Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

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.

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

Montecristo

Storry was removed – to be published in Oyster’s and Chocolate – August 2010!!

February 9, 2010 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, Sensual, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 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

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

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

Le Manoir

THE CHALLENGE IS CLOSED!!!!

I was asked to break the tie. This was really really really difficult. First of all – I loved all entries. To add to the “problem” the one that would have gotten my vote without having to be a tie breaker was NOT one of the three (fun that! and I am NOT telling!) so I was left trying to figure out – How … HOW to choose??

But we have a WINNER! My vote goes to …

Silia!!

Why? At first I was going with Sir Anneal. After all I did ask for the darkest deepest not vanilla fantasy. But I know the man a tad and I’ve been to his site and … well… for Him this isn’t dark. In fact for him vanilla would have been!

Then WGB. I loved the way it was up-beat and fun and a fantasy of my own too! The Go-Go boots alone almost got my vote. But perhaps it was not dark enough a fantasy. After all – she’s BAD!!! Go to her site and you’ll see what I mean!

Silia. I know her a tad too – we did collaborate on a story together after all.  She’s more refrained and demure than most of you that visit me here. The fact that her and Thorn always visit together is fun – but he’s always more “out there” than she is. I found that for her – this fantasy must indeed fall in line with a darker “secret” side. And THAT was the point of the challenge. So I vote for her.

Silia … get in touch with me to organise your prize! and CONGRATS!!

****

It’s a three way tie!!! On the surface Silia was a clear winner with WGB just up the … well a close close shave indeed! BUT …

Things are not as they appear! those “comment” votes really count! not to mention a few silent votes sent to my inbox directly.

So … now what?

WGB, Sir Anneal and Silia … I can break the tie for you …. or you split the prize (The highest hits for this story is the amount – the prize is $219).

What would you prefer?

****

Readers: Go here for the details of this Challenge. Please make sure you enter a vote on the poll at the end of the post. If you comment, please state the writer to whom the comment applies.  

Basically you can cast 2 votes! 1)  with the poll 2) with a comment for your favorite entry.  You can split your votes up or double them for the same author! up to you!  The comments can break a tie!

May the best man or woman win!!

****
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.

***
Panser Bjorn “Good gods, isn’t there anyone else here who’s willing to man up?” I growled into the stillness. Only more stillness in reply.

Shaking my head, I pushed away from the wall where I’d been leaning, whiskey glass in hand. “Are you people frightened to admit you’ve urges of your own?” I raked the crowd, still silent, with a scathingly contemptuous glare. “Our lovely hostess, the Duchess Lillith” – here I nodded at Fantasia graciously, and put a hand to the brim of my gray fedora in salute – “has seen fit to share herself with us, most deeply and revealingly. I would be remiss if I failed to answer her query.”

I strode forward, making my way through the tiny groups of people who still seemed dumbstruck by the things they’d heard. Downing the last of the whiskey, I set the glass on the tray still held aloft by Fantasia’s little house pet and came to a stop in front of the fireplace, and Fantasia. She was amused, I could see it in the tiny quirk of her lips, but she was also wondering what I might have to say for myself.

I tilted my hat at a slightly more rakish angle. Turning to face the room, I adjusted my double-breasted charcoal suit and burgundy tie. “I won’t waste time with introductions,” I began. “You know me, my fastidious nature, my taste for the finer things, the delicate and refined. So it may surprise you to hear that my own darkest fantasies involve the Beast that lies at the core of every man.”

I reached out to caress the cheek of a stunning Nordic blonde nearby. “The Beast is that part of me that wants to defile something pure and virtuous,” I continued. “To take an ice maiden such as this and possess her utterly. Invade her, take her ruthlessly and roughly, use her for my own pleasure.” The blonde shivered but my gaze held her captive. “To call her what she longs to be in her own little black heart – a filthy little slut who can’t get enough.”

Abruptly I broke eye contact and turned on my heel. “And then to leave her behind without a word of thanks or regret; I’ve taken what I wanted from her, after all.”

I glanced around, grinning wolfishly. “So. Who’s next?”

****
I saw her then, my dearest protégé, peal herself exquisitely from the wall to my left. The wall almost wept at loosing the contact with her, like a lover reluctantly letting go of an embrace. Oh, I had chosen well.

****
ukroadrunner: A girl of maybe 19 years makes her way to the front. She has a fair complexion, long auburn hair, and bright green eyes almost feline in their clarity. Her lips rosy and moist. Her soft curves are hidden by the single expanse of emerald green silk tied in a halter neck with an amber clasp.

She is athletic, slim, and long shapely legs support her supple frame. Her arms are slender but proportionate, unlike many of her young years who often resemble yearlings; limbs out of keeping with their developing bodies. She is elegant and holds herself with poise.

Despite the almost religious following both sexes give the Duchess, eyes from both begin to follow her around the room. Some recall recent events that had raised an eyebrow and more besides, from some members. Some recall her boundless energy, her erotic appetite, and an ability to bring out literally the best in all she is with.

She speaks with a polished English Home Counties accent and makes eye contact with her patron.

“Ma’am, I hope you, as well the others, will not consider it improper for one so young as I to venture my own fantasy into the discussion. My youth means, given the right circumstances, many of my fantasies may be fulfilled. I look forward to doing so within this very room and involving many of you.” She looks about the room smiling before returning to her hostess.

“There is one fantasy that I often dream and which makes me startle awake, leaving me breathless. In my fantasy I find myself entwined in naked passion with another whose beauty and sensuality is divine. Your guests watch as mouths and bodies repeatedly enjoy and taste of the others in a series of climax that leave us finally spent just as the dawn breaks across the eastern sky. During our encounter some of those watching, including many listening now, are so aroused that they can not hold back and find themselves touching and playing with their own bodies or of those standing and watching close by. As we have licked and sucked each other, the experience has been enhanced by their love juices that we have savored from the other’s body. In my fantasy the other person is none other than you, ma’am.”

****
I lean over, raising her delicate chin and place my lips on hers … such a simple fantasy, not so dark for those of us with more years. She shivers and I let my hand caress her breasts. Her eyes are luminescent. “Easily done beautiful one …. Perhaps sooner rather than later… yes?” I ask the room. The faces and expressions in response is like observing a pack of hungry wolves.

****
“How does a dream become a nightmare,” Smokedawg begins, “and how do those nightmares transform into something erotic, and then snare one’s mind?”

I catch the eyes of the many extravagantly arrayed women in the room, then those of a few of the men and finally the Duchess herself, who nodded in assent. Or perhaps support. Or maybe sympathy.

Loosening the neck of my silk shirt, I run my fingers down the leather lapels of my brocaded greatcoat.

“I have known many women. Taken them. Tasted them,” I said. “Playthings all.”

“I dreamed a year ago of a former lover, who spat in my face. A mild enough dream. Then a fortnight later, another who did the same. Two days after that, it took the flavor of a nightmare, as a maiden I had spitefully seduced tied me to a tree and spat in my open mouth as she ridiculed and struck me.”

“Three months later, my dreamtime lovers were kissing me, their mouths filled with spit, flowing over their lips and over my own and down my beard. And all the time, my cock as hard as jasper.”

“Four months ago, a more profound version of the dream took me awake, like a vision. The Countess Hermione D’Artur was there, wearing only satin gloves, smoking a cherry-scented cheroot and blowing her smoke extravagantly into my face, then into my mouth, sharing with me a most exquisite and fiery communion with her kiss. And then she forced to my knees, beneath the umbrella of her smoke, and motioned others to stand over me.”

“Every single woman I had ever lain with. They took their turns spitting upon me. One after another. Over and over. Some of them expelling staggering volumes of warm, slick saliva.”

“Minute upon minute of this, perhaps an hour, until I was dripping with their juices. Spit running down my naked back, between the cheeks of my ass, over my balls and cock, over my face and lips and into my mouth. Their spit baptized me, coated me, pooled beneath me in a warm and deep puddle until I sank down into it, pressed my manhood and face into it, and humped their moist disdain for me. As their hands stroked me, and pressed me more surely into the slick heat of it. Until I came, crying out for more, begging them to do it again.”

****
Wifegonebad “Excuse me, Duchess, I’d love to share a fantasy with everyone, but I’m having a difficult time thinking of something I wouldn’t do.” I said with complete earnestness, as the eye-rolling and snorts spread around the room I was fairly new to Le Manoire, and rather quiet, so no one had me pegged yet. I squirmed and pulled at the hem of my Gucci orange and red mini-dress and could feel the perspiration roll into my white leather Go-Go boots.

“Hush everyone,” demanded the Duchess. “Please continue.” I nod my thanks to her, take a deep breath, and begin.

“My Master comes up behind me in the kitchen and puts a blindfold over my eyes, clicks a leash onto my collar, and leads me on all fours through several rooms until we reach the library. Logs are burning in the fireplace, and I can smell cigarettes, and the hear the tinkling of ice in hi-ball glasses.

