Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Yes Indeed…

A request … written in 20 min flat – no editing – pure as it came out of my head! All I had to go on was:

 “A red-head with fire in her eyes”.

Hope you enjoy it. This was fun. I like these flash sessions. If anyone else has a request, let me know – perhaps I will make it a habit to “reward” my faithful followers with such personalized morsels!


She sat there in the corner of the cafeteria crying. People walked past her, most not even noticing the gentle tremble of her shoulders, and those that did seemed embarrassed by it hurrying on by as fast as they could to avoid having to “do something” feigning ignorance of the obvious pain.

He had gone to this place to people watch – a favourite pastime. Had noticed the striking red head arrive with fire in her eyes, confidence in her step and a stunning smile that made everyone grin back no matter their mood. Not skinny but far from overweight, she carried herself well, was elegant in her mannerism and had a wonderful whimsy sense of style that spoke of a playful nature and a love of colour.

He could faintly smell her. She smelled of passion, of intensity … of sex. One of those women that you see and immediately you imagine yourself plunging into her wetness, losing yourself in her deep folds, her arms and the satin touch of her fingers. Instantly your cock raises to salute and desperately wants… aches… desires. Any grown man is condemned to act like the teenager yet unable to control his dick. He could almost hear the moans and whispers she would make. A women that made mere men feel like kings. A rare bread. A breath of passion in a dull existence. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Moments later a man showed up and joined her. The obvious ying to her yang, his presence was like a thunderstorm approaching. She beamed like the sun trying to pierce the thick black clouds of turmoil that surrounded him. He sat, across from her, the weight of the world on his shoulder and a look of self imposed importance crossing the smile that resembled a smirk. Instantly dis-likable. Yet she laughed with honest gaiety, cajoled and kissed him – for a moment she was rewarded with a smile that never reached his eyes.

He held her hand – looking as if he was about to tell her some terrible news, a death perhaps? Her eyelashes fluttered. Watching from a distance he managed to lip read her anguished “why” and then the man – shrugged his shoulders, got up and left her.

Stunned – he watched her entire body language change. Her little world had crumbled. She reached out into the air – as if to silently call him back. Tears flowed from her bright green eyes. In this vulnerable and public place she had been dumped. It was shocking. It was unforgivable. He watched the lovely red head falter, the flame flickering in her as if a gust of wind threatened to snuff her out any moment. He couldn’t just sit there any longer.

Grabbing his courage by the proverbial horns he got up, made his way to the coffee shop, bought a decaf mocha chino and made his way to her.

He sat down carefully, timid. Reached over and placed the beverage in front of her.

She stared at it – lost in her thoughts not seeing it at first behind the curtain of damp tears. Without thinking she picked it up and took a sip. Her eyes went wide and she finally looked at the man sitting across from her. She smiled and took another sip. His hand reached out to gently caress the back of hers and just as quickly was gone.

“You deserve better” he whispered.

“How do you know?” she replied.

“I know.” Was all he added.

In silence he kept her company while she sipped her drink and he watched the subtle signs of returned composure. Her tears were slowly replaced by curiosity. Her scent lingered in his brain playing with him – toying like a pair of ghost hands rolling his balls gently back and forth, a set of perfect ghost lips surrounding his …..

“Where a door closes – another opens?” she giggled into her hot beverage.

“Indeed” he blew out breathless.

Yes indeed…

May 10, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, romance, temptation | , , | 17 Comments

“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

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

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 Red of Blood

If I was inclined to vampirism I would have an unfair advantage. No need for dental enhancements. These babies are real. Fangs. I have them and they are hard to miss although not distractingly obvious either. The irony of my ancestry is almost a cruel cliché.  Eastern European without any doubt, with the large almond blue eyes, high cheek bones, pale, smooth white skin and oval face with a slightly pointed chin.

The thing is, even without trying I have some tendencies that occasionally make me wonder if my father may have been right when he claimed a direct blood line to Vlad the Impaler. Charming ancestry indeed, but I can’t deny that I love to bite. I don’t mean a little nibble here and there. I am not talking a love bite … no. I mean full on, let my teeth sink into your flesh and leave a bruise. Claiming you like some animalistic temporary tattoo.

There is a wonderful French expression that translates to “Chase the natural and it will come galloping back”. It’s true. Psychologist claim that the desire to bite your partner has two components. One is female specific, that to bite with the mouth is a oral demonstration of what the cunt walls wish they were doing. Clamping down on the object of desire. The other is a form of territorial branding. When I read this all I could do was nod in ascent. What they don’t say is how good it feels when my lips part and I taste the smooth skin of my lover, and my tongue sweeps across his delicate flesh and I taste the salt of him and then my teeth place themselves carefully, my jaw clamps down, the most euphoric feeling is released into my body. Like a small adrenaline rush. It’s heady and intoxicating. The pathetic whimper that usually comes out of the man in question, on the other hand, isn’t.

That’s how I knew he was different.

I had been seeing him for a little while, we had finally kissed and moved on to heavy petting. Something I enjoyed tremendously since it had been a very long time and, in all honesty, it made me feel young again. Teenage-like even. It was wonderful. I had bitten him repeatedly. A few times almost drawing blood and his reaction was a deep growl of lust, a most extraordinary hardening of his manhood and hands that would grip and dig with flames of desire into my own flesh. The time had come – we both needed a day to explore each other in peace; so we planned it …carefully. Nothing over the top, nothing fancy – but we did book a motel room with a fireplace, neither one of us resisting the Hallmark corny romance of it. Coordinating our crazy schedules was half the battle but in the end we found the time and a safe and warm place to finally make love.

I woke up that morning with a headache from hell, and cramps that would cull the strongest in the herd. I was reminded of those slightly humorous adds of mother nature handing women a red box as a gift at the worst possible time and the women, using some brand of tampon, was alright and oblivious to the inconvenience. I had my period. Mine are brutally painful for 48 hours. I showered, managed to shave my legs, took 3 extra strength Advil and got in the car to meet him. I wasn’t sure what to do.

I turned the corner and saw him there. He looked up and quietly smiled as I parked the car and got out. His brooding face now ablaze with a tender smile and an intense light of pure desire emanating from his amber and hazel eyes. My heart sank at having to tell him that I really wasn’t going to be up for it. He saw my body language and immediately came over and wrapped his arms around me. Concern writ all over his handsome features. “Mon amour …. what is it?” his pleasant and comforting voice asked. I buried my face in his chest. “I am so sorry, but ………….” I couldn’t’ say it. He lifted my face up to his, saw how upset I was and would not move. “Just tell me – what can I do?”. Tears of frustration threatened and a sudden excruciating cramp causing terrible pain made me double over. He held me, now utterly taken aback and uncertain. I half laughed though clenched teeth… “You could rub my tummy and just hold me? … I ….ugh …. I have my period and…” I never finished my sentence as he swept me up in his arms and walked us into the hotel room after some interesting key maneuvers to get the door open whilst carrying my full weight.

He lay me on the bed.

Gently and carefully he undressed me except for my undies leaving the tampon and thick ugly pad out of site. I was grateful. He then tucked me under the covers, kissed me on the forehead and caressed my cheek longingly and walked away to turn on the fireplace and to make a cup of tea. I snuggled in the sea of pure white pillows as my aching body relaxed. I dozed a short time and woke up in a dream like state. I grinned at the feel of his naked body against mine under the sheets and his breath in my neck. His hands ever so slowly making tiny little circles on my stomach. I turned to lay on my back and look at him. He never stopped making the little circles. He had taken the “you can rub my tummy” very literally it seemed. I was happy to let him. It was simply nice to be naked together. He leaned in and kissed me tenderly. His hand now explored the contours of my body. He looked at and was mesmerized by every inch of me.

He sucked my toes, murmured at how perfect my tiny ankles are, described and let his lips glide the length of the long expanse of my legs, paying attention to the delicate and sensitive skin behind my knees. He kissed my stomach, rolled me over on my side and caressed my ass. His breath held a long moment as he gazed at it stretching the cotton of my panties and let it go when he came in for a kiss and a bite of his own. He followed the vertebrae of my spine, let his fingers linger at the small of my neck. As I relaxed even more into his caress, it hit me that this man had managed to make me feel sensual on the worst possible day. The hurt was still there but every time my body tensed his hand would find some spot to massage and it would pass.

I found my body letting go of the pain. I opened up to him and breathed deeply and started to discover his body visually and then, my fingers started their own exploration. His hard athletic build, his beautiful ass that made me want to dry hump him, strong yet slender legs and his erect and beautiful spike. It stood there. Without a doubt, he was painfully aroused.

Shockingly, I found myself getting excited.

We had ended up switching positions as he now lay on his back. I straddled him and let my mouth, tongue, teeth and fingers explore him. His scent filled my nose. Like a blood hound I smelled him engraving his unique fragrance to my memory bank. I stooped and watched as the thick vein in his neck pulsed with the beating of his heart. His hands at his side he left himself completely open to my gaze and my hunger for him. I let the tip of my nose follow the curve of his jaw, then to the soft spot below the earlobe. My tongue danced and followed the pulsing track until I couldn’t take it any longer and I bit him, hard. His hands grabbed my hips and pushed me down. Even through the padding I felt his hard shaft increase in heat. He moaned and gasped for air. My face in his neck I followed the tiny trail still and bit again, this time my hand on his face, as his mouth opened to groan again I let two fingers slide deep into his mouth and down his throat.

He fought the gag reflex and arched his back into me with violent passion. I bit again and let my fingers slide out and heard his hiss in my ear. My wet fingers found his nose that I pinched closed and I came up to kiss his mouth… his mouth and lips made for the battle of love play. I held the embrace until his chest opened up in an attempt to draw air that failed. His Adams apple dances furiously. I let go and he breathed a deep chattering breath. Never did he display fear. He was hard, he was hot and he wanted more.

I continued our play, alternating between gagging, biting and suffocating him gently. I could not believe how much hotter and harder his member was becoming, and I worried that if he didn’t have release soon things would go beyond rough play to actual pain. I wrapped my lips around his shaft and he gripped the sheets so hard he nearly ripped them. From that lower vantage point I looked up at the sight before me. And saw that as I had wiggled my way down from straddling his chest, to his hips, to his thighs to my current position I had left a trail.

A trail of bright crimson red blood.

I froze. My stillness must have gotten him out of his stupor a moment as he lifted his head and looked down at me. I held my breath. I had bled through, and the white sheets now looked like some violent act of crime had been committed. He looked at his chest, let his finger slide on the blood and then …. He smiled. A big, thrilled and excited smile. My heart leaped. He sat up, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me to the shower.

Turning the hot water on, we stepped under the stream and a blanket of steam embraced us. I took off my now drenched undies and tossed them out of sight. One leg lifted up on the ledge, he found the little white string, and pulled removing the now engorged and useless tampon. I had never believed such an act could be so utterly erotic. It was. There under the water, blood was washed away, and I kneeled down to continue to apply lavish attention on his member. Fingering myself I was startled to see that the moisture on my fingers was not blood…. But lubrication. I was beyond horny. I was in love.

Pushing me up against the shower wall, he spread my legs apart and went down on me. “No … you don’t have to …” his gaze told me all I needed to know. He wanted to. I didn’t fight it then. “It comes from you. And you are beautiful … relax …” I did. My body forgot about pain, discomfort and I let go of preconceived notions of what was right or wrong or clean or not. His head between my thighs, his tongue on my clit I let the hot water and rush of orgasm flood and wash over me. My knees buckled and he held me up. Wrapping me in a big towel. He turned the shower off and led me back to the bed.

It was his turn.

I tried not to feel embarrassed at the blood on the sheets. Nor at the small drop of blood trailing down my inner thigh. He was going to have his way with me and there was little I could – or wanted – to do about it. Towel on the bed, I climbed up and in doggy position, offered him my rear. His shaft was hard to the point of pain, his balls full and his desire real. He let his hands roam on my ass a few times as I relaxed into his touch again and then … he took me.

His shaft entered slowly at first. He watched as he impaled me and then pulled out. The sight of blood covering his manhood drove him nearly over the edge right then. It was primal. Intense. Like taking my virginity but not. He plunged in again and the blood trickled down towards his balls. Leaning on my shoulder I brought a hand up to play and tease my clit. Blood pooling a little in the palm of my hand. I felt it then. Our orgasm. We were coming and we were coming hard. He lunged, I quivered, he pulled I moaned. The walls clasped, his cock pulsed and the jism flowed pink as he screamed in tandem with me and we collapsed in sheer ecstasy on the white towel.

I realized that moment that he was not like any other lover I had ever had.

