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.
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 Central Park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Central Park. Show all posts
Friday, March 26, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)