He pulls me up by my collar and lightly strokes my cheek and kisses me gently. He lays me down onto a narrow table and spreads my legs. I hear murmurs around the room and zippers being undone. Suddenly, a man begins rubbing the tip of his cock against my lips forcing them open, two men put their cocks in my hands, and another is putting my legs over his shoulders as he massages my clit with his rod. I am surprised when he pushes against my rosebud and shoves his way in. I release the cock from my mouth and yell, my Master comes to me, kisses my lips, and tells me that I’m being very, very good. I relax so that when the man enters me again the pain quickly turns into pleasure as he rides me hard. I begin again to suck and stroke cocks and their moans empower me. One man comes in my mouth, the others on my tits and face, and the man pounding my ass, fills me full. I’m trembling all over. More zippers are unzipped, some men move away, or change positions, and we begin again.”

I look down at my hands shaking in my lap, afraid to look anyone in the eyes, and there is silence in the room until the Duchess breaks it, “Well, my dear, how energetic of you,” and gives me a sly, approving, glance.

****
A voice just starts talking. Almost as if to himself, in the middle of the now rather loud din of whispers as guests talk and try to decide if they too want to share. But a silence starts to hover and the words start to be heard … a rambling of sorts.

****
Shangol 1969: The duchess has her usual suspects pecking at her body and Jasmine is servicing and being serviced. I want something different tonight. There she is, a petite little Arcadian blonde all alone. She is peaking around the room, shyly. She wants to see it all. I stand her up and take off her clothes as I kiss her softly. She is stark naked now and I rub my hand in between her legs. The inside of her thigh is wet with her essence and I can’t resist. I leave her standing so she can see the activities in the room and I kneel and clean off her inner thigh softly. I move up and am invited by the perfect little pink ass to suck and lick it. She moans and spreads her legs. I turn her around and bend her over the chaise we are on. I begin to suck her pussy and start to concentrate on her clit. She is being very passionate and starts talking in a familiar tone to a man in Cajun. He speaks back to her gently and walks behinds her and slips his cock inside her. He is dangerously close to me but I am compelled to stay to make her feel good. I can smell him and his balls are hitting my face as I suck and lick her. I tickle his balls for him. Her moans are muzzled now. Something is keeping her mouth occupied. Her copulate is moaning and his balls are raised and he is all the way in her. I suck a little softer and enhance her sensation and she comes as well. He slips out of her and with it comes his load all over her pussy. I unknowingly lick it up and realize I like it? I clean her off and tongue-fuck her to suck out every drop. I look up and she has a cock releasing into her mouth and it is leaking out. I kiss her when he is done and clean up the mess. I am so hard my cock slips into her like it had a mind of its own. She feels so tight and soft. Her kisses are burning and impression into my soul. She is so sensual and free. She is a goddess. I let loose and fill her up and clean her up. I am on to something new for myself. I then go around the room and try to fuck and suck every cum filled pussy dry.

****
There is a silent applause as people appreciate the mind that has rambled, some of us finally breathing and still reeling from the speed of the delivery, attempting to fit all the images together….

I saw Thorn move with purpose towards the center of the room. His beloved Silia dropping her hand from his with regret. The two were inseparable. In fact, although they would at times watch, they never slept with anyone else. They somehow managed to be faithful amongst us all. There was a sense of the “sacred” between them that no one dared encroach upon. He cleared his voice and the pleasant deep resonant of it filled the room.

“Oh damn it this is too hard. Is it normal that I have no kinky fantasies, really? Should I see a shrink?” he smiled, ” … a day dream is the best I can do…”

****
Thorn: I crash-land on a Pacific island. I have turned wild relying on what the jungle and the sea provided me with to survive. Nature sculpted my naked body to perfection. Being free all day and my toy at night my cock had grown in length and girth. I have become a master of the fine art of self pleasing. I came at will or delayed my orgasm indefinitely. I could hold an erection for hours and ejaculate several times. My own record, engraved on the trunk of a coconut tree, was 17 times from sunset to sunrise.

When I saw the small drifting boat my cock reacted first. I made “him” a promise. He can fuck whoever was onboard as long as they were alive. I swam the mile distance and climbed on board to find two women on the verge of dehydration.

I brought the battered craft to the beach. I carried the taller black woman first and laid her on the sand. Feeling her in my arms brought my penis to full erection but I ordered him to quiet down. He obeyed, knowing well that I never break a promise. Then I tossed the blonde over my shoulder and placed her alongside. I have developed an acute sense of smell and the scent of their pussies assaulted me like an uncontrollable avalanche.

