Lofty Expectations


“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.  kaçak iddaa 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 kaçak bahis 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 illegal bahis 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.

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