erotica

Wisteria Robe

18202Copyright ©2006 Rain Publishing Inc. From the book: Wisteria Moon, Author: Tilly Rivers

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

ISBN 10: 1-897381-07-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-897381-07-6

Cover Design and layout by
Kara Elsberry

Printed in Canada

CAUTION: Please be advised that Wisteria Moon is an erotica genre.  There is explicit sexual content as well as descriptive scenes and language involving sexual practices as part of the storyline and plot.

Dedication

To the one that is capable of dancing with my mind as well as my body.  The Key.   To lady moon and the mystic sun.  To the realms of beyond and under, over and around, for here is where you will find me.

WISTERIA ROBE

He went to the altar, laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes, calling the Wisteria Witch….

He watched the group of men and women gathered around the stone altar and breathed in the singing air of anticipation of what was to come.

The blanket of night and fog billowed around them like a mystic covering from the outside world.

The mist-formed shapes left impressions of embracing lovers. The ebony sky glimmered with an aura of power and waited for her presence.

The legend of the Wisteria Witch and her robe ceremony was deeply embedded in her homeland.

The tale of the sexual ritual of a witch, a high priestess with profound powers, was whispered among the natives in equal parts of fear and awe.
Few truly witnessed the sacred ceremony.

The ones that did witness kept its secrets.

The whispered chants of her name floated in the air. The goddess they all sought and feared. She was pure, raw sexuality manifested.

The willow and rowan swayed softly in unison with their partner zephyr. Leaf, branch, and wind merged under the moon performing nature’s own sexual rite.

He was uncertain of what to expect within the folds of the wisteria robe ceremony. He only knew that he was meant to be here. He felt the calling; the pull that tonight would alter his life and he welcomed the change.

He stood with pride and confidence under the soft velvet folds of the wisteria robe. The material stimulated your naked flesh; tiny life-like sparks caressed you everywhere at once, molding to your frame, worshipping you.

Naked glimpses of bodies teased the senses everywhere you looked. Hard nipples of women pushed enticingly against the caressing robes. Secret shadows and soft moans were hints of urgent passion flaring.

The hoods of the robes covered the guests’ faces adding to the aura of secrecy and sensual mystery unlike any other.

He was part of the semicircle around the back of the altar, yet felt apart. Tonight he would be the chosen one to touch her. He knew it because he felt the call and waited.

The mist flared higher, changing their frantic pose, colors mixed with the transparent miasma.

She was close. Her presence was felt before her form appeared. Currents of sweetness bred. His body tingled with sensation as the robe altered from light touches to excited petting motions, opening the full breadth and beauty of the sensual.

His body eased with joyful sensation, letting the robe and his surroundings touch him in ecstasy. From his inner core, an inside flame ignited to an overwhelming energy of linked spiritual lust.

Each body became combined to one. A current of pure lust, massage of heat, a force, as desire and passion expanded from the inside to the outside covering of flesh. Power. Raw hunger of each thought, each caress, each sensation of the group now one.

Cardinal desire fused heightened feelings of need until they no longer were a mass but one sensation of savage sexual essence.

Soft blue flickers of breath formed a ring of fire around her ankles. Worshipping, feeding.

Her gown was transparent, violet threads of glimmered nothing, touching her curves like a waterfall of desire. The garment split down the front of her being, drawing your attention to each secret tease of her body.

Her hair flowed loose, tickling the back of her neck and shoulders. The soft blue flames of luminous light flowed as she walked. Each step of pure blue flame floated around her, disappearing only to reappear again as each step glided closer to the altar and the gathered pagans that had come.

This night.
The night of the wisteria robe.
This witch.
The night of the wisteria witch.

No one moved as the ring of blue circled behind his or her body. No one moved, as the flames grew higher, alive. The flame ring crackled with vitality, forming a complete circle around them.

He thought about the flame and that there was no heat.

She turned to him with a tiny wisp of a smile. Her voiceless words echoed softly in his mind. “No heat?”

His body instantly withered with intense desire, need, and cravings of sexual release. “No earthly heat,” he corrected instantly and her smile widened before reducing the erotic torture.

Pausing at the stone altar she slowly slid her fingers under the violet strands of her gown. Instantly, hands of creatures not seen before, were there to remove the garment. He watched the small creatures, her slaves, with fascinated interest.

Small, almost troll-like beings swarmed her. Here, gone instantly. Conjured images.

Hundreds burst into the circle surrounding her naked form, fingers caressing and pulling at her body. She pet them with tenderness as one would a beloved dog or cat.

