I want to thank my editor Dazmine for her great editing.
I have made some changes to some of my earlier stories (new editors) and you might want to reread them if you have already, or read them if you haven't.
I do appreciate constructive comments and Emails. High ratings will encourage me to write future stories.
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It was a while since we've done something naughty. I've been traveling quite a bit, and I miss your naked body next to mine. I suggest a trip to NYC to see a show.
The Hyatt Hotel in NYC is a pleasant business hotel. The rooms are small but adequate. The lobby reflects the 1980's when the hotel was last redecorated.
You call me from the cab you are taking from the airport. I suggest you meet me in the lobby. I had a tedious day. Too much work... too little time. I am into my second glass of a reasonably good Red Zinn. It's a pretty good one. $22 per glass (it is New York after all). You sit next to me. You're wearing a short skirt (mid-thigh length) and strappy heels. Your roller board suitcase is with you.
"God, I missed you," I say, and suggest you have a drink with me. The bartender smiles (he knows I am a very lucky guy), and he can't help but notice your beautiful cleavage through your blouse that has come unbuttoned by accident or... maybe not by accident, as I think more about it.
As he moves away, I lean over to kiss you on the lips. As your mouth opens to accept my tongue, you feel the warm red wine seep into your mouth. It has caught you by surprise, but you react quickly to swallow the liquid.
"Not as salty as other things," you add with a wicked smile as you lick your lips.
Meanwhile, my hand moves up your leg. Yes... there's nothing underneath. I feel the moisture emanate from your pussy. We kiss again, and your hand glides over to my pants where my bulge becomes immediately apparent.
"Hmmm... Dinner first or dessert?" you whisper in my ear as your drink arrives.
"I think dinner and then dessert. I have patience, and I love talking with you. Making love is always a special treat, but I think I can wait a little while." A smile grows on my face.
We finish our drinks, and chat about our day-to-day challenges and exchange exciting memories about our recent bedtime experiences.
I get the check and pay the bill. I give the bellman five dollars to bring your suitcase to our room, and we go down the hotel lobby stairs to the street to catch a cab. As you climb into the rear door of the taxi, the doorman gets a nice look up the back of your dress. I suspect he has seen a little more, since he winks at me as he takes the tip and closes the door after me.
I can't keep my hands off you the entire trip. Fingering your pussy and kissing you has made me hotter and hotter. Our Jamaican driver pretends not to notice our back seat activity and winds his way through the crowded streets.
We pull up to the small Italian restaurant in the Village that the concierge recommended. You straighten your skirt as you get out of the cab. I try to look nonchalant as my pants tent in front of me.
We're guided to a lovely little table in the back. I think they know we need privacy. We order a bottle of wine and begin a wonderful dinner together.
After the incredible meal, we take a cab to the Times Square area. Disney and other chain shops have taken over what was once a relatively seedy area. We pass one of the few remaining strip clubs. We hear the music pulsing behind the doors.
"Interested?" I ask.
"Sure," you say with a smile.
We enter the dark club, and the music booms in the background.
We move to a table near the "runway" and order two more drinks.
A dark-haired girl just started dancing. She must be 23 or 24 years old. Slim with a nice tight ass, and medium-size breasts under a red plastic outfit. She begins dancing to a song I have never heard.
"Must be children's music," I announce over the pounding music.
As the song continues, she removes her clothing in a clumsy fashion; first revealing her bra and G-string red panties. We tip her after each song. She spends quite a bit of time in front of us, tempting us with her body. You take the tip and tuck it into her G-string. she smiles and mouths a "thank you."
"Wish you were with that body?" you ask in my ear.
"Not bad," I respond back into your ear (interrupting once with my flicking tongue). "But I'm not into children; I am attracted to women my age. You know that." My hand moves up your skirt, and I feel your wet pussy ready for my finger.
Our friend on stage has removed the remnants of her outfit to reveal her shaved pink pussy, which she displays two feet from us as she leans over backward.
