A New York Fuck - Sex Stories

A New York Fuck

... nothing.

I was now regretting my choice of clothing. We'd talked about his love of lingerie, garter belts and hose in particular. I'd brought some things with me. But no time to change now. Shit! I probably looked awful in the robe. And I'd not done my make-up either. I checked the peephole again. Maybe I had time to change quickly, but what if I was half dressed when he came in?

I was wracked with indecision. Just as I had made up my mind to at least put on a bra and panties, the door lock whirred and he was there. We stood looking at each other. It felt like minutes.

Then the door swung closed behind him and the noise was like a starting pistol. Suddenly his arms were round me and my head buried in his chest. He squeezed me tight and I felt myself begin to get lost in his embrace.

His fingers gently touched my chin, lifting my face as he bowed his head to meet mine. And then we kissed. And it was like no kiss before. I began to melt, his lips and tongue sending warmth and electricity surging through my body.

He took one step back and smiled, before uttering just two words: "so beautiful."

The unaccustomed blushing hit me again. I felt like I had just been invited to my high school prom by the boy I had been yearning for all year.

But I wasn't a shy teenager any more. Returning his smile, I undid the robe, shrugged it off my shoulders, and let it fall.

"Will I do Mr Jones?" I asked in a valiant attempt at coyness.

His face became almost beatific, ...

... as if lit by some internal luminescence. Yet his reply was simple and to the point: "I really want to fuck you, Miss Melnyk."

"Well, what are you waiting for, then?"

They talk about sweeping a girl off her feet, but that's what he actually did. And I'm not some tiny little thing. I was so aroused already, but his strong arms lifting me, holding me to his chest, and gently laying me down on the bed... I'd never felt so ready to fuck.

Then he was on the bed with me. Reading his intent, I made room for him between my legs. And he almost fell into me. He dove into my flesh like a man finding a desert oasis after long, thirsty days. It was carnal, his desire was so palpable, his thrusting tongue so urgent. I felt like my body was his life's goal, so insistent was his adoration of it.

And for me it was heaven. His passion intoxicating, his skill letting me discover previously unknown pleasures. He was no fumbling college kid, he was a mature and experienced man. And, fuck, did he know how to please a woman. I'm not normally vocal. My orgasms are intense, but internalized. Not with him. His tongue, and now his fingers also, had me lose control, get in touch with my primal self. I don't believe in religious mumbo jumbo, but it felt like it was my very soul he was stimulating, along with my pulsing flesh.

I clenched my fists in his hair and pushed him onto me. The throbbing took me over, my muscles clenching and unclenching with no conscious control. I had just about ...