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

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

Montecristo

Storry was removed – to be published in Oyster’s and Chocolate – August 2010!!

February 9, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Sensual, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Scandinavian Spa

“The concept requires alternating hot, cold and relaxation periods. First warm up your body by taking a Finnish sauna or steam bath for 10 to 15 minutes; this will open up your pores and toxins can be evacuated through sweat. Then, quickly cool off by submerging yourself under the Nordic waterfall or in one of our cold or temperate pools; this step will help rinse off toxins and tighten up the pores of your skin. Finally, complete the process with a calming period by sitting peacefully for another 10 to 15 minutes in one of our indoor or outdoor relaxation areas. This step will allow your system to find its normal rhythm. To fully take advantage of the beneficial effects of such an activity, we recommend that you repeat these steps 3 to 4 times in a row, at your own pace, and top off the experience by relaxing your muscles in our outdoor hot tub.
The benefits of Nordic baths are numerous. Additionally to providing a total sense of well being and relaxation, this activity allows the body to eliminate toxins, relax the muscles, improve the quality of sleep, stimulates the mechanisms of the immune system and contributes to overall oxygenation. All in all, this experience provides an opportunity to purify oneself, both physically and spiritually.”
 

 

Hmmmm sounds good to me.

11:15 a.m. The day is ideal, cool crisp and the sun coming and going ensures that neither one of us will get a sunburn, especially her with her fair skin. We check in and get our bottles of water, locker “magnetic key” bracelet and big fluffy robes and towels.

11:25 a.m. The locker room is large and spacious and packed with amenities like hairdryers, shampoos, conditioners and body lotions. Change stalls are available for the more prudish and large long benches with ample space to sprawl your belongings for those like me happy to prance around in glorious nudity. Showers are clean and the tiny little glass tiles give them the appearance of a big shiny opal.

I strip and fold my things neatly into a locker. Pull on my bikini; weave my hair into two neat little braids to keep my long locks out of my face. I pull on the rob, grab my towel, plop the water bottle into my pocket, slip on my flip flops and make my way out to the glorious summer day and handsome companion.

11:40 a.m. She walks out of the locker room and my heart implodes in my chest. I love how versatile she is. One moment all outdoorsy ready to zip line, bike or bungee jump, the next girly in high heels and summer dresses ready for a play or ballet … but this is how I love her best. Not a trace of makeup, her breasts obscenely stretching the fabric of her bikini top, her little braids reminding me of my childhood cowboy and Indian story books. She’s got curves with strong muscles underneath. She’s beautiful.

11:50 a.m. I let her know that I am hungry and we make our way to the restaurant and share a light meal. The food very healthy and filling without making us feel like a mountain of bricks has landed suddenly in our guts.

12:15 p.m. We find a lounge area in the sun and let our meal settle. We enjoy the quiet. No one is allowed to talk. The silence is truly golden. I let my eyes close.

Now and then I open them to admire the contour of his fit and handsome body. It’s funny how you can know a person for months and suddenly see something new. In the sun, I notice the smile lines near his eyes. The upward sweep makes him seem happy even in the relaxed pose. His hair falling from his face always seems so dark, but in the sun I discern a slight red undertone I had not distinguished before.

“You ready?” your voice catches me off guard I am so lost in my observations … your smile tells me you’d noticed.

12:45 p.m. It’s hot. We have walked into the Turkish bath and its wall of eucalyptus steam. The hot and heavy air making her cough a little as her lungs adjusted and she settled next to me on the bench.

The décor is stunning. The room is a large oval shape with three tiers of steps that double as the benches where only 3 others have perched themselves. I pull my love by the hand behind me and move us to the top where we settle near a window looking out onto the woods. She’s claustrophobic and I know this is the best way for her to relax in this box. For a moment I try and figure out how the steam is kept from fogging up the glass on the window pane.

My thinking is interrupted as the sun comes out and I see her caught in its beam. My breath is knocked out of me I stare in disbelief. With the sudden sunlight, the tiles in the Turkish Bath create the illusion of moving water as the steam shifts and dissipates and is then re-launched into the small space after the massive glass door “suctions cups” shut.
 
