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Putting on the Ritz Ch. 01

By: monicaelwes



My incredible affair at an incredible hotel

"Walk round to the foot of the bed," he told me rather than asked.

I did as he said. 

"Just stand there and let me look at you," he went on.

I stood there naked apart from the black, lacy boyshorts. 

"For your age Monica your tits are still fucking great," he went on looking admiringly at my thirty four inch, B cup boobs. Despite having born a child, although I did not breast feed her, I am proud of my boobs. They are, for their limited size, full and round. 

"Hold them up," he ordered. I did as he said. "Now lick them."

I lifted both orbs up, bent my neck and holding his gaze I just about managed to lick the stunningly hard nipples. I had only recently told him that I could do this and now he wanted to watch me do it each time we met. As we stared at each other with me caressing and licking my breasts, I watched fascinated as his hand went to his gorgeous, big, hard cock and slowly stroked it. I have always loved watching a man play with himself and since we had been together I had revelled in watching him masturbate, often with him shooting onto my stomach, tits or face.

"Walk round to the foot of the bed," he said.

I obeyed instantly; that was part of our game. He got up and stood with his back to the window, which was to my right and slightly behind me. I glanced at him and shivered with anticipation. He had a fabulous physique and with his Mediterranean colouring and huge cock, he looked stunningly alluring, immensely sexy and so eminently fuckable that I almost broke our rules and went to touch him, but I resisted the temptation.

"Bend over and grasp the footboard."

I gripped the wrought iron footboard and bent forward.

"No further."

I leaned forward further so that my body was bent nearly ninety degrees at the waist.

"Like this?" I asked.

"Yes like that, but move your feet further apart, open your legs."

I felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet available and accessible. 'But for what?' I wondered as out of the corner of my eye I saw him moving towards me. He came very close, I could almost feel the heat from his gorgeously hard cock. He ran his fingertips across the lace of the boyshorts and the skin of my bum cheeks not covered by the intentionally skimpy garment. Most of my bum was displayed for him and momentarily I wondered if he was going to spank me, but I knew he would not as we had a rule on leaving or, more to the point, not leaving trophy marks on each other.

"Stay like that," he instructed me adding. "I have to get something."

I could not avoid turning my head to watch his firm, sculptured buttocks and lithe, strong legs as he walked out of the bedroom. He was by some margin the most erotic looking man I had ever known. He returned very quickly and said.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed, do not let go of the bed."

He stroked me, sending more shivers of anticipation and excitement through me. 

"Don't speak again until I tell you," he said.

I felt him pulling on the lace of the panties and then I felt something else on my bum and thigh. It was cold and made of metal. At first, I could not work out what it was, but then I heard a click or two and realised he must be holding a pair of scissors, large ones. The cold, steel side of them was resting on both of my cheeks presumably bridging the crease between them. He pulled on the panties again and then I heard the sound of the scissors cutting through the lace of the panties making me think as I smiled. 'Better than ripping them as he had a couple of times.' The elastic round both of my legs loosened and I felt the material that was the gusset brush against my thighs. As I felt him lift up the back of the cut panties, I worked out that he must have cut through the gusset. This made me feel enormously aroused and even more exposed and vulnerable.

We had been playing this sort of dom/sub thing on and off for a few weeks now. It was not a role-play we used every time we met, just now and then, and this happened to be one of those times.

I felt him against my bare buttocks as his hands reached round and cupped my dangling breasts. He pulled and pinched my nipples probably just a little harder than normal or when we were not playing this game. He kissed my back and ran his tongue upwards into the tangles of my ash blonde, shoulder-length hair that may well have been a tad on the long side for my forty-five years. I felt his cock trying to snuggle into the crease between my cheeks, but it was, of course, too thick for that. Nevertheless, the underneath of it rubbed right across my anal hole. Involuntarily, my legs started to close.

"Keep them open," he growled, frustratingly removing his cock from between my bum cheeks.

He gripped the slight surplus of flesh on each of my hips making me wish I worked harder in the gym or on the tennis court.

I felt him kneel and waited expectantly for the feel of his tongue on my lips. His hand slid round me and his fingers fumbled in the folds of skin before finding my clit. He rubbed that and my knees nearly buckled with the surge of raw sexual want that hurtled through me. But that was nothing like what was to follow very quickly.

His tongue did not go to my pussy, but instead licked the length of the crease in my bottom. That surprised me as he had shown only a limited inclination for any anal play to date. But this time he did and I felt his tongue pressing right on that tight, taboo hole. I could hardly believe the sensations that roared through me as the tip of it slipped inside me. He licked my arse, he slid his tongue in a little way, he rubbed my clit and pinched and pulled my nipples all at the same time. The combination of feelings was amazing. Naturally I started to cum. As always, though, he sensed that and slowed down holding me at that level just beneath an orgasm. 

I moaned and started to say. "Make me cum," but he stopped me.

"I told you not to speak until I tell you."

I stopped.

I felt his finger slide along my slit, from the front to the back several times. And then, on one sweep it did not stop. Soaked with my juices it kept going, it slithered into the crevice, found my anal hole, pressed on it and slid inside me. That hurt and I grunted and cried out.

"No, stop."

"Shut up," he muttered back wiggling his finger inside me. 

Then I felt the fingers on his other hand slipping into my pussy. I could feel them touching the other one through the thin membrane dividing those two passages.

As he finger fucked my arse and my cunt, so he licked and slurped his mouth all over both of them.

Then I did cum, then I did orgasm and then my legs did give way and we fell to the carpet his fingers still inside me.

"You can talk now Monica," he said.

*

I had met Ashiree Bashal at a charity function at the Grosvenor House Hotel, in London some four months or so ago. On of Bruce's companies had taken a table of ten at a thousand pounds a person; a huge sum I thought, but then it did include champagne and wine. 

Ashiree, a Lebanese businessman had recently become a client and Bruce and he had worked on several acquisitions. They were slowly transferring his business empire from the Middle East to Europe and America. Bruce had helped him set up his headquarters in Dublin, due to the low taxes, and as he disposed of his older construction businesses in Lebanon, Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Saudi he was acquiring new ones in electronics and digital media in the US and Europe. 

He was immensely rich, extraordinarily handsome and by some margin the sexiest man I had ever met. 

I had been married for twelve years and had strayed only once when I had a six month affair. I was certainly not promiscuous, I rarely thought of being with other men and although my marriage was somewhat rocky due to Bruce being away from home so much, the idea of another affair had not entered my head. That is until I danced with Ashiree in the Grand Room of the hotel.

I could not believe what had been happening to me all of that evening. When he looked at me across the table I was transfixed and could not drag my eyes away from him. When he smiled at me I started to melt, when he spoke to me I became like a teenager and a gibbering wreck and when we danced, all I could think of was being held like he was holding me, but with both of us naked. Nothing like that had happened to me since when I was teenager when I had such thoughts. I had no idea what was causing it other than the sheer animal magnetism I felt for him.

After the Grosvenor House a group of us, thankfully including Ashiree who was not with a partner, went on to a night club in Mayfair called Tramp. He stood close to me as we drank champagne that he had bought at two hundred pounds a bottle. Ridiculously and totally out of character I wanted to touch him, hold his hand and stroke his thick, long dark hair. As we all chatted, my heart was pounding and my pulse was racing at his closeness. And when we danced again and he held my body against his as his hand strayed up and down my back, pausing at my bra strap, I felt in danger of having an orgasm.

Bruce and I stayed at the Grosvenor House that night. Arriving back there around three and going straight to our room, I was still feeling the effects of Ashiree. Almost since first seeing him, my nipples had been hard and when we had danced at Tramp I could feel my panties becoming damp. I undressed quickly, but kept my panties on and while Bruce was in the bathroom I lay on the bed with the sheet turned back. When he returned I stared at him, hopefully invitingly, but he did nothing. He gave me a cursory kiss on the cheek, turned his back to me and was soon snoring. 

I was both too annoyed and too excited to sleep. 

My relationship with my husband had worsened over the past year or so, which had coincided with my daughter going away to university. With Bruce away on business, one week in three, I was desperately lonely and with his sex drive, with me at least, on the wane, I was also almost permanently sexually frustrated.

However, as I lay there just in my panties that once more were becoming damp, I could not get Ashiree out of my mind. The recall of my body against his, the feeling of his hand on my back, the smell of his aftershave and the look in his dark eyes as we had stared at each other all filled my mind. That led to other thoughts and soon one of my hands was cupping my breast and pinching my nipple as the other slid into my panties and found my clit. 

Silently, I gave myself the orgasm that I had invited my husband to provide, but which in my mind was being given by Ashiree Bashal.

We met again at a launch party a few weeks later, when this time he was with his wife, Esther or Esthel, I never found out which? She was a rather portly, though not unattractive woman, but one who was slightly aloof, made little small talk and seemed to be miserable. I could not see at all how Ashiree and her could be partners.

Bruce had said that Ashiree would probably be there and I admit that thought was with me as I got ready. I found myself, rather ridiculously wearing sexy, black underwear, lacy top, holdups and a low cut dress. 

Although I had masturbated a few times thinking that Ashiree was doing the most erotic things to me and I had thought about him frequently, my concentration was on sex with him and not being with him. To be truthful it was almost like out of sight, out of mind with him. This was unlike when David and I were falling in love before we had our affair. Then, unlike with Ash, I yearned to be with him and not simply to be fucked by him. With Ashiree it was completely the opposite. 

Directly I saw him at the launch, my heart started hammering and my pulses began to race. As we shook hands and he gave me a peck on both cheeks, I felt that I might faint.

"How nice to see you again Monica," he said, his dark eyes boring into mine, running up and down my body seemingly stripping away the dress so that his gaze saw my holdups and underwear.

"And you Ashiree," I mumbled.

I was sure that he must have known the effect he had on me. The glint in his eyes and the small, confident smile on his lips seemed to be saying. 'You cannot hide it from me Monica, you want me, and badly don't you?' In my mind I was screaming back. 'Yes Ashiree, yes I do.'

Again we danced and once more I had those taboo thoughts and feelings. This time, though, I had the distinct impression, although it may have been my vivid imagination that he held me tighter and his face was much closer to my ear and cheek. My hormones went into overdrive when he whispered into my ear.

"You look very lovely tonight Monica," as he pulled me a little tighter against him.

I had similar sensations when Bruce's firm entertained him and lots of other people at Henley Regatta. They do it each year, but I rarely attend. I find rowing boring and the people are so snooty, but this year, knowing he would be there I agreed to go.

It was near the end of the regatta when he came and talked to me. We were apart from the main party. He stood close, probably too close really, but I didn't care. He could have taken me in his arms and kissed me for all I cared. I knew that I was becoming obsessive about him. He was constantly in my mind and most days when Bruce was away and many when he was at home I found myself masturbating as Ashiree fucked or sucked me.

"How are you Monica?" He asked, quite pointedly I thought holding my gaze a little longer than necessary.

"I am well Ashiree and you?"

"Good thanks," he replied in his deep, velvety voice that had just a hint of an accent. It was a voice that I swear could talk the knickers off any woman, certainly this one.

We chatted about this and that, with me being oblivious to what was going on around us. 

"Are you a tennis fan Monica?" He asked.

"Yes I play two or three times a week."

"Ah that accounts for it then."

"Accounts for what?"

"This," he replied running his gaze up and down my body sending shivers through me, particularly when his eyes lingered on my chest. "You look very fit," he went on using a term of the modern young. I wondered whether he realised that.

"Thanks, but then you do too," I rather undiplomatically and somewhat flirtingly replied. 

"Well I too do my best to keep fit. I work out and swim every day, no matter where I am."

"I go to the gym a few times a week," I told him.

His eyes sparkled when he replied. "I would like to see that Monica as indeed I would you playing tennis."

He was now clearly flirting and I loved it.

"I was wondering whether you would like to watch the men's final at Wimbledon with me."

I had to think quickly. Part of me hoped he was just inviting me, but then if he were and he thought of it as anything more than a business outing then surely it would have been to somewhere less public than Wimbledon. On the other hand, if it was just business, then firstly I didn't really want to go, I lied to myself and secondly where was Bruce in all this?

"Yes, I am sure we would like to, that is if Bruce is not in the States," I replied as another shiver went through me when he put his hand on my arm as we walked towards the bar.

"No you go," Bruce said later as were driven home in the chauffeured Jaguar. 

I had told him about Ashiree's invitation and he had replied that he was travelling to LA that day.

"You and he seem to get on well and you should see Federer, Djokovic or Nadal and maybe even Andy Murray, he went on."

"You don't mind if it is just him and me?"

"No, not at all and in any case it will be good for the business," he said maybe hammering the last two nails into the coffin of our marriage.

The next day I sent Ashiree, or Ash as he had told me to call him a text.

'Unfortunately, Bruce is unable to make Wimbledon as he is travelling to LA that day, so regrettably Ash, we have to say thank you, but decline your invitation.'

It could not have been more than five minutes later when my phone pinged to tell me I had a text.

'But you are not accompanying him are you?'

'No' I text back.

'Then you watch it with me, ok?'

'Are you sure?' I text back my blood pumping faster through my veins at the idea of being with him alone, well apart from fifteen thousand other spectators.

'Of course.'

'Then thank you,' I text with fingers that were shaking so much that I could hardly work my iPhone.

'Monica, it is all my pleasure. I will have a car collect you at twelve on Sunday.'

*

Bruce left for Heathrow around nine leaving me with three hours to get ready. As I bathed I was wondering just what I was getting ready for? I told myself not to be ridiculous and that he and maybe his miserable wife as well would be looking at this as purely business entertaining. In any case I had no idea how many other guests would be joining us here.

Despite my pretty strong conviction that any 'action' between him and me was all in my mind, I dressed carefully, with black underwear of the type that some called 'underwear to be undressed in.' As I still had a tan from ten days in Florida in mid-June and as the weather was pleasant I did not wear stockings or tights. Knowing that Wimbledon men's final's day was dressy, on top, I wore a Stella McCartney suit that may well have been slightly too tight all round. The white jacket with some blue piping on the two small pockets and the collar, came to just beneath my waist. It was double-breasted with two rows of four, large, fifty pence piece size, blue buttons down the front. The blue pencil skirt matched the buttons and the piping. That too was tight and was stretched across my bum and round my hips. The hem was just above my knees and I wore blue, strappy heels on my bare feet with the pink painted nails. I felt good.

With Bruce being a successful businessman and with my fairly substantial inheritances, we lived a reasonably upscale lifestyle. I was, therefore, quite used to chauffeur driven cars and visiting nice places. However, that was not on the scale that Ashiree was used to and that he quickly began to show me.

Dead on twelve a Rolls Royce pulled into our driveway. I was surprised when Ashiree was not in it, but the driver told me that he was taking me to his hotel. About thirty-five minutes or so later we pulled up outside the Ritz in Piccadilly. As we did, a guy came to the car and opened the door.

"Hello Missus Elwes," he said in classic, public school English. "I am Ian, Mister Bashal's assistant. Ashiree awaits you for lunch, please follow me."

I was now becoming confused as I thought we would go straight to Wimbledon. I could not work out why I was following this guy or why I was supposed to be having lunch with Ash at the Ritz, as I had assumed we would have it at Wimbledon.

I was surprised when Ian led me to the elevators as I knew from eating there many times that the restaurants were on the ground floor. We were whizzed up to the fourth floor and along a deeply pile carpeted corridor to a pair of double doors that had a sign stating The Prince of Wales Suite. Ian opened the door and stood back to let me pass. Although quite used to hotels and their opulence, it took my breath away. It was huge with a massive balcony overlooking Green Park. The furnishings and decoration were tasteful and elegant and there seemed to be rooms everywhere. I stood looking out of the widow for a moment or two.

"Monica, I am so happy you are here," I heard Ashiree say as he came up behind me.

I turned and looked at him and once more my heart started crashing so hard against my ribcage that I was sure he would hear it. He was wearing dark blue, formal trousers and a brilliantly white shirt with no tie, he looked gorgeous. Just looking at him excited me. He was handsome, well-built and radiated so much sheer animalistic sex appeal that it should be banned. I decided there and then that women were not safe around him and as he took my hand and kissed me on both cheeks I could metaphorically feel my knickers sliding down and off. I was gaining sensations and feelings from him the like of which I had never before experienced.


Putting on the Ritz Ch. 01



"That will be all thank you Ian," he said adding with a big smile at me. "I will look after Missus Elwes and her every need." 

Ian left us and I was alone with Ash for the first time and in a hotel room, well actually a bloody great suite. That gave me goose bumps.

"Thank you for inviting us, well me," I blabbered feeling totally out of my depth and out of control.

"It is and will be all my pleasure, I assure you" Ash replied.

We chatted for a while exchanging such pleasantries as our health, my journey in to Mayfair and the results at Wimbledon so far. He asked if I would like some Champagne telling me that he had some Cristal on ice. As he was walking into the kitchen area of the massive apartment I remarked at how lovely it was and he told me that he always stays in it when in London. I cringed thinking how much it would cost.

"We pay a retainer so that it is always made available for me," he explained. I didn't bother asking how that worked, though I made a mental note to look up the rates when I got home. I had drifted a bit thinking about my knickers coming down and how much the suite must cost, but his rich, sexy voice brought me back to my senses. Well not actually to my senses for every time I heard him speak little shivers that got stronger each time, ran through my entire body. "It's more for the view," he said. 

Then, placing his hand on the small of my back that my now sex addled mind recorded was right between my bra strap and the waist of my panties he said. "Come," and of course it is not hard to guess what that said to my sexually fertile mind.

As the feelings from his hand on my back, roared through my body, he led me over to the floor to ceiling, French windows that were open. He stood slightly behind me as we looked out over Green Park. 

Purposefully tantalisingly, teasingly or simply forgetfully leaving his hand on my back I imagined, I think, that his fingertips were pressing and almost caressing me. I wanted to lean backwards and feel him against me or have him slide his hand downwards and cup the cheeks of bottom, but of course I did nothing other than say how lovely was the view.

Somewhat spoiling my reveries he asked.

"And how is Bruce?"

"Oh he's fine."

"On his way to LA isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

"He travels a great deal," he went on.

His hand was still on my back and the pressure from his fingers was feeling more obvious now. I reconciled in my mind that this must mean something for surely he could so easily have moved it away. 'Shit, he wants to touch me' I thought, my mind racing as what I had theoretically lusted for since meeting him seemed to move a stage nearer.

"Yes he does, too much," I replied sharply, half wanting to push myself back against his hand and half wanting to escape. This was crazy and getting worse. 'Was he just playing me?' I asked myself.

"Yes I tell him that too. Like there was no need to go to LA today."

"Really?"

"Yes I have someone out there who could have handled the business perfectly adequately."

"He has gone on your business?" I asked now feeling confused.

"Yes, but only a small deal."

"And you knew he was going?" I asked turning towards him noting that his hand slipped down and now rested on my hip.

"Yes."

"What, when you asked us to Wimbledon?" I babbled on feeling partly annoyed at being manipulated, partly excited at what that implied and partly scared of what might now be going to happen.

"Yes of course Monica," he said quietly looking me right in the eye and now quite obviously squeezing my hip as he added. "But I did not actually ask both of you to Wimbledon."

I was amazed at how this was coming out. Amazed, perplexed, slightly annoyed, but enormously aroused.

"What, did you mean just me to go there with you?"

"Yes, but not to Wimbledon. I asked if you would like to watch the final with me and I meant on this," he said pointing to a large plasma on the wall.

He laughed and edged his hand down a little.

"But why?"

"You must know why?" he responded moving slightly nearer to me.

Of course I did know why, but I did not dare acknowledge that to myself let alone him.

"You must feel it Monica, as I do. You must sense it as I do."

'Oh god stop, please, for fuck's sake stop,' I said to myself as his words washed over me and his hand slid round my waist a little further.

"You must see how we look at each other, how we can't drag our eyes away, how we cannot bear to look away."

'Stop it, shut up,' I said to myself or thought I did.

"You know you don't mean that Monica, you know you mean quite the opposite," he said as his hand slid right the way round my waist and he pulled me to him.

"No Ashiree, no, I do mean it."

"I can't Monica, I simply cannot stop," he said putting his other arm round me as well.

"You must, we must," I groaned, probably with little conviction.

"No Monica, we have to go on, we have to go further and have what we both want so badly," he said pointedly pulling me so that our stomachs pressed together. He was hard and he was big.

"Oh Ash," I groaned as his mouth hovered over mine.

"Say yes Monica, say you will."

"I can't I mustn't."

"You can Monica and you must," he said pressing his erection more firmly against me.

It felt so good and made me grunt with want.

"Ashiree this is madness."

"No Monica it is perfectly sane. I can tell that you want me. I saw it that first time at the Grosvenor. Tell me I am wrong."

I didn't reply I couldn't; speech was probably beyond me.

"And I wanted you. When we danced I wanted to fuck you on the dance floor,"

"No, no, no."

"And when we finished I wanted to lay you on the table, push your dress up, take your panties down and suck you until I made you cum. Don't even try telling me that you have not thought of me doing that."

"No Ash, I haven't," I lied as his basic, but in my state almost poetic words filled my mind. No one had ever spoken to me like that before and I would have thought I would find it vulgar. I didn't. In fact I found it so attractive, persuasive and total appropriate to the situation that I wanted more and felt like joining in by saying. 'I have dreamt of holding your cock and having it fuck my cunt.'

He took hold of my head and turned it so I was looking directly into his eyes as he whispered.

"Tell me Monica, you have imagined us together, you have thought of me naked, you have imagined holding this," he said as he pushed his erection harder against my pubic bone, making me grunt and sending shock-waves of sexual need through me.

"You have thought of us both naked haven't you Monica?"

I didn't reply, I couldn't.

His mouth came close to mine and I knew that soon we would kiss.

"You have haven't you Monica you have thought of being naked in my arms, of me being inside you, admit it Monica you have visualised me fucking you haven't you?"

I could hardly think. My mind had gone blank other than to realise just how well he had read me. He had described most of the visualisations I had about him and me. His erotic words delivered by his velvety voice, as his gorgeous face was so close to mine and my stomach was pressed so firmly against his cock that seemed to grow by the moment, made for a heady mix of sensations. I felt as though I was in a trance. I lost the ability to think in a rational way or to behave how a, relatively, happily married forty something mother should conduct herself. Nothing seemed to matter other than Ash, his body, my need and sex. Sex and sexual gratification seemed to be at the heart of everything. 

He kissed me. Right on the lips, with his mouth open and his tongue out. It was a rough kiss and rather half-heartedly I tried to stop him, but he knew that was not what I wanted.

"Tell me Monica, you want me don't you? You want us to fuck and all you are worried about are the stupid social conditionings. Forget them. You are like me, I saw it immediately we met, you are a sexual adventurer just as I am."

"Oh no, Ash, please stop," I moaned. Of course he didn't and truth be known I did not want him to.

"Forget Bruce and forget Esthel, it is just us, just what we need to have. And that is each other," he said as both of his hands grasped the cheeks of my bum. It felt so good. "No one will ever know Monica, just you and me."

"Oh god Ash," I sighed involuntarily sucking on his bottom lip and writhing myself against his gorgeous hard on, before pushing him away, a little.

"Yes Monica, come with me, give into it. Give into what you want, what your body and mind needs. What you most desire," he said rubbing his erection against me sending even more rushes of desire through my body. He went on crashing his words into my mind "Forget the conventions, people like us are beyond them, they don't apply to us. All we require is pleasure and sexual satisfaction. I know it as well as you do, just admit it Monica, just let go and come with me."

He kissed me again and once more I fought him off, but rather more half-heartedly this time. 

I could not get my mind round what he meant about us being alike, about conventions not applying to people like us and us being sexual adventurers. He was putting into words fantasies I had often thought of and, indeed, had started writing a story about.  

One of his hands found my breast. Before I could object or do anything about, he was squeezing it and pinching my nipple. It was becoming too late to stop. The sensations he was sending through me were simply too intense, too extreme and too fucking lovely for me to resist. 

I kissed him back and then groaned partly in frustration at how easily I was giving in and partly with excitement as his hand slid up the back of my skirt. My arms gripped him harder and as my hands and fingers found the tightness of his back and shoulders I moaned to myself at how wonderful his body felt. I had an almost irresistible urge to see it, run my hands over it and kiss and lick it. I knew that soon, when he was naked I would see that his body indeed was simply perfect.

His hand was on the back of my legs just under the hem of my skirt. He was pressing against where I had them tightly closed trying to get between them. I kept them closed, but now when he kissed me I did not resist. Our tongues clashed and duelled as I felt his hand creep further up the back of my legs. His other hand had somehow got inside my jacket and was squeezing my breast outside the black, lacy Perla bra.

I knew that I was going and that my resistance was waning. The combination of the enormous lust I had built up for him over the past few months, being alone with him, the words and phrases he was using to seduce me and his hands up my skirt and in my jacket were simply too much to resist.

"I have wanted you from the moment I saw you Monica, you know that don't you?" He asked oddly, I thought removing his hand from my jacket that, looking down I saw was open all the way down the front. I surprised myself as I had not noticed him doing that. "And I have seen in your eyes that you want me Monica. Isn't that the case?" He asked as I felt both his hands on the hem of my skirt. He was pulling the pencil skirt up my legs and I felt powerless to stop him. "Isn't it Monica, isn't it? You want me don't you Monica?" He went on and then stopped speaking for a few moments as so confidently he rolled the tight skirt up until it was mid-way between my knees and my bottom.

I groaned. "Oh God Ash."

I had never experienced a physical or verbal seduction like it. He continued with both.

"Tell me Monica, give in to what you want, tell me Monica, say it, say it."

"Say what Ash what do you want me so say?" I muttered as his hands holding my skirt reached my bottom.

"Tel me Monica, tell me you want me, please say it Monica, just say it."

"Oh Ash, yes, yes I do," I groaned slightly pissed off at how fully and seemingly easily he had got me to this state less than half hour after being alone with him in his suite.

He yanked on the skirt. It slid over my bottom and the five hundred pounds skirt was bunched round my waist.

"Do what Monica, what do you want me to do?" He asked gripping the bare cheeks of my bum.

"Sex Ash," I groaned as both my mind and body totally capitulated to this amazing man.

He ran his hands all over my bottom, flicked the slither of ridiculously flimsy and equally ridiculously expensive lace of the Perla thong then tried to slip his fingers between my legs. The fleshiness of my thighs stopped him, but he maintained the pressure. I did not move for a moment or two hoping in a way that my will power might return. I groaned with inward disappointment as without thought or consideration I opened them. With no further hesitation his fingers slid along the soaked, silky gusset sending tremors through the so sensitive lips of my pussy just beneath the surface. 

"What sex Monica, tell me what you want us to do?"

Now I really was gone. I had no resistance, no desire to stop him and, I realised with a jolt, I had no inhibitions left.

"I want us to have sex Ash, I want you to fuck me."

Not only did me saying those words seem to send him into a frenzy, but they also drove any lingering inhibitions I held about what we were doing away from me. 

He moaned.

"Oh Monica you sexy, fucking woman, yes I will fuck you and fuck you like you have never been fucked before. That's what you need and want isn't it?"

I believed him and grunted. "Yes Ash, yes I do."

He pushed my bra up and off my breasts so they were bare and available to him. He sucked one of my quite prominent nipples into his mouth and pushed me backwards so that my bum was pressed against a round table in the middle of the room. Reaching down he got hold of my leg just above my knee and lifted me; I guessed what he wanted to do so I put my hand on the table and helped him lift me so that my bottom was on the edge of it.

With my nipple still in his mouth he fumbled in the folds of the skirt bunched round my waist. At the same time my need to see and feel him became greater. I pushed his face from my tits and frantically, it felt, started clumsily undoing the buttons on his shirt. Between us we got that off and I gasped with delight, admiration and sheer lust when I saw his toned chest. It was slightly hairy, just as I like a man's torso to be and each muscle was defined, though not bulky like a body builder. He was absolutely gorgeous. I ran my hands over it sighing and whimpering as my fingertips seemed to be getting a series of electric shocks. I kissed his breasts and nibbled gently on each nipple before whispering something I had never before said to a man

"You are beautiful Ash."

"But nothing compared to your beauty," he grunted back as he pulled me against him squashing my tits against his wonderful chest

We kissed again. This time our urgency was even greater and it became more of a slurping of our lips together than a kiss, but it was just right for the circumstances.

His hands found the elastic of the waist band of my thong and started pulling on it. However, with my bottom flat against the table he could hardly move it so I lifted myself up. With no further ceremony or discussion he pulled the thong down so that it was almost round my knees. Pushing me back so I was nearly laying on the table, he roughly yanked my skirt up and pushed my legs open.

"Oh Monica you have a beautiful cunt," he said running his fingers along the lips. 

Just as I had not told anyone that he was beautiful before so no man had ever told me that I had a beautiful cunt. Somehow the use of that mostly vulgar word seemed absolutely perfect in the circumstances. The compliment made me feel good as did the way he was staring at and running his fingers up and down its soaked length. Grabbing my ankles he lifted them up and slid the thong off and dropped it on the carpet. So much for me wearing underwear to be undressed in; my bra was round my neck and my panties had been removed and discarded without him hardly looking at me in them. 

Now I had seen his upper body I wanted more, I wanted to see all of him, feel and touch him and have his nakedness up against me. And of course in my heightened state of sexual arousal I wanted to see and feel his cock. My hand reached out for him and I grasped it through the thin material of his trousers. It felt good.

"Yes Monica take it, it's yours," he said as between us we fumbled his belt undone and got his zip down. He shrugged the trousers off and I saw with a strange excitement that he was not wearing underpants. With an even greater, and certainly not strange excitement, at last I saw the cock in reality as opposed to the many times I had seen and held it in my fantasies. If anything it was bigger and better, it was quite the most delicious looking cock I had ever seen. Taking it my hand, I looked into his eyes and said smiling.

"Oh Ash you have a beautiful cock."

He was one of those rare men that could accept compliments graciously and without appearing arrogant. 'Probably' I thought because they were true and he was used to hearing them. He grinned.

"So we are both beautiful there," he replied adding. "And you are here too," as he once more sucked my nipple into his mouth.

I put my arm round his shoulders trying to pull him more firmly onto my breast. It felt so full and heavy, it was hot and tingling and my horrendously swollen nipples were aching to be sucked and chewed. Ash wriggled his way between my legs that rather crudely he pushed wide open.

"Now Monica I am going to fuck you," He grunted.

"Yes Ash," I grunted back as he put one arm round me with his hand on my bare bum and held his cock with the other. 

"You have no fear of disease Monica as I am checked weekly and I know you are clean, so we do not need to bother ourselves with protection," he said slightly haughtily, but nevertheless sensibly. I was relieved.

There was little further delay or foreplay. Quickly the bulbous head of his cock was pushed against me and then with a shrug of his hips it was roaring up my insides. It was bigger and thicker than any other cock that had been in me. It stretched me and gave me the feeling of being filled to over flowing. That was so different and so exciting.

