When Pillow-Talk Manifests into More

An excerpt from It’s Sinfully Delicious Until It Isn’t

Erotic Literary Fiction By Coco Demille

The freak-offs are real, yet most in the lifestyle aren’t coerced with drugs and force, as can be attested by Delaney in this excerpt, When Pillow-Talk Manifests into More, from It’s Sinfully Delicious Until It Isn’t, written by me, Coco Demille.

Mike and Delaney have made their first foray into the unknown, entering a Manhattan swingers' club on a night exclusively for single males. Naive to the lifestyle, this excerpt pinpoints the moment Delaney gives in to her primal urges.

As the book is in the editing phase, I would love any feedback you, the reader, would like to supply. You can email it to cocodemilleauthor@gmail.com or join the wait list, and I will email you for your take on this little bit of erotic literary fiction.

Enjoy!

When Pillow Talk Manifests into More

I feel Mike’s erection return like a hammering force of granite. His hand glides up my leg and caresses my thighs until he reaches the internal heat pulsating from my core, gradually inserting his middle finger, then his pointer, groaning as he senses the warmth contracting his digits.

In this unaccustomed, open setting, I’m uncharacteristically grateful my panties are locked away in my bag since our arrival, along with lingering inhibitions and any last vestige of self. However, as a climax approaches, I cannot help but wonder if the squirt Mike wishes to produce will reach Little Man across the room.

As the force erupts, I sense movement from the loveseat where he is perched, and I shut my eyes as the orgasm drenches my dress and Mike’s legs.

He must be close, I smell musky cologne and feel a surge of heat, as if one of the devil’s minions emerged from one of hell’s lesser portals. Visible in my profile, lurks his minute member, pants around his knees, shirt completely unbuttoned, stroking his minuscule erection.

His appearance is nauseating.

Yet. I salivate for the droplets of semen stemming from his tip.

My gaze refocuses on Mike, who is watching me with desperation in his eyes, pillow-talk manifesting itself into live-action porn, and his eagerness engulfs me.

He nods with approval, as Little Man’s little man approaches my lips in anticipation. Confident little fucker. Without hesitation, he enters my mouth, and I push my head further, forcing it deeper down my throat, giggling to myself as it eases towards the back, unable to reach that gag reflex, which Mike repeatedly hits.

With every pulse of my head, a cacophony of groans surrounds me. My husband unties my halter again and fondles my breasts with both hands, stopping to help push my head further, until I pull away, cleaning his tip with my tongue.

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Hugs and kisses, Coco!