My lover leans against the window and the light makes her seem … other worldly. The tiny water beads over her delicate skin seem like a thousand little diamonds. Her big eyes open and stare at me staring at her and I wonder what she sees. I can’t resist and I lean in and kiss her. I touch her; caress her in the oppressive heat. Her smile and sigh a reward beyond hope.

1:00 p.m. “I need air” I manage to whisper without coughing. He nods in agreement, although I am reluctant to let his fingers slide away from the inside of my thighs. His caress had been getting more and more intimate and my body is tingling from top to bottom with desire. I had enjoyed the privacy the steam provided but the closed space and thick air was beginning to make me feel crushed. It was time to get out before a sudden desire to scream took over.

We step outside and the summer day seems almost cool. But not as cold as what is facing us.

Roaring before our eyes is a waterfall. Not massive in size but impressive in power. My handsome and fearless man wades right into the water and stands under the thumping weight of the ice cold “shower”. His grin tells me all I need to know. It’s cold. More than cold it’s freezing, sub zero, should be solid ice, cold. I cringe. I hate the cold.

Grabbing my courage by the horns and wrestling with it I walk into the pool and drop to below the water level and try to count to 10. I can’t do it … by 8 I am walking out and shivering.

He laughs and starts to reach for me to pull me under the gushing water; I manage to just slip away avoiding the cruel and unusual punishment he had in store for me. Instead he follows me to the relaxation area.

1:15 p.m. I see the large Fat Boy for two and can’t resist. My Love is wrapped in her robe trying to ward off the feeling of cold that has crept into her bones. I, on the other hand, love it. My skin tingles and I feel so alive! I just want to nuzzle her and touch her. Those bean bags look perfect for that.

We settle and I am pleased at how comfortable they are. Nothing like the lumps of synthetic fabric of old, these are heavy duty and stay up and support. We cuddle in the center, legs entangled, with her head on my chest. Her little cold nose is buried between my pecks as she tries to recover from the ice bath. Her hands have made their way to my swim trunks and I feel the delicate play of her fingertips down on my cock head.

There’s no way I can stand up now. I hear her giggle as if she’d heard my thought. I look down and see the playful radiance all over her. Oh damn … I’m in trouble. God I want her so badly … her fingers are ummm …. warming up.
 

1:30 p.m. Our robes are providing some privacy from onlookers. I can feel the sudden surge in his trunks under my playful tease. I giggle a moment thinking of the Seinfeld episode the words “shrinkage” echoing in my head. There doesn’t seem to be a problem here anymore.

An older couple walks by and the lady looks at me knowingly I flash a smile back and she walks away, a prudish stance in her step. I wonder when was the last time a lover took her passionately and made her body rejoice with life. I hope that’s never me. I snuggle into my love. My hand now firmly wrapped around his hot warmth. We sigh. And surprisingly … dose.

2:00 p.m. We’ve slept a little past our next round. But the deep relaxation beginning to enter my body tells me this is all just too perfect. I lean into my sweetheart’s ears and whisper as quietly as I can. She nods and we move on.

The sauna waits.

The room is large. A massive floor to ceiling window overlooking the baths makes this sauna a bright and pleasant space. I see her shoulders relax as the heat warms her up finally and the smell of warm wood fills our noses.

She loves sauna’s but always struggles with the small confined space. This one seems custom built for her. She grins. I kiss her deeply right there.

We walk quietly to a lower bench. I sit and she lies down next to me, her head in my lap. It’s not usual Sauna protocol; it’s obvious by the eyes around the room trying not to stare at the open display of affection. But I don’t care. I let my fingers caress the little stray curls out of her face, my hand finds her shoulders and massages gently. She stretches out like a cat and moans very quietly. Every move she makes, and every one of my touches is sensual and we both know its foreplay. Yet – we aren’t doing anything wrong or crass.

