Quickies in New York: Call Us Daddy

I finally sat down at my laptop at the end of a very long and gruelling day prepared to have a burst of productivity and Get Shit Done and then I read this…. now I have no choice but to masturbate until my clit is numb and pass out dreaming sweetly of double Daddies. 

quickienewyork:

We finally decided that she could just call us both Daddy.

It ended a lot of confusion, and now we get to play the classic good Daddy/bad Daddy game where one of is nicer than the other one. It’s often hard to tell if the nice one is fucking her mouth or spanking her, but the details aren’t the important part. The expression on her face when she turns back and forth between us is priceless. She actually drools on occasion, and she made me promise to make her a t-shirt that reads “Two Daddy’s Are Better Than One.”

If she finds it hot we find it comforting. It’s nice to have another man around the house to deal out punishment, make the ice-cream sundaes, and fuck her up the ass when we’re tired. It’s nice to know that if I’ve had a long day, he’s there to tuck her in before she gives us our goodnight blowjobs. And when she’s crying because she’s not allowed to come it’s always helpful to have someone to rely on for strength.

“You can’t come until Daddy is done,” he whispers into her ear.

“But you came twenty minutes ago,” she whines.

Which is when he reminds her that I’m still fucking her, and if she wants to have any fun she should probably squeeze her cunt tighter and stop complaining. And then he holds her hair, and I kiss her lips as her pout turns back to wonder and surprise.

And later, when she’s lying quietly between us, we smile at one another before sharing a tender kiss. We sink down into the bed, we close our eyes, and finally we sleep.

—Guy New York

I stayed up too late to fuck and read and write. I regret nothing.

I stayed up too late to fuck and read and write.

I regret nothing.

Sensory overload. <3 quickienewyork: ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#582)  The problem with equality is how easy it is to sacrifice ecstasy. The other morning I tried to please her as she tried to please me, and while both of us were pleased, it was far too easy. She wrapped her hands around me as I kissed her neck and searched between her legs. I pulled her on top of me as she rubbed me against her wet skin. We both sighed and moaned, but our breathing was slow and our eyes were open. And then suddenly she covered my head with her shirt and I paused. She wrapped it tightly around my eyes, and in my moment of wonder everything changed. She pushed my hands to my sides, and for the first time all morning I felt her skin against me. I relaxed my feet, and stopped struggling. I closed my eyes and gave in. Then it was her hair on my skin. Her fingertips touched my lips and scraped down my neck to my chest. Once I stopped, I could feel the head of my cock rubbing against her, and her teasing was painful and glorious all at the same time. It was a constant struggle to keep still, but the more I gave in the stronger it became. When she touched my cock I nearly jumped off the bed. She rubbed her thumb over the head, and my hips bucked against my will. My muscles shook, and I could feel her breath. She wrapped one hand around me as the other slowly circled, and she pressed her fist hard against my body, pushing down against my pelvic bone. For a moment I wasn’t sure if it was her tongue touching me, but when her lips closed I screamed out in laughter. Where did that come from? I didn’t have time to think as my body trembled. She moved so slowly, that every emotion rose from the base of my spine, through my stomach and chest, until they came out through my lips in sighs, giggles, and tears. Her tongue made me cry, her fingers gasp, and when she pressed me against her chest I was madly in love with everything. Her speed increased, and she pressed down on my chest with one hand. My heart pushed against it, and the muscles in my legs began to convulse. Her fist began to move up and down my shaft, tightening at the base, and barely touching me at the top. I found my breath was gone, and all I could see was red. I bit my lip as everything pushed down into my thighs, and the tears poured down my face. I clenched my ass, pushed into her hand, and turned my head trying to escape. My fists were clenched so tightly my palms were screaming in pain. And then suddenly my tears became laughter and everything let go. My legs twitched, my hips bucked, and I came for a hundred years. I arched my back, my chin reaching up towards the sky as everything spilled from my body, and I couldn’t control a thing. I laughed and groaned, and she never once stopped. Even once my body was drained the spasms shot through me. Even as she held me, whispering her own amazement, my muscles released over and over again until finally I could once again open my eyes. “You should let me do that more often,” she said as she pulled the shirt from my head and kissed my tears. “I’m not sure I’d survive it.” “I don’t know how you could live without.” I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her face, and thought about absolutely nothing at all.   —Guy New York (If you enjoy my writing, you might like my new novel, The Island on The Edge of Normal, now available on Kindle and in Print.)

Sensory overload. <3

quickienewyork:

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#582)

 The problem with equality is how easy it is to sacrifice ecstasy.

