Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Toy Chest Series – Size Matters?

Here is the thing. I have always liked to read a review for a product before purchase, but I must admit, sex toy reviews are rather predictable and boring (sorry!). Then my amazingly talented and fun fellow blogger Lexi sent me the name of a toy supplier looking for folks to review their products for free. The stars were aligned! So what to do? Do things the Fantasia way of course! The idea for the “Toy Chest Series” was born.

The stories are my take on product review. They are anecdotal re-tellings of how things unfolded. As per usual, some fiction is tossed in for good measure. The likes and dislikes will always be incorporated into the tale as well as an image of the product and where it was or can be purchased should you want to try it for yourself. The stories will sometimes be funny, and sometimes just plain hot.

Some of these toys I already own (wait for the We Vibe II!!) others are new (like this one). Please let me know what you think of this approach and if it‘s a project worth continuing!

Pillow Talk Press presents:

“Size Matters?” a Toy Chest Series tale

Walking to the post office armed with the mail delivery slip, she hoped The Adult Toy Shoppe had been honest when they said the package would be discreet. Trying not to blush ahead of time she handed the geeky teenage employee the little paper and waited.

The first surprise was the size of the box. For a moment she looked at her lover.

“Maybe it’s not what we thought Love ….” she signed for the package and while she was there took advantage and mailed off her tax returns.

He held the box reading the labels.

“It says bathroom accessories on the content list – you order something like that?”

She shook her head in the negative and as they left the office he ripped into the top of the box. She heard him whistle.

“What?” she asked.

All he did in response was let her peak inside for her second surprise.

“Holly fuck …” was all she could say.

“I think I am a tad intimidated at this point” he said laughing his big kid laugh before putting the box in the back seat of the car.

“There is no way in hell that’s going up my ass – or yours!” he added.

Originally the idea of getting the double sided 18” long and flexible dildo was to be able to have it inside her – and him – at the same time so they could fuck each other in mutual penetration. It seemed at this point that there had been a small miscalculation. Obviously she hadn’t looked at the pictures on the site properly to gage the enormity of “it“.

They drove around for the rest of the afternoon doing errands. Every now and then she’d open the box and take a look. “It” was huge. There really was no other way of putting it. Her Lover was grinning, and uncomfortable all at once. She had to admit to herself she felt the same way. She was a little excited and absolutely terrified at the damage the thing might be capable of.

“You are going to need some serious lube Hon” he kept repeating at seemingly random moments. Yes … yes she was.

Once home, they opened the clear plastic surround. The most annoying scent of rubber or plastic with what might be a hint of strawberries filled the room.

“Uh …yuck… you better wash that!”

Off he went. In the meantime, she got undressed and climbed into bed. She couldn’t even bring herself to masturbate – she lay there waiting for “it” to return. In a way they were almost clinical in the approach, that made her chuckle – she could visualize a bunch of scientists in their white coats scratching their heads.

“How do we insert that thing inside without ripping everything?” She burst out laughing.

Her nerves were shaky it would seem.  Her mind went from one thing to another and she found herself reminded of a time long ago when she had a one night stand with a man “hung” the same way. It had been a disappointing evening with him counting on his length and girth to do the job. It had left her sore and unsatisfied. She was suddenly filled with trepidation.

Her lover came back into the room, his half smile just that – a half smile. Why men felt that way when confronted with something – or someone – larger she could not understand. There was no way the cold toy could hold her, love her and be warm and “just so” the way he could. This was a toy, an extension of him – not competition. She hoped he’d see that – and soon.

Without much foreplay, the liquid silk was pulled out and liberally applied to toy and twat. Her fingers found her clit and on her back, legs up, ass up, she presented her delicate flower to him. He grinned now. He was convinced it would not fit, even after she told him that was nonsense that women’s cunts were designed to expand.

Sure enough, the damn thing slid right in. His eyes grew bigger.

“Ok .. That’s … woa … babe – that’s hot.” The site of her pussy stretching to accommodate the 1 ½ inches diameter was a thrill, he found himself getting erect. She watched him grin, and had to admit… the damn thing still smelled but it felt good. She could feel all the “ribbed for her pleasure” bumps and veins. She was aware of her cunt clasping down on it. It was tight, it filled her up.

“Hold on” she said and leaving it in, she flipped over. In what they called “downward dog” a sort of doggy style but with her face buried in the mattress or pillow, her hand snaked under where she let her fingers work her clit into a frenzy.

Her lover looked at the site before him.

Her round firm ass, her tender lips stretched to the max, and this long snaking pink dildo like an extra appendage just hanging there. He grabbed it. The extra length was indeed handy. Most dildo’s and vibrators are to short to really go to town, but this thing had room to spare. He wrapped both hands around it and leaving 8” inside of her he started a gentle come and go, bringing it almost out, then sliding it back in. He went on and on relentlessly.

“It’s cold … not like you” she moaned into the pillow. He pulled it out and, let himself slide in. He was surprised to find that it was still nice and tight, her cunt clasping at his dick in a most pleasing manner. She moaned in pleasure, but he pulled out and put the toy back in.

Her face in the soft cotton, she focused on the sensation of pleasure mounting inside of her. She could feel it – the orgasm was almost there, but he would change the rhythm ever so slightly and her release would hover just out of reach. More lube was applied and the back and forth went on, he worked her like a pro – wielding this saber like the best of Jedi’s.

It hit her hard. The moan so loud every other unit on their floor must of heard her come. He pushed it all the way in and let her muscles spasm all over it.

She collapsed to the bed.

“woa ….” was all she muttered.

He was hard and in need, she let him slide in and he felt good. His arms around her, the scruffiness of his unshaven face, the smell of his body next to hers. She felt loved, cherished as his breath caught. But he struggled to achieve orgasm. She wasn’t sure if it was the presence of “it” in the room or the fact that he’d already come twice earlier that day.

He flopped onto his back and she kissed him sweetly. She rose as she saw his hand reach for his dick. He started to masturbate in his most aggressive way. He was going to orgasm if he had to beat his cock into submission to do so. Lifting herself up she straddled then sat on his face.

He smelled her cunt, the smell of rubber or silicon or whatever “it” was made of. He tasted her but could not breath. Her open pussy engulfed his mouth and nose and she wasn’t moving. He could feel his lungs constricting, begging for air, his toes curled and just as he thought he might pass out his jism erupted out of him. At that moment she lifted herself off.

His orgasm was delicious as the air entered his lungs. He shivered, moaned and was spent.

She cleaned him up, and took the toy to the bathroom to wash it and let it soak then returned to her lovers side, curled up and the two dosed off in satisfied slumber.

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

March 28, 2010 Posted by | erotica, Lust, Toy CHest | , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Wishful Thinking – A Dream

He sat back in his chair, took a deep lazy drag of his cigar, tilted his head and let out a thick stream of dense smoke. Staring kindly at the individual sitting across from him, he marvelled at how odd life could be and at the twists and turns along the way. His past had already been peppered with particularly unusual moments. This was one of those moments. He focused on the young man’s words.

“Good luck with her” a tone of bitterness slipping into his youthful voice.
“Luck?” he asked taking another drag and sitting back.
“She’s had two husbands to date – what makes you think you’ll fair better than us?”
“Ah” he nodded.
“Ah? I’d think you arrogant if I had a mind to” the young man replied, a nervous laugh betraying his calm demeanour.
“There is one fundamental difference between us you know” This time he picked up his drink, stared a long time at the amber color before taking a sip.
“Oh really? Care to share?” the young man said with a touch of cynicism.
“Certainly. We make different assumptions.” Setting the tumbler down carefully on the glass patio table he closed his eyes enjoying the warm sun on his face.
“You know what they say about assumptions ….” The young man replied waving his hand in dismissal.
“You assumed she’d stay no matter what”.
“We were married man – was that wrong?”
“Yes”
“Jesus! And you don’t? That’s a tad masochistic isn’t it?”
“I have the bite marks to prove it. But back to the point … It’s not that I think she’ll leave me”
“Oh? Now I’m confused”
“You assumed she’d stay – I assume she’s bored”.
Silence lingered between them with the cigar smoke and smell of whiskey a strong contrast to the heady scent of Lilac in the air.
“Huh” the young man nodded.

He never thought he’d be sitting there sharing a glass of whiskey with her husband – a whiskey brought back from a trip the two of them had enjoyed together in Scotland, sitting in the yard of the house they had called home for over 9 years and more unbelievably, smoking a cigar that this young man had brought back from his last trip to Cuba – for him – the new man in his wife’s life. He had been surprised at the maturity in that gesture. The fellow was 14 years younger and yet had displayed in that instant more spine and understanding then most men twice his age. He had been impressed and gone from not understanding what she had seen in him to deep respect. Something had changed; a tiny door of acceptance had opened and now they both danced around it carefully trying to find out what this meant for either of them.

He had been astonished at how little they had in common. How could one woman love two such utterly opposite men? This young man, apart from playing volleyball, was more into spectator sports – watching hockey, football, formula one and all sorts of TV on top of that, he ate fast food without question, was naturally slim and was younger than her by two years. In contrast he himself was more into actively “doing” the sports, going to the gym, rock climbing, scuba diving and soccer, didn’t even have cable and was what some would consider a health nut where food was concerned. He worked hard at keeping his body fit and was 12 years older than she. Those were just the obvious things seen at the surface. The more you dug the more you could see the differences. They both had thick hair and strong facial lines – other than that … the only thing they had in common – was her.

As if summoned by his thoughts she appeared form the kitchen with an empty tray and walked over. Her hair recently cut short still surprised him, and he read the same thought on her husbands face. She’d had it long for nearly 20 years. She nervously shifted from one foot to the other – clearing the empty glasses off the table, unintentionally letting the sun backlight her and showing off her long legs under her cotton summer dress. The young mans gaze looked straight into his own. Unintentionally? They both grinned and chuckled … no perhaps not.

Her time had come to leave the house, collecting the last little bits that were her own; she came back from dropping a small bag of things in the trunk of the car parked on the interlock driveway she had installed herself, so many years ago. The house having sold at last she collected the last of her things. Her husband was taking the week to sort himself out before the new owners moved in.

Walking to the car, he sat in the driver’s seat and watched her from a distance. The front door was open and he saw her hand sliding lovingly along the solid oak banister, her eyes filling up with tears in a final farewell to a house she had renovated lovingly for over 10 years. She had put her soul into the place and letting go had been tough. She stood on the front porch – and looking her husband in the eye she simply said “I am sorry”. He shrugged. An awkward moment followed and then he grabbed her, held her tight, hugged her. They cried a moment and then he let her go. Walking ahead of her to the car he popped his head in the open passenger window.

