by Molly Hoffer
Then, I executed the best blowjob that was in me. I hadn’t really given many blowjobs in my years as I usually ordered guys around into giving me head. But, I had asked for a lot of directions on the few that I had attempted, and via these surveys I had figured out a fantastic technique that definitely did the trick for Nick. He started grunting and panting as I worked my magic, and had to lie down and get me to sit over his groin because it was making him weak in the knees as his blood was flowing to his cock. I sucked on the tip of the cock and massaged his foreskin and the little cum-hole at the edge with my tongue. Then, when I saw that Nick was getting excited, I began to aggressively move down as far along the shaft as I could, putting my throat into it. It was really a sport for me, trying to perform something like a sword-disappearing act, as I maneuvered my teeth, tucking them behind my lips, just as I would’ve been careful not to stab others or myself if I was shoving a sharp blade down there. Because I usually didn’t like giving blowjobs, there was something special about it, and it made me feel like I was a little girl again, innocent and being taken for the first time by a man that knew how to put me in my place.
I just wanted to embrace him, and he also forgot about the role-playing and got on top of me, placing me on my back against my pillows. He finally pulled my dress off and took of his own shirt. He pressed his chest into mine, and I felt a bit of a skin orgasm as he pressed into my boobs, while he thrust into my pulsating pussy. We stayed in that position, thrusting into each other for a couple of hours, as if we were two whales in heat, unable to separate until we both burst and burst we did, a couple of times. When I say a couple of times, this isn’t saying a little. I usually need a long time to recover from an orgasm because I kind of feel like all of my energy is drained in that explosive moment, but both of us recovered oddly quickly and just wanted to get out parts into each other again.
Finally, we were both too exhausted and collapsed. We had dived under the sheets some time earlier to keep as hot and sweaty as possible, and now we intertwined and cuddled together, as if we were hugging comforters, and passed out into sleep, without saying another word, both of us not thinking about anything from sheer exhaustion.
CHAPTER TWELVE
My alarm clock was set to go off automatically at 6am every morning, and since it was Friday, it was time to get up. If I had a bit more foresight I really should’ve attempted that fling on a Friday, instead of doing it on a workday, but on Friday both of us would’ve been more tired and grumpy, as we anticipated the weekend.
Nick also woke up to the alarm. He jumped up and was looking around at his pants and shirt, which were tossed around the floor. He was naked at this point, and I just reclined against the pillows and stared at his cock for a few moments. Meanwhile, he looked like he was panicking.
“I didn’t break my work clothing… I can’t put those on… And they’re all greasy… I’d stink…” he said. I loved it when he was panicking; it was just so adorable to see a grown man in a flush.
“Err…” I mumbled, trying to look concerned for him. “Why don’t I give you the day off?” I asked, patting the side of the bed, asking him with this motion to get back into the bed.
“Give me a day off? Are you gonna pay me for time off? How am I gonna explain that on my time card? And what exactly would taking a day ‘off’ to screw around with you make me?!”
“No, darling, I didn’t mean to say that… What would you like me to do?... You know, I can just bring you some of the outfits from the showroom downstairs. You’ll look fabulous too. I want to see you in them!”
“Fine. OK. Go ahead,” Nick said, and sat down on the corner of the bed, crossing his legs.
I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my face, and slipped on some simple dress that didn’t look odd for a workday, but also wasn’t too much trouble to put on.
I handed Nick a new toothbrush, towel and face cleanser on my way out, “You can use these. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge,” I said.
I took the elevator downstairs, thinking how good an idea it was to get a place right above the workroom. It was still too early for anybody but the cleaning lady to be around, so I got hold of a couple of outfits I thought would make Nick look slick without looking like they would’ve bust his wallet. With these in hand, I took the elevator back up.
When I returned, Nick looked like he had just quickly freshened up, and was now sitting with his naked butt on a cushioned white stool in my gourmet kitchen, eating a bagel, while a kettle was heating up.
I handed him the outfits. “Feel free to take a shower. There’s soap and shampoo in there.”
“I noticed them, pretty herby and flowery.”
“Well, I’m a flowery type a girl.”
Nick put his bagel down on a plate he found on my rack, and went to take a shower, as if we were back at the penthouse and all those years that had gone by had disappeared.
The kettle boiled, while I was daydreaming about Nick’s ass, and related subjects. I poured myself a strong cup of coffee. Nick emerged, fully dressed, shortly. We finished breakfast without saying much.
“So, what’s the plan for getting me downstairs without people noticing that I’m heading the wrong way in the elevator?” Nick asked.
“Er… What’s the big deal? Maybe you were helping me move furniture?” I proposed.
“I doubt I would’ve helped you move furniture.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t…”
“Yea, you do. Everybody at the office knows you’re a sweetheart. There’s no need to hide it.”
“Whatever. It’s not like I’d be walking the walk of shame anyway, it’s more like something that’d be a problem for the girl.”
“I really don’t care. I can just fire all of them.”
“No, you couldn’t. I doubt you can sew two clothes together. You need them.”
“Sure I do, but I need you more,” I said sweetly pouting my lips and blinking seductively with my eyelashes.
He forgot what the argument was about when he saw my blinking lashes, and we got downstairs, separating from an embrace in the elevator a moment before the doors opened on the workshop’s floor.
The day flew by, as I tried to focus on the pile of bills, invoices, orders, and other items that I had to process or review myself to make sure I’m overseeing the accountant, who had a tendency to get creative if I left the books alone for too long.
Nicholas was assigned to bring in a new inventory from a truck that arrived the night before with a new shipment from China. So, he was dragging boxes across the entire floor, making it impossible for me to avoid noticing him on each pass.
He was so sexy in that metrosexual beige outfit that I picked out for him. A few of the other girls in the office were scanning him. The receptionist came up to me during lunch and asked, “Did you notice what Nick is wearing. I think that pair of pants and jacket are missing from our showroom…”
“What are you saying?” I asked, blushing, but trying to hide that I knew anything about it, while also thinking if a better approach might have been to come clean that I had let him borrow those.
“Nothing. I just wanted to mention it to you. Maybe I just didn’t spot them when I did inventory this morning. I’ll redo it.”
“No, no, don’t do it again today. Just do it tomorrow, or whenever you have it scheduled next. If a couple of things are missing, it’s not a big deal. I mean a model could’ve taken something home, and will probably return it before you check again.”
The receptionist was satisfied with that reply, as I had given her permission to ignore the glitch, and she had done her duty by bringing it up.
I put the items back in place that weekend, so we got away with that misstep.
When the workday was over, and almost everybody had left, Nick stepped into my office.
“So…” he said, looking at me quizzically.
“I think I’ll be needing your help upstairs… with moving my furniture�
��”
“Oh, trust me, furniture will be moved,” Nick concluded.
We sealed that deal by running upstairs, taking the stairs to avoid all possible elevator-related glitches. We were screwing with as much vigor as we had left over for a few hours. We changed positions a few times to keep it sporty. Afterwards, I was pretty sticky, so I went to take a shower, and Nick came and joined me, pushing me into the glass, and screwing me from behind. We both came, and then I tried to get back to the shower, but we both got horny again, and screwed some more, this time facing each other with my butt propped against the glass and my feet up in the air. I think we did it just one more time in the shower after that, and then we didn’t have the energy to do much more than sprinkle some water over our chests to wash away the cum. We crashed on the bed and passed out pretty early, as it was only 10pm on a Friday.
“Why don’t you move more of your things over here?” I asked Nick that Monday, when he was saying he should go back home that night to get some of his own shirts to keep from dipping into the showroom’s closet again.
“Move in with you? Isn’t that where our problems began last time?” he replied, frustrated, but also trying to find a way to say yes.
“It would be pretty different this time. I mean, we’re both adults now, and we know what we want.”
“And you want me?”
“I think that my… actions have said that. Haven’t they?”
“Yea, I think they have. Look, whatever. It’s not that big of a deal. You know I live in a dump. You know I can really use living in a place like yours instead, so why don’t I just move in, and let that be that.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. Thanks for rephrasing it for me. Not that your place is a dump… but I’m glad it’s dump-like if it’s gonna bring a closer together.”
“Oh, you wanna be closer together,” Nick said and came up to me, kissing my breast through my thin silky shirt.
He got as close to my uterus as his cock allowed over the next hour, and then he went to grab his things from his home and to tell his spaced-out dad that he was moving out, “at least temporarily.”
He came back late that night. I had called his cell phone a few times to check where he was on the subway line, and to ask if he didn’t want me to just send the limo to pick him up at the next stop… with me in it.
Even having him away for a few hours made me yearn for him, and I started daydreaming about places in my apartment where we simply had to do it. I almost wrote a list in my schedule book, but then stopped myself, leaving some room for spontaneous sexual creativity.
He brought a sports bag with his key possessions. I gave him one of my walk-in closets, and then watched him take up a single shelf with everything in the bag.
“Look, for my own sake and for the pleasure of my own eyes, I have to take you out shopping,” I insisted, as he was finishing.
Nick was fighting a few conflicting emotions, as he turned around to face me. “I really just don’t think that’s a good idea,” he finally said.
“Just think about it as me buying stuff for me to look at. They’re not gifts for you,” I clarified.
“Whatever. If you want me to wear stuff you like, get my sizes of my stuff, and go buy stuff on your own.”
He probably thought I’d argue, but I really preferred to do strategic shopping with the help of my shopping assistant, instead of being seen buying stuff on 5th Avenue for some poor boy. Perhaps that was the first moment I thought about our relationship from that perspective, but for the moment I dismissed it. So, I did get his sizes of his stuff, and created a typed list of all of the items that any Manhattan socialite needed to have. I anticipated that if not in the near future, then eventually we’d be going out together, and no matter if we went golfing, clubbing, or to the library, there had to be an outfit in his closet to match the occasion. I also included some preferred colors, textures, cuts, brands and styles, and emailed the list to the shopping assistant I used to do everything from my grocery shopping, to buying fabrics for the shop, to buying my own everyday clothing, when I didn’t want to go through stacks of stuff myself, and paying her to do it cost as much as taking the limo to do it myself. The trip took her eight hours, and she came back with exactly what I asked her for. She was careful not to buy anything that would stick out as prohibitively expensive for a handyman, but also avoid buying things that would look embarrassingly cheap at a gathering of Manhattan’s ultra-rich. This was a balancing act worthy of a shopping artist, and she really pulled it. A sure sing of this was that Nick didn’t object that the stuff was too preppy or too metro for him, and just starting putting this stuff on, to the great delight of my style-sense.
Working at the design company became more fun after I hooked back up with Nick. We discussed the designs after we got home, and the critical exchange made each item a bit more personal and significant. I was putting more energy into pushing the line out into stores, and it was paying off in higher profits.
However, while Nicholas was entertaining in bed and at the dinner table, as I spent more time living in the same bedroom with him, I started noticing some things that weren’t even apparent to me when he lived next door to me.
I only had one giant bathroom in that flat because I didn’t anticipate inviting anybody to stay over. I had a maid that came through and cleaned the whole apartment weekly for me, but I kept the place tidy myself during the week. When stuff is out of place, I feel as if I can’t think as clearly, the air is denser and staler, and I just feel as if it’s all out of my control. Nick clearly did not have a similar perspective on it. He thought that when he left a towel under the sink, the maid would eventually pick it up and wash it, knowing that the position meant it had been used. The laundry room was right next to the bathroom, so it would’ve taken four steps for him to toss that towel in a basket.
He also sometimes used my toothbrush; I could tell because I’d later taste something that I hadn’t eaten before. He’d leave the pants and socks I bought for him on the floor, or he’d forget to put something that had to be dry-cleaned or washed in the light cycle in the right laundry basket. He didn’t take a shower at night before he went to bed, so I’d always be nice perfumed, and he’d just be sticky and fishy-smelling when we’d do it. I was into that fishy smell, but I felt uncomfortable about getting it on me, and then smelling like that to his nose.
It also frustrated me that he hadn’t developed a better hair styling sense since high school. Before he always just showered and tossed his hair, and, when it was cold, he dried it. And now that he was living with me, he’d just come downstairs with wet hair, which was odd to others working there because they all knew he lived in Brooklyn and they couldn’t figure out why he was dipping his head in the sink after he arrived in Manhattan.
At first, I would explain all the little things that bothered me calmly, as I noticed them.
“Nick, you really have to throw those towels into the bins. Leaving them there can spread mold,” I’d say, as I entered the bathroom, while he was exiting.
He’d shrug and just leave it there. I thought he’d start following my directions after I said it a few times, or as he realized that leaving a mess meant he’d be living in a mess, but he just kept doing what he was used to. I even started thinking he was doing it on purpose, just to try and get me pissed off, which was pretty difficult. I think it turned him on to hear me nagging him.
When I didn’t see results, I started screaming at him. That’s when I realized that the floor between my apartment and the workroom wasn’t soundproofed. The maintenance worker that worked evenings, who also frequently noticed Nick going in the wrong direction on the elevator, heard Nick and me fighting upstairs and asked me if everything was “OK?” on the next day. She must’ve distinguished Nick’s voice, so there was at least one person now who had a strong suspicion that I was screwing the help.
When I realized that people might find out about us without us coming out about it, I started thinking a
bout what the reactions might be. Maybe Meg would tell me to just screw him and leave the stray out-of-doors afterwards. Maybe my parents would tell me that it’s obscene to be living with my ex-foster-brother. Maybe all of my siblings would be groused out.
“We gotta keep this thing we’re doing under wraps,” I told Nick after explaining that the maintenance worker overheard us arguing.
“You mean this thing that we’re doing!” Nick laughed, rubbing his erect cock against my skirted ass.
“Stop! Nick! Come on! Be serious,” I replied, giggling.
“Stop this thing that I’m doing?!” he began grinding into me through his thin-fabric pants.
That evening, while we ate dinner, I brought the topic up again.
“So, you’re so embarrassed by me that we actually have to have this sit-down so you can hush me up?”
“Do you seriously think your dad would accept us, if he knew where you were living?”
“He already knows, and he couldn’t care less who I’m screwing or where I’m living. He’s just happy to have me out of his place.”
“I can see that if that’s what you’re used to, you don’t understand my perspective, but the people I know make a living from their reputations, and this fling of ours can be in every daily paper in the world if it comes out. How would you feel about that?!”
“Pretty good. I’d finally be recognized for being good at something!”
“At fuckin’?”
“Yea. There are lots of guys that would be pretty happy with that.”
“I don’t even know how we’re still together. It’s like we’re on different planets,” I said and teared up a bit, as I reflected about our situation, and what it would change into as time passed.
While the first few weeks living together was reasonably easy to hide from the people in my life, it became a real chore as I returned to my regular schedule.
Once, Meg asked me to go dancing with her, and as usually happened when I was around Meg (Ok, Ok, I’m not entirely straight, I know!) I got horny and started dance-grinding with some college kid. At first, it was all in good fun, as Meg was grinding with some kid of her own right beside me, and it was just a couple of girlfriends chilling and having a good time. But then the guy that I was with started moaning and seemed to be getting emotional and really into me, as if he was about to have an orgasm just by rubbing against me. Every girl likes to have a reaction like that from a guy, and in the first moments I just got closer to him, but then I imagined Nick just coming in that club and seeing us there together and freaking out. I had never seen what Nick was like when he was jealous, and I wasn’t sure if he’d threaten to beat him up, revealing our tie, or start crying hysterically in front of everybody. So, I stepped away from the grinder and told him I had to powder my nose. I grabbed Meg’s hand on the way out, and led her straight out of that club.
