightly darker hairs there as well. She squirmed and squealed and then … her breathing changed.

His hand caressed her body longingly, the energy in him non sexual. It was something else. He noticed the smallest things. The pores of her skin, the tiny little hairs that would rise to meet his hand like a sweet peach lifting to meet his lips, it all amazed and intrigued. She was soft, yet firm and he marveled at that. As he lifted her leg up, and slowly entered her with his hard member, his act wasn’t a sexual one. It was one of unification. The goal not the pursuit of orgasm, but the simple joy of being cohesively One. She breathed deeply, and sighed, the rhythm was soft and slow and nothing was urgent. They gazed into each others eyes, hers still moist from her falling tears.

With both ankles atop his shoulders, he lifted her ass up softly and gently. Leaning in he was lost in wonder at her flexibility. Resting on the back of her thighs he let his eyes meet hers again and they never left. Slowly a build up occurred and they leaned in to kiss as a caress rushed through them both. They sighed. He pulled out with regret and let her legs go. She curled into him and let her hands caper and carouse with his nipples, and follow the contour of his muscles down his navel where she then played with his now softening prick. She sat up, leaned on one elbow and looked at him with tender love and compassion in her gaze.

He was looking up at her and feeling the warmth of her glowing body was an incredible comfort as was the cascade of her hair; a curtain of intimacy for just the two of them. She kissed his eyelids, his cheek, his lips and neck; she cupped his face to her, in her lap. And now he too cried. No sobs; just quiet tears pooling and gently falling in a small trickle to the white cotton of the hotel quality bedspread. He was in harmony with who he was, living the life he wanted and for the first time he loved without agenda.

He looked up at her smiling, open faced and shed more tears.

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

December 4, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, romance, Sensual, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

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 | , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Fresh Paint

The key turned in the door, it opened and there they were. The freshly painted walls of a small but well laid out apartment. The view of the city’s skyline was breathtaking as the sun set with all the over-the-top flare of a cheesy romance novel.

It was as if nothing stood between me and the large river, the trees and the hustle and bustle of the crowd below as I looked down on the tiny ants that were the people going about their business on the sidewalk. Top floor exhilaration. Even if it wasn’t a penthouse, somehow this bird’s-eye view of the world made it feel more special and the unobstructed vista made the small space seem larger.

I made my way to the window, drawn like a moth to a flame by the scenery displayed in the warm orange glow, and stood in front of the window just soaking it all in. I heard the door th-thunk behind me in a pleasant yet firm manner, a jingle of keys on the counter, some geese in the sky practicing their flight pattern squawked and I smelled your gentle cologne moments before your arms wrapped around my waist. “Welcome home“. I smiled as your warm voice and tender words soaked through and started too knead away at the built up tension in my shoulders from days of stress.

It had been a long journey to get here with so many ups and downs and such tremendous uncertainty. Highs and lows had become our new normal. But we had made it.

There was still no furniture. We had bought it all but it had yet to be delivered by the multiple distributors. Much of what we owned was still in storage. I took it all in. These bare walls. Strangely even without a stitch of our personalities to adorn them the place did indeed feel like home.

I leaned back, trusting you with my full weight and just stood with you for many long minutes. I marveled that we were already so comfortable with each other that long drawn out silences weren’t awkward. Your lips found the soft spot near my ear and you kissed me pulling me in and a little up into you. For a moment I was overwhelmed by the deep love emanating from my heart and yours and that little doubt in my head in my mother’s voice “this shit doesn’t happen in real life wake up and smell the coffee!” was silenced. You hugged me as if sensing my internal release.

It took all of 2 minutes to walk around the place when we got to it. It had a small bedroom, living room, den and bathroom and a galley kitchen opening onto the living area. But everything was high end, the hardwood floors clean and the fixtures brand new. This wouldn’t be our final home but for now it would do. It would do very nicely.

Playfully I blitz stripped and let my clothing fall in a pile on the kitchen floor and started running around arms up in the air, my breasts thus lifted I shouted “running naked in the apartment!! Running naked in the apartment!! Running nak….” your own nude body collided with mine as you stood in my way. I giggled and dropped to the floor and took your erect penis in my mouth and sucked.

Not feeling very serious about it all, I moaned in a dramatic act that you knew was my way of poking fun at the porn industry. It included giving you bedroom eyes with an exaggerated fluttering of the eyelashes. You grinned, then laughed and picked me up off the floor. “Oh you….” I kissed you to stop the “cheeky monkey” from escaping your mouth.

Three steps and you had me on the kitchen counter. We had talked about this so often. The only thing missing was the sushi for you to eat off my body. Some day, some day soon. For now you let your hand glide over my stomach. I felt as if I was on an altar and yours to take as you would. Your fingers lingered over my breasts and you pinched my nipples a little harder than needed. My back arched up as I squeaked my surprise.

You leaned over, I watched in admiration the long sinewy muscles of your body, and I reached out and let my digits trail your tendon and muscle definition. You turned me on. Lost in the visual feast that is you, I was almost surprised when your full and warm lips parted me below and you took my clit between your teeth. I moaned and let go of the worries of my life.

Lost in the corporal pleasure of our play I did not even notice you shift from cunnilingus to full on penetrative sex. I don’t know if the lack of décor made the world around me a blank canvas, or the joy of us having our own place was more of an aphrodisiac than I had thought possible, but whatever the reason lost is the only word left to describe the moment. I knew not my body, or mind. I wasn’t me or thinking or concentrating … I was lost in the ecstasy. I came hard.

Dazed, you pulled me off the countertop and laid me down on the hardwood floor. It was … hard. But in the stupor of my afterglow it was a bed of down feathers. Your head on my lap and mine on yours, curled in a ball like a ying and a yang, we relaxed. We didn’t speak. There was no need. We dosed.

I found myself looking in great detail at your member. Its happy little tired head flopped against your inner thigh. I couldn’t resist, I reached out and caressed it lovingly. Before long it was back at attention and we started making love again. But comfort became an issue. No matter what we did, knees, elbows, or in my case some serious hardwood burn, would halt the pleasure. With a sweep of your hand you raised us both and walked us towards the bathroom.

The restroom was disproportionately large for such a small apartment. It was in fact a selling point. No cramped little space. The main feature was the 3 mirrors above the very large counter. The one’s on each end were at an angle following the odd curve of the wall. The result, I soon found out, was that once I was flat on my stomach with my one knee cocked and on the counter as well, the kink in the reflective surfaces meant that we could both see our love making at almost every angle.

At first I was shy about it; not liking to see my own face and expressions reflected so. But when I saw your body flexing and moving in the rhythm of your penetration, the in and slow out of your shaft entering and leaving my cunt, it was like watching us as the leads of our own porn. The entire situation sent me over the edge over and over again.

You plunged deep, deep inside of me. We watched as your prick disappeared and reappeared. I observed through glazed eyes as an orgasm hit my own body. Your core engaged and you curved inwards, your head flipped back, your butt cheeks clenched and I could almost see the tingling, erotic arousal that made your cock-head feel hotter with each movement. Cum poured from your flared tip with long, tired pumps. Your eyes closed and you inhaled as your hose drained the newly built load in tandem with your slow growl of pleasure.

You collapsed on me, our eyes met in the mirror and we both smiled, and then laughed.
I’ll get the camera phone” … and off you went excitedly.

Oh yes, this was home.

October 2, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Woven threads of our Sunday

A shared moment and thought – un-edited – not a story. A glimpse into the life of ….

Sunrise on Sunday morning…

Some love it for the guarantee of brunch, the paper and coffee in bed, for time with friends and family, or for the slow and easy pace the world seems to take on that second weekend day.

Some see it as the end of the week, I prefer it as the first day of mine. For me it is the promise of hours of slow, sweet fucking, and the launching of my soul to depart and float forward and mingle with his, that makes Sunday my “it” day.

You’ll find the phone off the hook, the “do not disturb” sign on the door and us laying entwined, sweat glistening off our bodies and my hand reaching down for his still hard cock.

Slowly and methodically I will stroke him, pressure building towards the head. Leaning over I will whisper secrets in his ear. Of those, only he is allowed to sit in judgment. He will smile, moan, and respond to every inch of me and me to every centimeter of him.

He and I will come and come again all day. As we loose track of time between the sheets, down the hall, on the kitchen counter and back again. We will eat with, on and from each other. Laugh, giggle, sigh, bathe and speak. The world can go to hell in a hand basket, we are nesting in our own heavenly bubble.

We pray at each others altars, connect and rejoice. A week of “I don’t have time” and “yeah hold on” has finished. We start anew – connect; find each other again, charge our emotional batteries. Sure a quickie will occur on other days, and yes we will make love certainly … but the slow, all day in bed fucking, that is our lazy us time makes Sunday our relationship nuclear power plant.

We will re-etch our scents, the lines of our bodies, sounds, smells and dreams onto our hearts and minds. Trade new secrets and old, share fresh fears and battle ancient demons. All the while our hands will wonder, our nakedness will unite us and our backs will arch as we come, bathing us in glistening nectar.

