Loading...Part 1
It was almost 7:30 in the evening as I made my way east on West 53rd toward my hotel when the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. I didn’t have an umbrella, of course, because – even though my hotel had complimentary ones – men don’t use umbrellas…so they can get wet…because that makes us cool. But, instead of being cool, I decided to get dry and have a drink.
So, I ducked into a place I was planning on visiting anyways during my stay in New York, The Modern (that is, the restaurant and bar at The Museum of Modern Art).
Luckily, there was an open seat; I took it and immediately ordered my default drink of choice, and the one by which I measured a bar’s credibility. I scanned the gin selection and said to the waiting bartender, “Beefeater martini, semi-dry please, with a lemon twist.”
Having ordered, I took the opportunity to spin in my chair and look around. The bar and dining room were separated by a frosted glass wall. The bar room was clean, and modern in its decor (of course). Besides the long bar at which I sat, the room was filled with small tables, every one of which was occupied; not bad for a Wednesday night, I thought.
While I did take in the ambience, I was also keeping an eye on the preparation of my martini. Things were progressing as they should: chilling the cocktail glass; combining the gin and dry vermouth; adding ice to the mixing glass; stirring (not shaking) the ingredients; and then straining it into the chilled cocktail glass before squeezing the lemon peel over the drink. The taste was as good as the preparation.
“Ah,” I sighed as I downed my first sip.
“You a gin guy?” a female voice to my right asked.
I turned. A girl who looked to be in her early to mid-twenties was typing something on her phone. She had short, dark hair that ended at her chin and high cheekbones that accentuated an angular, almost hard profile that nonetheless retained its femininity. Her ears had three piercings – two silver studs on her lobe and one small, silver loop near the top. She wore a red, short-sleeve top that seemed to fall about six inches above her knees, under which were black jeans or tights – I couldn’t tell without looking more closely, which might have gotten me a slap across the face.
She hadn’t turned to look at me so I almost thought I was hearing things. “I’m sorry,” I said, “did you say something?”
She didn’t look over, still occupied by whatever she was doing on her phone, but she did reply. “Gin,” she said, “you seem to know your gin.”
“Yes,” I replied, taking a sip of my martini, “I do like my gin.”
Still without looking, she grabbed one of the bar menus in front of her and handed it to me. “Then you should order a gin and tonic,” she said, going back to typing on her phone. “It’s their thing.”
I opened the menu and sure enough, half of a page was dedicated to the classic cocktail. You could tailor it to your taste, which I planned on doing as soon as I finished my martini. Curious and in the mood to make conversation, I said, “You don’t strike me as a gin and tonic kind of person.”
She smiled but continued typing. “Are you asking why I like a drink that’s cold, refreshing, and alcoholic?”
“Fair enough,” I replied, “fair enough.”
I went back to my martini and checked Twitter and Facebook on my own phone; she continued to do whatever it was she was doing. As she reached for her own gin and tonic, I noticed the edge of a tattoo under her left sleeve. Since I caught it out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t make out what it was. Finally, finishing my martini, I ordered a gin and tonic. In short, it was fantastic.
“You were right,” I said, “Outstanding.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome.”
She flagged the bartender and pointed to her almost empty glass. Her nails were perfectly manicured with black nail polish.
“This one’s on me,” I said to both the girl and the bartender. “I owe you a round after setting me straight.”
She put her phone down. “Thanks,” she said, drawing the final pull from her glass and setting it away from her bar napkin.
“Cheers,” I said, raising my glass to hers when it arrived.
“Cheers,” she replied, a slight smile on her face.
The girl’s dark eye makeup accentuated her green eyes while her bright red lipstick matched her top. She had a bit of a goth look, but it seemed to suit her.
“I’m Josh,” I said, offering my hand.
She looked at me sideways, again with a hint of a smile. “Elizabeth.” “So, I assume you’re from New York?” I asked.
“Josh? Does your wife approve of you talking to young girls in bars while you’re away on business?” She smiled, then took a sip of her drink.
I must have looked flustered because she smiled again, this time showing teeth.
“We’re separated,” I replied as I fiddled with my wedding band, which I hadn’t yet removed for some reason. “Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to pick you up; I’m just making conversation.”
“Why are you getting a divorce?”
Her question was so unexpected, coming from someone I just met, it took me a moment to answer. “She…she cheated on me; I caught her in a lie and now we’re waiting for the divorce to be finalized.” I had no idea why I told her; it couldn’t have been the alcohol…
“Why did she cheat on you?” she asked. She then covered her mouth and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone, “You suck in bed or something?”
“Ha, ha; very funny…no, I don’t suck in bed!” I was way to defensive, but who the heck did this girl (who was probably half my age) think she was?
“Sorry,” she said putting her hands up, “It’s just, a good looking guy like yourself who obviously has money,” she motioned toward my clothes. “I figured perhaps she cheated on you because…you know…but if I’m mistaken…”
Huh, she thought I was good-looking? I guess there was hope for me after-all. But I digress. It was just nice to get a compliment, even in this context. “She cheated on me,” I said, leaning close to her so the whole world wouldn’t hear our conversation, “because of work. My job requires me to travel a lot. She got tired of me being gone all the time. It would have been nice if she had told me how she felt so we could have worked on it together; but she decided to work on it with someone else.”I took a long pull and asked for another.
“How long were you married?”
“It would have been 15 years next month.”
“How old were you when you married…if you don’t mind me asking?”
Now she’s worried about asking personal questions, I thought.
“I was 28.”
“You look good for 43,” she replied. “You’re almost twice my age!”
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, don’t be a…” She made a square in the air with her two index fingers. “Will you watch my drink? I have to go to the little girls room.”
“Of course,” I replied.
Elizabeth slid off the bar stool and sashayed to the restroom. I say sashayed because when she walked, it was with purpose and attitude. That red top was actually a tunic dress that hugged her slender form over black tights. I caught myself and turned back to the front. When she returned a few minutes later, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Her dress had a black skeleton print on it, which gave the appearance of outlining her skeleton – it fit her perfectly.
Elizabeth smiled as she inched her petite frame back onto the stool. “Were you checking out my skeletal features?”
I felt myself blush. Yes, I was, I thought. “Busted.”
“My ex got it for me; I like it too much to get rid of it.”
“What happened to him?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. I didn’t want to pry, but she was interesting and it was either make conversation over drinks or watch ESPN in my hotel room. I liked the former.
“It’s a familiar story. She cheated on me so I dumped her ass.”
It was my turn to ask (and I couldn’t help myself), “Why did she cheat on someone that…looks like you?” I covered my mouth and leaned over. “Do you suck in bed?”
She punched me in the shoulder. “Very funny. No, I don’t suck in bed!” she replied, “I’m actually quite skilled…no, it’s because she wanted to have a threesome with another girl and I didn’t. I told her I’d consider a threesome with a guy but not another girl. I don’t know why exactly, it’s just how I felt. Whatever.” She waved her hand then took a long sip.
“So, you like guys too?”
“Really, Josh? That’s your takeaway from my story?”
I thought she was upset, but the smile in her eyes said otherwise. “I believe in equal opportunity. Women and men have their pluses and minuses; so I figure why limit myself?”
We clinked our almost empty glasses. She raised her hand to flag the bartender and ordered us another round.
“Last one for me,” I said, “I have to work in the morning.”
“So, you’re loaded,” she started, “travel a lot for your job…you’re in sales?”
“I don’t know if I’m loaded,” I said. “I do alright..anyways, I’m in acquisitions for a tech company. I basically go around the country, find promising products or companies, and try and acquire them for my company. It’s a win-win. They get the resources to make their product or flesh out their ideas; we get the benefit of that product.”
“Ah, capitalism,” she said, a fake, wistful sound in her voice. “So where does a collector of talent stay in the N-Y-C?”
“The Peninsula, off 5th,” I replied.
“Sweet,” she said, taking a sip from her glass.
“What about you?” I asked. “What do you do?”
“I’m a senior at Parsons studying interior design.”
She talked about how she was originally an art major but realized she really loved the marriage of art and the practicality of design and architecture, so she transferred to Parsons her sophomore year.
“Very cool,” I replied. “What are you going to do when you graduate?”
“Hopefully get a job at an architectural firm and get some experience; then we’ll see where I’m at in a couple of years.”
“Now I see why this is one of your hangouts,” I said.
“Yeah, I come here – to the actual museum – a lot; the bar, maybe once every few weeks.”
“Well, I’m glad we met,” I said, finishing my drink and dropping my credit card on the bar.
“Me too,” she replied, “You’re alright for an older guy…see, I didn’t say old; I said older. There’s a difference.”
Once the bill was signed, I stood, put on my sport coat that I had draped on my stool, and asked, “Oh, yeah? What difference?”
Elizabeth got off her stool and stood just a few inches from me; she was at least a half-foot shorter. She looked up and said, “Old is old.” She then smiled, “Older can still be hot.”
I think I blushed again. I also felt a twitch in my pants. “Well…I…thanks, I think.”
“Don’t let your ex-wife fuck you up,” she said as we walked out of the restaurant. It wasn’t raining any longer.
“I’ll try not to,” I said. “I’m this way.”
“I’m this way,” she said pointing in the opposite direction with her chin. “How long you in town?” she asked nonchalantly.
She wasn’t even trying and she was the sexiest thing I had ever seen – sinfully young for a guy my age; perfect skin; petite, tight body; and edgy – I thought she was just playing with me, having some fun with a guy her father’s age but I didn’t care.
“Until Friday morning.”
“Good to know.” She turned and then said over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Joshua.”
I was definitely going to hell for the thoughts I was having. Men at my age shouldn’t be thinking of girls Elizabeth’s age like I was at that moment…but I was, and when I got back to my room I thought of Elizabeth some more, and it was good.
Part 2
It was a little after 4:00 when, after a long morning and working lunch, a preliminary deal had been struck that would get my company a foothold in the connected/smart home space. It was time for a little nap, shower, and a drink.
At 5:30, I awoke from my nap, took a shower, and was in the middle of getting dressed when the hotel phone rang.
“Who would be calling me on that phone?” I said aloud. I answered, “Hello?”
“Finally,” a young woman’s voice said in an exaggerated tone. So, not the front desk, I thought.
“Can I help you?” I asked, confused.
“That’s a little forward, Joshua; let’s see how the evening goes.”
Then it dawned on me – the voice, the snark.”Elizabeth?”
“Who else would it be? You got another hot chick calling on you tonight?”
I tried to pull myself together and wrap my head around this odd conversation. “Nope. Apparently, just the one.”
“Well, are you almost ready? I called the hotel an hour ago and they said you had gotten in not too long before that. I gave you plenty of time; what have you been up to?”
“I took a nap; just got out of the shower.”
“Good,” she said. “Are you almost ready?”
I was standing in my underwear and half-buttoned shirt. “Give me 10 minutes.”
“I’ll be in the restaurant bar.”
When I put the receiver down, it took me a moment for it to settle in. Then, without another thought, I fumbled my way through buttoning my shirt and putting on a pair of dark jeans. Throwing on my sport coat, I checked myself in the mirror. It had been four months since I had found out about my wife’s affair; almost five months since I’d last had sex (with my wife). My curiosity was officially piqued. “I don’t know what’s going on,” I said to my reflection, “but go with it.”
When I got to the hotel restaurant’s bar, there were a few people gathered for cocktails, but only one stood out. Sitting cross-legged at the bar was Elizabeth. She wore thick black stilettos, skin-tight capris with thick black and white pinstripes, and a black top that, upon further inspection when I got closer, had a little “peek-a-boo” window that showed off her cleavage. She again wore heavy eye makeup and bright red lipstick that made her beautiful eyes and full lips pop.
“Wow,” was all I could muster as I came up alongside her.
“Thanks,” she said. “Here.” She pushed a cocktail glass toward me. “I ordered you a martini – just how you like it.”
I took a sip. “Thank you. I had no idea you were going to call; I would have made dinner reservations.”
“No need,” she replied, “I made us a reservation at The Modern last night for 7:30.”
“Well, aren’t you the forward thinker. Stay here for another drink or two and then head over?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, taking a healthy sip of her cocktail. “So,” she started, “did you make a truck-load of money today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” I replied, clinking my glass with hers.
“Then we should definitely celebrate.”
We ordered another round, and after we finished, walked to The Modern. It was only 7:10 when we arrived.
“Another drink or…” Elizabeth took my hand.
“There’s something we need to do that will help make dinner more…relaxing.”
She pulled me into the restroom, which I noticed was unisex. There was a row of sinks and vanity mirrors along the left wall; on the right was a row of fully-enclosed (floor to ceiling) stalls for privacy. A woman was at one of the vanities touching up her makeup. Elizabeth motioned for me to go in one of the stalls as she went to a mirror. Confused, though not completely clueless, my heart began racing in my chest. What exactly did this little vixen have in mind?
A moment later, I heard a door open and close, then the door to my “stall” opened. Elizabeth quickly got in, then closed and locked the door behind her. I was about to say something when she put her hand on my mouth. She smelled like vanilla.
“Shhh,” she mouthed.
She took me by the arms and turned us around so that my back was to the door. I couldn’t help it, but my cock instantly became hard in my pants. I wanted her so badly, I wasn’t sure what to do. She was.Pulling my head down to her, she kissed me with a hunger I hadn’t felt in a long time. Her desire couldn’t be faked, and as she reached for the bulge in my jeans, she moaned, then whispered in my ear, “You want me?”
“Yes,” I croaked.
“After dinner,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to rush through dinner so…” She unbuckled my belt, unfastened my jeans, and sat on the lid to the toilet. “…I’m going to ease your suffering.”
Elizabeth pulled my jeans down to my knees. “Did you jerk off last night thinking about me?”
I nodded.
She put her mouth around my shaft, which was still behind the thin cotton of my boxer briefs. I could feel the heat from her breath. “Mmmm,” she moaned, then bit me just hard enough. Fuck, she was making me insane!
Elizabeth unbuttoned the bottom of my shirt and pulled up my undershirt, her hands hot against my skin. She ran her nails down my chest and belly, leaving a trail of scratches in their wake, then continued her motion as she pulled down my underwear. She looked up at me, smiled, then took the engorged head of my manhood between her lips, sucking me into her mouth.It felt so damn good. “Fuck!” I hissed.
She motioned for me to be quiet as we heard someone come into the restroom. That didn’t stop her from taking me back into her mouth, deeper this time, then licking the underside of my cock as she ran her lips along my stiff shaft. I couldn’t believe I was getting a blowjob by a beautiful coed in the Museum of Modern Art!
Elizabeth licked my balls, taking them into her warm mouth, and sucking them in rhythm with her hand stroking my dick. It felt so incredible, I couldn’t remember being so turned on. As she took me deep, she reached up with both hands and played with my nipples, causing them to instantly get hard. How did she know I loved that? She moaned softly, seemingly in response, causing me to get goosebumps all over my skin. I badly wanted to grab her and take her right there, but I knew it would be worth the wait to do it back at the hotel.
She listened for a moment, and when she thought no one was in there with us, she whispered, “Fuck my mouth. I want to feel you banging the back of my throat with that big dick.”
Jesus, I had died and gone to heaven. Without a word, I placed one hand on the back of her head and the other under her chin. Slipping my cock between her beautiful lips, I proceeded to fuck her for all I was worth. Her throat made that incredible gagging sound as she took it all, her arms out, bracing herself against the walls of the stall. I was starting to lose control, and I think she wanted me to; but I wanted her to finish me. I didn’t want to use her mouth; I wanted her to make me come like my wife hadn’t in so long. Before I reached the point of no return, I stopped, caressed her cheek. The look on her face told me she knew what I wanted.
Taking control again, Elizabeth stroked me as she sucked me hard, her hand twisting over the engorged head each time, making me race toward orgasm. She looked up at me as I felt my body hum with anticipation, my fingers tingling with each stroke of her magnificent mouth. It took all of my willpower not to yell out as I felt my manhood swell in her mouth. Elizabeth slowed her rhythm and deepened her stroke, still looking up at me with those green eyes.
I grunted involuntarily and felt my knees buckle as I exploded. She took all of it, her eyes fixed on mine. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. I felt her swallow my load as she continued to suck me off, squeezing every last drop out of me. When she was satisfied that I was completely drained, she licked me clean, pulled up my pants, and maneuvered herself so that she could unlock the door. When the coast was clear, she stepped out and I followed behind her.
Elizabeth pulled out a travel sized mouthwash from her purse and gargled; she then fixed her makeup and washed her hands. “I’m hungry. You?”
“Fuck me,” I said, bewildered and amazed.
“After we eat,” she replied with a smile.
Overcome with desire, I pulled her to me and kissed her softly but deeply, as if I would suffocate without her lips on mine. She moaned into my mouth and wrapped her arms around me as I lifted her off the ground, pulling her to me.
I knew we should probably go as it was now a little past 7:30 so I set her down. “Sorry about that; I couldn’t help myself.”
“The sooner we eat,” she said, “the sooner we get back to the hotel.”
Once we ordered our food and the wine started flowing, we allowed ourselves to enjoy the evening. The meal was quite good and the wine a superb compliment. We talked about our interests – my love for the art of the cocktail, travel, and American history; her love of fashion, design, and hockey. Yes, hockey.
“My dad used to bring me and my brother to games. There was an AHL team close to where we lived, so we went all the time. Once a year we went into the city to see the Rangers; those were special.” Her tough exterior melted away as she spoke.
“Do you still catch games with your dad?”
She nodded. “When I go home for the holidays. We haven’t seen a Rangers game since I’ve been in college though.”
During dessert she asked, “Do you miss her?”
I took a sip of the port I had ordered. “Sometimes,” I said. “Not since I met you.” I wanted to ask her something but I didn’t know how or even if I should.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Why?…You could be with any man you want. Why me?”
She smiled, then leaned over the table. “Because you talk to me like a woman; you treat me like an equal; and…I like that you’re a real man, and successful.” She waited a moment, then added, “…and you’re really good-looking. I may not be completely shallow but I’m also not into charity. You’re hot, and the fact that you don’t think so just makes me want to jump your bones even more…so pay the check so we can get back to your hotel room. It’s my turn!”
I paid the check and we walked swiftly back to the Peninsula. There was an older couple waiting by the elevator when we arrived. The four of us got in and I cursed myself for being on the 15th floor as the ride up seemed to take forever. I could feel the heat of Elizabeth’s body next to mine. I reached for her, the backs of our hands touching; she responded by interlacing our fingers. When I allowed myself to think about it, I was taken aback by how easily we seemed to fall in place. The other couple got off on the eighth floor, leaving us with another seven.
When we finally reached my floor, I pulled Elizabeth out of the elevator and down to my room, which was near the end of the hall. I fumbled with the key card, my hands shaking with excitement. When I finally did get the door open, Elizabeth jumped into my arms and straddled me with her legs. I closed the door behind us and placed her back against the nearby wall as I crushed her mouth with mine.
“It’s my turn, right?” she asked in a hushed voice in between kisses.
“It’s your turn,” I said, slowly lifting her blouse over her head.
I don’t know how to put it into words, but I’ll try. The first thing I noticed was how tight and fit her body was – her arms were thin but toned; her tummy flat; her breasts, which were still covered by a black lace bra, small but I could tell, perfectly shaped. The hint of a tattoo I had noticed on her left shoulder the day before was in fact a small New York Rangers logo. On her right shoulder was a tattoo of an American flag, almost like one you would find on a military uniform. I traced it with my fingers.
“My brother,” she said. “He’s in the Army.”
I bent down and kissed her shoulder. Her skin felt so amazing on my lips – soft, warm, and perfect. I inhaled deeply.
“What are you doing?” she giggled.
“You smell so good,” I said, taking in her vanilla scent.
I kissed her neck and noticed a small tattoo of a heart with the letter R at its center.
“My first love…and first tattoo.”
Along her left side were interwoven flowers that looked Japanese; it started below her waistline along her left front and delicately traveled halfway up her side. I licked and kissed her, following the flowers down her body, her little moans driving me crazy. Sitting now on the foot stool near the bed, I unfastened her capris and slowly pulled them down over her hips, tight little butt, and slender legs. Elizabeth was wearing black boy shorts that barely covered her, yet accentuated the slight curves of her body beautifully. Wrapped around her right, upper thigh was perhaps her coolest tattoo – a pistol tucked into a garter belt.
I stood and kissed her on the lips again, reaching around and unhooking her bra. Elizabeth covered her breasts with her hands as if all of a sudden self-conscious about her body. In that moment, she wasn’t the confident woman I’d come to know, but a girl naked in front of a lover for the first time, hoping he liked what he saw. I placed my hands over hers, then slowly moved them down to her side. Her breasts were pert and beautifully shaped. The nipples were pierced with small, steel barbells. I could see the insecurity in her eyes, so I told her the truth.
“You are the hottest woman I’ve ever known,” I said, meaning every last syllable.
Elizabeth read in my eyes that I meant what I said and she seemed to relax. Her eyes locked on mine, she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slid them off, letting them drop noiselessly to the floor.
“Fuck.” I said, as I took in the sight of her naked body.
“No more talking,” she said as she sat back on the bed, her knees automatically spreading with the motion.
Her pussy was completely bald, her small sex resembling a beautiful flower. She was wet and her lips were puffy. I followed her to the bed and kissed her inner thighs, licking the crease where her leg ended and her butt began.
“Feels good,” she cooed.
I licked up along the outside of her lips as she shifted her hips in response, moaning softly.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, lightly licking up her moist slit, causing her to wiggle.
“Tickles…again,” she said like a little girl asking to be thrown up in the air.
I did it again, tasting her sweet, musky sex. I patiently licked the outside of her pussy, making myself stay clear of her clit for the time being. When I dipped my tongue just inside, she shuddered, her pelvis gyrating against me. Finally spreading her open, I lightly circled her button with my tongue, her hips moving to the rhythm I set.
“Oh,” she murmured, “oh, ooooh…”
Her restless body squirmed against my tongue, trying to get me to go faster. Alternating between licking just inside her tasty pussy and circling her clit with ever increasing pressure, I could sense Elizabeth was close to coming.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, “oh, fuck oh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”
Her body rose off the bed as she clenched the bed sheets in her fists. I licked her clit lightly but as quickly as I could, then went back to circling around her sensitive button, hoping to take her over the edge again.
“Oh, God damn motherfucker! Don’t stop,” she grunted in a hoarse voice I could barely recognize as hers.
I continued the same motion, sticking with what was working, Elizabeth’s thighs involuntarily (I think) smothered me as she rode another wave of pleasure, moaning loudly now, not a care in the world about our neighbors. When she came down from her latest wave, she lightly pushed my head away. “Too sensitive…need a break.”
Crawling to her knees, Elizabeth grabbed my shirt and yanked it off, then deftly got my pants off so quickly, she had me on my back in seconds, my hard cock poised at her entrance.
“I can’t wait anymore,” she said as she took hold me and eased herself down.It was the most sublime feeling I’d ever experienced (up to that point).
“Fuck!” I hissed.
I grabbed her hips and pulled her all the way down until our bodies kissed. She was so hot and tight – between the long time since I had last had sex, getting her off earlier, and now the tight wetness of her pussy – I was a ticking time bomb. She took my hands from her hips and pinned them over my head as she ground her hips against me, using me for her own pleasure.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” she moaned with each gyration of her hips.
I never felt such absolute lust. I needed to fuck her, so I broke free from her hold, wrapped my left arm around her back to pull her to me while my right hand grabbed onto her tight ass. I then thrust up into her with such abandon she later told me it literally took her breath away. Our bodies smacking against each other in a fast, hard rhythm, I took her head in my hands and kissed her as I felt every inch of my body and spirit commit to this one act.
She leaned over and whispered, “Come inside me.”
I held her tight to my body as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I had never been one to make a lot of noise during sex, but when I orgasmed, it was like nothing I had experienced in my life. I couldn’t help but yell out as I felt myself come deep inside her again and again; even after I stopped ejaculating, the waves just kept coming. I held onto her as I lost myself in the moment.
When I was finally done, Elizabeth collapsed on top of me and I kissed her on the forehead.It took me a second to realize it, but…”
Fuck, I’m still hard for you.”
Before she could say anything, I took hold of her and flipped her on her back. “You want to fuck me again?” she asked rhetorically.
Elizabeth’s legs instinctively wrapped around my lower back as I sunk into her to the hilt. She moaned into my mouth, her sex making squishing sounds from the mix of our juices; it felt so fucking good, I surged into her long and deep as she moaned softly. Leaning back on my knees to change the angle, I brought her toned legs onto shoulders then leaned over her as I took her as deep as I could. The angle was obviously good for her because her voice dropped to a low groan with each deep thrust, her mouth agape in ecstasy. I could feel the walls of her pussy suck me back in each time I pulled away; it was amazing. We were both so close, I angled myself a little higher on her body in an effort to hit her g-spot, as I thrust up and into her.
“Oh, God…so good…fuck…fuck.”
Elizabeth moaned into my shoulder as she scratched my back with her fingernails. Her legs clamped down on me as her orgasm took hold; her vice-like grip sent me over the edge one last time. It wasn’t quite like the first one, but it was still earth-shattering by any normal standard. When I fell to my side, I held Elizabeth close to ensure I didn’t leave her body; I wanted to stay inside her for as long as I could. Brushing her hair away from her dampened forehead, I kissed her – softly, lovingly, in stark contrast to what had just transpired.
Elizabeth looked into my eyes, smiled, and said, “So, you’re staying in New York then?”
Part 3
The thing about coming back to the room after dinner and screwing our brains out was, among other things, we forgot to close the blinds. The warm sun on my face, I woke up with Elizabeth’s arm resting on my chest. I wanted to stay right where I was, but I had to answer nature’s call. As I stumbled back to the bed, I noticed the it was 6:15; 45 minutes before I needed to get ready.
I crawled back under the covers and Elizabeth settled her body next to mind, our bodies meshing together as one. The sensation of her soft skin touching mine was all it took for my manhood to stir, as it pressed against her tight ass, our underwear the only thing between us. I placed my hand on her bare leg, slowly gliding up toward the curve of her perfect little butt. I kissed her softly on the back of the neck and shoulder as she sighed, slowly grinding into me.
I let my hand travel up her leg, her arm, to her breasts, squeezing them in my hand. The warm glow of the sun through the window radiating across the white sheets of the bed and Elizabeth’s beautiful skin made for an erotic sight that left me hard and ready to make love to her one last time.I pulled away for a moment to remove my boxer briefs; Elizabeth whimpered as our bodies lost contact. When she felt my hard shaft press against her, she moaned her approval. I let my hand fall between her legs as she opened her knees slightly to allow me access. Slipping my hand under the waistband of her panties, I felt the heat between her legs as I moved my hand in a slow, circular rhythm.
Elizabeth exhaled in short breaths in response to my touch, then turned her head so she could kiss me. I slowly increased my tempo, holding her close to me we kissed. I knew this would probably be the last time we would ever be together. This girl half my age was more woman than most anyone I’d ever met. She had reminded me what it was like to be desired, and to want someone so much it hurt to be apart from them, as I knew it would to be apart from her.
As I continued my steady rhythm, I could feel the evidence of her arousal. She pushed her ass against me, my cock wedged in the crack of her tight ass. With my free hand, I pulled my boxer briefs down to my ankles and kicked them off. She exhaled in a short, audible breath when she felt my bare body against her.While I continued to jerk her off, Elizabeth pushed her panties down and out of the way and spread her knees for me. My cock naturally went between her legs and slipped effortlessly past her tight entrance.
“Ugh,” she sighed as I slipped inside.
I circled my fingers on her clit faster and faster as I felt her body wrap around my cock, as I took her from behind – gently, slowly – wanting her to feel every inch.
“Oh,” she shuddered, “Oh, oh, oh…” she moaned as she shivered against my hand’s rhythm and the pressure of my cock buried deep inside her.
I knew I wasn’t going to last long in this position, fucking her amazing pussy from behind, feeling my manhood stretch her cunt with every thrust. Elizabeth breaths became more shallow and faltered as little, high pitched moans of ecstasy escaped her lips; she shuddered violently in my arms as I held her tight, then groaned loudly when I wrapped my arms around her and increased the pace of my manhood thrusting in and out of her body.
Elizabeth reached back with one arm to pull me to her as I surged into her, deep and steady. I let myself go, giving into the sensation of fucking her. I was holding her so tight, I thought I would crush her. She orgasmed again, almost silently relative to some of her other ones we’d shared, but it seemed just as powerful as her body shuddered and convulsed in my arms. When I came, every sensation was heightened – Elizabeth’s warm, bare skin against mine; her soft lips; my hand on her breasts, her nipples hard against my skin; her hand holding me tight against her; my cock spasming inside her hot, tight body.I stayed inside her, relishing the feeling of our bodies together as one, as I kissed her neck, shoulders, arms – anywhere I could reach. I wanted to imprint this moment, her, in my mind.
“Good morning,” she said, kissing me on the lips.
“Good morning,” I replied.
“Are you sure you can’t stay an extra day or five?”
I chucked, “I wish I could…I might be back sometime next month,” I said with an optimistic tone.
“Hmmm,” she replied, “I might be able to fit you into my schedule. Have your people call me people.”
Elizabeth was so unlike any woman I’d ever been with or been attracted to; what was it about her that drove me so crazy and ensured that I would call her as soon as I knew when I would be back in New York?
As if reading the question on my face, she replied, “It’s the tattoos,” she replied. “You like bad girls; it’s just taken you a while to figure that out…and I’m really hot.”
“Yes, you are,” I replied. “Yes, you are.”