“This guy eats my pussy just like you do.”
“Which guy?” I texted back.
“The guy eating my pussy.”
“Why are you texting me during?”
“I couldn’t wait. Plus, he’s totally lost down there. He hasn’t noticed.”
“Do you text when I’m doing that?”
“Almost never.”
“Try not to call him my name.”
“Toooooo late….”
GNY
©2011 The Dirty Gentleman (#383)
Freight elevators are almost ideal for mid-day blow jobs.
“Are you guys fucking in there?”
Shit. The stall was locked, and the hotel bathroom was far from anything, but someone found us anyway. How do you answer that question? Just an honest yes? Say nothing at all? Ask for a towel?
“Um, yeah,” my friend replied in a quiet voice. I held her there against the wall, my cock still inside her and her legs wrapped around my body. The pause was too long to be comfortable.
“Can I come in?”
It was almost a whisper, and there was enough breath in it that I reached over and unlatched the door without thinking. We stared as she entered the stall, watching her lean against the black tile. She looked us up and down and her eyes were wide with excitement. When she lifted her skirt and slipped two fingers beneath the thin fabric covering her cunt I started to move again. My partner bit my neck, but I could tell what she was watching.
“Fuck her harder,” came the quiet moan from behind me.
My nails pressed into her ass when I pulled her to me, and she wrapped her arms around me. I lifted her up and dropped her back down onto my cock without pause, and I could hear soft moans from behind us. She whispered her direction over and over again, and I obeyed with more enthusiasm than skill.
Her moans grew louder as my thrusts grew quicker, and I could feel my body losing control. I wanted to turn and look, and I wanted to kneel at her perfect feet. I wanted to come and I wanted to watch. I wanted everything all at once.
“I’m coming,” slipped from two mouths at the same time, and the air in the room was sucked out in seconds. I struggled to stand as we fucked, but when I finally opened my eyes minutes later we were alone again. The door was closed but unlocked, and my date was limp in my arms.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off her cunt.”
“I couldn’t take my ears off her moans.”
“I wanted to keep her.”
I lifted her up and stood her in front of me as we adjusted our clothes and hair. I opened my mouth to say something smart, but closed it before I let out a sound. We walked out into the dark bathroom and washed our hands in silence.
It took me minutes to see the lipstick writing on the mirror. It was almost too delicate to be real, but there were ten numbers in a row followed by two words: thank you.
Guy New York
“Sometimes I think Columbia women are the least fetishized girls in New York.”
“That’s true. I would never write about a Columbia woman.”
“You write about me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t say where you went to school. I mean if you went to NYU that would be one thing. Even Barnard would be sexier. And don’t get me started on FIT. I could fetishize the shit out of an FIT student.”
“I could read The Use of Pleasure by Foucault to you. That’s nerdy sexy right?”
“If you went to NYU you’d just suck my cock.”
“And Barnard?”
“Then you’d just my cock and call me Daddy.”
“What about FIT?”
“You’d suck my cock, call me Daddy, and stick a finger up my ass to make me come.”
“I don’t think we had that class at Columbia.”
“I suppose there’s one thing we could do.”
“What’s that?”
“You could always call me Professor.”
“That would be highly inappropriate. Professor.”
“Wouldn’t it though?”
“How come you don’t sit naked in the window drinking coffee while you watch the snow fall? Like in the pictures.”
“How come you don’t drink scotch in a suit and tie while sitting on a leather chair with your big cock hanging out? You know. Like in the pictures.”
We stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch, and neither one of us blinked. Her flannel pajamas had kittens on them, and my fuzzy red bathrobe was frayed on the bottom. We drank coffee from chipped mugs and our toes touched in the middle as we stared each other down.
“Are we getting old?” I asked.
“Is it the kittens?”
“I was thinking because we’re up at 8am drinking coffee on the couch.”
She put her mug down before leaning over and crawling up onto my lap. She pushed my knees open, and I pulled her into my arms.
“Would you feel better if we turned on cartoons and made hot chocolate?”
Her hand slipped beneath the elastic of my pajamas and pressed against my cock. She rolled her palm over me, squeezing and teasing as I grew harder; I pushed her own pajamas down to her knees before digging my fingers into her ass. She kicked them off as she moved up my body and seconds later we both watched as she rubbed against me.
“I think the coffee might be okay.”
With just a twist of her hips I was inside her, and she kissed my mouth as I sat up. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer. I opened the buttons to her top one at a time, and I would have sworn it was the first time I saw her breasts. My mouth was instantly between them and on them as she rolled her hips faster, and I wanted to come inside her and fuck her forever at the same time.
“Take me back to bed.”
She was standing before I could stop her, and we left my robe and her kittens on the couch. She fell down on to her back with a laugh, and I growled as I pried her knees apart. She gasped when I slid back inside her, but she was still smiling when she kissed me.
“Do you feel old now?” she whispered.
“I feel like the cutest fucking couple in the world. You know. Like in the pictures.”
