Exotika 08 - Private Daydreams Read online

  “Are you all right?” Richard whispered from her right. She came out of her reverie with a start, feeling embarrassed. The daydream had seemed so real she dropped a hand to her thigh to make sure Richard’s hand wasn’t really there.

  “Yes,” she responded. “Just a twinge.”

  God, stop that! she told herself. She struggled to pay attention to Kathy. She was embarrassed to realize her fantasy had made her wet.

  At that moment Paul Dartling walked in and apologized for being late. The CEO was a handsome, confident man with a barrel chest and a full head of gray hair. He was divorced and was rumored to have a girlfriend somewhere in the building, but no one could ever find out if it were true. If so, it would certainly be against company rules—ones he no doubt helped create.

  Kathy quickly wrapped up and everyone settled in to see Diane’s presentation. She stood and nervously brought up the first slide. She began to speak, finding her nerves calmed as she went through the facts, requesting backing for the new project.

  Paul nodded several times during her talk, encouraging her. At one point, he asked a pointed question and she fielded it like a pro. He smiled and nodded his approval. When she finished, she sat down and Richard applauded, causing the junior members to join in.

  “Thank you, that was very concise and to the point. I appreciate it,” Paul said.

  “Yes,” Richard echoed. “Very effective presentation.”

  Diane smiled and nodded shyly. Suddenly another image thrust itself into her mind. She was lying on her back on the edge of the table, her legs spread, her pantyhose and panties gone. Paul was standing between them, his pants down around his knees, his fingers like talons on her hips as he pulled her to him. His hard cock speared her and it seemed so real she could almost feel him as he slid into her wetness. The others in the room were staring transfixed, but instead of being horrified, they were turned on by the scene. Kathy’s hand was under her skirt and Richard was unbuttoning the blouse of a junior exec named Susie so he could grab her breasts.

  The image was so sudden and so powerful, Diane gasped with the impact of it.

  “Are you all right, Diane?” Paul asked.

  “No, I mean, yes, I’m fine. I just…a cough got stuck in my throat.”

  He poured her a glass of water from the metal pitcher on the table. “Here. Wouldn’t want to lose you now!” he joked, and everyone chuckled along with him.

  She drank the water, grateful she could cover her gaffe. What was going on? Why would she think about that now? She had never imagined herself as the boss’s girlfriend before. Why now?

  The meeting broke and they filed out. Paul pulled her aside. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, stepping close to her.

  She knew he was flirting with her and she couldn’t deny that she liked the attention, even if it was wrong. Her eyes dropped as she demurred and she could swear she saw his pants bulge with his erection. She had a sudden urge to touch it, right here in the hallway.

  My god!

  “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” It took all of her effort to raise her eyes to his face.

  “Well,” he said, trying to prolong the moment, “if you need anything, just let me know.” With some effort he stepped back, but he made no attempt to disguise his hard-on. She glanced at it again and she knew he caught her doing so.

  “Uh, yes, sure. Thanks, Mr. Dartling.” She fled down the hall, shocked at what had just happened.

  Richard caught her as she moved down the hall, her mind in turmoil, and asked to stop by for a debriefing.

  “Diane, are you all right?” he asked when he had closed the door behind them.

  Not you too! she thought. “Yes, sure. It was just a cough.”

  “Well, you looked pale and flustered there for a moment. I just wanted to make sure you aren’t coming down with anything.” He came over and touched her shoulder out of concern and Diane found the gesture pleasurable.

  “No, really, I’m okay.” Had she really made a scene in there in front of the CEO? She didn’t understand what was going on in her mind.

  She realized Richard was still holding her upper arm and she took a step back. This wasn’t right. He was married! He was her boss! But another part of her said—Yeah, do it! Right here in his office!

