by Carrie
It was a long grueling day at the office, but I finally settled our overseas distribution terms by giving up some of what I wanted to people who wanted everything I wanted with an addendum that next time I’d be getting all I wanted.
I walked out of my office building and was instantly smothered by the heat and humidity. The air burned and the only thing that kept me going was that it was worse to stand still.
I was hoofing it because my driver, Benny, took my Benz to get the A/C slightly adjusted; now they had to keep the whole car over night. He called with a replacement and I said. “I’m walking home. I don’t trust you anymore.” He’s been with me six years, so he’s heard that before.
I was wearing a strapless von Furstenberg twist front dress, sandals and nothing else. No panties. No bra. If the temperature drastically dropped I was finished. Somehow the heat and the threat of a shower brought in a strong wind and at certain intersections, especially 58th and Madison, it was like stepping into a whirlwind.
The big gush finally came and it blew my dress way up and gave everyone the thrill of the day. I’ve recently gone against the trend of pussy shaving so my bush was in full bloom for everyone to see. I smiled back at my admirers to show them I was a good sport. I kept my hands at my side the rest of the way along with that smile.
It had been a week and a half since my whipping and was I feeling very good — you know where. I also had a feeling that I might be ready to get spanked again. I got a pass last week because I was whipped. I was hoping I might get another week off.
To investigate that possibility further I casually brought the subject up to Miss Keener by simply asking her if I should keep an evening open. She said she’d look into it. I hinted that I wasn’t sore. She said she’d take that into consideration. I wanted to know if she was going to spank me or should I visit Mr. Farrelli after work, but I didn’t want to push the matter. So I dropped it for now.
I entered my building, said hello to the doormen. The one whom I’ve been having an affair with gave me that look which meant he had some good pot. He knew about Trevor and I had explained to him that Trevor was more into other things than sex so that I was very much available.
The doorman then showed me his watch which meant he was going on his dinner break.
It had been a long day and though I was hot and sticky I could use some nice pot. No one was looking so I slipped down the stairway with him. We found a place to hide where the big pipes are. He lit up and passed me the joint more often than I asked.
The hit came big and I felt as if my soul had dropped out of me with a thud. I was floating in a lovely mind numbing place. The joint fell out of my hand. I leaned back on the big pipe by the wall and shut my eyes. I was no longer in the world but somewhere far away. He gave me more than pot but I didn’t care. He put his lips to mine which did what it were told and we kissed for an eternity. I finally came up for air, “Does your wife have any idea?”
I thought he said no, but he could have said anything. I wasn’t processing anything well unless it was sensual. I said in a slow drippy flow, “She’d be very angry at me.” We continued kissing when I heard him say, “No panties?”
He was a few steps ahead of me. “I was too hot. I was…” My mind drifted away with his hands up my sides caressing and feeling me. “I like that.” I opened my eyes. “You’re so good to me.”
He didn’t even bother to take off my dress. He just lifted it up and gently folded back my legs. Each sandal fell off. I had a moment of clarity, if you could call it that, and said, “I’m not a slut,” with eyes that couldn’t see anything, but the ceiling which was definitely spinning. He said, “I’m in love with you. How could you be a slut?” That was so nice. I hugged him.
I stared into his eyes and saw love, warmth, more love, and nothing else in this world. I was no longer me. I was some slippery mess of warm emotions that were getting hotter. I told him in a slow willowy dreamy way that sounded more lyrical than fact, “I really, really want you to fuck me here.” If he was looking at me, I didn’t see him. If he heard me he didn’t answer. If there was more that I said, I don’t remember.
I didn’t matter. He knew my pussy well and he knew just how too slip what he wanted in. A little push, a slight lift up and in it went, a perfect fit. I leaned back, shut my eyes and was never going to come back ever again to this miserable world. I was only going to fuck.
He fucked me for the whole hour. I came several times, no big rushes, just sudden bumps along the dreamy and stoned way. I was unusually quiet but then that was the dope. Only when I came did I moan, but it was muffled as I barely lifted myself off the pipe. I’d squeeze my face into his as if it were choked by the orgasm, and expel: Oh fuck me, then drift back out without a worry if we should be caught.
When he was done with me I wanted to sleep with him at my side. I didn’t want to let go but I had not choice; the hour was up. God did it go fast. I was draped on the pipe, dress up and exposed. My eyelids in limbo. He lifted me off the pipe and gave me a nice warm shake and adjusted my dress. I didn’t want to go.
He stared at me that I wasn’t being fair to him. He took me back up the stairs and by the door, slightly opened, we kissed, or I made him kiss me and said, “I wasn’t protected.” I was dripping and it was on the floor. He moved his shoe over it and turned his toe back and forth then sent me off. I asked, “When?” But he had to go. Five minutes later I got a text message with a kiss. Maybe I had been unfair. I texted back, “Tomorrow same time?”
I checked the box that confirmed that the staff may whip me again. Then I had a meeting to go to.
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 165
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
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