Category Archives: meme

My (First) Sexy Saturday for their 100th Blog Post Anniversary!!!

I love a good logo, and when I saw the one for My Sexy Saturday, I knew that I would have to join in. And on what better day than their 100th blog post anniversary!

The story that I have picked is an excerpt from my anthology, Hot Summer Flings. I came up with the idea for the anthology on an ungodly hot summer day. I wrote the story based on my neighbor in Paris, who kept smoking in our non-smoking hotel.

And that is where the similarity ends!

“I am leaving in the morning, I’m going home to London.”
“I am in Paris for a few more days.”
“For pleasure?”
“For pleasure.”
“I want to give you some pleasure to compensate for the displeasure I caused by smoking.”
“It was not that displeasurable. I’m just a New Yorker, and I guess kind of like the Wizard of Oz I should realize I am not in New York anymore–”
Then she did not know where she was anymore, he kissed her and she knew they were going to but the charge she felt from that kiss finally coming to fruition…And not even on her mouth, his kiss on her hand that he took suddenly, and then her cheek near her jaw and close to her mouth but not there…

The complete story is in Hot Summer Flings.

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For more My Sexy Saturday, click here:

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Wicked Wednesday #173 — Dreams

Eliza sat at the bar, her legs crossed as she nursed her drink. Josephine, the bartender smiled at her intermittently. The sparkle of her own diamond engagement ring made Eliza blink so fast, an eyelash slipped into her eye. She blinked until the lash did not irritate her anymore, and took a sip of her cocktail. When the man walked toward her, she knew him and did not know him at the same time. She studied Oscar as he approached. 

“Waiting for your fiancé again?” he asked, sitting next to her so that her thigh pressed against his. 

Eliza saw Josephine look at them out of the corner of her eye, but Eliza was not able to restrain herself from pressing closer to Oscar. Not able to resist her making thigh press even more to his.

She nodded in response to his question.

Oscar put his hand on her thigh, and Eliza saw Josephine actually lean over the bar to look to see where his hand fell on her thigh.

“You going to leave with me again?” he asked. 

Eliza put her hand over his on her thigh.

“You wanted me here Eliza, you wanted me and now I am here…”

She nodded, and got up with him.

“Do you have a room here?” she asked quietly.

Oscar was quiet, and in her heart of hearts, Eliza had to admit that she liked him best like this. Rougher, and taking charge of everything. Taking charge of her. He took her hand, and they walked out of the bar urgently.

“I do not have a room here, but I cannot wait anymore…” Oscar said, his hand on her hip. 

They walked to a door marked “Staircase B.” And like on the staircase in the gallery at Fiona’s opening in Shanghai, Oscar kissed her. He pressed her to the wall, and it felt like a fever spread between her legs. Eliza was smoldering. When their lips parted, her mouth was still open as she panted.

“You want more?” he teased before he kissed her again, and held her face in both of his hands. He bathed her face with warm kisses, it felt like he was kissing her between her legs.

She had memorized his touch. Just as she was about to come, she was startled.

“Liza?”

Eliza’s eyes were slit, and heavy with sleep.

“Mmmmm…”

“You were moaning loudly in your sleep Liza baby, you were having a bad dream…”

She closed her eyes, heavy with sleep and deception. 

Rafe kissed her shoulder, and she curled up against him. He took her hand with her ring on it, that felt like lead on her finger. She felt the weight of it, even when she was not thinking about it. 

And she liked it, what the ring signified. When Rafe proposed to her again, she did not hesitate not to say yes. Yes to him, yes to wearing her ring. Her finger literally had felt naked without it. She said yes, and  Josephine had given them celebratory flutes of champagne with strawberries.

Her dream did not make sense, it did not make sense that she would imagine herself meeting Oscar all over again. But this time knowing him. Knowing they were going to go off together. Knowing they were going to make love again…

Until Rafe woke her up, thinking she was moaning over a bad dream.

He did not know…
More Wicked Wednesday dreams here:

  
bar photo with dreamstate filter by f dot leonora

Masturbation Monday No. 55

“Nichy, are you listening to me?”
Nichy turned and stared at Renee. She really had not been listening to her friend. After the call that she had gotten last night, it was the only thing that she had thought about.
Until she got to work that morning.
She saw Gavin as soon as she walked into the office. He stared at her, at first, but then he smiled.
Nichy looked around her in the as if she was afraid that she was being watched, then stared at Renee.
“No, I was a bit distracted…”
Nichy was happy that no one knew about her and Gavin, except her and Gavin. It was awkward to be back in her real life, well, what was now her real life after seeing Dorian.
And the phone call…
Renee shrugged,
“Not a big deal anyway. I should have hooked up with you or Gavin instead of Tyler.”
Nichy was still distracted, but then Renee’s words sunk in.
“Me?”
“Well, you know…you acted like it did not happen but…something could have happened when I stayed over with you…” Renee grinned shyly, and stirred her drink. “I mean I was only ever with a girl in college to try it you know? But that night with you, you put me in the mood again…”
Again Renee’s words sunk in slowly, but this time it was stark background music as she saw Gavin.
He did not avoid looking at her, but she knew that it was because he did not want it to seem like he did not believe her. But how could he?
“Gavin!” Renee turned around and pounded on the glass window so that Gavin would turn around.
Nichy smiled softly as he walked in. He sat down next to her because it was the only space. His thigh touched hers like it did the first day that they sat together in this booth in this bar.
But now there had been kisses, now there had been almost…and then this. Not knowing what to say to him.
Nichy still did not hear anything that was being said about the demise of Renee and Tyler. The silence between her and Gavin was so thick, that she was not able to hear.
“I am going to the bathroom.” Nichy heard as a delay, after Renee was already probably in the bathroom. She pressed her thigh to Gavin’s unconsciously, and she froze until he caressed her it.
“Gavin…”
“I do not know what happened Nichy, but I want to believe that you told me the truth. I want to believe what you said because I cannot turn off what I have been feeling. Maybe I scared you off…”
“Gavin…”
“Are you wet?”
“Gav…”
Her voice fell as he slipped his hand under her dress. The crotch of her thong was curled around her clit. His finger circled her bare wet clit.
“You do not owe me any explanation Nichy, about last night or about now and how soaking wet you are…you cannot pretend to be this wet…”
“Gavin, I never pretended with you. You always make me wet, even before we were together…before this…”
“Get the check, or at least get rid of Renee, because I am not going to let you have an option this time. I am not going to leave you alone…” He circled her clit like a spin cycle that she had watched at the laundromat. Her hips moved in time with his finger.
Nichy did not have a chance to excuse herself from Renee. Gavin got up, and made excuses that she honestly did not how plausible they were.
When she got up, she was so wet and slippery. Gavin caressed her ass, when they were walking out of the bar. She plucked her thong from curling around her clit, and that tiny sensation almost made her come.
She needed to come.

More Masturbation Monday here:

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washing machine via wikipedia

Sinful Sunday, Week 232: The Week In Review

Brooklyn, 19:50

  
Nolita, 20:36

 
Midtown, 16:25 
More Sinful Sunday here:

  

Wicked Wednesday #172 — Epiphany

Eliza stared at the frosted glass of the hotel bar, and hoped for some kind of epiphany. She was with Rafe, they had finally gotten out of bed.
Being in bed with him made her lazy, and her body craved the familiar warmth of his. He could not keep his hands off of her. She knew that she was an addiction for him, the same way sleeping alone was an aberration for her.
The frosted glass behind the bar made her see things in a frosted way.
Frosted and dreamlike.
Rafe put his hand on her thigh, every time he touched her it felt very right, but she still waited for the moment when she did not question. When she realized again that she did want to marry him.
She loved him, through everything she loved him and that was why it hurt so much. Why she had had to leave, and created the dream sequence that was her life since they were not together.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked looking into her eyes.
“You.”
He looked down, she knew he was not confident now. That her saying that she was thinking about him, did not have to be good. He looked down at her, his hand still trailed her thighs like he was trying to find his way…
“Your table is ready.”
Eliza looked up at the gorgeous woman, who was dressed in pinstripes with suspenders and whose eyes slid over both of theirs. Her name tag said Josephine, and they followed her. Both of them slid past her, incidentally caressing some curve of her body. Josephine lingered at their table for a moment, after she told them she would be their server.
“You are the most exquisite couple I have seen here for a long time,” she said. “It will be my pleasure to serve you both tonight.”
She walked away, her curves oozed effortless sensuality in tandem with the swaying of her body.
“Wow,” Eliza said under her breath, as Josephine walked away from them.
This was not the first time that Eliza saw Josephine. Josephine worked every night that she had gone to the bar, and that had been often. Rafe was the third man that Josephine saw her there with.
But Josephine had never said that she was exquisite with Oscar or Marcus.
Eliza knew that she and Rafe looked like a couple. They did not even have to engage with each other for it to be obvious. The fact that they had spent so much of the day in bed together, it was like they were still in bed. The way he touched her, the way she looked at him. 
She wondered of he was looking at Josephine, who was the kind of woman that made men and women alike look at her. Heads turned to follow her every movement, so that they looked like waves that splashed against her.
“She is beautiful Liza, but I do am not interested in her,” he said, reading her mind.
“I didn’t…”
“I fucked up with you so bad Liza, but I cannot live without you. I cannot be without you, you saw how I looked when I was at your hotel room door…”
Eliza look down at his hand on her knee, she still fiddled with her engagement ring in her hand. It had become so much of her identity that even if she did not put it back on, she needed to fondle it. She looked up at Rafe and studied the growth on his face, he did look haggard.
“But you will do it again. It is what you do.”
Eliza sucked the diamond on her ring looking at him, and he leaned to kiss her mouth filled with the diamond.
“Put it on,” he said in her ear, his lips lingering there sent shivers through her first and then the bristle of his cheek made her tremble.
Rafe got down on his knees and in an even more dramatic way than he had the first time, he kissed both of her knees and her between her thighs before he said,
“Marry me.”

More epiphanies here:
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frosted bar photo by f dot leonora

Masturbation Monday No. 54

Nichy clutched her vintage polka dot dress at the crotch, her fingers pressed into her labia and caressed her clit gently through the material. Her body was so heavy with lust, she could barely move. Walking almost made her come, because the tiniest sensation between her legs aroused her. She pressed her head to the bathroom mirror behind the door, and that coolness shot through her body like a current.

Sloppily she ended up on the bathroom floor, mindless of the cool tiles beneath her skin sending jolts all through her worked up state. She had spent her last few days with not one, but two men…but she was on the bathroom floor relieving herself alone. Unconsciously, her fingers moved like Gavin or Dorian’s had moved over her…there. Her sex felt silkier than any flower, as she caressed the skin before she tried to make herself come. The soft silky skin was not dissimilar to the silkiness of her favorite chocolate, that exploded like silk in her mouth. The part of her tongue where that explosion occurred throbbed now in time with her clit, which she was not ready to address manually.

Dorian was still staying at the hotel from which they left, to bring her back home. She was going to meet him there again. If for nothing else, she wanted to see him when she did not fear that he was going to abduct her as he had and because she simply needed to see him again. Being in bed with him, brought too many memories back to her…

Her finger dragged all the more over her labia, she felt gooey wetness when she inserted her finger inside herself. Her finger was clutched by her inadvertent spasms, and she just left it there for a bit. Gavin had used his fingers like this when he went down on her, and thinking about that made her involuntary spasms even more frequent. She was going to come without really touching herself it seemed. Between her legs was hot and wet, and the coolness of the tiled bathroom floor had disappeared for the most part.

Her phone rang, just as she had started to circle her clit with her dampened finger. Nicky rolled her head back and forth on the floor. She was not getting off of the floor, until she got off. Her hands sticky with her own pre-come, she pulled up her polka dot dress and rubbed her clit hard. She dipped inside herself to lubricate her finger over and over, because it felt best when she did it that way. Damp but not too wet, or she could not grip herself the way she needed to.

She came before she was even ready to, and she bit inside of her lip in the same place that she had bit it before when she came with Gavin, and with Dorian. Nichy got on her knees, where the coolness of the bathroom tiles was evident again and panted. She had come so hard she was out of breath, as she caressed her polka dot dress-covered nipple.

Getting up slowly, so she did not have a head rush, Nichy picked up her phone and subsequently dropped it. She pressed her hand to her head, and her nose was filled with her own fresh come along her fingers…distracting her from the ominous caller…

More Masturbation Monday here:

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polka dot dress photo by f dot leonora

Sinful Sunday, Week 231: Retro Legs

This is an old photo I took for another blog incarnation of mine, about magic which is following me as a theme…before I ever knew I would be a Sinful Sunday contributor…or make my first Polaroids Past hosted by the lovely Modesty Ablaze contribution…

There are no filters or effects on this, my early pics are raw…

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More Sinful Sunday here:

  
More Polaroids Past here:

  

Poet Guest Blogger: Jade A. Waters

I wrote this blog post, early in my blog career before I really knew Jade…long before she became involved in Pillow Talk , or we were both part of Chemical [se]X…because Jade is an awesome lady. Listen to her podcast with Rose Caraway, she is one of the most amazing and just completely infectiously wonderful people I know. 

I love that she chose to write about poetry, today because she reminds me of when I used to write it myself. She is able to flow from prose to poetry, so that you do not think about her form…you just think about how beautiful her words are…let’s flow into Jade…

Hello everyone! I am delighted to be here today, thanks to the fabulous Miss F Dot inviting me to visit—what a sweetheart! And, since Leonora happens to be one of the most supportive and enthusiastic people I know when it comes to my poetry writing, it seemed fitting that I talk a little about the art of poetry.
Now, before I begin, I must preface this entire this post with an acknowledgment that I am not a true scholar of poetry. I took maybe three workshops and read four books on poetry in my entire life, and at one point I did teach a short workshop, so I could probably whip out some serious terminology if need be (with a manual readily in hand)—but none of that could really allow me to share any more than my own personal experience. Which is to say that, having tried numerous styles and forms, I’ve found I prefer poetry to be a big wide open field to run free in, with no rules boxing me in. Whereas in a story I am crafting with an actual arc in mind, poetry feels completely different—it’s like spilling lines all over a page in an extremely chaotic manner: willy nilly, on a whim, and without any structure or regularity like I plot in my fiction.
All that aside—I do find I keep some straightforward strategies in mind, which are rooted in the verse I wrote in my youth. I’m a pretty happy person, but then, while there was some chaos around me, I found I needed an outlet…and poetic snippets became that very outlet. The goal then was to write an angry rant to the person causing me pain, and since I tend toward the dramatic but generally prefer being nice, I guess my young brain thought the best way to ration this anger was to put it in verse. Then it was pretty anger in neat, organized, flowing lines. ☺ It grew a bit more angsty by my teen years (doesn’t everyone’s?) and tended to center around boys, but I figured out it wasn’t about the rhyme or structure. It was about the message I was trying to convey, and to whom. I remember constantly imagining dropping my journal so whoever I’d intended the message for would finally get it—so when I wrote, I did it as though I had a microphone, and I was finally able to tell the objects of my affection every little thing that was happening in my head.
While most of the stuff I wrote then is utter crap (heck, lots of it still is), the act of writing with all that anger, hurt, and desire provided massive practice in the one to five poems I was writing in a single day. And the strategies I used then still hold when I write poetry now:
Know your intended audience. 

Know your message.

Spill it on the page like you’re gushing a secret.
Ursula Le Guin recently said there’s no fancy recipe to writing something, and while I’m no Le Guin (if only!), I have to agree. You have to find what works for you, and in my case, the first two guidelines are what I must know before I sit down to write any piece of poetry, and the third follows rather naturally from there.
Okay, so now that you’ve heard my rambly how-to (without really being a how-to) backstory on writing poetry, I thought I’d share two brand new poems to demo what I’m up to behind the scenes.
This first one got tapped out on my phone last week while I was on an elliptical machine at the gym. It’s a bit on the silly side, but for demonstrating the strategies I mentioned, I think it works:

THE ROWER
I watched you on the rowing machine

(Well, tried not to watch

Is how it really went for me),

Hair slicked back as I worked over here

Sweat rolling down the sides of my face,

Letting me imagine what it would be like

Trailing down those sleek sides of yours,

Over the lines of muscle crossing 

Your abs, chest and back

(Oh, that back)

Flexing with every shift you make

On that little seat, back and

Forth, back and forth…

I don’t mean to sound smitten,

That’s why I’m biting my tongue

(Imagining biting your tongue)

Wondering if it would be advisable to 

Introduce myself, here, in this gym—

To risk my special haven

For those eyes.

But…well now. Wait a minute.

It seems I’m not the only one taking peeks here.

I blush when I look at you—

Because you are staring too. 

I turn back to my machine

(That’s why I’m here, right? 

Not crushes or lust or love—

Just this godforsaken equipment),

But when I look again

The rowing machine is deserted.

You clear your throat and I nearly jump—

You’re standing right next to me.

You say, “So I was wondering

For every mile that I rowed

If you might be interested

In going out to grab a drink—

After you’re done working out

Of course.”
I smile, and I don’t even care that

I’ve got sweat in my eyes

(It doesn’t seem like you do, either).

You smile back when I say yes. 

This machine may be

Kicking my ass,

But I’m thinking that

Drink with you?

That is the best reward

For calories lost

That I could ever dream.

All right. I chose this one because it came to me quickly and easily as far as the strategies I tend to employ. It’s certainly not my best (not even close), but the intention is clear: woman has a crush on gym gentleman (audience) and she wants to share it (message). I’d actually spotted a man sweating rather nicely on a rowing machine when I walked into the gym, and I thought, What if he was the type I tend to crush on and I wanted him to see me over here? How would I feel imagining his approach? And from there the poetic confession came forth!
Okay…now on to another, slightly more erotic poem.
LONGING ON THE SUBWAY
On the subway, I spot her—

Eyes locked on the pages

Of her book as she

Mindlessly plays with her hair,

Long tresses curling about

Her face, of which I can make out

The smooth brow furrowing

As she trails a finger along the lines

Of the text in her lap.
That’s where I long to be.
It’s those legs encased in the

Thinnest sheer fabric,

Crossed at the ankles

As she skims the pages opened up

On her clenched thighs.

From those glorious legs

I could build an entire fantasy—

She strips off her tights,

Showing me the smooth skin along her

Calves and knees, before she parts

Her perfect thighs and beckons me. 

She’ll trace fingers up her skin,

Along supple curves leading straight

To her sex, glistening and pink.

Heaven.
That’s where I long to be.
The man beside her jostles her leg

And she lifts her gaze,

She’s all smiles and laughs

And my vision shifts:

Me, tangled round those

Magnificent legs

Kisses making their way

Up her skin, over her hips,

Fingers stroking rounded thighs

And finding their way up to

All her sweetest spots

But the subway grinds to a halt.

When I rise to leave,

Her eyes meet mine

And I realize that in them—
That’s where I really long to be.
Some of you know that not only is Leonora a sweetheart, but she has amazing legs—this poem was actually inspired by one of her sexy leg photos. When I first saw the image, I immediately pictured a man spying her on the subway, completely captivated by the look of her legs and caught up in that—and then discovering she was much more than the legs (much like our fabulous Leonora). So again I had a message in mind (I love your legs but you’ve won me with your eyes), an audience (the reader, to whom he’s sharing this realization) and the secret spilling happens along the way.
Whether it is erotic, playful, or romantic poetry, those are basically the goals I’m employing before I start drafting. Even when I’m working on more serious, non-erotic poems, I have the same strategies in mind: who is the recipient and what am I trying to say to him/her/them? And from there I write it out like I’m confessing or sharing my secrets. 
So, there you have it! My thoughts on writing poetry. I know there are more poets out there, so I’m curious what strategies others use when writing their poetry. Do you think it through beforehand? Plan an arc? Work with rhyme? Choose a structure and work with that? Please share!
In the meantime, I’m sending a huge hug and a giant thank you to lovely Leonora for having me over today!

 

XX,

Jade

You can find Jade A. Waters on Twitter, and on her website. You can also find more of her poetry on her secondary site, Poetry by Jade

photo that inspired Jade’s poem, and is being used for the Prompted anthology cover by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #171 — Summer

Eliza rolled onto her side, her arm fell across Rafe’s chest that felt like summer to her. Their post-lovemaking felt like summer, she felt moist and sultry beside him. His body was so familiar to her, every touch felt like lovemaking so that when they did make love it was on another level. He grabbed her hand with a neediness that she had never felt from him before. It broke her heart on so many levels, to feel the emotion in his touch. When he entered her, it felt like he wanted to stay and never leave.

But she was not so sure that she wanted him to stay. 

She rolled onto her side and out of the bed, wanting to be alone. Just for a moment. The tiles of the bathroom floor felt like cubes of ice beneath the soles of her feet. The mirror greeted her with her fresh, roughly fucked countenance and hair. Her reflection disappeared when she sat on the toilet to pee, and she did not look back at the mirror when she stood back up.

When she got back into the bed, Rafe wrapped his arms about her. Eliza settled into his embrace. She was just about to fall asleep, when his phone buzzed. Her heavy eyes lifted, and she reached for it.

Sandrine.

She typed in Rafe’s password which was “allies,” since using her name would be too easy for someone to guess.
Are you with her? 
Eliza read the text, before she typed.
Yes.
This afternoon was a mistake, everything was a mistake Rafe. You need to stay with her…
Eliza put the phone back down.

Everything was bringing them back together, but she did not know if she wanted it. The feeling of summer in an air-conditioned hotel room from the intensity of their lovemaking. She was not sure that she wanted the fire that they always were together.

Even with Sandrine conceding for a second time.

She remembered the first time that Sandrine conceded. Rafe told her he would love Sandrine forever, the same way he would never stop loving her. 

“The difference is, ” he told her that summer. “is that I want to be married to you eventually.”

The gleam of her engagement ring in her periphery vision, made her pick it up. Rafe had said that he wanted to marry her years before he proposed to her…

…and then he eventually proposed to her. The proof was sparkling between her fingers.

Usually when they made love, they got back together. She never expected to make love with him, get filled with all the summery feelings that he left her with and not know if they were going to get back together again.

If she wanted to be back together again.

Somewhere after those thoughts, she fell asleep and woke up shivering. Suddenly it was winter, she was freezing cold, even in Rafe’s embrace. He was cold and she was still trying to assess if he was breathing, because his body felt so cold. He did not snore, but his soft breath changed the rhythm of her heartbeat and she closed her eyes.

Morning would have the answer as to which season she wanted to live in.
More summer here:

  
garden photo by f dot leonora

Masturbation Monday No. 53

“Simi.”
 Nichy heard Dorian’s soft Welsh accent luring her attention back to him.
As if he already knew she was lost as Gavin walked toward them.
“Nichy?”
Gavin did not sound angry, which made Nichy feel even more remorse at the situation.
“Gavin?” she answered him.
“I knew that it was an overwhelming last few days, but you did not have to leave without telling me. You could have told me…”
“Gavin..”
“I was just telling Ilona’s husband, he is staying here. That is why I am here. I was telling him that I probably scared you off…that was why you left after the baby was born…”
“Gavin, I do not even know what to say, where to start…”
He stared between her and Dorian.
“It is not Sim-Nichy’s fault. I am an old friend of hers, I saw her and demanded she come up to my suite for a drink,” Dorian said coming to her rescue.
“It felt a little overwhelming Gavin. I left without fanfare, because I did not want it to be about me. I saw Dorian and he invited me up for a drink while I was going home.”
She looked at Gavin, before grasping his hand, caressing the inside of his palm with her fingertips.
“Nichy, we are heading back to the hospital,” he squeezed her hand back. “I will see you.”
Nichy felt herself reach for him as he walked away, but realized that she had to let him go. She had to respect what he was feeling.
“Are you going to go after him?”
Nichy turned on her heel to look at Dorian. She could see that he was sincere, but it was what he had done that got her in this situation in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, as if he could read her thoughts.
She looked down at her hands, and thought about how damp her panties were when she went to the bathroom before they left the room. Soaking because of Dorian giving her head so good, she thought she was going to faint when he made her come so hard. So hard, she held her hand to her head remembering it.
“Are you hungry, do you want something to eat before I take you home?”
“I am not hungry.”
“Simi…”
“It is Nichy now…” She put her hand up to his face, caressed his stubble. “I am sorry too.” Nichy had watched Gavin disappear through the doors, with an attractive man in a suit pulling a carry-on. She did not stand too close to Dorian, she knew that Gavin would still be looking. They made an attractive couple, she and Dorian had been one of those couples that everyone envied.
It was such a risk to be with him now, with all that happened and all the reasons why she had had to leave him.
But it was hard as hell to leave him now.
Even as she let Gavin go because she knew he needed to be on his own, she was also not quite ready to leave Dorian. They walked outside, his driver pulled up and got out of the car to open the door for both of them. Nicky got into the car, knowing she flashed anybody who was walking by and cared to look. Would they see how damp the crotch of her panties was in that quick glimpse?
Between her legs was cool when she closed them from the dampness. Dorian got in beside her, the feeling of his thigh against hers made her wetter.
There was nothing for them to say to each other. What did you say, when you had been abducted by your ex, who you had to leave for reasons that you still could not tell him and saw the guy that you were currently hooking up with in the hotel where you were held hostage?
Nichy looked out of the window, and placed her hand on Dorian’s thigh out of familiarity. She turned to look at him right away, his eyes already on her.
“Do you want me to remain a gentleman?” he asked, his hand over hers.
His accent was thick with restrained lust. Nichy looked down, and unbuckled his belt. He put his hand out to stop her, but she put the strap of his belt in her mouth and looked up at him. He slumped, sinking into the plush cushion of the seat as he helped her pull down his pants. There was already pre-come on his crown, and she licked it quickly to honor him. Every stroke of her tongue along his length was an act of reverence for her. The familiarity of the act soothed her, was sacred to her as she held his thighs. Her eyes watered as he bucked up deeper into his mouth, she wanted it deep.
She wanted to be messy from pleasuring him.
Her hand reached inside her soaking panties, cool and warm with a new wave of lust.
“Sim-Nich—“
He did not even know what to call her when he came.
Nichy pulled away from him sated, with specks of come all over her. Grabbing the tissue box from near the mini bar, she dabbed at her mouth.
I owed you,” she said, her eyes slit blinded by the moon.

More Masturbation Monday here:

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full moon via wikipedia