In the end I will feel my soul come back to me as we lie together in the moonlight wrapped in a blanket of the woven threads of our Sunday.

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

September 12, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 39 Comments

Part II – Cottage Country

Startled at the man’s reaction, one hand on his softening manhood, frozen in place like a deer caught in the headlights; David couldn’t go far with his shorts still around his ankles. He hastily fumbled to make himself decent. Sue drew a sharp breath and took a step back hitting her head on a low branch. Yet … neither left, eager for the last moments of magic. They stood mutely in the shadow of the large tree watching the scene draw to a close.

The man stepped away from the table and offered his hand to his lover. She extended hers and, holding her gently, he pulled her upright so that she sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the picnic table.

Her body was resplendent in the moonlight. David noted that even though she was now upright, her breasts remained firm, forgotten by gravity. Her silhouette was stunning. With her laying on the table he had not been able to fully appreciated how her hip to waist ratio was in fact almost too perfect for words. If he hadn’t known better he would have sworn she was airbrushed. He shook his head feeling once again inadequate as he gazed at this couple and the scene very much like one from ancient mythology; the Gods having chosen the woman they wanted and consumed by desire they had found a way to become one with her.

They moved with such grace that even as they held each other for a moment the atmosphere was still highly charged. The Lady in question pulled her summer dress to cover her modesty and the “God” hiked up his shorts breaking the illusion at last with this very human gesture. The definition of his torso somehow exaggerated by the exertions, however, was something that could not be ignored, and David felt a pang of annoyance as he heard Sue draw in a breath of appreciation. Then, he gave himself a mental slap on the back of the head for the hypocrisy of that emotion.

A few moments later, the spell somewhat broken, David relaxed his grip on Sue’s hand and despite the cool of the evening, their hold was slippery with perspiration. Sue turned and standing on tip toe whispered into his ear. “Come on, let’s go. I think he saw us …. and we need to get back to Gemma .” She led him carefully towards the path and they walked silently to their cottage; their minds full of what they had just witnessed.

At the foot of the verandah she went ahead of him and stopped on top of the steps, turning so she was on a level with him for once. She looked him straight in the eyes, his warm kind eyes, and lifted her hands to hold his face. She leaned and gently kissed him on the lips. David responded, his hands on her small waist pulling her closer, his own mouth working and savoring the taste of her on his own. He breathed in deeply, enjoying, that now familiar perfume, they had bought together at the duty free shop just a few days ago.

They kissed a little longer, their tongues softly darting and entangling with each other’s. She moved her arms so they wrapped around his neck and leaned against him, trusting him with her weight. He pulled her closer, his hands now on the soft flesh at the top of her legs and only the thin linen of her dress separating them. She desperately wanted to feel his touch on her. She hesitated for a moment before jumping up, lifting herself one leg at a time, so she could wrap them tightly around his waist. There was something about the gentle giant in him she had begun to fully appreciate.

They had tried only twice to make love. The first time had been a disaster as Gemma had woken in a nightmare and by the time they had calmed her down the moment had passed. But it had been good to fall asleep and wake in the morning together. Having a toddler in the house, however, meant there was little opportunity for anything first thing in the morning.

The second time had been a little more successful. They had not been interrupted but David hadn’t managed to deal with penetration. His guilt at being with “another woman” had overwhelmed him. He was so depressed about not being able to see it through that it had stopped any further attempts.

But somehow this time felt different. They were both relaxed, with no risk of being interrupted, except perhaps by the night life, and they were both greatly affected by the scene they had witnessed. His kisses began to feel more urgent and his hands tugged at the material of her dress. Sue shuddered with excitement, her eyes closed, her mouth moist, her tongue swirling and teasing over his. His fingers circled close to the fine trimmed hairs and she willed him to be a little more adventurous. She purred as they kissed and this seemed to be enough as his fingers slipped inside the cotton and elastic of her panties and found her yielding and damp edges. It had been sometime since she too had experienced such erotic sensuous attention and the stimulation seemed to open a flood gate.

She broke off kissing his mouth and as she pecked and licked his left ear she softly whispered to him that if he carried on like that she would quickly loose it. She wanted them to have that special moment. He nodded silently and taking one step at a time with her still wrapped around him, his left hand holding her ass in place, he walked up and across the verandah to the cottage door. He found the handle and gently opened it and carried her through.

The fire was still gently crackling and emitting its soft light bathing the room in a romantic glow. David thought briefly of how imprudent it had been to leave Gemma and this fire behind. He chastised himself internally nearly ruining the moment.

He shook his head … and kneeled by the blaze and let Sue lay on the rug. Her eyes bright, and sparkling, never for a moment looking away. Her hand smoothed away furrows that had developed on his forehead. “Come here my sweet” she said softly, as she pulled him so he lay next to her. She unbuttoned the front of her dress and took his hand so that he cupped her breast. They were small, with what David thought, was the most lovely slope to the tip of perky and slightly over large nipples. In their succulent perfection they begged to be sucked. Hungrily he wrapped his mouth around one and did so.

Sue let out a moan … low and guttural. David was certain that she was almost ready to come. He slowed his endeavors wanting, like her, to let the moment be one they would never forget.

He took great, slow pleasure in undressing her, then himself. They enjoyed the exploration of their bodies by the soft warm glow of the fire. Hands shook a little, and sighs were dished out in spades. Sue could not ignore the large and “demanding attention” presence between David’s thighs. She noted again, with a certain amount of appreciation and apprehension, the girth of his shaft. Her tiny frame and his giant one might prove to be a challenge.

David’s hands ran up and down Sue’s back, getting comfortable in the simple joy of being nude together. “Happy naked time.” Sue giggled … quoting Gemma from a few days ago. David’s deep and honest chuckle finally destroying the last barrier left standing between them. He hovered over her now, slowly going down … down… in a trail of soft but urgent kisses. Her thighs opened a little further as he reached the sweet spot and lifted her ass off the carpet bringing her to his lips as if to drink from a chalice. The gesture so reverent Sue’s breath caught in her lungs her body trembling.

He parted her further with his tongue, lowering her back down. She was so drenched she knew her fluids would leave a healthy wet spot. He placed himself between her legs, his member hovering over her small, yet aching entrance and freezed. She bit her lip. “The point of no return” he whispered … her small hands reached for his hips, guiding him a tiny bit closer. He looked down at her. His eyes were filled with tears, a look of utter pain and pleasure writ across his face. Sue held still … very – very still. Waiting for him to be ready.

David’s mind was going a thousand miles an hour. He hovered. His desire almost as painful as the ache in his heart. He finally looked outwards from himself to Sue. Their eyes connected again. He saw all the compassion and tenderness in her, he felt her petite hands holding him. The heat from her crotch a welcome like he had never known. She smiled, nodded …. She understood. She was waiting … he wanted this ….. Her hand pulled him in infinitesimally closer.

She is so beautiful there, open to me, vulnerable yet strong in her patience. She’s a woman I can love … she’s a woman I do love . The realization hit him hard, and in that moment, all guilt disappeared.

Sue noticed a shift in his expression and body language. Her heart swelled as she saw in him that he had at last let go and he was now hers. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and she tried to hold back the sob threatening to take over. She pulled him in, wanting to lose herself in the throws of their union. He complied at last. The wide and thick head of his penis finally touched her, she pushed up, lifting to accommodate. He was still hard, very hard and eager. He pushed, almost violent in the penetration but stopped as she let out a whimper.

Afraid of ripping her, David slowed down. He pushed in, waited. Pushed further and waited. A little further and waited. Sue was so wet that the only friction was from the incredible tightness of the fit. It felt so good he almost lost it right then and there. The waiting was as much for him as it was for her to adjust to his girth. Finally he was in, all the way to the hilt. He pulled back gently, and the moan of pleasure that filled the room came from them both.

He made love to her then. Slow and steady. He watched her carefully. Marveled at the abandon she showed, the pleasure that was so obviously being had. She made him feel like the king of all men as she wiggled, and sighed and arched her back to take him – all of him – in. He couldn’t hold much longer but tried. It had been so long, the feeling was so intense he realized that he just could not stop the tidal wave from crashing, the tsunami from hitting and in a roar of almost rage and desperate violent cry for life he thrust deep within her and came.

She screamed from pain and joy as she joined him moments later and the two forgot about neighbors, strangers, Gemma in the next room, the past and the world around them. For a moment time was suspended and the only thing real was the pleasure being given and received.

He collapsed next to her, and grabbed her to keep them connected and buried his face into her small frame and cried. Large tears of release, erased what seemed like an eternity of pain. And he found himself drowning now in the promise of new happiness, of new beginnings.


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

July 23, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, romance, Sensual, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Part I – Cottage Country

David sat in his chair, enjoying a glass of single malt whiskey, letting the light of the fire play on the liquid, turning it different shades of amber. Beauty could be found anywhere he mused. It was a lovely summer evening, the stars were out, the sky bright after a day of sunshine. It was perfect. Even a cool breeze afforded some relief from what could have otherwise been an oppressively hot night.

