Deviant Behavior

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 6” high heeled grey Mary Janes with white ankle socks; my wild coyote fur coat, with the giant hood pulled up, blocked 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. and 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.

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, and 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).

Bondage

The hotel bar is an entity in it’s own right, a place with it’s own rules and social norms. I adore a good hotel bar for many reasons, one of which being the hansom travelers just waiting for a little trouble.
In between apartments, I was holding up in the Tribeca Grand for a few days. Having just returned from Miami my skin was tan and it made my hot pink lips even seductive. I was sipping champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue, while my bartender Justin and I tried to figure out how we knew each other… I have an eye for faces.

The two gentlemen next to me at the bar kept glancing my way. I smiled and introduced myself; one was a complete disaster but the other was spot-on. Tall, handsome, impeccably dressed and English, I’m not quite sure if it gets better than that.

Lets call him James Bond Guy.

James Bond Guy was straight out of a film. Everything about him was utter perfection; a creature created for our viewing pleasure. He told me he worked for the government in England, who was I to question? We shared a few rounds at the hotel bar before he invited me to join him for dinner.

We headed around the corner to a small place with a glaring red light outside. His eyes never left mine the entire meal. The way he looked at me sent chills running down my spine, it was like he could tell exactly what I wanted to do to him and was daring me to try. We finished off the second bottle of wine and I tried again, “what is it exactly that you do?”

Some how our conversation had meandered to the topic of cars, a passion of mine, and I couldn’t quite figure out how anyone working for the government was able to afford a Bentley Continental. That’s when he told me, British Secret Service, MI5. Like anyone with half a brain I immediately shot it down, but he had the goods to back it up.

We left the restaurant and stumbled back to the hotel, his arm around my waist, guiding the way. Just outside the revolving door, he pulled me inward and kissed me. His hands on my face, pulling my chin upward, I breathed him in deep. His scent was sexual and masculine and his strong kiss was getting me too turned on to resist him.

We stepped into the glass elevator, eager to get upstairs. The door swung open and it was a matter of seconds before my head hit the pillow. His hands sliding up my dress, feeling every inch of my body. I could see how excited he was, he kissed my legs, knees and inner thighs, getting so close to feeling how wet I was for him, then he stopped. James Bond Guy grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to meet his kiss. As we kissed he slid his fingers inside me and I let out a short breath. He pulled me off the bed and led me to the shower… I couldn’t wait to see what he had in mind.

Sleepless Nights

I really love my sleep, unless of course it is being interrupted every hour by Iron Man to have his way with me again and again. His kiss was delicious and lying naked in the white linens, exhausted from a night with little sleep I couldn’t help but crave more.

My mind kept wandering back to him taking me; the way he went down on me, making me cum and then fucking me so hard sent my body into waves of pleasure. He loved taking me any way, as long as it was deep, and slow. He had me up against the wall in the shower, the hot steam pouring down making it hard to breath while he worked me, spanking my wet, full ass.

He rolled over and rubbed my shoulder, slowly sucking on the tip of my ear, working his way down my neck; teasing my nipples with his tongue before sliding himself inside me. It was amazing how hard he still was after last night.

He left my naked in bed to head to a meeting anticipating that I would stay that way until he returned. As the door closed, I let out a long breath; who knew a job interview with Boss Lady would have turned into this?

His meeting went way longer than anticipated; by the time he returned we only had time for a quick bite. I could not get enough of him. When he climbed into the taxi, JFK bound, I followed him inside.

I sat kissing him with my legs draped on either side of his as the car sped down Central Park South. I pushed my hips down onto him, he was hard again; I slid my panties to the side and unbuttoned his jeans. With the driver less than a foot away from us I slowly slid him inside me.

Both of us were in ecstasy with the slow movements of my hips grinding into him. I came so hard, and then continued to ride him until I came again. Just as the taxi was about to turn onto the FDR I hopped out, breathless and barely able to stand. I’d never done that before and am not sure if it was the urgency to take him one last time or the naughtiness of the driver being right there that sent us both over the edge, either way I was aching to do it again.

Let The Games Begin

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 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 urgent, 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 desperately.

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.

Winning IS Everything. Always.

When I want something, I make it my mission to get it. I haven’t failed yet, even when minor road bumps stand in my way. The art of seduction is not one that can be well defined, it twists and turns and bends and unfortunately for you, I don’t have a formula to offer. Although we both know you’re just aching for one. It’s about being perceptive, reading situations and working them in your favor.

I had my eye on him for quite some time, before we even met. His work, genius with strong sexual undertones that only exist when the creator is a true sexual deviant. A New York playboy through and through, his face always turned up in the local gossip rags from the most exclusive parties. Let’s call him The Artist.

There was something about him and I had to find out what it was. Tracking him down was easy and innocent in appearance; I wanted an interview for a story I had in the works. After weeks of telephone tag and Face Book messages it seemed as though the game would be over before it started.

Fast-forward 5 months to New York Fashion Week; I planned the party for a chic local art and fashion publication. The hotel lounge was packed with all the right people; you know the types, artists, designers, models, musicians and the usual wannabes (or as GAWKER so affectionately coined “FAUXHEMIANS”). I knew he would be there.

In good form The Artist showed his face close to 2 AM. I introduced myself; he was even sexier in person than in photographs, his hair slightly tousled and his chin with just the right amount of stubble. I was dying to pull him into one of the dark booths that surrounded us; craving his hands all over me, pulling at my Marc Jacobs backless chiffon dress. Instead we chatted over champagne while his date kept interjecting her dull opinion. I had him exactly where I wanted him,  it was only a matter of time before I moved in for the kill.

We parted ways, him suggesting drinks later in the week. I could tell by the way his eyes focused in on my mouth that he had no intention of talking work. I was aching to find out just how deviant The Artist really was.

The Art of Winging It

I am a bit of a muse for trouble. It seems to be inspired by my very presence. No matter where I am it always finds me. My friend and I were out for dinner this past Friday, wanting to have an early night we settled in for a few glasses of wine on a cute patio in the Lower East Side. We kept ourselves amused with people watching, and seeing as the LES is all of a sudden the new Meat Packing District, sprinkled in tourists, there were some stand out-stars.

We decided to head over to the Bowery Hotel, a favorite spot of mine, for another round or two. Upon arrival we were promptly supplied with a steady flow of champagne and cigarettes. After glass number 5 of champagne the bartender insisted we do shots with him. His friends had joined us in our drinking and I could tell Scarlet had her eye on one.

We soon found ourselves leaving the Bowery and heading to a random dance club. My friend, like me, is totally gorgeous. She too is in the fashion world, working as an executive assistant for a major CEO. Let’s call her Scarlet.

Scarlet had been totally working it at the Bowery… You could tell there was sexual tension by the way they were looking at each other. It was kind of hot to watch, although I’d rather have been involved. The two of them danced into the night, as I took a long drag of my cigarette and watched from across the room. That was my exit cue.

No Longer Just an "American" Dream

The world wide web created a new vehicle for people to achieve fame and this time it was global. In the short time since starting So I Met This Guy, people have written offering the opportunity to develop some amazing concepts. Publicists, and publishers are already banging the door down as well as a few in-the-know magazines.

If anything in the wonderful world of sex goes down, there is one man that we can trust to already have it in the bag. My first week posting he wrote me saying he loved the blog, told me to keep in touch, and then asked me to coffee. Let’s call him The Editor.

He was immediately taken with me. I could tell by the way his eyes traced over every inch of my exposed flesh. I could feel him craving to lean in and kiss me, slide his hands up my skirt and squeeze my ass. The way he looked at me, like he was devouring me whole, turned me on like crazy. I had remained 100% anonymous until that moment when I met him in the park. Now someone, a very sexy someone, knew my face. The whole meeting was too scandals for words.

