How Do You Want Me?
There are two kinds of men, those that love sex and those that like it. I for one am always taken aback when a man truly does not love sex; it shocks and awes my stereotypical point of view and not in anyway that I like.
September 6, 2010
There are two kinds of men, those that love sex and those that like it. I for one am always taken aback when a man truly does not love sex; it shocks and awes my stereotypical point of view and not in anyway that I like.
Luckily for me the only shocking The Photographer does is in the sexual variety and it always makes me say, “Ahh.”
It had been over a month since I last saw him. Between his travel and my working there had been zero time for our affairs; needless to say we were both aching to get our hands on one another.
The door had buzzed twice while I slid the champagne colored Agent Provocateur thigh high stocking up and over my knee. I stepped into my new Acne black leather pumps and buzzed The Photographer up. I had spent the morning by the pool and planned on spending the afternoon having him explore every inch of my body.
Pushing me against the exposed brick wall of my apartment The Photographer tried to kiss me. I turned my cheek, tilting my head back and parting my lips with a slight grin. He was dying to kiss me and feel the wet of my tongue pushed up against his; I wanted to make him work for it.
His hands held onto the smallest part of my waist in a firm grip, his hips pushed into mine. The Photographer kissed my neck while pulling me even closer towards him. My legs shook with pleasure as he began to work me with his finger tips. Pushing me down onto the bed, he removed his jeans.
He was hard and eager to take all of me... I knew what The Photographer wanted and this time I was going to give it to him.
The Hot Factor
When it comes to threesomes the goal is to find someone hot, but not hotter than you. Let’s just say she was blonde, tall and thin with huge round breasts and a firm ass. Not exactly not hotter than me…
May 25, 2010
When it comes to threesomes the goal is to find someone hot, but not hotter than you. Let’s just say she was blonde, tall and thin with huge round breasts and a firm ass. Not exactly not hotter than me…
We were out drinking, just the girls when the two of us broke away to buy cigarettes. We were laughing as she pulled one out and lit it for me. I smiled, she was my craziest friend; I knew I could ask her anything. “So, remember my photographer friend I was telling you about,” she nodded and inhaled deeply on her smoke. I placed my hand on her arm and smiled, “Would you want to play with us next time he comes to visit?”
She giggled the way she does when she is excited and shook her head yes. Let’s call her Sasha.
The Photographer and I lay in bed. We had both just cum at least 4 times and it was barely noon. I closed my eyes and pictured the way he looked while devouring me. He would bend me over on all fours and take me hard; I would glance over my shoulder to watch. Every-so-often we would lock eyes, I adored being at his mercy.
He was like a child waiting for Christmas morning, “What time is she coming over? Are we there yet?” I couldn’t help but laugh. After what felt like hours of anticipation she knocked on my door. We sat at the kitchen table and I fixed us drinks and then lead her into my dressing room to change.
We stood in the doorway to the kitchen hand in hand and motioned for The Photographer to follow us into the bedroom. We wore matching thigh high fishnet stockings, Agent Provocateur of course. I undid my robe to reveal my signature black lace Agent Provocateur waspie with matching bra and thong; Sasha had on a leather and mesh bodysuit.
The photographer came towards us, grabbing us both by our waists; he kissed my lips then hers. We pushed him onto the bed and knelt over his body. I pulled Sasha towards me and kissed her soft lips. I slid my tongue around hers pulling it through my lips and nibbled on the tip of it. The Photographer rubbed our thighs as we began to put on a show.
He could hardly wait to get us both naked but we had something else in mind first.
Dynamic Duo
Someone once told me that anticipation is the most exciting part of an affair; that each moment leading up to the deviant acts are often the most seductive. I understood what he meant, but after meeting The Editor, I must beg to differ.
April 15, 2010
Someone once told me that anticipation is the most exciting part of an affair; that each moment leading up to the deviant acts are often the most seductive. I understood what he meant, but after meeting The Editor, I must beg to differ.
I stood at his door; my black woven hat and signature Ray Bans kept my identity elusive to his neighbors; you never know who is watching. There was something about the way he looked at me, it was more than I could handle. As we walked up to his apartment he couldn’t help but grab my ass, using his hands to outline my hips and waist, practically kissing my ankles with each step I took. The sexual energy between us was like nothing I have ever experienced. It was like we were made to fuck each other.
He moved his hands over my firm, round breasts. He was getting thick inside his pants and I loved knowing that it was all for me. I reached down and felt him hardening. He moved his lips down my neck, hands sliding down my shoulders and onto my lower back. The way he touched me, looked at me; no one has made me feel sexier.
He threw me down onto the couch and began to trace his fingers over my inner-thighs, while pushing up my skirt to reveal my incredibly sexy lace Agent Provocateur thong. His tongue worked me through the silk lace before he ripped them off. The Editor knew exactly what to do to make me moan, which is what I did when he pushed his tongue deep inside me.
I wanted to taste him so desperately; pushing him away from me I got on me knees. I pulled down his jeans to reveal his amazing erection. Using my tongue I slowly began to pull him into my mouth until he couldn’t stand it anymore. I devoured every inch of him until he was about to lose his mind. He lifted me onto the couch and slid deep inside me, sending shivers throughout my body. The way he felt inside me was like no other.
Pinned underneath him, I was at his mercy and I loved it. Alternating between taking me hard and then slow, he had me past the point of no return. I grabbed his shoulders pressing my nails in deep and begged him to let me get on top.
I teased him, rubbing against him, letting him feel how wet he had me. When I couldn’t take it any longer I pushed down onto him. I took him hard until I couldn’t stop, then I let go completely. The Editor looked so good, felt so good; when he led me to the bedroom for more I could not wait to see what he had in mind.
The Art of The Affair
An affair is a dance. There is a specific way things are done and handled. It provides him with enough security so he will not get caught, while at the same time taking just the right amount of risk to keep things interesting. Or so I had thought.
April 11, 2010
An affair is a dance. There is a specific way things are done and handled. It provides him with enough security so he will not get caught, while at the same time taking just the right amount of risk to keep things interesting. Or so I had thought.
Ralph Lauren Guy lived in D.C. and when we had both returned home from the weekend of festivities we found ourselves desperately wanting more. Dirty texts kept us going but before long there were late night calls. Him, describing how delightful it was to be deep inside me; how crazy I drove him when I worked him with my tongue. Me, fantasizing about him laying me down, sliding his hand up my dress; his lips pressed against mine while I could feel him getting rock hard at the mere thought of being inside me.
It wasn’t long before either of us could take it. Friday, he flew in to the city and like the gentleman he was invited me to dinner. He was truly terrible, as when I arrived for dinner we were not alone. I sat there with him and his friends in a chic Meatpacking District restaurant. He was cocky and I loved it. Very bold to invite the girl you’re sleeping with to dinner with friends. Clearly he liked to show off.
At dinner he did everything I desired. Slid his hands up my skirt, pushed his fingers inside me, making me gasp. I reached over and felt how hard he was. It was every ounce of willpower not to take him right then and there. I ached to wrap my legs around his waist, unzip his jeans and force him inside of me.
His friend sat across the table from me and I could tell he was aching to get involved. He kept looking me up and down; he was most interested. We left dinner and headed to a near by bar. The friend got us in right away, private table, the usual.
When Ralph Lauren Guy seemed distracted The Friend slid his arm around my waist. He leaned in close so his breath was tickling my neck. If I had doubted it before, it was clear; he wanted me. He told me I was beautiful and that he had to have me. I told him I was going home with Ralph Lauren Guy, but he didn’t seem to care. He placed his hand on my firm ass and told me to call him once Ralph Lauren Guy headed home.
After several more glasses of champagne Ralph Lauren Guy and I could barely keep our hands to ourselves. We jumped into a cab and sped up 8th Avenue towards his hotel. The second the elevator doors closed he grabbed me, pulling me in. He kissed me and I could feel him hard against me. We were practically naked by the time the door to his room shut. On my knees, I took him in my mouth and made him cum. He pushed me by my shoulders into the king sized bed. Lifting my leg up as he undid the straps on my bronze Miu Miu shoes. He kissed my ankle, then worked his way up to my inner thighs. My red Agent Provocateur lace panties were completely soaked and I begged him to slide inside me.
We fucked like it was the last time we might ever get to and I came again and again. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I awoke in sheer panic as I had overslept my flight to Paris.
Iron Man
It was fashion week, the opening of a chic little bar in the East Village and I was there meeting a potential work client for the first time. The meeting was fantastic, the drinks were beyond amazing and there was an extremely dashing young man who kept eyeing me from across our group. He was there with the Boss Lady’s friends, but they did not know each other.
Helmut Newton
It was fashion week, the opening of a chic little bar in the East Village and I was there meeting a potential work client for the first time. The meeting was fantastic, the drinks were beyond amazing and there was an extremely dashing young man who kept eyeing me from across our group. He was there with the Boss Lady’s friends, but they did not know each other.
Boss Lady had to leave around midnight, but told me to stay and have fun with the group. As soon as she was out of sight the handsome man came over and took the now empty seat next to me. Let’s call him Iron Man.
Iron Man was impeccably dressed and extremely hansom. I asked where he hailed from and he informed me that where he was from was much too complicated a story for just one drink and that I should join him and his friends dancing.
We left the bar and piled into a giant black SUV. We arrived at Butter around 2AM on a Monday during fashion week and it was as packed as I’d ever seen. As we made our way down the stairs it became clear that not a table was even close to being open.
