How Do You Want Me?

There are two kinds of men, those that love sex and those that like it. I for one am always taken aback when a man truly does not love sex. I guess that is my stereotypical point of view being shocked and awed; and not in anyway that I like.

Luckily for me the only shocking The Photographer does is in the sexual variety and it always makes me say, “Ahh.”

It had been over a month since I saw him last. Between his travel and my working there had been zero time for our affairs; needless to say we were both aching to get our hands on one another.

The door had buzzed twice while I slid the champagne colored Agent Provocateur thigh high stocking up and over my knee. I stepped into my new Acne black leather pumps and buzzed The Photographer upstairs. I had spent the morning by the pool and planned on spending the afternoon having him explore every inch of my body.

Pushing me against the exposed brick wall of my apartment The Photographer tried to kiss me. I turned my cheek, tilting my head back and parting my lips with a slight grin. He was dying to kiss me and feel the wet of my tongue pushed up against his; I wanted to make him work for it. 

His hands held onto the smallest part of my waist in a firm grip, his hips pushed into mine. The Photographer kissed my neck while pulling me even closer towards him. My legs shook with pleasure as  he began to work me with his finger tips. Pushing me down onto the bed, he removed his jeans. 

He was hard and eager to take all of me... I knew what The Photographer wanted and this time I was going to give it to him. 

The Right Ass-ets

Every man has one (or more) parts of the female body that drive him absolutely wild. The most brief of encounters can lead to a spontaneous and wild affair, if that part is in play. For The Firefighter it was my ass; and my black studded micro-mini dress was about to get me into loads of trouble.

I walked up the street; the sun was pounding on my back and I pushed my hair in front of my shoulder to expose my skin; the low cut back of the dress was excellent for on-the-go tanning. My black Stuart Weitzman espadrille sandals made my legs even longer and I could feel people’s eyes following my every move.

My phone vibrated in my hand; The Firefighter wanted to play. I laughed to myself, as I was about to stroll past his place. Earlier in the week I had decided I was over him. The Photographer was back on again and I had been flying to New York every other week for hours and hours of pleasure.

As I raised my hand to knock, the door swung open and I was greeted with his devilish grin. Pushing passed him I threw my vintage green snakeskin handbag on his couch and helped myself to some water. As I perused through cupboards trying to find a glass, I could feel him walking towards me.

The Firefighter placed his hands on my waist and slid them down over my firm ass. He moaned as he grabbed me hard and spun me towards him, “You have the sexiest ass I have ever seen.”

I smiled and tilted my chin backwards letting him kiss down my neck to my chest. His hands lifted me up onto the granite counter top and I let out a gasp as my warm skin touched the cool stone. He was incredibly hard and kept trying to kiss my lips.

Pushing him away, I slid off the counter. As I made my way across the room I enquired what made him want me so badly. He laughed, “There is nothing I won’t do for your ass.”

And that was all I needed to hear.

Fuck-Me-Not

There is something quite sexual about the art of kissing. We have all been there; a bad kiss, an abrupt halt on any intentions to go further. On the contrary, good kissing might just be the key to the steamiest sex possible. When all is said and done (the toys tossed aside, the handcuffs left dangling from the bedpost) you can be tied up, smacked around or whatever tickles your fancy… But those of us in the know ‘get it’. 

There is nothing sexier than a man who can really kiss.

I lay in bed, my heart pounding in my chest. Legs stretched out, my naked body aching to feel a cool breeze come in from the window. My new lover kept trying to run his hand down my arm as we both attempted to catch our breath. All the while I kept trying to avoid the polite post-sex fondling.

We had been dating, something new and different for me. He was smart, handsome and very stylish; everything I look for in a man. The sex? It was divine and more exciting every time. To make up for the dirtiness and wild aggression he seemed to be lacking initially, there was one thing he had that all the other men didn’t; a kiss that made me weak in the knees.

Let’s call him Dating Guy.

By luck more than judgment I am not really into the idea of ‘dating’. I find it near impossible to meet a man that I want to talk to and fuck. Dating Guy was different, not only did I enjoy his company but the mere thought of kissing got me completely turned on.

His hands would gently grab the side of my jaw, as he’d pull my lips towards his. He’d move his fingers through my hair and pull me in by the back of my neck. Dating Guy had this amazing scent and each time I inhaled, I would breathe him in.

The sex was great and the kissing made it even better. I would have him on his back, straddling his waist. Leaning in I’d gently touching my soft, smooth lips to his as my hair fell across my firm breasts. Just as he was about to kiss me back I’d pull away an inch and then take the tip of my tongue and draw it slowly and seductively across his lips.

I’d work him into a frenzy teasing him with just my kiss until he was desperately grabbing my ass and practically begging to be inside me. We’d get each other so hot just from kissing… I couldn’t wait for him to pin me down by my shoulders and show me exactly how much he really wanted me.

If kissing is any indication or how hot sex can be, I was dying to keep Dating Guy around to find out just how far I could push him... 

Less Talk; More Action

Men, and seemingly some boys, seem to love talking a big game when it comes to being kinky; I have found many a man who thinks he is into being sexually adventurous. The problem inlays that even when they break out the toys, seldom do they really know what to do with them. Tricks are not for kids; and Media Guy was most definitely a child.

I climbed the narrow, steep stairs up to the second floor loft in Chelsea. Media Guy had not lied; his apartment was vast. I sat perched on the edge of a bar stool in the kitchen, taking a long drag of my cigarette. He was expertly mixing a vodka martini and I told him to make it dirty.

He was handsome and my cocktail was delicious but I was getting tired of the chitchat and polite niceties. I was there for one reason and one reason only. I wanted to play.

Walking across the room I let the silk straps of my dress fall down my tanned shoulders. The sound of my heels against the floor as I entered his bedroom were like the hand of a clock counting down the minutes. Media Guy followed me, like a child hanging on my every move.

He placed his hand on the back of my neck and kissed my shoulders. I grabbed his wrist and threw him onto the bed. “Now, where are those hand cuffs you mention?”

Media Guy reached into a drawer and pulled out some pathetic contraption that resembled what one would buy as a gag gift, if one were that kind of person. “Right,” I gawked at the ‘cuffs’.

Bored and slightly disappointed, I crawled onto the bed; I just wanted to be fucked. He slid his hands up my skirt and over my thighs. He pulled off my dress and devoured my body. Media Guy needed to be put in his place. I straddled him and took him hard until he was about to lose his mind. Just as he was about to go over the edge I’d stop, letting out a slight laugh.

I let myself cum while still on top and then rolled over onto my back, slightly breathless. He looked pleased even though I had done most of the work. I could tell he was waiting to get his, especially after the torturous teasing.

Feeling quite ‘letdown’ from all his talk and the very little action I decided to call it a night. I slid back into my dress, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It was a pleasure darling,” I whispered in his and then headed for the door.

The look of shock/disappointment was beyond comical. I hailed a taxi and laughed to myself. Will not be doing that again anytime soon! Any man that pulls out handcuffs like those is most definitely not the man for me. 

Hit The Showers

There comes a time in every relationship, whether it’s emotional, physical or even (dare I say it) both, where you need to ask for more. After two years of glorious sex I was beginning to feel like we were hitting a wall. Every now and then a girl just wants to get fucked; after months of begging for more The Photographer was about to step up his game.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, my body still humming from my last orgasm. I could time it down to the second; I would feel The Photographer stirring next to me and then 4, 3, 2… the sound of the water running as he climbed into the shower.

The poor Photographer; so busy and beyond stressed, as soon as our shaggery is complete he's half way out the door, leaving me aching for more.

It’s never easy to tell a man that you are satisfied, but really what you want is to be worn out. Let’s just say he’s been making it up to me ever since.

He walked into my new apartment and slid his arm around my waist. Looking me up and down he grinned, “You look good all tan.” His voice made me melt and his lips met mine as we stumbled onto my bed. His hands pulled at the white cotton of my robe. I lay on top of the sheets letting him admire my naked body; I rubbed my breasts and leaned my head back stretching out my long neck, inviting him to take a bite.

His lips moved along my neck and down my shoulder. His hands grabbed me firmly and I could see him getting excited. He licked me everywhere and made me lose my mind instantly; the feeling of his tongue was like a drug, I could never get enough.

The Photographer reached into the yellow Babeland shopping bag; pulling out an array of new toys. He began to tease me with the tip of the silicone shaft. I loved that he watched me closely as he slid it all the way inside me, working the toy until I begged him to stop.

He climbed on top of me, holding me down by my wrists; I was already on orgasm No. 2 and the way things were feeling No. 3 & 4 were just around the corner… 

Love Me, Then Leave Me. Please.

For me it has always been very easy to separate sex and emotion. I do not believe that you need to be emotionally connected to the person you are sleeping with in order for the sex to be mind blowing.

I lay in bed breathless; my skin dewy with sweat, my fishnet thigh-high stockings torn. I closed my eyes recalling each detail leading up to my current state of ecstasy. The Firefighter had his arm draped across my chest and I was secretly aching for him to remove it; I have never been one for cuddling.

His hands were strong and he had thrown me around just the way I like. It felt amazing to succumb to him; his grip tightening on my wrists, holding me down while he took me. The Firefighter wanted me to feel every inch and he took me hard so I wouldn’t forget.

Finally when I couldn’t stand it any longer he grabbed my ass and lifted me on top of him. I placed my feet on either side of his head, arched my back and moved slowly. His hands were running up and over my stockings and he teased my inner thighs with his fingertips.   

I was aching to let go and when he began to tease my breasts with his tongue I couldn’t stand another minute.

The Firefighter had been just what I was looking for and as long as he was able to get over this cuddling thing, I was deeply looking forward to taking him again... very soon. 

Black Book Magazine Feature

Check out my first ever interview in Black Book Magazine.