Tag Archives: masturbation monday

It was as cliché as she could have imagined, lying in bed with the Parisian sunlight falling on her. On him too, this time she would not ask what his name was because she really did not want to know.

He was a bad sleeper so he was not holding her, and the sheets covered his body in a disarray. He did look sexy, and she had had a good time with him,

But Mathilde was ready to go.

Running down the stairs, ascertaining that she had her phone, purse and looked nothing like she had had a long night she left. 

A cafe a few blocks away looked like a good option for coffee, and she sat down with her cup and the extra chocolates she had not asked for. But the man who had placed them on her saucer just under the dolie smiled at her with each one, like it was an invitation.

Breakfast—those tiny chocolates and coffee were breakfast before she decided what she and Paris were going to do together.

“You could have at least gone to a cafe across town so you would have no chance of seeing me,” Mathilde cringed when she heard the statement from the man she had just left. The timbre of his voice rolled under her skin.

She looked up at him and smiled. He pulled a chair next to her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you are a grand escape artist?” he mused aloud.

“Like Houdini.”

“You tried to leave before anything even happened between us.”

“But you made me stay for a bit.”

Mathilde felt her traitorous body respond to his proximity. Daytime brought about his fresh cologne, and another crisp suit. The man behind the counter looked at her like she really was a traitor, as she placed a square of chocolate on her mouth.

“I did.”

“Don’t you have a conference to go to?”

“It is Saturday, so no. Nice to be on vacation and lose track of time like that!” he laughed.

Mathilde nodded as her mouth was flooded with decadent chocolate.

His kiss tasted like chocolate. Back in his bed, Mathilde looked up at him as he moved on top of her. He was not inside of her, but pinned her down with his naked body and she liked the feeling of it. She was wet from when she sat at the cafe with him, and the hunger between her legs meant she had had to touch herself quickly when she went to the bathroom to curb some of the ache.

She wanted him inside of her now, but he was intent on being slow and lazy about it. And being that she did not have anything to do that day, it was kind of nice to be lost.

For a little while.

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Mathilde hated it, but she was still with Aaron and she did not want him to go if she was honest at the moment. If at least for sex—she still wanted to have sex with him.
She still wanted to have sex period.
Just because she had left everything did not mean that she was not still a human, that she did not still have human urges. In bed with Aaron at his hotel room, where he still was because he had blown off his flight that morning she wanted him inside of her and she wanted him to be rough with her. He was not necessarily rough, but he was very specific about what he wanted from her and she gave it to him.
She just wondered when she would ghost him.
She was ghosting before it was a thing in Urban Dictionary—she just left when she was ready, and became someone else.
But she was not ready to do that yet, sitting cross-legged on Aaron’s bed where he surprised her and instead of takeout or room service he cooked. Mathilde was not opposed to cooking when she had time, she would not have had time if there was room service to be ordered for sure!
He placed a disposable plate in front of her, and served her crispy orange chicken that was better than anything she had ordered from a Chinese restaurant, so good and filled with vegetables that she did not need rice.
She ate with chopsticks that he had in his suitcase.
“You keep chopsticks in your suitcase?” she asked him.
Aaron looked at her, his eyes sliding down her body.
“I travel a lot, so I cook a lot in hotels and need condiments and utensils for when I do so I keep them
in my suitcase.”
Mathilde got up and opened his suitcase. There was takeout residue at the bottom, like she might have found on the kitchen counter of her own apartment when she was not a hotel nomad.
As she was bent over the suitcase, Aaron curled over her and she felt her underpants shift against him before he forthright pulled them down her. He made it such a domestic scene between them, cooking for her in and out of bed. Her legs straddled his as he moved in and out of her in the bed, both of them looking far from sexy in regular underwear in the mirror but their faces revealed their deep pleasure.

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His name was Aaron.

Even as she tried to keep it anonymous—and Mathilde had been successful for the most part….Aaron lingered for the early morning after they were together, but she escaped him with a kiss. A long lingering kiss, him pressing him up against the door jamb naked and neither of them caring if anyone walked through the hallway and saw them. The doorjamb was between her buttocks, as he caressed every inch of her body like he was memorizing her.

She remembered him as she got dressed after he left, it had been an amazing night and she had forgotten how nice it was to be with someone more than once even if it was over the course of the night. And she was thankful for it.

And then he came back, Mathilde gawked at him and he took her hand.

“Good you are dressed, let’s have breakfast,” he said.

What could she say, she was hungry but she did not want to eat with him and his colleagues.

“You go, have breakfast with your colleagues,” she smiled.

“They all had early morning flights—frankly so did I but I blew it off…”

She walked with him, and they got into his car. The drive was picturesque. Mathilde loved big cities, and this city was big for where she was but not like New York where she had lived most of her adult life. In New York, she did not see the scene that she saw with the sky so vast and the sun blowing kisses at her.

The sun was still blowing kisses as she sat in the dinner with him.

“What is your name?” he asked, and his long legs touched her bare ones under the booth.

“Mathilde,” she said easily, not looking up at him  taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

“Look at me, I love your eyes.”

She looked at him, and it was on right away. 

There was a small puddle of people in the diner and the food was amazing. Mathilde got up to go to the bathroom, and he followed her—she felt him behind her. 

It was a tiny room, and she looked at him. 

“I really have to pee!” she said, and he nodded.

“I want to watch you.”

“Get out of here!”

“No, it turns me on. It is a fetish of mine.”

Mathilde really had to go, and had no time to play with him. She pulled up her dress and squatted over the bowl looking in his eyes. He really did look turned on, he adjusted himself as she wiped herself and he took her hand again to kiss it and lick her fingers before she could wash her hands.

“Do you have to go?” she asked flirtatiously.

He nodded and she really did like to watch a man use the bathroom she realized, even if she would not call it a fetish. He zipped up, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Their trip back to the booth was awkward since there were so few people in the diner, but they smiled at each other and held hands when they got back to the table. Their friendly waitress gave them a knowing smile as she placed their check on the table and poured more coffee.

“No rush,” she said.

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gorgeous image by Molly!

Like a bird in flight, before she could get off of of the edge of the bed, he caught her around the waist. Mathilde would not have admitted it even under the prospect of torture, but she leaned into him in compliance and with resistance. 

Were they still not going to talk? She did not really need to know his name, she just wanted the way that he made her feel. It was sublime, and she wanted to be lost in it.

In him for the time being.

He lie back, and he slid her on top of him. He wanted her to ride him, and she was not opposed to that at all. As they had demonstrated previously they worked well in awkward positions. Sliding up over his thighs and lifting herself to put him inside of her was not the most easy position, but it was instinct and she did it. Her eyelashes fluttered over the top of her cheeks, as she took in the sensation of being full of him again. He groaned under her and she felt the vibration of it under her, and it added to her pleasure. He must have felt her go limp because he grabbed her hips. She was sure she would bruise, but she liked that. She liked the feeling of having been used for pleasure.

Even if she did not want to know his name.

Later when she was dressed, and more in control she tried again to flee, but he pulled her back to him and kissed her forehead. He was tender for a stranger and she appreciated that. But then he her turned around and lifted her face up to his. Mathilde was quiet as she looked into his eyes, he looked down at her and she gulped from his sexiness and in anticipation of the potential end of their silence.

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Mathilda sat on the edge of the bed avoiding her reflection. Harry’s associate was still sprawled on the hotel bed, and she was not sure how she was going to escape the room.

She felt trapped.

They had had a good night. He came back later after Harry had left with the other men. She was still at the strip club, and one of the dancers seemed to take a shine to her, and lingered at her pole looking at her. Her dance was slow, seductive and mesmerizing, as she held a lollipop in her mouth which she licked while she danced. Licking the lollipop delicately, she made non-stop eye contact with Mathilda, who smiled and kept the contact going.

When she felt the heat behind her, and saw the dancer’s eyes dart away from her she knew he was there. He kissed the nape of her neck, and held her hair to the side. Mathilda leaned into him, and he pulled her close. 

When he tried to talk to her, she ran her finger over his lips to let him know that no words were needed. He pulled her close, and she was okay with him putting his hand at the small of her back and taking her to his car.

She looked out on the dark night, and they got out at the nearest hotel—which was not the one where he was staying at or the one that she was staying at. They got a room, and even though they used no words…

…Mathilda knew he was in control. He positioned her in ways she did not think she could be positioned, and she accommodated him. Mathilda liked to be told what to do—or made to do what her partner wanted. Her body was pliable for him, and the looks they exchanged let him know she wanted it and her know he was appreciative. 

Feeling like something from a circus, that type of contortion, Mathilda could not even believe the pleasure that she gained from that angle and that he had the stamina to control himself as well and move in and out of her.

But now, sitting on the edge of the bed, Mathilda was not sure if she wanted to leave, but she knew that she could not stay. She promised herself this time no entanglements—she was going to be free.

Free from what exactly? she thought, her long legs still tangled like a contortionist.

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Next week, will be Mathilda meeting Harry—this week the last time they met…

Sabrina was silent, she wanted to pretend she was a shadow. Harry jumped out of the bed, erection bobbing and wrapped his arms about her. From there, she turned from a shadow to stone. His warm body felt like ice to her, because she was shocked and because she had not been with him for such a long time.

“Sabrina,” he said, looking in her eyes. She looked at him, and beyond him. “I thought you left me, I thought I was alone.”

She supposed she could not fault him for feeling like that since she had not spoken to him in over a month. She had not answered anything he sent, and had been sleeping with Graham the entire time.

“Yes, I am just keeping Harry company,” Harry’s curvaceous partner padded over to them, and put her hand on Sabrina’s. Harry looked at the woman like she was a ghost, and Sabrina remained stony.

“This is Charlotte,” Harry stated as if he had to. “And yes she is just here because you were not.”

“You’re beautiful,” Charlotte said, standing before Sabrina. Sabrina stared as Charlotte moved in closer and closer. Their kiss was soft, and Sabrina felt compelled to put her arms about her.

Sabrina had no idea what she wanted right now emotionally, but sexually with this saucy woman and Harry who she had missed and craved was too tempting for her to say no.

Unlike the foursome that they had had with Gui and Carole with the mirror overhead, the mirror was to the side as she watched Charlotte slither like a python between her legs, all of her curves on view as she did. The mirror captured the dark desire between Sabrina and Harry, as he took her from behind. Charlotte worked herself over thoroughly, as the animalistic coupling took place shifting her on the bed. Harry felt like he always had inside her, but so removed from him he looked different. Even as her body trilled from the resounding way he made her come, she knew that she would not stay there after.

There was nothing to talk about.

It was a dark symphony, as her trilling still from orgasm body shakily rose from the bed. Charlotte still slithered on the covers, and Harry looked and sounded thunderous as he said, “No!”

In the mirror, it looked like a pornographic opera that would never take centerstage at the Met, but was more dramatic than anything that could ever be presented there.

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leonor fini image via twitter

Mathilda only went to the club because she was bored. Not for any other reason. She did not even want to be touched that night, but it had not prevented her from looking.

The club catered to voyeurs and maybe she was sort of one, but her interest here was really just to go to a different place than she had been going to. She had exhausted all of her options at her regular haunt, and it was just truly exhausting to be there. 

Tonight she sipped Montepulciano, and watched couples move together in the light and the shadows. There was one man, she couldn’t quite describe it but he drew her to him. Maybe it was the vibe he gave off like he did not want to be there. He was sitting with several other men, and he watched everything that was going on. And she got it—business trip and the mandatory pit stops that required a strip club or a place like this. 

This man was literally face to face with two women licking each other like ice cream. It was rather sexy to watch the two curvy women go at it. They made it look so real, like they could not keep their hands off of each other.

Harry used to tell her about stories like this when they were together. They would watch porn with stripper themes after sometimes, and he would look vacant while she tried her best stripper moves on him to entice him. It always worked, and she always ended up being rewarded with the pleasure he had not displayed on his business trips or before the porn.

Mathilda had enjoyed sex with Harry so much, she had loved him and maybe if things had not gone the way that they had she would have stayed with him.

Stayed for once and not run away from her life.

She put her glass down, and suddenly the bored businessman turned around.

Mathild dropped her glass, and the crash of glass did not make anyone really stop. Except for that man.

Harry…

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Mathilda had on a lovely dress for the ball–well it was a small ball at the hotel bar nothing special but it was a new year/new you. Although she had already had a new self, she was happy to expect even more for herself for the new year.

“Are you alone?”

Mathilda turned around, and there was a man  hovering over her.

“Are you?” she countered.

“Not if you join me.”

Well,” she stood up. “I am my own date tonight, and I want to keep it that way.”

“But what about when the ball drops?”

“We are not in New York, so that does not matter. Whatever it is they do here it doesn’t matter either.”

She walked away from him, and could feel him watching her so she gave him something to see.

Mathilda did not want to be alone when the ball dropped, she wanted to be with the person she loved the most–herself–but that didn’t mean that she could not bring her memories with her.

Alone in her hotel room, she remembered having a threesome with Harry, Carole and Gui. The mirrors above them and their bodies squirming about, and all attached with each other by one orifice or the other. She remembered watching Harry and Gui, and how it turned her on to watch them make out.

Sometimes she thought about Harry, how much they had meant to each other and how now…what could she have expected from him when she knew he was a voyeur regardless of any other crimes he may have committed?

But she had loved him watching her, and he would not have joined him watching her now with her dark hair about her and her eyes focused on herself in the mirror. He could pretend she was looking at him, and he would reach for himself like he had when they were neighbors.

Before she moved in. 

That was when all her troubles began–when she invested. 

She panted, as she came thinking about committing. It was lovely in theory but it never worked for her in reality.

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