Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

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.

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

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

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

Winter Solstice Ritual

For years she had celebrated alone. Yet, like so many things in the last few months, this too had changed.
 
A part of her was nervous, the other overjoyed. She had become accustomed to being a solitary witch. His presence although exhilarating, also threw her off her game a little. Deep inside her, she knew things would never be the same. She was now truly understanding the level of his commitment to them as a couple. It scared her. It pleased her.
 
 The hard part had been staying awake. As an early bird she was up at 5:30 a.m. by the time 11:30 pm rolled around her eyes were heavy from fighting sleep.Yet for once the ritual would be played out right.

She walked to the thermostat and turned off the heat. In this northern climate the move was a bold one. Yet it was part of the sacrament. To feel in the next half hour the temperature drop slightly was a way to represent the drop in temperature that led to this, the darkest and longest of nights.

On the floor, the bare hardwood floor, she knelt. Feeling him by her side, they lit their respective candles. Her the red for the Goddess, a reflection of all things female. Blood. Life. Him, the Green. The symbol of the male life force, the harsh survival of the forest, the evergreens, the hunt.

They sat quietly meditating side by side, reflecting on the past year. The hopes that had at last come to be reality. They thought of the men and women that had guided them, the wise few that had brought them some bright light of wisdom. They thought of the seeds of potential asleep under the snow within them. They thought of each other …. and hands reached across the floor and clasped tightly.

At midnight – they both lit the white candle left in the center. Untainted white. No fragrance. The symbol of the purity of hope, of new life, of the everlasting spark of joy. They stood and shed their clothing and stepped away, peeling it like old snake skin and leaving it behind. Turning they faced each other and with a natural sponge, they quietly and reverently cleaned each other in warm water.

As the cleansing made it’s way across her flesh she was aware of everything. The scent of the red and green candles, her nipples hardening in the cooling air how her own hand on his chest trembled slightly and the Goosebumps showing. She enjoyed the feel of his hands across her shoulders, her spine, her lower back, her ass and as the wet sponge made it’s way between her thighs her entire being arched into him.

Her own digits wrapped around his manhood, and she pulled him closer. Tonight, they symbolized the God and the Goddess. Slowly as they washed away the fear and failures of the year past, they brought on the moment of purity. La petite Mort. The small death. Orgasm. Winter was, the small death in the wheel of the seasons. Orgasm was, the only time when we as humans, were closest to purity, to Love. The transparency of the moment when closing their eyes, together they felt, from the simple gesture of cleaning one another, of caressing, of holding, pulling, jerking … the ripples of ecstasy flow though them.

The floor was wet, their bodies as well, heaving, arching, rupturing in pleasure – in one blissful moment his white semen surged forward with a deep guttural growl. Her own body responded with a flow of clear liquid. For a split second, they were united in the white, unadulterated light. Back on earth, with flushed cheeks, they finished cleaning each other in breathless silence.

Walking on slightly shaking legs she turned the heat back on. As of today the days would get longer, the slow progress towards spring, summer and fall would start anew.

She turned to see him standing in his naked glory. Her man, her love, her God. Handing her a glass of Champagne he pulled her in for a kiss, deep and passionate.

“May this year fill your heart with the ever lasting spark of hope and joy my love”.

And they fell to the floor and melted into each other anew.

© 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.

***

Happy Winter Solstice everyone … I invite you to share in the comment box your own take on the ritual on this most wonderful of Sabbaths! I’m curious to see what you come up with … go on … don’t be shy! How would you do it?
 
 
 
 

 

December 21, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Tears of Redemption

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain Drop-let

droplet mindIt’s raining. It should be snowing but the temperatures are above seasonal this year. I sit in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace looking out the large bay window onto an empty street. Not a soul stirs, not even the usual stray cats. I’m reading, or trying to, but my attention wavers and I can’t concentrate on my book. It doesn’t have enough substance, the story line weak and the writing mediocre. I look out again, at the dismal landscape and I am overcome by this sense of loneliness.