One was braver, or the leader. He placed his hand on her smooth mound. His finger rammed inside her folds. Her head snapped back. The wind carried the scream of her moan to every watching pagan. The jolt of sensation she was feeling quivered in each of them.

Moans filled the air, echoing her gasps. Her body twisted in shared ecstasy.

He stood transfixed as he watched the creatures touch her. He felt his skin tingle, indents of invisible fingers moved along his burning body. Every touch, every burning caress upon her flesh was transcended onto each of the worshippers.

Standing within the ring of fire he watched as the creatures lifted her reverently unto the altar. She waved her fingers to them and smiled.

Each creature went to the guests, removing the robes. Her commands rolled silently, a melody of desire calling to her pets. She spoke to them as to whom she would be choosing this night.

The chant of “me” rang out. Silent pleads in their minds. Linked thoughts.

“Me. Let the wisteria witch choose me.”

Each had a deep-rooted appetite to be the one. “Me.” The voices grew louder, more urgent and he heard his own voice mingled with the others. “Me,” he begged, “Please me.”

The creature came closer to him and he smiled. Yes. Yes.

The imp looked up and smiled back only to take the hand of the female next to him. A shudder went through the crowd, equal parts disappointment at not being the chosen one mixed with excitement.

They all knew that with each sensation that the wisteria witch felt, they too would feel. Each touch, each soft gasp would vibrate to their very core and burn inside their flesh.

He watched as the eager chosen one ran to the altar to worship the witch lying there. He watched and felt the chosen one’s lips kiss the sole of the witch’s feet, waiting for permission to touch her.

The crowd waited in awe as the witch gave a small nod of her head giving the chosen female permission to continue.

His flesh quivered as the chosen one’s tongue licked up the witch’s calf to her inner thigh and finally to her pulsating wet pussy.

They all tasted her as the chosen one was, like the nectar of heaven.

Bodies around him began to merge, partners, groups, touching. Lying upon the earth, they copied the actions of the chosen one worshipping the witch.

He resisted the need to be one in the group, standing, feeling, and watching the two women on the altar, the goddess and the chosen one feeding from the flesh of the witch.

The creatures joined the withering bodies on the ground, partaking in the offerings, licking the women’s heated pussies, playing with their sensitive breasts, biting nipples from one to the other, taking them to the edge of release only to pause. Sensual torture.

Control broke; men rammed their aching cocks in wet holes of pussy, mouth, and ass. Hands grasped, pulled and pushed.

Harder movements, deep thrusts, release. Cocks being mouth fucked. Couples were on all fours, beasts and beauty fusing to one.

He stood and watched her, felt the sensations of the crowd, of the wisteria witch and nearly screamed with the need to be inside her. The witch lifted her head. “Forward,” she beckoned him. His steps were quick, eager and he too kissed the sole of her feet, waiting for her commands.

“Suck him,” she commanded the female slave. “Suck his hard cock for me.” The chosen one eagerly did the witch’s bidding; placing her lips still coated in her pussy juice over the head of his cock.

His eyes locked with that of the goddess as the slave sucked his cock.

“What do you want?”

“To bury my cock so fucking deep inside your pussy that you scream; to fuck you so hard that we no longer know dark from light, or sin from good. I want to be the beast that feeds and is fed from you until I scream.”

“Let me watch you fuck her. Fuck her like you want to fuck me.”

The chosen one crawled on the altar beside the goddess, lifting her ass in the air for him. Her tongue snaked out to the waiting pussy of the witch. Placing her hands behind her back, arching her body forward, the witch positioned herself so she was capable of watching him slide his cock inside the other and still be able to see the slave lick her pussy.

The crowd moaned and gyrated around them. Pagan slaves in sensual hunger. Feeding, being fed the gifts from the wisteria witch. The creatures lapped up the flesh of the bodies and they moved as one entity upon the earth around the three on the altar above them.

His cock rammed inside the chosen one’s pussy folds. With each thrust he thought of the goddess. Bucking his body harder and deeper into the woman who was moaning under him as she continued to lick and suck the sweet pussy of the witch.

Her tongue jutted in and out of the witch’s wet heat, until the witch placed her hand on the woman’s head and commanded her to move.

The three changed positions, as he knelt in front of her and placed his hands under the witch’s ass. The witch placed her feet on the stone plank on either side of him, lifted her pelvis and met his urgent trust.

So wet. So hot.

Her pussy met his, thrust after urgent thrust. The female slave, licked, caressed and touched each of them as they took from the other until they both screamed into the night under the power of the moon and the blessing of the willow and the rowan trees.

Took until the night blanket became the break of dawn, the blue flames became morning haze. They took until the echo of the wisteria witch’s cry of ecstasy ran over the homeland.

He watched the group of men and women depart. Breathing in the singing air of what they experienced; the ritual of the Wisteria Robe. The secrets buried within.

Once more he went back to the altar. Laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes. Calling the wisteria witch….

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Erotica

a725becfc2b22e31e7ce402968e1a562As most of you know I write erotica; and have been successful. Of course I write other genres as well and have files of poetry; many unpublished,(many published as well) special ones that are just for me-one day I might publish those as well ~insert shrugging shoulders here~ who knows.

I have written fiction, tried a horror tale (didn’t work out so well) and of course I write here in my blog- random thoughts, feelings and ‘life’, but erotica is by far my favourite.

I find it interesting the reactions I get when people discover my writings; everything from compliments to disgust; embarrassment from some of those close to me, some are proud, some are not sure how to react or say things like, “Oh, so you write romance novels?” and I smile, obviously they haven’t read anything I wrote, romance isn’t really the theme- sex is. ~smiles~

In the past I have received hate mail saying that I am promoting fornication; promiscuous behaviour; and have even been called slutty. I remember one note from a woman saying that it is unnatural for ‘real’ women to enjoy sex and to act the way they do in my stories, that it is unrealistic and I should stop characterizing women in such a slutty manner . Poor woman, to think she has never really enjoyed the freedom to enjoy herself in the bedroom…or kitchen….or the living room floor…or…~smiles~ or where ever you lose yourself in the moment of passion and desire.

What is it about women, and some men, that makes them squeamish when it comes to sex? I have known couples that don’t even speak about it- that for years they haven’t told their significant other what they like or don’t like sexually. I get that some ‘fetishes’ might be too much to handle; we all have things that make us uncomfortable, so for the sake of this blog posting I am not talking hard-core crazy sex fetishes here, but passion, what gets your motor running- those touches that drive you crazy. Why oh why can’t we say to our partners- when you do this- or when you say this- it makes me hot!?

My writings are sexual- passionate- naughty. I get they aren’t for everybody. But I have a hard time grasping that ‘real women’ are so suppressed that reading about oral sex and a good romp puts them in a tither.

An erotic tease, short story by Tilly

Welcome Home, Tilly Rivers

Welcome Home

As she turned her key in the front door, she sighed. It had been a long tour and she was so tired!  The front door swung open and she slid out of her pumps in the small entryway, tossing her bags and jacket carelessly onto the floor.

She stepped around the corner into the living room, surprised to see the burning candles scattered throughout the room.

A small smile lit her face as she continued on to the dining area; the table that had been covered with paperwork the morning she had left was cleaned and set for two, again with scented candles flickering.

She peeked into the kitchen and there he stood, wearing torn faded jeans and a cream-colored sweater, at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious.  “Mmmm, this is a surprise.  What is it all about?”

He turned to her and wrapped his strong arms around her frame, enfolding her into a warm embrace.  His voice tickled against her ear as he whispered, “All of this is because I missed you more than anything and I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

His lips moved over hers and kissed her, slow and deep, with a passion that emphasized his words, echoing within her cavity how much he had missed her; missed them.

Her body instantly responded and she pressed herself closer.  His subdued groan vibrated against her softness and warmth while his cock hardened almost immediately.

They had both been apart too long.  At times he thought of her as a mystical ghost, here for only brief moments before gone again.

Stroking her back in firm long caresses, gently kneading her shoulders down to the small of her back only to return up the same path of sensuality he was creating with his eager touches.

She let her hands smooth over the sleek muscles of his back, savoring the potency that exuded between them.  She had missed this so much!  It felt like forever had passed since they had actually spent any time together.  Her eyes closed and she returned his impatient kisses with ones of her own.

All too soon he gently pulled away, brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face.  “I made chicken and salad.  Let’s enjoy the meal so we can then enjoy each other.”

She didn’t care about the food he was offering.  Her appetite was for his naked flesh upon hers; to feel his hard cock once more rubbing against her thigh, her pelvis, strong evidence of how much he had missed her.

Yet he went to so much trouble.  She smiled, placing her desires on hold.  Closing her eyes she sent up a mental wish for the food to be consumed quickly so she could feed her true hunger.

They sat down together and ate their dinner talking about all of the things that they had fallen behind on with each other.  Each phrase, each syllable was marked with tiny touches, knowing glances, waiting for the true quest to start.

Her lust pounded in her ears all but drowning out everything except the ache to be touched.  She watched his intense eyes as he spoke, remembering…..

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Note: Sorry folks, can’t add the rest as it is pretty XXX rated, and not allowed for such a public forum. This story is one of many in “Wisteria Moon” by me- and I hope you loved reading  the book as much as I did writing it. What?…you don’t have a copy? Hmmm…maybe you can still get one online at Amazon.com- not sure, or maybe a friend?

~smiles~ love & hugs my friends.

XOXO

The Tease….

Your Eyes Only

Written by Tilly Rivers

© Copyright 2010. Tilly Rivers.

 

 by Tilly Rivers

Your Eyes Only

She is definitely not a ‘proper’ girl. A fact soon verified when she leaned slightly forward into a beam of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light silhouetted her body through her sun dress, turning it nearly transparent. No not proper at all, but he knew that going in, she was there to interview him for her magazine, but he knew she was there for her own…what had she called it…distraction.

 

She wasn’t wearing any panties.  He smiled, she was wearing a pair of sexy socks; the kind that ended at her knees–you know- sexy; with the promise of naughty things to come. She clicked off the digital recorder. “That about wraps it up, unless you have anything to add?” her voice was soft, light and he wondered what it would sound like when she moaned in pleasure.

As if she had read his thoughts her nipples stood erect behind the thin covering of her dress.  “The interview is over than?”

“Yes” she agreed, barely above a whisper. Her eyes turned darker, “Very professional don’t you think?”

She stood up then, and he jumped up as well. ‘Was she leaving?’ he thought…hell he had thought that this was more then an interview…shit he cursed, he must have read the signs wrong. He extended his hand in the customary farewell handshake.

She looked at his outstretched hand. Eyes intense, sure, instead of placing her hand in his, she slid around his hand and stood close.  “That’s it then” she said, “Time to say good bye?” Locking her eyes on his face her hands moved  slowly up his upper arms and shoulders, resting there lightly.

“I’m more of a hugger” she murmured in reference to the earlier offered handshake.

Her breath was warm on his neck, and he sighed in pain as she drew back slightly, wanting the contact. His arm came around her and she kissed the side of his neck. She let him pull her in and the sigh turned to a moan.

He felt the intake of her breath, the fast pace of her heart beating against him, those erect nipples now resting against his chest, the heat of their combined bodies almost burning.

Her hand slipped down between them…slowly… until it reached his hardness, wanting the evidence of his arousal pressed firmly into her hand. “So” she whispered, “can I distract you now?”   She did not wait for his answer, instead her lips kissed his neck again, no- kiss was not the action, she was…tasting him… one of her hands pressed against the fly of his jeans, while the other lead his fingers up her body- slowly letting him touch every inch up- up until he lightly cupped the underside of your right breast……

~~~~~~~~~~

OH NO… sorry, the rest of this story is pretty XXX rated…and well…, not allowed…~giggles~ but I do so hope you enjoyed the tease….

Ta Ta…

Oh wait? You want more? *taps finger against lips in thought* hmmmm…maybe we can…no that won’t work ~smiles~

 

 

 

The things I love 5

ENTRY 5 –THE THINGS I LOVE BY ME–TILLY RIVERS–

I love…..

 

Fantasy Creation

 

…Creating magic with words, projecting others into my fantasies

CAUTION: once you enter my world of fantasy…you may not wish to return to reality. ~Tilly Rivers~

I love to write. It is right up there with sex-and to write about sex- to create fantasies of desire…nothing better in the world.

Here I unleash the cravings within. So often I am asked if my writings are fictional or fact.- I smile and say:  “Every good writer knows, research makes all the difference!”

 

 

 

 

 

The Things I Love, Entry #2

The things I love By Tilly Rivers

Entry 2

I love…

…new tastes on my tongue, new fragrances to smell

 

Good morning World. Tilly Rivers

 

 

Lilac and lavender are among my favorite smells, but I have so many. I love the smells in a spice store, or in a body shop, the smells of soap, and I especially the love the smell of a man. I love the smell of sex, and food cooking. Sweet, savory and everything in between. – it stimulates me, reminds me that life is full of wonder.

I am not a cook, but I do so enjoy food.  I truly believe it is my passion for art, food and the entertainment world, the life of being creative, that makes me great at what i do- from writing food reviews, to MSM.

New taste experiences, are so much fun. Of course now that I am Celiac, and a vegetation, I will admit i miss out on some of the world’s most delicious cuisine tests, but still, food is such a delight. I am a texture person, but in a good way, I enjoy texture. I am as I said before all about the senses, to smell, to touch, to taste, to see, to hear…and of course that sixth sense, to be aware.

Stimulation. Truly the ultimate of life’s wonders!