A Day & Two Nights

I met her about a month ago. We were both in Central Park, me sitting on a park bench reading the New Yorker, her taking a break from her bike ride and relaxing on the bench next to mine, and both of us evaluating the mid-afternoon scene. She struck up a conversation with me. I noticed a few different things about her appearance: That her black slick biking pants fit her legs and ass like a glove, that her expertly coiffed blonde hair spoke well of her sense of style, and the ring on ring finger of her left hand. None of which she sought to hide from my appreciative gaze.

I am not sure what about my appearance caught her eye. My hair pulled back in a tail, minimal make-up, and dressed in jeans and a comfy frumpy sweater. She sat; we talked, and enjoyed each other's company. I enjoyed her company enough to ask her to my place, to "see my apartment" as the saying goes, to proffer some tea to take away the late winter chill. She enjoyed my company enough to accept my invitation.

Still in her workout wear, and with her bike in tow, she and I used the back entrance and the service elevator up to my apartment. It would not do, after all, to have anyone at her place think she was anywhere other than still on her bike ride. Nor would it do for anyone at my place to notice a married woman into my apartment. In any event, not more 60 minutes after we met in the park, she walked into my apartment.

She sat, I made some tea, and we talked. I took her left hand into mine and took renewed interest of her wedding ring. I expressed surprise that she wore it while biking. She said she always does when biking in Central Park, as she often stops for a rest and does not want complication or misunderstandings. I see, I said, and thought to myself: This is not the first time she has picked up or been picked up while on one of her Central Park bike rides.

"What does he do?" I asked, less curious about how he paid for her stylist than I was curious about what she would tell me about him

"He's on Wall Street." The alpha and omega of her explanation about him, as it turns out, as she turned the conversation back to me: "You didn't seem to mind when you invited me here."

"I don't mind at all, " I told her, matching her even gaze with one of my own, "I'll guess I'm like you: I don't need unnecessary drama in my life."

She smiled at that. I liked her demeanor, and that she would have walked out of my apartment had I not met her... terms. Probably I would have done the same in her place. Certainly, I would have thrown her out had she started blathering on about how she needs a "special friend" in her life, how "only women understand our needs" or how she had been "so curious for so long." I smiled back at her and we silently watched the sun wane over the canyons of Midtown, enjoyed the brief moment before she turned to me and asked me to show her the rest of my apartment.

Considering I live in a one-bedroom apartment, the only place left to show my new friend was my bedroom. She noticed the prints on the wall, my own bike standing in the corner, and the queen-sized bed by the curtained window; I noticed how her black biking pants perfectly hugged her shapely ass. She walked over by my unmade bed and made a show of noticing the framed print above my bed. I walked over behind her, placed my hands on her hips, and held my body close to hers. She moved back against me, pressing her hips back against mine. I imagined her then, on my bed, on her hands and knees, my hands massaging and spreading her ass.

"Are you very tight from your bike ride?" I asked, letting my hands move up the side of her body. She stood perhaps an inch taller than my 5'7" height, and though less curvy than me, retained a lithe quality in her body and movement that I found quite alluring.

"I had not been biking long when I found you." She answered my questions, both those stated and unspoken, with an economy of words I thought... tactfully direct. She had seen through and removed my pretense for touching her; that her bike ride had left her tired and strained, and perhaps in need of a massage.

"I see" was all I could muster in response.

She turned to me, kept my hands on her hips, and placed hers on mine. She smiled at me, then said with a grin: "But I'd still like a massage. Why don't you go refresh our tea while I get comfortable on your bed?"

I nodded, turned, and left the room. Oh, she was smooth. She was smooth enough to take her pleasure sans accoutrement, and expected the same of her lovers. It is not that she dislikes drama per se, I thought, but that the drama she wanted in the dynamics she established with her different lovers was that which all wanted. Which begged the question: What drama would she and I selectively add to our dynamic?

I pushed these future thoughts from my mind and set myself back to the here and now. I gathered our cups, refilled them with tea, and walked them back into my bedroom. During my absence, she had made herself quite at home. She lay on my bed, facing away from me, stripped down to a cute pair of black hip-hugger briefs. She looked perfectly comfortable. Her smooth back and legs spoke to her commitment to fitness just as the way she lay with her legs slightly parted spoke to her ease and sensuality. I set her cup down on the bedside table, causing her to jerk her head back around to face me.

"Oh, No! You're already falling asleep on me!" I teased her while sipping a bit of my tea.

"I told you I would get comfortable!" She grinned back.

"Comfortable, not comatose" I thought, but held my tongue. She propped herself on her side and with her free hand took her tea to her mouth. She wore no lipstick, yet the fullness and sensuality of her mouth stood out. I suspected men thought hers the 'perfect cock-sucking mouth' and I wondered if she backed up their thoughts with her actions. Lying as she did afforded me a view of her small breasts and very flat tummy. She seemed to me one of those women I see at the gym, with their personal trainers, exorcising the twin demons of boredom and frustration through extended repetitions on the Cybex Machines. I would place her age at 10 years my senior, yet she looked better than did half the thirty-something women my own age.

She sipped her tea silently while watching me undress for her. I shed my clothes with a certain practiced ease, adding my clothes to the pile she had created on the floor. Once down to my thong, I took her cup from her hand and motioned her to lay flat on her tummy. I made a show of re-adjusting my thong, pulling it tighter over my hips and letting it cup my pussy, and then turned back to her. She nestled her head into her arms and waited for me to join her on my bed.

I moved around the bed, letting my fingers glance over her body, and pulling her legs out and open. Her smooth skin warmed to my touch and appreciative moans escaped her mouth. I climbed on the bed between her legs, letting my hands glide up her back and down her sides. I worked back up her spine, pulling her back flat, pushing her deeper into my bed. With every stroke up her body, she lifts her ass off the bed, seeming to want to meet a touch or a tongue she will not receive until later.

I pulled her legs together, straddling her thighs under mine. I am sure she could feel it when I rubbed the crotch of my panties against the back of her thighs. I am also sure she also noticed when, after stroke of smoothing my hands down the sides of her body, I pushed her panties a little lower over her hips. We maintained ourselves, keeping this contact both erotic and impersonal, neither of us saying a word to the other.

I switched my body off hers, kneeling to her side, facing towards her feet. Almost as if sensing my next move, she lifted her ass off the bed, letting my hands pull her panties down her legs. Her well-toned ass revealed itself to me, with tan lines from a thong perfectly framing the supple curves of each cheek. The faintness of the lines told me she had perhaps vacationed somewhere warm sometime in her recent past.

"Where did you vacation?" I asked, conscious of using vacation as a verb, presuming she only took active holidays.

"St. Martin. Have you been?" She asked while I pulled her panties off her legs.

"Yes, but years back. I went to Club Orient. You?" I asked, dropping the name of a nudist/lifestyle resort while dropping her panties to the floor.

"Yes, that's where I went." She looked back at me and smiled.

"How'd you end up with tan lines at a that place?" I wondered aloud, remembering how I spent a week more or less nude during the day, with perhaps a fun party dress in the evening and never wearing panties save when I arrived and left.

"It's what was wanted of me." She explained.

"So, he was with you." I said, referring to the man behind her ring.

"Well, no. But I wasn't alone." She explained, and left it at that, as did I. Besides, I had a naked woman in my bed, and things were just starting...

I placed my right hand on the back of her neck then traced my fingers down her spine. As if by instinct, she parted her legs as my hand approached her ass. My left hand joined my right in cupping and gently opening her ass, then gliding my hands further down her legs. I leaned over, letting my nipples glace over her back, and then pulled my hands back up tracing my fingertips inside of her thighs. All of which made her open her legs just a little bit more. With every stroke of my hands, she parted her legs wider and wider.

I positioned myself back between her legs. I noticed how comfortable she seemed at that moment; her arms folded under her head, her back slightly arched, and how her curvy and slightly parted ass allowed me a peek between cheeks trailing down to the back of her bare and moistening pussy. Confident she would tell me if I touched her in a way she found displeasing, I continued my "massage."

I focused almost exclusively on her ass. My previous vision returned to my thoughts, of pulling her to her hands and knees, spreading her ass, and licking her from the base of her spine to the tip of her clit and back. Of letting my tongue part her lips, caress her clit, then slide into and taste her pussy. Of letting my tongue slide between her cheeks, feeling her relax, then pressing my tongue into her. Try as I might, I could not shake this image from my mind. Ambivalence abounded within me, for I would not want to move too fast too soon and have her flee my bed.

Perhaps it was that she sensed my mood, as all good lovers do. Perhaps she had the same vision running through her mind. Perhaps it was that I signaled my intentions by gently running my fingers between her cheeks, then smoothing her apart, spreading her ass before me. She flexed just then, winking at me. My hands moved down her thighs, breaking the moment, and continuing my sensual tease of her skin. Not content with this, she pulled her hands from under her head and brought them down to her hips. She covered her ass with her hands, and then in a move I could only describe as invitingly lewd, spread her ass for me.

She held herself like that, relaxed and poised, and so very exposed. My hands moved as if by her volition, sliding under hers, keeping her open. I leaned forward then, placing my mouth at the base of her spine, letting my tongue extend and make contact with her body. After scooting myself down on the bed, I let my mouth move lower on her with a series up upward cat-licks until I found myself tickling and touching her ass with the tip of my tongue. She relaxed, perceptibly so, and accompanied by a quite satisfied sigh.

I gave her a few flat-tongue wet licks then pulled my mouth back to examine my handiwork. It seemed as if the fading tan lines curving around the top of her ass formed an arrow pointing down to her slick, slightly dimpled anus. Her ass slick with my saliva and dimpled from what I would guess was her enjoyment of vigorous anal sex. I should know; I enjoy the same. I placed the tip of my tongue against her anus, felt her relax just as I would have, and then pressed my tongue into her ass. She responded immediately. She slid her hands, palms up, under her hips, and then lifted her ass to my gently probing tongue.

It was with a sigh that she pulled herself from me. I pulled myself back to my knees and waited on her next move. She turned over, scissoring her legs in the process, then rest on her back with her legs wide apart. It was not just her lips that were bare, but also her entire pussy. The same tan lines that encased her lovely ass served to frame her deliciously full and wet cunt. She placed her right hand behind her head, used her left to spread and open her lips, and invited me to continue. Silently, I did.

The diamond of her wedding ring glistened in the ambient light in my bedroom, as did the pearl of moisture gathered at the base of her cunt. I do not know why I did, but I first kissed her wedding ring before I kissed her married pussy. She was heavy, slick, and fragrant. I let myself inhale her scent before she used her hand to pull my mouth to her cunt. I kissed her full on the lips before letting my tongue slide between her lips while my hands reached under and cradled her ass, lifting her to me. She needed more, she wanted a more direct sensation, and directed my mouth with both hands to her engorged clit.

I wasted little time using my tongue and mouth to massage, lick, and suck her clit harder and harder. I wanted to feel her pulsing on my tongue, feel her ass clench in my hands and her thighs press against my face; I wanted her to forget all but the sensation of my mouth pleasuring her. The ease of her tensions higher matched my increased tempo of gently sucking her clit deeper into my mouth. Suspecting she wanted even more, I guided the middle finger from my left hand to her slick ass, and then let her own rocking motion slide my finger deep into her ass. I was correct; she does enjoy anal sex.

My right hand went to her cunt, using my ring and middle fingers to part and then penetrate her lips. She, by now, had fingers from both of hands just as deeply entwined in my hair as mine were in her body. She rocked herself deeper onto both sets of my fingers, each slick and sliding inside of her. I spread and curled my two fingers in her cunt, massaging her spot as my mouth moved back to her clit. I licked and sucked her, felt her clit tremble under my tongue, felt her ass clench my finger while she rocked her hips back and forth on my hands, easing my fingers deeper into her pussy. She moved her hands from my hair to her knees, pulling her legs back and up, spreading herself even wider for my mouth and fingers. I pulled the middle finger from my left hand back from her ass, sensed her missing this penetration, how she yearned for renewed stretching and probing of her ass, then easily slid both the middle and ring fingers from my left hand deep into her ass. Yes, her ass was well used to vigorous and deep penetration.

She began writhing, moaning, pushing herself back to meet the thrusts of my fingers deep into her cunt and ass. While my inner fingers curled and massaged her pussy, my outer fingers spread and held her outer lips, leaving her clit deliciously exposed for my tongue and mouth. I sucked her again, hard. I pursed and pulled her clit with my lips, sluiced my tongue over her clit, formed a groove with my tongue and sucked her deeper and deeper in time with my fingers in her cunt and ass. She rocked in time with me; she let herself feel her body respond to my passion, and pushed down until my fingers could go no further into her body. She held her legs open for me in a perfect V, then forcefully closed her thighs around my face, and pulled my hair, pulling my face deeper into her. She was so close and I would not relent; not for the entire world would I let up from her. Her tensing increased, her clenching my fingers in her body, her clit twitching and pulsing in my mouth, and then with a violent arch and an exasperated and quite vocal moan she released to me, cumming for me, let these sensations overtake her body, let her cunt and ass and clit and legs release against my body.

I moved my mouth from her clit to her flat tummy, kissing and nuzzling against her. I let slide from her cunt the two fingers from my right hand, which then smoothed over her hips to under her lower back. My fingers in her ass I in place, holding her close, which I knew to be the correct sensation; having my ass still penetrated after orgasm counts as one of my favorite sensations. I moved up on her body then, pressing the heel of my left hand against the base of her cunt, then kissing and nibbling each of her small erect nipples in turn. Her hands went to the back of my head as she emerged from her post-orgasmic haze, pulling my mouth from one nipple to the next as she wanted. Finally, with my fingers still in her ass, she brought my mouth to hers. There was no small kiss in either of our vocabularies, no shared peck on the lips or cheek; her open mouth invited mine to lock with hers. She began sucking my tongue, making me fuck her mouth with my tongue, and then I began fucking her ass again with my fingers.

My right hand supported her back, pulling her to me, holding her body against mine. Her hands pulled my face to her, trying to somehow make our kiss even deeper, longer, wetter. I pressed my bare breasts against her, felt the familiar sensation of our erect nipples rubbing against our bodies, our breasts; felt her heart beating against my chest. Scissoring her left leg between mine, I then used my fingers in her ass to pull her to her side against me. She threw her left leg far over my hips, up on my body, curled to press her body against mine, keeping her ass spread for me. I could tell that, from the sensations of my mouth on hers, my breasts on hers, and my fingers sliding in and out of her ass, She was going to cum again.

Her fingers curled and pulled my hair. Her mouth gaped open then closed repeatedly, closing around my tongue and mouth. Finally, dismissing the idea of concentrating on our kiss, she pulled my mouth to her neck. Her hands went to my back, her fingers digging into me, her nails raking my back as I pressed the heel of my palm against her cunt and my fingers fucked her ass. She was so close again so quickly! I would not relent, my fingers now almost slamming into her ass, her moaning with every movement of mine. I pulled my right hand to the back of her head, pulled her head back by her hair, and yanked her face into my vision. Her eyes locked onto mine, she bared her teeth as a cornered animal bares its fangs, and she almost hissed at me. I grasped her hair even tighter; pulling her head back holding her in place, watched her mouth remain open gasping for air. She pressed her nails into my back, pulled them long and deep against me, so much so that I knew I would have marks there the next day. This rich bitch wanted this rough, hard, vigorous, and violent. And nasty... With my fingers still slamming into her ass, I pulled her head back one final time, opening her mouth and exposing her tongue, then formed in my mouth an ample amount of saliva that I then spit into hers.

That sent her over the edge. That is it, I thought: This is the drama she wants, the sensations she needs; the meeting of her mind and body needed for complete and total surrender: She needs to be the rich bitch fucked like a nasty slut. Oh, and was I ever very happy to oblige. I slipped my thumb into her cunt and pressed it against my fingers in her ass. I rubbed them together, repeatedly making circled in her, connecting the sensations in her cunt and ass. That is all she needed... she pulled me to her, curled her fingers and scratched her nails down my back, and came for me again. Not a thing separated her body from mine, not a single notion separated her from what she wanted; this nasty slut fucked her ass and cunt against my hand and came and came and came.