Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

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.

 

Advertisements

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

Nothing

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

… and perhaps that is not entirely true.

Perhaps I always knew it would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now here we are

… face to face.

For the last time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or
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.

August 3, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Love(h)er

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dam broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playing with Fire – Part I

Photography by Danniel Oickle

I have been called many things in life. Femme Fatal, Amazon, Package Deal, Nymphomaniac, Sex Goddess, Triple Threat… to mention just a few. All of them I take with a grain of salt or even wear the badge with pride. I am not ashamed of who I am, nor do I hide my voracious appetite. Even being called a “bitch with attitude” doesn’t bother me. After all, it can be true.

I love the curves of my body. I was once told I was like a white girl with a black woman’s ass. I have never forgotten that particular calling card. Trust a Cockney bouncer to come up with that one!

I had gone out after a long day and was having fun dancing. I recognize that many people go to clubs to hook up; most bars are meat markets. Not me. I go because I love to dance. I enjoy letting the music move me, love the way it feels like it’s caressing my body… I relish the abandonment, the escape. The energy I get from dancing is astonishing.

I had managed to keep men at bay all night, but walking to the bathroom an idiot grabbed my ass pinching it hard enough to bruise. “Oh how I would like to get into your panties” he garbled … I pulled away and threw over my shoulder some quip remark about one asshole being enough, thank you.

When I returned, I noticed a newcomer; there was something disarmingly honest about his face. A large, easy smile that made my own lips curl upwards. He happily talked to his friends, with the ease of a man sure of who he is and secure in his identity. Oh, yes… now he … he was yummy.

I insinuated myself between him and his buddies, leaning over to place an order with the bartender for a drink I didn’t really want. In the mirror behind all the bottles, I saw him look down at my derriere and give it an appreciative nod. Then, surprisingly, he locked eyes with me in the mirrors reflection – smiling. He knew. He knew I had targeted him and saw through my tactic. Only he was game. It was written all over him.

He leaned in whispering: “Should I be buying you that drink?” I shook my head no, took my beverage, downed it, walked three steps away, and put out my hand in a “come hither” gesture. His friends shouted a “no!” telling him that he’d be crazy to go. “She‘s hot man – women like that are bitches“. It was the only push he needed. Oh yes, I liked him more and more.

He followed me to the dance floor, where we let our bodies ride the musical waves together. He had rhythm, and knew how to move. Promising indeed. My arms languidly dropped around his shoulders and I could feel the heat rising between us. We kissed passionately, each comfortable in our own cockiness. Both aware of our charms and power over the other in that moment. Things were going to happen. We both knew it and both of us wanted it. We were playing with fire.

One friend of his in particular was irate. Feeling left out he kept trying to cut in or discourage the attraction. But we laughed it off. The more he and others disapproved, the more we enjoyed each other’s presence. Apparently neither one of us had quite outgrown our inner teenage rebel.

I needed some air and walked away – certain he would follow. He did not disappoint. I walked out of the club and he sauntered up next to me. We enjoyed the play of electricity between us as we walked up the street in silence to the outskirts of a park. There we kissed. Our lips brushed, our tongues mingled, and my hand squeezed his cock through his pants. I am strong, and not afraid to show it. He moaned into my mouth, pulled back and just smiled. It was time to take him home…

… Not my home. I took him to a friend’s house for which I have a key and an open invitation to let myself in at all times. A friend with some interesting décor choices.

I have never been a big fan of real, serious S&M. Nevertheless, like anyone that enjoys sexual adventure and collecting sexploits, it is of interest to skim the surface. This was that kind of love shack. I walked into the room, turned the lights on low thanks to a dimmer and asked him to strip. He seemed a little taken aback at the authority in my voice, but obeyed. I could see his eyes following the four walls of the room, his confidence slightly shaken. Not so sure now as he nervously eyed the large cross of steel on the wall with leather cuffs hanging from each extremity – not to mention the abundant collection of whips, knives and other paraphernalia.

