Many thanks to my editor, BlueEyedBlondie.
This is my first story so allow me a brief introduction. My name is Anastasia, I'm 26 and I'm a lawyer. I have blonde silky shoulder-long hair, blue eyes and fair skin; I am 5.4 and have a slim body except for my breasts, that always make my size 4 shirts look one size too small. I live in Europe and English isn't my mother language although I use it a lot for work, my field being international business law. Please excuse my eventual grammatical or spelling errors. I've decided to write in English because I somehow feel that this way my identity is more protected, I've done crazy stuff in my life but now have an international career and I wouldn't want any of the 'main actors' to recognize themselves. I like to get into details, but I've made myself change the names of the people and the cities, leaving everything else as it really happened.
Most of these crazy events took place a couple of years ago, when I was still attending law school and partying really hard every week from Thursday till Sunday. My life at the moment is very boring, I work all day and work is all that I think about, since I'm the youngest in a very competitive environment. But until two years ago, it was a different story. Me and friends, all coming from wealthy families, were living a life unimaginable to most people. I guess our parents allowed us to enjoy ourselves because they couldn't when they were our age: my country passed from socialism to capitalism in the nineties, providing us not only new business possibilities, but also a new liberal way of thinking, influenced by the western culture. After somber decades of socialism began the age of excess. Without any supervision, with our parents travelling and working, we enjoyed everything expensive: the best clothes, the fastest cars, gorgeous apartments, yachts offering privacy for our parties, the most expensive drinks and even drugs, mostly cocaine. You can imagine it's a mix able to get an inexperienced young girl in a lot of trouble.
I started to write a diary containing mostly sexual adventures. It became a ritual that I performed on hangover mornings, describing the events of the past night or the past few days, depending on for how long the party went on. Writing it all down, not omitting a single detail, made me incredibly hot every time. I would masturbate myself reliving the moments or fantasizing about an even more wicked outcome. It seemed like I was watching a movie, with someone else playing the main role. Today I have that impression more than ever. The last time I went to visit my parents I pulled out my old notebooks from the safe in my bedroom and took them with me. When I started to read and to remember, I couldn't leave the apartment for the three days, the suppressed images of my secret life were coming at me at all moments, my pussy would swell and I simply had to get myself off. I've decided to type them and store them on my computer, it was safer than having those notebooks around. Still, instead of burning them, I threw them in the dumpster in front of my building, secretly hoping someone else would read them. That thought became my obsession, and one day I've had the idea to share some of my stories here, changing only the names and adding some explanations. I hope you'll like them.
I met Vincent through mutual friends, he was good looking, 7 years older than I was (at the time 21) and very successful on his own right (well maybe not completely: he owned a construction company, that owed most of its success to the fact that his father was the Minister of Infrastructure, getting him the best jobs in the country). He was witty and a lot of fun, always had time for me, took me on little trips. One evening we went out for dinner with friends, later we went driving around in his Porsche 911 GT3 and ended up doing some cocaine (he had an addiction but wouldn't admit it, as many of my friends at the time). It always made me horny as hell and he knew it. We started kissing and rubbing and then he started the car and sped on the highway. We both enjoyed fast drives. When he started to rub my pussy with his right hand I was already wet.
After a minute or two he stopped pleasing me and accelerated, leaving me only the possibility to enjoy the vibrations of the speeding car, transferred from the leather seat to my silk La Perlas stretched over my swollen clit. It was summer and I was wearing a dress resembling a negligee, made of gorgeous ivory silk with lace hems. It was sexy because the non-transparent silk part was cut quite low on my perfectly rounded breasts (I'm a full C cup), the rest being covered by the transparent lace, but not slutty because it reached the knee. I'm 5.4 and I love to wear high heels, that night being no exception: I've had on golden stiletto sandals that made my legs look a mile long.
I wasn't wearing a bra and the soft silk was caressing my sensitive nipples all night and I almost wanted them to slip out of the silk, over the puckered seam, to feel the rough lace rub against them. When I went to the bathroom during dinner I didn't dare touch them because I would have had to get myself off then and there. I have light pink nipples, with very soft and very puffy areolas that look so delicate when in their natural state, but when I get excited the nipples grow big and hard, changing their color to red and sucking in the puffy areolas, leaving me with two cylinders asking to be sucked. I wasn't wearing a bra and couldn't risk the transformation in front of his friends.
When he finally stopped we were in the emergency lane, under a pedestrian bridge that went over the highway. With a wicked smile he asked me to get out of the car. When I saw a hole in the security net on the side of the road just where the steps to the bridge began, I knew that he wanted to fuck me on full display for all the passing cars. The idea frightened me and excited me at the same time.