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San Francisco

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San Francisco

December 1985

It has been a busy couple of months for me. I moved to San Francisco from Sacramento in October. I think moving and working in San Francisco will test my relationship with Tom to see if it survives the distance.

Jack though, is another factor I should factor in. We’ve dined and danced in the sheets on several occasions in November. When he comes for business I stay with him at the corporate suite at The Fairmont instead of my cold apartment. Tom as well comes by often. His job in television news brings him to SF at least every other week. It is tricky juggling the time between the two and my time in the women’s tent (first few days in November). So much so the morning after one evening, which included a dinner at Prego’s and fucking late into the night, Jack dropped me off at the bus station for a trip to see Tom in Sacramento.

Tonight though, the day after Christmas, is Jack’s night again.

I stand in front of the mirror. My blue wrap mini dress has a plunging neckline just an inch above my belly button. I am barely more than b-cup so not really any cleavage to speak of, but the smooth fabric shows clearly where my nipples are. My black embellished satin pumps are four inches high. I dab some in strategic locations. Raven hair and ruby lips; let me see if I can make sparks fly from my fingertips.

Jack calls from a bar where he has finished a business meeting. He’ll be over soon to pick me up from my apartment at Gough and Austin. It is only 36 degrees this evening so I am going to need a jacket. I choose a black one with two big buttons and monstrous shoulder pads. It covers to my hips. It will keep me warm enough between quick transfers from inside to outside to inside.

The buzzer rings. I click the squawk box and tell Jack I’ll be right down.

I emerge from the complex and Jack pulls me into his arms. He clutches my bottom. He feels only the fabric on my smooth derriere. I am wearing a thong and a mini-pad. I know Jack too well to trust him not to get me flowing in the taxi. But it isn’t a taxi. It is a limo. Not the stretch kind, the Lincoln Towne car kind.

“Nice legs,” Jack observes.

Jack is wearing a gray two-piece with white shirt and no tie. All that comes to my mind is Casablanca, “I remember every detail, the Germans wore gray, you wore blue.” You is me. I tell Jack of my musing. It is his favorite film and he likes quoting from it.

We step to the car. The chauffeur opens the door and I slide in. Jack goes around to the driver side. He is on me immediately with a passionate kiss and a cold hand on my easily accessible breasts.

“Jack! The driver,” I whine.

“Oh, he has seen it all. No worries. He’s like a doctor,” Jack says.

“True madam, I am discreet,” says Sam the chauffer as he shimmies behind the wheel and buckles in.

I’m not so sure and a bit shy but I don’t protest further.

Jack undoes the jacket and spreads the wrap. He cradles and kisses a breast while a single finger travels from knee to pussy. I open my legs slightly as the blue dress is bunched up to my thighs.

“Uh oh. Are you on your-,” he questions.

“No! That’s protection for the dress from your influence!” I explain.

And indeed it is at work as Jack presses on the combination of thong, pad and clitoris. I lay my hand on his crotch. He is not quite erect yet so I give his cock some incentive. I love the feeling of the phallus as it is developing. As it engorges I can feel the ridges become defined, the girth widen and the shaft becomes well, a shaft. It excites me. It makes me want to climb on him and screw the daylights out of him.

But the ride to The Fairmont is short, and Sam’s eyes are in the mirror not on the road, so no intense carnal activities for him to report to his colleagues. Jack asks him to pull short of the hotel about a block.

“I have to relax,” he explains.

As he does so, I straighten up my dress and re-button the jacket.

“Ok, I think I’m ready,” Jack reports.

The limo pulls into the circle and I grab Jack’s crotch through his pants and furiously rub his somewhat flaccid member reversing its descent. Both Sam and I start laughing as Jack rolls into a ball. My door opens and I offer my hand to the doorman who assists me out. Jack stays behind to tip Sam and try to re-calm himself. When he emerges slightly bent, he gives me a dirty look and a grin all at once. He holds my hand and we enter the hotel.