I wanted to let him know that this was about mutual pleasure. I kneeled and kissed the length of his stiffening manhood with moist lips until it stood tall and straight before my face. Then flattening my tongue I gave it a broad, slow licking, back up the flared head. Finally, I opened wide and surrounded the pulsating rod with my sucking mouth.

I practically inhaled his cock with complete abandon. All traces of sophistication now gone. I was at present nothing more then a simple woman going insane over a gorgeous penis. Up and down … Up and down. My hands cupped and snuggled into the valley of his ass. He didn’t stand a chance. My index finger probed into his warm crack to find his asshole. Finding the mark, I followed the anal ring around and around. It felt too good for him to do anything but enjoy it. I let my finger dig inside the tight muscle and started exploring.

I sucked hard never breaking my steady rhythm. Finger dipping and twisting driving him crazy. I allowed the thick honey to erupt on my chest but I kept gouging with my index as lurch after involuntary lurch came from his hips. Nothing was coming out now; but to him it felt like it was… long after his climax usually ended. The finger was driving him, causing him to make jerk after jerk. Reading his body language, I knew the moment of pleasure had passed for now.

I slowly eased from the depths of his anus and he whispered, “wow…”.

The trap was set.

© 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.

May 11, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Reader Poll – Eating Head Challenge

May 9, 2009 Posted by | poll | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sensual Dream

Someplace in the distance I could hear the thunder of water and, the smell of moss clung to the air like a lovers caress. Proud, white marble columns reached like a supplicants arms towards the heavens as if calling for the Gods to bless this track of land and it’s architecture … make it more … make it sacred ground. Trees, so tall they betrayed their age of thousands of years, shot towards the sun, in hopes of heat on their leafed fingertips. Below, hundreds of animals sheltered in their grace; mammals, insects and the birds … Oh, the birds were the messengers between the skies and the soil, masters of song.

I meandered along a path that seemed swept clean of leaves and debris by an invisible hand. Not sure where it led or why I should follow.  I could feel a pull so strong that I simply could not … would not … resist. The water sounded closer and I picked up my pace. Climbing marble steps two by two when an unexpected vista unfurled beneath my eyes.

An ancient amphitheater created a half dome, sheltering a lagoon that acted as a stage floor. It was surrounded by marble statues and the water was a most startling shade of teal. A thundering waterfall for a majestic backdrop seemed to complete the setting for some imagined, aquatic play .

I was overcome by an impulse to bathe and ran down at a neck-breaking speed; a sense of euphoria overtaking me. I removed my clothing, acutely aware and listening for any sounds that may be human. I could sense eyes on me … hundreds of gazes. I should have been frightened, but, instead, I grew bolder under the assault of invisible voyeurs.

I slipped into the lagoon looking at the stone faces and bodies on its edge. They seemed so real. I almost expected them to move, breath, or blink … but the chiseled stone was cold. The water on the other hand, was warm and soothing; obviously heated by a natural hot spring. A light mist coming off it’s surface carried with it the subtle aroma of lavender. I relaxed, as naked as the day I was born, and swam leisurely, dove and played like a child.

I eventually grew tired and pulled myself out of the natural bath with regret – a sentiment reminiscent of leaving the embrace of a lover too soon. I walked along the periphery, looking at the statues and letting my hand rest, caress, and glide over the smooth marble. They were men and women of such utter perfection, some almost too beautiful to behold. One, in particular, caught my eye and had me mesmerized, transfixed, and enthralled.

A kind face and an out of place feral smile stared with dead eyes, arms stretching out to me as if welcoming me back. Perfect shoulders, chest … and as I walked around … back, ass, and strong yet slender legs, made for a pleasing composition. Whoever had made these was a genius. The most surprising attribute was his penis. Ancient art usually portrays this particular body part at rest and flaccid. This one, however, seemed awake, ready and warm. I kneeled…curious to get a closer look.

It was perfect in every detail. The tiny veins, the skin and subtle change of hue in it’s coloring. I giggled at the thought of kissing it… and glancing over my shoulder to ensure I was still alone… did. Something in the air shifted. A warm breeze blew up and against my back, around my shoulders and chest, down to my navel and between my thighs. I was abruptly hot, and sexually awake and ready. Something had most definitely come over me.

