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.

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 sitt 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. I had never had that happen 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 Vueve 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 can be 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 forced 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 have done nothing 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 Ave 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 and my friend off to a dinner, 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 pin-stripe 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. Drinks and food flowed along with our witty banter. I couldn’t help but notice the very shine 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, he had a look that was nothing less than sheer panic, “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. I guess that will be the last time he buys a pretty girl dinner. 

Spank Me Please

Aggression. Simply put, during sex some people get completely captivated. Animalistic instincts take over and alas it is no longer sex, but 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 as I read the text he had sent. The sound of the engine in the M series is so sexual; 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. Still confused as to where we were going I followed. 

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 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: How It All Began

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. 

Anti- Anticipation

My Lips ache to be kissed, touched, licked. I want him
and I am not sure how much longer I can take  waiting.
Monday is oh so very far away.

Until then I will have to find someone else to feed my
desires. I must confess I have broken the rules, he is the
only one I can think of...

I fantasize about what he will do to me, how I will devour
him. The anticipation is killing me.

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.

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.

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.

We were both breathless and wanting more. We walked out of the bathroom; the waiter standing there gave us a knowing smile. We had been at it so long the club had closed. As he put me into a taxi we kissed once more before 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 dates, one right after the other. 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, starring up watching 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, 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. He, describing how delightful it was to be deep inside me, how crazy I drove him when I worked him with my tongue. I, 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 our selves. 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 neon Agent Provocateur 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.