The Next Fix

It’s not necessarily that the grass looks greener; it’s just that you want to know what it feels like under your feet. Who dictates right and wrong in a relationship? Who sets the standard for what is acceptable and what can sustain a relationship over time?

We live in a world of quick fixes and instant gratification. How does the old model of marriage and relationships fit into this modern world? I have grown up in a generation of people that want it all and right now. Why are the relationship expectations of [the general public] today still very close to what they were some 80 years ago?

I don’t think it makes you a bad person for wanting sex and wanting sex with more than one person for the rest of your married (committed) life; wanting a new thrill every now and then.  

There is nothing like the rush of a fling, whether you are married or single. The urgency one feels when your lips finally touch after aching to feel each other. The way his hands slide up your legs; your nails dig into his shoulder as you push your hips against him. It is pure desire, full of silent temptations. 

Who says you cannot truly love and care for someone while desiring another physically? There is nothing like the sexual rush of being with someone your entire body craves, so why must we choose between love and lust? I do believe that what you don’t know cannot hurt you.

Maybe I am being idealistic... After all I grew up in a generation that wants it all. And preferably right now.  

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.

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.