Schillers, Oysters, and Poly Bliss

The bartenders at Schillers pour some of the best Manhattans around. They add a splash of Grand Marnier which gives a taste of citrus but somehow doesn’t make it overly sweet. I only drank about half of mine before my boyfriend showed up, and I quickly ordered him one as well. He had the day off from work, which meant that instead of his normal attire he was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt and a black jacket, all of which made him look like a fucking rockstar.


A few minutes later my girlfriend and her husband arrived, and we moved to a table, ordered a few dozen oysters and another round of drinks. Our plan was to meet up early for a bite and good cocktails before heading over to the monthly Poly Happy Hour event on Delancey. We’ve been going on and off for about five or six years now, and it’s an event that brings in family members from across a wide range of scenes in New York. There are kinksters, swingers, unicorns, and radical-trans-queers who are into library science. There are bi-boys, leather daddies, non-leather daddies, and the simply curious.


We sat and laughed over our drinks, our oysters, and our sliders, as all four of us basked in the warm air blowing through the window. Spring has finally come to New York and it is perfect. A and I held hands beneath the table while her husband and J laughed and smiled, and I had one of those rare poly moments that have felt elusive for a long time. I felt loved, I felt happy, and I felt content. And maybe, most of all, I felt at ease with three dear friends who reveled in each other’s company.


Happy Hour was full of old friends, new friends, and joyful acquaintances, and we moved about easily, sliding from one to another as we talked, shared drinks, and kissed in the dark corners of the bar. When J and I held hands or kissed, A looked on with a smile, and when I wrapped my arms around her, he kissed my head and told us how pretty we were. There was more laughter than anything else, but as the evening wore on, I felt happier and happier by the minute.


Later that night, as I made my way home by myself, I paused long enough to be grateful. It isn’t always like this, and even when it is, I don’t always notice. Maybe it was spring, maybe the warm breeze, or maybe it was simply the full moon lending her bright reflection, but as I moved seamlessly between friends and lovers, I was reminded of what it feels like to experience complete and boundless joy.


It says something that I still find my own happiness to be a surprise, but through all the challenges and trials that come with an open life, it does often catch me unaware. But with their warm hands on mine, their lips against my cheek, and the smell of spring in the air, I am reminded once more that it’s possible.


And that makes everything else worthwhile.

-gny

Don’t Touch The Machinery

“Where the fuck are we going?” she asked as I dragged her down a side street with nothing on it.


“I have a friend,” I said, unwilling to give away anything else. We stopped towards the end of the block and I sent a quick text message. Two minutes later a door with no handle opened, and Marco waved us in with a furtive look down the street.


“You can only have ten minutes. I can’t leave it alone for longer. And don’t fucking touch the machinery.” He lead us up the back stairs, down a short hallway with flickering fluorescent lights, and though one final door. It took us a second for our eyes to adjust, and the sound of the projector was almost deafening. He closed the door behind us and my date stared out the small square window to see Nymphomanic projected on the big screen.


“We don’t have much time,” I whispered, kissing the back of her neck as I reached beneath her dress and slid the cotton off her ass and down to the floor.


“You have go to be kidding me,” she whispered, pushing back against me as I undid my jeans. I slid one hand around her body, my fingers pushing against wet skin, while in front of us Stacy Martin knelt on the floor of a train car with a cock in her mouth.


“Do you like it?” I asked placing her hand firmly on my own cock, willing it hard.


“Uh-huh,” she moaned as she leaned forward. She spit on her hand and a second later it was back on me, sliding up and down my length with a rare skill. Her thumb slipped over my head with perfect precision, and seconds later I was nestled between the lips of her cunt as she wiggled against me.


“Fuck me,” she growled as we watched the actress on screen sit up with cum dripping off her lips. “Hard.”


I pulled her hips to me, sliding inside her instantly, and the heat from the machine next to me was nearly unbearable. I fucked her as deftly as I could, her eyes glued to the screen and the crowd just below as. One hand covered her mouth and the other moved over her clit, and she trembled against me. I looked down at our junction, watching her open around me as I slid in and out of her frantically.


“Oh fuck, I might come,” she said, finally looking down and biting her lip. I pulled her to me harder, my fingers never stopping their motion as she moaned into my ear. “I want to be a bigger whore than she could ever be.”


She shook around me as I pushed inside her so deeply it hurt. My head was against her back as I struggled to stand, and she convulsed and groaned as she came, her body tight around me. Seconds later I stepped back, my cock still hard and alert as I pushed it back inside my jeans. Marco knocked once on the door before opening it, and the two of us flattened our clothes as we moved back to the hallway.


“Just go down quietly and leave through the back door. And don’t touch anything.”


We nodded as we wove our way through the flickering lights until finally we burst out onto the street, the noise of the city bringing us back to reality. She grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, before suddenly breaking out in laughter.


“What is it?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.


“I left my panties on the goddamn floor.”


“Fuck it,” I said, pulling her to me and kissing her on the mouth with everything I had. “Fuck it.”

-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

Healthier than Pepsi…

Her pussy did not taste like Pepsi Cola.


It was more of a margarita with salt on the rim and intoxication close behind. Her pussy was a dirty martini with an olive that demanded to be savoured. It was strong coffee late at night.


Her pussy was not sweet. In fact, at the end of the day–or in this case the early morning–her pussy mostly tasted like pussy.


Which is much healthier than Pepsi anyway.

-gny

Separating Love and Sex (or not)

I’ve never been good at separating love and sex.


It’s possible that I’m just not great at handling my brain chemistry, so when I’m buried inside someone, looking into their eyes as we fuck, I believe all those hormones that are pumped into my head telling me it’s love. I had a belief as a teenager that sex would fundamentally change any relationship—acquired god knows where—and it stuck with me for a long time. Combined with my physiology, it meant that not only did I accept it, but I expected it as well.


After saying I love you at just the wrong moment, I’ve had a lot of awkward conversations that didn’t always go over as I would have like. You know, when I said I loved you back then it was just as a friend. Obviously. Or maybe it was her who brought it up, often as a rejection formed in a question. You don’t really love me, do you? Why would you say that?


And worst of all, at least most of the time, was I love you too. After that we would both lie there silently wondering if we could take it back, or if we needed to double down on it and see where we ended up. Maybe it was love and maybe it was true. And now where do we go?


This might explain why I mostly fuck my friends now. With someone I’ve known for even just a year, chances are high I’ve been saying I love you for a long time before we ever crawl into bed. When it’s been even longer, when we’ve put off sex for whatever reasons we can imagine, it’s a different story altogether.


“I love you,” I’ll moan as we writhe on the bed, in the bathroom stall, or on the couch at a party.


“Aww,” she’ll whisper back to me with easy sincerity. “I love you too.”

 

-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

There’s Nothing

“Show me what’s under your dress,” I said, as she lay down on my bed with a shy smile.


“There’s nothing,” she whispered, her knees touching even as she sat up on her elbows. Her cotton dress was pretty and old, and it sat on her thighs completely aware that it was in the way.


“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said. “Show me.”


She bit her lip and reached one hand down to grab the frayed hem. Just hours earlier she had confessed that she would do anything, and as my requests grew more and more insistent her hesitation came with a quickening breath and a flushing of her cheeks.


I leaned in closer and grabbed one knee, pushing her legs open as I watched. She whimpered ever so slightly as she lifted the dress up, sliding it over her thighs until it finally rested on her belly.


“Open your legs,” I said, my voice no longer sounding like my own. This time she leaned back and closed her eyes, doing just what I told her. I slid a hand up one thigh and down the other, listening to her sigh as I quickly passed her over. When I kissed her stomach she moaned my name, and when my fingers touched her lips she nearly jumped off the bed.


Her pussy tasted like summer. She was coconut and salt water; she was hot sun and bare skin. I licked her and kissed her, my fingers pushing inside her as she lifted her hips off the bed and pulled me to her. My tongue found every inch of skin it could, and I tasted her until she was inside me.


By the time I moved up to her mouth, her hands were around me pulling me in. I tore her dress off her shoulders, aching to feel her skin against mine, and I kissed her hard as I thrust inside her. She screamed out as I worked my way in, and when she had taken all of me we paused and kissed until there were tears in our eyes.


We fucked slowly, all the energy of reaching this moment held tightly in. I held her hands, she clenched her thighs, and we nearly held our breaths as we moved within one another. When my fingers touched her chin they were firm and unshaking. When her hands touched my face they were strong and determined.


As our fucking moved in just one direction the tension built until both our bodies were springs ready to snap. I leaned up on my hands, watching the mechanics of our sex before kissing her once more and giving her her final task.


“Come for me,” I demanded, as I thrust all the way inside her. She reached a hand between our bodies, her fingers frantic against her skin, and we climbed the final peak together. We moaned and screamed and made faces that were full of nothing but need. When she finally shouted her release I was right behind her, my cock exploding within her as we kissed between ragged breaths. We came for hours and days. We came for months and for seconds. We came without end, and I stayed within her even when I collapsed against her wet skin and kissed her lips with tenderness once more.


“I knew there was something beneath this,” I whispered, toying with the cotton that still clung to her hips. “Something perfect.”

-gny

Signs of Spring

I haven’t been writing much recently (at least not dirty things) so I apologize if things have been a little slow around here.


New York is still cold, and I keep struggling to see signs of spring. Even the infrequent warm days don’t do much to help, as they vanish quicker than I remember. I haven’t seen a crocus or a bare knee since last year, and it’s pushing me more into myself.


I suspect one of these days I’ll wake up and remember that I like to fuck. I’ll wake up with a hard-on, and I’ll open the window before climbing back into bed with two hot cups of coffee. If I’m good, I’ll wake her with kisses against her stomach even as the smell of cinnamon and dark sugar do the same. In the warm breeze I’ll move lower until all I can taste is her, even as she bring the mug to her lips and sighs with the new warmth filling her.


“It’s spring,” she’ll moan as she clenches the sheets.


When I finally move up and kiss her stained lips, she’ll reach down and insist that I fuck her, loudly and without pause. Together we’ll sweat and laugh until we come so hard that winter is only a faint memory.


One of these days can’t come soon enough.

 

-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

Needing to Be Loved

“Last night was insane,” she said, walking into my room and climbing into my bed. I wasn’t sure if I could listen to another one of her stories, even if it meant getting laid, but I put my book down anyway.


“What did you do?” I asked.


“Come to bed,” she whispered. “I don’t really want to talk. Come hold me and kiss me.”


I could see the bruises on her body as I undressed her, but her mouth was gentle and soft against me. She touched my cheek, and I brushed her hair behind an ear as we slowly lost our clothes and slid beneath the light blanket. Her neck was red and there were finger marks on her collar bone. Each wrist was marked with lines that were turning an angry shade of green and black. I kissed each nipple, watching them harden beneath my light touch, and she sighed sweetly as she opened her thighs.


“I want you slowly,” she whispered as I rolled a condom down over myself minutes later. I looked into her eyes for a long time as I rubbed against her, but her moans never grew frantic. When I finally entered her we kissed like we were in love.


“I like your bruises,” I whispered as I moved faster, and for a moment I pictured it all in my head.


“Don’t,” she moaned, pulling me deeper inside her as she wrapped her arms around me. “I don’t want you to like them. Just hold me.”


I struggled to hold back and to slow down. I tried not to imagine fucking her with everything I had, slapping her face and her ass until I painted my own picture on her body, but it was nearly impossible. Each time I thrust harder, she held me tighter, her voice a whisper in my ear telling me to be gentle. When I finally came it was all I could do not to tell her horrible things.


“Thank you,” she whispered as we lay next to each other in the dark room.


“Why do you do that? Why won’t you let me fuck you for real?”


“That is real.”


“You know what I mean,” I said, rubbing my hands through my hair, my cock still hard from all the things I wanted to do with her.


“You’re the only one,” she finally said, rolling to her back. “I guess I need someone to be sweet to me, because no one else is. Not even me.”


“Most people are the other way around,” I said. “They love their husbands, but they fuck their lovers like they can’t get enough. They don’t do crazy shit at home and then crawl into my bed needing to feel loved.”


“I know,” she whispered, pulling me close again. “I know.”

-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

 

Worry and Control

The first time I asked Maggie if she’d fuck someone else while I watched, I was hoping for control.


We had been dating for a few months, and she made it clear from the beginning that she was not a good girlfriend. But she kissed me slowly and showed up at my room unannounced, so maybe I was different. She came incredibly hard each time we fucked, and I thought it might be enough to keep her from falling into old habits.


Her idea of a bad girlfriend was complicated. Some of it was simply her past that made her convinced no one would love her. Her turn ons and her shame were intricately connected, and somewhere along the line she decided she wasn’t good enough. She was too slutty, too removed, too dirty to be a good girlfriend, so she decided to be a bad one. Days would go by without a phone call, and then she’d show up drunk at my door and beg me to fuck her while I called her names.


“You’re a filthy little whore,” I’d groan as I slapped her and choked her until tears ran down her face. She’d spit and struggle, but the few times I stopped, worried that possibly it had gone to far, she’d roll over and shut down.


“Don’t fucking do that,” she’d say. “I don’t want to deal with you being worried about me.”


When I suggested bringing Max over, she smiled and asked me if I could handle it. I had watched them flirt for weeks, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I decided I could make it mine. Maybe if I told her what to do, if I made her do it, it would feel less hard than when it happened behind my back.


I undressed her in front of him, and she was shy for first time since I met her. I pulled her hair and forced her to her knees, but the look on his face was more concerned than lustful even as she opened her mouth around his cock. We took turns fucking her mouth and her cunt, and there were a few moments when her eyes glazed over in want, but it was nothing close to how she was with me. He was gentle even when I told him not to be, and she kissed me softly while they fucked.


It took her half a bottle of gin to say anything other than, “it was nice.” Three days later she stumbled into my room, her short skirt around her waist as she struggled to get out of her panties. She didn’t kiss me once as she crawled onto my lap and rubbed her pussy against me through my boxers.


“He would have fucked me harder if you weren’t there. He would have hit me and fucked my ass, but he was worried to do it in front of you. I can always tell when someone is afraid to give me what I deserve.”


“Maggie, don’t,” I whispered, even as I watched in horror as I slid my cock inside her. She leaned down and I grabbed her hair as I thrust up into her, but it was too much. “Please, don’t do this.”


She rolled off me a second later, and curled up into a ball. She was still wearing her skirt, and her tank top was down around her stomach. I pulled the blanket up over her and tried to wrap my arms around her. She pushed me away as she rocked on the bed, and her sobs were loud.


“Why didn’t he want me?” she cried.

 

-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

Talia’s Little Sister

“Kelly, this is insane. I’m not going to fuck Talia’s little sister.”


She looked at me, then looked back down to where her hand was wrapped around my once again hard cock. Without another word she climbed on top of me and slid me inside her. I was still amazed that we could do that. That we could just fuck any time we wanted. She felt so good, it was impossible to focus.


“It won’t take long for her to tell you she wants you, and you won’t be able to resist. She’ll drop to the floor and pull out your cock, no matter how many times you tell her to stop.”


“Kelly, don’t do this,” I said, pushing up into her and trying not to picture that blonde hair and awkward smile.


“Tell me you want her,” she said, leaning down and kissing me as we fucked. “Call me Maddy and fuck me, just like you’re going to fuck her later. You know you want it.”


And then without thinking I rolled her onto her back, pulled out for just a second as I stared at her open pussy, and then I slammed back inside her, my eyes closed as I pictured the bed covered in long blonde hair.


“Oh fuck,” I said, thrusting into her faster and harder.


“That’s right Thomas. Say it,” she urged, her nails digging into my back. “Tell Maddy you want to fuck her tight little cunt.”


“Oh god, Maddy,” I finally whispered, anger mixing in with my arousal. “Oh Maddy, you are so fucking tight.”


“Yes, Thomas. Fuck me before my sister gets back. Fuck me so hard.”


“You are so pretty,” I said, kissing her eyes one at a time. I ran my hand down her face. “You’re so pretty and sweet.” I slowed down, moving inside her as if time was stopping. I didn’t even think as the words left my mouth.


“You are so much sweeter than my girlfriend,” I whispered. “So much prettier and tighter too.”


Kelly’s moans turned into whines, and as I kept talking they turned into sobs. She held me tightly as I fucked her, but still I didn’t stop.


“She’s such a whore, but you? You are a perfect little girl, and I love you,” I moaned, knowing that each word would push Kelly closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Maddy, you are so perfect.”


“Tell me more,” she cried, clenching around me, even as her crying grew louder with each thrust.


“I  don’t know why I’m with her,” I said, moving so slowly it was dangerous. “She’s nothing like you at all. You’re pretty and smart, and so much better than her. Don’t make me go back to her.”


“I won’t,” she whispered into my ear, as I pushed as deeply inside her as I could go. “You can stay here forever. I’ll love you for real, and I’ll never leave you. It will just be us. Just you and me, fucking forever. Please Thomas. Fuck me harder.”


I started moving again, my eyes shut so tightly it hurt, and it was all too real. Maddy’s body trembled beneath me. Maddy’s breasts pressed against my chest, and Maddy’s cunt clenched perfectly around me as we made love over and over again. Love and relief flooded my body as I arched my back, and I finally said it once more.


“I love you Maddy, I love you so much more than her.”


And then we were both coming, her through her tears, and mine in anger, want, and revenge. If she was going to push me she could take it as well. Kelly wanted to pull my strings, but I could pull back. No matter how far she wanted to take it, I could meet her there, and we’d see who gave in first…

-GNy

(From my forthcoming novel Disgusting, Beautiful, Immoral.)

Hitting with Words

The first kinky sex I ever had was all talk.


Before any slapping, spanking, scratching, or biting, all my boundaries were verbal. Before I ever tied anyone up, choked them, or held them down while while fucking them up the ass, I whispered honest things in her ear as she did the same. Some of them blend together into memories that are only half formed, but there’s a string of words that planted the seeds.


First there was Kaity on my bed with her uniform skirt around her waist as she refused to be quiet. The window was open, my mother was gardening, and she begged me to fuck her with no volume control at all.


“She’s going to hear you,” I whispered.


“Good,” she moaned, “let her know you’re fucking me. I don’t care, just don’t stop.”


And then a year later I knelt on the floor while Stephanie talked to her ex on the phone. I ate her pussy and she stopped trying to pretend otherwise in the middle of the call. She came with him on the other end of the line, my tongue against her clit and my fingers inside her cunt.


It was Melissa who whispered, “I want to fuck your roommate” into my ear one morning when I was inside her, and I made her tell me about it in detail. When we came she was practically screaming his name, but we hadn’t once raised a finger. Without words we were simply two sweaty teenagers, fucking on a tiny dorm bed.


The fighting and bruising all came later. The belts, the cuffs, and the wax followed along, but it was always the words that hit me the hardest. Even years later, when Alison lay over my lap, her ass red from my hand, it was her words that made me hard.


“I promise I’ll do better,” she moaned, my fingers finally pushing into her wet cunt as I struggled not to come beneath her.


-gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here. You can also contribute via pay pal on quickienewyork.com if you enjoy the content.)

Disappointment Enough (or Leave Them on The Chair)

“I want to spank you with your skirt still on.”


“But I haven’t done anything wrong.”


For some reason we had gotten in the habit of negotiating over dinner. Schiller’s was packed, and we had destroyed the tray of oysters in front of us, but we ordered a final round of drinks so we still had time.


“I don’t always spank you for being bad,” I said, swallowing the last Blue Point. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. Beneath the table I could see her bare thighs each time she shifted in her seat.


“I always pretend that I have, even if you don’t say it. It’s not always other boys or something like that. Sometimes it’s just that I’ve disappointed you. Those are the hardest times.”


“Hard in terms of how you come? Or how you struggle?” I didn’t look up when the waiter put down our manhattans.


“Both,” she said, finally breaking eye contact. “But, of course, how do I get punished if I don’t do the wrong thing? It’s a conundrum.”


I reached out and took a hand. I raised it to my lips and kissed her knuckles while lifting my drink with my other hand. She raised hers as well and we toasted silently, watching each other’s brains work.


“Take off whatever’s under that skirt,” I said. She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t pause. We both eyed the room as she lifted off her seat, just enough to slide her panties down and hand them to me beneath the table.


“If it makes you feel any better, I can always find something. No matter how hard you try, now matter how good you are, I’ll find a reason. And tonight I have at least six of them. Let’s finish our drinks and then go. I want you over my knee with that skirt around your waist.”


We stood up and gathered our coats, finishing our drinks in gulps that were way too big for anyone. Just as she tucked in her chair I leaned in and took her hand. She clutched the bundled ball of white cotton with a confused look.


“Leave them on the chair,” I said. “You’ve already disappointed me enough tonight.”

gny

(If you enjoy my writing and would like to support the blog, you can buy my novel or one of my dirty e-books on Amazon here.)

Always Perfect

“What do you want to do?” she whispered between kisses.


“I want to watch you undress,” I said, sure of my desire for the first time all evening. I set her down and sat on her bed, which was really just a thick mattress on the floor. I hardly noticed the rest of the room as she pulled off her light jacket. She was wearing a tank top and jeans, and her body swayed as if there was music. When she pulled off the her top – with her back to me – I suddenly realized she was naked beneath it. She turned to face me, her hands covering her breasts, and I stared at her with open awe.


The buttons of her jeans went slower, and she walked to me until she was only inches away. She pulled down the zipper and I could see a thin patch of brown hair beneath the denim.


“I fucking love Vassar,” I whispered.


She leaned forward and kissed me as her jeans came off, and when she stood up again she was completely naked in front of me. If I thought she was tiny with clothes on, this was something else. I had a moment of doubt wondering how old she actually was before she was on my lap pulling off my shirt, and I stopped caring about everything.


Kelly and I spent hours in bed that night. We licked, sucked, and fucked each other until the sun came up, and even then we had to tell ourselves that we needed to sleep. Each time one of us bit a little harder or kissed more gently the other was right there. If I held her arms above her head she moaned into my ear, and when she sank her teeth into my inner thigh with one hand wrapped around the base of my cock, I nearly screamed. When I was inside her the world vanished, and even when we waited for me to grow hard once more our bodies felt perfect.


We were far safer than Jane and I had been, and by the time morning came we had a garbage can full of used condoms, a beer bottle full of cigarette butts, and more than a few bruises covering our bodies. In spite of our scratching and pushing though, the sex was incredibly sweet. It was tender, powerful, and slow, and I fell in love over and over again.


When we finally fell asleep it was only after she managed to make me come one last time.


“You do like how tiny I am, don’t you,” she whispered, as she tried to get me hard.


“Of course,” I said, pushing her back and staring at her body.


“Do you want me to be your little girl?” she purred as she threw a leg over mine. Her cunt pressed into my thigh and somehow my cock twitched back awake. “You like that, don’t you? You want to fuck your little girl, I can feel it. How old do you want me to be?”


“I don’t even know how old you are,” I moaned as I rolled on top of her, my cock now hard against her stomach.


“I’ll be anything for you,” she whispered as she rolled our last condom down over me. “I’ll be as little as you like.”


And then I was inside her and she was kissing me. My eyes were open, amazed at the sight of her, and she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her with everything she had.


“Fuck me,” she whispered, mumbling something else that I couldn’t make out.


“What did you say?” I asked, thrusting faster and harder.


“Fuck your little girl,” she moaned, and seconds later I was coming and so was she, bucking her hips off the ground as I thrust. Her face was against my neck and her breathing so loud it was musical. I kissed her everywhere as my body exploded, and I never wanted anything else ever again. I wanted to stay there, coming inside her, in spite of my utter exhaustion, but most of all I wanted it to always be perfect: sweet, hot, joyous, and easy.

 

-gny (from my new novel Disgusting, Beautiful, Immoral, which will be done one of these days.)

How to Survive Missing You

Once I googled “how to deal with missing you” because I was so sure there must be a secret. Nothing could hurt that much without a cure hiding somewhere on the internet. But instead I found people just like me who realized that longing in their bodies. I found people whose chests felt just as empty as mine and whose bodies fell limp from want.


I’d like to say I learned to revel in it. That I learned to let the feeling simply overwhelm me as I basked in what must surely be love. But the truth is it didn’t stop hurting until you returned. It never grew easy and never moved from pain to release.


And now, years later, it’s a mostly forgotten ache in my chest that I sometimes wish would overwhelm me once more so I might feel it again. Just for a moment, I might remember what it was like to long for your touch.

-gny

I’ll Always Be Here

She lay in bed when I walked in, the blankets around her waist and her hair a tangle on the pillow.


“I couldn’t sleep. I kept picturing you with her.”


“I’m home now,” I said, pulling off my tie and hanging my suit up in the closet. It was the most I could offer.


“I don’t like it. You shouldn’t leave me alone. Ever.”


“Should I just stay here in bed with you? For ever and ever?” I climbed naked beneath the covers and wrapped her in my arms. She backed up against me and clenched my fingers in her hand as she pulled me close.


“Yes. For ever and ever. Except when you go make coffee in the morning. Or order food. And maybe shower on occasion. No smelly boys allowed.”


“And what will you do with me all that time?” I asked, my body moving slowly against her. She reached one hand between us and took me firmly in hand, rubbing the head of my cock between her legs. I was barely hard, but she turned just enough to kiss me.


“I’ll make you fuck me. Just like this, with your arms around me as you promise to stay.”


And then I was inside her, and I would have promised anything. She sighed and pushed back against me as we moved slowly in the dark room. I kissed her neck and pulled on her hip bone, needing to be farther inside her than was ever possible.


“I promise,” I whispered, turning her head and kissing her lips once more. “We’ll never leave. We’ll never stop, and we’ll never get out of bed again.”


“And you have to make me come. A lot.”


My hand moved between her legs as she arched her back. Her thighs parted as my fingers found her, even as my other hand moved to her throat. I thrust faster and deeper, pulling her to me in so many ways. Her breath grew ragged and quick, and with each moan she moved closer and closer to the edge.


“When I get to five,” I whispered, letting go of her just long enough for her to catch her breath. “When I get to five you can come for me.”


She bit her lip and clenched around my hand and cock. I whispered the words in her ear, and by the time I reached three she was sobbing as her body shook and trembled. When I finally released her she screamed into the pillow; my privileged ears devoured every sound she made.


“I’ll always be here,” I whispered over and over again. “Always.”

 

-gny

Beautiful, Brilliant, And Wet

We sat on the couch after everyone else had gone to bed. His hand was on one thigh and mine was on the other while she turned back and forth between us. We had been flirting all night, hell we had been flirting all month, but this was the closest to alone the three of us had ever been.


“You are beautiful,” he whispered, pushing her hair behind an ear as he kissed her neck.


“And brilliant,” I added, my lips brushing her cheek.


“And wet,” she said, turning instantly in to kiss me. It was not tender, and it was not sweet, but it spoke volumes. “Also ready.”


We were something of a blur as we undid buttons, pulled off shirts, and removed everything that was in the way of skin. She kissed him and then me as we finally felt the warmth of each other’s bodies. When I touched his face, and he kissed me too, she let out a sigh which was instantly followed by the sound of her jeans hitting the floor. Our hands returned to her thighs, this time opening her legs as our fingers moved higher.


“Can I watch?” she asked, now naked and trembling.


“Watch what?” I asked, leaning her head back with one hand in her hair. “What do you want to see?”


“Him,” she moaned, her fingers moving between her legs. “I want to watch him suck your cock.”


He didn’t pause before moving to the floor, and a second later I was hard in her hand as he looked up at her. She slowly jerked me off as his face moved closer, and her breathing grew quicker with each stroke.


“Please,” she sighed again. “It’s so fucking hot.”


Without any more wait his lips opened around me and all three of us watched in awe as he took me into his mouth, sucking my cock until he had taken all of me. She leaned in closer, her mouth moving down my body, even as her own fingers kept working between her legs.


“I’ve never seen that before. Not this close. Not like this,” she moaned as I reached down and pulled him closer with one hand in his hair. He moaned around me, reaching up and grabbing my cock without letting me out of his mouth. I watched her, body shaking and eyes wide, and I watched him, lost in concentration, as he dragged me closer to the edge.


“Oh god,” I moaned, my head leaning back as I felt my whole body tighten. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come.”


And then she was next to him, her head practically resting on my stomach as he continued. I moaned his name and his fist was a blur. I clenched the blanket on the couch, closed my eyes, and finally let myself go, filling his mouth as he sucked me fiercely between his lips. He never stopped, his hand held me tightly as he swallowed my come, and it was only when he finally came up for air that she leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth. He kissed her back, pulling her in closer as I slowly grew soft.


“I need to be fucked,” she growled between kisses, and it was my turn to pull her up onto my lap and open her legs as he stood. I reached a hand between her thighs as he rolled a condom down over his cock, and seconds later she was kissing me once more as he slid inside her.


“Oh god,” she said, turning to kiss me as they fucked, and the look in her eyes was clear. She was lost. She was happy. And she needed more.


“Don’t worry,” I whispered, pushing two fingers between her lips. “We’re just getting started.”

 

-gny