Moments With Miranda

"So, how do you like New York?"

Martin Roberts was determined not to ask this beautiful woman any of the typical questions Americans asked Australians-nothing about kangaroos or Vegemite or sharks. That left him a bit stumped, however.

"It's great, it's great," Miranda Kelly smiled in between bites of her chicken salad. "I always dreamed of being in New York, but I figured I'd never have the chance."

"You figured wrong," Martin responded with a smile, before finishing the last of his BLT.

It was New York's most awkward conversation, largely because their bodies wanted to say what their mouths could not. Martin could not keep his eyes off this beautiful lady, couldn't stop staring at her long, apple-red hair, bright green eyes and glowing fair skin; he stared at her so much during their meetings that he was afraid that she would notice and report him for harassment. It was all he could do not to let his erection show when he was around her; he made sure a copy of the Wall Street Journal was always around, to strategically place near his pants whenever she walked by.

Martin didn't know that Miranda would sneak into the ladies' bathroom after their meetings to touch herself, would spend nights dreaming about what it would be like to kiss his chocolate skin and feel the head of his dark cock inside of her. Men like Martin were few and far between in Perth, outside of movies and TV shows from the States. She still couldn't believe that this gorgeous man was so close to her, working alongside her.

She loved to shake his hand, and would wait just a few seconds before letting go. She loved to look down and see the contrast between their hands, and imagined what it would be like to have the rest of their bodies together, just as naked as their hands.

"It's going to be great working with you," Martin said, touching her with his deep voice. "So, you really went to Charles Darwin University for law school? You could never name a school like that here!"

Miranda burst out laughing. "I guess not! Hey, we have some crazy people in my country too."

"Well, I think we have more."

Miranda chuckled. "I must say, however, that I'm quite jealous of you-you got to go to Harvard and Harvard Law! What I wouldn't give to have that on my resume."

"Thanks," Martin replied. "But that doesn't make me better than anybody else. I don't want to be-how do you guys call it-a skite?"

"Hah! You know that word!" Miranda exclaimed. "You're not like most Americans!"

Martin smiled. "Well, I figured I have an obligation to understand your culture. After all, you guys know all about America's."

"Right," Miranda noted.

Martin leaned in. "Between you and me," he whispered, "there are some guys here who aren't thrilled that your firm bought ours. One of the senior guys told me that he doesn't really want to work with a bunch of 'croc hunters'!"

"What an arsehole," Miranda grimaced.

"And I thought Americans liked Australians!" Martin observed.

"Guess not all of them," Miranda replied.

"Well, speaking for myself, I definitely look forward to working with you and learning from you."

"I feel the same way."

Martin glanced at his watch. "Wow, can't believe it's 3:00 already. Time goes so fast on the weekends, no?"

"Definitely."

"Well, I just have to go over a few documents when I get back to my place, then I'll call it a night. It's been a crazy week."

"You sleep in on Saturday nights? I mean, you're not sixty."

Martin smiled. "Well, I don't think you're going out clubbing yourself, are you?"

Miranda chuckled. "Well, no, but I'm not from here."

They both laughed, their voices bouncing off the walls of Laine Lerman LLC's cafeteria. Martin offered to carry Miranda's tray to the recycle bin.

"Well, see you Tuesday, and enjoy the long weekend."

Miranda looked at Martin's dark brown eyes.

"I'll certainly try too."

-

Martin's cock was aroused and aching to the point he could barely piss. He desperately wanted to fuck Miranda, to give his hot Aussie chick the sexual experience of a lifetime, but there wasn't a clear signal he picked up on. She could have any an in the world...any white man in the world, to be sure.

Martin looked around at his Manhattan micro-apartment. It was neat and square, just like the tenant. Martin always said he was too busy to date, but in reality, he was convinced that he was just too plain, too nerdy, too (ironically) vanilla. Whatever black women or white women wanted in a man, he was convinced that he didn't have.

It was a quiet and safe live; no wife, no children, little non-work stress. He had his classic jazz CDs and adult DVDs to relieve the loneliness, and so much work at Laine Lerman that he didn't hand much time for self-pity. He had it all. And he had nothing.

-

Just a few blocks away, Miranda was debating whether to text Martin. Her roommate-a fellow Aussie attorney, a blonde who worked for another merged firm-was in Los Angeles for the weekend, attending the wedding of a mutual friend. She wouldn't be back until Monday night.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She felt she looked plain, with too many freckles and not enough curves. The white guys in New York did nothing for her-too obsessed with sports, just like the Aussie men who were fixated on footy. She desired black men, but didn't black men like white girls with meat on their bones? How many brothers went for the average Anglo-Aussie?

Miranda reached for her iPad and opened a bookmarked link. It was Angela White, the Aussie porn star, having her pussy pounded by Lexington Steele's gigantic black cock. Miranda started to masturbate-and then she abruptly stopped.

Fuck it, she said to herself, you only live once, right?

She texted Martin,

"Hi. Really lonely right now. Loved lunch with u today. Would u like to get together for dinner?"

-

As soon as he got out of the cab, Martin ran up to the steps of Miranda's apartment and was quickly buzzed in. After getting off the elevator, he went to door 200 and knocked.

Miranda opened the door and immediately kissed him on the cheek. Martin was pleasantly startled. "Thanks for coming," she smiled, her sweet accent hardening his cock again.

"Sure. Any place in mind?"

"Actually, can we just run across the street and grab something, and bring it back here?"

Martin glanced out the window at Pret A Manger. "Sure."

Miranda grabbed her keys, and Martin couldn't help notice her reach for a receipt and abruptly toss it into the wastebasket. Why not just leave the receipt there, Martin thought.

Ten minutes later, they were back in Miranda's bedroom, each enjoying a soup-sandwich combo. After taking a sip of Diet Coke, Miranda stood up.

"Do you mind if I put on some music?"

"No, not at all."

Miranda reached for a CD and began playing Herbie Hancock's "Maiden Voyage."

"You're a jazz fan?" asked Martin, mildly surprised.

"Yeah," replied Miranda. "My dad played jazz records all the time when we were growing up. He actually played saxophone, too."

"Get the fuck out of here!" exclaimed Martin. "My dad was obsessed with jazz-he just couldn't play!"

"What did he do?"

"He was a cop-it was a tough time for him, as there weren't a lot of black cops on the force at the time. He would always say the music would help him relax and calm down."

"He was right."

Martin paused. "I'm embarrassed to say this, but I never imagined that you were a jazz fan."

Miranda chuckled. "Well, now you know!"

Martin laughed.

"You know, I'd love to visit Australia one day. It's such a beautiful country."

"Why, thank you!"

Martin hesitated. Would this work?

"A lot of beautiful women, too."

"I wish I was one of them," Miranda cracked.

"What are you talking about? I think you're very beautiful."

Miranda smiled.

"Well, you're not bad looking yourself! "

"Oh, please! No one will ever confuse me with Denzel."

"You could give Denzel a run for his money!"

Martin rolled his eyes. Was she being serious?

"I'm not joking," said Miranda, leaning in and touching his leg. "Everybody talks about how handsome you are, how kind you are."

"Well, I don't think I've heard any of those conversations."

"I don't think you've been listening, mate."

Miranda stared at Martin. It's time, she thought to herself.

Martin blushed, and put the sandwich wrappers and soup containers into the Pret A Manger bag before tossing it into the trash.

"That was great," said Miranda. "I guess I should have some dessert."

"What kind?"

Miranda looked up.

"Chocolate."

The remark stunned Martin long enough for Miranda to stand up, run to Martin and kiss him full on the lips. She felt his hot erection near her thighs as he put his arm around her.

Martin and Miranda kept kissing as they undressed. Within minutes, Miranda's bra and panties were on the floor, and Martin kept one hand on her small left breast while his other hand pulled off his boxers, exposing a thick, hardened 9-inch rod.

Miranda's eyes bulged at the sight of exposed black cock, and she immediately dropped to her pale knees to suck him off. Martin groaned and screamed as his boiling cum surged through his cock-head into Miranda's mouth. Miranda stood up and immediately kissed Martin, semen still coating her lips.

She grabbed his large black cock-her tiny white hand barely able to fit over it-and pulled him member-first into the bathroom, where she reached into the medicine cabinet for a pack of Magnum extra-large condoms. So that's why she was trying to hide the receipt, he thought.

He helped her put the condom on, took her hand and led her back to the bedroom. He embraced her, laid her gently on the bed and spent the next two hours making love to her, kissing her luminous red hair, her freckled forehead, her arms, her bright nipples, her chest, her stomach. He licked and kissed her pussy, bringing her to orgasm four times. He kissed her thighs and feet before gently turning over to kiss her ass. He spread her checks and licked her cute little asshole, causing her entire body to vibrate in ecstasy. He then kissed her back and shoulders, before gently turning her over again, spreading her legs, and inserting his hard black American cock into her soft white Australian pussy. She gasped as she saw his large cock nestle inside of her, and soon gasped again with an explosive orgasm.

He came again as well, with such force and intensity that his cock and balls ached for moments afterward. After carefully removing his condom and tossing it into the wastebasket, he returned to the bed and collapsed in delighted exhaustion. He reached for her hand, and folded it inside of his; they held hands as they fell asleep.

-

Early the next morning, Martin felt something on his upper leg. He opened his eyes to see Miranda's lips just leaving his thigh. A lamp was on, and he could see red lipstick marks all over his chest, arms and stomach; Miranda had awakened early to return last night's favor.

She motioned for him to turn around, to allow access to his back. Sure enough, within a few seconds, her tongue had found his asshole, and soon Martin's cock again exploded, dampening Miranda's sheets with his semen.

Martin and Miranda embraced as the run began its rise over Manhattan. She kissed him again and leaned into his ear. With that lovely accent-the one made him want to fuck her from the moment they met-she asked:

"So, how do you like New York?"