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At The OralFix: Aphrodisiac Café.

The Museum of Sex, 5th Avenue and 27th Street, NYC.

Fiction by Essemoh Teepee (2010)©

After a flurry of texts, the confusion of times and traffic I see her; long strawberry blonde hair, leaf print autumnal skirt floating like gossamer around the tops of her brown leather knee length boots. A soft romantic frilled wrap over-jacket covering a plum coloured shoestring strap camisole completes her sophisticated outfit. I wonder if there is any advice in Cosmopolitan about what to wear when meeting a long distance lover for the first time? I am conscious that I am dressed like a tourist, one at the end of a long vacation at that.

All thoughts of what to do at a first meeting; to kiss or not, hug or not, are blown away by the reality of the circumstance. A fleeting kiss to her cheek and a brief touch of my hand to her waist are subsumed by the reality of needing to buy an admission ticket. The intention had been to meet outside and I would take us in, but reality always blows smoke in the face of fantasy.

The next attempt to go to her is thwarted by the well-dressed security guard requiring me to check my bag. This is so not the cool, suave, dominant alpha male impression at first contact I was trying for. What the hell; who cares? She is here!

The eventual greeting is so ordinary; a platonic kiss to her cheek, just a little more ardent, more intimate in intent. The warmth and softness of her to my touch is stunning. Reality smacks one in the face with an assault on all the senses. The single dimension of sound, from which so much came, is swamped. She is trembling under my touch, as though shivering with the cold. A whispered remark into her ear draws a soft whimper.

I suggest drinks in the basement café; a chance to talk quietly together and sort out the next step, assuming there was to be something more than just saying "Hello".

The OralFix café is in the basement; black walls, black floor, black stools and equally ebony high level tables, all under very low lighting. The music is sexy jazz and R&B. If you can make out anywhere in NYC then it has to be here, an inspired choice of venue. The café bar has a menu of ridiculous pseudo aphrodisiac concoctions with equally ludicrous names. She chooses a Shanghai Rose: sensuality and seduction. I pick a Golden Blossom; endurance and performance. Well what did you expect; I need all the help I can get!

Perched on stools, our faces are never more than inches apart. The scent of her hair and her skin so close tends to overwhelm my attention. The magnetism of her mouth is impossible to resist. The first kiss, which is only momentarily hesitant, becomes a deep exploration. I make her mouth mine and possess her with my tongue as she whimpers and moans softly.

Her long hair is like fine silk against my face. I run my hand through it, my fingers adoring each strand. Her head feels so small in my grip as I control her with my hand. I explore her with my hands and my mouth. A game of hide and seek with her earlobe, as to bite it is to make her come.

I draw forth shuddering silent orgasms at my command, whispered into her ears as I hold her in my arms.

“I only have one silent one in me...”

As time passes she slowly climbs into my lap, limbs entwined. Her heat pressed against my thigh. I cover her mouth with mine and relish feeling her shudder uncontrollably, desperately trying to make no sound as I give her multiple orgasms.

 “That one was a wet one...I think I have made your pant leg wet”

“I’m not complaining.” I kiss her deeply again, gripping her hair and tugging it a little so that she groans and presses against me and orgasms. As she recovers she says huskily into my face.

“I want to get naked...”

“I have the feeling that if I told you to get naked and spread on the counter top you would...”

“Do you want me to..?” The promise of submission in her words, the power of her sensuality to thrill me is making my cock ache. I cover her mouth with mine and suck her breath into my lungs.

“This is me behaving...” is her remark as we draw breath.

“I would love to see you misbehave...”

“If I just put my leg over yours, like this…” is her response to my automatic quip. We could only be closer in bed.

My hand is kneading her small soft breast as she whimpers. Her hand is slipping between my legs to hold my balls and she moans into my mouth. Her thighs squeeze mine.

I gather up the hem and reach under her skirt to discover the promise I had hoped she kept; stocking tops and soft thighs under my fingers. She is cool there in contrast to the fiery heat of her shoulders and face. My fingers search out her core, drawing aside the tightly stretched satin panties cupping her sex. They slip so readily into her wet depths. She feels cool inside compared to the heat of my hand. Her groans and shudders are delicious as I reach into her. When I exchange one long finger for fatter thumb she comes, clutching at me, holding me tightly to her.

She moans into my mouth whispers urgently,

“Don’t you move!” She shudders and stifles her moans as the aftershocks wrack her.

“What do I do now?” I ask, a little at a loss for the first time. She groans into my mouth,

“Fuck me...”

I push my thumb into her more deeply, slowly finger fucking her until she comes again after only a few deliberate strokes.

I wait as she subsides and then I switch, sliding my finger back in to her, searching out her clit with my slippery thumb. I slip deep into her, reaching for her end and slip my thumb across her hard nub. She grips me tight in yet another climax. I want to keep doing this forever but we are in a café after all.

When she subsides once more, I slip my fingers out of her and from between her thighs. As we lean close, face to face, foreheads touching, I lick my fingers and taste her cunt in front of her. She groans as I do so and I am so satisfied. She tastes sweet and salty with such a heady musk.

“I feel like I am a sixteen year old being naughty in the movies...” she says and I know just what she means. The decades have evaporated in the heat of passion.

“That poor guy is trying to keep up with us. He can’t believe that we are still going.” She nods over my shoulder. I look behind me and see a couple at a nearby table, twenty years our junior devouring each other. They had not been there when we began. I laugh and return to the softness of her long neck.

She smells of woman. She has been warm during the journey here and her pheromones are strong. She has been excited and come several times. I catch an exciting whiff of sweat that makes everything so fucking real!

I find her ear with my mouth, suck and bite her tiny earlobe and she shudders and comes. I bite her shoulder and she moans.

“You like that don’t you...?”

“Yesss, No, whatever gave you that idea. Stop it this minute or I shall call…. Someone,” she jokes, but her humour is laced with desire. Her fingers find their way under my open neck shirt and she strokes the curled matt of fur there.

“I can feel your heartbeat...” Her words remind us both of other times when it was only words we had.

Her fingernail grazes my nipple and makes me arch. In return I crush her breast, very hard. The sweet pain makes her gasp and arch against me in turn. Later she will tell me I left a “treasured bruise”, marking her in my lust.

I don’t want this to end, but it must, time is limited and it has marched as we sat entwined in the dark. I have to be elsewhere and she has a long journey out of the City. It is achingly hard to say goodbye. We may never meet again; I might never taste her or feel her on my fingers. But then I didn’t think this meeting could happen; never say never.

We part outside on the sidewalk, the city buzzing around us in the afternoon sun. I head uptown, she walks downtown. Later she tells me that she walked through Times Square in a haze of happy pleasure. I return to being just another foreign visitor enjoying all the flavours of the Big Apple.

 Never say never.

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