I took care of them for 2 consecutive nights and days. For the first time on this island I didn’t jerk off for over 48 hours. My balls were fuller than a pair of coconuts. I could fuck a whole tribe of women.

The two lesbians stared at my cock and their pussies glistened with moistness whenever I was near. On the third night the moon was full. I hunted a wild goat and asked them to eat, “You need all your strength tonight”, I said, “I’m going to fuck you till morning”.

For desert I ate the black beauty’s pussy while I fucked the blonde for an hour. She passed out after her sixth orgasm and my fourth. I put her to rest and penetrated the perfect black ass, all ten inches slowly disappearing inside. I filled her mouth, ass and pussy with cum endlessly. I repeated my awe inspiring act with the blonde as necessary.

While they rested with the crack of dawn, I engraved a new entry. Thirty fucking times.

****
He returned to Silia’s side. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear… once again the two were in their bubble.

I smile a moment as I recall the private conversation with my most elusive guest. The “Pokeroo” among us. The one that I know exists but no one else has met. People want to, he is especially sought after by all the “Barbie dolls” in the house … LeviStore … reclusive is an understatement.

I had talked to him about what I had planned and he’d sent me his response. Oh yes, sweetly delivered by the quivering lips of a fine young lad that reminded me a great deal of a young “Malboro Man”. He had recited his message perfectly … with a slight tremble in his voice from time to time. I shared it with my guests – asking the young man to step out and recite anew.

****
I think about my invite to The Salon all day.. and it totally consumes
me with lust to know that this wanton wayward hostess has invited me..
But on the other hand im irritated.. Being of a modern day Greek
family im fully aware of the complexity of the way intelligent people
get together to chat about mindless things.. and I certainly do not
have the time for that..
But the hostess intrigues me.. And I put a master plan together..
My plan is simple.. I arrive at the The Salon over an hour early..
Its all quiet..
I step out of my Beemer and lean on the bonnet.. I have no intention
of walkin up the steps of the venue.. I light up a Camel plain.. And
wait..
Im dressed in a simple striped Italian shirt and Levi jeans.. three of
the buttons of the fly are undone..
It starts getting dark.. the hostess walks seductively down the steps
towards my car.. Its dark enough to be discreet..
I dont even bother standing up.. Im hard.. and it can be seen through
the Levi jeans..
She arrives.. we make eye contact.. I reach out and take her sensual
hand.. and guide it to my un buttoned jeans.. she continues.. and
follows through.. my cock firmly in her hand.. she proceeds to stroke,
then goes down to suck it..
My game plan is sound, I dont warn her that im gettin close.. My
energy is internal.. and I quietly erupt into her mouth as she
swallows urgently in order to keep her lovely evening dress clean..
I kiss her warmly.. only once.. Then leave in my Beemer without sayin a word..
Each word she utters on this mystical evening will be uttered with the
essence of my being..
And the guests at The Salon would not even have met me..

****
The room laughed, some shook their head … I knew the rumor – that he was a figment of my imagination. Ah well … I had done my part.

****

Silia has been sitting quietly all evening beside Thorn, observing all the rest but saying nothing. She is dressed demurely in an ankle length black velvet dress. It quietly shows every curve and the white skin of her bosom and shoulders. Her dark hair is pulled back and to one side, tumbling down around her neck and over one shoulder. Finally, during a lull in the conversation, she rises from her seat but remains with Thorn. She decides to speak taking a few by surprise.

“I’ve never thought of myself as an exhibitionist. I mean, I have never bared my body in public – except for maybe a skinny dip in a less than secluded location. But I would hardly call that exhibitionism. Maybe we all have it in us – just a little. But in everyday life, I’m quite the opposite. In face, I won’t undress in my own bedroom unless the curtains are drawn tightly. Perhaps that is why this fantasy holds such “appeal” to me but also, and ultimately, seems so perverse.

It’s a showcase, an exhibit, but instead of art or antiquities on display, its naked bodies of women and men. This is not a sex show. This is more…educational…if you will. I am one of the “objets” laid out on my back on a raised platform. My erect nipples point to the ceiling and my legs spread apart to reveal all. There are no barriers between the displays and the observers. The observers are welcome, even encouraged to touch, squeeze, insert. The only rule for these observers are that they cannot perform sexual acts with the displays. The rule for the displays is more stringent. They cannot move no matter how they are touched, and particularly if they orgasm. They must remain motionless and quiet like fleshy statues. I end up with many hands over and in all parts of me and fight with everything in me to stay still.”

****

Silia quietly resumed sitting. She smiled somewhat shyly at Thorn as he took her face in his hand and they exchanged knowing glances.

I heard the large door open and I shivered and smiled at the same time. “Ah, Sir Anneal, you have come!” I clapped in delight as I took a few steps to welcome him.

****

Sir Anneal: I notice that this place has a unique feel to it as W/we enter the waiting area. Clean and precise, everything in its place and a place for everything. Perfect to show off, and present My gift for this evening’s gathering, and it’s hostess.

I nod to acknowledge you dear, and I smile as I’ve shared with you briefly what had been done over the last Five months to prepare My present for the gathering. O/our late arrival has it’s purpose. I’m wearing a simple Grey pinstripe suit and tie…the Three piece variety. Following Me is the utensil. Long flowing Silver silk robe…hooded with sleeves long to cover hands and her face concealed. she makes no sound. Acknowledges no one. she is leashed and follows Me by what you and the other early guests can only assume is a silver collar and leash under the robe as I lead her in.

I walk her over to the ring I asked you to have installed in the far wall, and with a click the utensil is locked facing it by her neck

“darling… so good to see you, and thank you for the invitation to the salon” It has taken many months of preparation to get her here for your guests tonight. I would ask that you inform everyone that she is still healing in some areas and attachment points. Please have them be mind full of this. Other than that request…Utensil is available for any use your guests may desire. I can tell you that she is willing, and totally open to the idea. she requested the unique modifications to her body, and will be this way for the remainder of her life. Let Me prepare her now for your party…

I walk over to the Silver cape….and in One swift move pull away the covering.

A collected gasp from the guests in the room as modifications are exposed. Women cover their mouths, and Men raise eyebrows at the vision in front of them. Now revealed for every one’s use is a naked woman…with a collar not separate from her neck, but surgically attached to her collar bones. Stainless steel rings seem to grow out from each wrist….and from each ankle bone. A mouth held shut with a stainless padlock and ring set…and upon further examination are also seen to actually protrude out from under the skin.

As I remove her mouth locks she instinctively knows to put her wrists behind her back, and move her feet close together. Now with stainless locked in place I turn to you..

You see darling…with today’s medical advancements in artificial joints and such, the attachment of the stainless steel to bone is quite easy to do, but for the bone to take, and the skin to heal around it permanently THAT is time consuming. One healed …quite effective though

Please…enjoy her

And as Sir Anneal leaves the party…

I toss you the keys……

October 11, 2009 Posted by | erotica | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 55 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

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

Woven threads of our Sunday

A shared moment and thought – un-edited – not a story. A glimpse into the life of ….

Sunrise on Sunday morning…

Some love it for the guarantee of brunch, the paper and coffee in bed, for time with friends and family, or for the slow and easy pace the world seems to take on that second weekend day.

Some see it as the end of the week, I prefer it as the first day of mine. For me it is the promise of hours of slow, sweet fucking, and the launching of my soul to depart and float forward and mingle with his, that makes Sunday my “it” day.

You’ll find the phone off the hook, the “do not disturb” sign on the door and us laying entwined, sweat glistening off our bodies and my hand reaching down for his still hard cock.

Slowly and methodically I will stroke him, pressure building towards the head. Leaning over I will whisper secrets in his ear. Of those, only he is allowed to sit in judgment. He will smile, moan, and respond to every inch of me and me to every centimeter of him.

He and I will come and come again all day. As we loose track of time between the sheets, down the hall, on the kitchen counter and back again. We will eat with, on and from each other. Laugh, giggle, sigh, bathe and speak. The world can go to hell in a hand basket, we are nesting in our own heavenly bubble.

We pray at each others altars, connect and rejoice. A week of “I don’t have time” and “yeah hold on” has finished. We start anew – connect; find each other again, charge our emotional batteries. Sure a quickie will occur on other days, and yes we will make love certainly … but the slow, all day in bed fucking, that is our lazy us time makes Sunday our relationship nuclear power plant.

We will re-etch our scents, the lines of our bodies, sounds, smells and dreams onto our hearts and minds. Trade new secrets and old, share fresh fears and battle ancient demons. All the while our hands will wonder, our nakedness will unite us and our backs will arch as we come, bathing us in glistening nectar.

In the end I will feel my soul come back to me as we lie together in the moonlight wrapped in a blanket of the woven threads of our Sunday.

© 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.

September 12, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 39 Comments