Without thought, holding onto the outstretched arms, I lifted and impaled myself on the member wrapping my legs around the statue’s waste. The cold and very hard intruder stabbed me inside like an arrow, producing both pain and an unexplainable pleasure. I was so transported by the rush of overwhelming pleasure that I did not notice, or care, that the cold, stone arms now warmly held me tight.

Lips of flesh found mine, a breath of freedom whispered into my ear, the rhythm uniting me with this alien lover so intense it was no longer of my own making. I opened my eyes and dark, black pupils stared back, a sly smile curving the corner of a voluptuous mouth. Surprise quickly faded as an orgasm coursed like a raging river through my body.

Lowering to the ground I felt soft kisses caress my heaving chest, then a hand glided up my thigh and a finger caressed my clit gently. I gave into the pressure and the pleasure, forgetting the odd situation I was in and the non human partner I was with. I felt invaded by another set of hands and lips … and then another and another. But when I opened my eyes there was only the one devotee. The feelings that came over me were more than merely physical, chemical reactions.  It was as if light had fused with my blood and now coursed though my veins.

I felt my body being lifted as if hovering off of the ground, a member entered me once again, piercing like an shaft of bliss … almost painful it was such ecstasy. Something pressed against my lips … I opened my mouth and it was conquered … and then the last opening of my body was filled and the ecstasy was so intense I felt a silent scream rip through me.

Slow movements became harder, hands gliding over my skin on the edge between pain and pleasure. The triple thrusts became more urgent, hands holding head, hip and ass firmly. Faster and faster, and more exquisite, were the sensations until a force akin to a tropical hurricane ripped through and across my body… in places I didn’t know could feel such superb euphoria. I heard a moan like music on the wind ….

My body collapsed at the foot of the statue wrapped in a blanket of erotic rapture. I looked up at the fine figure of stone and my eyes saw that the member once proud and erect was now at rest.  And all I had … was the memory of the senses.

© 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.

April 27, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, romance, Sensual, Uncategorized, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

To Watch or To Touch

Fantasia in corsetYou were sitting in a chair – in a beautiful room – like an old Paris boudoir. Your hands tied behind your back – palms up. You had nothing on but boxers. I walked in – I had my hair tied back – a corset that did not cover my breasts, high heals and a riding crop. I walked up to you – and slowly made my way around you … letting the riding crop glide against your skin. Then I leaned in and asked “Do you want to touch or watch?” You said watch. So I walked away with a grin on my lips … I went and got another chair and sat on it – facing you. I slowly spread my legs, let my fingers slide between the inner folds – spreading them apart so you could see … I started to gently rub. As I got myself more ecxited, I turned the riding crop around and using the handle started pleasuring myself in earnest. But I did not let myslef come. I got up and asked again … touch or watch? this time – with your breath catching in your throat – you said “please .. touch”.

I took a blindfold that had been hanging on the back of the chair and blindfolded you. I then went behind the back of the chair … slowly lowering myself, bedding the knees so that I was facing your back until your fingers – the palm of your hand were receiving all the moisture that was now between my legs. Your fingers eagerly found the clit and you pressed hard, I gasped and you then let a single finger slide in … you moaned when you felt how wet I was. This went on for some time and just as I thought I might come I pulled away. I stood up and leaning into your ear I asked again Touch or watch? You said Watch.

I came around and took the blindfold off. I then bent over and gently kissed the top of your member as it had sprung free. Very gentle – barely there …. then I went and grabbed a strap on. I strapped it to your right knee. Then turning my back to you – I slowly impalled myself on it – and I started to rock back and forth – slightly up and down. I was going to come so I stopped again …. I turned and for the final time – my cheeks flush, my breath catching I asked … Touch or Watch? You said Touch!

I undid the strap on, put the blind fold back on and then grabbed a stool … I placed the stool between your legs and shimmied myself so my ass was barely on the seat – my moist lower lips just at the right height for your mouth and let you finish the job. I came … hard. When the moment passed I undid your hands … told you to count to 20 … and left the room – not to return.

© 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 6, 2009 Posted by | erotica | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments