I was in long distance relationship until a couple months ago. Separate continents made it easy to forget why it was all worth it, so every time I finished visiting my ex, Id write her stories recounting the things wed done, like sexual journal entries she could go back to. Found this one recently, thought Id share.
I woke up to the sound of people fighting over a parking space and her kissing me on the cheek. It was early for me and the sun was bright and it took me a moment to remember where I was. The day before I’d been in Boston, and three days before that, I’d been in London. All of that was just prelude to where I really wanted to be, though, which was in her bed in in lower Chelsea.
"Wake up," she said.
"But it’s so early…"
I turned onto my back and pulled the covers over my head half-heartedly.
"I’ve been up for an hour. You’re lucky I didn’t bother you then."
"You’ve been up for an hour because you sleep like an old lady."
Its true. She could never sleep past six.
She yanked the sheets back angrily, leaving me exposed.
"Oh, come on, I said. That was funny."
She laid on top of me.
"Hilarious," she said.
She moved in for a kiss and when I only gave her a peck in return, she acted shocked.
"Trust me, you don’t want any of this," I told her.
"But I do."
I smacked my lips and got a taste of my stale mouth.
"Seriously, I have dragon breath."
"I don’t care."
"Suit yourself," I said.
She moved in to kiss me again; I threw my arms around her and pulled her close, then rolled us over and until I was on top of her. She closed her eyes and waited for me, but instead of kissing her, I stopped inches away from her face and exhaled, unleashing a wave of horrible morning breath.
"Oh no you did not!"
I had to laugh.
"It’s not funny!" she protested, punching me in the chest.
"It is to me," I said.
Then I kissed her for real, softly, completely, because it didn’t matter that neither of us hadn’t brushed our teeth.
It was a nice Spring morning and the High Line was filled with tourists and young families looking for a cheap way to entertain their small children now that the snow had thawed and they could go outside. We found a corner with a nice view of Chelsea Piers and I stood behind her, both of our hands on the rail.
"That’s where the bowling alley is," she said.
"Interesting."
Something in the way I responded let her know I was up to no good.
"What are you doing?"
Her voice was curious but not concerned.
"Nothing," I said. It was a lie, of course. My hand was on her thigh and making a run for the gap. "I’m just taking in the view."
I pressed at where her thighs met.
"Open," I said.
"No!"
I grabbed a handful of her leg and squeezed lightly, pulling her off balance, but only slightly, only enough for her to have to shift her eight, enough to have her adjust her stance a little. When we went back to looking at the view, she left her legs slightly apart. It was all the opening I needed.
Her jeans were tight, but skinny, so the fabric was thin and stretchy. It wasn’t hard to find her mound, and even easier to feel where it separated.
"Babe!" she exclaimed under her breath.
"Yes?"
"There are people!"
"There are people all over the planet, hon."
"They might see!"
"What’s your point?"
"That we shouldn’t do this."
"Okay, but if that’s true, then why are you grinding your hips into my hand?"
She hadn’t noticed, but she was. She turned to look at me, but I stopped her before her head could get all the way around.
"Just take in the view."
I pressed harder. I knew it was working because it was getting easier to find the space between her lips. She was getting wetter and wetter, her clit more pronounced. I kept rubbing her, slowly, rhythmically, in time with the waves crashing against the pier wall. I could hear her whimper, lightly, scared to be noticed, afraid of enjoying what was happened. She backed her ass into me, started rubbing it against my crotch in time with my hand. My jeans were thicker than hers, and the bottom of my hoodie was in the way, but even still, she could feel my cock hardening.
"Fuck, babe… We can’t!"
She tried to get away, but it was useless. I’d let go of the rail and wrapped my other arm around her waist.
"You woke me up," I said, my mouth next to your ear, my breath hot against your skin. "I could be sleeping, but you woke me up. Now I’m awake, and you’re not going anywhere."
I was behind her. She was pinned against the rail, at my mercy.
I ran my hand up her stomach, lifted her shirt a tiny bit, just enough to undo the button on her jeans. From there, I slid my hands down into her pants, into her underwear; I didn’t stop until I could feel her pussy.
"It’s so wet…"
She let me keep going for a few moments, let me run my fingers between her slick lips, let me massage her clit. She moaned a little when I trapped it between my the sides of my fingers, and even gasped when I slipped those same fingers inside her. Thats when she changed her mind.
"Okay, enough."
She pulled my hand away and turned around. I thought she was going to get upset, but instead she lifted my fingers to her lips, then sucked on them until any trace of her was gone.
"We need to get out of here," she said.
She led me by the hand and we cut through the crowd, searching for somewhere to go.
"If you stop for a sec, I could check my phone for a hotel," I said.
"We don’t have time for that shit.
She spotted a section of the High Line under construction.
"There!"
It was Sunday, so there wasn’t anyone around. We pushed the tarp to the side and snuck in before anyone could notice. The room was large and wide, a lobby of some kind; it must have been part of a condo or office building or something, with the High Line running past it. As far as we were concerned, it was perfect.
I pulled her close to me, tugged her collar aside and kissed her on her right shoulder— that spot that made her crazy — gently at first, licking her, nibbling until she started writhing, at which point bit harder. She told me later that in that moment, she thought about how other guys had tried to do the same; thought about how none of them had known how to find the spot so quickly (some hadn’t even realized it had existed); how none of them knew how to gauge her mood quite like I did. In that moment, she thought about how I fucked her best — and she needed to have it.
"Where you going?" I asked as she twisted away from me.
She didn’t answer. She just smiled and walked to the wall, pulling her shirt off and tossing it aside as she went.
"I want you to fuck me," she said, wiggling out of her jeans. She put her hands out and leaned against the tarp-covered window, arched her back and stuck her ass out. "Right here, right now."
I dropped to my knees and buried my face in her, pressing my mouth against her perfect pussy, my tongue caressing he flesh, then fucking her. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She tried to stay quiet, tried not to moan, but she did anyway.
"Stop wasting time," she said, lifting her ass as high as it could go, even getting on her toes. "I want it!"
I reached down and unzipped my pants. My cock came out quickly, as if it had been waiting forever to escape. She felt it against her bare, smooth ass, the way it dripped pre-cum against her skin, warm and slippery. I slid it inside her and we began to move in concert, slowly, savoring the moment. I reached around and grabbed her breasts in my hands, taking hold of her nipples then pinching and rolling them between my fingers. The sounds she made told me it was time to move faster, and so I did, pumping quicker and quicker until she switched up the rhythm and started fucking me back, crashing into me just as I reached her, shoving my cock even further inside her. The way we fucked, the way I ran my hand through her hair and kissed her neck and pinched her nipples, it sent shockwaves through her body. She tried to stifle her pleasure, but it was hopeless, so she started letting it out, without caring who might find us there. The pleasure built and built until it got too much and she had to stop fucking herself back onto me and just stand there, twitching and spasming, coming again and again, helpless as I kept giving it to her, kept pushing myself inside her, deeper and deeper until finally I couldn’t contain it any more and I had to pull out; she could feel the warm spurts landing against the soft, smooth skin of her ass. It made her smile.
We dressed quickly. I made sure the coast was clear and kissed her, then led her out by the hand. A few people walking by noticed us as we exited, watching us as we left. But we couldn’t tell if it was because theyd heard us or were just confused as to where we’d come from.
"Do you think they know?" I asked.
"Who cares?" she said. "We’re leaving anyway."
I was surprised by how quickly shed gone from being afraid to not caring. But that’s what great sex does, right?
"I’m cold," she said as we walked down the stairs to the street.
I threw my arm around her and pulled her close.
"We’ll hail a cab," I said.
As we got into the back seat, she leaned into me. Her head was pressed against my chest and she could smell my sweat through my clothes, but she didn’t mind. There were some things about me that bugged her — no ones perfect — but my scent, that was always something she enjoyed. (After each of my visits, she’d keep from washing her sheets until any trace of me was long gone.) And as we drove, she thought about her apartment and the warm bed that was waiting for us. She might even let me get a little nap in too, she thought. Assuming I performed to her liking.
denoumxnt
