A Bad Man in a Bad Place

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I met The Writer at the Museum of Natural History to see Sonic Vision, and when I arrived I discovered that it was also Jazz night. Our plans were to meet at 7:30 to go see the show at 8. Only the show was at 8:30, which meant that the tardiness we both suffered from was inconsequential and we had a chance to catch up and listen to jazz. Sonic Vision itself was good, I’d seen it once before, and an off handed “would you like to get a drink or dinner or some such” yielded a yes. As I live downtown and know little about the world up there, I offered her the choice of coming to my neighborhood or of finding a place up there. She agreed to come downtown, so we walked to the subway and hopped the E.

I realized that I was having an excellent time when I noticed that we’d missed our stop on the train because I was so busy listening to her, and we ended up going one stop too far. I laughed at myself and asked if she could handle an adventure. She agreed, and we went to switch to the uptown train. While we were waiting, I gently backed her into a wall and kissed her, pressed against the subway grime. It was the first physical contact of the night, and she smiled in a way that I can’t even describe. Coy? Happy? Content? It was a melting smile and it stuck with me.

We realized that the stop we were at was in SoHo and she looked at me and said “Babeland!” I thought about it for a minute and told her that it closed at ten. It was 9:40, so we bolted from the subway, I grabbed her by the hand and we rushed to the Happiest Place on Earth.

We got there with three minutes to spare, just as another couple walked up. It looked like they were getting denied when suddenly the door swung open. I didn’t hear angels singing or trumpets or anything, but I may have imagined them a little bit.

We wandered the store, discussing the various toys we’ve got - she showed me how to use a riding crop - and I bought Lube and condoms. Can never have enough of either, I always say.

We left, and I dragged her on a forced march to a little known asian fusion joint near my apartment. Had a winding conversation including politics (mine aren’t quite the same as hers…) which I make a habit of not doing, and smiled inwardly at the idea of being comfortable enough with someone to go to Babeland with them and talk politics with them. We left and started walking again and quickly found ourselves in front of my apartment. “Can I convince you to come upstairs?” Sure. I made her a cup of tea, and we sat at my kitchen table and talked about whatever came up. At a certain point I put my hand on the table and she took it. An hour later I asked if she’d stay the night. She agreed, and we promptly took off her clothes and got into bed.

Have you ever noticed that some people feel more comfortable than others? Their skin temperature is more comfortable, your hands fit together, and generally you don’t get the impulse to squirm away from them? This was one of those experiences. I didn’t know if I should hold onto her or fuck her. I opted for the latter. And I’m glad I did - it was hands down the best sex I’ve had in quite some time. It made me remember what I liked about sex in the first place, why I haven’t been having it so much since the New Yorker, and now I plan to have it more again.

When I got to the bed she was laying on her stomach, ass invitingly in the air. I gave it a slap, then two, then more and hard. Certain asses beg to be slapped. Hers is certainly at the top of the list. Some talking and making out and more ass slapping ended in me rolling on a condom and getting on top of her.
After what seemed alternately like five minutes and two hours - in that fucking-time that seems to slow down and speed up with every thrust - I realized that not only was it 5:15 in the morning, but that I was starting to get a little worn out. I grabbed her by the hips and tried to pull her on top of me. She looked at me and asked “What are you trying to do? I don’t want to do any of the work, I’m tired.”

I rolled her onto her back and started laughing, which I couldn’t stop. I left her alone, mostly. As we lazed towards sleep, I grabbed one of her breasts, gently pulling on it, rubbing her nipple with my thumb, and talking our way to sleep.

We slept late the next morning, and around 2:30 realized we hadn’t eaten anything. I offered to make pancakes.

“Do you like bacon? Orange juice?” Yes and Yes.

“You know what would be perfect right now? If I had a slave chained to the radiator who we could have make breakfast for us.”

She smiled and agreed. “Then you wouldn’t have to get out of bed.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mental note. Start looking for a slave. [Applications here...]

We got dressed, had breakfast in the kitchen, and then slipped back into the bedroom again. More spanking ensued, followed by a fantastic blowjob, and at a certain point she looked me in the eye and said “you really like spanking me, don’t you. Do you want to keep using your hand?” “I have a paddle in here somewhere.” She smiled. I pulled out the paddle and started in with the softer leather end and was rewarded with smiles and moans. I turned it over and used the leather covered metal end which brought more moans and more smiles.

The rest of the day entailed laying around and being disappointed that we had things to do later that night. I invited her back after dinner, but she turned me down, telling me that she didn’t want to wear out her welcome. While I was disappointed not to see her for the rest of the night, I appreciate her point.

When 7:15 rolled around I realized I had to be off to dinner by 8 and she had to be off to drinks at the same time. I proposed a shower, either alone or together.

I washed her, and stood happily as the steam coated us both. Before letting her out, there were more spankings, and my fingers lodged deeply in her pussy and ass.

We toweled off and dressed, and agreed to see each other again soon. I walked her to the corner of the block with the bar she was aiming for, gave her a discrete kiss, and walked up the block happy.