2:15 p.m. The beads of sweat have formed on my skin and it’s time for the dreaded cold part again. I feel a little braver this time – since we aren’t going to the ice bath but the temperate one. I can manage that. I slide in and clench my teeth but go all the way in, the cold water envelopes my body like an icy lover. I shiver.

I  feel the warmth of his arms around me as he holds me to him in the water. I wrap my legs around his waste, and lean my head on his shoulder and let him hold me there in the water so I don’t wimp out and leave too early. He tries to distract me with gentle kisses. “I’m cold …” with that, he puts me down and, wading out, we then cross over to the warm hot tub.

2:30 p.m. The warm bubbling water rushes over us and I feel the slight shock of the cold to warm that for now seems too hot. My skin loves this and I feel utterly energized.

I make my way to the bench where the jets are strong and powerful. She follows me obviously much happier in the warm water. We settle and find jets to knead away at whatever muscles are sore. She sinks in finding one to handle her tight shoulders. I find one just at the right level to hit that tension in my lower back. In silence we relax.

I’m startled by her hand making its way up my shorts. She has moved closer and a naughty twinkle in her eye tells me I’m done dosing off.

I bring her in and hold her in my arms like a babe. Her eyes flash wide open as she realizes why I have done this. The jet that had been massaging my lower back is now straight on, full strength, on her clit. A sudden flush rises to her cheeks as she tries to wiggle out of the way, but I hold her almost by force. She wraps her arms around me neck “but I’m going to ….” I hold her even tighter. Her body is responding and I’m not letting her out of this one. I hold her and she gives up fighting me.

She’s sweet in my arms. All her soft skin and warm curves are trembling. I hold her and listen to her breath rise a little. It doesn’t take long. I see the muscles in her arms as she holds me tight and her inner thighs tremble in a tell tale way. I know not to leave her there too long else it get painful. I move. She relaxes in my arms. The flush of an orgasm on her face, eyes closed she languidly rests in my arms. I love her. The way she can come like that is remarkable. I have never known a woman that could so easily just let go.
 

2:45 p.m. I lift my hand to his face, and show him my raisin fingers. It’s time to get out of the water. We make our way to the quiet room. It’s a large space with two rows of wall to wall “bunk beds” of sorts. All made of the same wood as the sauna with thick water resistant cushions. They are all very open to sight except for one.

Almost like an after thought – one bunk is almost above the entrance door. It’s angle making it far more private. Without having to even confer, we both make our way up the little wooden ladder and settle in our nook. There is a person straight across from us, we nod in salutation and tightening our fluffy robes around us, face to face we lay down to nap.

I can’t help but want to play with him. But our roommate makes it impossible for me to do more than caress his chest and play with his hair. I let myself snuggle up and dose off.

*thunck-a-thunck-a-thunck*

I open my eyes. His breathing is soft. He’s half asleep. I look up a little and …. we are alone.

I turn around so that my ass is in his crotch and grind into him a few times. His arm wraps around my waist and he presses into me. I snake my hand behind my back at an awkward angle, let it slide under his waist band and find his already hard cock waiting eagerly for my touch. He presses his lips into my neck and his entire body into mine, making movement with my arm impossible. I whisper “Move back love”. The few extra inches of space give me just enough room to start a gentle up and down.

I’ve never – to date – been able to make him come with a hand job or blow job. It’s not me. I know that. He’s just not “wired” that way. I’ve had enough lovers to know that my skill in those areas is not shabby. Some would even say I even excel at it. But the doubt starts to nag at the back of my mind, my self-confidence taking its beating. I start. I have time, he’s relaxed and horny. Maybe this time ….?

3:00 p.m. I can’t believe how good it feels. Her hand firm but soft around my member. I can sense pleasure stirring in my loins. I don’t think I’ll come here in a public place. But damn it feels good. I’m just going to relax and enjoy what she wants to do to me. Damn ….

