control, my cock is still hungry and needs to be sated.
I have to say that the biggest problem for me is that I always measure every other woman by the standard I perceive Melanie to be… and they never measure up. The women in my escapades curb my passion—nothing more, nothing less and tonight… I need some curbing to be done.
I make my way into an establishment on the Upper East Side for a drink. It always humors me how ‘the high society girls’ make their way over as if they aren’t trying to pick me up.
I eye the latest flavor who has eased her way into the bar stool next to me. Her hair is done in long dark ringlets cascading down her back and her make-up appears as though it was professionally applied by a stylist. She wears a tight, salmon colored, banded dress that lifts up just high enough to show the lace at the top of her sexy, black thigh highs when she sits down.
I don’t have much time for the high society women who reside in my income bracket. They remind me too much of my Mother—uptight, frigid, social-climbing cunts.
I’m smart enough to realize they can’t be that frigid all the time, not if they are anything like my ‘Mommy Dearest.’
I know all too well I am the seed spawned from an affair my Mother had years ago but like any good high society family, denial runs rampant. The secret has been swept under the rug, and all is well in the Wentworth home. In my world, appearances are everything. I learned to wear a mask very early on. Needless to say… it has been very useful to me in more ways than one.
Tonight’s entertainment makes her way to the ladies’ room. I retrieve my wallet and lay a generous tip down for the bartender. I swiftly turn on the toe of my Italian leather shoes and make my way into the hallway that houses the restrooms to await the brunette. She steps through the door and I lean in to speak in her ear.
“I’m leaving and I would love nothing more than to pin you in the alleyway and fuck your brains out before I retire for the evening.”
With that, I turn swiftly and make my way out the door. The baffled brunette stands for a moment in shock and watches while I walk away, as if I had said nothing.
I lean against the alleyway wall, smoking a cigarette and listening for the click clacking of stilettos that I know will soon come.
Sure enough, the brunette turns the corner, looking back and forth over her shoulder behind her as she makes her way into the alley.
As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, I grab a handful of hair and growl in her ear, “Shut the fuck up and get your hands up against the wall!”
I pull her legs out, bend her body at the waist, and move behind her as I begin to growl threats. “Don’t you dare move your hands off of that wall, bitch!”
I stand behind her and slowly shimmy her dress up. I yank her G-string off of her as if it is nonexistent and watch her body tremble with interest as I lean in and begin to degrade her with my speech. “I’m a vile nasty man who is going to use you in a back alley and probably never see you again!”
I jerk her head back and command her to open her mouth. I shove the soiled panties I’ve torn from her body between her perfectly lined lips and into her mouth.
I am viciously defiling her when I look up and see a man who has entered the mouth of the alley. He is now watching us.
“You are a Fifth Avenue slut who is getting fucked in an alleyway while a drunk watches.”
It is evident I’m not the only one who is getting turned on by the knowledge that we now have a voyeur. Little Miss High Society is now clawing her perfectly manicured nails into the bricks as she climaxes.
I grab both of her hips, viciously pounding in and out of her, as I unload into the condom I’m wearing.
I take a moment to recoup and then hiss in her ear, “Don’t call me or look for me. If I ever want you again, I’m well able to find you.”
I turn, making my way down the alley. I can hear her heels clicking
I have to say that the biggest problem for me is that I always measure every other woman by the standard I perceive Melanie to be… and they never measure up. The women in my escapades curb my passion—nothing more, nothing less and tonight… I need some curbing to be done.
I make my way into an establishment on the Upper East Side for a drink. It always humors me how ‘the high society girls’ make their way over as if they aren’t trying to pick me up.
I eye the latest flavor who has eased her way into the bar stool next to me. Her hair is done in long dark ringlets cascading down her back and her make-up appears as though it was professionally applied by a stylist. She wears a tight, salmon colored, banded dress that lifts up just high enough to show the lace at the top of her sexy, black thigh highs when she sits down.
I don’t have much time for the high society women who reside in my income bracket. They remind me too much of my Mother—uptight, frigid, social-climbing cunts.
I’m smart enough to realize they can’t be that frigid all the time, not if they are anything like my ‘Mommy Dearest.’
I know all too well I am the seed spawned from an affair my Mother had years ago but like any good high society family, denial runs rampant. The secret has been swept under the rug, and all is well in the Wentworth home. In my world, appearances are everything. I learned to wear a mask very early on. Needless to say… it has been very useful to me in more ways than one.
Tonight’s entertainment makes her way to the ladies’ room. I retrieve my wallet and lay a generous tip down for the bartender. I swiftly turn on the toe of my Italian leather shoes and make my way into the hallway that houses the restrooms to await the brunette. She steps through the door and I lean in to speak in her ear.
“I’m leaving and I would love nothing more than to pin you in the alleyway and fuck your brains out before I retire for the evening.”
With that, I turn swiftly and make my way out the door. The baffled brunette stands for a moment in shock and watches while I walk away, as if I had said nothing.
I lean against the alleyway wall, smoking a cigarette and listening for the click clacking of stilettos that I know will soon come.
Sure enough, the brunette turns the corner, looking back and forth over her shoulder behind her as she makes her way into the alley.
As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, I grab a handful of hair and growl in her ear, “Shut the fuck up and get your hands up against the wall!”
I pull her legs out, bend her body at the waist, and move behind her as I begin to growl threats. “Don’t you dare move your hands off of that wall, bitch!”
I stand behind her and slowly shimmy her dress up. I yank her G-string off of her as if it is nonexistent and watch her body tremble with interest as I lean in and begin to degrade her with my speech. “I’m a vile nasty man who is going to use you in a back alley and probably never see you again!”
I jerk her head back and command her to open her mouth. I shove the soiled panties I’ve torn from her body between her perfectly lined lips and into her mouth.
I am viciously defiling her when I look up and see a man who has entered the mouth of the alley. He is now watching us.
“You are a Fifth Avenue slut who is getting fucked in an alleyway while a drunk watches.”
It is evident I’m not the only one who is getting turned on by the knowledge that we now have a voyeur. Little Miss High Society is now clawing her perfectly manicured nails into the bricks as she climaxes.
I grab both of her hips, viciously pounding in and out of her, as I unload into the condom I’m wearing.
I take a moment to recoup and then hiss in her ear, “Don’t call me or look for me. If I ever want you again, I’m well able to find you.”
I turn, making my way down the alley. I can hear her heels clicking
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