October 27, 2009 Posted by | erotica | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 46 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


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

… and perhaps that is not entirely true.

Perhaps I always knew it would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now here we are

… face to face.

For the last time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spartan Warrior

by E.H.Oh my Love, how far away you seem to me these days. The reality of our separation starting to sink into my heart, my soul , my body. How I ache for you day and night and worry if you are well. I wonder when you might return to my side… if you will return at all … and I dream of you … even when I am not asleep.

Just a moment ago I was getting undressed to take a shower; I folded my clothes and was turning on the tap, my toes feeling the warm rush over them as water gushed out of the faucet. I was tying up my long hair so it wouldn’t get wet when I felt your touch on my shoulder … I turned, my heart leaping for joy … but you were achingly absent. I smiled then, at my own folly, and my heart squeezed at the memory of our last kiss … that delicate, gentle sweep of soft lips that can only be yours.

I stepped through the shower door and heard it thud shut behind me with a grating screech. You had meant to fix that before you left. I allowed the humidity to envelope me like a blanket and let the water cleanse,
my face,
my chest,
my stomach.
My hands lathering up all of me,
my feet,
my ankles,
my thighs … my sex.
I closed my eyes and relaxed; leaning back allowing the water to rinse everything away. The dirt of the day, my sorrow … and found your firm, wet and ever so masculine body supporting me. This time I knew better then to open my eyes and have you vanish again.

I sighed, your hands wrapped around my waist, your fingers spread across my stomach and I could hear your breath in my ear, feel your lips on my neck. Such a familiar moment. So reassuring. You pulled me into you further, your hands continuing their exploration of my body, always feeling new although they have been there a thousand times. You started to gently massage my shoulders, my lower back … I relaxed into you, into your presence.

I felt your hunger then, pressing against the curve above my ass. A hot undeniable presence. Without opening my eyes, I turned and let my chest rest on yours as my hand slowly made it’s way to your penis now against my stomach between us. Your lips engulfed mine and your kiss was hot, violent and desperate, as if this was the one thing keeping you alive. The water rushed around us, and our hair became hot and wet like our bodies. You picked me up off the floor, without much effort, and with my back now against the shower wall you pressed your entire body against mine. Your desire now so intense it almost frightened me. Almost.

I whispered sweet and tender loving words and you released me, putting me down gently, like a precious flower you sheltered me with your body against the jets of water. I kneeled, letting my fingers trace the pattern of your muscles and let my hand surround your shaft. My eyes still closed for fear of breaking this spell that united us. I placed a single kiss on the hot tip of your member. It always stands so straight and at attention … almost in salute. I took it into my mouth, beautiful, warm, hard and yet silky soft and heard you gasp for air. I let my tongue dance around the sensitive edge and took it all in, deep into my throat. Your hands grasped my head and your hips jerked forward. My mouth keeping you safe inside.

I let it slip out as I felt your hands reach bellow my armpits to lift me off my knees. You wanted more of me and the need was urgent as if our time was counted …. always counted. I tried to slow you down, and you did for a moment – we traded places and your warm breath, the softness of your tongue and that perfect pressure drove me to my own hectic frenzy. Without warning as I barely stood swooning, you had me up against that shower wall again, and this time there was no stopping you. Your member caressed the opening now slick with my own juices, searching for the right angle for entry, and suddenly,
you were in me.

Strong thrusts, slow and powerful kept me pinned; your face against mine – our breath catching and our moans increasing, without a care in the world we abandoned ourselves to this escape from loneliness. The pleasure of being one – of being together. You came as I did, and wept into my hair with the release. Crying my name, whispering your joy at having me in your life and the regret … for the pain your absence causes me. I held you in my arms until the water started to turn cold … and then I made the mistake of wanting to see your handsome face and opened my eyes … and you were gone.

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

April 19, 2009 Posted by | erotica, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Dinner for Two – Part II

F by E.H.She watched him clear the table of the many small dishes and walk towards the kitchen. Feeling left behind, she decided to follow instead of waiting for his return. She loved how he walked and moved, his gait reminding her of a black panther. Sleek, sensual, graceful and potentially deadly. He was so much man, with strong shoulders and a cut, hard body she couldn‘t resist. His eyes always brimming with love even under pressure and full lips begging for a kiss. How could she not have fallen for him? It was his mind, his laughter, shoe fetish that had played in her favor, and deep passionate soul that had intrigued her. A complicated man, but she loved him for it. What she loved most about him, however, was so grandiose she could barely stand to think about it too long oft she be swallowed by the enormity of the precious gift.

