Holy Grail

“James’ Street station. Please stand clear of the doors.” The automated voice crackled as the train slowed to a stop.

Rain beat against the clouded window. He pulled his long legs in from the aisle to allow fellow commuters to disembark and watched more people pile aboard. The smell of damp flooded his nostrils as wet coats crammed against each other.

The seat opposite him creaked as a young woman sat down, shaking her damp hair out of her eyes. Sighing loudly, she slumped against the faded, worn fabric and sniffed. His attention spiked, he looked up, noticed she was pretty; small, blonde, with a pale complexion, except for her nose, which was pink from the cold. She sniffed again. He smiled and returned to checking his emails.

A sudden gasp from across the table stilled him. Looking up from under his brows he watched as her eyes closed and lips parted slightly. She froze for a second, a tiny frown furrowed her brow and her hand moved involuntarily to her face in a fanning motion. He tensed, holding his own breath and waited. Another rapid inhale of breath and her shoulders rose, her chest expanded and her head fell back, exposing her throat. His pulse quickened. Her face creased, she curled up slightly and the cutest noise escaped her as she stifled her sneeze. Slightly frustrated by the anti climax, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He enjoyed the illicit thrill of his secret voyeurism. To anyone else, this was just a girl with a cold, but for him… so much more.

She sniffed as she rummaged through her bag, producing a ragged tissue from its depths. His eyes snapped open. Once again, he felt her urge to sneeze build up. He sensed the uncontrollable compulsion for release battling with her need to rein it in. Her eyes were pressed tightly closed, allowing him to watch her quite freely; to see her face contort into a pretty little grimace and her chest heave as she fought to retain control.

“Ahhhhhh…” she breathed. His blood pumped, he felt himself harden and his heart raced, “Choooooooooo!” she fell forward burying her face into the tissue.

For that exquisite second, she was completely herself; vulnerable, exposed, her polite social mask had slipped to reveal her true self – her mounting tension and explosive release reminiscent of a sexual thrill. His cock throbbed, pulsing and straining against his trousers. He shifted his weight in the seat.

“Haaaaaaaahhhhhh…” she sighed, her breath hitched. Once again, her face and body tensed.

He carefully, discretely activated the video on his iPhone to capture her rapture for his own private enjoyment later, as he realised, with increasing excitement, that she was the holy grail for a man like him – a multiple sneezer.


Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

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, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.




The heat woke him, stretched out naked on the soaking sheet, sweat beaded on his skin. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, arid as the desert. Slowly, he rose from the mattress, limbs leaden, joints swollen and stiff, and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the oversized fridge. Frosty air raised goose bumps along his drying skin and he leaned into the cool void, relishing the relief. The Super had promised to fix the AC but, as always, they were empty words. He downed ice cold milk straight from the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once his thirst was halfway quenched.

He drifted over to the open window, but the air outside was as stagnant and scorched as inside his apartment. He could smell the heat in the air; a heady mixture of tarmac, fried food, dry grass, smoke and sweat.

There was a light on across the courtyard, one floor lower than where he was. Seems he wasn’t the only one awake. He saw a room with an unoccupied desk, a laptop, a large glass of water next to it and some scattered papers. Just as he was about to turn away and see what reruns were on TV at 3am he noticed movement.

A woman came into view. Dressed in a flimsy camisole and tiny shorts, she was piling her long heir up into a high ponytail. She paused next to her chair and raised the tumbler to her mouth. He could make out the gulping of her throat muscles as she greedily swallowed the water. He watched as some dribbled down her chin and cleavage, soaking through the thin fabric of her cami. Mirroring his actions of only minutes ago, she dragged the back of her hand across her lips before dipping her fingers into the glass and taking an ice cube to rub along her temples and throat.

He felt a fleeting moment of shame for spying on her, but it was the most erotic and unselfconscious act he had seen woman do in quite a while. And she couldn’t see him. There was no real harm being done…

She sat at the laptop and read the screen, stretched her head from side to side and shrugged her shoulders. Then she began to type. He was intrigued; her mouth moved as she wrote and she would momentarily pause and gaze into the foreground as if searching for just the right word or phrase.

At one point she stopped, turned and looked directly out of her window, her dark framed glasses perched at the end of her small nose. He froze, rooted in case he gave himself away, suddenly intensely aware of his nakedness and the growing swelling at his crotch.

He could never resist a bookish girl with glasses and, seeing her face in full, he could see she was more than pretty. She looked a perfect combination of sweet and sexy.

He allowed his hand move lower as he wondered just how filthy she could be once she took those glasses off.


written at 3am during my own battle with insomnia…

yes I’m sitting at my kitchen table,

but I have the blinds drawn down… no-one is watching me!

Would you like to see more of these two? Yes/No in comments please!

Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

The Club

“Baby girl, get dressed, we’re going out.”

We are lying in bed.

He fucked me senseless after my gorgeous playmate left, reclaiming me as his after my bit of fun.

My mind still cannot adjust to this new person I seem to have become.

There was a time I would never have allowed myself to be used the way he uses me.

He hurts me. He humiliates me.

But then he spoils me with amazing sex, countless orgasms and, of course, new experiences like the one I’ve just had.

I have no idea how he feels about me. I could be just a toy to him.

I do know he doesn’t love me.

I still know so little of him and his life.

He talks a lot, he is a great talker, funny, insightful, intelligent, but when I ask about his life he shuts down. Those indigo eyes turn even darker, his mouth sets in a firm line and he turns away from me.

I have learned to stop asking.

Maybe one day, if this thing we have continues, he will open up to me.

“Wear the black dress. No underwear.”

Obedient as always, I go to get dressed.

He parks his car outside a Georgian townhouse in the city, gets out and comes around to open my door and help me out.

Pausing at the front door, he takes my chin in his hand and turns my face towards him.

“I’m going to cover your eyes. Relax baby girl, its cool,” he smiles as he ties the purple silk eye mask behind my head.

I hear the door open and he guides me inside.

I hear the sound of muted voices, jazzy music is playing low.

I smell cigar smoke, alcohol, leather and something else I cannot quite identify, a musky scent.

He leads me to sit in a leather armchair. I feel the touch of a glass at my lips and moments later the warmth of the brandy hits my tongue and I swallow.

I hear him talking low to someone next to us about “When we will begin”, and start to feel anxiety creep up over me. Begin what exactly?

A few more mouthfuls of brandy and he pulls my hands to raise me up out of the armchair. We walk a few steps then he lifts me up and carries me down some stairs.

I feel the soft velvet of the seat he places me on under my thighs and wonder what is about to happen.

The voices in the room quieting down and hush descends. He removes my eye mask and I realise that I am in a small private screening room, the darkness making it difficult to see anything. In front of me are rows of seats, like in a cinema, and I see the backs of several heads dotted around the room.

He leans over, his mouth against my ear and whispers, “Baby girl, relax and enjoy this.”

The screen ahead of us lights up showing a woman sitting on a bed, wearing a green silk dress. Her face is out of the shot, she is only visible from the collarbones down.

I inhale sharply. That is me! The hotel room!

I turn my head to him in panic and watch the grin spread over his face.

“Turn your fucking eyes to the screen baby girl, watch!” he growls into my ear.

I obey and watch myself undress and begin to play with myself.

His hand snakes up my thigh and pushes my dress up, fingers slipping inside my wetness. He fucks me with his hand as I watch myself do the same on the screen.

I scan the room and feel relieved to see no one is looking back at us.

His breath against my ear again, “Every man in this room wants to fuck you now, but they can’t. Why?”

I look at him, “Because I’m yours,” I whisper back.

“You. Are. Mine,” and his fingers work faster on me, bringing my orgasm from deep inside of me as my image onscreen also comes loudly.

I bite my hand to muffle the cry as I writhe in the seat.

The clip ends but the lights only brighten very slightly.

I am aware of the familiar odour again and realise what it is… the smell of sex, semen and sweat.

One by one the men stand up and leave the room until it is just he and I.

He unzips his jeans to reveal his erection. His head ever so slightly nods down towards it and I know what he wants.

Sliding off the seat I kneel between his legs and pull his jeans down further over his hips.

I run my tongue over his testicles, gently sucking on them as my hand strokes his shaft.

Running my wet tongue up along the underside of his penis, I look up at him and make eye contact, as I flick my tongue where his shaft meets his glans, before taking him entirely into my mouth and sucking him.

His hands in my hair, shoving my head down to make his penis go deep inside my mouth, hitting my throat, which I open for him. I listening to him groan in ecstasy, as I feel and taste his hot fluid shooting down my throat.

Copyright, 2014, MsT.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.