Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

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

Prologue – Cottage Country

This story has been brought to you by ukroadrunner and myself.   The Prologue was his creation, and the two main characters are his (you will note – I never use names).  I then took it from there with Part I of Cottage Country. The real challenge occurred in Part II where the true collaboration occurred.

There were two rules of engagement:

1) Emotions drive the plot not the sex (i.e. it‘s erotica not porn).

2) Each section has to stand on it’s own (readers often follow their own sequence).

Now …enjoy! We did!


Sue sauntered up from Knightsbridge tube station into the daylight and away from the gloom and dank of the underground. Her cell-phone purred, now that it could pick up a signal, and she reached into her shoulder bag to lift it out as she hit pavement level. The noise of the congestion caught her by surprise – double decker buses and London taxis crawled in a sea of red and black in the early evening rush hour as the traffic made its way around Hyde Park Corner. She paused to flip open her phone, read the message with her back to the noise and then slammed the lid down – clearly disappointed.

She turned on her heels to walk towards the gates and into the park, shaking her head and wondering what was so important that her best-friend could not get away from her hedge fund employer to meet her for tea and then maybe something to eat later. They hadn’t seen each other in over 18 months and it was always good to meet up. She had been looking forward to seeing the latest photos of her friends regular stream of babies and to share a laugh with her over stories of the men she, herself, had dated since they had last conversed face to face.

The gates to the park were set in an impressive Portland stone archway that was imposing and spoke of the affluence of London life going back two centuries. She walked through, over the pedestrian crossing and down the hill along the path towards the floral gardens. The lane was used by cyclists on their way home, joggers, skaters and tourists taking in the sights. A couple of horses were being exercised on the trotting corridor by guardsmen who use the park as their training ground. The scene was typical and yet quite extraordinary.

It had been a predictable London summer day – warm, with almost oppressive humidity, and white clouds bubbling and building up as the afternoon went on, already obscuring the sunshine. The threat of thunder hung heavily as the cloud cover began to turn grey. She felt the humidity crawl at her skin as a thin veil of perspiration broke out over her body and small beads began to form on the soft fine hair above her upper lip. She tugged at the her top to allow a warm gush of air to pass up her back.

Walking slowly along the path she watched the others – all sizes and shapes, some clad in tight lycra, others in summer dresses and even the trademark London chalk striped wool suit. She enjoyed people watching and wondered whether they saw her and what they noticed in her. She thought she was, by any standards, unremarkable. Under-average height, flat chested and wearing her mousy colored hair in a pony-tail. Her face was freckled from too much time in the sun. Her body, although saved from the torture of child-bearing, could be improved by some discipline in the gym – which she paid handsomely for but rarely benefited from.

Above a fashionable, slightly frayed denim skirt, she wore an olive top with thin straps, a little adventurous to the front and a racing back. At the end of her slim, bare legs, a pair of Paul Smith thong sandals encased her freshly pedicured feet. The sandals were her frivolous, spur of the moment purchase, earlier that day and she felt very proud of them. A pair of high-street store sun-glasses sat perched on her head.
She let out a big sigh as she walked into the formal, floral garden. The colors, even now in the evening light were bright and lively, with shades of red, orange, blue and violet in every texture and size imaginable. Foxglove, campanula, delphinium and monkshood – the lawns manicured, straight and mature – it was breathtaking. Her bag brushed a lavender plant and its sweet scent followed her for a moment. Enjoying the peace and quiet, she decided to stop for some tea at the cafe that overlooked the Serpentine before heading for a restaurant near her hotel.

The cafe was winding down and staff were wiping tables and clearing up but were happy to serve her. She took her tray to an outdoor table. The sun had re-appeared beneath the cloud level and cast its fading light over the lake. Ducks and swans dawdled and nearby a toddler stood near the edge throwing bits of scone into the water – the father sat edgily on his bench not wanting to over protect the child but still concerned if the furrows on his wide forehead was anything to go by. The little girl in a pretty denim pinafore dress and white sandals was quite blond and wore her hair in platted pig tails with matching ribbons.

