I Touch Myself

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-janes. “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? 

The Hot Factor

When it comes to threesomes the goal is to find someone hot, but not hotter than you. Let’s just say she was blonde, tall and thin with huge round breasts and a firm ass. Not exactly not hotter than me…

We were out drinking, just the girls when the two of us broke away to buy cigarettes. We were laughing as she pulled one out and lit it for me. I smiled, she was my craziest friend; I knew I could ask her anything. “So, remember my photographer friend I was telling you about,” she nodded and inhaled deeply on her smoke. I placed my hand on her arm and smiled, “Would you want to play with us next time he comes to visit?”

She giggled the way she does when she is excited and shook her head yes. Let’s call her Sasha. 

The Photographer and I lay in bed. We had both just cum at least 4 times and it was barely after noon. I closed my eyes and pictured the way he looked while devouring me. He would bend me over on all fours and take me hard; I would glance over my shoulder to watch. Every-so-often we would lock eyes, I adored being at his mercy.

He was like a child waiting for Christmas morning, “What time is she coming over? Are we there yet?” I couldn’t help but laugh. After what felt like days of anticipation she knocked on my door. We sat at the kitchen table and I fixed us drinks and then lead her into my dressing room to change.

We stood in the doorway to the kitchen hand in hand and motioned for The Photographer to follow us into the bedroom. We wore matching thigh high fishnet stockings, Agent Provocateur of course. I undid my robe to reveal my signature black lace Agent Provocateur waspie with matching bra and thong; Sasha had on a leather and mesh bodysuit.

The photographer came towards us, grabbing us both by our waists; he kissed my lips then hers. We pushed him onto the bed and knelt over his body. I pulled Sasha towards me and kissed her soft lips. I slid my tongue around hers pulling it through my lips and nibbled on the tip of it. The Photographer rubbed our thighs as we began to put on a show. 

He could hardly wait to get us both naked but we had something else in mind first. 

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.

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 (and less gay) 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 of hair, makeup, 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

People often ask why I never write about BAD sex. Truth 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 arising 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 am begging him to keep going while I can almost taste the beautiful girls 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 begging 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 flitter closed recalling the details of the dream and my 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. 

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; 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. 

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.

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 of 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; 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?   

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. 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 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 as a noun describing 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. 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 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 kiss 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.