“Take care of her you hear me?”
“I will”
“I am dead serious man – you hurt her ….”
“She’s more likely to hurt me …”
He started laughing and stepped away opening the door for her. The door slammed shut. This was it. It really was over and they both knew it. Divorce papers would follow in time. It was now up to them to decide if they wanted to remain friends or just let the other disappear and become a pleasant memory of their past. Observing the young man he barely knew, he sincerely hoped they’d remain friends.

Driving along the back roads, he looked at her from time to time. She was uncharacteristically silent. He wasn’t certain if she was sad or what emotion was flowing through her. She neither laughed nor cried. That worried him. She was the type to wear her feelings on her face. But he remained quiet. He was there if she needed him. Her hand slide onto his thigh and squeezed it as if she’d read his mind. He looked at her again, and saw the faintest of smiles.

He spontaneously decided to take them for a country drive and for an hour he let the road take them where it would. She remained quiet just looking out the window. Spring was nearly over; the ground littered with the carpet of petals from fruit trees and the blush of early spring green being replaced by the darker hues of summer. They past a lake sparkling like a diamond in the sun with its surface shimmering and nearly blinding him. The deep, dark indigo water still looked frigid as a lone canoe punctured the tableau with its fresh vibrant red markings. He looped the car around and found a spot to park. Opening the windows, they looked at nature’s masterpiece in silence breathing in the fragrant breeze.

Her hand then wondered a little. His cock shifted slightly. He tried not to let it rise. But it did. It wasn’t appropriate but ….

Suddenly she was practically in his lap. Her lips on his, her hands pulling at his clothing and he was so startled he couldn’t respond. She pressed on, holding his hand to her breast. She let out a deep sigh when his fingers dug deeply into the soft pillows. Feeling like a teenager at a make-out point, he threw himself into the same spring fevered frenzy she was displaying. Clothing came off haphazardly, gear shift dug in all the wrong places but somehow, they found a way and she straddled him in the front seat and let him slide deeply into her crying cunt. The pressing need, hurried hunger and speed did not relent. The push for orgasm, the drive to feel alive, all continued in wild abandon as each reached higher and higher towards that one moment when – at last – she screamed her pain, her agony, her sense of loss and cried with tears of joy at the new beginning erupting within her, within her life, within her soul.

Panting, they sat there letting their heart beats slow and the sweat cool. He kissed her on the forehead and gently pulled an errand curl from her forehead. Cupping her face in both his hands, he kissed her lightly – then deeply. Not letting her go he asked gently…

“You alright now?”

She kissed him back, a wide smile on her lips and nodded before snuggling into his neck to her favourite “sweet” spot. He held her and grinned to himself. Never a dull moment.

March 24, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Outdoors | , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Real World be Damned

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So about dinner…”

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

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

Alliance Series – Ball In Your Court

Faithful Readers,

A new year starts for Pillow Talk Press and with it two new projects. One project is called “Toy Chest” and you will just have to wait a little longer for that reveal.

But my dearest friends, I am thrilled and pleased beyond belief to share with you the first entry of this wonderful collection of stories – inspired by the joys of blind collaboration – called “Alliance Series”.

These stories go back and forth without discussion or planning leaving the plot to develop in rather surprising ways.

The ever talented blogger and erotic writer Smokedawg agreed to be the first and I must admit the thrill of this story was enormous. To work with such talent, to not know where the story was going to go – not to mention the fun of trying to outmaneuver and surprise the other … made this more fun than I ever anticipated. More important, the quality of this story is such that I am beyond proud to share it with you.

Enjoy it, and see if you can see where my entries began and where smokedawg took over etc. I believe our styles flowed and merged most perfectly.

As such … please … without further delay:

Pillow Talk Press Presents – an Alliance Series Tale

Ball In Your Court

By Fantasia Lillith and Smokedawg

 

She bent over, giving him a wonderful view of her tight muscles and infinitely long legs. She grinned into her own cleavage, taking her time picking up the ball, knowing full well his eyes would be going where his hands so urgently desired to caress. She had only taken up tennis because she found the outfits cute; the fact that she had a wicked and terrifying back hand was just one of those accidental talents she added to her repertoire.

The fabric fluttered in the breeze and just as it threatened to reveal more than a glimpse of her glorious ass – she stood and shouted: “2 Love”

“She’s playing to win the game,” he thought. “There isn’t any doubt of that. But what else is she playing at now?”

He’d started encouraging her to join him for tennis nearly eight months ago. His own game had never been anything more than a casual thing; a way to get in some exercise and fresh air. She’d had some reluctance at first, but she knew the value of getting in tighter with him socially; as he knew the value of getting to know her better, too.

Both of them had the ear of the company president, but in different ways. They could be competitors, or allies. He preferred the latter, and suspected she would too.

And damn, she looked nice in tennis clothes. Any kind, but especially the ones with skirts, that showed off those glorious legs. Calves taut and smooth, rising up to thighs that had a panther-like quality, controlled power that could grip a man between them in passion, or hurt him if he earned punishment.

He shook his head fiercely at that thought, then realized it was just the thought she wanted to put in his head. Why else bend over so slowly for the ball, with her feline grace, one hip thrust out impertinently in his direction; one sleek muscled thigh fully exposed.

And the way she had held it, when she began to stand. Not just the fact that she held it so near the tempting cleft between her breasts, glistening with a sheen of sweat in this, their final game of their set. Not just the fact that her eyes flickered down to the ball with a possessive glint, even as her mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

No, it was the way her fingers gently tickled and stroked the fuzz of the ball, like she might tease a man’s own testicles.

He felt his own pair tense and heat up, and felt a stirring that tennis shorts were not meant to hide.

And he was grateful that he wore an athletic cup to protect himself from her backhand, as it was the only thing that might camouflage his desire right now.

“I have him right where I want him,” she thought to herself, before stretching out in full length and letting out a powerful grunt followed by an unfortunately predictable serve. The ball came flying back almost out of reach – the bastard was going to make her run for it.

She knew he suspected her ulterior motives. That shake of the head, the uncomfortable shift back and forth to adjust in a socially acceptable manner his “boys.” The flush on his face, and sweat, were from more than just exertion. The glint in his eye and Cheshire cat grin told her that much.

She was playing him – but he was playing her too. She liked him. He was handsome enough, his body perhaps a little softer than she was usually attracted to – but his smile and charisma were magnetic. His mind was what made him so thrilling and for the first time she found herself faced with an intellectual and professional equal. He was well-bred, well-educated and wealthy. Old money to her nouveau-riche status; it drew her in and angered her at the same time.

It was intoxicating to be faced with a man that was neither threatened, nor intimidated, by her. He struck that casual balance of professional respect that had eluded her entire career. That alone had made her change her approach to him from the get go. It unsettled her in many ways. She wasn’t sure what the rules of engagement would be.

The big boss on the other hand, had been easy. He was fundamentally terrified of her – the way a man feels about his prize fighting dog. Kept at arm’s length, yet brought with him everywhere. Kept close to home and released when needed. However, this fine man, sending her volley after volley, was more like the friend that turned out to be a spy. Brilliant at making anyone feel like a long-lost relative and divulging all trade secrets before the first glass was empty. She envied him that skill.

It had almost worked on her. Almost.

She hated to sweat like this, but she hated loosing more. Holding the racket with both hands, she put all her strength into it as the ball came her way. “WHACK” it torpedoed over the net missing it by fractions of an inch and hit her opponent just to the right of his crotch.

A terrifying scream of agony preluded his tall and proud frame falling to the red clay surface. The small cloud of fine rust dust kept her from seeing much, but she knew something was wrong when the ball did not return.

She sauntered over to the other side of the court, standing above him she snickered as he held his upper right thigh and gasped at her for help, tears marking little paths on his dusty face. He was obviously unable to get up and finish the game.

“You forfeit?” she asked, not moving.

He spit out from between wheezes: “Yes … fuck … yes just … help me out here, you ruthless harridan!”

She reached down to give him the leverage to stand, and he grinned lopsidedly, unable to manage a full smile with the pain lancing through his leg. She smiled in return. He had a habit of lapsing into arcane terminology in jest, so he wasn’t angry at least. Not that she doubted her ability to quell his fire even if he had been.

“You know,” he added, hopping over to the fence to lean against it and massage some of the pain away, “if you wanted so badly to stand in front of those people from Brandeis Inc. alone and do the presentation, you could have just asked. No need to cripple me for the chance.”

“Well, I wanted to win the match, too, so two birds with one stone and all that,” she joked.

“Can’t dredge up any sympathy for me, eh?” he asked, taking a deep breath. “My mother warned me about you ‘new money’ types. Said I’d better watch my back. Never occurred to me to watch my front, too.”

“Cry me a river,” she answered with a chuckle. “Hand me your cell phone and I’ll dial your mom for you so she can kiss it and make it better.”

He paused for a moment, words catching in his throat as he caught her eyes, and then he untangled his tongue, and said, eyes half-lidded as he did, “I suppose I’d rather that the perpetrator did the kissing.”

“Fuck … ok … I deserved that…” She blushed a moment yet glowered at the same time. Her eyebrow raised over her right eye in a most stunning arc, she licked her lips in a nervous tell-tale motion that was one of the few to be sensual without her knowing, before her proud persona came back to the surface like the faithful mask it was.

Shit shit shit … he really did like keeping her off kilter. In frustration she punched his shoulder hard sending him mercilessly right back into the fence. She leaned into him then, her breath right up against his full mouth, her heaving breasts against his chest, her hand reached down and cupping his boys she tapped gently the sports cup before pulling away and shouting over her shoulder:

“Suck it up Princess! See you bright and early…”

* * *

With her head high, full of confidence she didn’t feel, she walked away slowly until the doors shut behind her and her swaying ass. She made it to the locker room, undressed slowly lost in thought. In the shower she stood a long time under the endless supply of hot water, a luxury she never got tired of after growing up in a household of eight foster kids with only two bathrooms and one hot water tank. To think she’d been one of the lucky ones.

Her mind was in turmoil. Why did she feel this way around him? Why did she always want to throw herself at him as much as shred him to pieces? Why did she always feel the need to prove her worth to him? To show him how tough she could be? What were these bizarre range of emotions? She shivered under the boiling hot water … he even made her forget proper etiquette. Around him her potty mouth would often come out with a vengeance as if to prove to her that you could take the girl out of the lower classes but…

She started to cry … then giggled … then startled all the other women by laughing loudly and shouting:

“Anyone know what ‘harridan’ means?”

* * *

He sighed when she was halfway to the locker room, half at the sight of her sumptuous ass and half because he felt like an idiot.

