After Hours Affair

It was Monday. A day where most wallowed in their misery, complaining about the resetting of a monotonous work schedule; I awake with nothing but anticipation for tonight's festivities. The thought of melting my stress away under a Brooklyn sunset still gave me chills. It all started two weeks ago when I first walked into this hidden gem of a rooftop. The people were all beautiful, and red cups wrapped in multicolored fingers conquered my peripheral. The music, audible but delicate, vibrates the soles of my shoes with every lick of the bass. I had heard about places like this, but being relatively new to the area, had no idea where to look. That's where she came in.

I was headed home from work the day we first met. The packed New York City train was my daily reminder that hell is on earth, and the stench of a long day lingered above and amongst the other passengers. I cleverly maneuvered my hand down to my pocket, attempting to adjust the song on my iPod. That was when I saw her. She was standing by the door, facing the sun, as the train hovered above the ocean and traveled from one borough to the next. Her short, dark hair showcased her free spirit, and the black, complex ink across her skin confirmed her intellectual capacity. She looked back at me, without a fuck to give, and continued to stare. There was nothing timid about her. Her septum piercing and black pupils formed the mark of a beast. My hand, still in my pocket, fills up with flesh as my erection begins to throb. The train stops.

"This is Marcy," speaks the conductor.

A flood of patrons exit the cart, but I never lose sight of her. Awaiting patiently, she re-enters the train, this time greeted with her very own throne of which to sit on. She smiles and eloquently takes her seat. I slowly make my way towards her, attempting to contrive the perfect one-liner that will grant me the access I so desperately wanted. My left-hand grasps the pole directly above her, and I hold myself steady as the train sways back and forth. She continually stares into my eyes, forcing me to speak up.

"Long day too huh?" I utter. She laughs.

"You can say that," she replies.

Her sensual voice stuns me, and I feel the adrenaline shoot up my inner thighs. My right-hand, now out of necessity, attempts to mask my hard dick from imprinting my gray sweatpants. Gripping my thick shaft, I can feel my pulse-elevating and my mushroom head begin to swell. In an attempt to regain control, I speak.

"You look like you can use a drink, too."

"That's exactly where I'm headed," she replies.

In no way, shape or form was she nervous about it. It was almost as if she invited me before I can invite her. As the train reaches its next stop, she grabs her bag and begins walking towards the exit door.

Looking back, she says, "Are you coming?"

With no shred of hesitation, I follow in hot pursuit, allowing the fragrance of her skin to guide me through the hectic crowd. She moved like a swan's dance, contorting her body like the most prestige of gymnasts. Breaking free from the herd, we begin our journey together. We were perfect strangers, sharing a common goal: to enjoy our Monday night. She describes our destination as a pleasure palace, a place of erotic ambition. A place where the drinks flow and tongues are used for more than speaking. The more she speaks, the deeper into the crevices of her lips I find my attention. Finally, we arrive.

She guides me through a long, dark hallway, leading to a long, dark staircase. Cliché, to say the least, but true to its nature. The door opens, and the rays of a purple and orange sunset splash onto our skin, illuminating our imperfections. I can feel it. Intoxicated with pleasure, I embrace my new home. Looking across the astroturf carpeting, I see a map of tribes formed in this mini-universe. Each with their leaders, and their followers. Each with their expectations, and their desires. She wanted none of it. With the confidence of a great host, she bypasses them all, whispering in the ear of the sexiest bartender and walking away with two beverages, VIP. She never told me what they were called, but by mid-drink, our legs were pretzeled together near the leather covered mattresses by the DJ booth. I held her hand when speaking to her. The skin of her knuckles served as a worthy replacement, often used to mimic the motions of my fingers I'd wished to penetrate her pussy lips with. I couldn't get over the way she kissed me. It was as if this was her last night, and she wanted her brains fucked out. I must oblige.

It was Monday. My previous eight-hour shift was now a distant memory. The sun is setting quickly, and what began as an after-work drink has turned into an after-hours affair. The music is dimming and I look around to examine the current situation. I had been so lost in her mouth, the surrounding world had ceased to exist. The party is shifting, new location, new DJ. As the crowd begins to disperse, we slowly rise to our feet, silently contemplating our current options. One thing was apparent, we did not want our night to end. The thought of joining the family for another round seemed glum in comparison to what awaited us back at her place. It was fast, but we were comfortable, and the commute to my apartment would only serve to be counterproductive to our end goal. I needed her in my mouth, and I needed it now.

She lived nearby, which explained the location of her Monday night residency. Everyone knew her but didn't speak unless spoken to. It was all very boss, what a turn on. The walk is short, but she makes a point take lead, allowing me to worship her petite ass with every step. I wanted to dig my face inside of her, and never come up for air. She takes the first step up the stairs of a brownstone's entrance. The elegance of the architecture proves to be a testament to her acquired taste. Her intentions are made clear, as she fails to flick any light switches on her way in. She knows exactly where she is headed, and could find her way blindfolded if need be. She takes off her shoes, and the skin of her toes and heels, peeling off the hardwood floor with every step she takes, serves as an audible representation of her movements. Hand in hand, we enter the darkest room, where the plush white blankets across a Tempurpedic awaiting our arrival.

"Wait here," she says.

She heads to the bathroom near the bedroom closet, grabbing something out of the drawer as she does. The door shuts behind her. I remove my sneakers and t-shirt and lay comfortably on the bed. The door opens, and the once jeans and spaghetti string outfit has made the most drastic of conversions, as her body now displays the blackest and sexiest of lingerie. Her top, cupping her breasts together, creates a magic spell of her bust. Her black thong, connected to stockings of the same color, become my primary focus. I reach out to her in excitement but am quickly rejected, as she throws me back onto the mattress and assumes full control. She grabs the elastic of my sweatpants and begins pulling them down, running her fingers against my thighs as she exposes them. My hard cock, now making its entrance, slaps my belly button as my sweatpants pass the privacy threshold. She looks and smiles, as my grooming techniques have impressed her. All skin. She grabs my erect shaft, and with her index and thumb wrapped around the ridges of my head, begins sucking on my balls while jerking me off. God damn, it feels so fucking good. My natural reaction is to spread my legs further, giving her access to the flesh she so desires. She takes me over and plays my body like an Atari joystick.

Hunger strikes. I smack her ass, signaling her to mount. Without ever taking my dick out of her mouth, she rotates her body around the bed, sitting on my face in a 69 position. I am in fucking heaven. My nose, gently pressed against the wrinkles of her asshole, serves as leverage when I begin sucking on her clit. My tongue, back and forth between her lips, dives deep between her walls, constantly digging for her natural lubricant. I lick upwards, and coat her asshole in saliva, using my middle finger as her anal plug, while teasing her clit with my mouth. Our necks move in complete synchronization, as we aim to erupt simultaneously. I grip her waist tightly and suck on her pussy like the straw of a freshly opened Caprisun. She oozes in my mouth and the taste of her power makes me explode. She feels my volcano blast, and sucks even harder, draining every drop of semen out of me, complete relaxation. As our bodies begin to separate, she turns to me and swallows, sticking her tongue out as proof, what a dirty bitch. I fucking love it. I begin to gather my things, trying to regain some sort of composure. My legs tremble, and my body is in a state of complete bliss. I don't know where I am, but I know I want to come back. She walks me to the door and wishes me farewell. I reach the sidewalk, and before I can turn around to say goodbye, the door closes.

Today is Monday. I sit at my desk and wait patiently. I can't stop thinking about the possibility of tonight, as one could only wish to repeat such a phenomenal sequence of events. But if granted permission, if opportunity strikes and we meet again, if the sheets are still as white and the rooms are still as dark, then I pray she allows me the control I desire. It's five pm. Time to clock out. Here goes nothing.