The other morning I tried to please her as she tried to please me, and while both of us were pleased, it was far too easy. She wrapped her hands around me as I kissed her neck and searched between her legs. I pulled her on top of me as she rubbed me against her wet skin. We both sighed and moaned, but our breathing was slow and our eyes were open.

And then suddenly she covered my head with her shirt and I paused. She wrapped it tightly around my eyes, and in my moment of wonder everything changed. She pushed my hands to my sides, and for the first time all morning I felt her skin against me. I relaxed my feet, and stopped struggling. I closed my eyes and gave in.

Then it was her hair on my skin. Her fingertips touched my lips and scraped down my neck to my chest. Once I stopped, I could feel the head of my cock rubbing against her, and her teasing was painful and glorious all at the same time. It was a constant struggle to keep still, but the more I gave in the stronger it became.

When she touched my cock I nearly jumped off the bed. She rubbed her thumb over the head, and my hips bucked against my will. My muscles shook, and I could feel her breath. She wrapped one hand around me as the other slowly circled, and she pressed her fist hard against my body, pushing down against my pelvic bone. For a moment I wasn’t sure if it was her tongue touching me, but when her lips closed I screamed out in laughter.

Where did that come from?

I didn’t have time to think as my body trembled. She moved so slowly, that every emotion rose from the base of my spine, through my stomach and chest, until they came out through my lips in sighs, giggles, and tears. Her tongue made me cry, her fingers gasp, and when she pressed me against her chest I was madly in love with everything.

Her speed increased, and she pressed down on my chest with one hand. My heart pushed against it, and the muscles in my legs began to convulse. Her fist began to move up and down my shaft, tightening at the base, and barely touching me at the top. I found my breath was gone, and all I could see was red. I bit my lip as everything pushed down into my thighs, and the tears poured down my face. I clenched my ass, pushed into her hand, and turned my head trying to escape. My fists were clenched so tightly my palms were screaming in pain.

And then suddenly my tears became laughter and everything let go. My legs twitched, my hips bucked, and I came for a hundred years. I arched my back, my chin reaching up towards the sky as everything spilled from my body, and I couldn’t control a thing. I laughed and groaned, and she never once stopped.

Even once my body was drained the spasms shot through me. Even as she held me, whispering her own amazement, my muscles released over and over again until finally I could once again open my eyes.

“You should let me do that more often,” she said as she pulled the shirt from my head and kissed my tears.

“I’m not sure I’d survive it.”

“I don’t know how you could live without.”

I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her face, and thought about absolutely nothing at all.

 

—Guy New York

(If you enjoy my writing, you might like my new novel, The Island on The Edge of Normal, now available on Kindle and in Print.)

Look what came in the mail today!!! Tonight&#8217;s plan; finish reading Lolita so I can start The Island on the Edge of Normal by my favourite teller of smutty and intimate tales, Guy New York. 

Look what came in the mail today!!!

Tonight’s plan; finish reading Lolita so I can start The Island on the Edge of Normal by my favourite teller of smutty and intimate tales, Guy New York. 

(Source: herdirtylittleheart)

I&#8217;m just gonna put this here because it reminds me of a few very good memories and I think I might need to read it again later&#8230;. while my hands are in my panties. &lt;3 quickienewyork: ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#564) It took her a few minutes to realize I was actually going to tell him everything. In fact, it wasn’t until I told him that she likes to cry when she sucks my cock because it makes her feel twelve did she get nervous. She looked up at me with a question in her eye, but I patted her on the head and smiled in return. “She gets embarrassed when I tell people what she likes,” I told him as I opened her mouth with two fingers. “But it’s a vicious cycle because the more embarrassed she becomes the wetter she gets. It’s quite a challenge because if she gets too turned on she forgets to be shy.” “What else does she like?” he asked as I pushed her mouth down around his cock. She choked for just a minute, but soon she was moving her head and looking up at me begging me not to say more. “She likes to be fucked up the ass when’s the most bratty, but when she’s quiet I fuck her from behind as I bury her face into a pillow. Sometimes I tell her how much tighter her sister is and she whines and promises to try harder. She wants me to get angry enough to hurt her, but in the end she always needs forgiveness.” “And how is she feeling now?” he asked as he thrust all the way into her throat, holding her there for a long moment. I finally pulled her off his cock by the hair and tilted her head back. “How do you feel, babygirl?” “I’ve been good, you’re just being mean to me,” she whined. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I nodded my head as I threw her onto the bed. She hardly struggled when I positioned her on her knees in front of me, her cunt and ass directly in his line of sight. He moved closer as I held her still, and she refused to look at me. By the time he was buried inside her ass she was coming around him. I held her chin tightly in one hand as my other moved up and down my cock, but it wasn’t until she began to cry that my own orgasm began. Her tears ran down her cheeks as she try to get me into her mouth, and I brushed her hair from her eyes. Finally I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Good girl,” I whispered as he collapsed on top of her. “Such a good girl.”

I’m just gonna put this here because it reminds me of a few very good memories and I think I might need to read it again later…. while my hands are in my panties. <3

quickienewyork:

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#564)

It took her a few minutes to realize I was actually going to tell him everything.

In fact, it wasn’t until I told him that she likes to cry when she sucks my cock because it makes her feel twelve did she get nervous. She looked up at me with a question in her eye, but I patted her on the head and smiled in return.

“She gets embarrassed when I tell people what she likes,” I told him as I opened her mouth with two fingers. “But it’s a vicious cycle because the more embarrassed she becomes the wetter she gets. It’s quite a challenge because if she gets too turned on she forgets to be shy.”

“What else does she like?” he asked as I pushed her mouth down around his cock. She choked for just a minute, but soon she was moving her head and looking up at me begging me not to say more.

“She likes to be fucked up the ass when’s the most bratty, but when she’s quiet I fuck her from behind as I bury her face into a pillow. Sometimes I tell her how much tighter her sister is and she whines and promises to try harder. She wants me to get angry enough to hurt her, but in the end she always needs forgiveness.”

“And how is she feeling now?” he asked as he thrust all the way into her throat, holding her there for a long moment. I finally pulled her off his cock by the hair and tilted her head back.

“How do you feel, babygirl?”

“I’ve been good, you’re just being mean to me,” she whined.

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I nodded my head as I threw her onto the bed. She hardly struggled when I positioned her on her knees in front of me, her cunt and ass directly in his line of sight. He moved closer as I held her still, and she refused to look at me.

By the time he was buried inside her ass she was coming around him. I held her chin tightly in one hand as my other moved up and down my cock, but it wasn’t until she began to cry that my own orgasm began. Her tears ran down her cheeks as she try to get me into her mouth, and I brushed her hair from her eyes. Finally I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“Good girl,” I whispered as he collapsed on top of her. “Such a good girl.”

Current status: Tea and daydreaming. &lt;3 quickienewyork: ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#562) She was sitting on the bed wearing nothing but a silk tie wrapped around both wrists. Her hands were behind her back and her chin was up. Her chest was rising and falling with short quick breaths and her lipstick was smudged just enough. I turned the music up so loudly that I couldn’t hear her, and I closed my eyes as I undid my belt. I leaned back just enough as my hand slipped into my pants. And I remembered. I remembered the first time I slapped her face, and I recalled our first kiss. I remembered her crying as I told her she was almost enough; she came for me so gently I had to press my ear to her lips to hear her moans. I thought about her begging and pleading when I took her ass, and I thought about how pretty her eyes get when she’s lost in need. My hand moved faster as each memory surged through my body, but it wasn’t until I was close to the edge that I went to her. She laughed with joy as I pulled her head back by her hair, and she opened her mouth in relief. As I came I remembered the first time she used my name when she told me she loved me.

Current status: Tea and daydreaming. <3

quickienewyork: ©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#562)

She was sitting on the bed wearing nothing but a silk tie wrapped around both wrists.

Her hands were behind her back and her chin was up. Her chest was rising and falling with short quick breaths and her lipstick was smudged just enough. I turned the music up so loudly that I couldn’t hear her, and I closed my eyes as I undid my belt. I leaned back just enough as my hand slipped into my pants. And I remembered.

I remembered the first time I slapped her face, and I recalled our first kiss. I remembered her crying as I told her she was almost enough; she came for me so gently I had to press my ear to her lips to hear her moans. I thought about her begging and pleading when I took her ass, and I thought about how pretty her eyes get when she’s lost in need.

My hand moved faster as each memory surged through my body, but it wasn’t until I was close to the edge that I went to her. She laughed with joy as I pulled her head back by her hair, and she opened her mouth in relief.

As I came I remembered the first time she used my name when she told me she loved me.

Tags | QNY | Guy New York | erotica | sexy | belt | unf | hands | memory |
Quickies in New York: Her Ass

Ohhhhh fuck. Here I was trying to find inspiration for my next orgasm and… well… success Guy New York. Success.

quickienewyork:

I wanted her ass.

I also wanted everything that came with it, and I don’t mean her heart and her mind. I mean I wanted the pain, the degradation, and shame. I wanted her to struggle and scream as I fucked her, and it was the first time my desire overcame my guilt.

She knew it too. She may even…

Quickies in New York: Pouts and Moans

Sigh. How rare is it for a smut writer to speak straight to your heart? <3

quickienewyork:

She says yes with her eyes.

It helps that I’ve heard it with her voice and read it in her words before. It helps that I know her submission is a gift and her body belongs as much to me as it does to the rest of the universe. It helps that her eyes are wide and expressive, and it helps that I’ve learned how to listen.

When I ask her if she’s been a good girl she knows that I’m giving her a choice. She knows what to say if she needs to be held and comforted, and she knows what to say if she needs to feel my hand on her skin. She pauses every time, and I don’t think she ever knows how she’ll respond until the words leave her mouth. I never do.

When she wants me to go fast and slow, when she wants me to move between anger and love, she tells me she doesn’t know. She tells me that she tries to be good but it’s ever so hard. I move between an open palm and a soft caress. I fuck her and make love, and she can laugh and cry at the same time. I hold her tightly as she pouts and moans, and she comes when I tell her it’s okay. 

When she wants me to stop she holds me and doesn’t let go.

Guy New York

"I’ve asked every girl I know and while it may be easier to Facebook, text, or e-mail, real men make phone calls. It’s a sign of the times—for better or for worse— and there is nothing to be done about it. We pick up the phone to show we have balls, and even if we leave an awkward voicemail it’s better than a fucking tweet."
—

From Hana: Polyamory and Erotica in New York City. (via quickienewyork)

This made me giggle. My husband was embarrassed when he first started talking to Sunny because he has an aversion to computers and sitting at desks and typing and skyping and all things tech. He sheepishly asked me if Sunny would think he was crazy if he called her instead. On the phone. To talk. I tried to explain how endearing this was, he thought it made him seem old and dated. This quote by Guy New York (who knows quite a bit about being a gentleman) sums up exactly why my husband is my kind of man. (And Sunny’s too… apparently.) -herdirtylittleheart

Quickies in New York: Like In The Pictures

This Saturday has been perfect.

And now it’s time for tea and tumblr.

And this is beautiful.

quickienewyork:

“How come you don’t sit naked in the window drinking coffee while you watch the snow fall? Like in the pictures.”

“How come you don’t drink scotch in a suit and tie while sitting on a leather chair with your big cock hanging out? You know. Like in the pictures.”

We stared at each other from…

Quickies in New York: Needing To Be Used

Fucking marry me Guy New York.

quickienewyork:

“I need to be used tonight.”

It was a fairly clear message, but still I needed more. Her moods were known to vary, and her words had many meanings.

“Explain,” I wrote back.

“Lost. Gone. Fucked up and down. Blind. Sore. Unable to say no.”

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Three cocks.”

That was a new…

Quickies in New York: Slutwalk, Guy Culture, and Ending Violence

How fitting. Bravo, as usual, to Guy New York. xo

quickienewyork:

Slutwalk was easy.

Chanting was easy, meeting up with old friends was easy, and showing my support and solidarity was easy. When I stepped out of Union Square and grabbed a drink at Lillie’s after the march, the hard part started.

Ending rape culture means changing guy culture. It means telling…

Quickies in New York: Nearly Fucking

Holy fuck. That’s all I have to say about this saucy tale from my number one writers crush Guy New York.

quickienewyork:

When we woke up our bodies were intertwined and we were nearly fucking.

“Did you start this?” she asked with sleepy eyes.

“I thought you did,” I said, as I pulled her leg over me and rubbed the head of my cock against her lips. She kissed my forehead and pulled me closer. I could tell we were…

Quickies in New York: What To Do

I kind of had a conversation like this yesterday. I love Guy New York. Sigh.

quickienewyork:

I can’t tell her what to do unless I know what she wants.

I can’t tell her to stand perfectly still without moving a muscle unless I know that anticipation drives her crazy. I can’t hold her hands above her head unless I know that she wants to struggle, and I won’t raise a hand to any part of…

Quickies in New York: Breaking The Rule

This made me ache. I can relate. Fucking rules. Mother fucking rules.

quickienewyork:

“I don’t know what to do,” she said to me over the phone.

“What do you want?” I asked.

There was a long silence that I was too afraid to break. I couldn’t make up my mind one way or the other, so my advice would be useless. We had a rule, and she was thinking of breaking it. Sure, she called to…

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