The lobby is too magnificent to describe, royal maybe. Like the Hermitage in St. Petersburg (Leningrad). The room is gorgeous with a king bed Urfa Escort on a pedestal, walls of pastel browns and darker grays, white wainscoting and molding. The window was a couple floors up and to the south of the flags on the facade. We looked out at San Francisco in the distance and Pacific-Union Club across the street.

“You dismissed the driver?” I ask. “Are we having dinner out?”

“Yes, but we’ll take the cable car, just down there on the corner,” Jack responds.

I remove the pad and freshen up. We leave the room settled for later and hop the cable car at California and Powell. We make our way to the Russian Hill district and a restaurant called Il Fratelli. The ride over is severely cold but Jack tries to warm me by cuddling as we sit on the outer seats above the running board.

The restaurant is intimate, dark and warm. I can remove my jacket. We have a table for two with a portabottiglie di candela in the middle. This is not a swank ristorante but fun. I have the Linguine alle vongole. Jack has a saute of clams and mussels. Both come with a generous amount of garlic. Since it will only be us tonight we won’t offend anyone. We order a glass each of White Bordeaux.

As we eat Jack asks about how I’m doing in San Francisco.

“Oh, I’m lonely and cold, except when you or Tom comes around. I intended to see what is available here for me but the good-looking, corporate climbers are all gay. This week in the financial district I saw two gorgeous young fellows in business suits, perfect hair and carrying briefcases and holding hands. It is all very normal. My prospects seem minimal.”

Jack looks at me seriously. “I’m engaged.”

I freeze. These words have impact. I feel a piercing in my heart. I realize my mouth is open and close it. I can feel my face flushing. My stomach turns. A million things run through my mind.


1. Jack and I are having an affair not a marriage. It is fun, exciting and illicit.

2. Jack knows I see another man who believes we are exclusive.

3. I just told him I was looking for a relationship with someone here in SF.

4. I’ve never indicated I wanted a commitment. Nor do I ever really want a commitment from him.

5. My emotions are silly. I just want what someone else has until I have it.


1. How come Jack didn’t ask me?! I’m worth it and maybe there’s a chance we could make it work.

2. He’s mine. I have gone way over the line with him.

3. I have invested much time and risked discovery to be with him.

4. I think I love him. I’m crushed.

“Look,” Jack says. “It isn’t over between us. I still want us to continue.”

“Of course you do,” I think to myself.

I compose myself and restart my dinner. But really I feel like tossing the Linguini on him.

“Yes, please don’t stop our thing. Who is she? Will she make you happy?”

“She is the daughter of a family friend and client. It is almost an arranged marriage but I have been seeing her for a long time. She is beautiful and strawberry blond. We live together now.”

Many things start to make sense to me about my visits to see Jack in LA.

“Ok, congratulations then. Please, no more about it tonight. You focus on me,” I order.

Why should I be jealous? Since my affair with Jack started I have not been exclusive with anyone. This is the time in my life for sowing wild oats. It has not been only Tom and Jack:

-There was the fling with an accounting school classmate.

-A lawyer who was very desperate to have me.

-Another consultant with a white corvette rag top and a long open road.

-Before all of these it was a threesome (see First Night).

This is a dangerous age for a single career woman. Between 25 and 30 it is a time for sexual exploration and experimentation. I love men and their bodies. Their cocks, their butts, their backs and thighs are all very alluring. The more sophisticated they are the easier it is to conquer me. Strangely though, when I fantasize, it is usually of a woman taking me.

We finish dinner and take a cab back to the hotel. We talk as we always have of music, Ronald Reagan and the crazy world in general. AIDS leads the news these days but we don’t worry, after all, we’re not gay men, IV drug users or Haitian.

