F4TF #4 – The Ties That Bind



This week”Food For Thought Friday” was on the subject of Fuck Buddies/Friends with Benefits, posing the question:

Is it possible to have a long-term “no-strings” sexual relationship?

Ah! The Wookster and I have enjoyed several stimulating discussions about this very topic. I also picked Exhibit A’s brains about a while ago. It really does fascinate me because I have never had a FwB/FB… ever!

I started having boyfriends at the age of 13. It was sweet and innocent enough, kissing, a bit of fumbling around, nothing more until the age of 16/17 when sex entered the equation. I only had sex with people I was ‘going steady’ with… boyfriends. Once the relationship came to an end we went our separate ways and usually never really spoke again. That’s just how it worked where I came from.

At college I had a few boyfriends and a few one nighters, (shush, don’t tell anyone!), but again, sex either happened in a relationship or, for one nighters, there was no aftermath, no follow up or repeat performances.

Then I met the OH, fell head over heels and moved in with him practically from day one. That was 1991. My dating/sleeping around/one night stand days were over!

I struggle to understand how FwB/FB works.

If I had a casual hook up with someone, I really think it could only happen if I liked them as well as fancied them. No matter how hot you are, if you are unpleasant, boring or rude I would have no interest in you.

I am convinced that, if I ‘like’ someone; if I enjoy their company, laugh with them, have good conversations, and we became sexual, then I would fall in love. I don’t think I could bear to think of them as simply a friend any more and the idea of them with other people would upset me.

Maybe I’m just old fashioned? Naive?

Maybe I “settled down” very young and missed out on the exploration of different types of casual relationships that happens during people’s young adult life? That was Exhibit A’s suggestion and it really did make sense to me. I actually do only have experience of sex and relationships from either an adolescent perspective and or committed, monogamous perspective.

Perhaps if the OH and I were to part ways, once the heart-break was healed, maybe I would be interested in having a regular sexual partner, but without the ties or strings of an actual relationship. Hmmm… I don’t think so! I think I’d want it all… walks together, dates, meals, long drives… surely that’s more than FwB?

I think I am even confused about exactly what makes a relationship FwB/FB rather than a… well, relationship! If the difference is you have the freedom to fuck other people, then I think that you are in a relationship but it is an open one, perhaps a poly one, (as opposed to randomly having one nighters).

Am I splitting hairs? Heeeeelp!


Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.




A special thrill writing this after the divine Ms. Rebel asked to use my SinfulSunday photos a prompt!

Thanks Rebel! See who else is writing here.

She was done crying. The shock and hurt had left her, replaced by raw, seething fury. The tears that blurred her eyes now were fuelled by rage.

She looked around the room that they had shared for 25 years of marriage. The bed that they had made love in, conceived two children in, woken up next to each other in.

She remembered meeting him in university, his clean-shaven young face and gangly body, so different to the fuller, more muscular, bearded man he was today. She had watched him grow from an awkward shy teen into a confident professional with the ability to seduce a roomful of people with his charisma and charm alone.

She had loved witnessing every milestone in his life.

She thought of his face when she pushed their daughter into the world; the pride, the love, the awe with which he looked at her and the new addition to his life. The fierce, protective energy that radiated from him as he held his little girl in his arms. His lips pressed to hers as tears flowed down his face mingling with her sweat.

She remembered him holding her as she lay broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor, their second child seeping out from her body too early. She had wailed and keened as he rocked her tenderly, swallowing his own pain to bear hers. In the days to follow he patiently allowed her to grieve as she needed to, in silent solitude, until she turned to him ready to share her hurt. They had cried in each other’s arms, watched their sleeping daughter and grown stronger.

She looked at the crumpled covers on their bed, thinking of the love they had made there, the raw, atavistic fucking they had drenched the sheets with. He had been an awkward lover at first, nervous and unsure, but she, having more experience, had coaxed and taught him. She had showed him how to please her and delighted in watching his eyes widen in surprise and wonder at the things she could do to satisfy him. They had grown together.

Her bags were packed and waiting in the hallway. The taxi was due. She had cleared out the joint account. She opened her purse and took out the article that had changed everything when she had discovered it wedged under the drivers seat of his car as she leaned in to retrieve an apple that had fallen from the grocery bag. The shock of it made her mouth water as nausea overwhelmed her. She had slumped on the back seat, the apple forgotten as her fingers stroked the familiar smooth red satin.

Familiar to her, but not from her own collection. She recognized it from the day spent shopping with her sister, her divorced sister, shopping for lingerie in her quest to “get back out there” as she had put it. Remembering how giddy she had been as she bought the burgundy bra, thong and suspender set, giggling about the man she hoped to seduce with them. The man who had been texting her on Kik for weeks. The man she had been exchanging intimate photos with.

The taxi honked its horn, bringing her back to the present.

She placed the bra on the crumpled white sheet. No Dear John letter required. The bra said it all.