She had always found that the men in her life only liked one of her many personas; a handful at best. She could one moment be a child in need of a father to look after her, the next a strong, powerful, independent woman followed moments later by one who was gentle and caring only to change into the dominant woman that pins her man to the bed, biting and scratching her unsuspecting pray. It was never an act or roll playing; she really was all these women. He loved it. Genuinely loved “them” all and rolled with the waves, laughing with her all the way. He thrived on her unpredictability and she desperately needed him to be free … to be herself. He was her freedom. And the thought of loosing him could send her into a frenzied panic. To love this way was such a gift, but it also made her incredibly vulnerable. Yet with him … she had allowed it.

Once in the kitchen she looked around, noticing the extra ventilation and air-conditioning … and exclaimed in delight at the massive stainless steel prepping station. She let her hand glide against the cold, unforgiving metal. A tantalizing thought popping into her naughty little head.

She waited for him to turn around from the large walk-in fridge. Saw her lover standing there with a plate of dessert assortments in each hand, and slowly… achingly slow, pulled her dress over her head. His jaw dropped at the same time as her dress hit the ground. She smiled inside, feeling satisfaction at being able to still catch him off guard. She was now naked, except for an exquisite pair of high heeled sandals and her earrings. She could see his mind making the observation at the lack of undergarments translate into a wicked smile as he put down the plates. She felt daring and beautiful in his eyes. She never got tired of that feeling.

Gracefully pulling herself onto the table, kicking off the shoes as she did so, she lay down on the cold metal. The shock gave her shivers and her nipples suddenly pointed straight up, hard and at attention. She heard him take a deep, appreciative breath and walk over. He leaned over her and she felt her heart give way as she looked into his eyes. His hands glided up and down her thighs and backside, his head lowered and his lips hungrily came in, then hovered just above her own, as he took in the scent of her breath. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in his embrace.

Creating a sort of blind fold out of a kitchen towel, he draped it over her eyes and asked her to guess what miniature dessert was being trailed along her skin. If she guessed correctly he would feed it to her; sometimes with his fingers, sometimes holding it between his teeth, dropping it into her eager mouth. If she guessed incorrectly he would get the tasty morsel for himself. The melting chocolate, fruit, ice cream and other delicacies mingling with his hot breath and hand between her thighs was making her wet. She could feel her body react, sense her body lift and arch to meet him.

Still blind, she felt him take her hand and place it on his chest. She let it glide over smooth skin; he had taken off his shirt. Even with her eyes covered she could recall the ridges of muscle. She found his nipple and pinched it hard, hearing him let out a small moan. She loved the feel of him. She couldn’t believe how soft his skin was, how good he always smelled, and how much heat he always radiated. Oh she wanted him. She could feel her thighs part in welcome, and removed the towel wanting to see him. She held on to him, bringing him in close and pulling at the belt of his pants asking him to take her. Now … please.

He resisted wanting to delay a little longer his own pleasure and reached for a jar of honey. It was an old jar, and the lid stuck. She giggled nervously as she lay there – the cool air of the room a shocking contrast to her own heated excitement. With his strong hands he finally got it open after several achingly long minutes. The build up was … exquisite.

Holding the small, glass container high above, tilting it ever so slowly so that the thick, golden nectar lazily made it’s way to the rim …she saw him smile. She knew he would not fail to notice that her skin had gone from satin smooth to covered in small, delicate goose bumps … the anticipation of that first, sickly sweet drop hitting her flawless skin had her quacking, shivering, almost trembling in anticipation. The liquid languidly made it’s way … a single drop leading the charge like a scout on a mission to find new exotic lands. It landed … and spread … enveloping a nipple, coating it and claiming it in it’s sticky trap.

His tongue followed, sucking the honey off, pursuing the trail down to her navel, her abs, her cunt. He parted the swelling lips and brought the flat of his tongue upward in a wide sweep. This man was making her pussy cry tears of anticipation before he was even inside. He stabbed in far enough to find her clit with his tongue and rolled it from side to side with increasing speed. The faster he went the more animated she became; she could feel her ass was lifting off the stainless steel and her thighs were clamping closed around his head. He made a deep digging probe inside her flowing gash, to feel the gushing softness.