In the room he opens a bottle of Port. It is very sweet like a dessert. I sit in the guest chair sipping the port. Jack kneels in front of me and runs his hands up the side of either leg. He reaches under the dress and pulls the thong slowly off. He winds the bit of fabric past my pumps. Then he undoes the tie that Urfa Escort Bayan wraps the blue dress and pulls it open. He pulls me by the neck to him. We make a lush, deep French kiss. I stand and let the dress fall off into the chair. He buries his face into my pussy. His nose is forested by long but trimmed black hair. He starts to wind his tongue just off the most sensitive part of me. I can’t resist pumping my hips as a powerful surge fills my loins. Jack grips my bottom and his fingers press deep between my cheeks and forces my pussy into him. I hold tightly to his head as I fill up with ecstasy and spill over the edge. A mighty baying rolls out of my throat as I peak and crash. I cannot stand any longer. I fall back into the chair and momentarily wiggle uncontrollably.

“Strip!” I command breathlessly.

He removes the gray uniform and I watch. He is youthful and trim with a swimmer’s body. But now I realize I never liked his feet. They are long and scrawny. His cock however, is perfect. It is a little wider, a little longer than most. Just the right proportions to fit me with a bit more for pressing the pleasure envelop.

I kneel in front of him. My head is at cock level. Jack however prefers I not perform oral sex that I love on him. I don’t question it. I do though think with the right sort of coercion I could get him to relent. So I softly kiss and pet all around his erection. My cheek caresses it length. I expect him to capitulate and ask for fellatio. But no, after a number of minutes in the vicinity he makes no such demand or request. Oh well, his loss.

I stand and tell him to lay face down on the bed. He does. I lose the pumps and step onto the bed then stand on his back and massage him with my feet. He loves it but it is hard for me to keep my balance. I am able to crack his spine and release whatever tension was built up there. I step to his butt and again massage. After making him relax I kneel next to his body. The bed is plush with a very thick pillow top.

I slap his bottom very hard and say, “You dork! You should have told me from the start. Learning this now hurts me.”

“Owwwa,” He responds. “Your right, I just didn’t know if it would bother you. I want you to be in my life. I was afraid you’d leave me.”

I pinch his bottom very hard and elicit another ouch response.

“I should just go.”

“No. You know how I feel about you. We can make this work for you and me.”


I reach between his legs and under his hips. I feel his cock, magnificent and rigid, pointing towards his belly button. I wrestle it to point towards his feet. This is somewhat uncomfortable for him I’m sure but it exposes the head and much of the shaft between his legs. I lightly stroke his frenulum. This gets an immediate reaction. Jack turns his hips slightly and raises his knee to make it more comfortable. I wrap my hand around the whole plump penis and pump. With my other hand I feel his really nice bottom. I run my hand between the bed and the dent in the side of his butt. It is so firm and he is not even flexing. I caress with my fingertips the crack and tickle his anus. With the cock hand I just place his little head between my thumb and forefinger and give it a light pinch and slight motion.

“Are you sure you want me to cum now?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “You’re good for another later, right?”

At that, his body spasms and he lets out a big oh. Soon he is spurting. I try to capture what I can to protect the beautiful sheets. I giggle with delight. Jack gives another ohhhh and relaxes. He rolls completely on his side with his back to me to get comfortable. I let go of his penis and it springs back. I exit the bed to clean me up.

Upon my return we lie facing each other and chat.

Me: “Do you think you love her?”

Him: “Yes”

Me: “When is the wedding?”

Him: “In a couple of weeks.”

Me: “Am I invited?”

Him: “Aaaah..”

Me: “Never mind, I don’t want to go. Will she be good for your son?”

Him: “He is her son too.”

This point surprises me. I think his boy is three or four years old.

Me: “Ok, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Do you feel guilty about us?”

Him: “Not yet.”

Me: “Ok. You think she knows about me?”

Him: “No.”


Me: “No more talking about her.”

