Less Talk, More Action
Men, and seemingly some boys, seem to love to talk a big game when it comes to being kinky; I have found many a man who thinks he is sexually adventurous. The problem lays that even when they break out the toys, seldom do they really know what to do with them. Tricks are not for kids and Media Guy was most definitely a child.
Steven Klein
August 10, 2010
Men, and seemingly some boys, seem to love to talk a big game when it comes to being kinky; I have found many a man who thinks he is sexually adventurous. The problem lays that even when they break out the toys, seldom do they really know what to do with them. Tricks are not for kids and Media Guy was most definitely a child.
I climbed the narrow, steep stairs up to the second floor loft in Chelsea. Media Guy had not lied; his apartment was vast. I sat perched on the edge of a bar stool in the kitchen, taking a long drag of my cigarette. He was expertly mixing a vodka martini and I told him to make it dirty.
He was handsome and my cocktail was delicious but I was getting tired of the chitchat and polite niceties. I was there for one reason and one reason only. I wanted to play.
Walking across the room I let the silk straps of my dress fall down my tanned shoulders. The sound of my heels against the floor as I entered his bedroom were like the hand of a clock counting down the minutes. Media Guy followed me, like a child hanging on my every move.
He placed his hand on the back of my neck and kissed my shoulders. I grabbed his wrist and threw him onto the bed. “Now, where are those hand cuffs you mention?”
Media Guy reached into a drawer and pulled out some pathetic contraption that resembled what one would buy as a gag gift, if one were that kind of person. “Right,” I gawked at the ‘cuffs’.
Bored and slightly disappointed, I crawled onto the bed; I just wanted to be fucked. He slid his hands up my skirt and over my thighs. He pulled off my dress and devoured my body. Media Guy needed to be put in his place. I straddled him and took him hard until he was about to lose his mind. Just as he was about to go over the edge I’d stop, letting out a slight laugh.
I let myself cum while still on top and then rolled over onto my back, slightly breathless. He looked pleased even though I had done most of the work. I could tell he was waiting to get his, especially after the torturous teasing.
Feeling quite ‘letdown’ from all his talk and the very little action I decided to call it a night. I slid back into my dress, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It was a pleasure darling,” I whispered in his and then headed for the door.
The look of shock/disappointment was beyond comical. I hailed a taxi and laughed to myself. Will not be doing that again anytime soon! Any man that pulls out handcuffs like those is most definitely not the man for me.
Boys Beware
The incredible Diane Pernet invited me to contribute to her site, A Shaded View On Fashion Fiction. Although this story is more fact than fiction, it was included none the less.
The incredible Diane Pernet invited me to contribute to her site, A Shaded View On Fashion Fiction. Although this story is more fact than fiction, it was included none the less.
June 8, 2010
There is no such thing as a total wash. Even the most obviously pathetic night can take a sudden turn for the best if you have the right attitude. Luckily, attitude is something I’m never short on.
It’s a general rule of mine to steer clear of little boys. But every now and then, someone catches my fancy and I get blindsided. I met Hot 20-Something Guy poolside at Soho House. It must have been his tortoise-shell Persol sunglasses that made me give him my number so willingly. After a week of his cryptic Hot 20-Something Guy texts, he finally figured out how to properly invite me for a drink.
Soho House was packed. As the elevator door slid open, the heat and the music hit me hard. I made my way through the throng of beautiful people out onto the roof deck, where Hot 20-Something Guy was waiting. We stood near the edge of the pool, the Manhattan skyline glistening in the background. Hot 20-Something Guy was getting less hot by the second; making small talk, taking long sips of his drink without offering to buy me one.
Taking the evening into my own hands, I headed for the bar. As I passed through the thickening crowd, I bumped into my former boss – the CEO of a prominent high fashion label. Immaculately dressed in his signature dark denim, white button-down and blazer, he kissed my cheek (proper Brit that he was) and insisted on buying my drink.
I returned to find Hot 20-Something Guy surrounded by a group of friends. After making cursory introductions, he charmingly announced that he was going in search of beer. I chatted up his very unstylish girlfriends (apparently some people still wear giant hoop earrings in earnest) in between deep drags on my Marlboro Light. A camera flashed as someone snapped my photo; I could not believe I’d donned my vintage Chanel navy matte sequined dress for this.
Just as I was about to call it a night, another attractive 20-something guy approached. A friend of Hot 20-Something Guy, this specimen was actually far cuter. Let’s call him Media Guy.
We sat on the plush couches and I couldn’t help but notice our knees gently touching as we talked. Hot 20-Something Guy was nowhere in sight – much to my relief. I placed my hand on Media Guy’s thigh while smiling and gently biting my lower lip. The conversation turned heated; I could tell he was aching to get me home, aching to slide the silk straps of my dress off my shoulders. He invited me back to his place for a nightcap; I couldn’t wait to see what he had in mind.