He came out and went back to her clit and again she reacted with full abandon. She knew he had total power over her right now, with the key to her happiness in his mouth, the most sensitive spot, but with him she was free, she was safe. Her firm ass was rubbing up hard against his chin, her hips were smashing hungrily at his sucking face as a passionate climax enveloped her. His whole head was buried between her humping legs as the payoff of sweet wetness flowed happily from her.

The two liquids had mingled in his mouth and when he kissed her on the lips – as she lay there, in the delight of the after glow – his kiss smelled of honey and sex. The whole situation made her light headed. Her crotch glistened with health as she sat up on the prepping station. She watched as his eyes traveled from her breasts to her pussy, to the sleek legs and back to the beige-pink nipples. Her excitement grew again when she saw him take off his belt, kick off his shoes and slide his hand inside his trunks and work them over his erection and down his legs.

As soon as she saw the tip of his member pop into sight, she couldn’t help but slid off the table to her knees and go to him like a praying sinner. Her mouth opened as she tilted her head up to engulf the dazzling beauty of his firm rod. She loved his penis. There was no shame in that. She made sure he could feel her tits caressing his thighs as she pumped her sucking mouth up and down. She sucked hard an pulled back with her teeth softly grating his member, then letting her tongue apply hard pressure to the soft tissue of the head, and back down. Repeating the motion over and over she knew she was driving him to the point of no return… stop. She was aching to feel him inside of her. She rose, brushing her nipples against his penis, his stomach, his chest on her way up; now it was he who was covered in goose bumps. Finally she wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust the flat of her stomach against his. Letting the heat of her pussy tantalizing his hard cock.

It was still up. Erect, stiff, ready. She wrapped a hand around the massive base and slowly urged him back to the stainless steel prepping station. She sat with her legs apart, the gleaming red lips of her inner self stretched up and out to give him a good look. Her legs parted even wider as he reached down a put a finger into her. The soaked lips slid easily apart to expose the boiling pinkness. He slipped a second finger into the hole and touched the super-soft lining of her smoothness. She sighed. He came back out and worked up to the lumped knob of her clitoris. As he pressed hard against it she shivered, the nipples of her breasts immediately starting to draw up to puckered cones. She loved how well he knew her body. Working her clit back and forth as his mouth came down once again to suck at each taut nipple, to draw it in deep and bounce it between his teeth.

Her hand was pumping with regulated speed along his manhood. But she could tell that he was as ready as she was for more. A growing need to unit had built between them and the time had come. He lifted her off the table and gently laid her down on top of her dress on the floor, and crawled into position between her legs. He eased himself inside the warm, firm grip of her pussy. She raised her hips to take more of him. At long last he was home. The movement was smooth, exact and precisely what they both wanted.

It started slow, very slow. He wanted to feel the tender kiss of her vagina along his rod. The movements began to speed up and before long, she felt herself erupt with another orgasm sending the whole length of her walls into clapping spasms along his spike. It was like a thousand tiny hands jacking him off, digging into the rim of the glands, embracing his cock like a welcomed hero. He was coming. His back was aching from strain when he finally felt it.

It started off as a thought in the back of his mind and just grew. His head was reeling, sweat dripped from his temples, spiraling down those curls, each breath was a lurching gasp as the though became a true physical feeling somewhere down by his knees. It spread upward to numb his thighs and make his balls feel ten times their normal size and he frothed over with one constant pumping action that didn’t end until he was empty.

He collapsed onto the wonderful cushion of her breasts, and the comfortable hug of her happy arms around his shoulders. The cream seeped from his now softening penis to glue them together … he smiled inwardly. Oh yes, the stories these old stones would tell.

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

April 11, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual, Uncategorized | , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Dinner for Two – Part I

F by E.H.He was passionate about very few things – but those things that did spark a flame in his soul and awakened him, he embraced fully, totally and without reservation.

His first Love was history. He connected with the whispers that ruins still chanted after centuries of neglect had left there mark. If only they could talk, those old stones, what stories they would tell! Surely not the ones written by mere men.