  He dropped his arm immediately when she resisted. She made an excuse and fled, heading immediately to the restroom near her office. Once inside, she was relieved to find it empty. She went to a stall and locked the door. Pulling her dress up, she looked down at herself. Her panties were soaked! She wiggled her pantyhose and panties down to her thighs and stared at the mess. God! This had never happened to her before! Diane grabbed several wads of tissue and began to sop up.

  The touch of the tissue to her clit made her shake. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Diane sat down suddenly on the toilet and pushed her pantyhose down past her knees, splaying them apart. Then she used her right hand to rub her clit. She was so turned on, she expected to explode at once but it was strangely unsatisfying. She didn’t know why—all she wanted was a quick orgasm then she could get back to normal.

  Almost by itself, her shaking left hand reached out and slid the deadbolt back, causing the door to come ajar. Even as her mind rebelled at the notion she was risking exposure, her mouth dropped open and she felt the rush of an approaching orgasm.

  God!

  Her left hand yanked the door open more until it banged against her knee and her right hand frigged her clit furiously until she came hard, her eyes rolling back in her head. She heard the bathroom door squeak open and she quickly slammed the stall door, throwing the bolt even as her other fingers were held tight to her sloppy clit, the waves of pleasure causing her to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

  She stayed there for a minute and listened as the other woman entered a stall next to hers and peed noisily. Diane didn’t dare move. She waited until the other woman left the stall and washed her hands. Finally she exited and Diane could breathe a sigh of relief.

  What the hell had just happened to her? She had risked her very career here! Why had she opened the stall door? It didn’t make sense.

  She dried herself and adjusted her clothing. She came out and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror—hair slightly disheveled, eyes wide, lipstick smeared. Diane quickly cleaned herself and left, her body shaking.

  She stayed in her office the rest of the day, not even going out for lunch. She made excuses, telling people she had a lot of work to catch up on, and tried to concentrate on her next report.

  At five, she got up and left with the streaming throng of employees, smiling and chatting as if nothing had happened but her mind was elsewhere. She went down the steps to the subway and stood on the crowded platform, waiting for her train. Diane purposely kept her mind blank, humming a tune and thinking of her friends. What would they say about her now?

  When the train arrived, she pushed her way on with dozens of others. She caught a strap and stood there, swaying with the rocking motion of the train. She spotted a young man in a sport coat sitting near the window, reading a newspaper. He was an attractive man, she mused. Too bad he’s married—she had spotted his gold ring right away.

  Then another image forced its way into her brain—she was sitting on his lap, her legs on either side of him. He had his pants down and she had lost her underwear again. His erection rubbed against her clit and she reached down, pressing it hard against her.

  “Fuck me, slut,” he said, and she looked around to see the other passengers staring at her. A few even cheered her on. The sound electrified her and she rose up, feeling the head right at her entrance. She wasn’t ready to end the show just yet, so she rubbed herself back and forth, exaggerating the motion of her hips as the crowd whistled and egged her on.

  When she finally pressed down, forcing his engorged cock into her hot wetness, she had the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced in her life.

  Diane felt hands on her and she came to. Nearby rider
s looked at her with concern.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” a young woman asked her, gripping her elbow to keep her upright. “You seemed to have fainted.”

  She looked around horrified. Another rider held her shoulders from behind and she could feel herself leaning against his strong chest. She realized she had climaxed and passed out momentarily. She pulled herself upright on the strap and stammered, “Uh, yeah, thanks. I’m fine. I guess I just got a little hot in here.”

  The woman nodded but her eyes told Diane the truth—I know what you just did.

  “I’m all right now really.” She turned and nodded to the man behind her, who released her at once. “Thanks.”

  The rest of the ride was uneventful unless she counted her damp, hot pussy that throbbed like a drumbeat in her ears.

  Chapter Three

  Suzanne—Anonymous sex

  Suzanne stood at the bar, sipping a martini and checking her watch. She was supposed to meet an old friend from work at seven, so why did she feel the urge to arrive at six-twenty? Did she want to get sloshed before she showed up?

  She looked around, eyeing the man candy present. For some reason, they all seemed particularly attractive to her tonight. Especially the rugged-looking fellow with the fashionable three-day growth of beard and the shaggy brown head of hair. Was there some connection between the thickness of a man’s hair and his penis size? she wondered. She laughed at herself. That would be a good question to pose to the girls.

  The man caught her eye and Suzanne immediately flashed him a smile. My but I’m being bold today, she thought. He picked up his drink and came over at once.

  “Hello,” he said in a slightly foreign accent she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps Greek? “You look lovely tonight.”

  “Well, thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” Had she just said that? Her pussy seemed to be doing all the talking tonight. Men aren’t the only ones who sometimes let their sex think for them!

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

  “No. My girlfriend and I heard about this place and thought we’d try it out.”

  He looked around. “Girlfriend?”

  “She isn’t here yet. In fact, she might’ve stood me up.” That lie had come out of nowhere. It puzzled her. She squeezed her legs together as if to punish her talkative sex.

  “Ohhh too bad. Well, I’d be happy to buy you a drink. My name is—”

  She held up her hand. “No! No names. There will be no names tonight.”

  The grin started small and expanded until it filled his face. “What a wonderful idea!” he said.

  They chatted over the next drink, which wasn’t easy, for Suzanne didn’t want to know what he did for a living or if he was married, engaged or dating someone regularly. She really had only one question. “Do you live alone?”

  He did.

  She checked her watch. It was ten to seven. Time to go or she’d have some explaining to do. She grabbed her purse. “Is it nearby?”

  They left arm in arm. He hailed a cab and they got in. Once inside, he was all over her, his fingers caressing her breasts, her thighs, his lips planting hot kisses on her neck, cheeks and lips. She loved the way his soft beard rubbed her skin and the manly smell of him.

  Suzanne was on fire herself. This was exactly what she needed, she thought. Since her divorce, she had lived like a monk, waiting for Mr. Right. Her mysterious Greek lover may not be Mr. Right but he certainly was Mr. Right Now.

  The cab came to a stop and Suzanne pulled her clothes together, following the dark stranger out onto the curb. They were in a neighborhood of brownstones. She wasn’t even sure where she was and she didn’t care.

  He led her inside and they went up two flights of stairs. Pausing outside a door, Suzanne could see 314 in gold numbers and immediately looked away, as if even that was too much personal information.

  Once inside, he was on her and she was eager to comply. Her clothes were practically ripped from her body and she didn’t care. When she was completely naked, he swept her up in his powerful arms and carried her to the bedroom. He threw her on the bed and undressed quickly. She watched, her legs slightly apart, as his clothes came off, exposing his well-developed chest. Man candy, she mused, her mouth coming open slightly when he slipped off his boxer shorts. His cock was just the right size and at full attention. Suzanne thought she could hear trumpets.

  “Oh my,” she whispered.

  He crawled over her and began kissing her neck, upper chest and breasts. Suzanne swooned. God this man was making her hot!

  They writhed together on the bed like desperate lovers. He bit her breasts and shoulders and she growled to encourage him. When his hand dropped down to her pussy, she knew she was well lubricated for him.

  “My god, you are so wet,” he commented.

  “Just for you, baby, just for you.”

  He grabbed a condom from his nightstand as she spread herself open for him. She had never felt so alive, so responsive. When he was ready and the tip touched her, she could feel the orgasm building already. No other man had affected her this way, not even her ex. It surprised her.

  “Yes, yes,” she gasped, and he thrust into her in one stroke, as if he had to have her immediately—his overwhelming desire drove her to new heights. The lights seemed to explode in her head. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a comical “O”, and felt the shockwaves of her climax wash through her.

  “Oh god! Oh GOD! OH GOD!” Her hips thrust back at him as she felt his cock piston within her. He was just warming up. Sex had never felt so good. She had no time to think about it.

  She came again and again, each one as powerful as the first. Her mind had come loose from her head and floated somewhere above her. She could look down and see her sweaty body clinging to this strong man, riding him for all she was worth.

  When the stranger finally stiffened and erupted, Suzanne climaxed yet again, feeling each throb of his cock inside her. Then she passed into a blissful twilight.

  When she awoke, it was morning. Wow, she thought, I’ve never been knocked out like that before! She lay in the damp sheets, her pussy delightfully sore. She heard the shower running. Her mystery lover was up already. A sudden urge overtook her. Without another thought, she grabbed her clothes and put them on. All except for her panties. Those she laid carefully on his pillow then tiptoed out of his apartment and into the new dawn.

  Suzanne hailed a cab and went straight home. She knew she had to call her friend and make excuses as to why she hadn’t shown. As the cab made its way uptown, Suzanne could feel her satisfied pussy practically purring.

  Chapter Four

  Wendy—Call girl

  Wendy couldn’t explain the twinges she felt. Ever since her confession to the others, her mind seemed to be preoccupied with sex! And not just any sex—the risky, prohibited sex she had fantasized about—being a whore. She imagined being handed a wad of cash by some mysterious man and ordered to fuck him or do things she had never done before. She chalked it up to their shared fantasies and wondered if the others were having similar thoughts.

  Because Wendy was a “good girl”, she didn’t act on her fantasies. But at home Tuesday night, she did look online for prostitution + New York City and read several stories about arrests, convictions and the problem areas of town. That wasn’t what she wanted, she decided. So she tried call girls + New York City and received several interesting hits. One in-depth story in the Times described the lifestyle and how “degrading” it was for the women involved. To Wendy, it sounded exotic and exciting for reasons she couldn’t explain.

  ”Claire”, the woman in the story—although that wasn’t her real name—had agreed to talk to the reporter after her arrest, perhaps as some sort of warning to others. She had come to New York at age twenty to become an actress and, like many others, had taken a part-time job to make ends meet. But she had lost her job and no auditions had come through. She was too embarrassed to ask her family for help—her pa
rents had told her when she left she was on a fool’s errand and would soon come home, her tail between her legs.

  In desperation, she had pleaded with the landlord to give her a break. His counter-proposal had startled her. If she would make love to him on six separate occasions, he would let her slide on one month’s rent—twelve hundred dollars. Though at first shocked, it had seemed like a good deal to Claire—in a month, she could easily land another job, she reasoned.

  The landlord wasn’t an ogre either—he was a harmless little man in his late forties with a slight pot belly who had lost his wife to cancer three years before. Claire actually felt sorry for him. So she agreed. She made him wear a condom each time and didn’t let him kiss her. Claire told herself she wasn’t selling her body for money. This was a special arrangement, she told herself. A one-time deal.

  However, the month passed and Claire still hadn’t found work. Not only didn’t she have the rent, she had no money for groceries or the utilities either. And she had to have a phone or how else would casting agents find her?

  This time she approached the landlord with another proposal. She would “take care of him” as often as he wanted if he would cover those costs as well. The landlord agreed. In many ways it was like having a sugar daddy. The month went by quickly and Claire had somehow managed to compartmentalize her almost daily trysts with the landlord. He would come by, often at inconvenient times, and she would have to drop everything to satisfy him. Once he had followed her in after she had bought some groceries and fucked her over the arm of the couch, her pants yanked down and her groceries forgotten on the kitchen counter. A pint of ice cream had been ruined.

  Still, Claire thought everything would be fine in the short term, just as soon as she found a job or secured a part. Another month went by. The landlord began to complain. Her expenses totaled eighteen hundred a month—even if he fucked her every day, which he didn’t, he was still paying a lot to keep her. He began to put pressure on her to get a job or get new “clients”. At first she hadn’t understood, but she had quickly gotten it. It shocked her that she had in fact become a whore.