I feel very much like the rain drop that somehow managed to circumvent the large front porch roof and hit the glass pane before my eyes. It’s so alone, streaking slowly down the dusty surface. Another drop hits the window its velocity far greater, b-lining for the first one still lazily, patiently making its way down. The two drops intersect and merge, suddenly there … for only a moment… they remain thus hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity. Then together they plummet, plunge and dive giddy in their union and disappear from my view.

I close my eyes, becoming that first droplet. I imagine the frightful fall from my familiar cloud. I imagine that strange gust of wind that changes my destination beyond my control. I imagine the pain as I smash into the bay window. I see myself slowly walking, stunned and lost down a dusty road. As I walk I feel my senses come back to me. I hear a bird sing in the distance, I notice the grass on the edge of the road is dry but still alive. I think back on my long journey and lost in thought I don’t see the path up ahead cutting mine horizontally; I don’t hear the sound of the oncoming car.

Suddenly wheels screech, an engine hums and dies and the smell of burning rubber fill’s my nose. My hand reaches out in an automatic reflex at the blinding glint of sun reflecting of metal. My fingers resting on the burning chrome grill, I steady myself. I hear a door open, I look up and there standing before me, is my hearts desire. A combination of worry and anger etched on his face. We stare. He stops in his tracks. His lips move as if trying to say something, his eyes searching mine and looking for some hidden memory in the vaults of his mind. Time stands still for an instant. Recognition or love entwined reunited through time.

No need for introductions we know who we are. He walks quickly towards me, wrapping his arms protectively around me, supportive. “Are you alright?” I nod. I am now.

Standing on my toes, raising my head to his I bring an arm around his neck and pull him down for our lips to meet. We kiss. Long and sweet an all-encompassing embrace that triggers memories lost of our past lives. Reluctant we part a moment. He looks at me as a smile slowly curls the edge of his mouth and he lifts me up, placing me on the hot hood of the car. 

Oblivious to the stinging of my skin from my nearly scalding perch,  forehead to forehead we take in the moment, our breaths caught in our lungs, we are barely able to breath. “I found you” he whispers… a sentence that barely makes sense. I press myself to him wanting to erase lifetimes without his presence from my lonely bones and heart.

His hands glide up my thigh, lingering a moment near my ass, fingers firmly pressing, digging in a little, getting a good grip. It feels so good. I kiss him again with more passion giving him the ok.

My skirt is short and flimsy, offering little in the way of resistance. My blouse low-cut with tiny buttons offering his right hand a challenge in dexterity. One pops open and the blouse falls off one shoulder and his fingers follow hungrily to the cleft between my breasts. He circumvents the small hurdle that is my “balcony” style bra and his hand dips into the cup and scoops my breast slowly, reverently. My leg’s part, allowing him into my personal space even more, he takes a small step forward in response to my invitation.

I feel light headed as our breath runs wild, our kissing eager. He moans deeply as my pelvic bone rubs and grinds into his jean protected crotch. I can feel his heat, his bulge, his desire. I moan myself as I feel the electric tingle intensify as I squeeze my inner walls aching for the fill of him. My clit is bulging outside the protective, defensive barricade of my lower lips, every movement, now, a caress as the fabric of my soaked undies rubs with the rocking back and forth of my hips. His hand finds its way to my cunt, expertly as if he’s known me for centuries and starts a slow and hard figure eight on my clit. My entire body trembles and I hear myself beg “more ….”.

He lowers himself then, his soft warm lips following the same trail his hands had blazed across my flesh. Wet tongue flicks and then follows suit and the small, hard, figure eight resumes against my clit but with the added intensity of the intimacy of oral sex and the heat of his breath. His finger slides inside and starts a gentle simultaneous come hither motion. My head falls back and I collapse on the hood of the car, giving up any pretence of composure.

My head is reeling as emotions and sensations course through and awaken my body. I slide of the edge of the car and find myself face to face with his crotch. He has managed to pull of his belt but that’s all. I undo the button; I carefully pull down the zipper. I pull on the pant leg and watch the white expanse of his underwear bulge in front of my eyes in a pleasing way as his jeans fall in a dark pool of denim around his ankles. I find the opening in his tighty whities and pull his shaft out. The sun is out, and I watch as a single drop of precum appears on the tip like a clear pearl, a rain drop.