What did I expect? That she was going to get down in front of me and kiss me between the thighs?

He closed his eyes and remembered the closeness of her lips, the smell of her breath. After that much tennis, it hadn’t been mint-fresh breath, but neither was it raw. Instead, he thought, it was earthy. Alive. Warm and begging to be sucked into his lungs with a kiss to those lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow curve. He remember the glistening hint of wetness from the fleeting passage of her tongue across them; licked his own at the thought.

He put some weight on his leg, winced only a bit, and started to walk it off. He wished he could kick that tender spot of his himself for having driven her away. How many times had he made her blush when he wanted to make her smile … or, to make her … well, he didn’t know exactly.

“Fuck it, I do know,” he thought. “I know what I want but I shouldn’t be wishing for it. She’s tough enough not to need me. She can swear like a sailor, stride like a model, and speak like an orator. She doesn’t need a flat-assed guy with a belly that couldn’t hold a six-pack shape if his life depended on it. What I have is a trust fund, and she doesn’t need money.”

He showered quickly, dressed and retreated to the cleanest stall he could find to “knock one out.”

The memory of her breath. Her lips. Her breasts. Ass. Legs. Attitude. Voice.

The touch of her fingers, even if it was with a cup in the way.

His balls throbbed at the memory of a touch that wasn’t; still held jealousy for the tennis ball she had fondled instead of them.

“And so the fucking MVP of the business deal slowly jacks himself fantasizing about a woman he can’t have, in a bathroom stall,” he thought. “Right back to high school behavior, except the damned toilet stalls are cleaner. I really am the suave one, aren’t I?”

When he was done, he looked down at his ring finger, and the slight indentation and the paleness that wouldn’t quite go away, even though he’d officially chucked the wedding band nearly three months ago.

* * *

The next day dawned warm and muggy. She hated this type of weather. It always made her feel like she needed to shower again as her blouse stuck to her like some sleazy man at a bar. As soon as she arrived at the boardroom to prepare for the meeting with Brandeis Inc., way ahead of time as usual, she took her jacket off enjoying the air-conditioning and started reviewing the information that had been too sensitive to send ahead for some intern to put out on their massive conference table. She liked this quiet time. She liked meeting the receptionist and security staff, reminding her of her past, how far she had come on her own journey. She always made a point to be nice and encouraging if they seemed at all ambitious. She had mentored a few along the way. Some had been a waste of her time, others had been gems, giving her – in time – eyes and ears inside some of her competitors operations. She hadn’t done that on purpose – but loyalty was a strange beast.

She also knew how fast that could be her again. One bad move and she’d be tossed aside. She’d been told often enough that she was only “as good as her last deal” and she didn’t have a family to lean on if times got tough.

She felt lonely. She certainly had lovers, and many dear friends and rarely spent an evening alone, but the intimacy of a relationship was something that had eluded her. Now, as she entered her mid 30’s, she was bothered by it. It had never mattered, and she certainly wasn’t one to dream of romance or weddings or any of those, in her opinion archaic female goals … she didn’t want kids either … but now, she admitted, albeit begrudgingly and only to herself, that it would be nice to have someone. A pair of arms to hold her, a shoulder to lean on, to actually not be “the strong one” for herself from time to time. To let someone be there for her. Could she even do that? Was she capable?

A man that let her be who she really was … to feel safe and let her guard down.

God she was tired.

She sneered at herself … even that wasn’t a sure thing, and having seen couple after couple divorce or break-up; not a one standing the test of time, she wondered if it was worth the risk. She wondered if she should at least try … she wondered if it was too soon to … After all they had seemed the perfect couple and … She wondered if his thigh hurt when he woke up this morning. Was he going to have trouble getting here? She checked her iPhone quickly, but no message waited for her. Surely the pain couldn’t be that bad; although she was certain the bruise would be spectacular. Why had she done that? Why had she not kissed him? Why wasn’t she sure he wanted her to? Why did her body crave his touch?

Shit they worked together! This was so wrong.

Her eyes closed and she remembered the smell of him after the game, wondered if he’d smell the same after sex. Her inner thighs felt damp, her fingers twitched with a desire for release but she let out a deep, vulnerable sigh, instead thinking how she could use a Chai Latte and the sound of his usual, cheerful greeting. She turned around to put her jacket back on – to find him standing there watching her in the doorway.

“What you doing here so early?” She asked curtly, suddenly self conscious. She could smell his cologne, tasteful and not overpowering. Damn he looked good in that, no doubt expensive, suit. He seemed so sure of himself. So at ease in his own skin. A man use to being the center of attention and not having to fight for it.

“You don’t trust me to set up now…?” she challenged, walking towards him. She stood inches away replaying what had happened after the game the day before – her fingers lingering close to his crotch before moving to the side to his upper right thigh. With a feather light touch she pressed gently. “Does it hurt?”

“I only mope around about my pains when they’re inflicted by someone who only got in a lucky shot,” he answered, “and I only dwell on losses to unworthy opponents. Neither applies here.”

It was only by sheer force of will that he held his erection in check. The nearness of her fingers to the very place he longed to have her touch him was maddening, but also delicious. His cock stirred a little; how could it not? But he kept it from running rampant. Fingers so briefly touching him, and so lightly, and then sliding just a few centimeters across the fabric of his slacks before they withdrew. He could sense her fingers there still, hovering, but not touching.

There was a sulky look in her eyes, which somehow seemed more endearing than off-putting. She wondered why he was here; mistrusted the reasons. Her words hinted that she doubted his trust of her abilities. But at the same time, her body language told him she was glad for his presence. She was balanced on the razor’s edge between wariness and expectance. A ball was in play on the court, he realized, and the problem was whether to lunge for it or not. Was it destined to go out of bounds or not? Moreover, he wasn’t even sure whether she had just served and it was his turn to volley, or if she was waiting for him to serve.

He knew that humility, chivalry, restraint and other virtues were good ones. He’d been able to hold to them often enough and still be successful in business. But sometimes, they needed to be cast aside.

Or at least held slightly at bay.

He leaned forward. What he desired more than anything was to kiss those lips. Just the perfect amount of lipstick and gloss to highlight their beauty, and to inspire a man to let them mark him as her territory, but not enough to be lewd or crass. But that wasn’t something he could risk. Smudging her or marking himself with errant makeup, here where they worked and right before an important presentation. Too much risk for both of them.

But his lips brushed her cheek, and his cheek was just barely touching hers now, and his mouth hovered near her ear. He caught her scent, and recognized the hint of patchouli oil mixed with her subtle floral perfume. His wife had favored the scented oils, and guilt surged up. But he pushed it down. More than a year ago now … nearly half again that much … he couldn’t owe her memory his chastity forever. Lives end and lives move on.

She stiffened only slightly as his lips and cheek touched her, then relaxed. Her breathing deepened just slightly. But she was still coiled tightly, and he supposed he was, too.

“We have a lot of time before the presentation,” he whispered, “but not enough. Not for what I want to say. Not for what I hope I can do. Not for the answers we need from each other.”

“I don’t know if we want the same things,” she said, challenge in her voice, but also curiosity. And desire. “Or if we should.”

“I don’t either,” he said, and lightly kissed her just below and behind her earlobe, earning a tiny sigh as his tongue just barely tasted her skin. “And that’s why I’m taking you to dinner tonight, regardless of how this meeting with the people from Brandeis turns out.”

He pulled away from her neck, reluctantly and slowly, and looked her in the eyes. He hadn’t won her yet. Wasn’t sure he would later. Remained uncertain whether it would be the right choice for either of them. But too much caution could be as wicked and worthless a thing as making rash decisions was.

“We have enough time to go to Starbucks, or we have enough time to go to my office briefly … or yours,” he said. “And lock the door if we do.”

Her eyes widened just a bit. Her nostrils flared a mere hint.

“So I have to ask you,” he continued. “What do you need more to get you through this presentation and the rest of the day? A Chai Latte? Or my tongue between your un-bruised and perfect thighs?”

“Neither.”

That was the one reply he had not been prepared for.

His handsome brow rose a moment as she leaned in, and under the pretense of fixing his collar she said, sounding far too casual, “Morning Sir! You are in early this morning. Everything alright?”

“The wife has been driving me to distraction – apparently I snore … loudly … and now I am relegated to the guest wing of the house! In MY house! The only up side is that I can come and go as I please and don’t have to spend my mornings with her incessant yammering. She’s a good woman but she does go on! The driver and I decided this a.m. that this new arrangement works best for all. HA! I will even let the dog sleep with me!!”

He moved his large frame to the head of the table and added “… I’m going to sit in on this one … No no no …. Don’t argue with me you two! I am not going to interfere. I just like watching my two best men … Ummmmm … Sorry dear …two best … Oh you know what I mean! I just like watching the two of you in action. Reminds me of my early days … And it’s the most fun I have since my wife forbade me from going to the races!”

He made himself comfortable, and a moment later the new and absolutely adorable intern walked in with a tray looking slightly miffed at being made a gofer, but tried to graciously serve the Big Boss his earl grey.

“You know…” He boomed from across the room “I really do prefer tea to coffee. Something about coffee seems so …” He looked up at a sudden loss for words. It was moments like this, when he looked so childlike, that many fools made the career limiting assumption that the Big Guy was a buffoon.

Putting on her jacket at last, she pulled her satin smooth hair into a quick and dirty bun and filled in the silence “Mundane?”

“Yes … That’s it!” He smiled as his large hand came down with a smack on the table where moments earlier she had imagined … “Mundane! That is the word.”

The intern left, but not before rolling her eyes discreetly to the two left standing.

“If the two of you will keep each other company, I have to grab Laurel for a moment,” he said, and moved smoothly in pursuit of the intern.

“No grabbing that will have attorneys fretting over harassment cases,” the Big Guy called after him jovially.

She kept the small talk going with their company president, while also keeping an eye on the man who had long been her foil and confidante and ally, but now was quickly becoming a desire and a distraction as well.

“A charming and pleasing distraction, at least,” she thought, and noticed he was handing his Starbucks card to the intern. She smiled at that, 90% certain that meant a Chai Latte would be on the way. It amazed her how the intern, so recently annoyed at their Big Boss – however well she had masked it from him – at playing the role of gofer, now smiled genuinely and rushed off for this man to do the same kind of fetching work.

“He charmed her in a few moments,” she thought, “and for good measure, probably told her to get whatever she wanted for herself while she was there.”

When he returned to the conference room, he waited for a lull in the conversation, and said, “So, sir, why are you here … really? I know you enjoy a good show, but the people from Brandeis will be dull. All their officers are. They’ll nod. They’ll ask questions. And after a couple hours, we’ll know from the expressions on their uniformly bland faces whether they’ll agree to partner with us, even though they’ll wait another week to tell us.”