The manager rushed over to us, apologizing and promising us the world if we could just hold on for 2 minutes. I saw him head over to the back corner booth and within 30 seconds the table was ready for us, complete with bottles of Patron, Belvedere and Veuve. I remember thinking, “Who on earth am I with!?” I would later find out the group was part of Asia’s fashion and social elite.
As we danced the sexual tension became too much to handle. Our lips almost touching, but we kept trying to resist. His hands moving over my ass, squeezing my every curve, his breathe tickling the back of my neck as I pushed into him. He had grown up in London and his English charm would sneak through every now and again. By 4AM the group was getting ready to head to the next spot, I heard something about a strip-club but Iron Man and I were way too into each other to join them.
We hopped into a taxi and sped up-town to his hotel on Central Park South. Anyone that knows me will realizes that it takes a lot for me to go above 14th Street and this guy must have been well worth it. The taxi ride was full of kissing and touching as we began to give into temptation. He paid the driver and escorted me up the hall to the elevators. The concierge greeting us as “Mr. and Mrs. Iron Man” when we entered through the glass doors, I guess he stayed there a lot.
Once in his room he kissed me slowly, with one hand on the back of my neck. He used his other hand to gently flick the straps of my dress off my shoulders, causing it to fall to the floor. I stood there, 6” high-heeled black leather boots, neon green Agent Provocateur lace thong with matching bra, and a shiver ran down my back. I could tell this was just the beginning.
Hong Kong Mash Up
Hong Kong was so much more than I had anticipated. It was a mash-up of all my favorite things; amazing shopping, food, nightlife, beaches, art and of course hot, hot sex.
Hong Kong was so much more than I had anticipated. It was a mash-up of all my favorite things; amazing shopping, food, nightlife, beaches, art and of course hot, hot sex.
London guy met me in the hotel lounge for cocktails and although it had only been 3 days since I had last seen him in Las Vegas it felt like an eternity. I guess that is what a 16-hour flight and loads of sexual anticipation does to a girl.
The city was alive at night and we made the most of every moment. Lavish dinners were followed by chic clubs and bottle after bottle of delicious champagne. We were so hot for each other and could not keep our hands to ourselves. At one club in Lan Kwai Fung we were being so aggressive with one another that we were asked to leave, which is a far more mild retelling of actual events that occurred.
We went swimming at Repulse Bay, soaking up the sun in my orange mesh Agent Provocateur lingerie and secretly touching each other in the water while the other beach goers looked on without a clue. The whole week was an utter fantasy, one we were both making the most of.
Having him throw me onto the soft bed and rip open my giant white robe was almost too much to handle. He was very good at knowing exactly how and where to touch me to drive me absolutely wild and I could read him like a book. We would spend ours pushing each other’s buttons teasing ourselves within inches of our sanity. We would stay up all night, fucking until we passed out from exhaustion, only to wake up and do it all over again. I had finally found someone who was able to keep up with my sexual appetite.
The Blog Formerly Known As 'So I Met This Guy'
We bonded over our love of exotic food, or perhaps it was our love of wild sex. Either way we had way too much fun sneaking around the city ripping each others clothes off. It was such a cliche going to his studio, driving around in his beautiful sports-car. I thought it would all end when I left New York in the Fall, but it didn't.
So I Met This Guy…
One of my first interviews was for an online magazine featuring an extremely talented fashion and art photographer. As we were in different countries at the time of the interview we never met in person. Four months later I moved to New York and invited him for drinks to say thank you and introduce myself. My friend warned me about photographers and I remember telling her, "Don't worry he is 40 and married, I don't think we have anything to worry about".
That statement was the beginning of the end. Let's call him "The Photographer".
We bonded over our love of exotic food, or perhaps it was our love of wild sex. Either way we had way too much fun sneaking around the city ripping each others clothes off. It was such a cliche going to his studio, driving around in his beautiful sports-car. I thought it would all end when I left New York in the Fall, but it didn't.
It became more intense... he'd fly to come see me, say he was going on a "shoot" and then it was a "re-shoot". I would try to break it off, but was so wildly attracted to him and we'd have so much fun I couldn't help myself. Did I mentioned I have a thing for the English? His accent made everything even hotter (and more cliche).
Now, I don't want you to get the wrong impression, this is not a porn site, but it must be said, The Photographer was some of the hottest sex I'd ever had. He was wild, made me insane in all the best ways. His love of thigh-high stockings gave me an Agent Provocateur addiction; one I never managed to break. He had me completely wrapped around his finger and when I invited a friend to join us, I had him wrapped around mine. He was and most likely still is, a complete pervert and the idea of fucking someone half his age was a massive turn on.
I am not one of those dumb girls that thought he would leave his wife for me. That would have been terrible as who could trust a man that was cheating on his wife. I just saw myself as his mistress, the one he wanted to be with physically. It was a turn on knowing he had someone else and would rather be with me.
Then one day everything got totally fucked.