3:15 p.m. My arm and hand are really starting to hurt. I move, and turn to face him. Holding myself up on my left elbow, I undo the velcro and strings that hold his swim shorts closed and release his shaft. There’s a thrill. We are relatively exposed. All it would take is one person to want to come in from the sun outside and relax in the space to see us. The thrill seems to add an edge to everything. I let my right hand continue where the left hand had left off.

I kiss him as my hand works its way up and down his cock. I hear his breath change dramatically and I don’t dare hope. We’ve been here before. I don’t break rhythm and just continue. My kiss becomes more aggressive, I nibble and bite and cover his face with my breath, and my hand never stops.

3:25 p.m. Its starts like a memory in the back of my mind. I can’t stop it – like a heard of wild horses coming over the horizon and suddenly my body arches as I feel the rush of orgasm like a thousand hooves.  Her mouth over mine muffles the animal growl that has come from deep inside my gut and I explode all over her hand and my stomach.

3:35 p.m. “Oh you’re happy now aren’t you” I say breathlessly as I see her eyes gleaming and I can almost see her patting herself on the back. I must admit that was well done. I came from a hand job. I can’t remember the last time that happened. She’s cleaning me up with the small hand towel we’ll toss in the hamper on our way out. I can feel her happy little finger tying up my strings and the velcro. She even pats me on the chest with a “there now …” Oh yes, she’s pleased with herself all right and that’s potentially dangerous for me.

3:45 p.m. It’s time for our massages, before we do one more round and go home. I am beaming. I just knew … I knew I could do it. We climb down the ladder, him first and I follow.  Just then a female staff member walks in. As my love walks out, she looks at me, at the flush of our cheeks and the grin on my face and she knows. I can see her trying to think of something to say or do and as I come shoulder to shoulder with her I lean over, and whisper in her ear:

“Prove it”.

January 17, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 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

Love(h)er

nude shadowThere she was taller then most men I know. Long and lean, walking like an alabaster Amazon. She was always graceful, her lithe body feline and supple. Everything about her radiated confidence. Her flaming red hair, the olive green eyes that crinkled when she smiled; a grin that was a secret weapon unleashed on us poor unsuspecting souls. It won you over, instantly, irrevocably and drew you in like a cat to a sunbeam.

Everyone she met liked her instantly. Me? She made my heart stop, my knees weak and my lungs unable to draw air. I forgot who I was, how to breath … to me she was magic. Her stride full of purpose, as only a person used to getting her way can adopt, but not a bully. Her hands fluttering like caged birds as she spoke with assurance to those who crossed her path. Absolutely unique.

Her face lit up when she entered the dressing room. My inner thighs now predictably damp under my skirt. Anticipation? I always enjoyed our first encounter of the day. Her arms opening wide, as I flashed my own smile and moments later was engulfed in her warm greeting. I could loose myself in her scent. Her odor, her smooth skin cool and fresh, and her tresses tickling my nose drove my brain to a frenzy. It was heaven. Her large breasts against my more modest ones; nipples kissing through fabric in their own “hello“. I closed my eyes, lived the instant fully knowing it to be all to brief. A small sigh escaped her lips as she pulled away. Did I really hear that? Was her hold on my arm a second too long? Did I see desire in her stare?

She flopped in the chair, deftly pulling her mane out of the way into a high ponytail so that I may start her makeup application. She had been the understudy, stepping in at the very last moment on opening night of the show. Owing her debut to a tragic death in the family of the leading performer. I reminisced, thinking back to that night, how nervous she had been. I had smoothed her nerves, rubbing her shoulders, and helping her into her costume, touching up her make-up as she radiated determination, resolve and fear. I spoke to her about the history of make-up, rambling with my own nervous energy. We had in-avertedly bonded that night.

An acrobat and actress of extraordinary skill; she had been a huge hit, and after 12 shows it was decided she would stay on as the lead. She had earned the honor but was aware that tragedy had also played a hand in her favor and remained gracious and humble. I remembered her bounding into the dressing room after the news to find me, thanking me and hugging me. I had been perplexed; all I had done was natter on. She had explained that my talking had soothed her. That my “enlightening” her on an unrelated subject had provided her mind with the escape necessary to not focused on how unprepared she felt. She insisted that I had been key to her success that night, and that she owe me a great debt.