“I want to see how they react to the two of you,” the Big Guy answered. “I want to see which of you the E.V.P.s and V.P.s like more. Before they end up under our …”

The Big Guy looked at her meaningfully.

“Wing?” she finished for him with a smirk.

“Yes … indeed. So much better sounding than thumb,” the president said.

They both nodded at their boss’ words. The Brandeis president was lucky and had a good team and a great product. But he had the business sense of a five-year-old on a sugar high. If the company agreed to partner with them, it would find itself dependent on them within six months, and then they would acquire it and merge it into their company within another six months. The Big Guy would use the acquisition as an opportunity to snatch up a few more companies and create a subsidiary company focused on informatics like he’d been threatening to do for a year now.

No sooner had they both finished processing those thoughts than their ultimate boss said, “And I’ll need someone to run it.”

Of course, they both thought. The Brandeis president would get the boot since he was useless, and the Big Guy would want someone he trusted and knew well to take over. They were in competition for a presidency of – if they did their jobs right today – a soon-to-be created and wholly-owned subsidiary of Adepticon Corp.

The Big Guy simply smiled at their mutual recognition of the stakes of this morning’s meeting.

* * *

They had mutually agreed two days ago to let him lead things off, and now she was kicking herself for that, because he could easily dominate the presentation. In fact, he won more than a few chuckles from the stone-faced Brandeis execs with a joke about his slight limp, blaming it on a competitor company that was too weak to challenge Adepticon for Brandeis’ attention, and had clearly decided to assassinate him instead.

But after that, he withdrew his charm.

Oh, not enough that anyone would notice. No one except her. He was selling their company fantastically, as was she, but he wasn’t selling himself. He wasn’t trying to charm the people in this room. The Big Guy wouldn’t notice, because in the end, he was paying attention to the people from Brandeis and how they were reacting. And as long as they made the company look good in this meeting, he wouldn’t notice anything else.

It was an uncharacteristic slip-up for him not to jump all over the chance to win over Brandeis and win the chance to run a new informatics company.

In the end, the meeting was flawless and the presentation perfect. When the Brandeis people had gone, the Big Guy announced that he was taking them all out for a couple drinks after work, since the deal was almost certainly a lock, and even Laurel the intern was in on the invitation, for flawless assists with the visuals, the AV equipment, and keeping the visitors properly hydrated.

When he and she were alone in the room, he inclined her head to her and said, “Match goes to the lady. Now let’s go look productive for the rest of the day and after drinks, I hope I can still take you to dinner.”

She was about to nod, when something in his eyes made her stop, and then she glowered. “You fuck!” she hissed quietly. “You threw your chance on purpose. You held back just enough so that I would be the charmer.”

He shrugged, but in that gesture, she could tell he was confirming her suspicions.

“I don’t need a mercy win tossed my way, you son of a bitch. After drinks, you can head straight home. And alone.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, in a tone of total confusion, but also just enough placation to catch her attention and make her hesitate before storming out of the room. “No mercy. No loss for me. Think it through before you try to cripple my other leg or something.”

“Think what through?”

“What have we both been jockeying for the past year or two? Bill’s corner office,” he said quietly, as he shut the conference room door most of the way. “That man’s going to implode under the weight of his coke habit in less than a year. We both know it.”

“So?” she asked, suspiciously.

“When he falls out of favor, you or I would likely be the candidates for going from vice president to an executive vice president title. One of us would get that E.V.P. spot. In the head office. Being president of a smallish subsidiary company would be equivalent prestige and pay. Difference is that we’d be in different buildings. And the person who stays here to be E.V.P. stands a decent chance to become president when the Big Guy retires in another five or 10 years.”

She scowled. “So, instead of throwing me a bone, you’ve outmaneuvered me.”

“Not really. The E.V.P.-to-president gambit is a gamble,” he answered. “This works out like I expect, we’ll be making about the same amount of money salary-wise, but the president of a new subsidiary stands to earn far better bonuses if she’s as successful as I expect her to be.”

* * *

Having drinks with the Big Guy was always just the slightest bit awkward, though pleasant enough overall. The intern seemed to be the most adrift, since she was a bit green, and unused to either being at the club or being out of the office in the presence of a man who could make or break her career.

Meanwhile, the two sometimes tennis partners eyed each other subtly and warily. Neither was certain where things were going, or whether they would continue on to a restaurant together, though both felt jitters. Nothing that would show to the Big Guy or the intern, but they had gotten too used to each other not to notice the tension that was brewing between them.

After an hour, the Big Guy left – probably to visit his mistress before heading home, they all assumed – and it was just one intern and two V.P.s getting ready to finish up their drinks, and consider whether to get one last round or not.

He took a small sip of the very old and very distinguished Scotch he was nursing, and sighed silently as he gave a casual smile to the intern on his right, and then glanced to his left, to the woman who was his peer and his tennis nemesis, wondering if she were pleased, offended or simply neutral now in the wake of their presentation this morning and his own machinations.

Then he jolted just a hair, as he felt, underneath the cover of the table, a warm, delicately long-fingered hand on his inner thigh rubbing the very sensitive spot of his bruise. The touch so ephemeral that it was akin to a thousand little fairy mouths kissing the fabric of his trousers as if trying to rip their way to his flesh. His balls stirred, his cock moved and she was playing him like a well trained cobra. His mouth went dry as he realized that he may well be utterly outmaneuvered in the bedroom if this was what she could do casually with her fingertips. His heart was beating so loudly he was certain everyone for miles could hear.

She wondered is she was having the desired effect on him. He seemed unmoved, just sipping his drink, eyes half closed. He had leaned into the table a little, that had been the only clue that he wasn’t indifferent. She had been completely surprised at how good and natural it felt to touch him so intimately. Her fingertips caressed the spot she knew was so sore and the rush of the gesture made her head spin. She felt it. She felt it move and stir like a slumbering beast and she felt the fabric of his pants stretch and then felt it try and rise up to greet her when her back-and-forth brought her closer to his crotch. She smiled and took the last sip of her champagne, her own excitement mounting.

A waiter came along to collect the empty glasses. “Put the rest of these on my tab will you?” She told the young man who blushed, nodded and padded away.

“Well I have had a long – if productive – day and my cat likely needs feeding as much as I do. If you’ll excuse me … I’ll be heading home.” On that last word she let her eyes linger on his, hoping he’d get the implied invitation. Knowing he’d be unable to stand just yet, and with a prayer to the Gods, she walked away. She could feel his eyes on her, feel them caress her body, she could almost feel his hands between her thighs and his lips on hers.

She drove home like the often mentioned bats out of hell, walked in, tossed the keys on the console, kicked off her high heels, and leaving the front door unlocked, went to her room, undressed and poured herself a bath.

Slipping into the hot water, glass of champagne in hand, she closed her eyes and waited. Her ears listening for a sound she prayed would manifest itself soon, preferably before she turned into a big raisin. She hoped he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She was done playing games. She wanted him. Wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life. It was more than desire. It was HIM … Not his body, not his mind, not his money or position or what he could bring to her or the doors he might open … No … Him. She liked his soul and his … He was her equal, he was worth it, he was … She sat up fast enough for water to spill out of the tub and unto the heated marble floors. Startled at her own thought she whispered breathlessly, “Fuck … I’m in love with him.”

* * *

As she left, he smiled and spoke his farewell to her own, pantomiming a tip of his nonexistent hat, he then he sipped a bit more at his drink, wondering if his inability to stand was as obvious to the waiter, and to intern Lauren, as he felt it must be. He was thankful for the relatively low lighting that he hoped was hiding the flush he knew must be in his cheeks and on his neck.

He managed to carry on with some light conversation as he watched her go. As he filled his vision with the sight of her retreating legs and ass. The graceful line of her neck, mostly hidden by her hair. The contours of her back, especially where it met with her pelvis. Swaying. Undulating, even. Catching his thoughts in a vortex of feelings both primal and spiritual; physical and emotional. He didn’t stare, but his eyes never left her until she was gone.

His stubborn erection kept him anchored to his seat, and he continued to converse with Lauren, happy to listen as she went off on a topic of her own. He was aware of her words, but only just enough to reply properly.

A confusing mix of emotions swirled inside him, everything from fear to elation. A brief time with her touch, and she had utterly owned him. At the same time, though, she had given herself to him as well.

“My cat likely needs feeding as much as I do,” she had said, and he knew full well she owned no cat. “I’ll be heading home,” she had added, and caught his eye meaningfully, in the same way she did just before serving the ball on the tennis court.

“I won’t be heading home,” he thought to himself as he responded to Lauren’s latest comment, and made a light joke. He wondered how long before thoughts of his fellow V.P. would dull enough – along with the memory of her touch – for his errant cock to be subdued, so he could say goodbye himself.

The immensity of it all was almost enough to make him forget about that other touches under the table. Almost.

“Now how the hell do I extract myself from this?” he thought.

* * *

While she remained in the tub, she’d mopped up the puddles on the floor of her bathroom, mostly at least, with a small towel just barely within reach, thinking to herself that this would be a horrible evening to step out and take an unfortunate slip. One of them with a nasty bruise was enough.

Where the hell is he?

Rationally, she knew it would take some time, but her thighs were fluttering. The heat suffusing her skin wasn’t just the intense warmth of the bath. The slick moisture between her thighs had little to do with the bath oils in the water. She was terrified on some levels that she was in love with him, but her body was at war with her absurdly rational thoughts, beating them back with soft warm waves of heat, reminding her that this was no time for over-thinking things.

Where are you? Dammit!

Creak.

It was a sound she knew well, though always louder, since it was usually underneath her, and produced by her own footfall. This was someone else stepping through her door, and down the entrance hall. Over the hardwood flooring, bending and squealing oh so slightly under human weight.

Oh, I shall make you bend and squeal too. Oh, and I will bend and squeal too if you play me right.

The ajar door to her bathroom opened slowly, tentatively, and then he was inside, holding a bottle, and looking so uncommonly shy that she hardly recognized his face at first, and it made him even more endearing. A man who could negotiate the hell out the deal and defeat the trickiest bastards in the business world, and he was blushing.

“I stopped by a store on the way,” he said. “This bottle of merlot was begging me to introduce you to it. I thought I’d stop by and humor it.”

“Must have taken a long time to pick it out,” she said, leaning on the edge of the tub, her breasts hidden, but the roundness of her buttocks peeking just above the sudsy bubbles in her bath. “You know how to keep a lady waiting.”

“I wish the lady would have remembered that I’ve only dropped her off at her home once in all the time I’ve known her,” he said with a grin and a brief chuckle. “I had to stop by the office on the way over and rifle through your desk to find a piece of mail with your home address. I was a few seconds away from calling up Beth on her cell phone.”

She laughed at that. Beth was the head of human resources, and she wondered how the woman would have reacted to being asked by one V.P. for the home address of another V.P.

He walked over to the edge of the tub, and lowered himself to the floor. The air between them was charged, but instead of rushing the moment, they both hovered in that delicious tension, neither making a move. Both of them feigning such calm, knowing that the other person wasn’t fooled, and enjoying the tiny game.

“I also had that delay at the restaurant that was a bit tricky,” he added.

“Tricky? I hope it was appreciated and enjoyed too,” she whispered.

“It was. Very much. But that’s not the delay I was referring to,” he said. “Your hand wasn’t the only thing under the table. I got a nylon-clad set of toes brushing my ankle. From the other side.”

“Was the decision between the younger woman and me too hard for you?” she asked, letting a challenging tone enter her voice just a bit.

“It happened right as you were standing up, and I think she brushed me by accident as she was pulling her leg back,” he said, laughing.

It took her a few moments to realize what he meant, and then she blushed. “Oh. My. I’ve always thought she was adorable, but not like that. Not seriously, at least. I don’t think.”

“If it makes you feel better, she made a play for my ankle on purpose shortly thereafter, so I guess she swings both ways where V.P.s are concerned,” he said, and cupped her cheek and jaw in his palm. “I prefer an established woman to an unseasoned youth, though.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and for one of those few times in her life, she simply let another person lead. Take control. She let him kiss her. Not the other way around. Oh, she responded. But she let him set the pace and the tone. Firm but tender. Exploring but not invasive. She responded in kind, and how could she not? His lips were full and soft. Not soft in a weak way but soft like suede. Strong but yielding. Heady and sensual.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to. It was an introduction of sorts and an intense one. And as her fingers had coaxed him to firmness before, so did his lips make her nipples swell against the hard edge of the tub, and make her thighs quiver.

Their lips were so close now. No longer touching, but all the same, they were still kissing in a way. Connected even though their lips were no longer locked.

“You may not realize it, but I’m not very good at this,” he said, and laughed a little, nervously now. “Not the kissing. I have it on good authority I know my way around lips. I’m not … I haven’t done this in a long time … I haven’t done this since …”

She realized that he was crying. Not sobbing. Not weeping. But a tear rolled down one cheek.

“If it’s too…” she began quietly, cursing silently and wanting to scream.

“I want … I need …” he began. “You’re what I crave,” he said finally. “You’re…”

He kissed her again, then, as much to silence himself as to reassure her, and one hand gripped the back of her head now, as his kiss became something more insistent. As he melted into her even as she did into him. His other hand caressing her ribs now, and then down to her hip, heedless that the sleeve of his suit coat was in hot, soapy water now, and then his hand came back up to enfold her breast, and his thumb made slow circles of her nipple.

Her breath caught in her chest, frozen, a prisoner. She found herself afraid to move and break the spell she felt she was under. He leaned in and let his mouth, with its warmth, trace a slow path from her lips, to her chin, across her jaw line, down her neck … she had kept herself hidden under the water but now she let her head fall back, forcing him to let her go and revealing her breasts to him, the hard and erect nipples barely breaking the waters surface.

He stared a moment, in awe. He’d always found her beautiful, but as he looked at her now, her hair wet, her face without a trace of make-up, her supple body hot and yearning for him, him of all the men she could have, she was giving herself up … to him… her lips slightly parted and her eyes begging to take charge, he found himself torn between ravishing her and terrified of disappointing her.

He stood, trembling a little, put down the bottle of wine and removed his jacket, his shirt, his belt, his socks, his pants. He stood again, wondering if he should strip the last vestige of clothing or what would be the right thing to do at this junction.

“You joining me or not?” she asked. She had seen him hesitate and knew he felt uncomfortable just stripping like that. Yet, she had enjoyed it and liked what she had seen, his body was harder than she had thought, beautifully proportioned and well groomed. She leaned back and closed her eyes giving him a moment of privacy and enjoying the rush of knowing his naked body would soon be hers.

The water level rose as he eased himself into the large tub. She smiled and with her fingers, found the little nub and with a click and a hum followed by a chuckle on his part, the Jacuzzi bubbles and warm jets were brought to life.

“Thank you” he said simply. She scooched over to his side.

She leaned between his legs, nudging them apart as she placed herself face-to-face with him once more. She leaned in, and pressing her chest to his, letting her arms circle around his neck, she kissed him. She held back, not wanting to be predatory, but she struggled to maintain a sense of calm. She ached for him with such intense hunger it was painful.

His hands grabbed for her ass, he pulled her in closer and she felt his cock against her lower abs. They kissed, this time it was no introduction. The feeling of flesh against flesh was more than either one could manage and the ferocity of their desire burned harsh and bright. All pretense of romance was flung out the window and he grabbed her, possessively, pulling her into him, holding her hostage.

She gasped, barely able to breathe, he was crushing her but she wanted him to. “Own me – take me” she kept thinking over and over … begging him in her mind and heart to be the man she needed him to be tonight. She would take charge later but tonight she wanted to be desired beyond his control.

She bit him hard on the shoulder, he hissed at the feeling and grabbed her face with both his hands. Stopping the frenzy. He stared deeply into her eyes. They both were breathing heavily and in a deep voice she had never heard from him he said a single word.

“Now.”

She stood in all her naked glory, revealing her entire body to him at last. His hand fluttered a moment over her sex before consciously sweeping his hair off his forehead. She had never felt so beautiful in her adult life as she did that moment when his eyes grew larger and his breath drew a silent whistle. She stepped carefully out of the tub and walked into the bedroom grabbing the oversized towel along with her.

She tossed it on the bed, then simply lay down on her stomach.

He walked in, drying himself off in haste and stared.

She turned looking at him slightly over her shoulder and by the time he made it to the bed she had rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and wrapped them around his waist welcoming him to her in the most natural movement in the world.

Uncomplicated and without delay. He could feel the heat of her cunt against the head of his hard, ready-to-explode cock. He stared at her, overwhelmed by the feeling of intimacy and the connection between them, he moved in closer and the tip caressed her clit. She let out a moan of desire, lifted her pelvis just enough to position him perfectly and start the spreading of her vaginal lips around the welcomed intruder.

He was ready to plunge; loose himself in her, let his soul be washed clean by the torrents of pleasure she offered him so willingly. He wanted to die and be born again, deep in the warm embrace of her intimate self when her hand on his chest stopped him. Her cheeks flushed and with a slight tremble in her voice she said: “The point of no return … this will change everything … are you certain you want this?”

Many words leapt into his mind. But he closed them all off before they could reach his lips. He answered her silently, taking the wrist of her hand gently in his grip, removing that hand from his chest and kissing the softness of her wrist, pressing his warm lips to her hot pulse. And then with no words, he slid into her just a bit. Slowly. Only an inch at most, but he pressed pass the outer embrace of her, feeling that hint of resistance even as her slick desire welcomed him.

The point made, he looked at her. Met her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Many light comments emerged in his mind. Any of them could have been charming and made her laugh without breaking the mood. He could have said, “Let’s see how good my serve is” or “Match goes to the lady” or he could have used a pun and said, “How can I resist when the score is love on both sides?” He could have made a joke about “sealing the merger at long last.” He had the voice and charm to pull it off.

He could have said any of these things and likely not offended her.

Instead, he rotated his hips just a little, pressed the solidity of his manhood into her just a fraction more to gain her full attention – feeling a little thrill in his chest at her soft gasp – and then he said: “Nothing is certain. Except that I need you. Not just want. Need. I’d be a fool to pass you by and I’d be an idiot to think of you only for a brief thrill. And change …”

At that last word, he entered just a little more, his cock tingling and her pussy gripping him.

“Change is inevitable,” he continued. “Life is change. Adapt or die. And I’m not anywhere near ready to begin dying.”

Then there were no more words, as he slid fully inside her. No artificially shaved and pubically tailored woman here. A full bush, barely but neatly trimmed, to press against his own sex and eventually to hold the perfume of their lovemaking through the night. To give that rough caress to his skin even as her softer, wetter folds inside gave him more intimate attention.

His mouth against her neck, sucking for just a moment, then pausing in reluctance to mark her. Then remembering this was Friday night, and there would be no office until Monday, and then he kissed her throat, and ran his tongue firmly up and down her flesh, and then began to suck her neck, at first softly, then more insistently, as his hips dipped down and in and up, spiraling inward and then outward, just enough to give him room to press into her again. Neither too gentle nor too aggressive. He did his best to own her sex even as he gave her his own body.

He had been afraid that it had been too long. Too long with one woman. Too long away from sex. Too long in both regards to remember how to please a woman whose body he hadn’t been over every inch of for years.

He was wrong. He felt her shiver and she gripped his ass with her hands. When his lips and tongue strayed to her earlobe and the tender skin just behind it, her lips and teeth found his neck, and she marked him as surely as he had marked her.

The pleasure was rising, and it had been a long time since he had been inside a woman. Long enough that his impatient penis wanted release now. Hot, slippery, sticky pleasure was something more than a mere hand could offer, and it had been long indeed. He paused inside her, marshalling his will, refusing to move inside her. Her hips twisted just a bit, urging him slightly, and he pressed forward just enough to pin her a bit more firmly to the bed, to silently communicate her to still herself.

She sensed his hesitation, even if she couldn’t read his mind, and asked “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he said softly and firmly, taking a break from kisses along her throat and ears. His left thumb continued circling her right nipple, though, and the fingers of his other hand stroked the firm roundness of her left hip. “Nothing is wrong except that sometimes, a soldier too long out of action needs to be reminded of discipline.”

“I’m not sure I want to wait. We have all night; we have all weekend,” she whispered into his ear, and let the tip of her tongue flick inside. “I don’t know if I care that he has discipline right now.”

“I care,” he said quietly into her neck, and his words were warm, heavy and thick. “Even if I don’t give the performance of my life, I’m not a boy. And you’re not a girl. I care to work harder than that for you.”

He began to move again inside her, just a little. Slowly and firmly. And then stopped again after a short while and let his erection simply fill her. Quiescent inside her in a way, but quietly insistent. He still filled her with heat and thickness and hardness. She still throbbed in moist, syrupy passion against his skin. Even when they didn’t move. He relished that time, to simply be in her.

Press and slide and stroke. And stop to taste her face and shoulder and neck. Gyrate and writhe and rock. Then pause to smell her hair and let her mark a new spot on his throat. Penetrate and retreat. Then grip each other’s asses and taste each other’s mouths in wordless, gasping passion.