He had built a small fire in the hearth, more for ambience than heat. He sat there looking at the young woman across from him dozing, and listened to the loons cry out as the sun set. It made him chuckle, reminding him of that final scene of The Walton’s, like listening to a roll call. It was beautiful, eerie and familiar. He’d been listening to that sound every summer for the last forty years. It never stopped getting to him; tugging at his heart. It was his reason for coming here year after year and leaving London and the UK behind for a full two months and why he had never had the heart to sell his parents cottage.

Things had changed little over time in this place. In fact he and his family were more or less the newbie’s to the area with many cottages having been handed down from generation to generation. He knew his neighbors’ well and they all knew him. They knew his little girl, Gemma, now fast asleep in the room next door, and of the tragic death of her mother in childbirth. They had helped as much as they could, mostly by staying away and giving him the space he needed.

He had been replaying in his mind, the series of events that was the whirlwind that had brought Sue to join him here so unexpectedly this summer. He looked at her, shaking his head, amazed. He had met her only weeks ago, feeding the ducks with his little one in the park after work one day. He was remembering the look on her face as he had presented her with the plane tickets, when he heard a scream from next door.

The properties were not close to one another, the sound therefore startled him out of his reverie quickly. He knew the place was often rented out to city folk looking to “play country cottage” for a weekend and as such, the tenants often did not know the “ins and outs” of country living. This was the real forest. Things here could be dangerous.

He decided to go and investigate – just in case. After all, if he let out a scream like that he’d hope for someone to come and check on him. He woke Sue and sprayed on some extra bug repellant, grabbed the baby monitor and left the cottage in direction of the racket. He walked carefully, kicking himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight along, pulling on Sue’s tiny hand behind him. He saw the glow of a large bonfire a few hundred feet away and walked towards it. The closer he came the more he heard the noises. Low moans and occasional screams. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he should be approaching unarmed. He signaled for Sue to wait there and walked ahead.

He ventured closer to the property line and, crouching to get under a large branch he spotted them and froze. Taking a step back he shook his head, trying to get rid of the image that was branded there forever but couldn’t . He wanted more… wanted to see more. Slowly, he nestled lower and lifted the branch just enough to afford him a better view. As he did so a loud moan filled the air again. Sue startled him as she put her hand on his shoulder and crouched down next to him to see what had caught his attention. He felt strangely excited, knowing that “they” were ignorant of his presence. He looked at Sue’s face for a moment, her jaw had dropped and her tongue licked her lips and a small smile crossed her face. With that stamp of approval he took in the scene before him.

There “they” were, two lovers, in the most unusual light. The cold white moon bathing them from above and the warm red and orange glow from the fire lighting them from below. He saw the man first, could not look away. He was tall, lean and all muscle. Thick hair on his head and no place else, with a swimmers body and a large cock that was slamming into a woman he so obviously adored. His ass, clenching and relaxing as he impaled her in perfect harmony with the sound of the wooden picnic table creaking under the strain of the two of them, the sexy sound of the slap slap slap of flesh on flesh echoing in the clearing. The man’s eyes were locked on his lovers, utterly focused. His virility was almost intimidating.

He held her legs over his shoulders, his face at times turning to kiss a dainty foot resting there on his strong and defined muscles. His rhythm was fast but steady, this was no dash to the finish line, he intended to make her squirm… and she did.

Her beautiful face, with large, almond shaped eyes, reflecting the night back at her partner, was a study in love. David had seen that look before; his throat tightened at the memory. He remembered what is was like to be loved like that. He suddenly felt guilty for watching and a pang of jealousy filled his heart. Loneliness followed. Just then, Sue’s hand hovered over his, hesitant a moment and then took it firmly and gave it a squeeze. He turned to see her looking at him – she knew and he felt a swell of affection for her fill that void. He nodded, squeezed her hand back and gave her a big, wicked grin. She smiled in return as they continued to observe.

The woman lay on the picnic table that almost seemed like an altar, her long hair falling in a cascade of curls off the edge, like Rapunzel throwing it down to her prince. Her breasts were free of the small summer dress that had at one point been buttoned up and now lay open revealing the soft sun kissed flesh below. Two fully blossomed breasts held firm, solid ground as they hovered with their pointed, pink nipples capping each end. David’s mouth watered as he imagined the succulent, soft flesh of the two glowing mounds under the lapping of his tongue, the sucking of his lips. Her stomach was flat and strong, but not skinny like those magazine models. She had that softness that made a man melt. Her legs were long and muscular, and would tense as the pleasure coursed through her.

David’s eyes followed the curve of her slender, supple waist, the mounding swell of full hips and the uppermost half of two round, glaring white, tender buns. He could not stop looking at her ass. It was spectacular, there really was no other word for it. He found himself entranced by it’s sight. As her partner moved inside her, as they gazed at one another, the movement and rhythm would change the lighting. One moment cool moonlight the next fire hot… angels or demons – not so obvious. David reached down into his pants. His erect penis, straining in his jeans, twitched, and his legs tightened. He released his own flared and hard cock and wrapped it in the familiar grasp of his hand; biting his lip to keep from moaning himself.

He continued to watch the scene unfolding before him, knowing it was wrong but staying anyway. Sue had followed suit and was masturbating quietly having found a tree trunk to lean against for support. David realized his knees were getting tired and found a log and made himself comfortable. He and Sue exchanged a grin that said it all: Their fault for doing it outdoors – and being so bloody loud about it !

The man was sweating now coating his spectacular body and letting it shine in the light. He looked more like one of those Gods from mythology than a man; and here he was claiming one of the human beauties as his own or in sacrifice. With a hand on each side of her hips, he slowly and carefully fired his cock inside with quick, deep thrusts. She trembled and twisted her ass in gleeful reception. Deeper, deeper he pushed, liquid oozed down and David swore he saw a few glimmering drops fall off the edge of the wooden slab.

She bent more, bringing her knees to her head, and reached back to grab his swinging sack of testicles with her hand. She rolled them tenderly in her fingers as he sent his member into wet lips through the foaming juices around the rim of her cunt. Her beautiful face started to contort into different facial expressions bordering between pain and pleasure, her moan filled the forest and got louder and louder. The bats overhead seemed to fly in harmony with her song. Then she screamed loud, total and her body arched, her back lifting right off the table as her lover screamed her name to the heavens and flung his head back in animal ecstasy as his climax joined hers and rose from the balls she held, semen coursing upward into the lengthy rod and burning its way to burst from the end to claim her fully with his seed.

At that moment David spilled his own onto the forest floor. Holding his breath so as to not make a sound. He looked down at the puddle glistening in the moonlight – then at Sue, whose flushed face spoke of release. His heart thumped in his ears. He looked up one last time and saw the lovers entwined, now whispering sweet words to each other. The woman’s eyes still closed her breathing still labored her arms around her man‘s neck possessively. Just then, the man turned his head ….. Looked straight at David… raised an eyebrow and smiled before turning back to his lover and kissing her with passion as his flaccid penis left her warmth and dribbled the juice of their love making onto the soil below.

Sparks_1

© 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.

July 18, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, romance, Sensual, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Prologue – Cottage Country

This story has been brought to you by ukroadrunner and myself.   The Prologue was his creation, and the two main characters are his (you will note – I never use names).  I then took it from there with Part I of Cottage Country. The real challenge occurred in Part II where the true collaboration occurred.

There were two rules of engagement:

1) Emotions drive the plot not the sex (i.e. it‘s erotica not porn).

2) Each section has to stand on it’s own (readers often follow their own sequence).

Now …enjoy! We did!

*********************

Sue sauntered up from Knightsbridge tube station into the daylight and away from the gloom and dank of the underground. Her cell-phone purred, now that it could pick up a signal, and she reached into her shoulder bag to lift it out as she hit pavement level. The noise of the congestion caught her by surprise – double decker buses and London taxis crawled in a sea of red and black in the early evening rush hour as the traffic made its way around Hyde Park Corner. She paused to flip open her phone, read the message with her back to the noise and then slammed the lid down – clearly disappointed.

She turned on her heels to walk towards the gates and into the park, shaking her head and wondering what was so important that her best-friend could not get away from her hedge fund employer to meet her for tea and then maybe something to eat later. They hadn’t seen each other in over 18 months and it was always good to meet up. She had been looking forward to seeing the latest photos of her friends regular stream of babies and to share a laugh with her over stories of the men she, herself, had dated since they had last conversed face to face.

The gates to the park were set in an impressive Portland stone archway that was imposing and spoke of the affluence of London life going back two centuries. She walked through, over the pedestrian crossing and down the hill along the path towards the floral gardens. The lane was used by cyclists on their way home, joggers, skaters and tourists taking in the sights. A couple of horses were being exercised on the trotting corridor by guardsmen who use the park as their training ground. The scene was typical and yet quite extraordinary.

It had been a predictable London summer day – warm, with almost oppressive humidity, and white clouds bubbling and building up as the afternoon went on, already obscuring the sunshine. The threat of thunder hung heavily as the cloud cover began to turn grey. She felt the humidity crawl at her skin as a thin veil of perspiration broke out over her body and small beads began to form on the soft fine hair above her upper lip. She tugged at the her top to allow a warm gush of air to pass up her back.

Walking slowly along the path she watched the others – all sizes and shapes, some clad in tight lycra, others in summer dresses and even the trademark London chalk striped wool suit. She enjoyed people watching and wondered whether they saw her and what they noticed in her. She thought she was, by any standards, unremarkable. Under-average height, flat chested and wearing her mousy colored hair in a pony-tail. Her face was freckled from too much time in the sun. Her body, although saved from the torture of child-bearing, could be improved by some discipline in the gym – which she paid handsomely for but rarely benefited from.

Above a fashionable, slightly frayed denim skirt, she wore an olive top with thin straps, a little adventurous to the front and a racing back. At the end of her slim, bare legs, a pair of Paul Smith thong sandals encased her freshly pedicured feet. The sandals were her frivolous, spur of the moment purchase, earlier that day and she felt very proud of them. A pair of high-street store sun-glasses sat perched on her head.
She let out a big sigh as she walked into the formal, floral garden. The colors, even now in the evening light were bright and lively, with shades of red, orange, blue and violet in every texture and size imaginable. Foxglove, campanula, delphinium and monkshood – the lawns manicured, straight and mature – it was breathtaking. Her bag brushed a lavender plant and its sweet scent followed her for a moment. Enjoying the peace and quiet, she decided to stop for some tea at the cafe that overlooked the Serpentine before heading for a restaurant near her hotel.

The cafe was winding down and staff were wiping tables and clearing up but were happy to serve her. She took her tray to an outdoor table. The sun had re-appeared beneath the cloud level and cast its fading light over the lake. Ducks and swans dawdled and nearby a toddler stood near the edge throwing bits of scone into the water – the father sat edgily on his bench not wanting to over protect the child but still concerned if the furrows on his wide forehead was anything to go by. The little girl in a pretty denim pinafore dress and white sandals was quite blond and wore her hair in platted pig tails with matching ribbons.

She smiled at the scene and nodded to the man silently acknowledging the risks and her participation in any rescue if it were needed. The man raised an eyebrow back and nodded too – a broad grin on his face. He was, she thought as she sipped her tea, quite attractive. His eyes warm and kind. She carried on, savoring her drink, as the child now bored of the ducks turned its attention on her. She put down her cup and lent forward in her seat – making an over the top smile and holding out her hand to the crushed scone being offered to her.

“Why thank you so much.” she said, “Yum, yum.” and turned to the man who was now off his seat and walking towards them.

“Oh I am sorry!” he exclaimed as he got nearer, “Gemma is such a friendly person and likes everyone to be part of the fun.” He stooped down and swept Gemma up in his arms, placing her on his hip quite expertly.

“Me feed ducks.” chirped Gemma

They laughed and Sue made some comment about how no apology was needed. The man went on to say how beautiful the light was this time of the evening. She nodded in agreement, holding out her hand to Gemma’s outstretched tiny fingers. The scone seemed to have disappeared but then she saw it smeared on the gentleman’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but grin,

“Hmmm – you are gorgeous but I bet you are also a little pickle!”
“Well thank you – but I am more used to just being called handsome.” he replied laughing.
“Handsome possibly …but not with extra scone – it doesn’t do it for me!” she flirted and pointed to where the damage had been done.

He looked where she was pointing, his hand quickly flicking off the crumbs onto the floor. She noticed his hands, like his face, were tanned and that his fingernails were well looked after.

“Ah, any better?” he responded, a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.
“Could be!” she said, her own grin spreading across her face, “But I was really referring to this gorgeous young lady.”

“Yes well, she seems to attract attention wherever she goes does this one.” And with that he tickled Gemma who shrieked and demanded more.

They all laughed and then there was a pause.
“I am David.” he said suddenly.
“Oh … hi David … my name is Sue, Sue Davis.” and without thinking she stuck out her hand for a hand shake.

Slightly bemused he politely took her hand in his for a moment, “Nice to meet you Sue.” he said. Gemma moved to push herself off David’s hip and he swung her round first, to more laughter, before setting her down,

“Stay away from the water now Gemma, there is a good girl.”

Gemma wobbled off towards a flower bush and they watched her silently for a moment.

“You visiting London?” he asked quietly.

