My first tentative steps back into fiction after quite a break… Yes, I’ve done better, that’s true, but I hope it tickles you nevertheless!

“I didn’t fall in love with you,” his fingers pushed her hair aside to trace the bare skin of her shoulder.

Twisting her head to look back at him, “Well, fuck you too!” she smirked.

His fingers found her nipple and tweaked it hard, “I am not finished…”

Stifling a giggle, she waited.

He was a pedant. She couldn’t truthfully say it was one the things she loved about him; more like one those things that came as part of the package, that she had decided to consider an endearing quirk. After all, she was far from perfect.

He tickled the skin of her neck with butterfly kisses as he spoke, “Falling implies something sudden, something that happened all at once. That’s not how it was.”

She pressed her body back against his, pushing her ass against him, wanting as much skin contact as possible. She smiled, feeling him stiffen against her.

“It was slow, gradual. I didn’t fall. I…” he searched for the right word, “Slipped? I slipped into love with you. I had no idea it was happening. Just every day you mattered more, I thought about you more, I wanted to see you, to talk to you. Then one day I realized. I was crazy about you.”

His mouth covered her ear, sucking on her soft lobe, breathing in hot air, causing goose bumps along her spine.

Her cunt throbbed for him. She squeezed her thighs together, relishing the ache.

His hand covered her jaw, turning her head towards him. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, opening her mouth to meet his tongue, her arms around his neck as the kiss became deeper, hungrier.

Pushing her onto her back, he pressed his weight down on her. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close. She was more than ready for him.

Their eyes locked, he moaned as her tight muscles gripped his length; he began slowly, rhythmically, moving inside her, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back deep within, his shaft stroking her clit. He bent his neck to suck on her nipple as he rocked; biting it, nibbling it, rolling it over his tongue, knowing she loved the pleasure/pain of it.

Arching her back, she ground against him, using her thighs to pull him into her faster. Sweat began to pool between their bellies as they slapped off each other. He leaned back, raised her legs and propped her calves on his shoulders, pounding deeper and deeper into her.

Their mouths open, gasping, panting, sharing breath. She began to call out, “Don’t stop! More! Harder! Fuuuuuck me!” exciting him more and more with every cry.

Watching her face; how her eyes squeezed shut, how her cheeks flamed pink, how her teeth bit into her lower lip, watching the sweat trickle down her throat, he couldn’t hold back any longer. A few final thrusts, extra hard and deep – he came. He closed his eyes and let the pleasure flood his system, feeling her clench around him, milking him, before sinking back into the bed beside her.

His nose buried in her damp hair, breathing in the scent of her, he smiled and held her.



Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.




Saying Goodbye…

Today, I did a thing.

I finally, at long last, took a step towards accepting my new reality.

I filled a charity bag with all the clothes I will never fit into again.

It was a difficult and challenging thing to do – it felt as if I was saying that, even if I do lose weight, I will not ever be buying my clothes in the kids section again.

I truly marvelled at how tiny some of the pieces were… was I ever that slight?! Really?

So, there are some 11 year old girls in Chernobyl that will be getting a stash of jeans and tops soon…

…and I must accept that my days of being a waif are over.



Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


I could feel his eyes on me, following me as I moved around the room.

Memories of how we had spent the afternoon, entangled in each other’s sweating bodies; fucking, sucking, biting, slapping, raised a blush on my chest and cheeks as his gaze burned my skin.

No one in the room knew about us. It was our secret. Ours alone. They knew us simply as colleagues, collaborators, teammates.

I watched him sip his wine as he mingled, watched him smile and chat to our friends and associates, knowing that I knew him more intimately than anyone else there. I knew what made him groan with pleasure, what moves rendered him helpless and lost. I knew how to make this dominant, strong, quiet man sink to the floor in exhausted satiety. I knew how the sight, the feel, the taste of me drove him wild, robbed him of speech, made his eyes roll back in his head and his breath catch in his throat.

Our eyes met. My cunt throbbed with want for him. Even though we had played all afternoon, I wanted more. I never had enough. He glanced towards the French doors leading to the hotel garden and his message was clear. Excusing myself, I put down my drink and discretely left the room.

I welcomed the warm summer evening breeze on my skin, which was clammy from the crowded room. The scent of the rose garden filled my head as I walked towards the quiet area, secluded from sight of the conference room.

I felt his presence before he spoke my name, his voice deep and husky, then his lips were on mine, stealing my breath, claiming me as his. He pushed me up against the stone wall as he nuzzled my throat, nipping my skin and pulling my dress down from my shoulder. His mouth moved to my nipple, sucking hard and biting it, rolling it between his teeth. My cunt ached for him and he knew, as his fingers found it, wet and swollen; ready.

Pushing my dress up past my hips, he sank to his knees and buried his face between my thighs, his tongue working on me as his fingers pumped inside me. I closed my eyes, grasped his hair and threw my head back against the wall, blocking out everything but the sensations he was bringing out of me.

As the first flickerings of orgasm built within me, I opened my eyes. Standing slightly outside of the shadows was Simon, who I knew only from passing and saying a quick hello. Tall, well-built, blue eye and with a hint of beard, I had noticed him, but we hadn’t spoken much ever. He was watching us, his eyes focused on me, as he stroked the hard length of cock peeking out from his flies. He smiled at me, and the thrill of being seen, my naked breast hanging out of my dress, my leg hooked over my lover’s shoulder as he lapped and drank from me, pushed me over the edge. I moaned loudly as I lost myself in the surge of pleasure, my knees buckling beneath me. He caught me before I hit the ground, his arms holding me up. His mouth tasted of me as he kissed me again.

Later, as I hovered by the buffet, deciding what to load onto my plate, a voice from behind me whispered in my ear, “You look beautiful when you come, Alice.”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.



TMI Tuesday – August 16th

1. Where is the most beautiful place on earth and why?

I find this almost impossible to answer because I have been fortunate enough to visit several breathtakingly beautiful places in my life. For me, anywhere that is nature based is beautiful – on the beach, up in the Wicklow mountains, in a forest, even in my garden, surrounded by my plants, birds singing and bees buzzing.

2. How old is the most expired item in your fridge?
Guilty! It’s usually to be found in the veg drawer – a limp, soggy lettuce or a bag of carrots that are soft and pliable in a way carrots have no business being.
3. What’s under your bed?
Nothing! I have a bed with drawers in it so if that counts, you will find stocks of deoderant, hairspray, tampons, floss etc.
4. What is in your pocket?
A tissue… never be without a tissue!
5. Which famous person would you like to be best-friends with? Why?
Amy Poehler! She doesn’t know it, (yet), but we would make the most excellent friends… She is smart, funny, gorgeous, talented… sure it’s like looking in a mirror, haha!
Now if only I can get my hands on her number…
6. There is now a line of lacy lingerie for men. Would you wear it or like to see your man in it? See here and here
Depends… I think the androgenous/gender bender thing can be very sexy – on the right man. I do like a man that’s ‘man enough’ to go there! And if he’s wearing eyeliner, so much the better!
Bonus: Think The Olympics. Men’s gymnastic uniforms–sexy or goofy? Discuss!

Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! Look at those bodies! Look at that strength and control! Sexy doesn’t begin to cover it!gym_men_tmi————TMI Tuesday blog

TMI Tuesday blog

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link totmituesdayblog from your website!Happy TMI Tuesday!💋Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.comAll rights reserved.

I’m Still Here… Just

“What are your plans for today?”

“I’ve none. That’s the problem. Well, I’ve some laundry and ironing to do but that’s it.”

“Any writing?”

“Nothing to write about.”

“What about some photography? You haven’t done any in a while, have you?”

“Nothing to photograph.”

“Well, there’s your task today then.”

I sigh.

“You’ve got to help yourself love.”

This was our conversation as he dressed after his shower this morning.


You may, (or more likely, may not), have noticed that I’ve been very quiet for a while now. My last entry to this blog was July 18th, and even that was just to link to elust.

I have felt completely devoid of inspiration. I have nothing to say that I think is worth sharing.

I feel aimless; I have no routine, no goals, no purpose.

I drift.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner are the only markers of my day. Sometimes I feel like I am existing merely to get to the next mealtime.

Many days I don’t bother to get dressed.

I can’t remember the last time I was outside alone.

“I’m sorry I look so shitty,” I say several times a day. He replies, telling me to shush and that I am beautiful.

I am clueless as to how to fix this…

Do I need a routine? Do I need him to tell me what it is? The ‘little’ in me strives to be obedient and pleasing, but I know I will probably rebel against any instructions that he gives me, because I feel too tired, too apathetic to carry them out.

Perhaps I feel unworthy of feeling any better?

I am five weeks into my new medication… the so-called miracle pill that is Prozac. Is it working? Maybe, to some extent. But not enough. Not consistently. I have fleeting moments of confidence and contentment, where I do not despise myself, but they do no last.

I sit here, 9.50am, yet another day where I am not showered or dressed yet, and with no plans for the day ahead of me, with only a detached sense of resignation that nothing will change. Numb.

Is this it? Is this how it shall be? Forever?

Why am I even sharing these meandering thoughts? Why bore and burden you with my non-issues?

With a deep sigh, (apparently I sigh A LOT), I end this decidedly mediocre, self-pitying post.

I hope illicithoughts will return to being a place where I can express myself again, hopefully entertain you, make you think, make you angry, make you sad, make you laugh.

I hope, but I can’t promise.


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.



Elust #84

Elust 84 header
Photo courtesy of A to sub-Bee

Welcome to Elust #84

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #85 Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

About Those “Apple Thighs”
Why the Hell Haven’t I Rebelled Yet?


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

IDENTITY – hiding the evidence
friday flash–service


~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Good In Bed

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Erotic Fiction

Pubic Disturbance
Colds and Lust
Sex Machine
A Dirty Bathroom Floor
I’m Sorry I’m So Silent
S’il Vous Plaît
Edge of Morning
Dancin’ (Most) of the Night Away
Airport Arrivals

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

42 Kinds of Casual Sex
Living in Fear – An Essay on Male Entitlement

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking
Reconciling dominance and love
She’s a Very Kinky Gor

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Run the good race

Erotic Non-Fiction

We Made A Resolution To Make Love Everyday
The 20 Minute Orgasm
More on cunt, corridors & Schroedinger’s cock
Stoned Birthday Sex
Room with a View
I’m Not Done With Your Throat Yet
It’s a strange path to trust.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Poly and Pets

Writing about Writing

Why Write Erotic Fiction?
ELust Site Badge

F4TF #32 – Spread The Love


Do you believe one gender is more naturally promiscuous than the other?

Why do you think this is?



In a word… NO!

In my opinion, how promiscuous, (btw, I dislike the word itself – it has a judgey tone to it that does not sit well with me), a person is depends on the individual involved, their sex drive, their feelings/beliefs about sex, their past experiences/upbringing, availability of partners, and the society they are living in, how it views sex and gender and how the person allows that to impact their behaviour.

I don’t adhere to the idea that men are naturally more promiscuous than women. I think, unfortunately, our society deems it more acceptable for men to sleep around… yes still! A glance at Twitter, Instagram, FB, (any social media platform really), highlights the double standard that still exists when it comes to gender and sex.

I wonder how younger people see it these days? Are girls who have sex still seen as sluts or easy where boys are seen as studs and scorers? If that is still the case I feel very sad. Although, we are living in the world of Tinder and such now, so perhaps there is less stigma attached to casual hook ups than there was ‘in my day’, (god, I’ve become old enough to use that phrase! Kill me now!).

Sex is a natural drive, just the same as hunger, thirst, sleep… I wish we could just let go of the judgement that surrounds it and celebrate how amazing it is.

Fuck as many people as you want to, or don’t… do what makes you and the person/people you are with happy.

(It might be a tad obvious that I am not in a wonderful mood today! A summer cold, combined with a hangover and headache, makes for a grumpy Kat, I’m afraid…)


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.