Their skin, fresh from a bath, now glistened with musky sweat, sweet and refreshing in its own way. He continued at her for nearly half an hour, firmly and in brief bursts of passion, then slowing again, and picking up the pace again later as his cock calmed. Finally, she began to shake a little, and her breathing deepened and became huskier, and her fingers began to twitch even as they dug into his cheeks more firmly, and pulled him into her, refusing to release him this time.

“Oh … Je … sus … oh … fuck …” she moaned, and he simply groaned in response, unable to form words, focused on the moment.

He couldn’t escape her grip now if he wanted. Hands and legs held him tight to her, and she refused to let him go. He didn’t try to escape, but still, he kept his pace firm, slow, insistent. He milked her orgasm, dragged it out as long as he could. Made sure she was coming, well and truly, before he loosened his control, and began to pump her more vigorously. Fucked her hard and true, and she screamed something panting and primal, and he echoed her with more guttural groans, as she completed her orgasm and he began his. Her passion spilled around him and drowned him, as his own flooded and filled her.

They moaned and kissed, still locked together, for a long time, before she finally said, “I’m … I’m … home …” as silent tears flowed and she nuzzled into him. He held her until sleep took her away. He did not move, enjoying the feel of her against him, the soft rhythm of her breath. How was it that she suddenly seemed so fragile? She was precious indeed. He felt an overwhelming desire to never let her go.
 
“Welcome home Love,” he whispered into the top of her head, touched by the meaning of her words and smiled softly before joining her in dreams.

If you want to read the story with author commentary!

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

Flights of Fancy

Dreams: Are they something we create in some uncharted section of our brain or is it another reality we are living. Is it possible that we live more than one life at the same time? Why do some dreams feel so real and others do no? Is it because one is reality and the other is just a misfiring synapse? Do YOU ever dream … of flying?

“There you are” the words that always greet me. He is sitting on a large bolder incongruently lodged on what looks like big, white, cotton candy clouds. There is no ground, no dirt or soil that I can tell, yet there are rocks, trees, flowers and other greenery. I feel a little disoriented but soon focus.  I’m not in Kansas anymore Toto …

I first notice his eyes. Dark brown with amber rings that gaze straight at my core. A thousand messages told in a look, a history, a partnership. He sees all of me. Then, I notice his wings. They are large, massive yet fluid and wrapped like a protective cloak around his lithe body. Difficult to tell the difference between our genders, yet I feel his distinctive masculine presence. His feathers are gold and silver with bright red tips as if the apex of every single feather was burning with the red flame of a mature fire.

I look down, a little startled, to see my own feathers wrapped around my long and slender figure. Bright magenta with teal tips, the rachis made of fine opal like keratin. A part of my brain is in awe and pleased at how beautiful they are. I flex and open them, several feet long and heavy, each wing is in length my own body’s height. A cold rush flows over my suddenly exposed, very nude and shockingly slender body. The wind is picking up as the light shifts a little towards dusk. Faster, cooler as if the northern airstream too wants to play.

My lover, for his gaze tells me he is, extends his hand out to me in invitation. I watch him, as his knees bend, his energy seemingly congregating in his center, the very tip of his wings, flutter and with a sudden expansion of wing span he jets off straight into the bright blue sky. Stunned I watch as he slows and then starts to circle like a Wandering Albatross. I hear him in my mind. “I am waiting love come and dance with me…” A large grin spreads across my face.

I bend my own knees, with the certainty of an action practiced a thousand times, I center my energy in my gut, flex my wings out, the tips taste the wind and reminiscent of a nuclear explosion I detonate towards the heavens. The cold air hits me like an ice bath, every cell on my skins surface tingles, the tears in my eyes are from both wind-chill and joy as a sense of absolute freedom overtakes my consciousness. I am delirious with glee and laugh with the abandon of a child at play. What seems like hours and only minutes is stopped as a warm hand startles me and pulls me. At first a little annoyed for the interruption, I realized that there is only so far I can go on my own. The rest of the heavens await, a world of infinite space, but it takes two for access. I am uncertain as to why, but I know this truth.

 Abandoning myself to the moment, my lover positions himself  below me and turning up facing me, his eyes fierce yet tender, he wraps his wings around us, as I fold my own, against my back. We do not plummet but hover at that altitude. The calm is so total it’s eerie. His warmth is akin to placing frost bitten fingers in warm water; wonderful yet painful all at once. I lose my ability to differentiate up from down. North, South, East or West all directions seem the same. The only center of focus is my lovers amber ringed eyes. I look deep into them. I sense his body closer; our skin is merging, as if literally becoming one. Moments pass and his mind and mine are joined in perfect harmony as are our palms, chests and pelvic region. A warm sensation tingles and the walls of my cunt press down and to my delight, the kegal movement reveals his presence inside me. There is no back and forth, no rocking, gyrating, no humping- nothing that base – yet the heat, vibration and intensity of the joining has me flushed. A sensation similar to orgasm is tickling every nerve ending.

His mouth, with full and tender lips, closes the last gap between us, for a moment we breathe each other in and out. It’s as if his member has spread like tentacles across my entire inner being, caressing the back of my kidney, spine, heart and nipples from within, moving around and pressing every erogenous zone from inside and outside my body simultaneously.

 We remain, palm to palm, pelvis to pelvis, his wings wrapping us in a glorious cocoon of feathers. I am drunk on the breath of him. His essence impregnating every molecule, I know not where he ends and I begin and as his mouth, deliciously closes on mine, the sweet and tender taste of his moist tongue flickering against the back of my teeth, I feel us shift. I kiss him in earnest, our lips never parting I throw myself at him, in him, one with the universe our energies meld. The sound of wings and blood surging resonates in my ears, my clit is gorged, my body trembling, and I hear his voice like a sweet love song, a serenade in my mind behind my eyes, in my internal ear. I echo it back and tears start to fall. Hurricanes have less intensity than the tsunami of orgasm that threatens to shred our very essence. Lips part and as we scream our pain and pleasure we shoot out and beyond the pale blue sky into the eternal darkness of space. For a moment we are like two satellites in a deadly tango above the white, blue and green world. We hover, just as the orgasm ends. I feel him shudder within.

His wings wrapped tightly so long open suddenly to fold behind his back. I open mine and wrap him then, holding him, cradling him and keeping us united as one. Our lips reconnect, we kiss softly and tender. My hands find his flesh and I caress him. His find my physical self and the intoxication of his touch spins my mind around again and again. In sweet denouement we slowly plummet back. I close my eyes and fall without fear. My heart lurches a moment as we pierce the white clouds in entry, and I cry as I hear him whisper in my mind “until next time my heart” …. He lets go.

The feeling of loneliness is so intense I scream. I awaken.

Looking  up I see brown eyes with amber rims looking at me; warm flesh and a heart beating beneath my palm. “There you are…” he says …I grin as I place my ear against his chest, listen to his heart beat and breathe in his human scent. He smells of sex.

February 25, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors | , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Accidents Hap/pee/n

“STOP I’m going to pee my pants!” he doubled his efforts as she gasped for air between the laughter and moans. He loved her playful nature and tickling her was a favorite pass time. He knew not to abuse the game or it would lose its charm but every now and then, it just seemed like the right thing to do. This time she had been all warm and cuddly next to him on a lazy Sunday morning, her soft skin egging him on, and saying “Go on … you know you want to”. Yes, yes he did.

She had turned around and licked his nose like a puppy and then burst out laughing. That had been his Q. “Oh noooooooo!” was all she had managed to scream out in a giggly fit before he’d pounced on her, pinned her and let his fingers torture her. The neighbors must have thought they were gutting piglets with the squeals she let out.  He delighted in the sound of her abandon.  She was red, a smile so big on her face it was almost a grimace of pain. “Seriously stooooooooop”. He couldn’t – not this time.

Then suddenly she shoved him off, he stumbled, a little surprised at the forcefulness, as she jumped up… running to the bathroom… he followed.

She never made it to the toilet.

Flushing a deep scarlet red she stood there on the tiled floor of the white bathroom looking like she was ready to cry as a golden liquid pooled slowly at her feet like some expensive, honeyed, dessert wine.

He didn’t expect his immediate erection.

She was lovely in her distress. It had been so long since he’d seen her shy or embarrassed about anything with him and while he was rather fond of the comfort between them, he had missed this. A buzz of excitement hit his ears like a hornets’ nest. It paralyzed him a moment. Long enough to look at her, the red face, the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her hands twitched in her uncertainty of what to do. Then there was the rise of an eyebrow above an angry set of eyes. She was mad at him, embarrassed and yet she had not been able to avoid seeing his arousal.

She shivered and went to move to clean up.

“NO!” he shouted – sounding loud, dominating and arrogant; even to himself. 

She stopped … and trembled slightly.  He walked over grabbing a hand towel on the way, kneeling like a supplicant he cleaned up the wetness at her feet, along her ankles, thighs and then did the one thing she never saw coming.

With one hand he spread her tender nether lips apart and suckled.

Her clit was a little swollen; the taste and smell of urine invaded his nostrils. He moaned into her crotch.  She froze to a type of stillness that indicated real internal turmoil. He knew she thought of this as disgusting or at the very least unsanitary yet his, and now her own, arousal was sending her brain conflicting messages.  Because she didn’t know what to do – she chose to do nothing.

He slowly raised himself off the floor, possessively; hungrily he cocooned her in his arms. With his wet lips he kissed her. She tried to recoil but gave in. Breathlessly he picked her up, placed her on the edge of the vanity and rinsing the towel off with clean, clear water he proceeded to give her a sponge bath.

Between every wipe, he licked, caressed and tickled her. Soon her crimson flush turned from one of shame to excitement. She breathed in deeply after having held her breath so long, her shoulders relaxed and she leaned back on her elbows, spread her legs apart in a wide W and let him have his way with her.

He pulled her closer to the edge, and sitting on the toilet he played with her clit.  The ripe smell of the small cunt filled his head with a dizzying thrill as he drew his mouth close and kissed the moist lips and flicked his tongue deep inside.

He stabbed, twisted and rolled his tongue like a frantic snake until the pussy was crying excited juices.  Her body was throbbing with energy, lifting and shoving the mouthed cunt eagerly up to his buried head.  His tongue felt good.  It was scrubbing her inside with rapid strokes which hit in exactly the right places.  Her clit was about to explode, the walls of her steaming box were quivering with excitement, the pliable caress of the digging tongue sent her on to the very edge of orgasm.

She grabbed his hair, forcing him deeper into her crotch all her embarrassment long gone.  She felt his finger press, part and explore the fullness and heat of her vulva.  Then a sigh of relief escaped from her as she felt his digits dip and wiggle inside.

“Yes ….my love … yes, that’s it,” she whispered over and over.

She was ready. Without delay he stood up and grabbed her ass as he steadily plastered himself repeatedly in and out. 

“Oooh …” she sighed.

The flowing liquids foamed around his dick, the grate of his flared head inflamed further the tissues of her pussy as he slowly pulled up and almost all the way out over and over.  She was still young, hard, eager and willing; she took everything he could manage to shove inside her. His hips ground with animal abandon to the echoes of her gasps and moans.  They came furiously.  First him, a little early causing a struggle with the intense sensitivity of having her pump him further after he had emptied his load.  She finally threw her head far back, her toes curled and she screamed loudly filling the small bathroom with the sounds of her orgasm.

He relaxed between her legs a moment and reveled in the sweet embrace of her thighs.  The frantic nature of their fucking eased off and he slowly worked his cock in and out of the cream-smeared pussy until the hardness started to die away.  Then he withdrew it and heard her moan with disappointment.

“Can I clean up NOW?” she asked eyes full of mischief.

February 20, 2010 Posted by | Lust | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Let’s Play…

Many moons ago, one of my readers asked me what she could do for “fun” with her long distance boyfriend. I suggested writing an erotic story back and forth between them – using e-mail or even texting. I wrote this to illustrate. The story flips from my perspective to his (thank you for  playing).

The real fun in this activity is the utter surprise … where will the story go?!

Hope you enjoy the process as much as I did and perhaps feel inspired to do the same. Let me know! and maybe share!

(The idea came from the collaboration between two of my favorite writers/bloggers you can read that here)

***

Enjoying the first beautiful days of summer we walked the streets for some outdoor cafe to sit at and have some lunch.

I am potentially over dressed. Then again, I am of the firm belief that a woman can never be too classy. There’s just no excuse for bad taste and no way out of the predicament, so you are best not to ever go there. Know exactly how dressed up, or dressed funky, you can get away with at any given time.

I push the limits. I am a bad girl that way. Panties are oft forgotten. He likes me accessible. If panties are worn, they are most likely thongs and announced to friends at completely inappropriate times – it‘s my one gauche habit. I just don’t go quietly, but He knows that and loves the challenge.

Leaning over towards me at the tiny table we occupy along the street, His hand goes up my thigh hidden only by my pencil skirt and table-cloth, reaches my intimate self and lets his fingers play along my glossy engorged slit. I might drown him, and I try to effortlessly spread my thighs to give him better access. He grinds his palm against my clit, his fingers finding their way through my folds and into my body. I lean my head back in pre-orgasmic lust.

He motions with his head to have me go down. I descend under the table to suckle and gorge on my pre-lunch delight.

*

I could hear the nearby diners gasp, just as I did, when my beloved’s lips wrapped around my shaft. She’d unzipped me and told me in no uncertain terms that she was going to suck me – and I had no doubt she meant it. There was the sound of her slurping, my moans and the waitress stuttering as she took the adjacent table’s order. I only vaguely heard it all as I treasured the way my love took me deeply, using her tongue expertly on the underside of my cock and tickling my balls with it when my shaft head reached the back of her throat. We fit so perfectly. I knew … we both knew… I wouldn’t last long.

An attractive couple at the next table could not take their eyes off us and were obviously pleased with our antics. I lifted the table-cloth carefully to give them, and only them, a better view. My fingers in her hair, I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling of her hands cradling my balls. My toes curled in my shoes and I gritted my teeth, while she sucked me in a final time.

Our neighboring diners sat up in their chairs, as if they had orgasms themselves, and they spoke to each other in hushed voices. I looked at them and acknowledged their reactions; approval or disapproval depending on the individual. It was fascinating to see who was in fact offended and who was not. Not to mention those with flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, that feigned disapproval out of fear of judgment.

No one had actually “seen” anything and for all they knew it was just an act for some hidden camera; but as she cleaned me up, I took my wallet from my coat pocket and called for the waitress to settle the bill. She came quickly, without making eye contact.

My beloved took her seat, and another sip of her wine, I paid the bill before standing to leave. I should have put away my cock first, but I forgot and a few shocked faces told me they had gotten a good look at my glistening shaft before I finally tucked it away. Now we really did have to leave.

Where should we go for dessert?

*

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see the attractive blond and her equally blond partner looking at me a question on her lips. His arm encircled my waist in a protective manner, but still relaxed, Just setting boundaries. I giggle internally. Precious man had nothing to worry about and he knew it. He just wanted others to know it as well.

A surprisingly sultry voice emanated from the petite blonds lips as she asked us if we’d care to join them for a drink and perhaps some sweets at their place not to too far. I turn to my man, a grin on my face and an eyebrow raised in askance but leaving the decision up to him. He’d talked about this more than once – the opportunity was ideal. The couple was attractive and eager and my mood was naughty very, very naughty. Was He all talk?

His hand slid from my waist to below my skirt and squeezed my ass …. He leaned into my ear and whispered:

*

…. Let’s play.

She needed no greater invitation and accepted the offer for both of us. I always knew that given the right opportunity, and mood, our fantasy would come to fruition. I immediately began to wonder what we would do, what our new friends would like to share with us. I wondered what this woman, whose name I soon learned was Helene, would taste like and if she was hairless like my love. I felt a new stir in my loins. I wondered how much my beloved would enjoy the look on my face as I watched another man enter her from behind. Of course, for all I knew, this couple only wanted to return the favor and let us watch them together. The possibilities were endless, and the short five-minute walk to their loft seemed to take an hour.

By the time we reached their front step, my cock was standing at attention once again. As we were about to walk in the door, I stopped and pulled my love to me. “No turning back from here. Are you sure?” I needn’t have asked of course. She playfully squeezed my member through my pants, and led me inside, “I’m still hungry… ”

*
The door opened and the rather quiet couple led us inside. It was a modern, minimalist space. Everything was bare with the exception of an overlarge black and white, erotic photograph adorning only the far wall. All the furniture was white. In fact everything was white. The space would have felt clinical if it wasn’t for the impressive and welcoming centerpiece.

In the middle of the room was a massive, circular, sunken in couch. I wasn’t sure if it was a couch or bed. We soon found out that the rich velour, in shades of heather grey, was both. Sven and Helene poured us some drinks and we settled. There was really nothing to talk about; chit chat was not our reason d’être in their intimate space.

Still – I waited for our hosts to lead. Not certain of what they actually had in mind. In boredom, His hand was slowly gliding up my thigh, I was still wet and the tedium of the uncertainty of our hosts was starting to grate. I leaned over and straddle Him. He smiled up at me and slowly raised my skirt knowing this would afford our hosts a view of my ass, thong and in time, his erect penis. He hoped the visual would inspire action.

I heard a hiss of approval from behind yet was still startled when I felt a strong hand cupping a breast and a foreign set of lips on the back of my neck. Brushing my hair out of the way, I looked over my right shoulder and saw Helene on the other end of the “couch”, her legs parted, and her hand between her thighs enjoying the view of the ménage a trois before her. I motioned for her to come closer and she shuffled until she was in arms reach of Him. I looked at Him lovingly, as I felt the hands of a stranger unbutton and pull off my top, my eyes never looking away from His.

His cock was straining making Him uncomfortable, so I reach down to unzip him and let his member go free. His one hand on my free breast still cupped in my black lace bras and the other hand down the white skimpy cotton boy shorts of Helene. He seemed quite happy with his lot.

*

It never ceased to amaze me the abandon she could display. Her curvaceous body soft in all the right places was a sight. I watched Sven unclasp her bra, and as the black lace was scattered her glorious mounds revealed themselves to me. I watched with some envy, his callused hands touch them – eagerly plying the soft flesh. Her eyes closed.

I was grateful for Sven’s total silence. It allowed me to think of him as an accessory and not a real person kissing my beloveds neck and touching her so intimately. Helene was another matter. Her soft and voluptuous moans were like a sexy soundtrack in the background and I stole a look at her.

She was petite in every way and her tiny frame looked fragile in her nudity and enjoyment. The play of my fingers somehow made her seem vulnerable. Flat chested and a little skinny she had a fire in her that belied her small stature. Yet, there was emptiness there in her eyes that also frightened me a little. In fact there was something empty about Sven too as if he was acting and not really fully present. This play was filling a void for these two and the thought of that made me almost lose my erection as a wave of pity threatened to take over.

*

I saw a shift in Him. He was over thinking this and I jerked his member up a little too hard. His eyes snapped back to mine. I grinned. He grinned back. I wasn’t going to let Him fuck up this opportunity with His tendency to over analyze everything. I needed Him to join me in living in this moment.

Sven’s hands were magic and yet I was only vaguely aware of him. I gave him the same amount of attention I would a vibrator on my bed. I could hear Helene’s sounds of sweet pleasure and it reminded me of having a porno on the TV in the background. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that I wanted – was Him.

I lifted my ass up only enough to pull away the fabric of my thong to the side. Lowering down to impale myself, I hovered for a few exquisite moments letting the heat of my cunt tease Him. His head leaned back and I saw Him enjoy in his mind first, what his body knew was about to happened. His member stirred and using his pelvic muscles, his cock reached up a little more tickling the entry of my pussy. It was too much. I sat in his lap, taking him in.

*
The feeling of her cunt stretching to take all of me, the warm heat surrounding my cock in the moist and powerful recesses of her womb was a feeling I was totally and utterly addicted too. It was the one place I could lose myself in totality.

I felt the rise and drop of her hips on mine and for a moment I held my breath afraid I would come too soon. Luckily, my attention was diverted to Helene moving in towards my beloved, raising herself on her knees on the couch next to her and kissing her with passion and viciously pinching her own nipples. She then went to kiss Sven and back to my dearest … back and forth.

Feeling too much like an observer, my hand slid back between Helene’s thighs and found her engorged and slick clit. She wiggled her tiny ass in pleasure as I continued to finger her with one thumb inside the entrance of her cunt and the other four making a come-hither motion teasing her poor pearl. She moaned her ecstasy into my beloved’s mouth.

*
I was hazily aware of Sven’s body behind me, of a woman’s lips on mine of hands on my breast and painful tugs at my nipples, of a hard member making its way between my ass.  I was lost in a sea of touch, smell and sound. In sweet torment my body rose and fell with the ebb and flow of my dance partners.