Our conversation drifts off to something else but soon I consider it enough time. I start playing with his cock whose erection has never really subsided. He turns onto his back and I sit on him at his thighs. He hands me a condom and I make the necessary preparations. Once on, Escort Urfa I straddle his hips and aim his cock. I lower my pussy just enough for the tip to be inserted. I like to start love making this way. I am on my knees so I can shift side to side and in a circular motion. But can I keep him in me just barely while I do that? Yes I can and it is delightful. I put my hands on my knees and rotate my pelvis more. The impinging movement at the entry to my vagina is sending little arrows of pleasure through me. I could do this a very long time but after a few moments I rotate my hips and descend the shaft, literally screwing! Slowly deeper and deeper he goes. I corkscrew down until I am sitting on Jack’s hips. My Kegels squeeze involuntarily. I can feel his testicles on my perineum until he spreads his legs to let them drop away.

I imagine what it looks like from the side. His white body is sunken into the bed and my brown torso and big hair, black and unruly, is heaving to and fro. He has floppy nearly blond hair, very wide shoulders, not so muscular arms, skinny legs and feet as I described before. Both of Jack’s hands are clutching each breast otherwise my long dark nipples would trace out ellipses in the air.

He is in deep but I want to try something different. I get off my knees and straighten out my legs so that they run up along either side of his chest. My feet are by his ears. It is a Dandasana pose and Jack is my yoga mat. I can go no deeper. In fact, I place my hands on his pelvis to lift myself somewhat as Jack begins to bounce me at short intervals. My boobs gambol with equal rhythm. The thrusts yank at my clitoris. I reach for my pussy and rub it with all my fingertips. Not to hasten but to enhance.

I am on the verge and I can tell Jack is too. I shake my own clitoris frenetically then I detonate. I scream in discreet yells at the rate of his thrusts. Jack lets one long bellow as he continues the lunges. The potency of my O is probably a personal record. I can feel it in my tits! My right leg is shaking uncontrollably and seems about to cramp up. I can’t feel his cock anymore for the intensity of cumming. I continue the ride but I weaken fast. I pull my other hand support from his hips. Now I can feel him again and it may be too deep.

I fall straight sideways and Jack turns to follow. I am perpendicular to him with his penis still in. My breathing is ragged and heavy. I hold my own breasts as I shake uncontrollably and bray like a moose. I can’t see Jack’s face until he lifts my leg and pokes his head between my feet.

“Who are you really? And what were you before?” he teases. “What did you do and what did you think?”

I would groan and roll my eyes at the allusion but I’m still a roiling, jittery mess. As such he slowly pushes deeper then pulls shallow again I don’t think his erection has abated since coming to the room last night, but I just want to chat and feel his fingers on me. I also caress him from knees to chin. He seems unusually sensitive around his belly button.

In the course of things we do not make love but shower together. He massages my sudsy twat to another light orgasm, rinse, dry and dress for breakfast. I have brought a change of clothes with me, something more casual, but just as sensual I hope. Tight jeans with red high heel boots complimenting a pale yellow sleeveless midriff cotton top. The sides of the shirt are open half the length to my elbows. I will wear a pale blue denim jacket with big shoulders and various embroidery designs all over until we are seated. I tie my hair up in back to expose my slender neck. It is all very Madonna-esc except without all the bling. Those with the right angle of view can get a very nice profile of my boobs between bites of Eggs-Benedict and toast.

At breakfast we discuss everything but his engagement. He even asks the waiter to request the piano player to play “As Time Goes By” but we never hear it.

I really enjoy the chance to be naughty with Jack. I can dress sexy and innovate during sex without judgment. I will get away with this perilous liaison and I will miss it.

After breakfast Jack has the doorman hail me a cab and tells the driver to drop me at my apartment.

He kisses me and I ask, “What about us?”

“We’ll always have Paris, er, Los Angeles,” He responds understanding my reference.

We kiss again and a promise to continue our affair but of course it doesn’t continue. In the following months his trips to northern Cal stop and I move back to Sacramento. I move in again with Tom and we get engaged. I will see Jack just once 2 years, 3 months, 11 days later (but who is counting) at a meeting in Sacramento. By then I am married and 3 months pregnant. He is also still married with another child. There will be no intimate reunion, just memories that will eventually turn into fantasies, and possibly, good stories.

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