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.
Fuck the rules; living on my own terms is the only option. You don't like it? Then stop reading now because it always starts the very same way. So, I met this guy…
Showing posts with label Breasts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Breasts. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
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.
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.
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