A Girl Walks Into A Bar... Part 2 Of 2 free porn video

She pressed herself to me in the way that some women have, her body forming to mine as if she was liquid, lacking bone and muscle; but for the firm roundness of her pubic mound grinding against me, I might have succumbed to the illusion, but my body knew better and quickly began to respond. By the time we reached my floor, the eighth, her hard mound was grinding against a growing hardness of my own.

Only one of the two elevators served the top two floors, and when the door slid open it revealed a spacious vestibule, an elaborate Deco-style door on each side, the wall straight ahead bearing a large mosaic landscape reminiscent of one of Cézanne’s cubist-phase paintings. I’d always been attracted to it, and Dana expressed her admiration as well. “What a beautiful piece!”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m fascinated with it and in awe of the intricate glass and tile work. Someone spent a great deal of time and talent on it back when that type of artist and craftsman was appreciated.”

“And we’re still appreciating them today.”

“Good point, and true enough; they created something of lasting beauty and value. Come on in…” I’d unlocked the door, and now I pushed it open and stood back so she could enter first.

She looked around the vestibule again before entering. “Only two apartments on this floor?”

“Yes, but the floor isn’t that large. You saw how the building stair-steps back at each floor as it goes up; each floor is smaller than the one below. The eighth floor is only a little over 6,000 square feet total area.”

She gazed around the room as she walked in. “So your apartment is 3,000 square feet? That’s huge!”

“A little under, with space tied up for utilities and elevator shafts and such. But yes, it’s more than enough.”

She laughed as her eyes swept the main room and kitchen of the open floor plan. “I should say so! It’s beautiful, Brandt. And you live alone…?”

“Thank you – and yes, of course. Make yourself at home while I go pour the wine. Feel free to look around, there’s nothing here I’m worried about.”

My knowledge of interior design roughly on par with my understanding of astrophysics, I’d had the apartment professionally decorated. I’d insisted on comfortable, oversized furniture – something about which the decorator had grumbled a bit – but beyond that had given him free rein to spend as needed to stay true to the Art Deco theme of the building.

He’d cheered up immeasurably at that news and more when I agreed to his outrageous fee, but I had to admit that he’d done a spectacular job. I was proud of it, and after seeing that Dana appreciated design was interested in her impression.

She wandered around, occasionally remarking on something or calling out a question, which I’d answer to the best of my ability. I slipped off my jacket and hung it over the back of a chair at the breakfast bar; I’d shed my tie long ago, and now I unbuttoned my sleeves and rolled them up and set about opening and pouring the wine.

Although she’d wandered out of sight, I continued to respond to her comments and questions as I uncorked the bottle. I selected two large-sized stemmed wine glasses to lessen the need for refills and poured myself a small sample. After performing the necessary ritual and finding it every bit as good as I’d remembered, I poured a generous serving in each.

Carrying them back into the main living area I realized I hadn’t heard anything from her for a few minutes and was about to call out to her when I cleared the corner and stopped in my tracks. There was Dana, standing at a slight angle to me at the end of the living room where the hall led to my bedroom, in nothing but her panties, bra, and heels, and she was spectacular!

Her lingerie was ivory lace and minuscule, and the lace mesh hid little. Her areolas and nipples were readily visible through the fabric, perfect rose-colored peaks on flawless breasts, the creamy flesh of which spilled over the tops of the low-cut cups. The panties, also lace, were cut high on the hips, accentuating the length and smooth contour of her extraordinary legs and, at her angle, revealing the major share of a flawlessly smooth and shapely left buttock.

The heels were an odd touch. I think barefoot is sexy, and I’ve always felt that a woman naked (or close to it) but still in her designer heels was a bit of a silly affectation, all the more so when her feet are in the air. I quickly changed my opinion, shifting on the fly thanks to what those heels did for Dana’s legs, stature, and pose. She was, without question, the most exquisite thing in my exquisitely decorated home.

I’d been about to speak, but at the sight of her, the words died in my throat. I stood stock-still, taking in her beauty, the glasses forgotten in my hands.

She let me look for quite some time, both of us silent, but eventually, she said, “You were about to say something?”

I shook my head. “No… I don’t know. If I was, it’s gone now, probably some inane point about the wine or something equally insipid. All that can be said now is that you are stunning. Spectacular.”

I crossed to her and handed her a glass as she thanked me, and then bent and kissed her again. When we broke, she asked, “Did I shock you?”

“Shock? No. Surprised, delighted, aroused, maybe other things, all good, but not shocked. Were you hoping to shock me?” My right hand now free of her glass, I stroked her chest above her bra with the backs of my fingers, tracing her collarbones and the upper swell of her breasts, the line of her strong shoulders and graceful neck. She was smooth and firm and warm and her scent was lighting me on fire.

“No. But I’ve enjoyed the way you look at me and wanted to show you more.”

I smiled my appreciation. “Thank you, Dana. You’re incredible. You know how they say you never get a second chance to make a first impression? Whoever they are, they’re wrong.”

“I guess I made a terrible first impression, didn’t I?”

I sipped my wine before replying, and she took the opportunity to do the same, mumbling appreciatively about the taste and quality.

“On the contrary, you made an incredible first-first impression, on me and everyone else in the bar. It was the second first impression where you went a little off the rails.”

She blushed but smiled. “A little! I was a perfect bitch.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself; nobody’s perfect.” She laughed, and I went on, “The third first impression – and I call them all first impressions because, in many ways, each seemed like a different person - was the important one. On your third try, you showed heart and class and empathy, but most of all remorse. You were willing to do what it took to redeem yourself. Many are too small and prideful and wouldn’t have seized that opportunity, but you did. That says a lot about you.”

“You made me aware, gave me the opportunity for redemption.”

“But you took it. That’s what counts. Now the fourth first impression, that was the one where you let me dump all of my dark, depressing garbage on you and didn’t run away screaming. That was impressive. Courageous. You didn’t ask for that, but you absorbed it with thoughtful grace.”

She laughed again. “By then, I was invested. In for a penny, in for a pound, and you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It was refreshing that you spoke honestly and weren’t just trying to flatter and bullshit me constantly. You treat me like my mind matters too. That’s surprisingly rare.”

“Thank you, and that’s a sad commentary on the males of the species.”

She smiled. “And by then, my feet were hurting and I was about over these shoes, so running away was not an option.”

I laughed. “Ah, the truth comes out! Allow me…” I set my glass down, then knelt at her feet and lifted her left leg, gently removing the offending shoe. I repeated the action with her right one, hyper-aware of the firm muscles of her calves and the delicate arch of her foot and her pearl-pink painted toenails, and when I breathed in the sensuous bouquet of her burgeoning arousal it made my heart pound and my cock swell.

As I rose to my feet, I trailed my fingers up her legs and over her hips, pausing to stroke her tight abs before stepping behind her and pulling her back against me. I pressed one hand to her stomach and slid the other up to her neck, raising her chin and turning her head so that I could kiss her. Barefoot now, our height differential further accentuated, she stretched upward, her lips soft and compliant, and when I brought my hands to her breasts, cupping them and feeling the texture of the lace, she moaned into my mouth.

Breaking the kiss to nuzzle her neck and ears through her long hair, I breathed her uniquely carnal scent, and when my lips and warm breath caressed her neck she shuddered with arousal. My fingertips encountered the small hook between the cups of her bra, and as I took it between thumb and forefinger, I asked, “May I?”

“Of course.”

I slipped the hook and opened the front of her bra, freeing her breasts. I slid the straps from her shoulders and discarded them to a nearby chair before again sliding my hands up her tummy and ribs to cup her breasts, perfect handfuls of soft, resilient femininity. When my fingers found her nipples, I laughed softly. “That’s a surprise.”

“I had them pierced. Do you like it?”

They felt like small barbells, apparently a common nipple adornment although I’d never personally encountered them before. “I don’t dislike it. It sort of seems like gilding the lily, though. May I see?”

She slipped from my arms and turned to face me. Each flawless rose nipple had a gold bar through it side-to-side, a small gold ball on either end of the bar. When I touched them she moaned. “Mmmm, yes… They make my nipples even more sensitive than they were. And they’ve always been very sensitive.”

“So you like your little toys touched and played with?”

“That… and sucked on.”

“I’ll have to be gentle so I don’t chip a tooth.”

She laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t have to be gentle. Please don’t.”

I bent and took one hard nipple into my mouth, flicking at the golden bauble with my tongue, and she moaned and pressed my head harder to her breast. When I nibbled at it and then took it in my teeth and gently tugged it she said, “Fuck, Brandt… don’t stop.”

I didn’t for several more moans and curses, and then moved to the other and gave it the same treatment for a brief time, earning additional moans. I had one hand on her perfect ass and the other on her taut tummy and could feel her writhing in my arms and the tension in her body. When I let that nipple slip free and straightened, I said, “I’ve reevaluated; I like your decorations very much.”

She smiled. “I’m glad. I have a third, you know… well, really a fifth, if you count my ears.”

“Do tell.”

“No, I think I’ll let you find it. Call it a treasure hunt.”

“I’m already on one of those, although I anticipate finding a treasure far more valuable and beautiful than some tiny golden bauble.”

“You will; that one has a diamond on it too.”

I laughed. “Not exactly what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. You’ll find that too, I hope.”

I went back to her breasts, alternating sucking on each nipple and tugging them outward, stretching them with the tiny barbell held in my teeth. As I did, I moved my hand from her stomach to her thigh and then slid it up to cup her sex, anticipating the wet, hot lace of the crotch of her panties; instead, I found Dana, hot, wet, and dripping with arousal, her panties split naughtily down the middle, crotchless-style, so that she was available to my touch. And touch I did!

Grinning with delight, I looked up at her. “You, my dear, are full of surprises.”

She laughed. “I wear this type a lot, it always makes me feel naughty… and horny. You like that?”

“Oh yes, very much… and what have we here?” I’d encountered a hard foreign object amid her soft, wet, steaming folds and slippery with her arousal, and I gently fingered it. “A ring? You have a ring piercing in your pussy?”

“Mmm-hmmm. Gold, with a diamond.”

“Again, gilding the lily, but… damn, that’s sexy!” My fingers toyed with it amidst her dripping heat, tracing it to where it penetrated her flesh. “Fuck! You had you clit pierced?”

“No, just the little hood; I’m not that brave.”

I laughed. “Ah. Smart girl.” I found her clit then, hard and erect, and I slowly stroked the posterior side of her little stiffie as I returned to tormenting her nipples. That combination seemed to be just what she’d been waiting for and she writhed in my arms, thrusting her sex against my wandering fingertips.

“Fuck, Brandt… you’re going to make me come!”

“Well, yeah, I hope so. Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes!”

“I mean, you’re not one and done, right?” I had to release her nipple to speak, but I continued to tease it with my lips around my words.

“Oh, god no. Just getting started… ohh, oh, yes, right there, right there… yes! Fuck… fuck, coming…”

I slid my middle finger into her as she climaxed, continuing to stroke her clit with my index finger and tug her nipples and jewelry with my teeth and lips. She pushed her pelvis forward, taking my finger as deep as possible and crushing her soft lips and hard nub against my other fingers. I could feel the power of her orgasm in the contractions of her pussy squeezing my finger, and my cock, straining against my pants, throbbed right along with her.

I didn’t know any of Dana’s ‘tells’ at that point, but it seemed like a good, strong orgasm and I kept stimulating her as she moved her hips, fucking herself on my fingers as it crested and began to wane. As her movements slowed, she said, “Somehow I knew you’d be good at this.”

I smiled at her. “Not my first rodeo - and I can usually manage to stay on past the buzzer.”

“Good to know! My turn to satisfy my curiosity now.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed that my undies aren’t crotchless.”

She laughed, then dropped to her knees in front of me, running her hand over my hard bulge. “It doesn’t feel like I’m going to be disappointed about anything.”

She struggled a bit to free me from my pants, ultimately giving up on the open zipper and undoing my belt and button as well, and when she brought me into the open she held me and looked on admiringly. “You are a big man…”

I laughed. “Thanks. Proportional, I guess. With my frame I’d look rather silly with a skinny little five or six-inch cock, right?”

“Clearly not a concern.” She took me into her mouth then, her lips soft, her mouth warm and welcoming, and her tongue active and agile. She pushed my pants down my legs so that she could cup and fondle my sack with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of my shaft and in every respect demonstrated that she knew her way around a hard cock. I’m not sixteen, so I wasn’t concerned about any embarrassing incidents, but I could understand how she might have caused any number of them in the past.

I held her hair back and enjoyed watching her skillful and enthusiastic efforts on my cock, hard and aching with arousal the entire time – just looking at her beautiful face was pure pleasure, but I have to admit, in my own Chauvinist way, that I thought she looked even more beautiful with my cock in her mouth. Still, I didn’t know how far she planned to take this but I did know that I’d rather be inside her – although it was a tough call.

She paused to help me out of my pants, untying my shoes and then kneeling on my slacks until I stepped out of them, and when I shed my shirt, I was more naked than she was. She took me back into her mouth, and I knew that I could easily be convinced to let her finish me like this so that I could then do the same for her, but before I asked she let me slip from her mouth, looked up at me, and said, “Brandt, do you have any Viagra on hand?”

I stared at her for a moment before I laughed ruefully and said, “Jesus, Dana…”

Suddenly realizing how her question had struck me, she looked dismayed. “Oh, I did it again, didn’t I? I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong thing.”

“Well, it is one of those things an older man doesn’t especially want to hear from a younger woman, but it was less what you said than the timing involved. Does it look or feel like I’ll need chemical assistance?”

“Oh, no, not at all! I’m sure you don’t the first time, and probably not the second if I’m any judge, but by the third or fourth – fifth for sure – I thought you might be happy to have it on board.”

“Fourth? Fifth…? Oh. Hmm. I see. Well, fuck… when you put it like that it completely changes my perspective. And yes, I have the remaining two of a three tablet sample my doctor gave me to try out a while back. Cialis, as I recall, if I can find it. Probably past its expiration date, but then I’m closing in on that myself.”

She laughed. “See? I had a reason for asking. But just to avoid any other pitfalls, are there other things I shouldn’t say? I hit you with that one, the dad comparison, the remark about age and weight – by which I wasn’t making a crack, as you well know! But is there anything else? Something to round out my top-five faux pas list?”

I laughed too. “Top five, huh? Jeez, you know how delicate our egos are; there are probably dozens, but a top-five… Oh, I know! Never, ever, under any circumstances ask if it’s in yet. If it’s not, he’ll know he was judged and found wanting, but you might still be able to recover. But if it is in… well, there’s no recovering from that, not ever.”

She was laughing, still fondling me and keeping me hard, but we were also having some fun, playing a few games, and getting to know each other. “I’m sure you’ve never heard that one, but I’ll try to remember. So, you’ve tried the pills before?”

“Just the once. My doctor offered – guess she thought I was getting old - and it was free, so what the hell. I was eager to see how it worked when I had a date a few days after my appointment.”

“And…?”

“Oh, it worked! Fuck, I had a hardon like a sixteen-year-old. The problem arose when she left after a single go-round.”

“She didn’t enjoy it? I can’t imagine…”

“No. No, not that. She loved it but had to leave to get home before her husband did. See, that’s an important tidbit of information I didn’t have until that moment.”

She was laughing again, which had been my goal in telling the story, although it was mostly true as well. Hell, it was a stupid and mildly embarrassing story, but it was funny in hindsight. Sex should be fun, as well as intimate and loving, between two people that are enjoying themselves and each other. Or so I felt, anyway.

“You didn’t know she was married?”

“Not until that very moment, at which time I had a drug-induced erection that could be used to crush rocks.”

“So what did you do? Jerk off, I guess?”

“Well, I didn’t have any rocks to crush. So, first I wandered the halls, cock in hand, stopping at each apartment to see if they had any loose nails that needed to be pounded in or cuts of meat that needed tenderizing. Pounded down a few loose floorboards, freed a sticking window on the fourth floor. Clubbed a rat to death in the basement. But then, yes. Jerked off… Damn near got carpal tunnel syndrome.”

When she stopped laughing she took me into her mouth for a brief session, then looked up at me. “I promise not to leave until you’re completely and utterly exhausted.”

“Then I’ll take one. If I can find them. And not ‘til we’re done here. The first time, at least, will be all me; no artificial chemistry, just yours and mine.”

And it was. She made love to my cock and balls and appeared to be thoroughly immersed in the sensuality of it and enjoying herself; I know I was. I never let her get me close to my climax, although she certainly had the skills and enthusiasm to do so if we chose.

Eventually, rock hard and with balls that felt like they each must weigh a pound, I pulled her to her feet and then scooped her up, one arm under her back and the other under her knees and carried her to the sofa. I laid her down gently and then did what I’d been aching to do since I laid eyes on her – minus the short interval of misunderstanding; I devoured her.

I kissed and nuzzled and explored with fingers, lips, and tongue, finding the warm, sensual places, the firm, rubbery sensitive places with their little barbells, the slightly bitter but sweet-scented places where she’d applied perfume and the salty, pheromone-laden secret places at the base of her neck, the underside of each perfect breast, the smooth arch of a taut armpit. I kissed my way down her tight abs to the small triangle of tight curls on her mound beneath the lace of her naughtily erotic panties and I breathed the tantalizing and arousing scent of her eager sex, my cock throbbing with anticipation.

When I turned her and lifted her bottom for access and then used my thumbs to hold back the two sides of her split lace panties, I simply looked at her. Her pussy was as stunning as the rest of her, pink and wet and perfect, visibly aroused and adorned with a small gold ring bearing a diamond. It was superfluous and it pierced her perfect flesh just above her glistening, erect clit, something that seemed vaguely sacrilegious, but, fuck, it was sexy!

That tiny bauble laying amidst her wet, pink folds, touching her hard clit, was indeed like finding a crown jewel in a treasure vault. Her outer lips were spread with my thumbs, along with the lace, her inner lips puffy with arousal and wet, her clit was generous and gorgeous and very erect, and her opening, no bigger than the tip of my pinky, glistened with her secretions and beckoned irresistibly. I watched a tiny rivulet of her juices trickle from the lower part of her pussy and slowly run down to her tight little rear star and licked my lips, salivating madly as I anticipated tasting her.

When I glanced up at her face, she was looking at me, watching me look at her. There was no trace of self-consciousness, no pretense of shyness or embarrassment. I think she could read my face and see how she affected me, how much I was reveling in the sight of her secret places. There was that tiny patch of brown curls, groomed short, adorning her mound, and when I swirled my finger in her coarse hairs, she said, “I wanted to look like a woman, not a prepubescent girl.”

“Oh, you’re in no danger of anyone making that mistake, but I love it. Maybe I’m showing my age, but to me, it looks right. Everything about you looks very right.” I flipped her golden ring down with my fingertip, then fit it around the hard cylinder of her jutting clit; it just fit, and I teased it on further, the ring tugging on her pink hood where it pierced her.

“Mmmm… what are you doing?”

“Trying your ring on for size. Did you know it’s a perfect fit?”

“What?” She laughed. “No, I did not know that. It feels good, though.”

“I’m glad. I wonder if I could get it to fit better with a little more lubrication, a few gentle tongue nudges…” I was half kidding, of course. There was nothing in the lubrication field I could do, absent a can of WD-40, which she didn’t already have covered.

I did move around and push a pillow beneath her bottom so that I could more easily bring my mouth to her beautiful sex, however, and then I teased and tantalized and nibbled and toyed with her clit and her golden bauble until she came, and when she did it was with complete abandon, a raucous, joyous, utterly inarticulate celebration of the joy of orgasm.

Her hand on my head held my face to her pussy as she bucked her hips upward, grinding herself into my lips and tongue, and she growled, low and guttural, and swore, and moaned, and told me yes, it was good, and yes, right there, right there, yes, and when she was about to come again she begged me not to stop.

Do men actually do that, just stop? Is that really something a woman has to request?

My God… I couldn’t have stopped if the world had ended at that moment, I’d have licked and sucked and savored her until the light blinked out! What kind of an idiot has to be instructed to not stop? In any event, I didn’t, and neither did she, and we stayed together, in sync, until her orgasm exploded and flamed and sizzled through her, and when it began to ease I rose and entered her and it flared anew.

She was slick and hot and wet and tight, and I could feel her opening to my intrusion and then closing tightly around my length after the head of my cock had opened her and passed, and when she pushed her pelvis up the hard bone of my pubis met the soft folds of her sex and she was filled.

Only then did I stop, and it was to look at each other in wonder, astonished at the way we fit, the way it felt, and to take in every slightest sensation, from her tight, velvet sleeve contracting on me to the swelling pulse of my organ, the heat of her body, the spicy nutmeg-cinnamon scent of her to even the sensation of my balls pressed to her perfect ass. We hadn’t discussed condom use or any other such technical details, and even then it was a fleeting thought that vanished in the vapor when she said, “Fuck me.”

Two words, a seemingly simple request, but it held so much promise, so much anticipation, and, ultimately, so much satisfaction. Yes, I fucked her, but she fucked me right back, and when she came I gasped and held on, and again when she came once more minutes later, and by then I knew her ‘tells’, the way her body tensed and tightened, the frown of concentration on her face, the way her thighs tightened on my sides and her heel pressed against my tailbone, driving me inward.

When her orgasms hit she’d thrust back against the sofa, her sage-green eyes opening wide and staring into mine and her mouth forming an ‘O’, the tendons in her neck and shoulders straining against her tensed muscles, and if I’d seen her as beautiful before, in orgasm she was a goddess.

I gave her four of those and wanted to go on and on just to see her pleasure, but the flesh is weak. On her fourth, when her body told me it was time, I was unable to delay any longer; we’d ignored condom protocol, but one thing I could still do was ask, but somehow, before I could, she knew.

“In me, Brandt. Come in me. God, come inside meee!”

And then the dam broke and it was too late to do otherwise, and I came deep in her tight heat, my pelvis pressed tight to her sex, my entire length within her as I pumped and spasmed, spurting one blast after another of cum, draining myself, the intensity beyond anything I could recall. I filled her, and our fit was so tight, my cock so perfectly filling her pussy, that the additional volume of my cum was too much and it was forced out around me, covering her sex and my pubis and balls in warm cream.

As the spasms and sensations of our orgasm waned – and I use the singular intentionally, because it had felt, for that moment in time, like we were one being – we stared into each other’s eyes.

I was the first to break our silence, and my voice sounded hoarse. “Dana… my God!”

She took a deep breath, then blew it out noisily. “Fuck! I knew you’d be good, I just knew… but I had no idea.”

I smiled. “Thanks. It’s all a matter of inspiration.” My cock slowly softening, I eased out of her and she moaned with loss. “It’s all right; I fully intend to return.” I collapsed onto the floor, sitting alongside her where we could continue to touch and maintain our intimacy. We talked softly, intimate lover things, and when the bones finally reformed in our bodies I led the way to the master bath, where we cleaned up a little – and I found the old Cialis samples and swallowed one.

After that, we retired to my bed, a high, plush, king-size model with a fancy Deco head and footboard, and I pulled a sheet over us as she lay in my arms. We simply lay quiet for a time, enjoying being together, but this time it was her that broke the silence.

“So, tell me; does that plan usually work? Finding some young woman that you can scold and humiliate and make her reexamine her values so that you can then take her home and ravage her?”

I laughed. “It has a 100% success rate so far, yes. Remind me to jot down the steps, will you?”

“Odd approach, making me realize I was a class-A bitch, apologize to some guy I hurt, and then end up giving me mind-blowing orgasms. I wouldn’t have bet on it working.”

“You’re right, long odds.”

“Hell, Brandt, our meeting at all was long odds. I was supposed to be on a date – a blind date yet, which I despise and typically decline. I did it for a friend.”

“You get stood up? Is that what had you so pissed off to begin with?”

“Partly, yes. But he was gentleman enough to call – when my Uber was two blocks from the bar, where we were supposed to meet.”

“But you came in anyway.”

“I was there by then. I figured worst case, I’d have a drink or two and take a cab or another Uber home later. Then I fucked up, and you spanked me, and the evening got interesting.”

“For me too. Your poor date doesn’t know what he missed.”

“I felt bad for him. Rut was very nice when he called, said his asshole boss gave him a last-minute project and he’d be on it most of the night. He’s an attorney.”

“Rut?”

“Short for Rutledge. Odd name either way.”

“Yes, it is.”

I was smiling, and she noticed. “What?”

“Rutledge Palmer, by any chance?”

“Well… Yes. You know him?”

I laughed. “In the longest of long odds or the smallest of small worlds, yes, I do. He’s my attorney, and I’m the asshole boss that gave him the project, a court filing that needs to go in tomorrow morning. So it turns out that the fit of pique that I spanked you for was partly my own doing. Kismet, maybe?” I shook my head, astounded by the chain of events. “Dana, I’m sorry. He was meeting you at that bar because we own it, same reason I go there.”

She pondered that freak coincidence for a moment and then laughed. “Oddly, I’m not sorry at all. I think it worked out very well. A meeting of kismet and karma, maybe.”

“And who are we mere mortals to question the whims of the gods?”

She laughed. “Indeed. When you say he’s your attorney…”

“He works for me – or, more accurately, for my firm. We’re an LLP, a Limited Liability Partnership, and he works solely for us.” I laughed. “He’s going to be so pissed when he hears this whole story!”

“Will that cause problems?”

“He’ll get over it; he has quite a reputation as a player, and I pay him well. Although, when he sees you… It was a blind date, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he has no idea what you look like?”

“No.”

“Maybe we won’t tell him.”

“Brandt, he knows my name.”

“Well, yes, there’s that. I’ll ponder on that a bit. Have you ever considered changing it?”

“Keep pondering.”

“Right.”

“While you’re pondering, is there any chance that the whims of the gods and the wonders of modern medicine have had a meeting of the minds?”

“By all that’s holy, I believe they might have, yes.”

She smiled and then set about using her oral skills to once again make me hard and throbbing, and when I was, she mounted me, her back to me here I could admire her fine ass and tease her tight pucker as she rode me to several more of her intense orgasms. When she again broke my resolve sometime later, tumbling me off the orgasm ledge, I sensed that she wasn’t quite ready to stop.

I lifted her bodily off my softening organ and resettled her on my face, and after a brief moment of surprise, she warmed to the idea and began to ride my lips and tongue with equal enthusiasm. I was familiar with the citrus tang of my own cum, and the combination of that with her musky allspice was not at all off-putting. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, every wiggle, every gasp and moan and clench, and every drop of our combined arousal. I even enjoyed the few times I nearly blacked out as she smothered me during her peaks, although those moments remain a bit foggy in my memory.

When she finally toppled off of me, gasping and twitching, exhausted and satiated, she muttered, “My… fucking… God,” and promptly fell asleep.

I dried my face as best I could on a pillowcase before pulling her into my arms and joining her in a well-earned nap. When we awoke we stayed in bed – after I went and brought us another glass of wine. She asked about my company, and I told her. I explained that we are one of several groups that are buying and restoring the buildings in the ravaged area, “gentrifying” it, for lack of a better word. That as long as there was demand from people wanting to live in the city – or move back to the city - and the real estate market remained hot, it would continue.

I told her that the difference in our company versus the others is that we dedicate ten percent of the units in each building for Section 8 housing, agreeing to take whatever small amount the government pays but withholding the right to screen our applicants closely; some people just need a break, a chance to raise their family in a safe, clean environment rather than squalor.

By strictly screening out people with criminal records, drug abusers, and gangs, we provided that opportunity for deserving people, and by limiting it to ten percent we could both afford to do it and keep the buildings from falling into the pit of despair and disrepair that public housing often becomes and keep the government largely out of it. We took what they paid and went from there.

She asked about my building, where I lived and where we currently were, and I told her that I owned that building myself, as the sole proprietor. Hence my large penthouse apartment, of course. I also explained that the luxury apartment buildings we redeveloped did not dedicate a percentage to Section 8 housing, that instead, the exorbitant, truly outrageous prices charged for those units allowed us to defray the cost of some of the others, which were still a massive upgrade and far better than most Section 8 housing.

She thought about it quietly for a time and then said, “Well, you’re doing something, at least. Before, you were so down because nothing was being done. Brandt, this is something.”

“It’s pissing in the ocean. I mean, yes, it helps some, but it’s so little, and so late. But yes, we’re trying.”

To change the subject before I went too dark again, I asked about her work. She’d told me earlier that she worked with, but not for, the Museum of Modern Art. Turned out she was a specialist in art restoration, so our careers were not entirely dissimilar. Focusing primarily on American artworks of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, she was an expert at mitigating and repairing damage caused by water, fire, vandalism, or just time and neglect, especially in important works that had been housed in less than ideal conditions in the collections of private citizens, and which were often being donated to the museum.

She was also training in art appraisal and had always had an interest in architecture, indeed had been halfway to an architecture degree before changing focus. Her history explained a lot of things and also proved she was far more than just an extraordinarily beautiful woman and a clever conversationalist. I was suitably impressed – and further enamored by the moment.

In the meanwhile, her nearness and warmth and scent, not to mention her touch, had once again triggered a significant Cialis effect in a certain older man who, for some reason, she seemed to find very attractive and charming. I was beginning to have thoughts of a future with her, and to feel happier and more optimistic than I had in a long time.

Still, she turned her back on me; fortunately, it was only to get on her hands and knees, look over her shoulder at me out of the corner of her eye in that way that women have, and say, “Come on, lover, I need that big cock in me again…"