I look up into his eyes and his gaze is filled with intense desire, passion and strangely, the knowledge of who we are beyond our names and current bodies. I close my eyes then, breath him in, the scent of him, luxuriate in his presence, in the display being presented on this dusty country road. My mouth opens, my tongue wets my lips … I open my mouth wider still, cradling his balls in one hand and pulling him in closer with the other hand behind a thigh, I plunge and take it all in.

His knees almost buckle. The waiting and anticipation is getting to him. The warmth, the moisture, the suction, the rhythm, the sight of me, my breasts sitting outside my bra, my skirt around my waist, my hand playing with the folds of my inner most self, the sun in my hair … release, pull back, release, pull back…. Drops of saliva slide down my chin and drip drop into the dry soil along with my moisture. The sandy dirt begging as loudly for the wetness as his hot cock is begging for release in my mouth. He tenses and I stop.

I stand and lay back on the car, pulling him towards me. His cock is poised at the right height as I lift one leg up and place it on his shoulder. My finger never leaving my clit, he has an open passage before him.

He groans as he fights to not come just from the sight. The heat of his body against mine is almost unbearable. I feel it then, the pressure of his cock head against my slick cunt. There – on the brink – he pauses and holds. We stop breathing a moment. He presses slowly, but lingers at the entrance, slowly … so slowly the walls give way easily but the penetration is barely occurring. I can’t feel the rim of his pulpy head inside. The sensation is blissful and we savour it as my finger continues its little crop circles on my clit. I lift and he leans in and he takes me, fully, deeply and utterly. Tears of joy flow from my deep blue eyes and as they fall on the car, sizzle away in the heat. He pulls out and my fingers almost loose rhythm, we steady and start anew. He enters, I lift and press in, his hand holds me steady, my leg holding his weight, he pulls out, I circle on my clit… repeat.

We dance like this under the sun, on the deserted road for an eternity and a moment in time. The giddy frenzy comes upon us; we lose ourselves in the sensations of our union. Our breath catches, he tries to hold off and yet … I come and as my flood gates release and the damn is broken and he witnesses the total abandon of my body and my soul, he pumps a little harder, a slight aggressive deepness, the tingle in his balls causes a tensing in his core… and for a moment time stands still … hanging, hovering defying the laws of gravity suspended in time and we plunge together into the crazy free fall of ejaculation and orgasm.

He collapses over me, his half hard member still inside. Catching our breath we start to chuckle as the smell of evaporating sex juices hits our nostrils. He pulls up his pants, I pull down my skirt, button my blouse; he helps me with the last of the tiny buttons between kisses. He takes a step back, holds out his hand and says “come…” and I do.

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

November 3, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

The Twinkle In His Eyes

I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in a chair in the darkest recess of the room, far enough to not encroach on our personal space. The few meters remind me of some sort of cruel social distancing rule. His pants are in a puddle at his feet; his shirt open, his breath is carefully monitored as his hand grips his cock in a death like choke hold.

I know he can see me there on all fours. Like some bitch in heat. In a way I am. I’m always ready for my man. Something about my Love has me in a constant state of arousal. Our Voyeur has eyes that see. He is watching as my Lover glides effortlessly inside, as my breasts sway from side to side with the rhythm of our play. I can see him appreciate the scene unfolding before him.

My Lover wants to turn me over. I am happy to oblige. He grabs my ass cheeks and my right leg gracefully sweeps around his hip. The muscles in my calf flex and I know our Watcher is observing every move; I point my toes like a dancer as I ride closer to pleasure.

The Voyeur’s hand is stroking his cock now dripping with precum, and murmuring to me under his breath, barely audible but enough for my head to snap out of my dream state and look at him. His eyes are glistening with volumes of pent up desire and my eyes focus on his hand. He asks me if I want it. I laugh internally – why did the fool think he was here? Had he really planned on staying out of it and just watch?

