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Roger
Everything starts happening fast and furious with this girl. Even as she pushes against the fingers I’ve got inside her, she undoes my pants. I remove my hand from her snatch and help her get my soaking pants and boxers off.
Then she’s got my dick in her mouth and it feels amazing. Her mouth is soft and warm, and the shower is steaming and soothing. She sucks me like a champion. Like she’s been waiting all year for it.
I could tell she was ready to come a second ago and suddenly I’m almost there, too. So, I pull her up to standing and get down. She starts playing with herself as my tongue goes to work on her clit, dancing between her fingers. She’s almost shaking with pleasure. Then she takes her hand away and presses it into my head, driving me deeper into her wet, widening pussy.
Let’s give her something to remember.
I throw her legs over my shoulder and stand. She slides up the shower wall, now several feet in the air, while I keep eating her out. She presses against the wall, and I go all out, bringing her just to the edge of an orgasm before lowering her back down.
Her feet barely touch the shower stall before she’s all over me. Her tongue in my mouth, one hand squeezing my ass and the other working on my cock. I want to burst in every direction. I run my hands down her back and grab hold of her ass in turn. It’s firm, strong. She’s kind of willowy, but she’s got muscle and all the right sort of curves.
I put my mouth on her nipple and roll my tongue around. I feel her pressing herself toward my cock. She shuts the shower off.
We tumble out of the bathroom together, hands all over. By the time we’re in the bedroom, I can tell we’re both still on the verge of coming. It won’t be long, but it’s bound to be epic. As if to confirm what I’m saying, she breaks away from kissing me just long enough to say, “Fuck, I need your dick in me.”
Will do.
I lift her up in my arms and sit her on my cock. She lets me in deep. I could come just feeling her around me. I start bouncing her. Her breasts brush up and down against my chest, bringing me closer still. I feel full and long inside her. She wraps her legs around me and uses the leverage to get in sync with my rhythm. She’s already letting out moans of ecstasy.
I thrust faster. She responds by clenching her muscles tighter around my dick. We go at it like rabbits, and then both of us come simultaneously. It’s noisy, sweaty and memorable. I’m still deep inside her, still throbbing, as we drop together on the bed.
Takes me at least a full two minutes to catch my breath. And my wits.
Confession — this doesn’t usually happen to me.
Yeah, I live the party lifestyle of a guy with my kind of money and my kind of connections. Not going to pretend I don’t enjoy it, either; or that I don’t come back to my penthouse with any number of girls looking to experience whatever part of my lifestyle they can for as long as they can; or even with poor-little-rich-girls who grew up in this world and are working out their daddy issues, banging me for the social status points or whatever motive it may be.
I’m talking about this kind of off-the-cuff, hey we just met, we’re sober, let’s talk and then… we’re at it? That’s a pretty rare occurrence.
I like it.
“More wine?” I ask Natalie when we both finally come back to reality.
“Yes please,” she purrs contentedly. She runs a hand through her tussled hair, her head sinking deep into her pillow.
Still naked, I get out of bed. There’s something deliciously naughty about post-sex nakedness in someone else’s place. I enjoy it as I pour the wine and return with two full glasses.
As I return, Natalie stretches a little, the blankets she’s pulled up around herself shift and reveal one of her glorious breasts as she moves. I consider having another go, but instead, I hand her the wine glass.
We stay like that for a moment, sipping wine and looking out the window at the Manhattan skyline. It’s nice, actually. After a moment, she stretches again.
“Mm-hmm! That was… much needed.”
“Oh, yeah?” I look at her. Hard to believe this woman isn’t getting anything she wants anytime she wants it. That usually means one thing. “Bad breakup?” I ask.
“That obvious?”
“Something in your eyes,” I tell her. Those very eyes take me in.Shit.Was that too forward? That sounded kind of romantic. Did I mean it to be? Why am I so confused by this girl?
Thankfully, she looks back out the window and I take a second to right my brain. “Bad divorce, actually,” she confesses. “From a slimeball, scuzz-bucket, vindictive, jealous asshole.”
“But what are his bad points?”
She laughs, then frowns. “He has the potential to make my life a living hell if he wants to.”
“‘Vindictive’, you said? Should I be worried?”
