Singing In The Rain
All good things must come to an end; and like all big storms, this one started with just one raindrop.
December 6, 2010
All good things must come to an end; and like all big storms, this one started with just one raindrop.
In a moment of weakness I texted The Britt; was his interest in me purely physical or did he wanted more? He’d been sending rather mixed messages for 3 weeks now; never one to play games, I needed to know where we stood. In his ever-evasive English way, rather than answer me, he called and we chatted about everything other than sex. I guess that means he wants more…?
Arriving in Miami was a breath of fresh air. Although I was there for work, it was still a relief from the stress of the past few months of New York grinding. Very unexpectedly The Ex emailed me advising he would be in New York ‘very, very soon’. Lovely, of course I had just left.
Fortunately or unfortunately (no one really knows) I would be returning to the city the same day The Ex was to arrive. Through our classic witty banter I learn he is no longer with his girlfriend… and through chatting with my ever-gossiping Mum, discover he has informed his mother that he is coming to New York is to visit me. Okay…?
Miami had me running from party-to-art show and back again. We’d had no communication but was not lost on me that The Artist must be there somewhere, which is exactly when I received his text. Later that night we crossed paths at The Interview Mag party at The Delano. He looked unbelievably hot and I was dying to get my hands on him. After indulging in a performance by my hero and ground breaking performance artist, Marina Abramovic, where she swam naked in their famous pool I was flying high on the energy from the room.
Apparently he felt the same because at 2AM with ditched our friends for wild sex in his penthouse apartment along the Miami Beach waterfront. The Artist was just as rough as I remembered and even more hungry. His hands and teeth left more than his usual mark, making for slightly awkward poolside tanning the following day. My nipples were seriously bruised and I wasn’t exactly sure how I would explain that to The Britt, should he ever call me again.
Just when I thought that nothing else could possibly arise, I received an email that was long overdue. The Photographer; the first man I’d been with after The Ex and my first ‘friend’ in New York. We’d been through so much, yet nothing at all over the past 2 ½ years. To be honest, I never thought things would have carried on this far.
It was strange to find myself happy reading his thoughtfully crafted note. He may have been more surprised by my response than I was. “I am so proud of you,” pushing the buttons on my blackberry I told him I would always be there for him as his friend.
Since the moment we met I knew he was lost; finally he'd caught up to speed and wanted to do something about it. I only want the best for him, so of course, even though salty tears rolled down my cheeks, I was happy for him. My tears were selfish; I knew we would never really be friends and it broke a tiny piece of my heart to lose him.
Back to The Delano for my last Miami dinner, The Britt called my mobile. Caught off guard and completely surprised, I answered. I think this really could be something after all.
They say there is a calm before the storm; perhaps I was just too busy with the pace of the city to have noticed it.
Can’t Get Enough?
Sexual Compulsives Anonymous (SCA) has devised a master list of 20, yes or no, questions to see if you are sexually compulsive (A.K.A a sex addict). I found myself saying, 'Yes' to numbers 4 & 5... Let's see how sexually addicted you are.
According to the SCA, answering, 'Yes' to 3 or more questions means they might just need to tie you up; but let's be honest, who doesn't like being tied up every now and again?
Richard Prince
November 12, 2010
Sexual Compulsives Anonymous (SCA) has devised a master list of 20, yes or no, questions to see if you are sexually compulsive (A.K.A a sex addict). I found myself saying, 'Yes' to numbers 4 & 5... Let's see how sexually addicted you are.
According to the SCA, answering, 'Yes' to 3 or more questions means they might just need to tie you up; but let's be honest, who doesn't like being tied up every now and again?
The Twenty Questions
Do you frequently experience remorse, depression, or guilt about your sexual activity?
Do you feel your sexual drive and activity is getting out of control? Have you repeatedly tried to stop or reduce certain sexual behaviors, but inevitably you could not?
Are you unable to resist sexual advances, or turn down sexual propositions when offered?
Do you use sex to escape from uncomfortable feelings such as anxiety, fear, anger, resentment, guilt, etc. which seem to disappear when the sexual obsession starts?
Do you spend excessive time obsessing about sex or engaged in sexual activity?
Have you neglected your family, friends, spouse or relationship because of the time you spend in sexual activity?
Do your sexual pursuits interfere with your work or professional development?
Is your sexual life secretive, a source of shame, and not in keeping with your values? Do you lie to others to cover up your sexual activity?
Are you afraid of sex? Do you avoid romantic and sexual relationships with others and restrict your sexual activity to fantasy, masturbation, and solitary or anonymous activity?
Are you increasingly unable to perform sexually without other stimuli such as pornography, videos, "poppers," drugs/alcohol, "toys," etc.?
Do you have to resort increasingly to abusive, humiliating, or painful sexual fantasies or behaviors to get sexually aroused?
Has your sexual activity prevented you from developing a close, loving relationship with a partner? Or, have you developed a pattern of intense romantic or sexual relationships that never seem to last once the excitement wears off?
Do you only have anonymous sex or one-night stands? Do you usually want to get away from your sexual partner after the encounter?
Do you have sex with people with whom you normally would not associate?
Do you frequent clubs, bars, adult bookstores, restrooms, parks and other public places in search of sexual partners?
Have you ever been arrested or placed yourself in legal jeopardy for your sexual activity?
Have you ever risked your physical health with exposure to sexually transmitted diseases by engaging in "unsafe" sexual activity?
Has the money you spent on pornography, videos, phone sex, or hustlers/prostitutes strained your financial resources?
Have people you trust expressed concern about your sexual activity?
Does life seem meaningless and hopeless without a romantic or sexual relationship?
Take Things As They Come
When a man calls your phone at 1:30AM, after more than a year sans communication, you know he is only interested in one thing. And seeing as we'd never had sex, I found myself taken aback when he began whispering dirty sentiments through the phone.
Nan Goldin
November 8, 2010
When a man calls your phone at 1:30AM, after more than a year sans communication, you know he is only interested in one thing. And seeing as we'd never had sex, I found myself taken aback when he began whispering dirty sentiments through the phone.
The following morning, in what was starting to feel like clockwork, the phone flashed his name across the screen. The Brit was not giving up easily. The words rolled off his tongue sending shivers throughout my body, making me ache to be touched, kissed and pulled apart.
"Rather than tell me what you want to do to me, why don't I hop into a taxi and you can just do it?" As fun as it was to hear about how hot I made him, I didn't want to talk; I wanted action.
The door to his Tribeca penthouse loft swung open; his lips immediately pressed against mine. His hands skimmed the sides of my waist and hips. Grabbing tightly, he threw me up against the wall and kissed my neck and shoulders.
The Brit grabbed my ass and lifted me up so my legs wrapped around his waist then carried me to bed. After what felt like 12 hours of anticipation, he made me come once; then again, and again once more.
Not exactly what I had anticipated doing all Saturday afternoon; but hey, sometimes you just have to roll with it.
Guest Blogger: Sophie
"As most of you know, I'm not the only woman who likes sex the way I do. If you are a women reading this right now, you probably relate to my stories and adventures in one way or another. Every now and again I'll be turning over the reins to a guest blogger. Meet Sophie."
October 15, 2010
"As most of you know, I'm not the only woman who likes sex the way I do. If you are a women reading this right now, you probably relate to my stories and adventures in one way or another. Every now and again I'll be turning over the reins to a guest blogger. Meet Sophie."
- Chloe Is My Alias
State of Affairs
Edited by: Chloe Is My Alias
I hadn’t seen him in more than ten years. He was my college sweetheart; the one that ‘got away’. After weeks of intense emails and calls, the anticipation of finally meeting was killing us both.
His initials? CPG.
I was 5 minutes from the midtown lunch spot he had selected to meet when I got his text, “where are you”? It was flattering to know he was as anxious to see me, as I was to see him.
Sliding my coat off my shoulders to reveal my favorite low cut black wrap dress; I handed it to the hostess and glanced over to the bar to see him watching my every move. Nothing had changed, butterflies in my stomach, knees weak, just like the first time we had met. CPG got up from the bar and came over, kissing my cheek as he whispered in my ear “Damn, you haven’t changed a bit”.
We were escorted to a corner booth and the server brought over a glass of my favorite Shiraz, he had remembered after all these years and I was instantly smitten all over again. We felt like teenagers, trying to catch up on our lives and conveniently skimming the obvious topics of his wife and children. CGP looked amazing; my whole body started to shake when he ran his hand up my thigh and under my dress. I couldn’t help but think, “this is what corner booths were made for”.
We left the restaurant and he slid his hand around my waist pulling me in for one of those kisses that instantly make you wet. I nibbled on his ear and told him to bring me to the hotel around the corner; that was all it took.
The elevator ride to the room was a blur; we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. We entered the room and I pinned him up against the wall, unbuttoning his shirt, running my hands all over his chest and I working my way down until I was on my knees. CPG pulled my hair back watching me lick him. He was the only man that knew how to get me off and I was full of anticipation, knowing full well it would be an afternoon of pure pleasure.
Desired Distraction
My heart sunk deep into my chest; the pain he must have felt to turn to something like heroin, I can empathize. What has me so shaken is quite simple and scares me more than anything. This can happen to anyone and no one saw it coming.
Barbara Kruger
October 13, 2010
Terrible news has a way of creeping up on you. When I called to catch up with a friend she had news and not the kind I was expecting. Our friend is a heroin addict. He is 20.
My heart sunk deep into my chest; the pain he must have felt to turn to something like heroin, I can empathize. What has me so shaken is quite simple and scares me more than anything. This can happen to anyone and no one saw it coming.
There is a pain so deep you’d do anything to end. Lying on the ground, sobbing, you barely make a sound. You want to feel safe; you want it all to just be okay. Helplessness washes over you, making you feel weak and alone, which in turn makes you feel scared.
Worse than the pain is the inability to end it, make it stop. Progressively getting worse, you get to a point where you feel crippled by life, as life itself causes the pain.
So many nights and days were spent dealing with pain. So many pills popped, joints smoked and knives lacerating through layers of flesh in hopes of finding a distraction. It’s not that I ever wanted to die; I was just too tired to keep living.
I first fell in love with sex when I realized it was the only time I wasn’t in pain. Closing my eyes and letting waves of pleasure rush over me, sex was and still is like meditation. In that moment everything bad falls to the side, nothing matters except the physical pleasure.
For me sex is an escape. It requires no thought and has no meaning when it’s done and over. People seem to think there is deeper meaning to the pleasure derived through sex; as a society we are consumed with finding deeper meanings and refuse to just let things be.
No longer in pain, I still see sex as just that, sex. The world is constantly shown in a picture perfect way, a set of ideals that my life is unable to live up to. The ideals others push onto society; inadequacy seeping through and everyday trying to keep up with what ‘they’ say is right.
We live in a world that promotes compliance, not questions. Ignorance really is bliss, but I was never one to be ignorant. Once you open yourself up to understanding, you can never go back.
Sex is still an escape and distraction from the world. That pain that overwhelmed me on so many occasions is gone. I no longer worry about fitting the cookie-cutter mold that is our society’s expectations. I can only hope my friend can find strength to look beyond what people tell us to see and figure out what everything means for him.
Business With Pleasure
We sat across from each other on the back patio at The Bowery Hotel discussing business; he was the key piece to getting this charity project to the next level and I wasn’t taking no for an answer. Let's call him The Business Man.
September 22, 2010
Every so often you’ll meet someone and there is this unspoken understanding that you both want each other; nothing is going to come between you and ripping your clothes off.
We sat across from each other on the back patio at The Bowery Hotel discussing business; he was the key piece to getting this charity project to the next level and I wasn’t taking no for an answer. Let's call him The Business Man.
There was something about the way he looked at me when I spoke that turned me on like crazy; it make me want to lean across the table, slide my hands up his thighs and kiss him. It took every ounce of will power not to slide my tongue through his lips, grazing my teeth over his tongue; kissing him so deeply.
I was aching to feel his hands pulling me closer, touching my hair, my legs and my waist. His hands looked amazing; I wanted them all over me, I wanted his fingers pushing inside me. I wanted him to bring me over the edge right then and there.
His voice snapped me back to reality, he was agreeing to take on the project. We clinked our glasses and I took an extra long sip, eyeing him over the top of my flute. I couldn’t help myself; I had to have him.
“Now that we have the business out of the way, would it be terrible if I kissed you right now?” The Business Man grinned and motioned me to come closer.
I couldn’t wait see if his kiss was as delicious as I had imagined and if his hands were as good.
All In Favour?
There are two types of extramarital adventures; ones that are about sex and ones are more like affairs. The difference? Sex.
July 8, 2010
There are two types of extramarital adventures; ones that are about sex and ones are more like affairs. The difference? Sex.
Monogamy has been the unintentional subject of most of my conversations lately; these conversations have taken place with women and surprisingly they do not seem to be in favor of it.
What has changed to make it acceptable for women to be open about not wanting to be with one man? Are women truly open, or is it something they disclose only in secret to their close and trusted friends?
If women and men both secretly crave physical and sexual encounters outside their committed relationship, why does society still look down on it; why are we shaming these people who know what they want and are not afraid to go get it?
The Photographer and I have quite the ideal situation. When I first began to see him my friends would ask, “don’t you feel bad for his wife?” My response was clear. No, I do not feel badly for her. If The Photographer actually ‘liked’ me he would call me to chat, he would want to go for dinner; he would want to go away with me. He doesn’t, he just wants to have sex.
Well, okay. Not JUST sex, amazing sex; mind-blowing sex. The kind the makes your toes curl, gets you instantly turned on, tingling, aching for more. For me, The Photographer is NOT cheating on his wife; he is NOT having an affair. He is just having sex and that does not make him a bad person. He is careful (minus those steamy videos he cannot bring himself to delete) that The Wife will never know.
There is something about the camera that gets me turned on. Maybe it takes me back to the days before I moved back to New York where we would both lay in bed naked, on I Chat and watch each other get off. I loved knowing that he would watch them later and get off on us. I loved watching them later myself.
The Photographer won’t get caught because he doesn’t want to. The Editor on the other hand, now that is a different story…
All In The Neighborhood
Some women look for love. I on the other hand look for one thing and one thing only; Sex.
June 22, 2010
Some women look for love. I on the other hand look for one thing and one thing only; Sex.
In one of my many apartments over the years I had an adorable sports media guy who lived above me. Although he was less than my type I enquired if he had any male friends who might be. As I had recently ended a fairly long-term gig I was really only interested in fun. My neighbor blushed, laughing uncomfortably. My direct approach had clearly stunned him. Once he regained composure he looked at me straight on, “I have just the guy.” Let’s call him The Firefighter.
I tied the knot of my black, short robe and slid into my favorite sky high black Louboutin’s. The top of my thigh-high Kiki de Montparnasse stockings ended right below where my robe began. I loved the way my long hair swept across my face and fell down across my breasts. As usual I looked smoking hot and I was beginning to turn myself on.
Behind the front door of my apartment stood The Firefighter, a bottle of wine in hand. He was hot; hair buzzed short, raw denim Levi’s rolled to show the salvage edge. I was impressed, having little to no expectations when it came to style and firefighters. We stood in the doorway eyeing each other up and down. He smiled like a kid on Christmas, “Wow… your neighbor wasn’t lying!” Leaning towards him I grabbed his neck and pulled him in, kissing him deeply. He slid a hand around my waist while he closed the door. The Firefighter sat in one of my club chairs and I straddled him. As I ran my lips and tongue up his neck towards his ear I could feel him getting thick. His hands were running over my shoulders; he was aching to find out what was under my robe. The way his eyes traced over my entire body beginning with my shoes, up my legs and over my breasts, was incredibly sexy. He wanted to devour me and I wanted to let him.
The Dark Side
I want a partner in crime. I don’t have the same ideals that other people do. I am not blind to the fact that passions fade, that this man may not want to bed only me for the rest of his life. I am also quite aware that I may not want to sleep with just him.
Helmut Newton 1973
June 8, 2010
I have never really wanted children. I don’t like most children; or rather I don’t like how most adults parent their children. I have never really wanted to get married. What marriage stands for today a far cry from the ideals people seem to desire when they embark upon it.
What I do want is someone who is my equal. I want a man who will push me to be the best I can and who will let me push them back. I want a partner in crime. I don’t have the same ideals that other people do. I am not blind to the fact that passions fade, that this man may not want to bed only me for the rest of his life. I am also quite aware that I may not want to sleep with just him.
I was in love once, but not really. It would be more accurate to say that I wanted to be in love; I wanted a boyfriend. At the time I genuinely believed I was in love and thought I would spend the rest of my life with him, marry him and have a child with him. Hindsight is a delightful thing.
Right now I feel frustrated. I am angry. As unfortunate as this is going to sound it is true; women are master manipulators. If I wanted to I could make any man fall in love with me, just a game I used to play when I became bored.
It was the same thing with the above noted love. I was in love with him because I wanted to be in love and he was in love with me because I wanted him to be.
Only one man has ever really been in love with me, my true self. I was not in love with him. It was something else, something bigger than that.
We would lay in my bed, naked. I adored the way his skin felt next to mine; our arms gently resting next to one another. The way he looked at me. He knew everything about me, about Chloe too. He didn’t care, not for one second. He would kiss me so softly and slowly and tell me he loved me. I would run my fingers through his long hair and rest my head on his naked chest. I would trace the outline of his tattoos with the tip of my finger.
We would talk and pleasure each other for hours. My bed, his bed, the park; it did not matter where we were. It was like no feeling I have ever had with someone. I felt like we had the oldest souls and from the moment we met we understood everything about the other.
Why am I going on about this? Because it’s gone, he’s gone. Its over before it even really started. It is for the best. I do not think he was in love with me, even though he told me countless times he was. In truth it was something beyond love and neither of us could fully describe it; the irony of which is painful as we are both writers.
I am not worried about finding someone who will love me, that is an easy feat. But rather, I am terrified that no man can ever understand me the way he did. The way he did with out me having to say a single word.
This feeling is crippling. I am numbing the pain with mindless 'fucks' and nothing seems to work. I don't want him back, I just want that feeling. That beautiful feeling of being understood. That nonjudgmental, unsympathetic understanding we had of each other.
As I write this hot tears are streaming down my cold cheeks. I just want to be understood.
The Next Fix
It’s not necessarily that the grass looks greener; it’s just that you want to know what it feels like under your feet. Who dictates right and wrong in a relationship? Who sets the standard for what is acceptable and what can sustain a relationship over time?
June 1, 2010
It’s not necessarily that the grass looks greener; it’s just that you want to know what it feels like under your feet. Who dictates right and wrong in a relationship? Who sets the standard for what is acceptable and what can sustain a relationship over time?
We live in a world of quick fixes and instant gratification. How does the old model of marriage and relationships fit into this modern world? I have grown up in a generation of people that want it all and want it all right now. Why are the relationship expectations of the general public today still very close to what they were some 80 years ago?
I don’t think it makes you a bad person for wanting sex and wanting sex with more than one person for the rest of your married (committed) life; wanting a new thrill every now and then.
There is nothing like the rush of a fling, whether you are married or single. The urgency one feels when your lips finally touch after aching to feel each other. The way his hands slide up your legs; your nails dig into his shoulder as you push your hips against him. It is pure desire, full of silent temptations.
Who says you cannot truly love and care for someone while desiring another physically? There is nothing like the sexual rush of being with someone your entire body craves, so why must we choose between love and lust? I do believe that what you don’t know cannot hurt you.
Maybe I am being idealistic... After all I grew up in a generation that wants it all. And preferably right now.
In Your Dreams
I have a very difficult time rising in the AM. I am a serial snoozer and truth be told there is one reason and one reason only. I can’t wait to get back to my dreams. As active and amazing as my real-life sexual encounters are, nothing compares to what happens when I am deep in my dreams.
May 18, 2010
People often ask why I never write about BAD sex. Truth be told I have only had bad sex twice and both times were in high school. Rather than attempt to recall such distant memories (perhaps I blocked them?) follow me into dreamland where everyone is gorgeous and the sex is wild.
I have a very difficult time rising in the AM. I am a serial snoozer and truth be told there is one reason and one reason only. I can’t wait to get back to my dreams. As active and amazing as my real-life sexual encounters are, nothing compares to what happens when I am deep in my dreams.
Lying there, it’s as though I am conscious of my dream state, yet I long for it to never end. I find myself surrounded by gorgeous men and women. The rooms are lush and everyone is touching each other as they pass by, not sexually but rather sensually. A woman puts her hands on my shoulders pulling me towards her and kisses my lips; a man massages her neck while we kiss. In my dreams they are people I know, but they do not look like their real life namesakes.
We get lost in each other; the man reaches down and starts rubbing me, getting me so turned on. My entire body is aware of it, I consciously beg him to keep going while I can almost taste the beautiful girl’s lips.
My snooze goes off and I roll over and reset the alarm for another 20 minutes of bliss. I can feel myself aching for my dream lovers and their touch. Eyes closed I drift back to where I left off, about to let go completely.
Everyone in the room is sexualized. They are half naked and just the sight of them is enough to put me over the edge. More people are rubbing me now, all over my body; stroking my soft legs, sucking on my fingers. One man is licking my breasts while the other has his fingers inside me. It’s all so slow and I am aching for them to keep going.
The alarm goes again. I groan and set it for 10 more minutes, sexually frustrated and aching to cum I close my eyes. I am still in my dream, I am with one man; one of my many men I write about. He is staring at me; walking towards me he takes my hand putting my fingers in his mouth. With his other hand he forces me to let go completely.
I lay there face down in bed; my breath heavy. Even though I am still in my dreamland I am conscious enough to know my alarm is about to go off. I roll over and check my mobile, 1 more minute. I turn onto my back, starring up at the white ceiling; I let my eyes close, recalling the details of the dream as the alarm goes...
Come Quickly
There is something so sexual about getting it on in places other than the bedroom. The urgency of not quite making it upstairs gets me very excited; considering I was 2-hours late to meet The Artist it was amazing that we made it through the front door.
May 10, 2010
There is something so sexual about getting it on in places other than the bedroom. The urgency of not quite making it upstairs gets me very excited; considering I was 2-hours late to meet The Artist it was amazing that we made it through the front door.
I threw my purse down on the couch as he pulled me into the kitchen. The Artist wanted me NOW; he pushed me up against the table sending papers and dishes flying onto the floor. His hands ran up and down my body taking in every inch. He bit my neck and pulled my dress down off my shoulders to reveal my breasts. He kissed them and squeezed my nipples hard.
It was such a turn on seeing how much he loved my body, how sexually aggressive he became by my naked flesh. He was hard and full and I was aching to feel all of him. The artist pulled me off the table turning me around and pushing my upper body face down against the soft wood. He lifted my skirt, loving that I was not wearing anything underneath and devoured my ass with his eyes and his tongue; his hands running over my every curve before pushing himself inside me.
He used me to make himself cum; I loved being his toy. Out of breath we stood silent, my dress around my waist my heels still on. I took his hand and threw him down onto the couch in the next room. He was still hard and I wanted more.
The Artist grabbed my neck squeezing tightly until it became hard to breathe. He lowered me down onto him and let me fuck him, controlling my every move with his hand around my throat. I moved so slowly feeling every sensation fully until I could no longer take it and I had to let go. As I came he spanked me hard, my flesh stinging slightly.
I collapsed forward onto his shoulder and let my teeth graze his neck along with the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever make it to his bedroom.
The Artist spanked my ass gently. “What was that for?” I asked. He laughed and told me next time not to be late. If he had only known where I had been…
Old School
Before all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Before I understood that love wasn’t real. I had a boyfriend. A stereotypical high school nightmare, him the Football Guy and me the Cheer Captain. The first 8 months of our 2 years were grand while the remaining was spent figuring how to get out alive.
April 19, 2010
Before all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Before I understood that love wasn’t real. I had a boyfriend. A stereotypical high school nightmare, him the Football Guy and me the Cheer Captain. The first 8 months of our 2 years were grand while the remaining was spent figuring how to get out alive.
He was the first person I slept with, first guy to make me cum. I loved sex from day one. The tales of our relationship would not only bore you, but also frighten you to your core; instead I am skipping along to the juicy goodness. The breakup.
I had finally been given my out; Football Guy had hung up on me for the very last time. The next morning he approached me in the hallway. Tried to kiss me and I turned my cheek. “Why did you hang up on me?” I demanded. His response, “I didn’t feel like talking to you anymore.”
The entire day he kept approaching me for a kiss, my response, “I didn’t FEEL like it.” Heading to my last class of the morning he cornered me, told me if I walked away from him it was over. I turned on the heel of my espadrilles and walked into class, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Like clockwork Football Guy was standing outside my class when the bell rang. I walked by him. He grabbed my wrist, demanding we speak. I told him I had lunch plans that perhaps I would FEEL like talking to him after.
Heading into my first class post lunch drink in hand, he was waiting outside the giant glass wall of the science lab. He demanded to know what was going on. I told him I thought it was over; after all I had walked away. He laughed, “I was just threatening you.” He stared at me and I looked him square in the eye, for the first time feeling confident towards him. He asked if I still loved him. Silence. I took a long sip of my diet coke before answering, “No.”
He grabbed the drink from my hand, threw it in my face before punching the wall beside my head. I could feel the breeze on my cheek as his fist crunched into the drywall. I just kept staring him in the eye. He pushed me, for the last time, into the wall and then stormed around the corner and up the stairs.
I stood, my white sundress dripping in soda. I could see the kids in the science room on their phones, texts to everyone what they had witnessed. I had never felt better. I was free; let the games begin.
Mr. & Mrs. Sexuality
Sex is just sex. It just means I am hungry for you and you for me. People take sex way too seriously; they think by having it or talking about it, somehow makes YOU a bad person. I for one am sick of it and have finally met someone who gets it.
March 30, 2010
Sex is just sex. It just means I am hungry for you and you for me. People take sex way too seriously; they think by having it or talking about it, somehow makes YOU a bad person. I for one am sick of it and have finally met someone who gets it.
The Editor kissed me deeply his lips warming up my mouth. His skin was soft and his body, smoking hot. I lifted his worn in t-shirt and kissed his stomach using my teeth to pull at the waistband of his pants. He lifted me onto the sofa, laying me down over the giant pillows. His hands pushed up the silky fabric of my dress to reveal my Dolce and Gabbana leopard print lace thong. He was hungry and eager to taste me.
He pressed his lips into the lace and breathed deep before tickling me with his tongue. He teased me until I couldn’t stand it and then pulled my panties down to my ankles. His hands slid up my soft legs and his fingers flicked me, feeling how wet he had me. His eyes were checking out my every curve and he seemed very pleased with what he saw. The Editor devoured me until I lost my mind, which wasn’t very long as not only was he an expert, but the anticipation from the past week had taken a rather large toll. He had me on the ground facing him, both of us on our knees. I leaned into him, biting and kissing his neck while he places his hand underneath me to feel how soaking wet I was.
His pants slid to the ground as he pulled me inward by my ankles. His smile was killer; I could tell he was going to take his sweet time enjoying my every last drop. He dropped my ass down over the edge of the couch and slid inside me. Both of us moaned so loud I think the entire neighborhood could hear we were in ecstasy. He came so hard, then lead me to his room; throwing me down on the soft bed he had a mischievous grin on his lips. He loved the idea of taking me in the same bed that just a few hours prior he and his wife were in and I loved that he was so hot for me.
He continued to make me scream in all the best ways, before we both realized time was escaping us. As for someone who gets what sex is really all about, it is safe to say that The Editor nailed it (all puns wildly intended).
Let The Games Begin
The elevator doors opened; he stood across the room his back towards me looking sexy as ever. I walked up behind him, the train of my Marchesa gown trailing me and placed my hand on his perfect looking ass. He grabbed my wrist hard as he turned to face me.
The thrill of getting caught raced through my veins like a shot of adrenaline as I approached the lobby to meet Ralph Lauren Guy. The elevator doors opened; he stood across the room his back towards me looking sexy as ever. I walked up behind him, the train of my Marchesa gown trailing me and placed my hand on his perfect looking ass. He grabbed my wrist hard as he turned to face me.
He devoured me with his eyes and asked if I wanted to have a little fun. I could not wait to rip into him. We walked up the stairs; he kept trying to slide his fingers inside me, barley able to contain his excitement. By the time we made it to the second floor I could hardly contain mine. I was so wet with anticipation it took every ounce of willpower not to throw him on the ground and have my way right then.
There was an empty room at the end of the hall with nothing but a table and chairs and when the door closed behind us, the sound of the lock clicking in, I knew I was in for a treat.
He kissed me, hard, deep and urgently; his tongue tickling mine. His lips moved from my neck, to my shoulder, then chest, while his hands fought the fabric of my dress desperately trying to feel me. I grabbed his hair as I kissed him back, sliding one leg up around his waist so I could feel how big and hard he was getting. I stuck my tongue deep in his ear and gently dragged my teeth downward. He moaned and pushed me down on the ground. Grabbing my ankles and pulling me towards him; he was on his knees and pushed my panties to the side.
Flicking my clit with his tongue he was exploring every curve of me and just as I was about to lose my mind he stopped and unzipped his pants. He was so hard and I could tell just aching to feel my lips around his head.
I sat him on the chair placing one leg on either side of him. When I finally lowered my hips down onto him we both gasped with pleasure. I moved slowly at first, his hands squeezing my perfect ass pulling me down hard onto him. His head tilted back in ecstasy and I ran my tongue up his neck, pulling at his skin with my teeth. My nails dug hard into his shoulders as he stood up, still inside me and pressed me up against the wall. Taking me hard and deep, he had me at his mercy.
Laying me down across the table, I lifted my legs up around his neck and he took me hard. He felt amazing and I reached down and touched myself as he lost his mind inside me. Still on the table he pushed my legs apart and began to devour me with his tongue. Sliding his fingers inside me he made me cum.
We lay on the floor out of breath, unable to speak while his girlfriend lay upstairs in their bed. I couldn’t help but think, could have been more fun if she was there too.
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.
It’s All Fun and Games…
Women are very smart and savvy creatures. A woman always knows when something is going on. So when she feels that her husband is wandering, she takes drastic measures to keep him. This time it was in the form of an unexpected pregnancy; The Photographer's wife must have been onto him.
Until someone gets pregnant. Thank god, it was NOT me!
Women are very smart and savvy creatures. A woman always knows when something is going on. So when she feels that her husband is wandering, she takes drastic measures to keep him. This time it was in the form of an unexpected pregnancy; The Photographer's wife must have been onto him.
My excuse for being with a married man had always been, "well it's not like he has children". Until now. Now I had no excuses and wasn't quite sure what to say or how to feel.
His line was, "We can still be friends”.
My response, "We were never friends".
This hiatus lasted about 0.2 seconds before we realized we liked sex way too much, more specifically sex with each other, to throw in the towel so quickly. After all we couldn't let something like his unborn spawn get in the way of wild sex, could we?
It wasn't too long before he was on a plane and in my bed.
I began going to New York for interviews every few weeks and we would hold up for a few hours when I would visit. The thought of his pregnant wife distant in my mind and I assumed his too. Then one day Karma began to kick my ass.
And we all know Karma's a bitch...