His latest project had truly been a labor of love. He caressed the walls, no longer covered by sand and marveled. Despite the perils of the passage of time; each arch, stone wall and carving had managed to survive. Even defying an incalculable number of waves thumping incessantly against the sloped outer walls. This had been the cities old dungeons, where offenders were imprisoned, tortured, and if they were lucky, before long executed.

He had bought the place and somehow found a way to fund it’s restoration. He sat a moment at a table, looking at the resurrection before him. His place. His restaurant. Tomorrow “Sands of Time” opened to the public. But tonight …. Tonight …

His second Love was Food. Food for him was not merely sustenance but pure delight. Nothing in this world was as wonderful as the sensual feeling of a delicate flavor, crossing the tongue or the sweet scent of the perfect mix of spices, herbs and wine. Food was not just building blocks for the body, but an expression of the soul. He loved it all. Simple meals of quality ingredients, complicate masterpieces or best of all, surprising combinations he would never have thought up on his own. How he admired those in the kitchens and envied that gift in them. As far as he was concerned cooking was a form of magic.

His third Love was Her. His partner, his friend, his confidant and lover. The one without whom he couldn’t breath, without whom his dreams were mere shadows in his sleep. He had known companionship. He had thought he had known love. He had even considered himself a lucky man to have only known good and loving women. And then she had walked into his life and everything had changed. He had been asleep and merely drifting after all, not realizing that his life had been a lie and he a mere specter of all that he could be. She had awakened his passions, stirred his soul and breathed life into his day to day. She had shown tremendous patience and support during the restoration. Tonight, he wanted to thank her. In some small way, he needed desperately for her to feel and to know what she meant to him.

He knew that he was only truly alive because of her. That this project had come to be, thanks to her encouragement. He was no longer of the living dead. With her he ran free and alive. He was himself at long last and tonight his three Loves would merge. He was indeed a lucky man.

As that humbling thought passed through his mind, and he smiled with a sense of overwhelming gratitude, she walked into the room.

God she was beautiful.

Wearing a long and flowing dress in the caftan style, she practically glided in bringing with her the breath of fresh air she was. Her hair was relaxed in long and lazy waves that framed her face. Her large cat like eyes sparkling in delight at the beauty of the place around her. Pride and joy emanating from every pore. There was no other word for it … she was sensual.

She laughed and skipped and twirled for him, her long earrings, the only jewels she wore, sparkling in the light. He sucked his breath in between his teeth as his heart swelled with such emotion he was uncertain the shell of his body could contain it all. She was spectacular and he was her chosen one. He never could understand why she had selected him above all others, but didn’t dare to question too deeply in case she came to her senses and saw the average man he believed himself to be.

He held out his arms in welcome and she rushed to him planting her lips hard on his, her glow of happiness so intoxicating he felt drunk. She reached up, placing her forehead on his, and let her fingers get tangled in his hair. He had come to notice that little gesture so uniquely hers and had once asked about it. She had blushed prettily and told him that it was like a greeting and a security blanket all wrapped into one. His locks. She loved them and couldn’t resist letting them get stuck and twirled in her finger tips or brushing them off his forehead. The gesture at once childish and sensual. A conundrum … just like her.

He gave her the final tour of the restaurant. She exclaimed in delight at all the details. Even noticing that the one or two suggestions she had dared to voice had been taken into account and made manifest. She was like the fine glass of champagne he handed to her, bubbly, refined and precious. He put his arm around her shoulder wanting her close, and she leaned her head onto his chest as they walked to the table set for two.

Wanting her to taste every item on the menu and taking his queue from the Tapas concept, he had created a small feast of the senses; all of it cooked just right from the freshest ingredients he could get his hands on. She savored every morsel, regaled him with her questions, comments, delight, and obvious enjoyment; letting each bite linger like a lovers kiss before swallowing. As the evening progressed she had gone from simply touching his hand and caressing his leg to more daring and provocative gestures. He had felt her foot pressed into his crotch, her toes lingering, then leaving a trail of heat on his inner thigh in her retreat. Her hand landed on his arm, her fingers pressing, in a subconscious “come hither“ move … she was hungry for more than just food. She looked up, that mischievous twinkle in her eye, her mouth almost pouting and in a hushed voice asked what might be next.

It was time for dessert.

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

April 10, 2009 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, romance, Sensual, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , | 16 Comments