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

Nothing

I am not certain how it all came to an end.

… and perhaps that is not entirely true.

Perhaps I always knew it would.

Our story had been one of so many layers and passions. The stuff that movies are made of. Some clichés and some unique to us. All of it wrapped up in a wonderful sense of having found that lost soul mate. The one. That elusive other half.

It had started a year ago. I had been at the office and flirting outrageously with a colleague of mine and a little flustered from it all. I had returned to my desk to try and get some work done between cheeky e-mails and visits to his cubicle, when I heard the most lovely voice. I stood up and peered above the partition to see where it was coming from… this lovely lilt between English and French.

At first all I saw was glorious hair. Dark, black, lazy curls, white hairs giving it that suave and debonair feel so many find charming, including myself. He was talking to that colleague I had been flirting with so I invited myself over. As I approached he left, almost walking into me. Damn he smelled good. He excused himself with a light laugh and sauntered off. I sat myself down in my colleague’s spare chair and said “Who the fuck was that?”. He laughed nervously. Teetering between having fun with my obvious interest and feeling – what seemed to be – suddenly threatened. I didn’t care. I wanted answers.

Turns out we did a lot of the same things. Worked out at the same gym, had tea at the same coffee house and enjoyed the same events. After my colleague introduced us I had a reason to approach him. We spoke…. and spoke… and spoke. It was as if everyone else became inconsequential. It was like a thousand conversations that had been secretly dormant awoke at last with the sound of his voice and interest – finally I had a person to hear and so it gushed. We would talk about everything and nothing. More often something. Politics, art, work, health and nutrition and of our anxieties and dreams. We laughed, we got animated and passionate. We lost track of time to our employers’ annoyance.

People started talking but we didn’t care. After all “nothing” was going on between us.

Then one sunny day, when I was off but he had to work, I surprised him with a picnic. “Oh come on … you have to eat!“ I had said. He’d agreed as long as we did keep an eye on the time. That day everything changed. I stopped being the hunter and just inexplicably allowed myself to just … be. I opened up to him like a desert flower to sudden rain. He fell in love.

We fought it. Our situation was one that did not bode well for us. But the genuine affection, immense compatibility and simple joy we had in being in each others presence had been too much for us to resist. We succumbed and fell further and further. Months of hiding, whispering, teasing and intense love making. Moments of heady delight followed by deep sorrow. An emotional rollercoaster that drove us to insanity and fed our need to feel alive.

For a time we soared above it all. With the bright promise of a better future and then – the day it all crashed. The day he went back to her. Her depression a more binding set of chains than our love could free him from. He had to care for her… that day he gave up on life and chose death. That day his misplaced loyalty made him choose an existence of silent misery. That day I stopped respecting him. That day my heart broke forever.

Now here we are

… face to face.

For the last time.

I sit on the bed uncertain – a first in your presence. I am not sure why I am here. I am not sure why I agreed to this. The pain in my chest so intense I am convinced that you can see my heart actually bleeding there, leaving a pool of red hot blood at your feet. I feel like a sacrifice.

You are awkward but somehow determined to have this “farewell love making”. Your hand reaches out and caresses my face. I sob at the feelings that surge forward. I hold that hand in place. Not wanting to let go yet hating it at the same time, remembering how much joy that gesture had provided only days ago. Your fingers wash away my tears. Your own eyes shedding their fair share.

You hold me then, tightly to you. I pound my fist angrily over and over leaving a bruise above your heart. You let me. You deserve it. I cry out your name in a lament, I kiss you, bite your lip so hard it bleeds. You take it. I pull your t-shirt off above your shoulders. I look at this body I have come to love and adore. My heart shatters anew as I realize that I shall never touch it, caress it and have it’s weight crush my breasts again.

I pull off my own blouse. You reach for me. Pull me towards you. You whisper in my ear words I do not whish to hear. No… I will not forgive you. Not now. Not now. Your caress is familiar and my body responds. I feel betrayed by it. My heart screams at my body:

“ How can you let yourself feel this way, how can you want him when he doesn’t want me!?”

You lay me down. I let you kiss me, your hands and lips know what to do. You know every button to push and every caress that will elicit a response. You have become the expert driver of my pleasuring. I close my eyes and try to block out the pain. I can’t.

I let you do this. To punish myself for letting the fool within believe. For falling for it all. For the false hope I clung to. Letting you do this is like flagellation. I let you. I let you ease your finger into me, I let you take your time tasting the freshness of my young cunt. I let you drive your tongue into the lump of my clitoris and let you feel my hips instantly jerk with abandon.

I let you push me to my hands and knees. I feel you behind me. I let you bring the flared shaft up to the moist lips. With your steady, even drive I let you enter me for the last time. I let your hands cup my swaying breasts and I work your cock at a steady rhythm. The inner walls shudder with the final betrayal of my body, as an orgasm floods me.

But you are not done. My punishment for my folly not over. You throw all your weight behind each jamming thrust. At last, on a river of jerking, pumping, heaving climax …. It is over.

We lay for a time frozen in place. As you hold me to you. Falling on our sides, my face buried in your chest, you say the last words that hit the final nail in the coffin. “I love you”.

With that you get up, dress and walk away towards the hotel door. You stop, looking back. Tears in your eyes you mumble “I’m so sorry”. And you leave.

Lying on the bed, I almost feel like I’ve just let you rape me. My self respect shattered, my heart never to be fixed. At first nothing. No more tears. Then as I feel the last residue of your juices leak out like a last bitter farewell a wail of agony rips through my throat and the tears freely flow from me. I am broken, pathetic and alone. The crisp white sheets of the hotel bed suddenly a thousand knives slicing my skin and soul. This once joyous place of reunion now a prison of shame.

I was the other woman. Now … I am nothing.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
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August 3, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments