I had only intended to stop at the bar for a drink on the way home that Friday. Well, you know what Huxley said about good intentions; Hell isn’t merely paved with good intentions, it is walled and roofed with them as well.
I’d merely settled myself at the bar and ordered my neat scotch when Jorg sauntered up. I didn’t know that was his name then, but it wasn’t long until I did.
‘A lady drinking scotch; you’ve gotta be a lawyer, CEO or something like that!’ He winked at me.
‘Not quite that flash. Just a District Manager.’
‘Sexy all the same. Care for some company?’
‘Well, I’m not staying long, but sure.’ I replied.
He smiled and nodded before he ordered a whiskey of his own.
‘So, Stranger, what’s your name.’ I asked just before imbibing the remaining dribble of double malt from my scotch glass.
‘Jorg Browne. From down south; if the drawl didn’t give it away. In town on business; only the business is on Monday and I’m here already,’ he said with a grin and a wink. ‘So I’m just going to have to enjoy myself for the weekend. Got something planned for yourself?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing? A pretty thing like you has nothing and nobody to spend a weekend with?’ He said in mock disbelief.
I sighed. ‘I have a heap of figures to go over before the end of the financial year. I’ll probably get stuck into them.’
‘Wha? Nah. That’s a crappy way to spend a weekend!’
‘Come have dinner with me at least. I’ve got no idea what’s edible around here.’ He said before sucking the last remnant of his whiskey through the clinking ice cubes. ‘I’m heading off now; open invitation.’
I thought for a bit; what the hell. It is Friday after all. I smiled and nodded at Jorg, then grabbed my jacket.
‘Atta girl.’ He grinned. ‘So, who around here serves real food?’
I took him to Franco’s Ristorante, a nice Italian place a few blocks from the bar. They serve the best gnocchi in town. As we ate, we discussed our childhoods, reminisced about the cartoons we remembered watching and how the stuff kids watch today has no merit in comparison.
A good feed, two bottles of red wine pendik escort and three hours later, Franco geared up to kick us out by starting to sweep the floor. We decided to retain our dignity and left before he got to us with his broom.
We stumbled down the stairs and out onto the street. My feet were killing and with all the booze, straight walking was wishful thinking. It was a good thing I had Jorg there to hold me up.
He had is arm around my waist and was nuzzling my hair. I could feel myself tingling from the alcohol and affection.
It had been a while. I’d simply been too busy to bother with this stuff since my promotion. In all honesty, it was the “quiet season” now and I had time to catch my breath a little. ‘Stuff it!’ I thought to myself. ‘Time for some fun!’
I hailed the first cab heading in the right direction and jumped in.
‘Well,’ I said to Jorge whilst holding the door open, ‘I’m heading home. It’s up to you where you wake up.’
He took the hint and hopped in beside me. I gave the cabbie my address and turned to Jorg with a cheshire grin.
I’m not sure what I was going to say, but there was no hope of saying it anyway. Jorg locked his lips onto mine and we spent the ride to my apartment in deep embrace.
Jorg’s hand slipped under my skirt and rubbed me through my stockings and panties. I was already quite aroused.
The cabbie deposited us at my apartment building and much to our dismay we found the elevator was out of order. Thankfully I was only one floor up. Taking Jorg’s hand I scooted us down the hallway to the fire escape.
‘Ooh, spooky and dark…’ Jorg quipped as we started up the stairs.
‘It is a little. We’ll be to my floor soon enough.’
‘We might be. We wouldn’t want someone to ruin it by, say, grabbing you in here first.’ He said as he embraced me halfway up the stairs.
I giggled as he sat me down halfway up the flight and ducked his head under my skirt.
I could feel the roughness of his stubble on the inside of my thighs and then glorious sensation as he nibbled my pantied crotch with his lips.
I was quite disappointed when maltepe escort Jorg came up for air, but realised why when he began to undo my shoes. Once they were off and in my hands, he peeled my stockings off me and threw the curled nylons over the banister.
