And there were many unattended dicks too; some long and floppy, some rock hard and glistening; some brown, some pink, some black, but all waiting to be played with and ridden.
No one would know ...
I realized just how easy it would be to just let myself free, let myself go wild, let my horny animal instincts take over and to hell with the consequences.
Go on, kneel down.
It would be so easy ...
But then another part of me remembered that I was only here to look, that I must remain faithful to Greg — Greg who would go absolutely berserk if he thought I was even out with one fully clothed guy, let alone half-naked at some kind of insane, anything-goes orgy!
So I moved away from this flashing corridor, ignoring as best I could the warm wetness in my panties, the insistent throbbing of my clit and my tingling tightening nipples.
I instead continued down another larger hall, then stopped, realizing that the only thing at the end of it was a closed door. And there was something about it that reminded me of that locked door in the lobby of Blake’s apartment.
With a trembling hand, I reached out and gripped the handle, feeling the cold metal against my hot clammy palm. I turned it slowly, the door opening easily.
At first, I couldn’t quite make out what was going on inside the small, circular room I’d stumbled upon. The light was rather dim, and before my eyes fully adjusted, all I could see were the vague shapes of bodies, all leaning against the curved walls around the edge of the room, while two figures did something in the center.
Soft, low male groans filled my ears as I took a timid, ginger step into the hot, sweaty little room. And as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I realized that this was a whole room full of men, all lazily jerking their cocks as they watched the action going on in the center: a thin, leggy, athletic looking woman with glossy red hair was on her knees, her mouth open, and there standing in front of her was …
Blake?
Yes, Blake.
I just knew it was him, even despite his mask. I recognized him from his frame, from the size of his body, his bulk, from the rippling muscles on his shoulders, that same body I’d watched, hungrily, as I followed him through the corridors of his penthouse.
His hair was slicked back with sweat and his face was covered by a mask of course, but still, there was no mistaking it: it was him.
And the girl, the girl was … Gina, her face lifted up pleadingly towards him, her mouth held open, just inches from his waist. At first I could only see the slow regular movement of Blake’s arm, and his tensed buttocks. But as I took a few more steps into the room, taking my place between two muscular, masturbating voyeurs, leaning back against the cold brickwork of the wall and drinking in the debauched scene before me, I finally got a glimpse of his cock. He was pumping it with his fist, the exertion causing the tendons to stand out on his forearm, and it was large and thick, slick and wet, and I found I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It looked so hard, jutting upwards with a slight curve, the dark pink head visibly throbbing with his pulse as Gina offered her open mouth out to him, panting, her tongue outstretched, lost in her own urgent desires.
And I realized with another little shiver that her hands were bound behind her, and yes … her ankles were bound too.
As Blake masturbated himself, causing Gina to whimper and beg for his cock, just a few inches out of reach of her mouth, she looked so helpless, so hungry for him, and I knew deep down how she felt.
Ok, I admit it: this scene was really fucking turning me on.
Of course, I knew there was something totally sordid and seedy about it, too, something that chimed uncomfortably within me, causing the feminist inside to shake her head in disgust at this obviously male, porno-like fantasy … Yet at the same time, I just couldn’t deny it. It turned me on, simple as that. I even found myself briefly wishing that it was me there on the floor, begging for Blake’s cock, my own eager mouth open and Blake stood above me, jacking his cock, making me whimper and beg for it like a dirty, horny little slut …
I could take it no longer. With my eyes fixed on Blake and Gina, I slipped my trembling fingers down my belly and beneath the waistband of my panties, discovering with a shivery gasp that I was absolutely soaking wet.
Wow.
I’d never been so turned on, so ready before. And I was normally incredibly tight, but instead I worked first one then two fingers surprisingly easily into myself, my touch occasionally straying upwards to toy with the hard little bean of my clit, which too felt way more swollen and aroused than I’d ever felt it before.
As I played with my pussy, I kept my eyes fixed on Blake, and with an electric shiver of surprise I realized that he seemed to be watching me too, his steely grey gaze flashing out into the darkness where I stood, piercing me, rooting me to the spot just a few meters away as he pumped his cock.
Just then, I saw his muscles tense, and there was a delicious pause before the head of his cock swelled, then pulsed out squirt after squirt of pure white cum, deep into Gina’s open mouth and willing throat. She whimpered, raising herself up on her haunches, closing her gooey lips greedily around the swollen head of his cock. And as Blake came, he kept me pinned in his steely gaze.
I wasn’t far behind, feeling that unmistakable electric rush building first in my tummy and then quickly flashing outwards, all around my trembling, shivering body.
With a whimper and a shudder, I felt myself spasm, my pussy clenching around the fingers I’d buried deep inside it, my eyes closing and a long animal moan escaping my lips …
§
“Where to honey?” the taxi driver asked a little later.
As I slid myself into the backseat and told him the address to my apartment, I wondered if he had any idea what I’d just been doing, where I’d just come from. Could he tell, just by looking at my face? Or did I simply look like any young girl, who had been out for the night with friends?
I kicked off my heels.
Thank God.
As I rubbed my aching feet, I smiled to myself at the realization that, contrary to what I’d thought as I’d got ready this evening, they were practically the only part of my outfit I’d managed to keep on.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done, what I’d seen.
The memories came back in flashes: skin, silk, nipples, sweat ...
Blake wasn’t kidding, there really was a side to him I knew nothing about. But then again, maybe I had sensed it. After all, hadn’t my fantasies all been about him being so in control, so dominant, so sexual?
As the taxi drew closer and closer to my apartment, I looked out of the wet black streets of Brooklyn, realizing that part of me had changed that night, had perhaps in fact grown-up.
But I didn’t feel soiled or dirty ...
I felt open, changed ... brand new.
§
It was well after 2 a.m. when I finally returned to the apartment. I felt glad that Greg was still out at work for another hour or so yet. As I looked at his empty side of the bed, rumpled and unmade, at his possessions, and at the little life we’d made together, I felt the guilt begin to descend on me.
I ran the shower, pulled off my dress, stepped out of my panties, and then just stood there for an eternity beneath the water.
What is happening to me?
Is what I did done so wrong?
Of course Greg would think so.
But at the same time, I’d felt more alive in that moment in the club than in the whole last year of our relationship.
And as the warm water ran over my body, I softly began to cry.
CHAPTER NINE
I woke the following morning and for a brief moment I was still enveloped in a blissful innocence, before the memories of last night came flooding back. I turned in bed, feeling the warm heaviness of Greg’s sleeping body next to mine. And I pushed myself hungrily against him, my fingers running through the curls of his chest hair, my leg curling around his as I began to softly grind myself against hi
m.
“Hey,” Greg murmured, his voice soft, his eyes still fuzzy and half-asleep.
“Hey,” I replied in an urgent whisper, first kissing his neck, then climbing up on top of him as I worked my kisses downwards, over his chest, his stomach and then further down, taking his already-hard cock in my mouth, closing my eyes as I sucked him with an unusual ferocity. I felt his hands move into my hair and his thighs tense up as his own desires awakened too. I pulled him from my mouth then thrust myself upwards, eager to kiss him again, to force my tongue hard into his mouth.
I could tell he found my energy unusual, but he responded as much as he could, matching my eager kisses with slower softer ones of his own, his cock hot and hard and twitching between us. He began guiding it between my legs, but I reached down and stopped him.
“No,” I whispered, pulling away from him, then turning around, positioning myself on all-fours, offering myself to him that way — a position I never normally took, thinking it too degrading, too animal … “Like this.”
I arched my back, thrusting my ass towards him, closing my eyes with a shiver of anticipation as I felt him clambering eagerly up in the bed, felt his hot hands gripping my waist, and then his cock slowly slipping inside me from behind.
I waited for his thrusts to become harder, more urgent, but they remained slow and steady, soft and tender, as if he was afraid to hurt me.
“Fuck me,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder at Greg, grinding myself back against him, wanting to feel him pound me hard and fast. “Please … Fuck me, hard.”
His eyes were closed, but when I said that he opened them, fixing me in his gaze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. But then he tightened his grip on my hips and increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts.
“Fuck me, Greg, fuck me harder,” I urged, still wanting it to be harder, wanting him to hurt me. “Harder, harder …” I urged, knowing now that no matter how hard he fucked me, it wouldn’t be enough.
Slowly but surely, I felt my orgasm build, and I buried my face in the sheets as I came, whimpering and crying, my ass thrust high in the air, my teeth clamping down on the sheets as my body shuddered and bucked beneath him. Greg came soon after, a low grunt escaping his lips, his cock buried deep inside me, his hands gripping my hips, his sweaty body falling down on top of me, the animal heat of his skin burning like a fever against my back.
“Wow,” he whispered a few moments later, his breath still trembling, his voice full of surprise, “that was certainly … different.”
I sighed and pressed myself back against him, screwing my eyes shut tight, fighting back the tears that had started to prick at the corners of my eyes.
“I love you,” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly.
“I love you too, baby,” he whispered back, kissing my neck softly, totally unaware of my deep, churning guilt. “I love you too.”
§
“You’ve hardly touched your food,” Fallon said, polishing up the last of her sweet potato fries, the following Monday lunchtime. I’d met her in a cute little cafe diner, just around the corner from her print studio in Bushwick.
“You can have mine too if you want,” I replied, pushing my almost completely untouched burger and fries towards her.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, shooting me a concerned smile. “But I’ll take it, I’m ravenous ... Everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” I snapped back, a little too quickly. “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s all going great.”
At this she held up her hands as if to say, ‘don’t shoot’, and I immediately felt bad about snapping and about my weird, shy, moody behavior — not just with her today, but also with Greg all the rest of the weekend, picking at him in between bouts of confusing silence. And I’d been this way, I realized, ever since my Friday night at Blake’s party.
Blake, I thought, again, for what felt like the millionth time.
I just couldn’t seem to get him out of my head; he was like some kind of infection.
And just then, I heard my iPad chime in my bag, letting me know I had a new email. I felt a strange pang of dread, suspecting I knew exactly who it was from.
“Sorry, I’d better just check that,” I said, reaching down and lifting my bag onto the table, opening it and slipping out the iPad, tapping through to emails. Sure enough, there was one new message from Blake Matthews, just a single line long:
So, did you have fun?
I quickly exited back out of emails and slipped the iPad back into my bag with shaky fingers, feeling a hot rush of blood to my face, as if the whole diner suddenly knew about my kinky little adventure on Friday night.
“You alright?” Fallon asked.
“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to shrug off the email. “It’s just Blake Matthews, again. God, he’s so fucking annoying.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I continued, not even really sure what I was about to say next, just wanting desperately to throw Fallon off the scent, to try to convince her that he was just some normal boring guy, not this person I was developing a weird obsessive crush on … “He’s just such a total spoilt prick. Gives me no clue what I’m supposed to do then shouts me down when I get it wrong. Thinks the whole world should bow down to him just because he owns a couple of hotels … God, I hate him.”
“But I still don’t quite understand why it should get you so riled up,” Fallon replied. “I mean, who doesn’t hate their boss?”
“I’m not riled up!” I hissed, my breathing becoming shallow, my eyes narrowing, the words flying from my mouth, way more venomous than I’d planned.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Fallon said, again holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you say. Listen, I gotta shoot …”
She stood up from the table, pulling a few bills from her wallet and laying them on the counter.
“I’ll leave you to composing a reply to that guy you definitely hate and don’t have some kind of mega high school crush on even though you seem totally desperate to keep dropping his name into the conversation,” she deadpanned.
And then, just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the diner, my face flushed once more in embarrassment, wondering just how I was supposed to reply to Blake’s email, let alone look him in the face ever again.
CHAPTER TEN
Friday Night
Blake Matthews
To: Jessica
So, did you have fun?
Blake
__
Re: Friday Night
Jessica Clark
To: Blake
I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Jessica
__
Re: Re: Friday Night
Blake Matthews
To: Jessica
Oh, really? Because I swear I saw you at my party on Friday night. You absolutely positive you didn’t swing by, even just for a little while?
Blake
__
Re: Re: Re: Friday Night
Jessica Clark
To: Blake
Oh, your party! So sorry. For a moment there I didn’t know what you meant!
No, I’m afraid you must have mistaken me for someone else. I mean, I totally wanted to check it out and everything, but then at the last minute Greg took me out for this cute surprise meal. He’s so nice. You’ll have to meet him sometime.
Jessica
__
Re: Re: Re: Re: Friday Night
Blake Matthews
To: Jessica
Weird. I swore I saw you there — standing in the shadows, taking in our little show — but my eyes must have been deceiving me.
The invite’s always open — last Friday night of every month. You’ve still got your tickets, right? Come another time. I’m sure Greg would love it.
By the way, you kn
ow those bathroom specifications we went over? I want to go through them with you. I’ll see you at my apartment tomorrow − 11am sharp.
Blake
§
Standing once more in the imposing private lobby, my head spinning from the heady scent of orchids and those emerald green eyes of the girl in the painting piercing me with her fierce confrontational gaze, I timidly knocked on the door to Blake’s apartment.
Two questions were shooting around my head as I waited what felt like forever for Blake to answer: first of all, why did he need to go over these bathroom fittings again? Surely we’d decided everything just last week? And secondly, why did we actually have to do it in person, at his apartment? Why couldn’t we just have stuck to email correspondence, which had been working perfectly fine up until now?
No, there was something fishy about all this, something that seemed to suggest he was enjoying the power he had over me, enjoying the fact that he thought he’d seen me at his party and wanted to make me squirm.
But how could he know he’d seen me for sure?
My face was hidden ...
And there had been so many other young, slim women there — women around the same height and weight as me, women with the same color hair. He couldn’t be sure, not completely. And it was this thought I clung onto desperately, as another embarrassing flashback coursed through me, to that moment when we’d locked eyes, my hands buried deep in my panties, his thick hard cock pulsing away, my own orgasm flashing through me, too …
Girl After Dark Page 33