The two of us sitting there in the sunshine, two of the most sexually liberated people out there who are not afraid to talk about it; the sexual tension in the air was thick. It was everything I could do, not to lean in close and whisper in his ear to follow me to my place. He was like no one I had ever met and all I wanted was more.

Every time my phone vibrates I get excited at the prospect of receiving some of his dirty messages. He is so unbelievably sexual. He drives me mad. When neither of us could bear it any longer, we gave in. I walked up the steps to his place my trench coat dropping to the floor as he grabbed me and kissed me hard, his hands rubbing my perfect breasts and teasing my nipples. He worked my body expertly and knew exactly where to touch me to get me hot. I was aching to have him in the worst way.

IRON MAN

It was fashion week, the opening of a chic little bar in the East Village and I was there meeting a potential work client for the first time. The meeting was fantastic, the drinks were just beyond and there was an extremely dashing young man who kept eyeing me from across our group. He was there with the Boss Lady’s friends, but they did not know each other.

Boss Lady had to leave around midnight, but told me to stay and have fun with the group. As soon as she was out of sight the handsome man came over and took the now empty seat next to me. Let’s call him Iron Man.

Iron Man was impeccably dressed and extremely hansom. I asked where he hailed from, and he informed me that where he was from was much too complicated a story for just one drink and that I should join him and his friends dancing.

We left the bar and piled into a giant black SUV. We arrived at Butter around 2AM on a Monday during fashion week and it was as packed as I’d ever seen. As we made our way down the stairs it became clear that not a table was even close to being open.

The manager rushed over to us, apologizing and promising us the world if we could just hold on for 2 minutes. I saw him head over to the back corner booth and within 30 seconds the table was ready for us, complete with bottles of Patron, Belvedere, and Vueve. I remember thinking, “who on earth am I with!?”… I would later find out the group was part of Asia’s fashion and social elite.

As we danced the sexual tension was becoming too much to handle. Our lips almost touching, but we kept trying to resist. His hands moving over my ass, squeezing my every curve, his breathe tickling the back of my neck as I pushed into him. He had grown up in London, and his English charm would sneak through every now and again. By 4AM the group was getting ready to head to the next spot, I heard something about a strip-club, but Iron Man and I were way too into each other to join them.

We hopped into a taxi and sped up-town to his hotel on Central Park South. Anyone that knows me will realizes that it takes a lot for me to go above 14th Street and this guy must have been well worth it. The taxi ride was full of kissing and touching as we began to give into temptation. He paid the driver and escorted me up the hall to the elevators, the concierge greeting us as “Mr and Mrs. Iron Man” when we entered through the glass doors, I guess he stayed there a lot.

Once in his room he kissed me slowly, with one hand on the back of my neck. He used his other hand to gently flick the straps of my dress off my shoulders, causing it to fall to the floor. I stood there, 6” high-heeled black leather boots, neon green Agent Provocateur lace thong with matching bra, and a shiver ran down my back. I could tell this was just the beginning.

All Is Fair In Sex and War...

I am not attracted to men that try to pick me up. I tend to find their efforts sad, pathetic and most often unwelcome. Trust me if I want you, you’ll know.

Half the fun of concurring someone is the challenge. It is quite a satisfying feeling to know you have the power to acquire whom ever you desire. Some of you might be thinking, “cocky much?” But really, those of you who know me, there are a few of you out there, YOU know exactly what I am talking about.

I am the girl that you should fear. I always get who I want and for exactly as long as I want them. This is true no matter the circumstance; in fact if they are unavailable I take even more pleasure in making them succumb to my every move.

I attended the wedding of a close family member this past September. I personally don’t know how I feel about the concept of weddings but I must say they are the perfect place for random acts of naughtiness.

I first saw him at the Saturday evening cocktail reception. He looked like he’d stepped of out of a Ralph Lauren ad and the second I laid eyes on him I knew I had to have him. Let’s call him, Ralph Lauren guy.

Ralph Lauren guy was there with his girlfriend of 5 years; it must be said, she was incredibly beautiful and smart; a lawyer by trade. She had amazing blonde hair and the most ridiculously perfect breasts.

Ralph Lauren guy went into the house and I followed. While in line for the bar I could feel his eyes on me as I pretended not to notice. We exchanged a quiet glance before I turned and left, knowing all too well his gaze was locked firmly on my legs as I walked past him and back out to the party.

The next day, post marital festivities, I finally introduced myself. I could tell he was hot for me even before he said his name and it wasn’t before long that he followed me out the door and down the hall. Before we were out of sight he threw me up against the wall and kissed me hard with one hand around my neck pulling me in, the other gripping my ass. His kiss was urgent and I could feel how excited he was by the bulge in his pants.

It was a complete turn-on knowing that at any second his beautiful girlfriend could round the corner and catch us in the act and I could tell he thought so too. We returned back to the party and just as things were coming to an end and people were calling it a night I felt a hand on my shoulder. The feeling of his hot breath against my neck as he asked me to join him in the lobby in 20 minutes, sent shivers down my spine and made my nipples so hard. I couldn't wait to find out what he had in mind.

Lessons in Linguistics

I have always had a thing for MEN. My first real crush was on my father’s best friend, and yes I still have a small thing for him. His son was my age and had a crush on me, but lets be honest… I have never really been interested in playing with boys.

This story is not about my father’s friend though.

3-2 is what my best friends used to call him to tease me, so we will call him just that, 3-2.

He was very hansom and flirtatious; and the first real man that I was “with”. We met in person just once, as he lived half way across the country, at a dinner where I was most definitely with my parents; yet that did not stop our flirtations. We began what would become exactly what I needed at the time.

I was in my first year of university and had no time for anything, 3-2 was about to push me into being more adventurous and more sexual than any of the boys I had dealt with in the past. It would only be fair to credit him with pretty much all of my phone-sex skills. For several months we spoke almost every night.

Each time the calls would become more sexual, a bit dirtier and certainly more aggressive… He was a complete pervert, as are most men interested in sex, and I would blow his mind by recounting every last detail about the fit of my cheerleading uniform. The way it felt when his hands would slide up under the pleats of my skirt, pushing my panties to the side and feeling how soft and wet I was. He loved hearing me cum, the way my breath would get short and fast and how I would moan in ecstasy. The sounds of my pleasure would drive him wild.

I can’t remember why the calls ever stopped, but 3-2 initiated me into the wonderful world of phone-sex, something that I continue to adore now. I am not sure what turns me on more about it, hearing what my lover wants to do to me, or seeing how turned on he gets hearing what I want to do to him. Either way, I must keep enjoying it until I find the answer… Wouldn't you agree?

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.

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 on Lan Kwai Fung we were being so aggressive with one another that we were asked to leave, which is my more-mild version of what actually 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.

Against The Lawyer

I met him while out for drinks with my boss at the private Manhattan club for the creative and such, Norwood. We chatted over champagne about work, life and the other predictable bullshit one does. Something about him though, I could tell he was a complete pervert. You know the kind… They accidentally brush up on your leg; touch your hair while they talk to you about their wife and kids.

Its all a bit foggy, we drank so very much but I remember him trying to kiss me, and I am pretty positive that was right after he introduced me to his wife’s best friend. His profession, law, but with a very specific specialty. For the sake of his anonymity we’ll just call him Lawyer Guy.

Lawyer Guy continued trying to kiss me, all the while trying to kiss my boss too. He ended up inviting us out dancing and while she declined, I accepted. Once we were inside the packed room he wasted no time at all unleashing his true desires. He pushed me up against the wall and kissed me, hard. His hands grabbed me even harder, leaving bruises on my neck and ass. It was kind of hot how aggressive he was, I wondered if he was like that with his wife….

Up To the Minute

Dearest Friends,

Please add me on Face Book to get play by plays of my nights out on the town.

ChloeIs MyAlias

http://www.facebook.com/search/?q=chloeis+myalias&init=quick

xx

The Offseason

This Past New York Fashion Week I worked on the production of a very important designer's show. We had a hansom Pro-athlete “helping out” as our intern. He was so not my type, tall, overly muscular, tattooed and of course an athlete. Although I was the captain of my high school cheerleading team, I do not date athletes. Okay, who am I kidding I don’t really DATE anyone.

I knew nothing about his sport, when we met I had to asked if he played offense or defense… After flirting at the show he invited me for dinner and out dancing. We spent the night drinking champagne and kissing. I am pretty sure I heard him telling people I was his future wife, too bad I don’t plan to get married. Although he invited me to Miami for his offseason, I had to respectfully decline.

As I said before, I don’t date athletes. They put themselves first, their team second and YOU third and I am not interested in coming third.

It's All Fun and Games

Until someone gets pregnant.. Thank god, it was NOT me!

It is my belief that 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, "we can still be friends," mine, "we were never friends."

This hiatus lasted about 0.2 seconds before we realized we liked sex way too much, and 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. Then one day Karma began to kick my ass.
And we all know Karma's a bitch...

The Interview

One of my first interviews was for an online magazine featuring an extremely talented fashion and art photographer. As we were in different countries at the time of the interview we never met in person. Four months later I moved to New York and invited him for drinks to say thank you and introduce myself. My friend warned me about photographers and I remember telling her, "Don't worry he is 40 and married, I don't think we have anything to worry about".

That statement was the beginning of the end. Let's call him "The Photographer".

I think we bonded over our love of exotic food, or perhaps it was our love of wild sex. Either way we had way too much fun sneaking around the city to rip each others clothes off. It was such a cliche, going to his studio, him picking me up in his beautiful sports-car. I thought it would all end when I left New York in the Fall, but it didn't.

It became more intense... he'd fly to come see me, say he was going on a "shoot" and then it was a "re-shoot". I would try to break it off, but was so wildly attracted to him and we'd have so much fun together I couldn't help myself. Did I mentioned I have a thing for the British? His accent made everything even hotter (and more cliche).

Now, I don't want you to get the wrong impression, this is not a porn site, but it must be said, The Photographer is the some of the hottest sex I've ever had. He was wild, made me insane in all the best ways. His love of thigh high stockings gave me an Agent Provocateur addiction; one I have yet to break. He had me completely wrapped around his finger and when I invited a friend to join us, I had him wrapped around mine. He was, and most likely still is, a complete pervert and the idea of fucking someone half his age was a massive turn on.

I am not one of those dumb girls that thought he would leave his wife for me. That would have been terrible as who could trust a man that was cheating on his wife. I just saw myself as his mistress, the one he wanted to be with physically. It was kind of a turn on knowing he had someone else and would rather be with me.

Then one day everything got totally fucked.

Hong Kong... An Introduction

I must start off by saying that all events are 100% real and take place over the past 2 years since moving to New York. Real names will not be used as to protect the identity of the individuals.

So I met this guy...

..in Las Vegas. I had taken my Mum there to get over her divorce as my brilliant Father had recently decided to run off with some Brazilian chick. Let's call him "London Guy". He was handsome and by far the best dressed person for miles, although in Vegas that is not saying much. He was English, a lawyer and totally gorgeous.

I invited London Guy to join my entourage (yes this was my Mum and Aunt) at our Private table on the roof top at Pure night club. We spent the night drinking and talking, although I have not a clue what we talked about, and then headed downstairs to the tables where I lost hundreds of dollars, his money of course, at blackjack. Did I mention I am a terrible gambler?

Since I was there with family, I thought it best not to stay the night and we parted ways as the sun was coming up. As he was returning to London that morning and I too heading home, I chalked the whole thing up to romantic encounter and told myself I would never see him again.

A day later London Guy called... asked what I was doing next week. I vaguely recalled him mentioning something about a business trip when we first met. "Nothing, What are YOU doing?". He said he was going to Hong Kong for work, and asked if he could bring me along.

30 minutes later I had an E-ticket to Hong Kong in my inbox, and was packing for a next morning departure.