He now had both arms round me holding my buttocks with his hands that were pulling me more tightly onto him. Without thinking I wrapped my legs round his waist and my arms round his neck. We kissed and then he started to fuck me properly. 

He was right; I had never been fucked like this before. Whether it was his girth, the way I was so stretched, the long agonising build up over several months or simply the almost ferocious way he slammed himself in and almost out of me, I have no idea, but quickly I was near to a climax. The sensations were so strong and so extreme that my orgasm started after hardly more than half a dozen or so thrusts. I was moaning, groaning, sighing and whimpering as Ash held me tight and slowed down. That made the rising fury of my orgasm abate a little and he held me there as he squeezed my breasts. He did that several more times so that my mind and body were held just under the peak of an orgasm for what seemed an age. It was the most gorgeous set of feelings I could recall having with sex.

As I languished in that delectable state so we kissed each other on the mouth and chests and caressed and fondled each other, sighing and groaning with the pleasure we were giving and receiving. 

At one time, he as good as removed himself from me leaving just the bulbous head between my lips. We both looked down and he said.

"Stroke it Monica."

I did as he asked. Feeling my wetness on his hardness and hearing the sharp intake of breath as I ran my fingernails along the side of his cock emboldened me. Running my fingers along the bottom of it I found and cradled his balls in my hand; I love the feel of that. Extending my forefinger I reached between his legs and gently scratched that patch of skin between the back of his scrotum and his bum, his perineum.




Putting on the Ritz Ch. 01



"Oh yes Monica, yes, yes, yes," he moaned.

He also reached down between us and rubbed my clit as his tongue flittered across each of my nipples, as if I needed any more stimulation. Then, without any warning, he pushed forward surging his cock up me as far as it would go. He held it there a moment or two and then fucked me hard and fast for a short while. That did it. That put me over the top and I cried out in ecstasy as the most tremendous orgasm crashed through my mind and body.

Impaled fully on his amazing prick I fell backwards so that my back was flat on the table and my legs were round his waist. He lifted my bottom up a little and held himself rigid and still as I shuddered and convulsed my way through what was surely the strongest orgasm I had experienced.

I lay there still, but with little jerks of my body as the subsiding climax gave me those 'aftershocks' of pleasure and delight.

He pulled out of me and I looked up. He was still hard. I realised with a combination of disappointment that I had not made him cum, but also with excitement that he was ready to fuck me again whenever I wanted. And to be absolutely truthful that was as soon as we could do it.

"You were fucking amazing Monica," he said kissing me.

I kissed him back and whispered. "And you were amazing fucking Ash."

"I want you again."

"Of course, now?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I want to feel you cum," I told him, struggling my bra and jacket off as I stood up. I fumbled my skirt down.

"What are you doing?" He asked sounding alarmed.

"Taking it off, it will be ruined left crumpled up round my waist," I told him worrying about how it would look later when I went home.

"Don't worry I will send out for more clothes."

"No this will be ok if I hang it up for a while," I told him standing naked before him.

"We can get the hotel to sort it out, a butler comes with the suite."

"Very impressive," I said smiling as I looked at his still full erection.

"Yes and it needs attention," he replied crushing me to him and kissing me. It felt gorgeous squashing into my stomach. "You ready?" He asked.

"As I will ever be," I told him.

"Then turn round Monica."

I did as he said.

"Put your forearms on the table and lean forward."

Again I did as he said and then had the thrill of him pressing his lovely cock against my pussy from behind, rubbing it up and down my slit a few times and then surging into me. Alternating his body positioning between folding himself round me and cupping and squeezing my breasts and standing upright and holding my hips, he fucked me hard and fast. There was little finesse or variation from him sliding deeply in me, then nearly out and then back in so deep I felt his balls smack against my leg.

"Oh god, Ash," I moaned as once more he took me towards an orgasm, but slowed down a little and held me just beneath its peak. How the hell he did that I had no idea.

"I told you I would fuck you as you have never been fucked before," he growled. "I was right wasn't I?"

"Yes, yes Ash you were right."

"Is it good, you dirty fucking bitch."

"Yes, yes it is," I moaned reaching behind with my hands to feel him. 

"Come on Monica, go for it, come over the top," he said renewing his vigorous thrusts in and out of me. At the same time I felt his finger pressing against my anus. I did not object or say no so he pushed a little harder until it slipped in the hole and up me a little way.

"Oh yes, fuck it yes," I moaned as once more a massive orgasm erupted in my mind and body.

"I'm cumming, you have done me Monica," he moaned as his cock went rigid inside me as it delivered its goods.

He collapsed on top of my back kissing and licking my shoulders and neck.

"Was it good for you Monica?" He asked after a few moments.

"Yes Ash it was, it was wonderful," I sighed loving the way he stayed inside me and held me until the last tremors of my climax stopped. That was so unlike my husband whose ardour seems to evaporate as quickly as he cums. Ash was so different. He held me, caressed and kissed me, whispered in my ear how fantastic it had been and how fantastic I was. It was lovely.

At last he slid out of me and we disentangled ourselves. Standing and turning to face him I saw that his erection was subsiding, but had not gone completely. 

He took me in his arms and we kissed.

"Thank you Monica, that was marvellous," he said.

"I think it should me be thanking you Ash, I have never had anything like it."