“Just a day or two, not sure now – my plans kind of fell through this afternoon so not really quite sure what I might do.” she said looking at him. He was tall, solid, probably played rugby or something and seemed to keep himself in shape. His fair hair was thinning and was kept short and neat. He was dressed in a grey suit, a plain light blue shirt, a couple of buttons undone at the top with a few wispy chest hairs poking through, and black, expensive looking shoes. She noticed a tie, stuffed carelessly in his trouser pocket, was hanging out an inch or two. His features were quite attractive. She had never really had the benefit of attention from men like him before – men like him normally went for the tall, big breasted, blonde girls who oozed confidence and wit that she didn’t recognize as her qualities.

“Well maybe now you have a new friend.” David said nodding at Gemma, “You might want to hang about a bit longer. You’ve made an impression there.”

“That is very sweet of you. Maybe I will! Nice to meet new people. I don’t often have the courage to do that, but children can be so easy to talk to – – – Have all this time and don’t know really what to do with it. Haven’t made plans… well I did but they are falling through one at a time and leaving me really uncertain with what to do next. I don’t like that makes me edgy …. really.” She was conscious she was now babbling to cover her nervousness at talking to an attractive man and she stopped abruptly.
“So you are a teacher then?”
“Yes – 10 years. On summer holiday now.”
“Ah – school teachers and summer holidays. Probably shouldn’t go there should I?” he winked.
She giggled, “Probably not if you want to stay friends!”
“My wife was a school teacher – primary, the really young ones – and I soon stopped those types of gags.”

“Me too! – love them at that age – so much to learn and so little time before they mature into little thugs many of them. What does she do now, you said she “was” a school teacher?”
“Actually, Kirsten died having Gemma.” he said quietly, “But you were not to know that. It’s been tough but we are making progress Gemma and I.”
“Oh I am so sorry for you.” She said feeling quite unsettled at having put her foot in it.
“Really … please, you don’t have to be, you weren’t to know. I like talking about Kirsten, often I bore people stupid, but you are the first woman I have talked to on my own since I lost her. And actually it’s quite nice.”

“Oh.” was about as much as she could say, “I mean I think that’s a compliment – isn’t it?”

“I should think so! And thank you for making this so easy. Gemma … come away please.” Gemma was edging towards the lake side again.

The tea in Sue’s cup was cold but she didn’t care. “What you doing now, this evening?” she asked.
“Emm, we just got here – a minute ahead of you. Normally we walk round the lake, over the bridge and then down into Knightsbridge for something to eat. I have a favorite restaurant that is child friendly and the waitresses adore her.”
“Would you mind if I walked with you – I mean just to the bridge? It is nice to have company if I am honest.”

“…. why not – Gemma would be glad of the company and actually so would I.” She stood up and found that she barely reached his shoulders he was so tall. She smiled at him and turned to look at Gemma who was walking back towards them.

“Come on then Pickle, shall we go find some more ducks and maybe a squirrel?” she said and squatted down beside the toddler to take the squashed flower offered to her. They wandered round the front of the cafe, and turned left to walk along the lake shore. It was quieter here than on the path, and they spread out across the path. Him walking slowly with the pushchair and she beside him. Gemma walked slightly in front stopping now and again to point or pick something off the floor. He began to talk about himself to her delight and she learnt he worked in finance, lived in Kensington and was indeed a rugby player. They laughed at a couple of silly stories about his team mates.

Far too quickly they arrived at the bridge which crossed the Serpentine and allowed the traffic to cross through the park. She needed to turn right up towards Lancaster Gate. They stopped at the corner. Gemma climbed up into her pushchair.

“I’ve really enjoyed meeting you Sue.” he said.
“Me likewise.” she replied.
“I’d like to see you again – we’d like to see you again.” he corrected himself, “Wouldn’t we, Gemma?”

The little girl was leaning back, sucking her thumb, the fingers of her other hand playing with a bit of hair that had fallen out of her pig-tails. She nodded.
“Well so would I if you would.”
“Emm – if I give you my mobile number – maybe you could call me later or text me and we could fix something, maybe tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
He wrote his phone number on the back of a till receipt from his supermarket that was in his wallet. She tore a bit off and wrote her number on it and handed it to him. “Just in case I lose yours or something!” There was a pause and then he leaned a bit awkwardly and went to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled, laid a hand gently on his shoulder and returned the kiss. “Thank you both for such a lovely time – see you soon Gemma – and you David?”
“Bye for now – thanks.” he said.
She turned and began to walk away and looking her shoulder, she noticed that David had turned the push chair so that Gemma could wave. Sue waved back and then set off up the hill.

A moment or two later her mobile purred. She opened the lid and smiled as she read the message Thanks. Hear from you soon. David x
“What a lovely man.” she thought, “First one in ages that didn’t want to get into my knickers before even knowing my name. Shame he didn’t know I was going commando today.”

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

July 13, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, romance, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments