I Touch Myself
Walking up the street to his East Village digs I adjusted my black woven hat. As I climbed the stairs I hoped not to run into The Neighbor, who so obviously wanted me for him self.
May 25, 2010
I have always been a sexual person. Getting myself turned on as just a young girl, making myself loose my mind before falling into a deep sleep. Sex was just another step in my pleasure; I enjoyed it from the very first time.
Walking up the street to his East Village digs I adjusted my black woven hat. As I climbed the stairs I hoped not to run into The Neighbor, who so obviously wanted me for him self. John Galliano Guy opened the door and smiled. He had on skinny black jeans, nothing else and looked incredibly sexy. I was beginning to wonder if he owned a shirt.
Excited and with something to prove in terms of my willpower, I placed my hat on the end table. I lay across his bed and he unbuckled the straps of my 6”high heeled Top Shop mary-jane’s. “Are we going to do this?” he asked as his hands began to move across my legs. I nodded and bit my lower lip in anticipation.
The only rules were no touching, anywhere in the obvious spots and no kissing. John Galliano Guy moved his hands up my thighs and over my waist. He pushed my skirt up and pulled off my sweater. I could feel his energy moving across my skin. I began to move my hands over his body. We were face-to-face sitting just inches away. I could feel his breath on my lips; we didn’t kiss.
I reached down and began making tiny circles over my panties. He unzipped his jeans and I could see how hard he was. I lay back, my head on the pillow so I could watch him stroke himself. My legs straddled his thighs and he sat up on his knees; our hands bumping each other’s as we got ourselves off.
We let go at almost the very same moment. He was all over my breasts, everywhere. It turned me on so much seeing him let go. I slipped back into my dress reapplied my YSL neon pink lipstick. As I buckled the straps on my shoes I couldn’t help but think; if he was that good with out touching me, what was going to happen next time?
Bad Behavior
Everyone has those moments, they wake up and think, “what the hell happened last night?” I am all for wild nights and crazy times but as a general rule I always remember what goes down, until now.
May 24, 2010
Everyone has those moments, they wake up and think, “what the hell happened last night?” I am all for wild nights and crazy times but as a general rule I always remember what goes down, until now.
I lay in The Friend’s bed and tried not to move; my head was pounding, rays of sunlight streamed in through the large window beside the bed and directly into my eyes. The Friend, up for a while it seemed was texting away on his blackberry naked next to me. “Water, need water,” I moaned and we both started laughing.
I could barely remember the cab ride into the city, yet some how I was having flashbacks to us fucking; me on top, riding him until I came. That was pretty much all I had and nothing else. I crossed the room and slid into my dress. My ass was killing me; I rubbed it with my hand only to feel a bump on one of my firm cheeks. I headed into the bathroom and pulled up my dress to see what the fuck was going on. Horror.
I walked into the middle of the hallway, turned around with my ass out and said, “What the fuck did you do to me last night?”
His face turned a remarkable shade of white; he just stared. I couldn’t help but laugh then confessed that I couldn’t remember a single thing from the night before. My ass was a lovely shade of black and blue right along side the left cheek about 3 inches in diameter. I had never seen anything quite like it. The Friend just shook his head, “How did that happen?”
It was completely genius; neither of us could remember a damn thing. I don’t recall him grabbing me or spanking me THAT hard. Trust me a bruise like this one would imagine being hard to forget.
I kissed him goodbye and could feel him getting hard again. His lips were soft and his hands firm around my waist. I could tell that if I didn’t leave now I never would. It was hard to keep from laughing as I rode the elevator down next to the suits heading off to work. The doors swung open and it hit me. Fuck.
It is going to take a master explanation to try to justify this one to my other lovers… I’d say wish me luck, but I am pure skill.
Sexually Challenged
It is beyond rare to meet someone and instantly get who they truly are, but that is precisely what happened. A sexier, more masculine version of John Galliano, he was the lead singer of a hip indie band. He had me mesmerized from the moment he stepped foot on the stage; I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him. Let’s call him, John Galliano Guy.
May 19, 2010
It is beyond rare to meet someone and instantly get who they truly are, but that is precisely what happened. A sexier, more masculine version of John Galliano, he was the lead singer of a hip indie band. He had me mesmerized from the moment he stepped foot on the stage; I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him. Let’s call him, John Galliano Guy.
Months after seeing him perform live I found myself in his apartment throwing different looks at him for the photo feature I had arranged; I was hoping to mix a little business with pleasure. Wild, open and sexually free, John Galliano Guy would subtly graze his hands over my hips and waist as he passed by me. The little flirtations were incredibly sexy, especially with the room packed full with teams for hair and makeup plus the band and the crew.
We sat on the floor of his apartment tired after a long shoot; the others were finally gone. We talked about sex and I could feel myself getting turned on. I was dying to lean over and kiss him slowly, use the tip of my tongue to part his lips and draw his lips onto mine. I wanted to feel his tongue pressed against mine, his lips devouring my mouth.
Instead I sat there, breath heavy in my chest. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself at the irony. John Galliano Guy’s neighbor had been pursuing me for months, to no avail. If he only knew what I had planned for John Galliano Guy; it would make the poor neighbor’s head spin.
Suddenly I was jarred back to reality when John Galliano Guy asked if I was into mutual masturbation. I had to confess… My willpower had never been strong enough. A devilish grin spread across his perfect lips; I knew he was challenging me.
I didn't quite know how I intended to pull this off, but if I had to handcuff myself to the bed I was determined not to surrender. If there is one thing that should be clear, I never back down on a challenge.
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...
Crazy For You
Sex is a powerful thing. People tend to get lost in it; they confuse it for love or a relationship. It has always been a strength of mine knowing how far I can throw people. With The Photographer it had been strictly sex from day one and things were about to get crazy.
May 17, 2010
Sex is a powerful thing. People tend to get lost in it; they confuse it for love or a relationship. It has always been a strength of mine knowing how far I can throw people. With The Photographer it had been strictly sex from day one and things were about to get crazy.
I was living outside of New York and jonesing for a fix. Our scandalous affair could only sustain through texts and web cam for so long. I wanted to push us sexually, push myself sexually. He hopped on a plane and I invited a friend.
The Photographer arrived at my apartment and we could barely make it in the door. His kiss was deep his hands cold on my naked flesh. I had missed that kiss, those hands; I had ached for them, fantasized about them. He was instantly hard and he lifted my legs around his waist and took me to my bed.
He removed my coat slowly untying the closure. He pulled it off my shoulders and kissed my neck. His hands pulled back the thick fabric and revealed the tight black corset that was binding me. His eyes lit up and his lips traced down my neck onto the tops of my breasts. I kissed his ear, slowly sliding my tongue inside while reaching down and unzipping his pants.
I pushed him by his shoulders until he was flat on the bed. He moaned as I licked him through his underwear and massaged his thighs with my hands. Using only my teeth, I got him naked. He was rock hard and I was so excited to feel him in my mouth, taste every inch of him. I devoured him until he begged me to stop.
The Photographer was beyond hot and I straddled his face and forced him to lick me. I loved the way his tongue made little circles over me. He would slide the tip of his tongue inside me and I'd beg for more; he knew how to drive me wild.
I lowered my body down onto him, teasing him until neither of us could handle it. We lay there breathless. My heart was pounding in my chest, a bead of sweat rolled down my back. I had cum so hard it made my head spin. All I could think about was later; I'd never had a threesome before and I was aching to try it.
Double or Nothing
Rules are there to protect you; we create rules so that we don’t get hurt. My rules are simple; no man comes home with me and don’t fall in love. Little did I know but a certain magazine editor was about to take me on; and all bets were going to be off.
May 10, 2010
Rules are there to protect you; we create rules so that we don’t get hurt. My rules are simple; no man comes home with me and don’t fall in love. Little did I know but a certain magazine editor was about to take me on; and all bets were going to be off.
He stood leaning against the bench, his jeans dark and fitted, his grey shirt loose. The way his hair was pushed back but small pieces still fell forward was incredibly sexy. The Editor had this look on his face as I walked towards him; it was like nothing else. He kissed me softly murmuring, “wow”.
We waked down the street his arm around my shoulder for the world to see. “Fuck them,” he said, “Fuck all of you… This girl is mine and I want everyone to know.”
I fumbled with the key as he slid his hands up my shirt; his hands were cool on my warm flesh. He grabbed my breasts as I managed to open the door and guide us inside. He kissed me and I loved feeling him getting thick through his jeans. We stood in the doorway unable to move, kissing slowly. His tongue parting my lips, my teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.
He held my chin in both his hands, pulling away to look me over. His smile blew my mind and I could feel myself getting incredibly wet. I was aching to have his hands all over me; have him slide inside me and make me moan. I was about to break every rule I had and I didn’t care.
Just like The Editor said, “Fuck them all”.
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…
Me, Myself and O
Many woman still don’t like to admit that they make themselves cum and I am not exactly sure why. If you can’t make yourself feel good, how can you expect someone else to?
May 5, 2010
Many woman still don’t like to admit that they make themselves cum and I am not exactly sure why. If you can’t make yourself feel good, how can you expect someone else to?
Nothing turns me on like lying in my bed getting ready to fall asleep. There is something about the way the cotton sheets caress my freshly waxed legs; the feeling is so sexual. I often let my mind drift to past lovers. I recall the way in which they touched me, imagining every detail while working myself over. And then, there are my fantasies.
As much as I love sex with men I can’t help but let my mind wander to women. I love fantasizing about being with them. I’ve only properly been with one and I’ve always wanted more.
I lay in bed alone and imagine she is kissing me; her hands, small and delicate. She has one hand on my shoulder and is grabbing my breast with the other; she makes tiny circles on and around my nipples with her nails. Her lips are soft and her kiss is firm.
When she lays me down and kisses my neck her soft hair falls across my face. She is a slave for me, there only to pleasure me. I imagine her hands grabbing my inner thighs as she continues to pleasure me, exploring me with her fingers. She licks me and I let out a short breath, barely able to contain myself. She slides her tongue inside me, tasting all of me, stopping to lick her lips. She kisses me so I can taste myself on her lips and then slides her fingers inside me. She talks me through the entire thing and my head starts to feel dizzy.
I arch my back and imagine her telling me how much she wants to make me cum; I let go. I lay there out of breath, my inner thighs moist. I flip the covers off me as I'm feeling hot and close my eyes. A good nights rest is required for what I have planned tomorrow; my "date" with The Editor is nothing short of reality.
Circle of Friends
Loyalty, a concept that is beyond lost. What used to be the foundation of any good relationship is now better suited to describe how one’s dog behaves. The night Ralph Lauren Guy came to New York, his friend alluded to just how un-loyal he was willing to be; I couldn’t wait to find out.
May 3, 2010
Loyalty, a concept that is beyond lost. What used to be the foundation of any good relationship is now better suited to describe how one’s dog behaves. The night Ralph Lauren Guy came to New York, his friend alluded to just how un-loyal he was willing to be; I couldn’t wait to find out.
The sun poured down onto my shoulders, I could feel my tan deepening. It was just past 5PM on Monday and I polished off my third drink of the day as I strolled through SOHO en route to my weekly dinner date.
A few months back I had been enjoying my usual glass of Chablis at Balthazar when I made friends with this amazing 70-year-old man. A retired ad exec he is now pursuing his true calling as an author; dinning at Balthazar on Monday’s for inspiration. Since we met it has become a weekly tradition that I join.
My phone buzzed on the bar and my friend laughed. He was always teasing me how I couldn’t go more than 2 seconds without getting some action on my mobile. It was Ralph Lauren Guy’s friend, lets call him The Friend. He was heading for dinner and wanted me to join. I laughed, why would I head to Brooklyn in this heat. He insisted, said he would have a car outside Balthazar in 10 to collect me. How could I refuse?
I touched up my lipstick as the car approached the famed Brooklyn steakhouse. I was barely in the door and The Friend had placed a glass of wine in my hand and an arm around my waist. We stood amongst his other beautiful friends laughing and drinking until we were ready to dine.
Throughout dinner he had his hand on my leg, his grip firm. I could tell he was aching to get me home and have his way with me. I sat with his hand pressed into my skin but could not help eying his friend across the table.
He was there with a date and it was clear that he would be going home with her, just as I would be going home with The Friend. Throughout dinner we expertly played our roles as objects-of-desire to our respective dates, but we both kept eyes locked on each other.
Post dinner drinks at the bar had us all rather smashed and I walked towards the bathroom in pursuit of The Friend’s friend. We stood inches away from each other; the electricity between us was insane. I wanted him to push me against the wall, kiss me hard, slide his hands over my breasts and lick my neck. I wanted to feel how turned on I had him.
Instead we stood there, barely speaking; it was clear what we both wanted. The Friend approached, asked if I was ready to leave; I smiled and nodded. As we headed for the door I slipped The Friend’s friend my number, gently sliding the piece of paper into his pocket as I kissed his cheek goodbye.
I couldn’t wait to see what The Friend had in store for me and I hoped that I wouldn’t have to wait to get to his place to find out.
Plan B
Nothing is permanent. On any given night in New York one seems to have plans, backup plans and then what they actually end up doing. As I learned early on anything can happen in this city and rather than plan it’s best to sit back, relax and let the night take you away.
April 28, 2010
Nothing is permanent. On any given night in New York one seems to have plans, backup plans and then what they actually end up doing. As I learned early on anything can happen in this city and rather than plan it’s best to sit back, relax and let the night take you away.
I sat across from the massive fireplace inside the Rose Bar, champagne bubbles dancing as they touched my lips. My pistachio colored dress was the perfect accent to my tanned skin; I looked very 1940’s chic seated on the long banquet. He approached me looking shy, which I hate. I don’t know why I had agreed to meet him, he was completely not my type; a sad pathetic little animal that I could chew up and spit out with just a look.
He sat nervously next to me, not quite able to sit still. He was frightened and I found this wildly amusing. He ordered a soda, mumbling something about saving money and after two sips got up avoiding eye contact and said, “I have to go, you have my number.”
I have had many firsts, but THIS was like nothing I had ever seen. He proceeded to stumble around the table and made a quick exit. I sat their stunned. This had never happened before. Why had he wanted to meet me? After all it had been his idea. Amused and baffled I turned to the two very handsome men sitting next to me. “Did you guys see that?” This was far too funny not to share.
Six glasses of Veuve later I was zoned into the really hot one, our knees bumping under the small table. His friend excused himself with an obvious yawn and gave us that knowing look. New Guy put his hand on my cheek and leaned in to taste my lips. I couldn’t stop kissing him.
My mobile began to vibrate wildly on the table, The Artist. It was almost midnight and I was to meet him an hour earlier. I hit ignore one more time and told my new friend it was time to get the check. While he settled the bill I slipped The Artist a quick note. New Guy was dying to get me in bed. His hands sliding over my waist and hips as he escorted me through the doors. “I have some great wine at my place,” he seemed sweet, but I didn’t want sweet.
The cab door closed and it was as if New Guy didn’t exist; all I could think about was The Artist. I wanted to be devoured, ripped into a million pieces; taken hard and really fucked. My mobile vibrated as the car came to a stop outside his door. “Two seconds darling and I’m yours…"
Take It Like A Man
A good fuck buddy is hard to find, impossible to deny and difficult to train; one should always be able to count on him. My fuck buddy seemed to be flaking… It appeared he had forgot his small role in my very active life and I made it my mission to remind him the only way I knew how. Denial.
April 27, 2010
A good fuck buddy is hard to find, impossible to deny and difficult to train; one should always be able to count on him. My fuck buddy seemed to be flaking… It appeared he had forgot his small role in my very active life and I made it my mission to remind him the only way I knew how. Denial.
It has been almost 2 years since our delicious affair began and The Photographer was in need of a refresher; when I want you, I get to have you. After MONTHS of avoidance, I felt he was punished enough; that and I was itching to be taken. I messaged him to meet me the next day, I had an hour and if he ever wanted to see me again he would meet me at his studio.
Midtown is a true nightmare; I walked passed the construction zone and climbed the steps to his building. It is virtually impossible to walk down the street without being accosted by the pathetic men who eye me up and down. His apartment is letter F and I laughed to myself, as all we ever seem to do there is fuck.
The Photographer opened the door and smiled, the same devilish grin across his lips. He immediately tried to kiss me; I pulled back. I let him run his hands over my body, let him kiss my neck. He was getting hard and when he pushed up against me I could feel every inch. I wanted him immediately. I wanted him to grab my shoulders, push me down onto his desk and take me right there; instead I walked across the room, letting him eye me, ache for me.
I tossed my purse onto the chair and he came up behind me, turning me around to face him. I kissed him, letting him taste every inch of my tongue; feel every second of what he had been missing. I got down on my knees and unbuttoned his jeans, he was getting harder by the minute. Taking the tip of him in my mouth I teased him with my tongue before devouring every inch. He could barely stand and forced me to stop.
He pushed me down onto the couch and pulled my dress up around my waist. I loved what he did with his tongue. He licked and sucked on me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have him. I straddled him, slowing lowering myself onto him. I fucked him hard. He begged me to stop; he couldn’t contain himself. He came so hard, it was amazing to watch, moaning and pulling me in even closer as he let go. After he came, I continued to fuck him until I was ready to let go.
I rolled over on the couch barely able to breathe. He started to say something and I put my finger to my lips, “Shhh..” I whispered. He smiled and laughed, “I forgot you hate to talk after sex, you are just like a man.”
I closed my eyes and smiled, I was like a man; even though we had just finished fucking, I could hardly wait until the morning when I would be fucking someone else.
Caught Empty Handed
In this game called life there are rules. When you break those rules you must heed the consequences, even if you haven’t done anything wrong. Yet.
April 21, 2010
In this game called life there are rules. When you break those rules you must heed the consequences, even if you haven’t done anything wrong. Yet.
After a meeting at The Core Club with a very dear friend, we stood outside and I took a hit from the joint we were sharing. I love the way a couple hits just relaxes my entire body. We strolled down Park Avenue heading to Monkey Bar for a much-desired cocktail.
Just as the last bit of Belvedere hit my tongue it was time to leave. With no real plans I decided to head to Balthazar, my go-to-spot, to see if someone wanted to buy me dinner.
I sat at the bar sipping Chablis; considering it was 9PM there were loads of geriatrics still kicking around. When I grew tired of avoiding the way-too-old men who continuously tried to invoke conversation, I spotted an opening beside a handsome suit near the end of the bar. Chablis in hand I strolled over and sat down next to him.
Finance Guy was well styled, in a sharp pinstripe suit that was cut to perfection. I would have expected nothing less from someone in his field who is hip enough to live in SOHO and savvy enough to still have his job (it was 2009). Drinks and food flowed, along with our witty banter. I couldn’t help but notice the very shiny ring on a certain finger.
How is it that a married man was able to go out alone on a weeknight? To say the least I was impressed; the married men I see can barely check their mobiles with out fear of getting caught, let alone pick-up girls on a random Tuesday! Turns out he was much less impressive than I had imagined. His wife was out with her girlfriend; he was supposed to be in France but due to a certain volcanic ash incident, he found himself at dinner with me. Ever the gentleman, he insisted on buying my dinner and then suggested we go to The Crosby for some bubbly.
The bartender topped up our second glass of fizz; his knee was beginning to accidentally graze mine as the alcohol worked its way into our systems. All of a sudden, a look of sheer panic struck his face, “my wife, that’s my wife…” An angry brunette was charging towards us. It was almost more than I could handle.
“What is going on here,” she demanded, staring back and forth not sure which one of us to take her rage out on.
I reached over and extended my hand, “You must be Finance Guy’s wife, I have heard so much about you, I’m Chloe”. I smiled and she shot me a look of death before announcing to whoever would listen that THEY were leaving. Finance Guy, now white as a ghost, threw down money for our drinks and proceeded to be dragged into the night.
The entire thing was simply too much; I couldn’t help but laugh. With two half empty flutes in front of me there was only one thing to do. I downed mine, followed by his. It seemed to me that a certain financier would most definitely be sleeping on the couch.
Spank Me. Please?
Aggression. Simply put, during sex some people get completely captivated. Animalistic instincts take over and alas it is no longer sex it’s pure FUCKING. The Artist is one of those people.
@psychedelicbreeze
April 20, 2010
Aggression. Simply put, during sex some people get completely captivated. Animalistic instincts take over and alas it is no longer sex it’s pure FUCKING. The Artist is one of those people.
My mobile vibrated in my hand as I paced in front of an unknown address in the East Village. He was late and I was becoming more curious as to exactly where he was taking me. His BMW turned the corner; the sound of the engine in the M series is so sexual and thus the perfect car for The Artist to drive. He kissed my soft lips, sliding his hand around my waist and leading me towards the massive steel door in front of the building. Our destination still unknown I followed willingly.
It was the most incredible downtown loft I had ever seen. Apparently the Artist had some very good real estate tucked in all the right corners of this fair city. He grabbed my ass and lifted me onto the granite countertop of the island. The stone was cold sending shivers throughout my body. My nipples hardened and ached to be touched.
He was more aggressive than before and I loved it. His hands pulled me close; he grabbed me by the throat squeezing tight. It felt amazing; he felt amazing. I tried to go-down on him, but he refused. He unzipped his pants; he was so full, so thick and hard like a rock. I desperately wanted to taste him. He began to tease me, moving his head along the lines of my panties. With out warning he pushed my panties to the side and thrust himself deep inside of me.
I gasped as he sent waves of pleasure throughout my body. Grabbing my hips he fucked me slow and deep. His breath was heavy and loud, his teeth sunk into my shoulder and neck. He lifted me off the counter, still deep inside me and worked me, lifting me by my ass.
The Artist was so intense. It was as if a whole other side of him had been exposed, the sexual deviant released. He bent me over the counter and spread my legs. I was still in my heels and my skirt was pushed up around my waist. Using his teeth he pulled my sheer Kiki DM thong to the ground, then pushed himself inside me. I was so incredibly moist and when he spanked my ass I could feel myself getting more wet. The harder he spanked, the more wet I became.
The way he dominated me was so incredibly hot. I felt like his little toy and I loved it. He came hard. Before he could take a breath I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. I needed him to finish what he had started; I don't take no for an answer.
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.
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.
Not-So Secret Seduction
It’s really not what you say, but how you say it. I have always been quite the linguist, especially when it comes to seduction. When I showed up at the private club for drinks, Lawyer Guy could tell that I was there for one thing and one thing only. And seduction is one game that I never lose.
April 14, 2010
It’s really not what you say, but how you say it. I have always been quite the linguist, especially when it comes to seduction. When I showed up at the private club for drinks, Lawyer Guy could tell that I was there for one thing and one thing only. And seduction is one game that I never lose.
He seemed surprised that I had agreed to meet him and his friends alone, especially knowing he was married. I laughed as I downed my second glass of bubbly, if he only knew how deviant I truly was. I could tell he was impressed and surprised. I took great pleasure watching him feel me out, seeing how he became more turned on at my every word. His eyes focused on my lips and my breasts, he shuddered as I slid my hand into his thigh while playfully laughing at our conversation.
The sexual energy was electric; the club began to fill up and we found ourselves sneaking away to the bar for more drinks. We were half out of sight when he pulled me into him. His kiss was desperate, his lips begging to be licked and sucked. I tilted my head back and he moved his tongue down my neck while his hands grabbed my ass pulling me close. He was painfully hard and I knew he wanted to take all of me.
Lawyer Guy was very turned on and it became clear that he was not worried about his friends seeing us. It was hot knowing they were secretly watching out of the corner of their eyes. He pulled me into the dark hallway, sliding his hands over my firm breasts, flicking my hard nipples. I was completely wet and aching for him. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and pinned me against the wall with one hand, turning the lock with the other.
I continued to kiss him while undoing his pants. I reached down and exposed his massive erection; I was aching to taste every inch. I took him in my mouth and licked and sucked him, working him with my hands at the same time. He was about to explode when he forced me to stop. He pushed my dress up over my hips, pulling my panties to the side. He devoured me, made me cum as he pushed his fingers into me while sucking on my clit.
We were both breathless and wanting more. We exited the bathroom; the waiter standing gave us a knowing smile. We’d been at it so long the club had closed. As he put me into a taxi we kissed once more and the cab sped downtown. I could hardly wait to finish what we had just started.
Hotel Hopping
I am notorious for double dating, often planning 2 consecutive dates. It was a Tuesday and first up was an early dinner and a first encounter with Ad Exec Guy, to be followed by drinks with Iron Man. It had been months since he had been back to New York and I could hardly wait to get my hands on him.
April 13, 2010
I am notorious for double dating, often planning 2 consecutive dates. It was a Tuesday and first up was an early dinner and a first encounter with Ad Exec Guy, to be followed by drinks with Iron Man. It had been months since he had been back to New York and I could hardly wait to get my hands on him.
Dinner was at a hotel in the East Village and it must be said that the cheese plate and champagne were far more interesting than the man. There is nothing that turns me off more than a know-it-all. This is why I often set up two dates in one evening; when one is disappointing you simply move on to the next.
I touched up my lipstick as the elevator sped up to the 8th floor of the chic uptown hotel, the soft pink gliding smoothly across my lips. Iron Man opened the door to his suite; he looked better than I remembered. He slid his arm around my waist and kissed me deeply; the door closing behind us as he pushed me up against the wall. He was hard instantly.
We could barely stop kissing long enough for him to pop the cork on the bottle of bubbly. Our glasses clinked and I took a long sip letting the bubbles dance on my tongue. I looked him directly in the eye as I took another sip; we were both aching to rip each other’s clothes off.
I sat leaning on the edge of the dresser; Iron Man placed his glass on the table next to me and got on his knees. He slowly undid the straps on my heels, gliding his hands up my smooth legs. He pressed his lips into the creases of my knees, working his way up my thighs sending shivers down my spine. I could feel myself getting wet. He slid his fingers up, rubbing me through the lace of my Agent Provocateur thong. I let out a gasp as he alternated pressure.
He continued touching me, staring up to witness how turned on he had me. I asked how long I had him in New York, he told me just tonight; he had meetings in Washington in the morning. I loved knowing he had flown in just for drinks with me.
Iron Man grabbed my wrist and threw me onto the massive bed, the 1200 thread-count sheets caressed my body and he pushed my skirt up and devoured me. I begged him to stop, not to make me cum just yet, but he would not listen. He licked and sucked me until I came so hard, his fingers sliding into me just as I let go.
I lay there, breathless yet aching for more. He told me to follow him and then led me into the bathroom champagne in hand. I couldn’t wait to find out 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.
Deviant Behavior
I stood on the stoop of his 5-story brownstone wearing grey mary jane 6” high heeled shoes with white ankle socks and my wild coyote fur coat with the giant hood pulled up to block the wind from whipping my face. He opened the door and looked me over, his perfect smile widening.
@aphrodisiak.fr
March 31, 2010
In the city that doesn’t sleep it is not uncommon to have meetings at all hours. When The Artist invited me to his studio at 11PM to discuss work projects, I didn’t think twice.
I stood on the stoop of his 5-story brownstone wearing grey mary jane 6” high heeled shoes with white ankle socks and my wild coyote fur coat with the giant hood pulled up to block the wind from whipping my face. He opened the door and looked me over, his perfect smile widening.
We began in the kitchen with a glass of wine before the grand tour; he took me one-by-one through each room, which had been expertly designed. When midnight rolled around we were deep in conversation about his work, specifically the overtly deviant sexual undertones. We sat on the low sofa in the living room, he reached over and brushed my leg as he placed his glass on the table. His eyes wandered down my smooth legs stopping at my feet; I think the schoolgirl socks were a turn on.
As we made it to the top floor it was obvious we could barely contain ourselves. A beautiful bench faced a mirror and I sat down, legs crossed waiting for him to join me. He placed his hand on the back of my shoulder and kissed me. He was rough, pulling me towards him, grabbing my breasts and my ass.
The look on his face was one of pure domination. He wanted to tear me apart and I could not wait. He threw me onto his bed and bent me over, grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge. He sunk his teeth into my ass cheek and I moaned, then without warning he was deep inside me.
He was so big and hard it made me scream with pleasure. I grabbed his wrist and forced him onto the bed. I dragged my nails down his chest as I tasted myself on him. Straddling him I teased him, rubbing him against me to feel just how wet I was until he couldn’t stand it and grabbed me, forcing me down onto him.
After hours of pleasure we both lay there breathless and exhausted. There was an incredible painting that hung on the wall. I had commented that it was one of my favorites he had done. When we finally caught our breath he walked over to the painting and took it down off the wall. “I want you to have this,” he said as he handed it to me.
We made our way back down stairs and I felt satisfied in more ways than one. Not only had I finally conquered The Artist, but I could now display him on my wall for everyone to see.
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).