©2012 by The Dirty Gentleman (#599)

I don’t know how to describe the feeling of complete adoration—knee bending, mouth opening devotion—without it sounding like I’m giving something away.

Worship has its own meaning that’s been confused enough without my input. Prayer has a whole discourse that doesn’t need me. Sacrifice demands a religiosity that isn’t in my nature, and an offering doesn’t come close to describing how I feel.

So let’s pretend I love her as a person who requires me to remain whole. Let’s say that we engulf each other while remaining apart, and let’s suggest that even when we fuck ourselves into unconsciousness we demand an awakening that doesn’t want explanation.

Let’s say we love and leave it at that.

©2012 by The Dirty Gentleman (#599)

I don’t know how to describe the feeling of complete adoration—knee bending, mouth opening devotion—without it sounding like I’m giving something away.

Worship has its own meaning that’s been confused enough without my input. Prayer has a whole discourse that doesn’t need me. Sacrifice demands a religiosity that isn’t in my nature, and an offering doesn’t come close to describing how I feel.

So let’s pretend I love her as a person who requires me to remain whole. Let’s say that we engulf each other while remaining apart, and let’s suggest that even when we fuck ourselves into unconsciousness we demand an awakening that doesn’t want explanation.

Let’s say we love and leave it at that.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#568)
“Would you have sucked his cock?”
She was quivering on my knee as she tried to speak, but somehow the words didn’t come. I slipped her panties down over the curve of her ass until they rested on her knees, and I rested the palm of my hand against her warm skin.
“Do I need to ask you again?”
“No,” she whispered.
“No, I don’t need to ask, or no you wouldn’t have sucked his dick?”
“The first one,” she said even quieter.
My hand came down without warning. I moved between her ass and her thighs, listening to the sound with great interest. The deeper the sound the more power, but the higher the notes the more sting she would feel. In between the seventh and eighth I pushed two fingers inside her to find her as wet as she got. I had no idea if it was my hand or my words that drove her there. Possibly it was his cock.
“Tell me what you need.”
“I need you to fuck me,” she cried between powerful strokes of my open palm.
“And why is that?” I asked.
She was silent as the next few blows fell, but her body moved up to meet me even as her groans grew louder. Her thighs no longer touched, and her hips had a mind of their own. She tried to look up at me as I held her over my lap and her breath was hypnotic.
“Please,” she said.
“Please what? Tell me what you need.”
“Please fuck me so it goes away. Please make me come so I don’t think about anything but your cock.”
I pushed her off my lap and stood up next to the bed. She rolled onto her back and covered her eyes with her arm. For the briefest moment I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. Instead, I opened her thighs as I climbed between them. I let the back of my hand fall against her flesh six times before I pressed my cock against her, and it wasn’t until she begged that I fucked her.
“Do you forgive me?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, before covering her mouth and closing my eyes.


Guy New York

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#568)

“Would you have sucked his cock?”

She was quivering on my knee as she tried to speak, but somehow the words didn’t come. I slipped her panties down over the curve of her ass until they rested on her knees, and I rested the palm of my hand against her warm skin.

“Do I need to ask you again?”

“No,” she whispered.

“No, I don’t need to ask, or no you wouldn’t have sucked his dick?”

“The first one,” she said even quieter.

My hand came down without warning. I moved between her ass and her thighs, listening to the sound with great interest. The deeper the sound the more power, but the higher the notes the more sting she would feel. In between the seventh and eighth I pushed two fingers inside her to find her as wet as she got. I had no idea if it was my hand or my words that drove her there. Possibly it was his cock.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” she cried between powerful strokes of my open palm.

“And why is that?” I asked.

She was silent as the next few blows fell, but her body moved up to meet me even as her groans grew louder. Her thighs no longer touched, and her hips had a mind of their own. She tried to look up at me as I held her over my lap and her breath was hypnotic.

“Please,” she said.

“Please what? Tell me what you need.”

“Please fuck me so it goes away. Please make me come so I don’t think about anything but your cock.”

I pushed her off my lap and stood up next to the bed. She rolled onto her back and covered her eyes with her arm. For the briefest moment I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. Instead, I opened her thighs as I climbed between them. I let the back of my hand fall against her flesh six times before I pressed my cock against her, and it wasn’t until she begged that I fucked her.

“Do you forgive me?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, before covering her mouth and closing my eyes.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#535)
The window in my office is one of my favorite sex toys.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#535)

The window in my office is one of my favorite sex toys.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#512)
©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#471)
The lovely and talented Miss Ginger Millay.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#471)

The lovely and talented Miss Ginger Millay.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#468)
I miss the sound of her counting.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#468)

I miss the sound of her counting.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#463)
©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#461)
Whisky, suits, and a threesome. It’s sort of the perfect weekend.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#461)

Whisky, suits, and a threesome. It’s sort of the perfect weekend.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#456)
The Spartan and Miss Ginger Millay. A match made in… I don’t know. Somewhere painful.

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#456)

The Spartan and Miss Ginger Millay. A match made in… I don’t know. Somewhere painful.

Miss Ginger Millay / ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#454)
She went back and forth between growling and grinning as she pulled him closer with his tie. 

Miss Ginger Millay / ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#454)

She went back and forth between growling and grinning as she pulled him closer with his tie. 

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#450)
I think Miss Ginger Millay needs to come by the office more often. 

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#450)

I think Miss Ginger Millay needs to come by the office more often. 

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#446)
Well, I’m going out to get drunk with some friends/partners/lovers/strangers etc. Happy my birthday to you all!

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#446)

Well, I’m going out to get drunk with some friends/partners/lovers/strangers etc. Happy my birthday to you all!

Miss Ginger Millay / ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#444)

At first he didn’t quite take her at her word. She changed that rather quickly.

Miss Ginger Millay / ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#443)