She smiled at the scene and nodded to the man silently acknowledging the risks and her participation in any rescue if it were needed. The man raised an eyebrow back and nodded too – a broad grin on his face. He was, she thought as she sipped her tea, quite attractive. His eyes warm and kind. She carried on, savoring her drink, as the child now bored of the ducks turned its attention on her. She put down her cup and lent forward in her seat – making an over the top smile and holding out her hand to the crushed scone being offered to her.

“Why thank you so much.” she said, “Yum, yum.” and turned to the man who was now off his seat and walking towards them.

“Oh I am sorry!” he exclaimed as he got nearer, “Gemma is such a friendly person and likes everyone to be part of the fun.” He stooped down and swept Gemma up in his arms, placing her on his hip quite expertly.

“Me feed ducks.” chirped Gemma

They laughed and Sue made some comment about how no apology was needed. The man went on to say how beautiful the light was this time of the evening. She nodded in agreement, holding out her hand to Gemma’s outstretched tiny fingers. The scone seemed to have disappeared but then she saw it smeared on the gentleman’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but grin,

“Hmmm – you are gorgeous but I bet you are also a little pickle!”
“Well thank you – but I am more used to just being called handsome.” he replied laughing.
“Handsome possibly …but not with extra scone – it doesn’t do it for me!” she flirted and pointed to where the damage had been done.

He looked where she was pointing, his hand quickly flicking off the crumbs onto the floor. She noticed his hands, like his face, were tanned and that his fingernails were well looked after.

“Ah, any better?” he responded, a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.
“Could be!” she said, her own grin spreading across her face, “But I was really referring to this gorgeous young lady.”

“Yes well, she seems to attract attention wherever she goes does this one.” And with that he tickled Gemma who shrieked and demanded more.

They all laughed and then there was a pause.
“I am David.” he said suddenly.
“Oh … hi David … my name is Sue, Sue Davis.” and without thinking she stuck out her hand for a hand shake.

Slightly bemused he politely took her hand in his for a moment, “Nice to meet you Sue.” he said. Gemma moved to push herself off David’s hip and he swung her round first, to more laughter, before setting her down,

“Stay away from the water now Gemma, there is a good girl.”

Gemma wobbled off towards a flower bush and they watched her silently for a moment.

“You visiting London?” he asked quietly.

“Just a day or two, not sure now – my plans kind of fell through this afternoon so not really quite sure what I might do.” she said looking at him. He was tall, solid, probably played rugby or something and seemed to keep himself in shape. His fair hair was thinning and was kept short and neat. He was dressed in a grey suit, a plain light blue shirt, a couple of buttons undone at the top with a few wispy chest hairs poking through, and black, expensive looking shoes. She noticed a tie, stuffed carelessly in his trouser pocket, was hanging out an inch or two. His features were quite attractive. She had never really had the benefit of attention from men like him before – men like him normally went for the tall, big breasted, blonde girls who oozed confidence and wit that she didn’t recognize as her qualities.

“Well maybe now you have a new friend.” David said nodding at Gemma, “You might want to hang about a bit longer. You’ve made an impression there.”

“That is very sweet of you. Maybe I will! Nice to meet new people. I don’t often have the courage to do that, but children can be so easy to talk to – – – Have all this time and don’t know really what to do with it. Haven’t made plans… well I did but they are falling through one at a time and leaving me really uncertain with what to do next. I don’t like that makes me edgy …. really.” She was conscious she was now babbling to cover her nervousness at talking to an attractive man and she stopped abruptly.
“So you are a teacher then?”
“Yes – 10 years. On summer holiday now.”
“Ah – school teachers and summer holidays. Probably shouldn’t go there should I?” he winked.
She giggled, “Probably not if you want to stay friends!”
“My wife was a school teacher – primary, the really young ones – and I soon stopped those types of gags.”