I open my mouth slowly, let my lips part and my white teeth peek through. Half off the bed, I am on my back, my breasts are high and my nipples’ pointing to the ceiling, my Lover is steady and perfectly bringing me to the edge of the abyss. My tongue wets my lips and I open my mouth again. I reach a hand over in the Voyeurs general direction … almost pointing to the cock he is mock waving at me.

I hear my Lover burst out laughing and for a moment the sensuality is lost as we all chuckle. Our guest is suddenly embarrassed. Not for himself but for breaking the code. He interrupted the moment, broke our concentration and the flow. It doesn’t last long, as my Love, still buried deep within me, takes my hair and turns my head towards our guest as he kisses, then bites my neck hard. The sharp and sudden pain is a sweet thrill that makes me gasp. In that moment our invitee breaks his own rules, and slips his cock between my parted, plump lips.

It’s all very fluid and unreal as he fucks me and I mouth fuck him and I grip my love with one hand and our Voyeur with the other. Bodies, fantasies, taboos and time are suspended. I feel the ache of desire pulse deep inside. My eyes close, I breathe with short gasps with a shaft in my mouth to cater to. The feeling of bliss is coming from the work of my Lovers well behaved cock causing the trembling walls of my cunt to hum in a pleasing frenzy. His strong arms and solid body thrill me; the hard muscles of his well-developed thighs feel wonderful against the smoothness of my own legs.

My whole being is swimming under the assaults. The forbidden is such a naughty turn on. I jolt high up hard against the driving rod to welcome it. The cocks are hitting deep as they start to dance out of control, bucking fiercely, plunging my body toward a climax. But I wait. I wait …. wait.

Finally the jizm rises like a phoenix and the screaming members and roaring throats explode in a sea of hot sand and fill the bucking cavity of my cunt and throat. It comes in explosive surges causing my body to rock from head to toe, boiling, steaming eruptions of frothing cream to wet and paint my insides. Soothed at last.

Opening my eyes to the clap of thunder, I roll toward my love grabbing his cock between my naked thighs before he is fully awake. “I just had the most amazing dream“I tell him. The twinkle in his eyes as he turns his head to look at me makes me wonder momentarily.

September 25, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

The Salon – Challenge II

“Let’s get together some time! Call me!” How often have we said or heard this and not followed through? With that in mind this is my new challenge!! Ah yes … I know you’ve all been sitting on the edge of your seats waiting impatiently for this since the last one. *chuckle*

I want you to imagine a Salon. Like in the olden days when people of great intellect and talent would congregate in some famous location to exchange ideas and feel inspired or while away time during writers block or a Muses vacation. In this case I am the lady, Duchess, in question. I am the patron, the great mind and talent collector. Oh come on … it’s my challenge!

Duchess Fantasia de Lillith invites you to Le Manoire to share …. Share what? Ahhhh yes, good question. Good question indeed!!

Imagine we are all lavishly costumed (period of your choice – time and space play no part here!) and we are discussing … ah… Oh, you will have to wait and read the intro I wrote below to get the ball rolling.

How is this a challenge?:

On October 10th, 2009 (10/10/09) I shall post all your entries for the Salon Conversation – my only interference will be in connecting your words to create a fluid story line. They will be entered in the order they are received. Talk about collaboration!

Here are the rules:

– Describe yourself (like an avatar) and your perception of your surroundings.
– The “voice ” is that of talking to me and/or other equals in the room!
– Feel free to add some internal monologue if needed.
– No vanilla! Off the edge, outside your comfort zone.
– More than 200 words – less than 400. I will use a word count so don’t disqualify yourself!
– Entries must be received by October 8th, 2009 (10/08/09). I appreciate if you let me know in advance that you are planning to enter the challenge so that I may start creating the poll. Send to fantasia.lillith@gmail.com .

What’s in it for me?:

Awe come on!!! Really? Alright… fine. Besides the opportunity to shed light on your darker side, as patron of your art I shall grant you a PRIZE!! I will personally donate to your charity of choice (must be registered) the $ amount equal to the highest number of hits for a single day over the two week period the challenge will be live on my site. This could be a substantial donation!

