The One in Which We Meet

“What time is it?” He asked, turning to look at the clock.

I followed his gaze as I wasn’t yet sure of the clock’s location.

“I just wanted to see how long it took you to get naked. You know, for the blog. What would you put it at? Maybe ten minutes? You are a slut!”

“It ain’t braggin’ if it’s true,” I replied.

It was just past 7:30 on Friday evening. I had boarded a plane in my city early that afternoon and was now naked in a Manhattan apartment, sitting on a sofa next to a hot Irishman, with my feet resting in the lap of another man.

And so it was that Jefferson and I met.

We began our correspondence in October when I sent a short note his way.

Also, when I fail out of school this semester it will probably be due to all of
the procrastination that I have been doing on account of your writing.

And by procrastination I mean masturbation.

It wasn’t long before an invitation to visit him in NYC was extended.

I'm doing my level best not to get all hot and bothered about you. But it isn't
working.

Have you ever visited NYC around Christmas? It's really lovely,
you know.

I accepted, and the weekend after New Year’s I packed a bag and boarded a plane to spend a few days with someone I barely even knew.

My plane was late getting into JFK and so I was still in the airport when Jefferson called me. It seems that he had invited members of his Bukkake Social Club to watch us have sex. Originally things were scheduled so that Jefferson and I would have an hour or two to get acquainted before the voyeurs showed up. Now, I would be arriving about the same time as the men.

While I navigated my way through the subway system to his apartment, Jefferson called again to check on my progress and give me an update. Our sex show now only had one other member.

Soon enough I was at his apartment building.

“Jefferson, it’s Anna. I’m here,” I spoke into the telephone in the lobby.

“Anna? Anna who?”

I panicked momentarily, not detecting the playfulness in his voice.

“Oh, right. Anna,” he said, “Take a right in the lobby and take the elevator up to my floor.”

The lobby doors buzzed open.

My heart was pounding as I stood, waiting for the elevator. It felt like it was taking forever. I fixed my lip gloss. The elevator finally arrived and I got on, pressing the button for his floor.

A minute later I stood outside of his apartment door. I paused a moment and then I knocked. This was it.

The door opened and there he stood. Jefferson: the man with whom I had exchanged sweet, dirty notes for the past three months.

We said hello to each other and he took my coat and hung it on the closet door. With my arms free we were able to greet one another properly. We hugged and our lips met. Our first kiss was deep and surprisingly intense as our tongues got acquainted.

“You really did pack light. Not even a little roller suitcase,” he said noticing that my luggage consisted of my purse and messenger bag.

I shrugged and he introduced me to “our” guest, the hot Irishman. I excused myself to the bathroom and when I returned I added my travel-weary button down shirt to the small pile of my belongings.

Jefferson was in the kitchen making drinks, bourbon for the two of us and wine for the hot Irishman. Upon returning to the living room he sat in his desk chair facing me, and placed my feet in his lap. He pulled off my knee-high boots, making note of their well-worn leather smell. He rubbed my feet for a moment before also pulling off my socks and kissing my toes. I lounged on the sofa, relishing the attention.

Jefferson had me stand up, and began to tug at my jeans.

“What, are these painted on?” He asked as he worked on getting my jeans over my hips.

“Eh, it may be a little bit of holiday weight gain,” I said, silently wondering why I chose to share that snippet of oh-so-sexy information.

My underwear followed soon after.

I was now sitting on the sofa, sipping bourbon, in only my camisole. That only lasted a minute, as Jefferson’s apartment was sauna-like, and really, modesty? At that point?

“Oh, you’re all pierced up,” Jefferson said, in reference to my nipple and navel piercings.

“Yeah, I used to have a double navel piercing,” I said, showing the closing bottom piercing, “but the jewelry came out while I was fucking. I thought I’d be able to find it when I washed my sheets a few days later, but no luck. And then I was really broke for awhile and I couldn’t afford new jewelry, and it was already mostly closed up.”

We sat, with our drinks, making small talk for awhile longer until the hot Irishman said that he, too, was rather warm and removed his clothes. Jefferson suggested that we move to his bedroom and asked the hot Irishman to carry me there.

Once I was deposited on the bed, Jefferson began kissing me and playing with my tits and the hot Irishman began eating my pussy. His tongue moved faster and faster over my clit, making a warm, wet mess between my legs.

Jefferson reached over and grabbed a condom off of the bedside table. He rolled it on and the hot Irishman stepped aside. My ass was at the edge of the bed and Jefferson stood at the end and entered me, my legs over his shoulders. His cock pounded into me.

I had been there for less than an hour and we were having sex already. It was delicious.

The hot Irishman kneeled on the bed next to me and I swallowed his cock while Jefferson fucked me. The hot Irishman was clean-shaven and I rubbed my hands over his balls and ass, enjoying the opportunity to become acquainted with a new body.

“I get you all weekend. Let’s give the hot Irishman a chance to fuck you now,” Jefferson said, pulling out of me.

The hot Irishman reached over and grabbed a condom of his own. He took over Jefferson’s position at the foot of the bed and fucked me while Jefferson kissed me. I was falling in love with this man’s mouth.

“Fuck me from behind,” I told the hot Irishman.

It’s amazing how easily a man will acquiesce to the demands of a pretty, young thing that he has his cock inside.

I turned over so that I was on all fours, and the hot Irishman remained in his position at the end of the bed. He grabbed my hips and he thrust and I pushed, my pussy and his cock, interlocking in a fast, frenzied fucking.

Jefferson and I did the best we could to kiss while I was bounced around on the hot Irishman.

“Look. Look at how gorgeous he is while he’s fucking you,” Jefferson said, grabbing my face and turning my head around to look over my shoulder.

The hot Irishman’s face was red, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in that agonizing way that can only be a result of sex.

I watched, greedily taking in his beauty, wondering how it was that I was lucky enough to be fucking this man.

It didn’t take long for him to cum and after he pulled out, he went to the living room to retrieve his clothes.

Meanwhile, Jefferson and I resumed our fucking with me on top.

“I have to get going, and you two seem rather busy, so I’ll just let myself out,” the hot Irishman said, returning to the bedroom,” It was nice to meet you both.”

“We’ll be here all weekend. Shows every two hours,” Jefferson said.

I managed something along the lines of, “Nice to meet you too,” and the hot Irishman took his leave.

Jefferson and I were alone now and I rocked slowly, back and forth on his cock.

“What, are you retarded?” he asked me.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Who fucks like that? Or is that just what you do?”

I grinned impishly.

“You finished off that strapping young man in eight minutes.”

Alone, Jefferson and I were able to get down to some serious fucking.

Somehow I ended up on my back, and the blows that landed were exquisite. His hard, closed fist smacked against the perfect, smooth surface of my thighs. He slapped at my breasts and at my pussy, making me flinch. My breasts pointed to the ceiling and to Jefferson’s mouth. Soon teeth marks ringed my nipples.

Looking at the angry, red marks that were about to become bruises scattered across my body, I felt beautiful.

It seemed as though Jefferson and I were going to get along just fine.