“Me too! – love them at that age – so much to learn and so little time before they mature into little thugs many of them. What does she do now, you said she “was” a school teacher?”
“Actually, Kirsten died having Gemma.” he said quietly, “But you were not to know that. It’s been tough but we are making progress Gemma and I.”
“Oh I am so sorry for you.” She said feeling quite unsettled at having put her foot in it.
“Really … please, you don’t have to be, you weren’t to know. I like talking about Kirsten, often I bore people stupid, but you are the first woman I have talked to on my own since I lost her. And actually it’s quite nice.”

“Oh.” was about as much as she could say, “I mean I think that’s a compliment – isn’t it?”

“I should think so! And thank you for making this so easy. Gemma … come away please.” Gemma was edging towards the lake side again.

The tea in Sue’s cup was cold but she didn’t care. “What you doing now, this evening?” she asked.
“Emm, we just got here – a minute ahead of you. Normally we walk round the lake, over the bridge and then down into Knightsbridge for something to eat. I have a favorite restaurant that is child friendly and the waitresses adore her.”
“Would you mind if I walked with you – I mean just to the bridge? It is nice to have company if I am honest.”

“…. why not – Gemma would be glad of the company and actually so would I.” She stood up and found that she barely reached his shoulders he was so tall. She smiled at him and turned to look at Gemma who was walking back towards them.

“Come on then Pickle, shall we go find some more ducks and maybe a squirrel?” she said and squatted down beside the toddler to take the squashed flower offered to her. They wandered round the front of the cafe, and turned left to walk along the lake shore. It was quieter here than on the path, and they spread out across the path. Him walking slowly with the pushchair and she beside him. Gemma walked slightly in front stopping now and again to point or pick something off the floor. He began to talk about himself to her delight and she learnt he worked in finance, lived in Kensington and was indeed a rugby player. They laughed at a couple of silly stories about his team mates.

Far too quickly they arrived at the bridge which crossed the Serpentine and allowed the traffic to cross through the park. She needed to turn right up towards Lancaster Gate. They stopped at the corner. Gemma climbed up into her pushchair.

“I’ve really enjoyed meeting you Sue.” he said.
“Me likewise.” she replied.
“I’d like to see you again – we’d like to see you again.” he corrected himself, “Wouldn’t we, Gemma?”

The little girl was leaning back, sucking her thumb, the fingers of her other hand playing with a bit of hair that had fallen out of her pig-tails. She nodded.
“Well so would I if you would.”
“Emm – if I give you my mobile number – maybe you could call me later or text me and we could fix something, maybe tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
He wrote his phone number on the back of a till receipt from his supermarket that was in his wallet. She tore a bit off and wrote her number on it and handed it to him. “Just in case I lose yours or something!” There was a pause and then he leaned a bit awkwardly and went to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled, laid a hand gently on his shoulder and returned the kiss. “Thank you both for such a lovely time – see you soon Gemma – and you David?”
“Bye for now – thanks.” he said.
She turned and began to walk away and looking her shoulder, she noticed that David had turned the push chair so that Gemma could wave. Sue waved back and then set off up the hill.

A moment or two later her mobile purred. She opened the lid and smiled as she read the message Thanks. Hear from you soon. David x
“What a lovely man.” she thought, “First one in ages that didn’t want to get into my knickers before even knowing my name. Shame he didn’t know I was going commando today.”

© 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.

July 13, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, romance, temptation | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Welcome Home

I stood there at the arrivals gate, barely able to contain myself. Every fiber of my being ready to burst forth and splatter you with love the instant you walked though those horrid gates. You had texted me moments ago “@ customs”. Close, so close I could taste it. Taste your lips on mine, the comfort of your arms around me at long last. Oh my love it had been too long, far too long.

bzz bzz

I looked at my blackberry “some sort of delay – sorry love – Patience – just a little longer”. I died a small death. NO! no …no…no…. I cradled the little black electronic device to my chest, hugging it. Come on … come on!

You had gone on this adventure trek in the desert to physically push yourself to the limits. I had wished to go with you but had been unable to convince my boss to let me have the time off. I was needed at the office. Exploding in anger, I had said a few things that could have been career limiting.

With a last hug you warned me that you’d have no cell service out there, in the middle of nowhere. Brightly and jokingly I responded that I’d survive … but would you? I had not realized then, how crushing the silence would be. Day after day I stared at the little black screen, willing it to buzz and do it’s little dance. Waiting for a sign that you were thinking of me, loving me even from miles away. I felt you in my heart, thought of you obsessively and looked at the picture of us on my screensaver remembering out goodbye and your warning. You had known how affected I would be. The one left behind.

How I had missed you. The ache and longing so profound I could only compare it to mourning a loss. The void that had been created with your departure was a warning however, that I had become far to dependent on you. At first I felt abandoned. Lashing out like a petulant child. Angry at your having left without me. Talking to friends with long “What if’s” and “it’s not fair’s”. Then I settled. Pouting. Miserable. Hurt. A few days later I snapped out of it. It’s not who I am to dwell and engage in self pity marathons. I’m not this person! Who the hell is this? I reclaimed my independence, found satisfaction in knowing you loved me and had come into my life. I kept busy, not to flee loneliness, but because it’s in my nature. I saw neglected friends, attended some events and relaxed in the quiet meditation of solitude.

I was walking to the gym, as per usual for that time of day, when the no longer so familiar bzz bzz resonated in my pocket. My heart soared! The imposed cone of silence had been lifted! Frantically I fumbled with the keyboard, typing in my password, trying to get to the sweet words, my eyes and heart thirsty as if they had been the ones in the desert sands. I sank to my feet giddy with tears of relief. “You would have loved it. Love you. MISS YOU. Can’t wait to see you. Home soon.” I responded frenetically, afraid of renewed silence. But the fear was pointless as the flow of texts resumed, your love flowing towards me in a torrent of funny, sexy and playful messages.

Now, here I was quivering with anticipation. Biting my lower lip, standing on my toes to look over the people in front of me. Not wanting to miss the split second you came into view.

And you did.

You braced yourself as you saw me hurdling towards you, dropping your bags and bending you knees, arms open wide. A huge smile on your face and the fatigue of the trip gone in a flash. We collided. My legs wrapped around your waist, my arms around your neck a shower of kisses made you dizzy. You turned us around and around as our lips finally met. The world melted away, there was only you and me and utter silence broken only by the rhythm of our hearts beating. You stumbled a little finding a wall to brace me up against. Our kiss continued, long, intense, deep and soulful. A thousand “hello’s”, a million “I missed you’s” and an endless series of “I’m so happy to be with you’s” were exchanged.

You let me slide down, still kissing me, not wanting to break our renewed connection. Your hands cupped my face holding me there a moment, frozen, making me feel so very precious. You pulled me in close, an arm wrapped around my back and waist, the other around my shoulders. A protective cocoon. My digits played with the bottom of your t-shirt searching for skin. Not finding it I pulled your top out of your shorts, at last my palms glided along your lats, your abs, your lower back. You sucked your breath in, your body tensing at the delight of my cool fingertips making their way up like the child’s song “itsy bitsy spider”. You pulled away reluctantly, feeling more than a twitch in your shorts… we stared at each other almost not believing.

“harrumph …. Get a fucking room you two!”

We burst out laughing at the grumpy soul that had spewed those words like venom. But we had the antidote, love coursing in our veins.

I grabbed your smaller backpack and you followed me to the car. The whole way home, a happy silence between us. I did want to hear all about your trip but right then I just required the stillness – to soak up the pleasure of you, sitting there, next to me. You seemed to know this intuitively. Your hand on my knee, playing, caressing, stroking. My body responded, I sighed, as your hand traveled a little higher. My inner thigh hyper sensitive to your gentle back and forth. We had often fooled around in the car, but it wasn’t a sexual energy that was between us this time.

I parked. We made it to the elevator. We kissed so long that we missed it and had to wait for it to come back down again. We didn’t mind as we indulged in the pure ecstasy of each others presence. Down the hall we walked, I chattered happily now and you just smiled as you watched me act like a hunting dog, going up ahead, turning around, coming back and leading the way again.

The key turned in the door. We walked in. The bags dropped. Home.

That’s when the world outside was no longer a witness. You grabbed me, pulled me in so close I could barely breath. “ I missed you” you whispered rapidly breathless. I knew you wanted a shower but my hands were already getting rid of your clothing with a different plan in mind. Every inch of me ached with the need for us to unite again in the most intimate way possible. Your kiss was long and sensual. Love emanating from you like a force field, inviting me – and only me – in.

We dropped to the floor, headless of the mess we were leaving behind us, or caring that only a few feet away a comfortable bed beckoned. Our eyes could not leave one another, our hands touching, sometimes soft and tender at other moments frenzied. Naked flesh cried out elated at the touch of skin against skin, arms hugged, legs squeezed, mouths traveled, tongues licking and chests heaving with pleasure and in the blink of an eye there you were poised, looking down at me, my legs wide in welcome, your cock entering me slowly, pushing the walls apart softly as you slid inside. We gasped as our bodies at last united. A tear rolled down our cheeks in unison. Slowly we made love.

Hips thrusting, cunt clasping and not letting go, cock buried and never wanting to leave, hairs on our arms reaching out to the heavens, moans and cries of pleasure resonating and bounding against the walls… it did not take long for our bodies to explode in united, thrilling and total abandon to one another. The joy of our reunion manifested in an orgasm that flowed with, to and from each other. Too soon, it was over.

“Welcome home” I sighed as you lay on my chest, my fingers curling in your hair my thighs sticky from our passion. With your arms wrapped around me you replied, panting softly “never apart this long … again… ever“. Your lips found mine and you kissed me deeply, less hurried, starting the play again. I smiled . All was well with the world again. My man was home.

© 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.

July 6, 2009 Posted by | Beauty, erotica, romance, Sensual | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part III

She walked up to the cross; he was now yanking weakly at his restraints. Still dazed but coming around. She undid the leather straps and he crumbled to the floor unable to hold himself up. He sat there dazed, his back resting against one of the metal legs. He was done trying to fight any of this. “You alright” she asked kindly. He looked up and realizing it was a total stranger tried to get up but she firmly pushed him down. “Rest and enjoy the show”. Puzzled he complied. Part of him was furious, a palpable anger below the surface. Seeing that look in his eye, I had a moment of fear. Had I gone too far? But he had never said the code word. I relaxed. Too late now.

“You’re crazy, you know?” My friend commented as she walked toward me on the couch. I just grinned and nodded. “You are going to get yourself raped or killed one of these days.” I scowled at her. The words “don’t say that” escaped before I could think of something wittier to say. She was right. This was a very dangerous game indeed. After all, I knew absolutely nothing about the man I had brought “home” to play with. I was suddenly grateful for her presence.

She settled next to me, looking at the box of toys open before us. I watched her hand glide over some of her favorites. We had been here before. She pulled out a double-sided dildo and a wicked smile crossed her face as she looked at me. I was so hot and wet that the very thought of it sliding into me sent a ripple of pleasure across my entire body. Not far away I heard an appreciative moan as our guest settled down, grabbing a throw blanket and made himself comfortable. He seemed unaffected by his experience. I could almost hear him thinking, “The guys will never believe me!”. I couldn’t help wonder what parts he would omit in the retelling.

My friend’s hand had cupped a breast out of my corset. Her fingers playing with the nipple, rolling it, pinching it. Her lips in my neck, her saliva leaving a trail of cold moisture wherever it went. My hand reached down and found the fountain of wet slickness between my thighs. “You want me to take care of that?” she asked quietly in my ear. I nodded. As much as I love a man, a woman’s touch can far outdo the most skilled of them. Her fingers brushed my own aside and I felt her touch manipulate its mark. Her mouth on mine, I hissed with pleasure.

It didn’t take long for her to bring me to the very edge. With the skill of a well-practiced lover, she slid the large dildo, slowly, agonizingly so, into my gaping cunt. I was so overcome with pleasure I slid off the couch onto the floor the toy still buried inside of me. My friend giggled in a low sexy tone and came down to meet me. This time, she lay facing me, our legs crossing each others, Indian style. She impaled herself on the other end of the battery-operated rod. Facing one another, filled by the same “cock” we rocked back and forth. I was leaning against the coffee table and she against the couch. One hand on our clits the other holding us up, we lashed out in a feverish frenzy, splashing together, stabbing into each other, biting our own lips. Surprisingly, she came first. She lurched forward, as her body washed away in uncontrolled orgasm, her hips pinning me in place.

Frustrated that I had been denied release, I closed my eyes to let my fingers finish. But I felt a set of strong hands lift me off the floor. He was back. He put me on the couch, my ass towards him, my chest and arms folded comfortably on the backrest. I bent my left leg, placing the foot on the seat giving him the most spectacular view. He kissed his way down my back, but with no added foreplay, knowing I was ready to burst, he slid inside. The heat of his cock and the smell of the condom sent me nearly off the edge. I grabbed back and held his balls, letting them roll in my hand like delicate plums. My friend joined in and, placing a dollop of lube on my asshole handed him the dildo and walked away. “Revenge is sweet my friend” she laughed as she left us to it.

He grabbed my long hair and shoved the dildo into my mouth. “Suck it,” he commanded. I loved it. The roll reversal was inebriating. I sucked it as he fucked me. “Shit that’s sexy,” he moaned. Pulling the vibrator out of my mouth, he then placed the tip against the ring of my anus and pressed. I relaxed welcoming the intruder. The most glorious feeling rewarded me. I could feel his member rub against the dildo now firmly up my ass, the thin membrane separating the two growing hotter with every thrust. I reached down again letting my fingers play with my clit, almost loosing traction as the excessive moisture leaked out of me like tears of joy.

He fiercely pulled my hips, and his legs trembled as semen coursed upward into the lengthy rod and burned its way to burst from the end to explode like fireworks. Knowing he was coming for the third time was such a turn on that I finally felt it. I screeched and swung my head wildly with painful glee as my body went into a trembling orgasm. My hands grasped at thin air, as my tongue furiously lashed across my lips. I bolted and jerked against both dildo and meaty shaft. I fell across the couch, exhausted, spent, satisfied.

Playing with fire had paid off.

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

May 25, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up | , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part II

I motioned to the couch, where he could lounge for a moment and left the room to strip down. I love the power of lingerie, perhaps a vestige of playing dress up as a child. I had chosen well for my outing; not that I had planned this, but what I wore was perfect. I removed my “outer wear” to reveal the visual feast below. I grabbed one last item, put it on, and walked back into the living room and my guest.I saw his eyes go wide with a mingle of appreciation and a little apprehension. He took it all in. The tight black bustier with fuchsia trim that made my breasts look like they hovered and accentuated my hip to waist ratio. The way the detailing framed my curves making everything seem higher, rounder. My legs long and lean in fuchsia leathered heals …. But where his eyes froze; was at the strap-on I had slipped over the fuchsia mesh panties with the word “beware” stitched across my ass.

“What you going to do with that?” he laughed nervously. I arched an eyebrow high … wasn’t it obvious? I walked over, confidant but not threatening. “Exactly what you want me to do…”

I straddled him – the synthetic cock between us like a third wheel. He kissed me as he continued to chuckle, still a little nervous. His finger slid inside me, I was so wet and so ready … but I wanted to make this grown man grovel and beg for mercy. I wasn’t yet sure, how I was going to make it all happen but I knew what was going to transpire.

He let his finger covered in my juices glide along my tongue, the taste of my own secretions always a turn on. His lips were on mine again … hungry with desire as his own member came back to life, rising like Lazarus. I pinned him down with my weight – he let me. He was far stronger than I was and could have easily overcome me – he chose not to. My hands caressed his body, my teeth bit into his flesh. I let my canines and fingers create red welts along his jugular and left battle scars everywhere they went. I kissed him and bit his lower lip … hard. He hissed and kissed back urgently. His breathing was fast, his body shivering with every unyielding or feather light touch.

“Get up” I order. In a daze and trance, he obeyed. I walked him over to the metal cross and before he could think too long about the consequences; I snapped him in, the leather straps holding him in place. There he was – facing the wall – his ass mine …quite literally. I leaned in and whispered, “The code word is “Panther” do you understand?” He nodded suddenly trembling. I soothingly rubbed his body. I reached for some oil and used it to massage his shoulders. He sighed and relaxed. I switched to lube and placed some liberally around the ring of his ass and all over the fake shaft still attached to my pelvic bone.

I let my fingers caress the skin on his back … barely touching. I could see goose bumps spring up and involuntary shivers take over. I leaned down and grabbed his member – it was almost painful as I pulled it back unnaturally. Holding it tight in one hand, I played with his balls and teased the tip. I let the other hand wander down and started massaging his puckered anus once more. His breath caught and he could feel his resolve dissipate. He tensed and I knew if I didn’t stop or break the rhythm he would come. I swiftly stood up, and firmly pressed my body against his. He let out a yelp as the head of his penis, now released, sprung back to the front and hit the cold metal of the x in the cross. My own spear pushed against his ass, the tip pressing against the ring. He tensed, and I let my fingers dig into his hair and pulled his head backwards. The gesture shocked him as he struggled to breathe, his head pulled so unnaturally. It was enough … I pressed the head of the dildo in, felt resistance …. Waited … waited … I leaned in and bit his shoulder blade hard. He reacted again with a muffled scream and I slid in all the way.

“NO!!!” …. he shook and trembled. I waited for the code word … but it never came. I started to fuck him. This strong heterosexual male was at my mercy and for all his denial and litany of No’s … he was enjoying it. His body betrayed him. He yanked on the restraints and whimpered as I invaded his body in a way it had never been before. I reached for a whip, and never breaking my rhythm, let the leather leave mark after mark on his back. Oh the power. To see such strength reduced to this. To watch him give up control. A cavernous, angry and powerful moan came from deep within him. It was animalistic in everyway – if he had not been tied up, I would have feared the sound. I never broke tempo as the dildo and whip took turns beating him down ….Beating his orgasm up. It was coming and he feared it – fought it.

The fierceness of the scream that ripped through him was proof that every single inhibition, wall and self-image he had of himself had been trampled. He was at the mercy of his bodies desires. He could not control it, could not stop it …. It owned him. He was no longer master of his domain, the orgasm was and I was the pilot. His head thrashed back, I dropped the whip, plunging in hard one last time and placed one hand on his mouth and the other pinched his nose. He could not breathe. His body panicked as the supply of air died. His chest pulling for oxygen that never came. I slowly resumed the pelvic thrusts, gentle now, driving the dildo inside him again and at last, he came. He shot his load and at that moment, I released him. He took a deep shuddering breath and roared with pleasure at the same time.

He hung limp from his straps. Too weak and spent to stand on his own. I pulled out. Sat on the couch, flushed and sexually unsatisfied; disinfected the dildo and put a few things away. Just then, my friend walked in with a smile on her face….. I looked up and grinned back at her. “How long you been listening at the door?” …. She was flushed and her hand was twitching with a need to release sexual energy. “Long enough” she purred.

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

May 18, 2009 Posted by | anal, erotica, Threesome, Tied Up, Voyeur | , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Playing with Fire – Part I

Photography by Danniel Oickle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The trap was set.

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

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