One last look, taking in the room, imprinting it forever in her memory, she turned and walked out, closing the door with a final click.

She opened the front door, beckoned the driver to help her with her bags and walked down the drive towards her new life.


Copyright, 2015,  illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.


Felicity over on The Dark Night Chronicles has issued her Friday Flash and in my opinion it’s her best yet! I am not sure anything I write can do her prompt justice but here I go…


The corn, glowing golden in the July sunshine, the same shade as the hair that cascaded down her back in long, loose curls. The cloudless sapphire sky, the same shade as her sparkling, laughing eyes; always laughing and joyful when she was with him. Her laughter was like music for him and his goal was always to elicit more from her. Her face, when she smiled, was more than beautiful to him, he had no words to describe to her how perfect she was in his eyes.

Instead he showed her his love, his devotion, his worship. He showed her by touching her the way she needed to be touched, by kissing her the way she needed to be kissed; by holding her in his arms the way her husband wouldn’t. He showed her by making love to her; slowly, tenderly, furiously, roughly, passionately, fiercely. His mouth devoured her most intimate places, his tongue teased strangled cries of pleasure from her throat, his hands and eyes knew every exquisite inch of her. Whatever she needed when she came to him, he gave her, unquestioningly, unconditionally, unabashedly.

He wanted her for himself, frequently begged her to be his alone. Tears fell as she shook her head. For her, it was a hopeless situation. She said she was trapped. She couldn’t see a way out. She would plead with him to not ruin what precious little time they shared together, running her hands over his chest, trying to distract him with her body and mouth. He always gave in to her. He could never resist her. He could never get enough of her.

They lay, spent, in each other’s arms on the worn out mattress, in the tiny wooden cabin, which was really more of a shed than anything else, every Saturday, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, chests heaving, limbs entangled and intertwined. He ran his fingers through her damp hair, cherishing her, his nose buried in her curls, intoxicated by her scent, whispering softly to her as she drifted into a sated slumber.

“Savannah, my sweet, sweet, sweet Savannah.”

Afterwards, they would dress and talk about small things, never acknowledging the spectre of sadness in the small room, never discussing the fact she was going home to her husband, his brother.

His eyes scan the horizon, taking in the passing cars on the twisty rural mountain road, lined with woods and wild rhododendron, the old farmsteads grazing sheep, cattle and horses, and the abundant cornfields.

Every Saturday, he sits in his orange Kubota; then he waited in his truck for her, to take her up to their makeshift rendezvous; now, he remembers the afternoons of laughter and lovemaking they shared before it ended.

Removing his baseball cap to wipe the sweat off his brow, he shakes his head; ended.

It didn’t end. It was ended for them.

That last Saturday she was nervous, distracted and fidgety. He felt the resistance in her body as he held and kissed her. As his fingers lifted her shirt, her hands flew to stop him, confusing him. She had never denied him before. She was usually more than eager to be naked with him, greedy for him.

“Savvie, what’s wrong? What is it?” he frowned down at her, noticing the tremble in her bottom lip, “Jesus Savannah! Tell me!”

Shaking her head as the tears began to run down her cheeks, she leaned against him, all strength leaving her body. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, she gasped and flinched in pain and cried out. Hands on her shoulders he pulled back from her and looked at her face, her eyes refusing to meet his.

“Savvie, if you don’t let me see, if you don’t take off your shirt, I’m gonna take it off for you,” he hated sounding so cruel and forceful with her, but he had to know if his suspicions were in fact true.

“Please… please Jake, don’t ask me to,” weeping softly. He reached over and lifted the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, recoiling at the angry bruises that patterned her stomach and ribs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him…” he growled, running from the room to his truck outside, gunning the engine and leaving a cloud of dust as he sped down the dirt lane.

Wiping his eyes as he once again felt the weight of regret and guilt settle on him, remembering her face as she slammed open the door to her kitchen, finding him and his brother on the floor, bloody and clawing at each other like two pit bulls, her screaming for them to stop.

Remembering his brother scrambling to his feet and launching himself at her, his fist connecting squarely with her cheek, sending her flying across the front porch. Remembering being unable to make it to his own feet in time to stop his bastard brother kick her in the stomach, and then the sickening crack as his boot met her head. Remembering his own screams as he watched his Savannah being beaten to a bloody pulp, unable to make his legs support his weight, his vision blurring and feeling himself float away into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was her once beautiful face, ruined by his brother’s rage.

Every Saturday, he sits in his tractor until sunset, at the top of the lane leading to their cabin and he grieves for her, for them, for their lost future and the life they will never have.

Grieving for the rendezvous that will never happen again.

The Affair… (Part IV) The Dance

We unpack the shopping bags and I see that he has bought wine, fresh crusty bread, brie, cured meats, figs… my stomach roars and I blush bright red.

He throws his head back laughing and kisses my hand.

“Lets get you fed baby.”

I open the wine and cheese to allow them both to breathe as he cuts the bread and arranges the meat and fruit on a large plate. He takes a blanket from the sofa back and throws it out over the floor, puts the food and our plates and glasses on it.

“A picnic Will?” I grin and he sits down and pats the blanket next to him. I sit and start to giggle.

“Music?” he asks and I nod yes, wondering what he will choose. We have discussed our music tastes several times, and I know we share some, but also that he listens to artists I would never play. He grabs a remote control from the side table and hits play.

The mournful strings from Damien Rice’s Delicate reverberate through the room and I hug him tight. He knows that song makes me tingle.

Lifting his glass, he proposes a toast, “To us… at last.”


After eating and talking, and snoozing slightly on the blanket, he stands and takes my hand, leads me upstairs.

I feel heat and throbbing between my legs as he leads me to his bedroom. He pulls his shirt over his head and sits near the edge of the bed. He waves me to come sit and when I do, he manouvers me so that I am sitting on the edge between his open legs, facing his mirrored wardrobe.

Blood flushes my neck and cheeks as I realize what is on his mind. He reaches around me and opens the buttons of my shirt, sliding it down over my shoulders. His hands move down to my jeans button, and he pops it open. I lift my bum up to allow him to push my jeans and underwear down to my knees, then I finish the job and pull them off, discarding them on the floor.

He looks at me in the mirror, his face nuzzling against my neck, his stubble tickling me. I meet his eyes and feel desire so strong I think I might set myself alight.

His hands on my thighs, he pulls them apart to reveal me in the mirror, I see his eyes track down and linger there. He takes my hand and gently, but firmly, guides it down between my legs. I look at him in the mirror but his eyes are locked onto my groin.

I begin to touch myself, feeling my fingers slipping over me because I am so wet. He removes his hand and lets me take control of my own pleasure. I writhe against my own palm, using my other hand to stretch back my labia to allow me more access to my clitoris.

He pulls down one strap of my bra and exposes my breast. Takes my nipple between his fingers and lightly pinches it, rolling it between his finger and thumb, drawing it out, making it harder.

My head is back against his chest. I am panting and moaning.

I am so aware that he is watching me fuck myself and I feel… free, liberated and glorious! His breath in my ear as he whispers my name, “Lexxxxiii, sexy Lexi…” send shivers through me.

I stroke myself faster and faster, desperate to come. He grabs my chin and turns my head towards the mirror and says, “Open your eyes, look how beautiful you are,” and I open them.

My chest and face are flushed, one breast exposed, my legs wide open, my fingers buried deep within them.

I come… it feels as if it will never end, orgasms surge through me, once, twice, again, three times. I cry out, feeling tears springing to my eyes. I cannot take anymore and pull my hands away but the aftershocks continue to flood through my body.

He lifts me onto his lap, sucks on my wet fingers and wraps his arms tight around me, holding me as I sob against his chest.

“You are amazing Lexi.”


We lie, side by side in his bed, naked beneath the covers. There are things I want to say but I don’t want to ruin our time together.

“Will? How is this going to end? What are we actually doing?”

He sighs heavily. Sadness shadows his lovely blue eyes and I feel awful for saying it. He has told me about his depression and I am scared that bringing reality into our weekend has brought him down.

I also know what it feels like to be in that dark place and I don’t want him going back there.

“I’m sorry babe. Don’t look so sad. We don’t have to talk.”

“I just hate to think of this ending,” he reaches over and strokes my cheek tenderly.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“I will be… if you kiss me again,” and I pull him close and do exactly that.


We need to get back to London, but I don’t want to. I am loving being here in his house, surrounded by his life. We left our luggage at the hotel, all I have is my handbag, but I want to spend the night here, at his place.

“Will, babe? Do we have to go back tonight? Can’t we stay here and go back in the morning?” I whisper, scared he will hate the idea.

A broad grin spread across his face, “Sure baby, why not?”

I shriek with delight and clap my hands.

“I’m cooking for you! Can we go back out and get things?”


I select a random radio station and dance around his kitchen as I collect a chopping board, knives and pans to make supper with.

He watches and chuckles to himself. I throw mushrooms at him and order him clean them.

I chop onions and garlic, fry them off in oil and add the sliced mushrooms. He hands me a glass of red wine and I sip it, enjoying the rich spicy tannins on my tongue.

As I stir the mushrooms he comes behind me and wraps his arms around me, swaying to the music. A slow song has come on the radio and he reaches over me, shuts off the gas and spins me around. We move to the middle of the floor and begin a slow dance together, his arms around my waist, mine reaching up to circle his neck. I have to strain my neck a bit to look up at him so I lay my head against his chest instead.

I hear his voice, low, softly singing along and I listen to the lyrics…

 “You only miss the light when it’s burning low

Only miss the sun when it starts to snow

Only know you love her when you let her go”

The words ring out, the elephant in the room rears its ugly head and we hold each other tighter and sway slowly to the music.

The song ends, we smile sad smiles as I move back to the stove and turn on the gas again, picking up my wine for another sip.


Morning sunlight streams through his window, waking me early. Looking over to see him still asleep, I lie back and reflect on last night.

After eating, he took me back to his massive sofa and we lay together listening to music. He ran his fingers through my hair and rubbed my shoulders. Every time he touches me, heat flares between my legs, and last night was no exception. I turned, stomach to stomach with him, and licked the outline of his lips, felling his stubble against my tongue.

He opened his mouth and we kissed long and deep. My hand reached inside his jeans to find him hard and erect. We became more desperate to have each other and began tearing each others clothes off, panting and frantic. I lifted myself up, my hands on his chest, pushing my breasts together, and lowered myself onto him.

I didn’t need any preparation, I was wet and ready.

I rode him fast, hard, feeling the need to own him completely, too conscious that we had only one more day together.

His hair grinding against me pushed me over the edge and I called out his name as I came, feeling him thrust up into me as he felt his own orgasm take over.

Sinking onto his chest, smelling his scent and feeling his scattering of hair brush against my face, I closed my eyes and told him I loved him.

“I love you Lexi.”

Looking over at him again, I wish our lives were not as complicated.

The normality of us cooking together, setting at the table to eat and stacking the dishwasher, was simply lovely, but in the cold, hard morning light, I see that we were just playing house.

I think to myself, “Fuck it! It is what it is, enjoy it Lexi.”

I slide over to him and reach my hand down, deciding to wake him up with an orgasm.


copyright, 2014 illictthoughts.wordpress.com

all rights reserved

The Affair… (Part III) Home

We have ordered room service.

We sit cross-legged, Indian style, across from each other, in fluffy bathrobes and chew on our supper.

We keep glancing at each other and grinning. Both of us so glad this risky meeting has turned out so well… it could have been a disaster.

“Here,” he offers me a piece of his steak and I accept and pass my sub to him for a bite. The simple ordinariness of sharing food feels so normal… so right.

My mood darkens as an unwelcome thought enters my head, “How am I going to go back to my normal life after this?’

“Lexi? Baby?” concern in his blue eyes, his brow furrowed.

I shake my head and smile, now is not the time to dwell on reality and home. For now, I just want to savour every single moment I have with him.

“Nothing babe, just thinking… Hey! I want to see where you live!” it’s out of my mouth before I have time to think.

Am I pushing too far? Will he think I’m too intrusive?”

He smiles, “You do?”, takes a moment, his eyes on my face, really looking at me.

“Okay baby, tomorrow. I’ll take you home.”

I stifle a yawn. The travelling, the excitement, the nerves, the mind-blowing sex has finally caught up with me.

He takes our plates away and pulls down the sheet. His hands undo my robe and he pushes it from my body and lays it at the end of the bed. Picking me up, he lies me down, my head on the soft pillow, removes his robe and climbs in beside me.

Wrapping me up in his big arms, he kisses my nose and whispers, “Sleep baby.”


I wake up all at once, as I always do… Bang! Awake.

He is sleeping next to me, snoring lightly. I take the time to just watch him. His face is unlined in sleep, completely relaxed.

He looks so young…

I wrap myself in my robe and walk across the room to make coffee. He stirs as I put the cup down on his bedside table, blue eyes open and a smile is instantly on his lips.

He reaches up and grabs me, pulling me down and pinning me to the bed. My face is covered in kisses and his hands tickle me through my robe. I throw my head back and howl with giggles, “Nooooo! Will! Stop, stop!” gasping to catch my breath.

His hands still and he looks down at me. His mouth covers mine with the softest, most gentle kiss imaginable, “Morning baby.”

He is naked underneath the sheet and he opens my robe and spreads it wide. I shrug my arms out from the sleeves and wrap my arms around his neck as we kiss.

His hands run over my body, stroking my breasts, mouth on my neck, working down to take my nipple between his lips and suck on it. His palm slides down between my legs and fingers slip inside me, pressing against my tender spot inside, his thumb working on my clit.

I moan in pleasure and know it is not going to take me long to come. Opening my legs wide, I rock against him and surrender to my orgasm, feeling it run through my body all the way up my spine to my scalp.

He lies on top of me and enters me slowly, making sure I can accommodate him. Resting on his elbows, he looks down at me, our eyes locked on each other as he moves I and out of me with long slow thrusts.

We do not kiss.

We do not speak.

We simply look at each other and feel the connection grow between us with every stroke. His hand brushes my hair from my face, caresses my cheek, stroke my lips. I take his thumb into my mouth and gently suck on it.

His eyes cloud over and he spasms over me, his hips driving into me, bucking uncontrollably as he comes. His head thrown back, a groan of complete satisfaction leaves his lips and he looks down at me and kisses me deeply and sweetly.

I realize I am undeniably, unequivocally in love with him.


On the train we sit, holding hands and talking.

Once he opens up, and begins to talk, he is funny and smart. We play “guess what that person does”, thinking up bizarre and ridiculous occupations and relationships for our fellow travellers.

I snort so loudly at one point that a woman diagonally across from us glances up, startled.

“Lexi baby, I love hearing you laugh,” he strokes my chin and plants a light kiss on the tip of my nose. The startled woman looks away discreetly… how very British! My natural Irish nosiness would never allow me be so tactful. As we say at back home, “she’d go up your arse for information”.

The train pulls to its final destination. We are here!


He unlocks his front door and we enter his hallway. It is plain, neutral, minimalist.

“You want the grand tour?” he jokes and takes my hand to lead me through to his living area, an open-plan kitchen/lounge, decorated in muted greys and blues.

The lounge is dominated by a massive, oversized sofa and giant flat screen HDTV on the wall. A typical bachelor then!

“Hey baby I’ve nothing in, so are you ok to stay here, or do you want a trip to the shop with me?”

The temptation to be alone in his house is too great, and I opt to stay.

“Make yourself at home baby,” he grabs his car keys and leaves me with another kiss.

I kick off my shoes and walk around his kitchen.

Opening the fridge I see he wasn’t kidding. Apart from a couple of bottles of beer, cheese and various jars of condiments, it is bare. Yep… bachelor.

Stealing myself, feeling slightly guilty, I climb the stairs. He did say to make myself at home

His bedroom door is open.

Double bed, dresser, bedside tables, a built-in mirrored slide wardrobe. The walls again the soft grey he obviously favours.

The next door along is ajar and I tentatively push it open to see a large glass drafting table, angled 40 degrees, containers of pens, pencils and Sharpies, stacks of thick sketching paper.

Lying on the table is an unfinished drawing of abstract patterns and shapes, intricate in its detail. The swirling lines are obviously inspired by nature and I can make out what appears to be a female form, knotted up in the spirals and flowing strokes of black ink.

It is beautiful.

I knew he worked in graphic design but I had no idea he was this good. Looking around the walls I see multiple drawing pinned up.

Some are vivid in colour, neon blues and greens bursting from the sheets. Others are elegant black and white sketches.

Feeling as if I have crossed a line into invading his privacy I turn and leave, making sure to leave the door ajar as I had found it.

The front door opens and closes and I hear him call, “Honey! I’m home!” and laughs.

I appear at the top of the stairs, red-faced.

“Snooping are we?” he grins up, but there is not a trace of anger or irritation on his face. He simply looks delighted to see me.

I launch myself down the stairs and into his arms. He struggles to balance the shopping bags he is carrying as I leap up and wrap my legs around his waist. He carefully squats, lowers the bags to the floor and kisses me, smiling at the same time.

He carries me through and sits on his big sofa, me straddling him. Looking into his eyes, breathing fast, my heart pounding in my chest…

I want to please him.

To taste him.

I slide off his lap and kneel before him between his legs. Keeping my eyes on his, I unbutton his jeans and lower his zip. The desire is patent on his face, eyes dark and hooded, his mouth open.

Pulling his jeans and shorts down past his hips I look at his erection, hard and smooth in front of me. Taking him in my hand I begin to stroke him slowly. He licks his lips and balls his hands up at his sides, pressing down into the seat.

I lean forward and put my tongue at the base of his cock and oh so slowly lick along the underside from the root all the way up the ridge to his frenulum, where I pause to flick my tongue over this most sensitive part of him.

He moans involuntarily and I try not to smile. I lick his length and gradually take his whole head into my mouth, sucking gently at it, my hand at the base of him stroking up and down. I swirl my tongue around the tip, licking off the drop of pre-cum that has appeared there. I take a moment to cast my eyes up and see he is looking down at me. Our eyes meet and he groans again, his hands in my hair. I return to licking, gently sucking at each testicle in turn, and then using my whole tongue to run up and down his cock, my hand reaching up to rest on his chest. He grasps it in his and interlocks our fingers.

I use my free hand to stroke and caress his balls as my mouth continues to work on him. I feel his hips start to thrust, his breathing getting faster, his hand grabbing a clump of my hair.

I grab his hips with both my hands and pull him closer, moaning, creating vibrations along his skin.

I love him fucking my mouth and want him to thrust into me.

Feeling his tip at the back of my throat, I kneel up higher and adjust my head to allow him to enter me deeply, completely filling my mouth and and throat.

He cries out, driving his cock into my mouth. I taste his hot, salty juice and swallow it greedily.

His hands lift my chin and he looks down on me, his eyes heavy and his face flushed. I lick my lips, still tasting him.

“Lexi, baaaaaby,” and I stretch up to kiss his mouth.


Copyright 2014. illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All  rights reserved.

The Affair… (Part II) Waking


Something scratching on the back of my neck…

I feel warm breath and feather-light kisses run down my shoulder. His stubble grazes my skin.

We must have fallen asleep.

He is behind me, spooning me, his arms around me. His fingers seek out my breast and tease my nipple, as his other hand slides slowly down my body to my knee.

He gently lifts my leg up and wraps it back around his thigh, opening me up and slips his fingers inside me, finding me ready for him.

He strokes my clitoris deliciously slowly. Deliberate, leisurely circles.

I arch my back against him and raise my leg higher on his thigh, my arm reaches around over my head to grab his hair.

I am rocking my hips and grinding myself against his hand as he continues his exquisite torture. He pulls on my nipple and breathes heavily into my ear, “Baaaaby”, causing all the tiny the hairs on my body to stand to attention.

My orgasm floods over me, slower than usual. I can feel every nerve ending in my body light up.

Eyes closed and mouth open, I whimper my helpless cry of ecstasy.

He moves my leg off from his thigh and gently rolls me over on to my stomach. He starts to kiss from the nape of my neck, all the way down my spine, running his tongue over my skin.

He lifts my hips up slightly, I kneel and rest my weight on my elbows and forearms. I feel his erection sliding over my vulva which is wet from me coming only a few minutes ago.

He teases me with his cock until I groan, begging him to just fuck me. He enters me slowly, pulls out and enters again, and so begins the most intense, deepest sex I have ever had.

I dip my head, resting my forehead on the mattress and pushing myself back onto him.

He pulls out.

“Noooo!” I moan, but not for long as I feel his tongue licking me, entering me. I grip the top edge of the mattress, my fingers crushed against the headboard, and I arch my back to give him more access.

Just as I feel my second orgasm approaching, he stops licking and slams himself into me, hard.

I cry out.

His hands on my hips, holding me firmly as he pounds himself into me. I raise myself up on to my hands and knees, and let him smash into me, my entire body shaking.

I call out his name as I come again, my walls pulsating around his cock.

One final thrust and he grunts with exhaustion and euphoria and falls off me, landing beside me. Our eyes meet and we smile and begin to giggle.

“Bath, baby?” he asks.


I run the enormous bath while he lies on the bed, being very generous with the bath products. I want lots of bubbles.

I catch sight of my naked body in the full-length mirror and pause.

He has completely changed the way I see myself.

Rather than looking at my reflection and criticizing it, I now see the parts of my body that give him pleasure. I take a moment to appreciate my round, full breasts, still firm and defying gravity. I look at the vertical line that runs down my torso from between my breasts to my navel. I turn to the side and let my eyes wander over my flat stomach and around to my behind.

I gasp as I see him reflected in the mirror, standing behind me at the bathroom door, grinning at me. I blush bright red

“Caught ya!” he laughs and wraps his arms around me, lifting me into the bath like I am a child.

He climbs in behind me and I settle between his open legs. I lie back and rest my head against his chest. He cups my chin and softly turns my head around to him, kisses me on the lips, bumps his nose playfully against mine. I settle on his chest and close my eyes.

His fingers trace my wet skin, starting at my jawline and sweeping down between my breasts to rest on my stomach. I press back against him, feeling completely relaxed, my muscles loose and languid.His hand moves down lower and teases me under the water. Although I am not sure I can take anymore, I moan and automatically part my legs for his hand to hold me. He doesn’t move his hand at all, simply cups me, but I feel the heat between my legs anyway. Just his hand being there arouses me, and I find myself breathing harder.

I sit up and turn around to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Foamy bubbles run down my breasts and he watches them and licks his lips. I feel he is getting hard against me again and I reach down under the water to take him in my hand. He feels massive against my small hand.

I stroke him until he is rock hard.

Lifting myself up, I guide him into me and again drape my arms around his neck as I lazily move up and down him, the water gently slapping against the side of the bath. He leans in to kiss me but I shake my head, maintain eye contact.

His hands hold my ass and he allows me to set the pace… slow and steady, until we simply cannot hold off any longer.

Water splashes onto the slate floor as we speed up our thrusting, my breasts bouncing, our breath fast and shallow

He breaks my gaze, throws his head back and jolts into me, “Fuuuuuck….”, his voice low and gravelly.

I smile with delight, knowing I have given him so much pleasure, knowing I have made him come yet again.

I grin at him, “Lets order room service!”


 Copyright, 2014 by illicithoughts.wordpress.com.

All rights reserved.

The Affair… (Part I) Meeting


My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I boarded the plane.

That’s a lie. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since we began this… what? virtual affair?

The next tube stop is where we will meet for the first time. I take out my compact and check if I look ok.

My face is too red, flushed. All I see are imperfections, but it’s too late to turn back now.

The tube pulls to a stop.

It is time…

I am struggling, trying to heave my luggage off onto the platform. (As usual I have packed enough for a month rather than a weekend.)

A large hand grasps the handle of my case and I look up and, there he is, smiling down at me. He looks like an excited little boy, a big grin spreading across his face. His face is flushed too and I remember his endearing tendency to blush when he is nervous.

We manage to finally get the damn case onto the platform and stand, just looking at each other, for a few seconds, although it feels like forever.

“Fuck it”, I think and launch myself at him, arms wide, inviting a hello hug.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he wraps me up in his arms and I realise just how much bigger than me he is.

He kisses the top of my head and I lift my face up to look at him.


I giggle, “Hi you.”


Now what?

We have to go to the hotel to drop off my bag.

I am wondering what he expects will happen there.

What do I expect?

We walk the short distance to the hotel. It feels strange, walking next to this tall man that knows so much about me, but who I have only just physically met. I knew I would feel nervous, but I am surprised at how awkward I feel beside him… like a teenager on a first date.

It occurs to me that THIS is our first date! And it will either begin or end with us in bed.

I feel slightly outside of myself…

I have flown to another country, with the full intention of having sex with a man I met on the FUCKING Internet!

This is so unlike me. But he is funny and very sweet. He really doesn’t know how lovely he is, which is sad. We found that we share so many interests it is uncanny.

Nine months of messaging, Skyping and emailing has brought us here… finally meeting in person.

And he has a strange Effect on me whenever we talk over the net. I am in a state of near constant arousal, remembering the things he has said to me. My heart is always racing. I am perpetually wet and throbbing. I have found my hand inside my underwear on a daily basis.

I have no idea why this has happened but it just feels too good to stop.

That is why I am here.

I am babbling on about my journey, nerves making me even more talkative than usual. He smiles down at me and listens, his eyes completely drinking me in. He is carrying my bag, (how gentlemanly!), and reaches over with his free hand to take mine, fingers interlocking, and he brings it up to his lips and kisses my wrist.

He has checked us in already so we go straight to the elevator in the hotel lobby.

As the doors slowly close, I release the breath that I’ve been holding and lean against the elevator wall.

His brow wrinkles with concern, “Are you ok?”

“Nervous. I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” I am blushing as I admit this.

“It’s ok baby, there’s no rush. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

Swallowing, I nod and know that I can trust him.

We enter the room. It’s very modern and minimalist, which I love. He has chosen well.

I glance into the bathroom and see the enormous bath. I smile, he remembered!

He has placed my bag next to his and turns to me, eyebrows raised in a question, “What now?”

“Walk?” he suggests and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed but I nod, yes.


It is cold along the South Bank and I am shivering. I shouldn’t have brought only my leather jacket. He looks down and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close to him to keep me warm.

He smells good. I lean my head against his chest as we walk past the BFI and down towards Tate Modern. He is quiet as we walk and I wish he would talk more.

I love his voice.

Eventually, we find a bench beside Tower Bridge and we sit.

“You’re not talking much!” I scold him.

He bends his head down to me and says, “I needed us to walk because if I did this back at the hotel, I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” and his lips brush gently against mine. I respond immediately, parting my lips to allow his tongue inside to meet mine. His arms are around me, holding me close, and all I am aware of is his tongue, his smell, his stubble against my face.

The kiss lasts an age. We are completely oblivious to passers by or noises around us.

I break our contact. I am breathless and need a moment. The Effect has kicked in very strongly and I squirm on the bench. I look up at him and can’t help but start to giggle, releasing all the tension I’ve been feeling. He starts to laugh too and throws his head back.

We have finally broken the ice.


 Standing next to each other in the elevator, our fingers barely touching.

We reach our floor and he opens the room door for me. I kick off my shoes and shrug off my coat. I’m still freezing and I am hyperaware that I’ve been travelling since 5am and, as much as I want him, I need a hot shower… alone.

“Do you mind of I take a shower?” I ask as he puts the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

“Want company?” he grins and I am beyond tempted to say yes.

I explain that I need some time alone and he nods and smiles.

He is patient.

I like that.

Inside the bathroom, I take off my clothes as the shower runs. As I step in and begin shampooing my hair, I look at the door and am intensely conscious that it is unlocked. There is nothing stopping him from walking in any second and seeing me, naked and wet under the stream of water.

The thought of that makes me breathe hard and fast and I feel lightheaded.

I finish up and wipe the mirror to look at my reflection. I turn my body to see what he will be seeing soon.

I’m short and small, with broad shoulders, for my height. My eyes move down to my breasts, which are still dripping from the shower. I think of the size of his hand and realise that, even though I complain they are too big, they will seem much smaller in his palm. My waist is small, and my torso and stomach are flat with a gentle roundness just below my navel. I’m relatively happy with what I see… as happy as any woman can be with her own body, I guess. I decide not to look at my thighs because I will lose my nerve. They are my ‘ugly’ spot…

I check my face. The steam from the shower has made my mascara run and I wipe under my eyes with my fingers, creating a smoky, smudged look that I like. Wrapped in a towel, I realize that I forgot to bring the fluffy bathrobe in from the wardrobe… Fuck!

I brace myself and open the door.

He is sitting on the end of the bed, fiddling with his phone. Looking up and seeing me, the phone falls from his hands to the floor. His face blushes red.

I walk over to the wardrobe and get the bathrobe, slip it over my shoulders and shyly turn my back as I drop the towel and tie the belt.

I bend to pick up the towel and see his feet next to me. As I stand up, he runs his fingers through my wet hair and says my name.

My hands against his chest, I lean up towards him offering my mouth to be kissed. He is a good kisser, gentle but firm, his tongue probing but never forcing itself onto me either.

He bends down and lifts me into his arms and, still kissing, walks over to sit on the bed with me on his lap.

Now we are face to face.

His mouth travels over my jawline and down my throat, kissing and softly grazing it with his teeth. I pull at his shirt and he lifts it over his head and throws it away. I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms and he resumes working on my neck.

His hand glides over the edge of the robe and slowly pushes it away to reveal my breast. He pulls away from my neck and just takes a moment to look at me, and then he pushes the robe off my other shoulder too so that it is pooled around my waist.

My chest is flushed, rising and falling as I breathe heavily. I bite my lip and watch him, watching me.

I am throbbing.

He moves his head down towards my breast and I shift myself to straddle his lap as his mouth finds my nipple and begins to tease it with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth completely and sucking it. I groan and press myself down onto him.

Even through his jeans, and the thick towelling robe, I can feel his erection against me.

His hands are on my back, stroking my up and down as he switches between sucking and nibbling at each of my nipples. I am starting to grind myself against him.

He looks into my face and flips me, so I am on my back and he is between my legs. Standing up, he undoes his jeans and in one fluid movement pushes them and his shorts down and steps out of them. I look down, see how big he is and lick my lips, wanting to taste him.

He leans down and undoes the belt of my robe and opens it out over the bed.

Feeling shy, I press my thighs together. His hand traces it’s way from my knee, over my thigh and up to my hip. He slides it across my stomach and stops where my hair begins.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

His fingers move over me and gently part my legs. I turn my head and close my eyes. I love this, but I feel so exposed, I can hardly bear it. His fingers slide inside me, finding me very wet and ready.

As his fingers move inside me, he kneels down at the end of the bed and starts to kiss the inside of my thigh, working his way up until I feel his breath against my clitoris. His tongue makes slow, lazy circles around it.

I grab the top sheet between my fingers and arch my back. His other hand moves up to massage my breast and pull gently at my hard nipple. I dig my heels into the bed and push myself down onto his face as I feel the warmth spreading from where his tongue is, over my body. He licks harder and faster, lapping at me until I cry out and writhe as my orgasm completely takes me over.


With the aftershocks still run through me, he is kissing my mouth and I taste myself on him. I reach down and grab his ass in my hands and pull him closer to me.

He is heavy but I want to be on top so I have to ask him to move, I couldn’t push him off if I tried.

Knowing what could be coming he grins, says, “Whatever you like baby,” and flips us again. I land with my head against his chest, legs straddling his hips, his erection huge against my stomach.

I take his head in my hands and kiss him, moving my breasts over his chest, tickling him.

I kiss down his neck, down his chest and stomach and finally arrive at his cock.

I trace the tip of my tongue over the head, licking the drop of pre-cum from it. My hand takes him and I begin to massage up and down, as I circle my wet tongue over the tip. I use my other hand to gently cup and caress his balls.

He groans and shoves his hands into my hair, but doesn’t force my head any further. I open my mouth and take the whole head into it, running my tongue over it and sucking gently, still sliding my hand up and down him. His hips begin to thrust and I know he is close.

I pull away and hear him moan with frustration and desire.

I sit up, my hips over his and, taking him in my hand I lower myself into him. He is huge, but I am more than ready for him. I raise and lower myself a couple of times until he fills me completely.

My hands on his chest, I begin to grind against him, moving my hips in a circle clockwise then anti clockwise. His eyes close and his head arches back. The veins in his throat are standing out and I can see the tension in his body.

I lean forward and grab his shoulders indicating I want him to sit. He pulls himself up and I kneel straddling him and kiss him as I begin to pick up my pace. I press down into the bed with my knees, giving me leverage to really push myself down onto him. I feel the friction of his hair against my clitoris and know I am going to come again.

My fingers digging into his back I rock faster and faster against him, his hands firmly grasping my hips, as he starts to really thrust up into me, hard, fast.

It is too much. I arch my back and cry out again and my second, stronger, orgasm hits me. I feel him buck into me one last time and he grunts as he too reaches his and shudders under me.

We open our eyes and look at each other. I stay sitting where I am and feel him gradually leave me.

We kiss again and turn to lie facing each other side by side.

“Baby,” he whispers.


Copyright 2014 by  illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.