Dry Spell

Readers, I am frustrated…

I have neglected my blogs for too long, for different reasons.

I have had a very challenging year or two, and it has most definitely impacted on my ability to get my thoughts straight in my mind, never mind getting them down in any coherent form that comes close to anything I would subject my followers to. (FYI: there is absolutely no guarantee that todays post will be any better, but my frustration and need to connect once again has overridden my internal quality control monitor.)

Health issues, both physical and mental, have plagued me and at several times have beaten me down to a point where some days getting dressed or showered has been a triumph. I am trying some new approaches which I hope will help me feel better and, fighting my realistic/fatalistic streak every day, I remind myself of the rewards to be gained from the changes, rather than dwell on how difficult they are to carry out. I have even, my lovely readers, made a chart that is stuck on my fridge! How very “self helpy” can you get?!

There have been days of wonderful positivity where I have wanted nothing more than to open my MacBook and write about all the good things I have in my life – a husband who is also my best friend, who knows all my darkest, ugliest secrets and loves me anyway, who makes me laugh til I cry, two beautiful dogs that bring me so much joy, a secure home to live in, enough money to always go to the ATM and not feel anxious, a garden built by myself and the OH which is peaceful and soul enriching to sit in… but I have not done so for fear of almost cursing my good fortune.

As for my fiction blog and my amateur photography, well, I have simply been feeling about as inspired as a used teabag. Walking used to be my therapy; ideas would come to me as I wandered through town, watching people and places, but I haven’t been out of the house much at all for quite a while, again for several reasons. Part of my new approach is to change this but it is proving more challenging than I thought it would be.

I read writing memes such as #Wicked Wednesday and #Kink of the Week but am left empty and frustrated at my complete writers block. I have entered the wonderful #Sinful Sunday, but only for the prompt weeks as I find right now I really need a push to produce anything.

Given my physical and mental health, I must admit that feeling sexy or sexual has been totally at the bottom of my list for a while now, which given that I am supposedly, (or at least, I once was), a sex blogger, is unhelpful to say the least.

I know it is a long process – lord, I have lived through 40-odd years of the fucking process. It is such a challenge to not get exhausted by it, by the fact that it never seems to have an end date in sight. They, whoever they are, say it’s not the destination that matters but the journey… easy to say when there is a sense that there is any realistic sense of ever reaching the destination, or when the journey is not constantly interrupted by obstacles and diversions. The OH, who I love more than anything, also has more than his fair share of stress and worry and believe me the only thing worse than one depressive is putting two together! He too had a run of bad luck healthwise this past year which has added to the stress and sense of fatigue.

I am hoping that by getting these, not so coherent, thoughts down today it will spur me on to return to writing.

I have found that blogging can be a two faced beast: recording how I feel can result in me reinforcing those feelings, and this is where the risk lies, depending on whether the feelings are positive or self-destructive.

Today I am feeling… ok. I have taken to playing positive music very loudly and it does help, although I am not sure the neighbours would agree.

Today is Friday and the weekend lies ahead and we plan on some serious rest time but I am hoping we will also get out walking, maybe even with my camera, maybe even lunch out.

As for writing… well, I will continue to look at prompts and memes and just hope that my voice comes back to me, (and as a certain quite dreadful writer puts it, “my inner goddess” finds her “salsa moves” again).

I feel a bit of a half person without her.

💋

Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

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Midnight Kiss

I heard her singing before I saw her; a sweet, high melody, like wind chimes on the salty night air. Unable to sleep, I had left the beach villa we were staying in and wandered down to the little cove nestled behind a group of rocks, silver moonlight guiding my way.

Then I saw her. Sitting in a rock pool, her back to me, long golden locks of hair spilled down her back, disappearing into the seawater at her waist. I could not take my eyes from her, even though it felt wrong to watch without her knowledge. Her voice was entrancing, hypnotic almost. She stiffened and, sensing my presence, turned her head and looked at me with eyes so large and sparkling I took a breath.

“I’m sorry,” I stumbled, “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t realise you were here…”

A tiny frown creased her forehead and she tilted her head quizzically before a radiant smile broke over her face and she beckoned me to move closer.

I was undeniably drawn to her. I knew it was not smart to sit with a strange, solitary woman on a beach at midnight but I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. She turned fully towards me and I saw she was naked. Her hair clung damply to her breasts, which were breathtakingly beautiful. Full and round, with erect little nipples peeping out from between the strands of hair. She stretched up her arms to me and, without hesitation, I sank into the warm water beside her.

Her eyes were a deep emerald green, even in the moonlight I could see that. She had a perfect little pixie nose and a pointed chin – elfin was the word that occurred to me as I looked at her. She leaned towards me and I felt her breath on my skin as she examined my face, her tiny, cold fingers tracing my jawline, and then she leaned in and kissed me.

Without knowing how it happened, she had pulled down my shorts and her hand was on my cock, stroking it, looking down at it in absolute wonder. I watched in disbelief as this gorgeous creature lowered her head and took me into her mouth, licking along my shaft with such greediness and intensity as her eyes looked up at my face. My hands wrapped in her hair and I surrendered to the pleasure she was providing. She moved and placed my cock between her breasts, squeezing them together with her hands. I thrust my hips, fucking her breasts as she giggled and moaned, playing with her nipples as she milked me. I couldn’t hold back any more, a hot, sticky arc spurted from me onto her face and she slowly reached up to wipe it and lick it from her hand.

She took my hands and put them on her breasts. I bent my head and sucked on her nipples; small and hard, they tickled my tongue. She moved against me, pressing herself into me, tiny moans of pleasure escaping her lips. I moved my hands down to her waist and felt her silken hips flare out in generous curves. She shuddered against me, clung to me and cried out. I heard a splashing sound. Pulling back to watch her come, I glimpsed the flash of gold fin as it flicked out of the water. She writhed, her nipples swollen and erect, a glow radiating from her skin as her tail flipped in and out of the water. Awestruck, I watched her orgasm rip through her. I watched the golden scales of her lower half ripple and her tail flip towards her stomach, her back arched as she continued to toy with her nipples.

As she settled, she opened her eyes and looked at me, an ecstatic smile across her face. She kissed me and then, as if she had never been there, ducked under the water line and was gone. I stood, still naked but uncaring, and watched her curvy form swim away into the depths.

One last flick of the gilt tail and then nothing…

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Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

The Boy

rainbowcircle1-150Prompt #227

Have you seen the new guy yet? Or do you remember back when he as still the new guy? Write a sexy story about him. Yes, him!


 

He was beautiful; the new boy.

I watched him as he stacked the glasses, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he worked, crouched down beneath the bar. He was singing something very low under his breath. He sounded good. I liked that he kept his own accent rather than adopting an American twang the way most people do when they sing pop songs.

He glanced up at me, his eyes light brown, and grinned. He knew I had been looking at him.

I felt my cunt throb as I stood over him. I’m old enough to be his mother, but in that moment that didn’t bother me. I just wanted to fuck him. I wanted to strip him naked and admire his young, firm body. I wanted those full lips of his on mine and on my clit. I wanted to ride him hard and fast and leave him drained.

He stood up and I realised he was a full foot taller than me. Standing very close to me, looking down at me, I felt a shift in the energy between us. Young as he was, it felt that he was in charge. The heat from his body, the scent of his skin, the sound of his breath, made me dizzy with desire.

“Anything you need me to do?” he asked. I hesitated, torn between telling him exactly what I wanted and staying professional.

He made it easier for me, “Coz I’m happy to do whatever you need,” and bent his head fractionally down towards me. I grabbed his hair, pulling his face down to mine and our lips clashed. He was as hungry for me as I was for him. His tongue in my mouth, his hands on my breasts, massaging them through my blouse, my cunt aching for his cock. He pushed my skirt up over my hips and slipped his fingers underneath my pants, smiling at how wet I was.

Leaning me up against the bar, he played with me, his eyes looking straight into mine the entire time until mine closed as I came, shaking and clinging to him for support.

A loud bang on the glass doors shattered the moment. The regulars were outside, waiting for their morning coffees or hair of the dog. He stepped back from me. Smiling, he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them before walking over to open up as I fixed my clothes.

I was already thinking about closing time.

💋

Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

No Going Back

“Beautiful,” his breath tickled her ear. Standing behind her, looking into her eyes in the mirror, he traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips and caressed her lips with his thumb.

She opened her mouth slightly, her tongue barely touching his skin, “I can’t really believe we are here. Doing this,” she whispered.

He felt her body tremble, “We don’t have to. We can stop right now.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

She leaned back against him, letting him take her weight. His arms circled her waist. He dipped his head to inhale the scent of her hair, his hands spreading over her stomach and up to cup her breasts. An involuntary groan escaped her lips as he lifted her tee-shirt up over her body and pulled it off her. Feeling his hands on the clasp of her bra, she suddenly felt shy as he pushed if from her shoulders to the floor and closed her eyes.

“No. Look. Look at us,” his voice was firm. She opened her eyes and saw the desire in his reflection; his eyes dark and heavy. She watched his hands move back up to grasp her breasts, squeezing them, rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, stretching them.

She arched her back and twisted her head to kiss him, her mouth open and ready. He teased her, flicking his tongue over her lips, not quite kissing her. Another moan.

His hands on her waistband, opening the button and zip of her jeans. She knew this was the point of no return. This was going to change everything between them.

He pushed her jeans and pants down over her hips, sinking to his knees to carefully, gently pull each of her legs free then, he knelt and looked up at her reflection in the full length mirror.

She was intensely aware of his gaze on her body, feeling a confusing mix of coyness and arousal. His hands were on her calves. He parted her knees, forcing her to stand with her legs open as his fingers moved upwards, massaging her inner thighs. Lifting himself to stand behind her, he gently parted her lips, finding her warm and wet for him, he began to stroke.

She closed her eyes, her head resting against his broad chest.

No going back now.

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💋

Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Chemistry

The spark between them was instantaneous.

Neither of them could deny it.

From the very start they both felt as if they had known each other forever.

They laughed at the same things, shared the same political ideas, both thought religion was nonsense and even ordered the same meal as each other off the menu.

They just clicked.

It felt easy.

Natural.

It was anything but natural.

*

The first time he kissed me it came as a surprise. I had longed for it but dared not think he wanted the same thing.

We had been walking in the park, throwing stale bread into the lake for the ducks when the rain hit us without warning. I remember I screamed at the sudden downpour and he took my hand in his and we ran to the bandstand for shelter. As we caught our breath, giggling and wiping our wet faces, his hand remained holding mine. We looked down at our entwined fingers and back up and he leaned down and kissed me; the gentlest, sweetest kiss I had ever received. Before I knew it his hands were in my wet hair and his tongue was on mine, our bodies pressed together as if we never wanted to let go.

I felt like I had come home.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at me. Really looked at me.

His eyes scanned my face, a slight frown on his brow, nothing but concern in his eyes, “I’m sorry, was that wrong? That was wrong, wasn’t it?” he whispered. I could smell coffee on his breath.

“Did it feel wrong?” I asked.

“It felt just so right, Nicola. Like… the rightest thing I’ve ever done.”

I giggled, “That’s not even a word!” and whether it was right or not seemed to fade away.

*

I think I fell in love with her the moment she walked into the café. Her short brown bob framing her face so perfectly, her tentative glance around to find me; then, when she turned those grey blue eyes on me I was done for.

We had been exchanging emails for months, getting to know one another, and had nervously agreed to meet in person. Looking at her, I was terrified and delighted in equal measure. This girl was going to change my life.

After our first kiss that day in the park, we had talked for hours back at my house. It was all I could do to keep my hands off her, but we agreed to take things slowly. We knew this was a dangerous and fragile thing we were embarking on. It needed to be approached properly.

I made her dinner and afterwards we sat on the sofa, her feet on my lap.

“Look at your little toes! God they are cute, what size shoes do you wear Nic?” I’d asked her. She really did have the most delicate, tiny feet I had ever seen on a woman.

“Two. I have to buy them in the kids department, “she giggled and wiggled her toes as I tickled her soles, “Stop!” she squealed and wriggled some more. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she squirmed. I saw her pants, white lace, and froze. The desire to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Our eyes met. We knew this was a pivotal moment.

She surprised me by parting her legs, providing me with a clear view of the crotch of her pants. I saw they were damp already.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. She nodded. Her breath ragged, her face flushed.

My fingers touched the lace. She gasped. I hooked my finger and pulled the fabric to one side so I could see her. She was smooth, glistening wet and absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on.

*

I will never forget the first time he kissed me down there.

He had pulled my pants off and simply admired me for a few minutes, whispering how much he loved what I looked like. His fingers has caressed me and then he dipped his head between my thighs and planted soft butterfly kisses all along my lips, his nose rubbing off my swollen clit. God he was good! He knew what he was doing. I came within minutes, spasming helplessly on his leather sofa, calling out his name. He lifted up and looked deep into my eyes and said, “I love you Nicola,” and kissed me before I had the chance to say it back.

*

I held her in my arms after we had made love for the first time, my face nestled in her messed up hair, smelling her caramel scented shampoo. I had never felt as complete or as happy as I did then, despite the dark cloud that lingered over us. It needed to be discussed. I looked down at her, her eyes closed in sleep, a light buzzing from her lips which made me smile. It could wait.

*

I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon and the sound of him singing along to the radio. He had quite a good voice, doing a decent attempt at the Ed Sheeran song playing. Pulling on a discarded tee shirt of his I walked to the kitchen and secretly watched him for a few minutes before joining in the song. He startled at first but a massive smile broke out over his stubbled face and I felt my heart soar.

We ate breakfast sitting on his patio, watching the birds feed from the wire baskets he had hung on the trees. He was edgy. I knew we were going to talk, but I dreaded it. I didn’t want to allow reality to ruin what we had discovered.

“Nic, we have to talk about this.”

I sighed, “Yes, I know…”

“So, where do we go from here?”

An unexpected flash of anger flared in me and I snapped, “Well, you’re older, you tell me,” and immediately felt foolish for my outburst.

“Yes, I am. It’s pretty standard for a father to be older that his daughter isn’t it?” he was hurt too.

I physically flinched from his words. But they were out there now.

“You don’t feel like my father. When I look at you I don’t see my father. I see Dan. The man I met months ago online, the man I love. My father is back home with my Mum in the house I grew up in,” there were tears in my eyes, “You are not my father!”

“Like it or not, I am. I was a fucking kid. 15 years old and clueless and we couldn’t keep you. But the fact remains. It’s true. I hate it,” his voice cracked but he went on, “I can’t explain this. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I look at you and I don’t feel you are my daughter. I’m in love with you. How can that be?” The despair on his face broke my heart.

I reached out to him. He didn’t resist my touch, but drew me in to lean on his chest. I climbed onto his lap and nestled there as we cried together.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t bear to,” I mumbled between sobs, “No-one has to know. We could make this work.”

*

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, but an expression of sheer hope on her face as she looked up at me from my lap. I had no idea what to do, but I knew I couldn’t lose her, not because of a fucking genetic mishap.

Yes she was my daughter, but that was just biology. I hadn’t raised her, hadn’t watched her grow up. This was different. This wasn’t abuse.

I had finally left bed after lying staring at the ceiling all night and gone online. We weren’t the only ones. Genetic sexual attraction they called it. There were Internet forums for god’s sake!

I looked down at her and thought, “She’s right, no one has to know. We can be together and be happy. We can do this.”

I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, feeling her smile against my lips.

💋

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It might be a wee bit tenuous, but I think I can just about manage to link this to Rebel’s prompt, “Identity” this week!

Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Final Limit

Do you remember what it felt like to love me?

Do you remember how you used to run to me gleefully at the end of each day as I returned home, your eyes alight with life and mischief? How you would throw your arms around my neck and launch yourself onto me like a force of nature, delighted to see me again.

Do you remember Laura? How I would pick you up and spin you around, our lips meeting, feeling each other’s smile beneath the kiss? How you would tell me that your love for me knew no limits?

But you started to walk towards me instead of run. A chaste peck on the lips replaced the missile of affection you used to hurl at me.

The day came when you simply called out from the kitchen rather than greet me at the door.

I was no longer the centre of your universe. I was, instead, a satellite you vaguely noticed on the outer edge of your world.

So, I ran the bath for you, steaming hot and bubbly as you liked it and carried you up stairs that day, your body limp in arms.

I held you down under the water and watched you come around. I watched the shock on your face as you struggled against me, your arms suddenly animated and clawing at my chest.

Ah, now you wanted to touch me! Is this what it took to see such life and passion in your eyes once more? To feel you desperately reaching out for me again?

I watched as the light began to die in your eyes, so similar to watching the love that died too.

Your pale skin turned pink by the hot soapy water. Your dark hair floating around your beautiful face, eyes glazed. Your perfect lips parted in a surprised O.

Laura, I remember everything; the joy, the love, the passion… back when it felt limitless.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Wicked Wednesday… Growing Older

rainbowcircle1-150“It starts on the day we are born – we grow older. For roughly the the first twenty years of our lives we never think about our age. Maybe some people don’t think about it for the first thirty years. But there comes a time when you do think about growing older. Are you at that point yet? How long have you thought about getting older? How old are you? Do you regret getting older? Why or why not? Come on, talk to us about age, your age! Or, write a sexy story about growing older…”

I am certainly feeling my age these days – but hey, ageing beats the alternative, right?

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Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.