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I arrived in New York late. You name it, and it had gone wrong in LA. Late equipment, long lines at Security, not enough gate agents, limited visibility….all the usual excuses the airlines give when they can’t do their fucking job!
By the time I reached my hotel, it was almost midnight. I was tired and hungry (I refuse to eat airline food no matter what) and of course, the kitchen was closed. After I dropped my bags, I raced out to find the closest open restaurant for some food and drink. Midtown seemed deserted and rather than wander around hoping for some luck, I hailed a cab and headed downtown where I knew I could find plenty of options.
I settled on a great late night place where I could get some fantastic sashimi and a strong martini. Of course, it was crowded. The night was just beginning for this crowd so; I ended up at the bar with my Toro and my vodka. I gulped the first martini like a drowning man gulps air. As I waited for the second and my dinner, the seat next to me was occupied by a very attractive woman dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt that she must have stolen from her baby sister and bright orange flip flops. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely and she wore little make up. Everything about her was my type including the tattoo on her left foot. It appeared to be a “Rain Forest” frog leaping across her instep and was obviously done by a real artist. What a coincidence. I must have been staring because I looked up and she was giving me that NY look that says WTF?
“Ah, sorry, it’s just, ah your frog,” I stammered.
“OH!” She seemed relieved and smiled.
Now I was totally fucked because her smile completely undid me. It lit her whole face up and I felt mine getting warm.
“Do you like tattoos?” She asked.
“Yeah, I have one on my back but it’s not as colorful as yours.”
“What’s it of?” She asked putting me at ease again.
“Well, I’m not sure I know you well enough for that yet.” I said trying (and failing) to be cool.
A look of doubt crossed her face like a cloud and I rushed to diffuse my idiocy.
“Just kidding,” I continued. “It’s a hand print. Nothing special to look at but it has some meaning for me so what the hell.”
Our conversation continued and I was really enjoying her company. I had kind of lost track of time when I started to order us another round,
“No no,” she said, shaking her head at the bartender.
Turning back to me, she continued, “you’re not allowed to have another martini and I’m sick of drinking here. It’s too loud and the booze is overpriced. I live a Samsun Escort few blocks from here and after you walk me home, I’ll make you a perfect espresso while you tell me all about living in LA.”
Stunned as I was at my incredible good fortune, I practically leapt over the bar and tackled the bartender to pay the check. We were out the door in a flash, enjoying the early summer night in Manhattan.
I have no clue how long we walked or where we were I was fixated on her and what might happen when we got to her apartment. As is typical in NYC, it was very small but she had done a nice job of keeping it cleanly decorated and it felt bigger than it actually was. Not waiting for an espresso, I moved closer to her only to feel her hand on my chest.
“Sorry big boy, no touching, at least not tonight.”
I was crushed!
My face must have drained of color because she laughed and said, “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of fun, you’ll just have to do things my way.”
She directed me to sit on the sofa and I watched her set the stage. First she put on some great music (European jazz; not that elevator shit that passes for jazz in this country), this stuff took chances) then lit a few candles. Instead of espresso, she gave me a small glass of very cold, very good sake and poured one for herself too. Then she took a seat across from me, kicked off her flip-flops and put her feet up on the coffee table. Reaching into a small wooden box, she produced a beautiful little joint and fired it up. It smelled of grapefruit and was incredible.
“Tell me,” she began as she passed the joint to me, “Do you like to watch?”
“Um, sure, I guess,” was all I could come up with.
“Well, we’re going to play a little game if you’re up for it”
She took a long pull on the joint, stood and wriggled herself out of the t-shirt. Her body was magnificent. High firm breasts topped by Hershey Kiss nipples and a flat stomach that reflected how she cared for herself. But, best of all was the tattoo that crept from her waistband and bloomed across her right side. It was a continuation of the Rain Forest theme and there were plants and birds and reptiles all intertwined in a colorful splendor. I was dumbstruck again and stared at her while she took her seat and began to run her hands lightly across her perfect form.
“Mmmmmm,” she purred. “That feels soooo nice! Why don’t you join me?”
I looked confused. Should I go to her? She had said no touching but…..
She frowned again and said “take YOUR shirt off, silly.”
Now Samsun Escort Bayan I got it. I stood and slowly unbuttoned my shirt all the while watching her eyes. She would occasionally glance up at me but she was primarily fixated on my fingers slowly revealing my chest. I keep my self in good shape and while I don’t look like a fitness model, I look pretty good naked. I knew that as I pulled the shirt off my shoulders, the muscles in my chest and arms would wriggle beneath my LA tan. She obviously approved as her hands traced their way to her now hard nipples, pulling and pinching them with delight. I started to sit down but she stopped me.
Making a spinning motion with her finger, all she said was, “ink.”
I turned to show her my strong back in the center of which, over my left shoulder blade was a handprint.
“I like it”
“Thanks,” I said as I took my seat.
Her left hand continued to tug and twist at her right nipple while she used her right hand to unbutton the top of her jeans. Looking into my eyes, she slowly pulled the zipper down and pulled the denim aside to expose the top of a black thong. I’d like to say it was all sexy and lacey but it really looked more athletic and comfortable. Regardless, her left hand dove inside her pants cupping her panty-clad mound. My cock was now aching to get out of my pants. I reached down and gave it a squeeze, which made her smile in an evil way.
“I want to see it.”
Her breath was coming faster now and her hand was now rubbing her pussy through, I assumed by the scent, a very damp pair of panties.
“You’ll have to ask nicer than that,” I said in a low half whisper.
She tossed her head back and pulled on the panties. “OK, please, let me see your cock”‘, she said with a glint of sarcasm in her voice (so sexy).
I stood again and unbuttoned the top of my jeans and, button-by-button; continued to expose myself to her. I rarely wear underwear with jeans and this was no exception. When she caught the top of my pubic hair her eyes lit up when she saw my other tat, a little coral snake crawling through my thatch of pubes. She licked her lips and stared intently as each button brought her closer to what she wanted.
“Somebody didn’t tell the truth”, she uttered in a gravely voice.
“Telling a stranger at a bar that you have a snake in your pubes tends to be a conversation stopper.” I said eliciting a throaty laugh from her.
When all the buttons were open, my pants stayed up held in place by the hardness Escort Samsun of my cock. I removed my hands and stood there.
“Oh God, don’t be an asshole; please….”
I reached in and pushed my cock down releasing the tension and down they went. As the pants descended, I let my cock pop up and bounce a bit. A scene that made her smile lustily. My cock was about as hard as it gets, standing straight out and leaking a bit of precum. I stared at her hand moving wildly over her pussy and began to stroke it very slowly.
I sat back down across from her and gave her a nod that said, ‘your turn.’ She stood and wriggled out of her jeans turning slightly to show me her perfect, hard ass. I had to stop stroking my cock for fear of cumming. While her back was to me she bent and slowly peeled off the thong. As it crossed her knees, I caught a glimpse of her pussy and I gasped. She, knowing exactly what she was doing, didn’t even turn around. Instead, she snapped back up, her hair flying over her strong shoulders and reaching to mid back. Her hands reached for the top of her thighs and slowly stroked their way up her buttocks disappearing from my sight as they snaked around and (I assumed grabbed her breasts again). It was my turn to plead.
“Now who’s being the asshole?”
She snickered at me and looked back into my eyes in the most seductive manner. Not stroking my cock was NOT possible and I spit into my hand and got busy. Spinning around slowly, she revealed the rest of her gorgeous body. That tattoo that I glimpsed earlier came into view and had me mesmerized. It was one of the most unique things I had ever seen, the vines and brightly colored creatures curling around her hip and upper thigh. Truly magnificent. Turning to face me, her eyes locked on my cock and mine zeroed in on her neatly trimmed pussy.
We both knew this was a downhill slope to orgasm and there was no wasted time. Seated opposite me again, she spread her legs and went after that pussy like an AYCE buffet: with both hands. Her right hand danced across her clit like a maestro while her left pounded deep inside her like a jackhammer. I matched her tempo and tried to look at her eyes; when they were open. As her orgasm approached, I picked up speed on my cock and, in my deepest voice, encouraged her.
“Yes baby, that’s it, get it.”
She moaned and her breathing became very shallow.
“I want to see you cum.”
She began to quiver.
“Look at me!”
She did as cum shot out of my cock splattering my stomach. She came instantly, her orgasm building upon itself, starting as a slow pulse and ending with soul shaking convulsions. When it really took hold, she lost eye contact. Hell, I thought she might lose consciousness. When it was over, she looked up at me and smiled the same smile I had first seen at the bar.
I could only laugh…
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