*

I sensed Sven trying to part my knees in order to make his claim on the soft curves of my love’s gloriously round and perky derriere. I read her body language and knew that she was far gone in her pleasure and would be willing. I parted my knees enough to give him access without him ejecting me. No. That was my prize and mine alone and he would never lay claim there. In that way she was mine; only mine.

With the aid of lubrication, he slid inside her, tentative and a little clumsy but soon found a rhythm that allowed him to penetrate her, without ruining her rhythm of pleasing me. And so, long languid minutes of pleasure began for us all.

Surprisingly Helene was the first to come. She did so gloriously all over my fingers. Her back flushed prettily with waves of crimson as she locked lips with my Love for support and her hand found Sven’s and squeezed it possessively. Sven followed moments later making the first real sound that evening as he jerked upward and released himself into the condom inside my beloved’s ass.

*

I was under attack. My body assaulted with pleasure in every way. My mouth was full of tongue and luscious lips; my gut filled with a tentative but relentless thrust and my cunt was filled gloriously by Him. I opened my eyes and found His. Our love was nothing to be toyed with and my heart gave way as I saw Him there, loving me. I felt myself cross the threshold then.

I felt and heard our play mates come. Sven’s hand gripped at my chest and right then I mouthed “Come with me” to Him. With that, I sat down harshly in his lap forcing him to fill me to the deepest and darkest recesses of my inner self. His jism hit the walls and flooded me as the Tsunami of torrential orgasmic force rocked though my body.

We collapsed.

***

Months passed before we returned to the restaurant, not thinking about our adventure until we saw Helene and Sven sitting at the little table for two in the corner. We nodded in greeting and Helene flashed us a large, happy smile as Sven blushed furiously.

Moments later her tiny frame and sensual perfume filled our space. Helen’s blond hair hung carelessly in her face and she brushed bread crumbs off her tweed pants. She handed us a postcard size invitation and said: “Hope you can make it” in a voice oozing with promise, before pushing Sven out the door, into the cold before her.

*

I grabbed the invitation out of His hands curious to see what it said. It didn’t hold much information other than a date, time and place. I was intrigued and presented it to Him to read. What could this be? Another rendezvous?

*

I looked at the information displayed in the center of a large, heather grey dot in the middle of a pure white postcard. I smiled at the mirroring of the quiet couple’s intimate space. I couldn’t help but wonder what had come first, the living space or the logo?

I looked up at my love an eyebrow raised. Did she want to go? Her smile told me all I needed to know. It seems she was still hungry.

*

Two evenings later found us standing in front of the address wondering if we had it wrong. We double checked our card and confirmed with a passerby. This was it. Not wanting to stand out in the snow much longer, I grabbed His hand and went inside, drawn by the faces of all the “pretty people” and the sound of laughter and the notes of soft blues.

As we walked in we were handed a glass of champagne each, while a young and pretty thing took our coats. My eyes were wide with wonder at the work displayed in the art gallery. The most beautiful erotic scenes unveiled before me. Photographs I could get lost in for hours given half a chance. They were marvels of photography. The details vivid enough to make even the most adventurous amongst us blush.

His hand squeezed mine and I looked at Him to find Him pointing in a direction with an upward nod of His chin. I looked up and saw the focal point of the room and masterpiece of the collection.

On the only wall with color, that same heather grey in an otherwise sea of white washed walls was a massive nine by eight foot photograph.

I almost dropped my glass. 

The room went silent in my head.

All I heard was a sultry voice say:

“I hope you don’t mind”.

 

© 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.

February 14, 2010 Posted by | anal, Beauty, erotica, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

“What are you doing missy?”

He stood there, his unruly hair kept off his face with a Buff, his lean and muscular upper body exposed looking very much like one of his own studies in human anatomy. She licked her lips and shivered a little as she squeezed her vaginal walls together.

She sighed again.

He had only recently started tapping into his artistic side; long dormant in pursuit of a noble career. Meeting her had changed a few things in his life, including this awakening to art. She wondered who was really more surprised at this development. Likely she was. The first time she had glanced at a charcoal sketch of his her breath had caught in her throat. A sense of pride had filled her as she realised that his artistic inclination wasn’t just something to do as a hobby but, something he was actually gifted enough to do in earnest. He was still and always cautious and couldn’t quite believe himself an artist, but his spirit had already changed. His hair had grown a little, he no longer wore the “full suit’ to the office 5 days a week and she noticed that he had started shaving only every other day. He wasn’t slovenly – that he would never become, but there was a relaxation within him she was pleased to witness. It balanced him off nicely. His own trinity: the athlete, the executive and the artist.

They had talked of learning how to dance the Argentinean Tango. He had mentioned wanting to learn how to play classical guitar. They had started a blog together to talk about living well and healthy lives. But it was painting that had in fact manifested itself fully. It was painting that had tapped into his emotional, creative and spiritual being. She used words to paint an image, he used oils and acrylics.

She watched him now; his fingers full of gooey paint, his knife being brandished like a knight’s sword or surgeon’s scalpel on his canvas. The thick paint was changing colors, taking on contours and shadows. The textures changing from smooth ridges to hard edges depending on the mood. The focus was always the human form, more often than not the female soft curves over took the massive canvas. He painted larger than life, bold and vibrant, a crazy cross between art deco and comic strips. His was a wonderfully strange and modern vision.

She was almost jealous of the way he focused on his art. He disappeared inside his creative bubble almost oblivious to her, the loft, and the music in the air with its slightly tribal beat.

She licked her lips again.

Closing her eyes, she let her hand disappear in her lace panties. Tasting the paint on her lips she melded into the canvas in his mind. Unnervingly she felt them, his strong and powerful hands not just caressing her body, but molding it to his pleasing. His hand rushing up her thigh, the knife slicing away another inch off her hips and his fingers gently adding it back. Her shoulder raised, her breasts protruding outwards, his fingers smudging her nipple, the blade bringing it back – hard, harsh then fingers smoothing it out … feminine.

His breath on her canvas skin shivering. Her abs one moment smooth the next more athletic, then some wonderful place in-between. She was his vision being born out of her own flesh. She was his desire burning, growing inside her own belly. Slow and reverently, fingers between her thighs. Darkness there. Mystery. A brush, a sweep … her clit gorged and proud begging, asking for more attention ….large sweeping fingers, paint filling holes, her body arching to meet his touch, the multicolored lubricant letting his hands sweep and fall in all the correct nooks and crannies. She moans. The thick wooden handle of the knife slips against her cunt; there it wants to disappear in the darkness. It slows, it halts. Then harshly up it spreads her apart – to discover an internal canvas a new blank space to discover to fill. She aches for his warmth, his touch and he fills her , a hot aching need to be alive and explodes with a white flash to paint the inside of her.

A sensual voice floats to her ears …. “What are you doing missy?”

© 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.

February 4, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 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

Jerk Off

I wrote this for a friend in 35 minutes (well ok – 38 min.) for … obvious reasons. I leave it with you in its raw un-edited state. Please let me know your thoughts.  I rarely write this fast or with a “purpose”.

***

Miles. That’s the distance between them. In fact opposite ends of the planet. They couldn’t have been further apart from each other if they had tried. Distance is a tricky thing when it comes to matters of the heart. The longing and thus constant obsession can keep the feelings of fresh love alive longer, but the loneliness if not managed properly can shred the intimacy to pieces, leaving you hanging on to something that no longer resembles the close bond between a couple.

Time is finite for them. She goes to bed when he wakes up, and he slows down at the end of the day when she awakens fresh from her dreams ready to take on the world. The difference in their energy level always their greatest challenge of all. He’s always the next day from hers, living tomorrow before she does. For them it’s no longer about day and night. They have become citizens of the dawn and dusk.

Sunrise and sunset are the colors that shade their love life. Warm and welcoming and yet fleeting.

Sitting in front of her tiny screen she sees him. They barely talk anymore she realizes. Every encounter and every e-mail exchange is about sex and the banal pursuit of orgasm. The relationship reduced to fleeting moments of erotic exchange. He’s naked already, his hand wrapped around his cock. Hard and eager. His eyes glistering with the lust and anticipation of the feast ahead. She’s horny that’s for sure. His hard athletic body does that to her. She starts to strip nice and slow. Showing first some shoulder, then some chest. Her breast are capped by full and luscious nipples made for sucking, she pinches them in his absence. His hand goes up and down harder. “Your hot princess” he says.

Grabbing her red dildo out of the drawer next to her, she places it between her tits. She moves it up and down. On the other end she hears a sharp in-take that matches the nod of his head in approval. She knows he wishes it was him. She’s pleased … yet ….

Standing, she bends over, presenting him with her ass. Wiggles her panties off and tries to give him a close-up of her shaved intimate parts. The camera is so small, it’s awkward but she finds the right height and angle and holds herself steady for a while. He’s breathing heavy now. She knows he’s close. She turns around leans into the camera and opens her mouth. He leans over and jerks off until he comes in his hand. Her eyes feast on the beauty of him, his member and the memory of his body wrapped around hers and the smell of him intoxicates her mind. She’s thrilled with the effect she has on him and confused with the one he has on her.

“I got to run” he says, and switches off. She’s left forlorn without release of her own. Sitting on the side of her bed, a sense of isolation engulfs her fully. She let’s her hand wonder to between her thighs and laying down she fills the void with a moment of pleasure, her clit is bulging with blood.

Flushed, she rests a moment prior to walking to the bathroom sink where she cleans the toys before getting ready for work. As she looks in the mirror she starts to cry. She’s worth more than this. Holding the edge of the sink, she takes a determined breath.

Long gone are the hours of conversation on the phone, the e-mails filled with romance that thrilled her once… “I feel dirty” she whispers to no one in particular. She stares again a long time at her own eyes reflected in the mirror. They seem big, sad and tired. She straightens her shoulders, takes a long shuddering breath once again and walks to her laptop. She goes to the sites they use and blocks his e-mail. She deletes her account from a number of online venues. She goes and types a short message, then blocks his e-mail and deletes it from her address list. Somehow filled with a sense of freedom she continues her toilettage and leaves her house.

A smile spreads tentatively across her lips as she makes her way through her daily commute. His hold on her is gone. She’s already been missing him achingly for months. It wasn’t the physical presence she had been missing, it was him – what he was to her, what he made her feel and the deep affection she felt for a kindred spirit. They had spent time once, talking about things – anything – what they had died a long time ago when the conversation and real exchange stopped. She still harbors a need to shout at him “I’m not your whore” … but realizes that’s not accurate. She’s not paid after all. No. She’s done being the “live play thing” of his jerk off sessions.

A deep satisfactory laugh escapes her, strangers stare. She can see him reading her final message, the words float in her minds eye: It’s over.

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

 

December 28, 2009 Posted by | erotica | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 34 Comments