“Strip,” he said with only a hint of a smile. “The dress is lovely as usual, but you know I prefer you strictly in heels and jewelry.”
Ariel turned. “Unzip me then.”
Eric found the tiny zipper and pulled down slowly, then let out a gasp. Ariel turned and dropped the little black dress to the floor, putting a hand on her hip as she did.
“Voila!” she exclaimed. She was indeed in heels and jewelry: Black three-inch open-toed sling-backs and a black pearl choker. In between were, not clothes, or lingerie, exactly, but an elaborate leather and metal o-ring harness that managed to cover her entire torso and yet not cover anything at all. Her breasts were surrounded with leather straps that caused them to jut out provocatively. Her tailored mons was on display as straps wound between pussy and upper thigh but still left her exposed.
“Wow. That’s the surprise I assume?”
“Um, mostly, but there’s one more thing.” Ariel stepped from the dress and turned around, demonstrating that her pretty thirty-four-year-old derriere was as well supported and featured as her tits: The harness acting to both lift and separate, as they used to say. Eric whistled. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiled provocatively, then crossed her legs and bent at the waist. There, nestled between those alabaster round cheeks, was a black anal plug.
“Well fuck. That is a surprise.”
~*~
They met through one of her charity gigs. She had not been looking for an affair. He probably was. Things moved fast. Within two weeks of meeting, they were fucking. Her community group was working on repairing and enhancing a little pocket park in the neighborhood. They’d received a good-sized grant for adding a covered structure and a sculpted fountain, but it had to fit with the historical landmark requirements of the building next door. They needed an architect and they had three firms pitch their concept. Eric had a small firm based in the Meat Packing district, not that far from where the park would be in the Chelsea neighborhood. That was an edge right away, but when he presented, he blew the committee away.
Once Eric’s firm was chosen and the contract signed, Ariel and another woman were assigned to work with him on specifics. The other woman only liked to hear herself talk. She had no interest in doing any actual work, so it really left Ariel on her own. She met Eric in his studio and then they went to lunch.
Ariel was intrigued by what he and a designer on his staff had come up with and their conversation at lunch flowed fluidly. They jumped around from architecture to interior design, art, film. They made each other laugh. Ariel found herself drawn to him. He was smart, funny, loquacious, handsome. Yes handsome: Tall, fit, blonde, with crystal blue eyes. Maybe a little younger than she. An alluring package. But she found her attraction to him rather surprising. She loved her husband, and, while perhaps suffering from eleven years of same-old-same-old, she still found her husband desirable. They still had decent sex. Maybe not as often, and not as wild, but not bad. Why was she so distracted by this architect guy?
Eric had no doubts about why he was attracted to Ariel. She was smart, stylish, funny and she was lovely to look at. Her face was perfectly symmetrical. She had high cheekbones and a ski-jump nose with a scattering of freckles across the bridge. Beautiful full red lips contrasted against her milk-pale complexion. Her deep violet eyes were mesmerizing. A long mane of wavy coal-black hair was always featured in a spectacular fashion. When he commented on it, she laughed, “This is after straightening! If I don’t pay a ton of attention to it every day, I’d have a giant ‘Jew-fro’. ” She had a killer body. Great legs, mid-sized breasts that she seemed to enjoy showing off, and a great looking backside. This despite being in her early thirties and having had kids – her ten-year-old twin girls. Her husband was some kind of a big-wig financial analytics guy downtown. That didn’t put Eric off. It intrigued him more. Married women were fun. And this one buzzed with sensual energy.
Eric had a way of looking at her, and speaking directly to her, that was exciting. He wasn’t a leech or douchey, but he was direct. You knew he wanted you because you could see it in his eyes. And he told you. Ariel took pains to be attractive. She dressed to-the-nines at all times, often vintage pieces that hinted at her sexiness, but in a way that was so sophisticated, she was never judged. “Sure the dress was a little lowcut for an afternoon charity meeting, but it was seventies Yve Saint Laurent!” A coterie of personal trainers, yoga instructors, dermatologists, hairstylists, and the best damned plastic surgeon in the City made sure Ariel was always at her most attractive. And yet, it was different to be wanted than it was to be simply admired by other women or even superficially lusted after by men. Eric wanted her and he wasn’t shy about it. His deep desire was palpable. And it made her desire him.
On just their third meeting, again at his office followed by lunch, he suggested that they take a look at the loft he had in the same building that housed his studio. He rented it out as an Air BnB at an exorbitant sum when he felt like it, and used it as a retreat from work and family when he needed it. It had some furniture pieces he thought she might be interested in. She thought he might mean the Le Corbusier lounge – a favorite of hers — that they had talked about at a previous lunch.
“The Le Corbusier?” she asked. “Yes, I would love to see it.”
“Oh, yes, of course. We can look at that. But I really meant another piece of furniture. The bed.”
Ariel looked at him curiously, and then realized what he was driving at.
“I want to take you to bed, Ariel. I want to make love to you. Now. If you’d like.”
Ariel’s head was swimming. She could feel the blood pulse in her ears. She felt herself nod. He stood and took her hand and they walked in nervous silence a block and a half to the alley entrance. They road an ancient freight elevator up five flights and walked directly into a large open space with a fourteen-foot rafter ceiling, gnarled red brick walls, thick plank wood floors, and giant arched windows. The décor was a bit like a museum, with piece after piece of classic modern furniture and huge bold abstract paintings on the wall. “A few of these are knock-offs, I have to confess. We’ll see if you can tell.”
The loft was expansive with little interruption, except for a partition that separated the kitchen and the bathroom. The bath had ornate black and white tile work, a giant walk-in shower with four heads, and an outsized claw-footed tub that could easily hold two people. A California king bed was at the far end of the loft, separated from the rest of the space by open bookshelves and large potted plants.
“What do you think?” Eric asked, looking deeply into her eyes.
“Beautiful. Spectacular.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it. But what do you think about us sleeping together?”
Ariel looked away from him toward the big bed. “I don’t think there’d be much sleeping,” she said, squinting her eyes and twisting her mouth in exaggerated skepticism. “This whole place seems like it’s kind of built for banging.”
He laughed a little sheepishly. “I suppose you’re right. There would be very little sleeping.”
“Fucking. I’d expect there’d be a lot of … fucking,” her skeptical look turning into a hint of a smile.
“Yes, yes I believe that’s correct. Among a few other carnal acts.”
Ariel was at once intensely experiencing her own body, but at the same time feeling completely removed from herself, as if she was watching a film. They stood a few feet apart — odd, given the intimacy of the conversation. He in his Italian blazer and jeans; she in a plaid gray pencil skirt, black pumps, and a sheer white blouse. She could feel her pulse quicken and her breath shorten. She’d chosen a white lace demi-bra and her excited nipples were now fighting their way out from their minimum-security lace prison. She had a sudden urge to cup her tits and rein the escapees back in. “Gee,” Ariel thought to herself as she suppressed that urge, “Can’t Imagine where the guy might have gotten the idea he could make his move. Demi-bra under a sheer blouse. For a business meeting. What a slut.”
Eric closed the distance between them and leaned in, stopping an inch from her lips. He looked into her eyes. Ariel cupped his face and kissed him, just lips at first, then pulled him to her and opened herself. They embraced tightly and moaned into one another’s mouths. Eric put a hand on her hip, then slowly moved it along her firm waist and around to the small of her back.
“Shall we take this to bed?” he asked rhetorically as he swept her toward that side of the loft. She spun away from him. Her breathing shortened further, and she had the sudden sensation of the onset of a panic attack.
“No. Not yet,” she blurted. Ariel walked to the opposite side of the loft, where the Le Corbusier LC4 lounge sat in the corner of the living area. She stroked her hand along it. It was now or never. Fight or flight. She glanced at the large windows, shielded only by the gauzy sheer drapes, shrugged, and began to unbutton her blouse. Eric moved toward her. She held up her hand. “Stay there, I need a second.”
Ariel pulled her blouse free of the high-waisted skirt and tossed it onto the adjacent Barcelona chair; then wriggled free of the narrow skirt and added it to the pile. She stood there in a lacey white bra and thong, leaving her in black pumps and the diamond necklace her husband had bought her for Chanukah. Eric shook his head in disbelief at her beauty. Ariel smiled, feeling control — and her breath — come back to her. She slipped from her bra and peeled the thong off with a flurry; then stretched her naked form out on the wave-like chaise. The old leather had warmed in the sunlight and felt good and calming against her bare skin. She crossed her legs and stretched her arms above her. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She wasn’t herself. But something in her wanted to take charge of this affair. She wasn’t some desperate housewife from the upper west side, subject to the whims of this man, or any man. She was a sexy beast and she would call the tune.
“Now you,” Ariel said. “Slowly.” Eric laughed but did as he was told, adding to the collection of clothes on the crowded Mies Van der Rhoe chair. She fondled herself as she watched, running perfect nails along her rib cage and breast, while her other hand stroked the thick black down of her mons. He was quickly left in a pair of funky patterned socks. “Those are going to have to go,” Ariel said with a laugh, “This is a sock-free zone.” With embarrassment Eric attended to the offence and then straddled her, bracing his large frame with bare feet against the wood floor and his hands on the back of the lounge. Ariel looked up at him, pleased with his firm sinewy torso and arms, and even more pleased with the broad six- or seven-inch uncircumcised cock that arched a foot above her. She knew he wanted her to grab it. And suck it. And she would. But no need to rush it. As much as she wanted to taste the thick dollop of pre-cum that was about to take a swan dive off the tip, she was more interested in her own pleasure.
Ariel pulled Eric’s face down to kiss her. He now had a knee on either side of her hips, one hand above her on the lounge, and another fondling her breast. She kissed him, slowly, sensually, rubbing his chest, back, and ass cheeks, but avoiding his cock entirely. She wanted him bursting with desire. When Eric moved to her neck, and nipple, back to her mouth, and then repeated the cycle a couple of times, Ariel’s control began to melt. She grabbed his hard staff, stroked it a few times, and then pulled him toward her mouth. She hadn’t had a cock other than her husband’s in over a decade. She’d only had an uncut cock once in her less than expansive love life.
The difference was exciting. Not better. Just different. Eric smelled a little muskier. And his cock tasted saltier or seemed to at first. And of course, pushing the foreskin back with her hand and stiffened tongue was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Eric was perhaps a bit thicker than her husband, foreskin or not, but for sure he felt harder. He felt like warm marble against her tongue and palate. Eric rocked gently in her mouth as she thrust up to him. She grabbed his ass cheek and pulled herself to within an inch of his hard, thickly veined base. Ariel realized she had opened her legs involuntarily and was actively rubbing her wet slit. She moaned through her full mouth. She resigned herself that she would finish him. Despite a desire to establish her pleasure as paramount, she knew she was enjoying this too much and that she was desperate for a large load of a strange cum to shoot into her mouth.
Suddenly, the warm, leaking cylinder in her mouth was withdrawn, briefly replaced with Eric’s tongue, and then was empty except for her gasps, as Eric vaulted to the base of the chair. He grabbed Ariel by the calves and yanked her whole body toward him. Her round ass was now at the crest of the first wave of the chair, and her legs were thrown over Eric’s shoulders. He held her hips firmly as he buried his face deep in her cunni. She tasted delicious, and the delightful contrast between the thick matte of hair on her mons compared to polished smoothness of her sugared lips spurred Eric to eat her in a starved fervor. Ariel arched in an involuntary bridge, her mouth distorted into an “O” of pleasure and her hands alternating between keeping her from flopping off the chair and pinching her nipples in ecstasy. The heels of her pumps dug into Eric’s back as she came with embarrassing haste.
“Fuck me!” Ariel yelled. “Turn me over and fuck me!”
Eric extracted himself from her thighs and flipped Ariel as she instructed. She braced herself with both hands, flipped her luxurious hair and looked back at him. “Fuck, this is fun,” she smiled between gasps. Eric spread her legs wide so that she was splayed astride each side of the chair, and then he pushed into her completely in one long thrust. He spanked one perfect milky cheek followed by the other. “Yes,” she groaned. “Harder!”
He wasn’t sure if she meant the spanking or the fucking, so he gave her another round of each. Apparently, she meant both, because she was set off in a tirade of dirty talk. “Oh, you pig! Fuck me good! Come on, baby, give it to me hard!”
The rhythmic sound of his groin bouncing off her pussy and ass was interrupted only with her groans and the random smack of his hand against her now pink bottom. As their passion built, he reached down to grab her thick black mane and pulled her, roughly, up toward him. He held her hair with both hands, pulling her into him as he fucked her all the harder. Ariel’s words deteriorated to nothing but guttural grunts, “Ah, yes, ah, ah, ah, fuck, ah, ah, aaahhhh!” Her eyes rolled back in her head and saliva dripped from her mouth as she came again, this time more violently than the first. First, her right leg and then her torso spasmed uncontrollably.
Eric released her hair and roughly pushed her back into the lounge. He gave her two, three, four hard smacks on the ass before grabbing both her arms and fucking her with the pace of a washing machine on the spin cycle. Ariel’s orgasm had never really stopped and now Eric’s was perilously close. His mind froze and his breathing stopped as he hammered to his finish. His contraction started and then stopped, torturing himself involuntarily as release hung tantalizingly close like a lingering sneeze. When the chain reaction of his contracting glands at last reached critical mass, he groaned as if in pain, and emptied spurt after spurt into Ariel’s married pussy.
He collapsed on top of her, dripping sweat onto her lovely freckled back.
“Mrs. Eisenberg,” he laughed when his heart and breathing had slowed enough to speak. “You are an even better fuck than I had dreamed.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
~*~
When Ariel left the loft that afternoon, she told herself it was a one-time thing. Two days later Eric’s briny spunk was shooting down her throat as they sixty-nined on his immaculate gold-leather Florence Knoll sofa.
Oddly, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty. Her time with Eric was completely compartmentalized from the rest of her life. It didn’t lessen her love for her husband or her obligations to her children or disrupt her general sense of right and wrong. It was this thing that existed that was totally hers and separate from everything else and she loved it. Different conversation, different routine, different man, different cock, different surroundings. Not better; just different. The sheer variety alone excited and satisfied her.
It was this observation that helped Ariel to understand her enjoyment of the affair in general. Ariel had been with only five men before she met and then married David. A couple of boys in high school, another couple in college, and then, in her senior year, a professor. She had a crush on “Professor Jackson” when she had taken a class from him as a junior, and when she ran into him in the Quad the following Fall, they went for coffee. In the same way, Eric would be twelve years later, he was very direct in his desire for her and she put up absolutely no resistance. He fucked her bent over the side chair in his office that very afternoon. That started an affair that would last the school year. Professor Jackson was married, so their trysts occurred in his office, borrowed apartments, empty classrooms, his car, and rarely, in his house when his wife was away. The secret codes, the stealthy plans and the muffled moans were all part of the fun. That, and an in-depth and extensive graduate seminar in the carnal arts. When she met David a year after college she was as skilled as the highest-paid escort in New York.
She began to realize she was in some ways reliving her sensual coming-of-age and that she missed the endorphin-laced thrills that were unique to that time. She actively tried to bring a little variety to every visit with Eric and she was explicit with him that they should surprise each other, a little, every time they got together.
It turned out that Eric didn’t really make his living from his architecture studio. That was more like a hobby. His real livelihood, and the reason why he could make use of what was probably a million-dollar loft as his little retreat slash fuck shack whenever he wanted, was that he watched over the properties of his grandfather, who had pockets of real estate sprinkled throughout Manhattan and most of the Five Boroughs. While the loft above the studio was the easiest and most common place for them to get together, when circumstances warranted it, or Ariel desired it, they would explore the other venues at their disposal.
There was the time they had a picnic lunch on the roof of an apartment building on the downtown edge of Harlem. The building was going through phased renovations as the trending neighborhood garnered higher and higher rents. The roof would eventually support a party deck, but for now, it was closed off from tenants for safety reasons. Eric, of course, had the key. Remarkably they had views of Central Park and Morningside Park, and despite sitting in lawn chairs on a tar paper roof, it felt like a day in the country. After wine and a niçoise salad, they made love on a blanket. As they fondled and fucked, it was impossible to overcome the lewd excitement of feeling like they were being watched by two million people. Ariel road Eric cowgirl style while staring out at the skyscrapers of mid and downtown, knowing her husband was in one of them. She pinched her nipples as the orgasm took her, shouting out “Oh fuck, yes, I’m coming!” too loudly for Eric’s liking.
Or the time they toured an old, tiny theatre in Hell’s Kitchen. Built in the early 1900s, over the years it had been a second-tier vaudeville venue, a movie house, an off-Broadway playhouse, a strip joint, and a short-lived comedy club. It had been empty for years, but there was emerging interest in turning it into a restaurant or supper club. As a result, the place had been cleaned up considerably and the power was back on. There were no seats left, but the stage was still there, complete with velvet curtains. The walls had layers of paint, plaster, and wallpaper that revealed in patches the building’s past lives and purposes. It was beautiful in a way, and that’s why Eric had brought her there, for what he thought would be a quick stop before heading over to an executive hotel suite he knew was available. Ariel was inspired, though, and took to the stage to do a striptease for him. Her green Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, which she wore braless per its original design intent, made the show a brief one. She was quickly in thong and high heels, gyrating as she imagined low-end strippers would do for tips. Eric couldn’t stand the teasing and took her there on the stage, eating her ass and pussy as she clung to the velvet drapes, then fucking her standing as she bent at the waist. “You are the sexiest fucking slut in the world!” he groaned as he shot into her. Ariel hadn’t yet come, and at her urging Eric returned to eating her, enjoying their erotic mixture as she ground into his face.
The thirst for the thrill of the novel almost got them both caught in flagrante. Eric and his team presented the final permitted drawings to a gathering of the neighborhood stakeholders. They’d occupied a restaurant that typically wasn’t open for breakfast to hold the group of thirty or so people. The presentation went terrifically well, and Eric, the Board, and Ariel all received praise. Ariel found herself very proud of herself and of Eric, and as she watched him work the room, making the women of the neighborhood swoon, she had a sudden need to have him. At some point, Eric looked over at her, fabulous and sexy as usual in a navy Halston shirt dress. Simple, plain even, but with an extra button undone on top, and an extra on the bottom, combined with a tight sash around the waist, and that body of hers, she might as well have been standing there naked in all but her Manolo pumps. They hadn’t been together in two full weeks, an eternity for them. When he caught her eye she smiled wickedly and subtly gestured with a nod of her head toward the corner of the restaurant. Eric took the hint, excused himself, and headed in that direction, knowing she would follow. This was dangerous! What did she have in mind?! He found the bathrooms (Did she want to fuck in a stall?!) and then saw a door to a storeroom. He went in and left it ajar. Seconds felt like hours but soon Ariel arrived and shut the door behind her.
“We don’t have much time,” she said as she hiked up her dress. “Give me that thing,” she commanded as she turned to grab a shelf full of cleaning supplies. Eric flung off his jacket, dropped his jeans, and pulled her thong aside. He thrust into her with a few slow stabs. She felt tight but oh so wet. “Oh, God damn it, that feels good, Baby.” Her husband had given her a perfectly fine schtup just a couple days ago, but she needed this other cock, too. Eric moved in her slowly, reaching around to gently rub her clit and fondle her braless tits. Ariel moaned as if she hadn’t been with a man in years. They were at it for no more than a couple minutes when they heard voices just outside the door. A group of chattering women had formed at the bathroom door. Ariel and Eric stopped moving; stopped breathing. Then Ariel turned and dropped to a squat and took Eric in her mouth. Eric suppressed a shout and, unable to resist, cupped her head in his hands and softly rocked into her mouth. Ariel loved taking a cock slick with her own juice, and always had since her days with the old professor. Eric had not been with his wife in sometime, and he came quickly with deep pumps of cum. Ariel swallowed joyfully, relishing this man’s particular milky oyster. They pulled themselves together and waited in silence. When the hallway seemed empty Ariel snuck out and returned to the party. Eric dodged into the restroom. While she hadn’t cum, the lewd thrill of having Eric’s taste on her tongue as she conversed with the neighbors was satisfaction enough.
“Surprises are fun,” Ariel thought to herself.
~*~
“Voila!” she exclaimed.
She looked over her shoulder at him, smiled provocatively, then crossed her legs and bent at the waist. There, nestled between those alabaster round cheeks, was a black anal plug.
“Well fuck. That is a surprise.”
Ariel straightened and walked – no, sashayed – toward the giant bed on the far end of the loft. Eric watched her lovely cheeks flex with each step despite the leather harness’s attempt to constrain them. The bed was covered in the twisted white sheets left in place from their last tryst a few days before. She perched herself on all fours, tossed her long wild black hair and looked back at an approaching Eric with a pleading gaze. She was no submissive. But she could play the part. Eric shed his clothes as he followed her, almost stumbling ridiculously as he kicked his pants off.
“Fuck, Ariel, you’re so damn sexy.”
“Yes, I am, Sweety. Thank you. But I think we’re going for something a little kinkier right now,” Ariel teased.
“Oh, right.” Eric walked back to retrieve his trousers, yanking the black belt out with a snap. Ariel smiled.
Eric hopped onto the bed and maneuvered between Ariel and the headboard. He grabbed her mane and pulled her onto his cock. She went to work without a word. Eric doubled up the belt and swung it lightly against her left cheek. Not even a murmur from her. He swung it a little harder against her right cheek. Again, nothing. He undoubled the belt and struck her ass again, this time with a loud “snap” as Ariel jerked in reaction.
“Too hard?” he asked.
Ariel pulled off his cock and answered breathlessly, “No, it’s fine. Now shut up and do this right!”
Eric got more vigorous, gripping Ariel’s hair a little harder, thrusting into her mouth a little faster, but Ariel grew frustrated. She gave his cock one last full-throated suck and then twisted away. She grabbed the belt from Eric and pushed him onto his back.
“I think we’re going to switch this up,” she announced. She wound his wrists with the belt and secured him to the headboard with a hard tug.
“Ouch!” he protested. Sort of.
“Shut up,” Ariel commanded with a smile as she stroked Eric’s dick back to full mast before mounting him. His cock slid in with some resistance. The large plug in Ariel’s ass pressed against the walls of her vagina, shrinking the space for Eric’s cock. Ariel sank slowly down until she rested against his balls, then began to post up and down. The sensations were fantastic. His cock was forced against her g-spot and she had a spark of electricity in her ass at the beginning and end of every thrust. She broke into goose flesh and her nipples hardened to diamonds as she quickened her pace to a steady, twerking pounding. She dug her nails into Eric’s firm chest and stomach as she felt an orgasm building suddenly and strongly out of nowhere. It took all her willpower to stop.
She wanted to save that orgasm for when he was in her ass. Eric had taken her butt within their first few times together, and she gave it up willingly. A little anal had factored into their play several times since, but each time it was just an exciting and brief afterthought and mostly for Eric’s benefit. Ariel longed for a long, deep anal pounding, the kind that she could get off on, like the dirtiest of porn stars. Such a thing was no longer part of her sex life with her husband, and she only scratched that itch, unsatisfactorily, on Sundays in the bath with a dildo when he took the kids to the park. To do it right, to get to that higher place where there is no pain and no reservation and every nerve in clit, vagina, and rectum is firing in unison, requires very unsexy planning and preparation. She’d hatched her plan two weeks prior and had fun executing each step along the way. Training her ass in the shower in the morning. Acquiring plugs of progressive size and wearing them with increasing lengths of time. She trained herself up until that very morning when she dropped her kids at Montessori and raced home to give herself an enema and don her BDSM fashion piece.
“Arrgh! What are you doing!” Eric groaned as his wet cock stabbed uselessly into the air. Ariel grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in the nightstand and straddled Eric’s head as she faced the foot of the bed. She poured copious amounts of lube over Eric’s lonely, throbbing rod, and gave it a few teasing strokes. She then positioned her ass just inches from Eric’s mouth.
“How about a little help, Sweety?” She asked, lowering her butt a bit more so he would fully understand.
Eric nuzzled and licked at her inner cheeks, then gripped the round base of the plug in his teeth. Ariel pulled away slowly, moaning as the plug strained against the muscle rings of her anus. After a few attempts, the plug reached the point of no return and squirted from her ass, revealing a slight gape. Ariel squirted a few streams of Astroglide into her crack and then shuffled down his torso. She placed his knob at her back hole, pushed out to open her anus, and then worked him inside her. The preparation paid off as his cock passed through her sphincter with little discomfort. She rested briefly and then worked him in to the hilt with gentle short thrusts, gaining an inch of him at a time.
In short order, Ariel was impaling herself upon Eric’s prick with full force and confidence. She pushed two fingers into her vagina and cupped her mound as she pinched her nipples with her other hand. Eric grunted with the force of her weight coming down on his groin as he focused exclusively on the sight of his cock entering and leaving Ariel’s round hole. He spanked her ass, apparently hard enough this time, as it elicited an emphatic, “Yesss!” Ariel got tunnel vision before her eyes rocked completely back into their sockets. The sense that an orgasm was upon her emerged from deep inside her, as if clit, asshole, vagina, and nipples were all being pulled by a single string that ran from her head to her toes. She felt an intense contraction within her, then physically against the fingers in her pussy, followed by the involuntary hard clench of her rectum around Eric’s cock. Her feet curled into tight fists and her mouth opened to scream though no noise came out. She didn’t even breathe. She hung in a seemingly unending contraction that finally released itself in the form of a full-body convulsion.
Ariel fell forward onto the bed in an ecstatic seizure. Her body trembled in waves as her orgasm continued to crash against her very core. Eric couldn’t believe what he had witnessed; was still witnessing. He wriggled his arms free of the belt, sat up, and placed an empathetic hand on Ariel’s lower back. She pushed it away as if it was a hot iron. After perhaps a minute Ariel’s spasms stopped and she allowed herself a breathless chuckle. She, herself, could not quite comprehend what had just happened.
Eric looked down upon her beautiful form, slick with perspiration. Naked except for the black leather straps and shiny o-rings of the harness, her mouth still wantonly open against the white sheets, and her open asshole still pulsing between her firm round cheeks, he’d never seen anything sexier. Eric had not yet cum, and he was suddenly consumed with the desire to be back inside her. Grabbing her by one of the straps he pulled Ariel to all fours, despite her squealing protest. He squirted lube directly into her gape and crouched above her before driving his cock straight down into her pulsating hole. Ariel almost immediately returned to a miniature version of the convulsions that she had just passed through and collapsed prone onto the bed with the force of Eric’s thrusts. Overcome with lust, and no longer caring a wit about Ariel’s needs or comfort, Eric fucked her ass as hard as he had ever fucked anyone. He pounded into her, using the rebound of the mattress and his grip on the harness to increase the force. Ariel grunted with satisfaction whenever his big balls smacked against her perineum and cunt, and Eric reveled in the hollow “smack” he created with every thrust. At last, he burst, shooting ropes into her empty bowels.
“Mrs. Eisenberg … “
“Oh, I’m aware.”
