Anya Marie has spent a dozen Friday nights at my apartment overlooking the Potomac River. She always arrives in her trademark sheath dress, heels and little else - I've never known her to wear panties. With her pixyish, platinum hair she reminds me of Pris, Daryl Hannah's sexy character in Blade Runner and radiates sexual energy like a dying star.
She travels from Baltimore so we always share a glass of wine to unwind. We talk about our days. I always enjoy catching up on her adventures; she's funny and easy and real. That's probably why I've had her back time after time - there is nothing false about this girl. "I think I'm a sex addict," she confessed to me after our first night together. She's never given me a reason to doubt it. She soaks my sheets, and is gratifyingly incoherent when I'm done fucking her. She goes as hard as she can, and when it's over there is nothing left, and often, she simply passes out from her exertions. I throw the sheets over her and let her sleep.
I've had Anya on every piece of furniture in my apartment,
on my kitchen counter, against my front door, in the shower. Slow or fast; gently or roughly; she is an obedient girl and once you earn her trust, she will submit to almost anything. She does what she's told, and with an endearing eagerness and energy. She belongs on her knees, and as soon as she is on them you will understand why. She gives head beautifully, but sometimes I have to take her by the head and show her a harder way. Just because I can. If she trusts you, she will accept it gratefully. Her ass, I realize, is the reason I have hands in the first place. "Don't leave too many marks," she begged once. I did my best.
In the morning, I always wake first. She sleeps naked and on
her side. I wake her by gently caressing her shoulders, back and stomach. Down her legs, and between her thighs. She wakes but doesn't. Murmuring her legs part on instinct, and she's always wet. I lick and finger her until her thighs are slick, and then I fuck her hard. The only sounds are her cries and moans. I like to watch her head thrash back and forth as if she can't quite comprehend what is being done to her body. I don't think we've ever spoken until we've both cum and are bathed in sweat. Then we collapse back onto my bed until we have the strength to move.
There is no better way to start a weekend.