How do I win?:

Competitive much? Jeeez!! I did not want to be the judge, just in case there might be some conflict of interest (I know some of you personally now!!) So I came up with this formula;

The largest amount of comments posted regarding your fantasy + the number of votes for you (via poll) = A number

… the story with the highest number wins. Simple. Yes, people have to comment AND vote!! Ooooh …. Think you can rally your troops? If this works – there may be more than one Salon!

So … without further ado (I do SO love that word) allow me to set the stage:

*****

Leaning against the massive, ornately carved, marble fireplace; I carefully sipped from the small crystal glass a sweet elixir of unknown origin left to me by one of my many past suitors. Its flavor was exquisite and every time I had a glass I felt as if years had been lifted from me. A feeling that turned out to be real and long lasting. I sipped it carefully not wanting to overdo it and give away the secret to my agelessness.

I reveled in my young body. The corset I had on made my bosom heave most seductively, the men, and some women, in the room could only stare with intense desire. The deep teal and emerald chinoiserie of my satin kimono swished in a series of tiny claps and whispers and I turned to face the large, yet welcoming room, exposing my legs and bare feet as I flopped gracefully onto the chaise longue of my Salon.

A handsome young lad, in livery of the same hues, took my now empty glass and I petted his firm ass as he left causing the most pleasing blush to color his cheeks. I sighed. I’d have to replace him soon as he got used to me having my way with him. His charm was in his not quite submissive shyness. I was sure I’d find a fine home for him among my Ladies. Oh that lovely discomfort was all too ephemeral.

A young and voluptuous middle eastern girl settled behind me and started to coif my long and unruly curls into an intricate “do” for that evening’s gala. Her soft and supple fingers never pulled a hair, and the scent of jasmine and her warm body made her delectable. My shoulders now exposed, I relaxed… Ah yes, this one I’d keep in my service a long time.

A few regulars, that liked to stay at Le Manoire, were already assembled before me. Soon others would join. An air of debauchery hung between us from last night’s foray, most of my guests still languid and at ease. I tossed a subject out for today’s discussion:

“I have this fantasy” … All heads snapped up, eyes glistening and ears eager to hear more.
“One I have not heard, Duchess?” says my consort as he brushes his hand lovingly across the full expanse of my bosom and leans in to kiss the beauty mark on my right breast.
“Yes, even you don’t know this one …. Awww love… don’t look so hurt… allow me some air of mystery”. A snort or two emanate from our guests. It is my turn to blush.

“As I was saying ….” I continue with a coy smile and a raised eyebrow … I have this fantasy”. I stop, suddenly a little unsure, take a deep shuddering breath, showing a rare glimpse of the vulnerable side of me.

“ I am in a large box. A very large box, almost like a small room. All around me are holes. Poking out of the holes are penises of every size and race. Wrapped around them are gems, or money in form of …. Payment …..” The silence in the room shows the shock some are feeling. The idea of The Duchess as a paid whore doesn’t sit well with some. My consort’s hand steadies on my shoulder. I kiss his palm before continuing.

“I take the payments … or … offerings … and suck” I place my consort’s finger in my mouth and demonstrate. His breath hisses audibly across the room “ … suck so much cock and end up covered in cum from head to toe. They can see me and what I am doing on a small screen outside the box, but they remain anonymous to me. I only know them as an endless sea of shafts.” I spread my legs gracefully to show that just talking about this has made me so moist, that a small trail is glistening on my inner thigh and has wetted my satin under garment. I sit up. Then suddenly stand up flustered.

“How is it that we can fantasize about those things that would, in reality, actually turn our stomachs? Things we would never, no matter how free we are in our sexual selves, actually do. Things that are in direct violation with who we are and our moral code? Do any of you have such fantasies? Am I … alone in this?”

I close my eyes, and walk back to the fireplace waiting for the heavy silence to be broken by a brave soul willing to share…. It lingers, like the elephant in the room, as my guests grapple a moment with their darker side. I sigh and wait.

September 17, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 36 Comments