I shook my head, releasing myself from the clouds of the past. I was only the make-up artist. Preferring the backstage world to the bright lights. Too shy for an audience. I loved being a part of the magic – but did not feel the need for acknowledgement. Not modesty. No… that would be a lie. Just a love for anonymity.

She relaxed into her seat, seeming to enjoy the feel of my brushes, sponges and fingers on her skin, face, neck …. upper chest. I leaned in a little closer, detailed work requiring I do so. I could smell the scent of hot chocolate on her breath, making me smile. I realized then that if I only pursed my lips, our cupids bows would meet. They were like perfect reflections in a mirror, wholly identical. Our noses would not collide, hers had a slight uplift, giving her an air of nobility, mine was small and soft.

“You going to kiss me?” I looked up into her eyes, her earthy tone a contrast to my sky blue ones. I could not decide if she was teasing, asking or daring me. I blushed prettily and went back to work as a knot in my stomach, took hold, pulling me into despair. I had let the opportunity pass me by and I knew it. My heart sank to my knees.

That night, like every night, I sat in our dressing room on a stool, seeing in my minds eye every moment she was on stage unfold like a silent movie. I was there for emergency touch ups, wardrobe malfunctions and other such tasks. A show of this size required that many of us expand on our responsibilities and include tasks that do not fall in our job descriptions. I had the lucky privilege of being assigned exclusively to her. Dedicated to our Star. I could vaguely hear the audience swoon, cry, laugh and gasp. If only they knew how amazing she was in real life they would love her, not just admire her. I had seen the show a hundred times or more and even I was sucked in night after night. I knew she added a little to her performance every time. No two deliveries were the same. She was worthy of the accolades.

Having wiped the stage make-up from her face, and assisted her out of her costume that was like a second skin, I went home alone. I had seen her naked so many times, but I never grew tired of the sight. I loved how flushed she was from the effort. Her white flesh splotched in little red patches that somehow were strategically placed as if to only enhance her curves. Mother Nature had really been generous with this creature. I reveled in the sight and night after night, once I was in the safety of my bed , I fell asleep touching myself playing in my head different scenarios where my courage did not fail me and I would take her.

I walked in early the next day as I always do, enjoying the solitude before the mad rush and chaos of the others. The calm before the storm of actors, acrobats, light and backstage crew. The peace before the near panic energy that infected us all like a pandemic before the show. I hummed a little tune I had heard on the radio as I laid out my materials, cleaned brushes and tidied up the table that was allocated to me. To us.

“You have a lovely voice you know…” I spun around startled. She stood there is a summer dress, long legs bare with curving delicious lines, and simple sandals on her slightly calloused feet. She had nothing on her face. Just her own extraordinary natural beauty. Her peaches and cream skin speaking for itself, her face a glow of health. I usually felt such a thrill in applying make-up; but with her, it always seemed more like a crime.

“We alone?” she chirped.
I nodded.
“Strong silent type today, huh?”
I grinned and replied,
“Well, you know me …. You never know what you will get”
“Yes, that is very true. Unpredictable. I like that about you … I …. like you.”

My heart stopped. I froze. Was I actually hearing what I thought I was hearing? Or was I in bed masturbating lost in an all too real fantasy driving my clit to release? My hands trembled and I dropped the bottle of cleaner to the floor. She walked up, let her arms wrap around my waste, and whispered into my ear as the small hairs there rose up to her lips:
“I am not just imagining your attraction am I? You do like me this way … yes? Oh God …. Please …. Please say something ?”
I shook, lost for words. The vulnerability in her voice throwing me off completely. I felt utterly ill equipped to see her this way. She let go a little, suddenly uncertain and whimpered:
“Yesterday …. You ….I thought you …..Oh I … sorry … I thought …. I was so sure …..”
I turned around within her embrace, saw tears forming in her eyes, it broke my heart and broke the ice – I leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips.

The dam broke.

