Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

“What are you doing missy?”

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

She sighed again.

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

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

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

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

She licked her lips again.

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

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

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

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

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

Fresh Paint

The key turned in the door, it opened and there they were. The freshly painted walls of a small but well laid out apartment. The view of the city’s skyline was breathtaking as the sun set with all the over-the-top flare of a cheesy romance novel.

It was as if nothing stood between me and the large river, the trees and the hustle and bustle of the crowd below as I looked down on the tiny ants that were the people going about their business on the sidewalk. Top floor exhilaration. Even if it wasn’t a penthouse, somehow this bird’s-eye view of the world made it feel more special and the unobstructed vista made the small space seem larger.

I made my way to the window, drawn like a moth to a flame by the scenery displayed in the warm orange glow, and stood in front of the window just soaking it all in. I heard the door th-thunk behind me in a pleasant yet firm manner, a jingle of keys on the counter, some geese in the sky practicing their flight pattern squawked and I smelled your gentle cologne moments before your arms wrapped around my waist. “Welcome home“. I smiled as your warm voice and tender words soaked through and started too knead away at the built up tension in my shoulders from days of stress.

It had been a long journey to get here with so many ups and downs and such tremendous uncertainty. Highs and lows had become our new normal. But we had made it.

There was still no furniture. We had bought it all but it had yet to be delivered by the multiple distributors. Much of what we owned was still in storage. I took it all in. These bare walls. Strangely even without a stitch of our personalities to adorn them the place did indeed feel like home.

I leaned back, trusting you with my full weight and just stood with you for many long minutes. I marveled that we were already so comfortable with each other that long drawn out silences weren’t awkward. Your lips found the soft spot near my ear and you kissed me pulling me in and a little up into you. For a moment I was overwhelmed by the deep love emanating from my heart and yours and that little doubt in my head in my mother’s voice “this shit doesn’t happen in real life wake up and smell the coffee!” was silenced. You hugged me as if sensing my internal release.

It took all of 2 minutes to walk around the place when we got to it. It had a small bedroom, living room, den and bathroom and a galley kitchen opening onto the living area. But everything was high end, the hardwood floors clean and the fixtures brand new. This wouldn’t be our final home but for now it would do. It would do very nicely.

Playfully I blitz stripped and let my clothing fall in a pile on the kitchen floor and started running around arms up in the air, my breasts thus lifted I shouted “running naked in the apartment!! Running naked in the apartment!! Running nak….” your own nude body collided with mine as you stood in my way. I giggled and dropped to the floor and took your erect penis in my mouth and sucked.

Not feeling very serious about it all, I moaned in a dramatic act that you knew was my way of poking fun at the porn industry. It included giving you bedroom eyes with an exaggerated fluttering of the eyelashes. You grinned, then laughed and picked me up off the floor. “Oh you….” I kissed you to stop the “cheeky monkey” from escaping your mouth.

Three steps and you had me on the kitchen counter. We had talked about this so often. The only thing missing was the sushi for you to eat off my body. Some day, some day soon. For now you let your hand glide over my stomach. I felt as if I was on an altar and yours to take as you would. Your fingers lingered over my breasts and you pinched my nipples a little harder than needed. My back arched up as I squeaked my surprise.

You leaned over, I watched in admiration the long sinewy muscles of your body, and I reached out and let my digits trail your tendon and muscle definition. You turned me on. Lost in the visual feast that is you, I was almost surprised when your full and warm lips parted me below and you took my clit between your teeth. I moaned and let go of the worries of my life.

Lost in the corporal pleasure of our play I did not even notice you shift from cunnilingus to full on penetrative sex. I don’t know if the lack of décor made the world around me a blank canvas, or the joy of us having our own place was more of an aphrodisiac than I had thought possible, but whatever the reason lost is the only word left to describe the moment. I knew not my body, or mind. I wasn’t me or thinking or concentrating … I was lost in the ecstasy. I came hard.

Dazed, you pulled me off the countertop and laid me down on the hardwood floor. It was … hard. But in the stupor of my afterglow it was a bed of down feathers. Your head on my lap and mine on yours, curled in a ball like a ying and a yang, we relaxed. We didn’t speak. There was no need. We dosed.

I found myself looking in great detail at your member. Its happy little tired head flopped against your inner thigh. I couldn’t resist, I reached out and caressed it lovingly. Before long it was back at attention and we started making love again. But comfort became an issue. No matter what we did, knees, elbows, or in my case some serious hardwood burn, would halt the pleasure. With a sweep of your hand you raised us both and walked us towards the bathroom.

The restroom was disproportionately large for such a small apartment. It was in fact a selling point. No cramped little space. The main feature was the 3 mirrors above the very large counter. The one’s on each end were at an angle following the odd curve of the wall. The result, I soon found out, was that once I was flat on my stomach with my one knee cocked and on the counter as well, the kink in the reflective surfaces meant that we could both see our love making at almost every angle.

At first I was shy about it; not liking to see my own face and expressions reflected so. But when I saw your body flexing and moving in the rhythm of your penetration, the in and slow out of your shaft entering and leaving my cunt, it was like watching us as the leads of our own porn. The entire situation sent me over the edge over and over again.

You plunged deep, deep inside of me. We watched as your prick disappeared and reappeared. I observed through glazed eyes as an orgasm hit my own body. Your core engaged and you curved inwards, your head flipped back, your butt cheeks clenched and I could almost see the tingling, erotic arousal that made your cock-head feel hotter with each movement. Cum poured from your flared tip with long, tired pumps. Your eyes closed and you inhaled as your hose drained the newly built load in tandem with your slow growl of pleasure.

You collapsed on me, our eyes met in the mirror and we both smiled, and then laughed.
I’ll get the camera phone” … and off you went excitedly.

Oh yes, this was home.

October 2, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments