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Joe woke up most agreeably being sucked by Jenny, and she rolled on a condom as soon as she saw he’d awakened and settled onto her back, legs wide. Joe’s mouth headed to her pussy.
“I’m horny enough,” Jenny complained.
Joe made sure anyway, and continued to until she was near cumming, only then moving up and driving in.
By the time Joe came, Jenny had reached her third orgasm, the first arriving almost immediately upon his insertion.
“So good,” she murmured, pulling him down for a kiss. They hadn’t kissed until then, and lingered on it.
They shared a shower, dressed and went out for breakfast at the Pink Teacup, a favorite of Joe’s. Afterwards they went shopping, to a couple record stores.
At the first, Jenny exclaimed, “They have my friend’s single!”
“Cool,” Joe laughed. “I’ll buy it for you.”
He found a couple singles as well from bands he liked at Max’s, and a bootleg tape of Suicide recorded there. He thought he might have been in the audience for that amazing show.
The second shop had more avant garde music, and Joe picked up a Derek Bailey album and one with a sax player who actually played accompanied by a creaky floor. They didn’t linger since it really wasn’t Jenny’s cup of tea.
They rested in Washington Square Park near a busker singing his heart out for a small crowd, Joe dropping a five dollar bill in the guitar case before they left.
They headed to the East Village for some clothes shopping, Joe finding a cool Stetson that fit his big head and bought Jenny some black jeans and a t shirt featuring Johnny and his current band. Jenny wanted to see the shops Anne had turned her on to, and she found a cute skirt and even cuter baseball jerseys at one and a really nice and really inexpensive velvet dress at another. As usual they never had Joe’s size.
After Joe purchased another couple of nickel bags of pot, they headed to Fifth Street for some Indian food, something new for Jenny and she very much enjoyed it. They walked back to Joe’s apartment, Joe continuing to be the pack horse mostly and was relieved when they finally arrived.
His roommates were up, the couple getting ready to cop and looking like they needed it. “No thanks,” said Joe. The bottle blonde came out of her room and handed the couple a twenty for her cocaine. Gail barely glanced at Joe, the glance with disdain.
“Fuck her,” Joe thought, but chuckled to himself.
“What?” Jenny asked.
“You sure you don’t want in?” asked his roommate, Greg.
“I’m sure,” Joe replied, heading to his room, Jenny following.
“What was the chuckle?” Jenny asked, nestled against Joe on the bed where he basically collapsed.
“I was remembering you had that cocaine but didn’t offer it.”
“I guess I was kind of pissed. If Gail hadn’t been there, I’d bet we could have hung out with Richard Hell.”
“Except we wouldn’t have been there,” Joe pointed out.
“True,” Jenny chuckled.
They kicked back for a while, Joe working at his long poem, beginning it’s rewriting while Jenny sat up in bed reading Stranger in a Strange Land.
“We should probably go,” Joe sighed.
His token dressing up was wearing a white button down shirt, a black Max’s shirt beneath it, and a bolo tie with a turquoise slider. Otherwise his usual black jeans and white tennis shoes, with the leather jacket as his jacket. He did add his new hat.
Jenny put on the velvet dress Joe just bought her and just panties underneath it. A pair of black flats, her only other shoes, finished the look. “I should buy some more panties,” she told him.
“You look great!” he said, hugging her. “We’ll do some more shopping tomorrow.”
“Maybe some make-up too,” she pouted.
“You don’t need it.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
She’d had a makeup kit and some lipstick, but decided it was too teenager for her and left it.
“Could we go to Bloomingdale’s tomorrow?” she asked, adjusting his bolo.
“You look so handsome.”
The gallery show was intense, and not just the nude, homoerotic, sado-masochistic images, but the people as well. Patti Smith was there as was Richard Hell, whom Jenny finally got to talk to, along with Tom Verlaine from Television and Alan Vega from Suicide, and several New York artists of renown whom Joe recognized. Joe talked to Alan, having known him from Max’s, but mostly hung out with Carol and then Stella and Mark, and it was like Carol handed him off to them, a sort reverse cutting in. Joe actually enjoyed their conversation, and he found it easier to stick with them than meeting some of the heroes of his, both musicians and artists, which he’d never had been comfortable doing. Jenny though had no problems with it, bouncing from celebrity to celebrity and seeming to amuse them, charming them with her wide-eyed innocence.
“Ready to go?” Mark finally asked.
“Uhm, let me see if Jenny’s ready.”
“She doesn’t…” Mark started before Jenny flung herself into Joe’s presence. “This is so cool Joe!” she exclaimed.
“I’m eryaman escort bayan glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he laughed. “Mark just invited us to leave with them.”
“I didn’t…” Mark started and got a piercing glare from Stella, stopping him.
Jenny contemplated the suggestion, looking around the room. “I guess I’m ready.”
“What about Carol?” Joe asked, spotting her.
“She’ll be fine,” Stella said, which Joe didn’t think answered his question.
He gestured to her that he was leaving with Mark and Stella and Carol’s wave seemed to confirm her staying.
“Let’s go then,” Mark said impatiently.
Half expecting one of the two limos waiting on the street to be Mark’s, instead Mark bypassed them and waved down a Checker cab. Both Mark and Stella looked disappointed when Joe took the shotgun seat.
The place they stopped at and unloaded ended up posh, midtown Park Avenue posh. Mark’s third floor apartment wasn’t any less so. “How the other half lives,” Joe thought.
And it was Mark’s apartment. Stella explained during their intimate moments that she mostly stayed in a modest one bedroom in the Battery near her work.
Mark, their gracious host, took their jackets and hung them in a closet near the door. Their shoes followed. He gestured down the hallway to a door to the second bedroom on the left and the bathroom and the office on the right. All along the hallway pictures hung, nudes, both men and women, mostly both. Joe recognized a male nude done by Tom of Finland whom he’d read about somewhere. Most depicted non-European men and women of other races, like something from the Kama Sutra, a particularly athletic position, and a Japanese cartoon image of a cock spurting between extra-large breasts.
Past the hallway the apartment opened up to a large living room done in chrome and white leather with a mirror coffee table at the center, and on the other side of the chrome and leather sofa, what looked like a teak dining table with tall modernist wooden chairs surrounding it, a kitchen across from it with a white island, and white tile and white enameled fixtures.
The white shag carpet tickled Joe’s toes.
“How do you clean this?” Joe asked.
“Steam cleaning once a week,” Mark chuckled, heading to a closet, part of a wall that truncated the space, Mark’s bedroom. A narrower area of the open space cut into by the bedroom was an entertainment center, a couch and armchair facing a large television set, set in a cabinet that also had his stereo component system, his record albums lining the bottom. Windows looking over Park Avenue ended the space, obviously a view shared by his bedroom.
The erotic theme continued on the walls of the open space, mostly paintings by artists Joe didn’t recognize, although the one with nude men dappled by the reflection from a swimming pool looked somewhat familiar. Hockney read the signature. Again there was an exotic, international diversity. Aside from the Hockney, a much older painting looking to be of a Middle Eastern harem drew his eye.
“Mark’s an import/export trader of fine art,” Stella explained, standing beside Joe.
“Amongst other things,” Mark chuckled, setting a large hookah down on the mirror table with several hoses to draw in the smoke, what he’d gotten from the closet, which surprised Joe, the mirrored surface presuming cocaine.
From a white enameled chest of drawers against the wall Mark pulled out a jar and a fancy dagger which he used to extract a black sticky substance. Opium.
“Almost ready,” he grinned, opening another drawer and lifted out an ornately detailed silver jar along with what looked like an ivory spoon with a tiny concave surface at the end, also detailed, the cocaine.
Setting those down, he went back to the cabinet, bringing out a bottle of Armagnac and four snifters. “Could you pour us some water dear?” he asked Stella, who abandoned Joe to fetch them. Joe decided to accompany her, filling four glasses with ice from a small bin in the freezer in which she poured from a gallon carafe filtered water.
“He’s getting himself into an optimal state,” Stella explained.
“Sex of course,” Stella giggled, giving Joe a kiss. “Just the right kind of state, and he’ll fuck anyone.”
“Yes. He’s a very good lover Joe.”
“What’s taking so long?” Mark asked.
“We’re coming,” Stella chuckled.
By the time they returned, Stella steering Joe to sit with her on the loveseat across from Jenny sitting on the couch, Mark was up putting an album on the stereo which ended up being some kind of quad sound surrounding them, Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. He swayed his slim hips back to them, and grabbing a stick match from a box, struck it against the box and lit the bowl, immediately grabbing a hose, the others doing the same, and finally settling down next to Jenny.
It was a sweet smoke that filled their lungs, and things became dreamy not long after.
After taking in the smoke, the other three sipped the Armagnac, ankara escort following with water while Mark opened the silver jar and filled the small spoon with a pinkish white powder and snorted it, one for each nostril. He offered it to Jenny.
“No thanks,” she responded.
“You should. It’s the finest money can buy.”
“No, but thanks.”
“Perhaps a taste if you don’t mind kissing me.”
He dampened a fingertip and brought it to the jar, putting the powder on it before bringing it to his tongue. Leaning into Jenny, she accepted his kiss and the necessary French kissing that followed. It lasted longer than Joe expected, though Joe was distracted by his own lips and tongue meeting Stella’s.
“Oh wow,” Jenny giggled after the kiss. “My tongue’s getting numb.”
Stella filled each nostril with the powder. Joe wasn’t sure if he wanted any, but a nod from Jenny gave him permission somehow and he took in his own.
“You want some?” Mark asked again.
“No,” Jenny smiled.
“Then maybe,” his hands slid beneath the top of her dress, slowly and gently, taking hold of a breast with the same sort of care, “I could numb other parts of you.”
She giggled and pushed her dress down, revealing her pert breasts.
“Very nice,” he smiled, caressing each one before coaxing her onto her back, spooning the cocaine on each nipple and sniffing it up before suckling her.
“Ooh,” she reacted.
“Come on Joe,” Stella said, standing and taking his hand to coax him up. She let go to grab her drinks and so he did too and followed her to the smaller bedroom they’d passed in the hallway. They both drank from the liquor and the water before setting them down and Stella moved against him, pulling his head down for a kiss. His hands held her slim back, feeling the shape of it beneath her men’s dress shirt. Hers went lower, grabbing his ass cheeks and pulling him against her, his groin slightly higher than hers. His hands moved up her back and to her tie which he loosened. Hers moved to his jeans, undoing his belt and the button and unzipping, and a hand slipping in to caress his half hard penis.
He broke the kiss to remove her tie and undo her shirt, revealing a lacy white bra holding her breasts, more substantial than he expected. “Front clasp,” she whispered directly into his ear, blowing into it and licking it as well, making him tingle, adding to the thickening of his cock along with her relentless caresses.
He undid it and removed shirt and bra and lowered her onto the queen sized bed, which broke her contact with his cock.
His hands and his mouth went to her breasts. Small nipples seemed not as sensitive as most he’d encountered. “Harder,” she told him. He tried scraping a nipple with his teeth. “Yes!” she moaned.
So he sucked and nibbled while his hands moved down to her slacks, undoing them, and her arching upwards had him stripping them off and then the matching lacy white panties. His hands and mouth changed places. Usually he avoided the clit right away, but he sensed this woman was different and went on attack immediately, lapping at it, “Yes!” then sucking it, “Fuck!” then a gentle nibble, “Oh God! Condoms in the drawer!”
He moved off her to get a strip, pulling off one and pulling his pants and underpants down enough to roll it on before returning to his place between her long wide legs and nudging his glans against her clit.
“Just fuck me!” she breathed. “Shove that monster in and just fuck me!”
Joe was surprised how wet she’d gotten or he would have been reluctant to do what she demanded, so he indeed pushed deep, pushing through some resistance where maybe she could have been better lubricated, but that just made her hump into him sending him fully in and groan, “Fuck Joe! Fuck me!”
He grabbed her ass, softer and maybe a bit fuller than he imagined, his head lowering to keep nibbling on her nipples, and he fucked her hard, pulling her against him for even greater impact.
“Yes!” she kept repeating with each impact. “Fucker!” got added occasionally. Her legs moved up and clutched his lower back, lifting her ass as well, so he was fucking down into her, and her fingers moved to rasp her clit harshly. It was the most violent fuck of his life and she loved every moment of it. And the intense friction should have had him cumming quicker, but whether it was the opium or the weird circumstances of the immediate hard fucking without any preliminary time before it, it became relentless, minutes for her first orgasm and then even longer for her next.
“Fuck Joe,” she finally relented. “Hold on.”
He stopped and she pulled away, turned over, and waved her ass at him. “Okay.”
He plunged back in and proceed to fuck as hard as ever, his hand grabbing her ass and even spanking it, which brought out an even louder “Yes,” so he repeated.
Finally, after she came at least a couple more times, her pulling on her nipples harshly probably helping, he finally felt his balls fill and need release, so reaching around and grabbing her sincan escort bayan by upper pussy and thus her clit, he hammered close in, actually lifting her into his thrusts, until blessed release finally arrived, more relief than any grand orgasm.
Once done ejaculating, holding the condom to his dwindling penis, he pulled out and collapsed on his back. She moved onto her back as well, and they lay inches away from each other.
“Holy shit Joe,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he could only say, emotionlessly.
She finally got up and brought him his Armagnac, setting his glass of water on the bedside table. He sat up, resting his head against the headboard and took a big sip and followed it with the water. She sat crosslegged beside him.
“When I’m with women,” she explained, “it’s all about tenderness with a bit of teasing. With men, I like it hard.”
“Okay,” Joe responded.
“Usually that means…well…quick. A good hard quick fuck, you know?”
“Do you get off?” Joe asked.
“It’s about the intensity. Sometimes I grab a dildo and get off in front of him, and if he sticks around and isn’t all male ego about it, he’ll fuck me again and last longer and sometimes I get off then.”
“To me it’s all about the woman since it’s easy for a man to cum.”
“Maybe not so easy for you.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe the opium?”
“I’ve fucked junkies. They can last but often lose their hardness. You certainly didn’t.”
Joe could only shrug. He had a feeling some discomfort was involved. She was an attractive woman and had a nice if not all that firm a body, but it felt forced, like it was automatic, something to get done and get over with. And then there was Jenny.
“Is Jenny alright?” Joe asked.
“If Mark gets it up enough to fuck her, he tends towards the careful, probably from fucking much smaller orifices. When we fuck, when he gets in a state for that, he’s the only man who I like taking it slow with me and it feels like lovemaking.”
“So he won’t be like I just was.”
She chuckled and turned off the light and covered them with the sheet and blanket. “Goodnight Joe,” she murmured, turning her back to him.
“Goodnight Stella,” he sighed.
He didn’t think he’d sleep, but her steady breath seemed to coax him into it.
He awoke feeling his thighs moved, and saw Mark kneeling between them, his hand moving on a slim and not very long cock.
“Whoah!” he exclaimed, his foot moving back and pushing against Marks skinny chest, pushing him away, not quite a kick, and rolled off the bed. He’d pushed off his pants before he slept and pulled up his underpants, so he grabbed the pants and rushed out the door, hearing, “You can fuck me.”
He walked quickly to the master bedroom seeing Jenny asleep under a sheet.
“Jenny,” he said, and when she didn’t awake he knelt beside her on the bed and gently pulled on her shoulder. “Jenny?”
“Oh hey Joe,” she smiled, stretching, revealing her naked breasts. “What’s wrong?”
“We should go.”
She got out of bed naked and went out of the bedroom where her clothes were. Meanwhile he put on his pants before joining her.
“You okay?” she asked, turning her back so he could zip her.
“Later,” he told her, and they walked to the front door, putting their shoes on and their jackets before Joe unlocked the door, a deadbolt, the lock on the handle locking behind him when he closed the door.
They took the elevator down to the bottom floor quietly and exited the building. The air was brisk, and the tall buildings channeled a breeze which struck their backs as they walked south, but it felt refreshing.
“You okay to walk?” Joe asked.
Being early morning, around four, the streets were relatively quiet, the occasional taxi zipping by.
“What happened?” Jenny asked, taking his hand.
“After you left he wanted me naked on the table and he put some of that coke on my clit and licked it and kept licking like he wanted to get me off, but it kind of numbed me you know and he really didn’t spend much time there. He got naked and we danced, which was kind of nice and then he brought me to the bedroom, but he hadn’t gotten hard so I offered to blow him. When I managed to get him hard he put on a rubber and had me face down and tried fucking me but got soft again. He asked if I’d done anal and I told him I had even though I hadn’t but his penis was kind of small and skinny, so…Anyway he went off I think to snort some more and then came back rubbing himself hard again and used some lubricant on him and in my butthole and pushed in, slow and careful you know, and it was…I definitely felt it but it was okay and I told him and he pushed all the way in and fucked me kind of slow. I looked back and his eyes were closed like maybe pretending it wasn’t me or something and finally he got faster for a few strokes and stopped and must have cum. I told him I had to go to the bathroom and he said he’d go with me just to get something to clean himself, which he did before leaving me. Once done, I washed up using one of those hand held shower things before returning. He’d put on some boxers and had me put on these like see through harem pants and we sat together and smoked some more of that sweet stuff.”
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