I let my hands ride up her thighs and hesitated a moment. She did not stop me. I was drunk with desire as the satin softness of her skin quivered bellow my palm. She moaned and let her forehead rest against mine. I caressed her ass, feeling diaphanous satin underpants stretched across the round cheeks of her backside. I wanted more. Pulling a strap off her shoulder, I released her breasts to my view as they swung in bounding arcs. She leaned forward, came closer as I pressed my lips onto one of the soft pillows, while she tried to force more of her mammary into my sucking mouth. She dropped her hands, expertly unhooked my bras releasing my own mounds from inside my camisole. Her fingers latched on to my nipple pinching it into hardness.

We kissed, caressed and murmured words of affection for what seemed an eternity. My hand slid into her crotch, her red-haired cunt was just visible from my viewpoint as it strained and pulled against my fingers. Her legs parted. I gripped her panties and followed them down as I slid them off her long sinewy legs. She kicked them free and spread her legs even further as my fingers pushed the lips apart to reveal her crimsoned clit. My tongue lashed out and brushed solidly against the hanging pussy lips, my open mouth clamped hungrily onto the wetness, sucking, licking, lapping the hole into heated fury.

She reluctantly pushed me away, her whole frame trembling with unreleased excitement and pleasure. “No … I want to enjoy you … please?” She pulled my camisole off, and unzipped my skirt and let it fall with my thong to the ground. She looked at me, smiling “Your beautiful… so beautiful …wow…” I was shocked. Me? Beautiful? Pretty perhaps, but beautiful? She kept whispering it over and over. I didn’t dare move. She walked around me, letting her hands glide and create little paths of goose bumps along my skin. Like ants creating a highway to bring food back and forth she drew lines of exquisite pleasure across my flesh. Bending her fashionable body until her flawless nose came into contact with the two cheeks of my full, ripe ass. She spread the heaps of soft flesh apart, stretching the crack wide, laying the brown cluster of the anus open to quick licks of her darting tongue.

I almost lost all resolve and melted like a dollop of butter on hot fresh pancakes.  But her hand held me up, locking my knees for me. She pointed her tongue and pressed against the taut tight hole. No one had ever done that and I was certain that the sensation was more then I could manage until her tongue slipped inside. I did collapse then to the ground. I lay there whimpering as she held me a moment in her arms. Tears of joy running down my face. She kissed them away “my lovely princess … “ she murmured sending my heart into flights of both elation and fright. Her hand wandered, her fingers feverishly lashing out to briskly rub across the pinched, hard nipples and move on to my small open cunt. My hips lifted as she pressed her hand into the moist trap. She drove one, two, three fingers deep inside, the lips moved apart, straining, and dripping fluids.

She shifted slightly, putting herself in position, spread the vagina lips open with her fingers and finally plunged her face into the slippery juices. She drove her tongue far inside, her fingers still working in and out in a come hither movement over and over…. Driving my small hips into wilder erratic humping. Her other hand stroked my stomach, or reached for a breast. I seemed so small in her embrace. I felt her teeth grate against my hard clit, her tongue spanked my cunt walls and I suddenly bolted, bucked, humped, pounded my juices into her eager sucking mouth, grabbing the top of her head I held on to her hair.

My hands tore, squeezed my breasts; she pulled her fingers almost out of my crotch and put them back in fully inundated with juices .  My slender, if not long, legs flexed, tensed before they kicked, jerked, bent and twisted. She kept her tongue deep inside as she felt the groping spasms send floods of wetness into her mouth. I screamed as I came and climaxed violently, uninhibited, total.

Moments later she held me in her arms, as I let my fingers explore her in awe … tears still streaming.
“You ok?”
I nodded .
“Quiet again huh?”
I grinned remaining silent.
“We should get dressed”. She said then seeing a question on my lips.
“Shhhh … consider this a small token towards a debt repaid. … ” She got up, held out a hand and pulled me to her. Her lips met mine in one last kiss before show time.

© 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.

June 6, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Lust, romance, Sensual, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments