First Date
|
Posted:Nov 28, 2015 1:45 pm
Last Updated:Jul 4, 2017 8:18 am
12466 Views
|
We meet in the Van Gogh gallery at the Met. Without a word, we kiss. I take your hand and lead you through the rooms, finally arriving at the Sculpture Garden. We have to wait for a table. We stand side by side, not touching. I grasp my skirt and wave its folds; trying to ignore the trembling in my legs.
A table opens up. We move quickly to claim it. We pull the chairs close together. I shift in my seat to face you. You ease your hand up my thigh. People are watching, but I don't care.
You discover I am not wearing panties. I lean back giving you more access. I turn my head away to look out the windows. I can't look at you. It would be too much.
I spread my legs, begging you to ease a finger into my pussy. You lean over and kiss my cheek. My skin is flushed. This is perfect agony. You massage my clit with your fingertip. I know you are smiling. I try not to grind against your fingers. You can hear my ragged breath.
So close.
You pull away. I make a pleading sound. You plunge a finger deep into me. My body shakes. I bite my lip to not cry out. You offer me your finger. I lick it like a lollipop.
Although my legs are still shaking, I take your hand and weave you through the crowds to the entrance.
I lead you to a spot in Central Park near the Obelisk. On the wall, I arrange us until I am behind you and you are leaning against my chest. I put a condom into your hand. You drape your jacket over your lap and release your throbbing cock. I ease my hand under your jacket. You take in a deep breath when my fingers close around you.
You close your eyes. I tell you to open them - watch the people watching you. I take my time. Building moments of pleasure one on top of the other. You turn your head and moan into my neck. I feel the fabric of my skirt dampening. My juice is flowing down my thighs. I increase the speed and grip of my fingers.
Across the way, a lovely woman watches us. I smile at her and she at me.
I whisper in your ear, describing her face, her body to you. You try to stay still, but I can sense you want to thrust up, to take control of the rhythm. I grip harder, pull you harder. You turn your head to see her. Her eyes are half closed, watching and waiting for your release.
The sight of her takes you over the edge. You explode and I smile.
|
|
|
8
Comments
|
|
George got ready for the pitch... Sapiosexual Symposium
|
Posted:Oct 31, 2015 12:37 pm
Last Updated:Nov 29, 2015 7:21 am
11819 Views
|
Participants In The Thirteenth Virtual Symposium Sapiosexuality Intersection Of Smarts And Sex
Hey there, my friend. Got yer eye out for something new, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right place. We got all kinds for all inclinations. Yes, we do! Let me show you around. Can I carry that for you? All righty then.
Here’s what we call the basic model. Sure, it will get you were you’re going, but who wants to be bored when you get there. Am I right? Naw, you strike me as the type who wants a little something extra.
This one’s got some nice added features. Real nice to look at. In a few years you can trade for another one. Maybe one even shinier!
You sure you don’t want a hand?
Well over here, we’ve got a limited edition. An oldie, but goodie. Big bucks, I don’t mind telling you, but worth it. Go with this one and you’ll be all set. No?
Yeah, you’re right. This one’s a guzzler. Let’s just move along.
Here’s what you call mid-range. Is real quiet and reliable as anything. Nice to know this one is around when you need it. What? Not your thing, huh?
No, I don’t think you’d be interested in this one. Sure, it looks good and will take you anywhere you need to go, but it’s kinda high maintenance. It comes with all these things to read. Who wants to be bothered with that when you can just get going?
You okay? It’s just that you’re breathin’ kind of heavy. Maybe it’s from hauling all those books around. Hey, I offered to carry them for you, didn’t I?
Well, take a test run. Might be the right one for you…
|
|
|
4
Comments
|
|
Shopping Trip
|
Posted:May 30, 2015 6:00 am
Last Updated:Feb 29, 2016 3:34 pm
11029 Views
|
This command is almost impossible to obey. The others are easy. I eagerly kneel, lick, swallow for him. But to describe a trip to his office, panty-less, in a dress on a windy day – how do I write about it and do it justice?
I could describe the crystal clear jolt of feeling that shoots up from my pussy into my stomach as I read his text. The deep breaths I have to take to get oxygen into my light-headed brain as I reply. Or, describe the anticipation that drives my legs into action to get ready.
Midtown.
The tourists are out in force today. Perhaps the group of college guys striding down the sidewalk, cell phones in one hand and balls in the other, can smell it on me. Hunger. He makes me so damn hungry.
I don’t approach the door to his building. I wait across the street. I am to be his secret distraction today. I don’t mind. He knows that, too.
He comes to the door, opens it and waits. I am summoned without a glance or a word. He closes it behind me and tells me where to go. I do. I am shaking as I sit at his desk. My thighs are wet.
He stands before me, the front of his pants bulging. He lets me touch him through the straining fabric. Amazing.
He lifts my skirt to look. He likes that I am easily accessible, as he told me to be. He sits. He doesn’t have to tell me to kneel. I lick him slowly. He tells me to do it like the slut I am. I pump quickly with my mouth, deep enough to gag, but I don’t stop. A slut doesn’t stop.
He takes me from behind as I bend over his chair. I am dripping, but he is a rock that stretches me with a mix of sweet pain and heat. He knows I haven’t been fucked in a while. I haven’t – not like this. Maybe I never have.
I am kneeling on the floor again. He sits in his chair and strokes. I wait. I know what is going to happen and I want it. If only to hear his breath as he coats my face. The sound is even better when it actually reaches my ears.
After he has finished admiring his work, he hands me the towel I brought with me. I am allowed to wipe my eyes, but the rest of my face remains damp. I gather my things and he me outside. We go in different directions. He likes that I am going home with his cum drying on my face. I like it so much that I don’t go home. I go shopping on Fifth Avenue instead.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
Words
|
Posted:Apr 25, 2015 8:47 am
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2016 3:55 am
10873 Views
|
Receive
Reply
Repeat
E-mail
Exchange
Text
Plans
Reschedule
Meet
Smile
Talk
Laugh
Enjoy
Leave
Fuck
Thanks
Promise
Text
Silence
Text
Silence
E-mail
Response
Text
Arrange
Text
Silence
Disappeared
Annoyed
Philosophical
Shrug
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
To link to this blog (lyre_lyre) use [blog lyre_lyre] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
281
|
29
|
30
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