"Good I am pleased, let's have some more champagne to celebrate," he said kissing me and taking my hand and leading me towards the open French window. "Wait here, I will get it," he went on leaving me standing a few feet back from the window. Returning with two flutes and the bottle he handed me a glass and put the bottle on the table where we had just had sex. He put his arm round me and eased me forward towards the doors.

"Ash, we can't go out there someone will see," I said panicking a bit imagining our photos in the tabloids.

He laughed. "No, that's not for now you sexy imp."

"What do you mean?"

"It's for later."

"Yes later, this evening or some other time when it's dark I will fuck you out there. Maybe in the rain."

We chatted for a bit and he ordered lunch, cold salmon and salad to be delivered to the room. "It will be here in twenty minutes or so the butler has a kitchen on this floor."

"Very nice," I said still standing just inside the window as he came back and slid his arm round me. 

Unlike my husband and even David, my six-month lover, Ash seemed to be extremely comfortable with his flaccid nudity. 'But then,' I thought 'when a man is hung like him so he should be.' His relaxed comfort was transmitted to me and I felt great and at ease with my nakedness as well.

"Why don't you have a bath or shower Monica as we wait for lunch and then you will be ready for spending the afternoon in bed?"

"Hey what about Wimbledon?" I laughed.

"We can watch it over lunch and then from the bed."

As it happens we did have the TV on as Federer fought it out with Nadal, but the sound was turned down and I did not get to watch much of the match. That did not bother me too much as I had far more interesting things to look at. We spent the afternoon and evening in bed having sex and talking. Both were amazing and hugely interesting.

He spent ages making extreme and lengthy oral love to me. His patience and consideration for me and my pleasure was unlike anything I had experienced before. He attended to my bottom as well as my vagina and of course my breasts and nipples, which he loved at length.

I, of course, returned his oral favours, but did not make him cum. I wanted to and would have, but he stopped me.

"No Monica, as men age, it becomes harder to keep ejaculating and I do not yet want to waste one by not being in you. Later, another time, I will and it will be incredible. 

We had full sex twice more that afternoon and evening. I tried hard to recall the last time I had been fucked three times in a session, but failed. 

He had fantastic stamina for a man approaching fifty. It was not that alone, though, that set him so far apart from both Bruce and David. It was his ability to get an erection and then keep that for such a long time that was the key difference. I remember one time particularly during the afternoon, when we had been giving each other oral and caressing the other's body for what seemed ages. He had made me cum with both his tongue and his fingers. So aroused had he made me and so much pleasure was he giving me that I had lost my sense of time. 

Both dressed in the beautiful, dark blue fluffy robes supplied by the hotel, we had finished the delicious cold salmon washed down with white wine and watched the match for a while; I noticed that the first set had just ended. He took me to the main bedroom, the suite had three, and we lay on the huge bed. We then had the really extended foreplay during which he was continually erect. He then had me in the missionary position giving me two more orgasms and eventually cumming himself. After helping me 'come down to earth' from the shatteringly good climax and we were laying in each other's arms he clicked the TV on. I was amazed to see that Federer was three two up in the third set and wondered just where the time had gone.

With the air conditioning working well it got a little chilly so we got under the thin duvet and cuddled up together.

"Ash what did you mean by us being sexual adventurers?" I asked.

"Some people are different to most Monica and we are two of those."

"How do you mean?"

"We see sex as being something more than most do."

"I don't follow."

"You lusted for me from when we first met, didn't you?"

I did not really want to admit that was true, but said. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"Just as I did for you. The moment I saw you, I wanted you and the moment you looked at me I knew we would have each other."

"Yes, but how does that make us er, what did you call it?"

"Sexual adventurers?"

"Yes."

"Had you ever felt like that before?"

"No, never. Have you?"

"Yes twice."

"What happened?" I asked feeling a little jealous. "Was it like that with Esthel?"

"No not at all, she is my wife, the mother of my children and not an adventurer at all. It was with other women. Women like you with special something."

"Do you still see them?"

"Don't ask."

"Why not?"

"It is not love Monica. It is different, more powerful, but less enduring than love."

"What is it then?"

"It's sexual magnetism and attraction that makes for a sexual adventurer."

"So why end."

"Because the adventure ends or there are no more adventures to take on.",

I wasn't sure that I followed all of what he was saying, but later in the conversation and after we had made love or, more accurately had sex for third time as I waited for his Rolls to collect me, we talked more about it and it began to make sense, of a sort.

His thesis was that some people, special people, could transcend love and enjoy sex as, in his view it was intended. That was as a pure pleasure, a hedonistic delight something that was done purely for enjoyment. He said that when a person is able to divorce pleasure from other needs and emotions such as faithfulness, reputation, conventions and all the, as he put it, 'social brainwashing bullshit,' then they are able to devote parts of their life simply to gaining pleasure from sex. 

"And when they reach that state," he had gone on idly stroking my bare breast as we lay in bed after Federer had won. "That is when they seek and find more experiences and then Monica, they become sexual adventurers."

It started coming together in a way, but more significantly it increased in attractiveness.

"What like Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour?" I asked mentioning one of my favourite film actresses.

"Yes exactly like that. She was a rich and successful woman with an ideal life style where she loved her husband, but wanted more. Hence, she joined a brothel in the afternoons purely to gain more pleasure. A bit extreme maybe, but along the lines of my beliefs."

We didn't talk any more about it that evening as we both wanted more sex so, we fucked facing each other.