‘Oh yeah…’ I groaned as he returned to the cave under my skirt, slipped my panties aside and began to nibble my folds. ‘Mmmm…yeah. Don’t stop!’
We were rudely interrupted by the sound of one of my neighbours opening a door the floor or two up. Quickly, we rushed to our feet and fled, giggling, towards the door to my floor before we got sprung.
Deciding to not chance more foreplay in the hallway, I ushered Jorg into my apartment and straight to my bed. It was still unmade, but that mattered none. It was only going to get messed up more.
Once through the door, we dissolved into an animated embrace. We clawed at each other in passion; occasionally succeeding in relieving the other of an article of clothing.
We parted momentarily to finish disrobing. As I peeled off my panties, Jorg dropped his boxers to reveal a healthy 8 inch gunner, saluting and ready for duty.
I opened the drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a box of condoms. Well, the box. There were no condoms left.
‘Shit!’ I gasped.
‘Oh, don’t worry about those. My ex made me get the snip and I promise I’m clean.’
I bit my lip and stared into his eyes for a moment. My cunt was aching and needing release. Eventually it won me over. I tossed the box over my shoulder and pounced the hunk on my bed.
I straddled Jorg and he rubbed the glans of his cock up and down my sopping valley, combining my nectar with his precum. Pulling me in closer, he suckled my hard nipples.
‘Oh! That’s good. Don’t stop…’
Rebelling against my directive, he swiftly flipped me over onto my back and came up under my legs, propping them on his shoulders.
Rather than burying himself into me right away, he teased me by tapping his rock hard shaft on my clit a few times. Each tap was electric.
‘Fuck!’ I moaned. ‘I can’t take much more of this…’
For the second kartal escort time that night he took the hint, and in a flash he buried himself halfway into my sopping, aching cunt.
‘Fuck, you’re tight.’ He grunted.
He withdrew and thrust again, inching himself in a bit more. A few thrusts later, he was buried to the hilt and I was shrieking in pleasure.
‘Oh god, Jorg.’ I cried. ‘Fuck me, baby’
He didn’t really need any invitation as he was already doing such a wonderful job. He pounded in and out rhythmically, slowing occasionally only to speed back up; kneading my tits the whole time.
Soon I was approaching the edge. ‘Oh god! I’m going to cum!’ I announced.
Jorg’s strokes slowed; becoming unmistakingly deliberate and forceful. He was approaching his climax too and the change of tempo pushed me over.
As the ripples of my orgasm subsided, I felt Jorg explode deep within me, right at the entrance to my cervix, sending deafening aftershocks throughout my body.
He collapsed onto me, and we curled up under the bed covers.
‘That was fucking awesome.’ I nodded in agreement and embraced him deeply.
Minutes later I felt the sticky tip of his cock pressing into my stomach.
I can hardly believe that it’s already almost six months later. It’s amazing what changes in that time.
I’m starting to outgrow my clothes. There’s still some I do fit into, such as this hipster skirt and this loose knitted smock cardigan. The shape of the cardigan isn’t all that flattering and amplifies the bump that’s slowly protruding from my navel.
And what of Jorg? Never heard from him after that night.
I did see him this morning, however. He was on the front page of the paper; he has been arrested for fraud and embezzelment in Miami. Apparantly his name is really Graham. Graham Jacobsen.
Our in-house lawyer, Amy, called by the tea room as I dropped my cup of decaf.
‘Oh Bess. Are you ok?’
‘Y…yes. I think so.’ I replied, my hand gripping the paper.
Amy looked at the paper and gasped. Her hands went to her abdomen and her eyes to my bump.
It was not obvious to the casual observer, but Amy’s belly was only just beginning to swell; as mine had done three months ago.
‘Amy, you’re not? You didn’t?’ I asked, already knowing the answer.
She burst into tears. ‘He said he was snipped!’
Indeed he did.