continued to do so, thankfully. And if that doesn’t, then the ‘tinkering’ I do to her warm milk at night, spaces her out enough to complete the job. The bottom line is, she’s not asking questions and her hurt feelings are taken care of.
However, on the not so thankful side of things, it seems the more I fall head over heels for the new star of my affections, the more she pulls away and shuts down. Which, I must confess and say, I do appreciate—unless I’m driving around New York city like a mad man, high as fuck and circling Summer Jackson’s Manhattan apartment at three am. Making certain the reason she hasn’t responded to my texts or calls is because she truly is asleep.
Alone. And asleep.
And it’s on these nights, well after the guys from work have left the bar, and Travis and I finally call it a night and go our separate ways, when I can’t sleep. And I for damn sure, can’t go home. So, without Summer’s bed to accommodate me, and with the copious amounts of drugs still zinging through my veins, I usually find myself with one or more of Travis Jackson’s preferred list of escorts.
Lindy is whom I’ve chosen to replace Summer with tonight. Same curvy, tanned body. Same long as fuck, blonde hair. Only Lindy’s not as tight, which sucks. But so does she…and very fucking well.
My fingers knot in her stiff rats nest as the head of my cock slips past the ring of muscles in her throat. “Swallow.”
I grunt the word out as my orgasm tears its way through me.
And thank fuck, she swallows.
Then purrs, her words are like molasses as she speaks in her southern drawl, “Baby, I’m fixin’ to take a shower.” she scales up my slick wet with sweat body, licking and nipping my naked flesh on the way. When her full pouty mouth makes it to mine, her teeth sink into my lip before she speaks, “I’ll leave some room, you’re more than welcome...”
Before the drawn out ‘…come’ finishes leaving her lips, the palm of my hand is connecting with the smooth flesh covering her ass. “Seeing as how this is my penthouse, I’m fairly certain I’m more than welcome to anything, at any time.” My fingertips bite into her hips straddling mine just before I lift her completely from my lap. I toss a pillow at her before sulking towards the hallway to the master suite. “My wife’s hall is on the opposite side of this one, use her bathroom to shower. If you need any of her things, you may borrow them. I just ask that you return them, and if it’s her clothes, have them dry-cleaned beforehand.”
I briefly wonder if it’s exhaustion settling into our bones that makes us feel old, or if it’s just being old. Then I scratch the entire idea as it’s redundant.
But fuck, I do feel old.
“Your wife? That casually, huh? Does she even know you’re here?” I didn’t realize how irritating her southern accent was until just now. She almost sounds ignorant. And fuck, I had ignorance. After counting to three while glaring at my blood-shot eyes in the mirror’s reflection, I lean over the party favor leftovers from last night, snorting up a line and a half. Then I growl over my shoulder, “Does it matter? No. She doesn’t even know where here is, so how could she know I’m here.”
I see her blonde head peek around the double whitewashed doors. “But her things are here. And I’m supposed to return them in the manner of which I used them. So, why…that doesn’t make sense.” She sashays, still naked, into the bathroom before linking her arms around my waist and pressing the front of her body to the back of mine. I feel her warm lips press the skin between my shoulder blades, and the sensation of her mouth on my skin and the coke in my veins makes my cock stir back to life.
“Baby girl, if you’re looking for sense and sensibility, I suggest you search Jane Austen, and if you’re planning on making a living being an escort, you should learn to shut the fuck up. Now, you just lost your
However, on the not so thankful side of things, it seems the more I fall head over heels for the new star of my affections, the more she pulls away and shuts down. Which, I must confess and say, I do appreciate—unless I’m driving around New York city like a mad man, high as fuck and circling Summer Jackson’s Manhattan apartment at three am. Making certain the reason she hasn’t responded to my texts or calls is because she truly is asleep.
Alone. And asleep.
And it’s on these nights, well after the guys from work have left the bar, and Travis and I finally call it a night and go our separate ways, when I can’t sleep. And I for damn sure, can’t go home. So, without Summer’s bed to accommodate me, and with the copious amounts of drugs still zinging through my veins, I usually find myself with one or more of Travis Jackson’s preferred list of escorts.
Lindy is whom I’ve chosen to replace Summer with tonight. Same curvy, tanned body. Same long as fuck, blonde hair. Only Lindy’s not as tight, which sucks. But so does she…and very fucking well.
My fingers knot in her stiff rats nest as the head of my cock slips past the ring of muscles in her throat. “Swallow.”
I grunt the word out as my orgasm tears its way through me.
And thank fuck, she swallows.
Then purrs, her words are like molasses as she speaks in her southern drawl, “Baby, I’m fixin’ to take a shower.” she scales up my slick wet with sweat body, licking and nipping my naked flesh on the way. When her full pouty mouth makes it to mine, her teeth sink into my lip before she speaks, “I’ll leave some room, you’re more than welcome...”
Before the drawn out ‘…come’ finishes leaving her lips, the palm of my hand is connecting with the smooth flesh covering her ass. “Seeing as how this is my penthouse, I’m fairly certain I’m more than welcome to anything, at any time.” My fingertips bite into her hips straddling mine just before I lift her completely from my lap. I toss a pillow at her before sulking towards the hallway to the master suite. “My wife’s hall is on the opposite side of this one, use her bathroom to shower. If you need any of her things, you may borrow them. I just ask that you return them, and if it’s her clothes, have them dry-cleaned beforehand.”
I briefly wonder if it’s exhaustion settling into our bones that makes us feel old, or if it’s just being old. Then I scratch the entire idea as it’s redundant.
But fuck, I do feel old.
“Your wife? That casually, huh? Does she even know you’re here?” I didn’t realize how irritating her southern accent was until just now. She almost sounds ignorant. And fuck, I had ignorance. After counting to three while glaring at my blood-shot eyes in the mirror’s reflection, I lean over the party favor leftovers from last night, snorting up a line and a half. Then I growl over my shoulder, “Does it matter? No. She doesn’t even know where here is, so how could she know I’m here.”
I see her blonde head peek around the double whitewashed doors. “But her things are here. And I’m supposed to return them in the manner of which I used them. So, why…that doesn’t make sense.” She sashays, still naked, into the bathroom before linking her arms around my waist and pressing the front of her body to the back of mine. I feel her warm lips press the skin between my shoulder blades, and the sensation of her mouth on my skin and the coke in my veins makes my cock stir back to life.
“Baby girl, if you’re looking for sense and sensibility, I suggest you search Jane Austen, and if you’re planning on making a living being an escort, you should learn to shut the fuck up. Now, you just lost your
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