by Nella Tyler
My professional kitchen would often be the first thing to draw the women into a conversation. Their hands would run along the smooth granite and their eyes widened at the sight of my floor to ceiling walk-in refrigerator. One person couldn’t consume enough food for such a large fridge, but it was always stocked with the random necessities that any woman who came by might want to try. Strawberries, yogurt, champagne, vegetables, and many other female friendly foods were always available. Women love a man who eats healthy, so I stocked it with colorful foods that enticed them and made me look like a health nut.
As much as I hated to let a woman actually stay overnight, it did happen every now and then. I had found that the best way to get them going in the morning was to feed them and rush them out the door. On the special occasion that I might want to see the woman again, I would let her sit to eat her meal. If I didn’t want to see her again, I tried to give her some grab and go foods as I hurried off to work.
As Mary, or Martha, stood in front of me, I could see she wanted more. She wasn’t satisfied to have given me head; this girl wanted the fun to continue. I didn’t answer her question about how I enjoyed the oral sex she had given; instead, I just bent her over the bed.
I reached over and grabbed a condom from my drawer and slid it on with a quick ease that I had gained through my many encounters. The best way to keep a girl from talking is to make her scream.
Girls loved to be fucked. They longed for it and most of them never had a magnificent fucking in all of their life. They spent their time looking for the man they would marry instead of a man that could fuck them unconscious.
I didn't always fuck them until they passed out, but man oh man did I love to hear them scream with pleasure. There was something primal about the way a woman screamed when she orgasmed—there was nothing like it in the world.
Mary Martha grabbed my black satin sheets as I slid into her. I started off slow, just to get a feel for her and how she would react. My hands held tight to her delicate hips and I pressed hard into her.
“Oh God, Evan. Yes, just like that,” she moaned.
I kind of wished I remember her name. A twinge of guilt hit me as she called out my name, but I couldn’t remember hers.
My thrusts continued long and hard and she stopped talking. Instead, she was consumed by moans of pleasure as her body enjoyed my deep motions. I grabbed her hair again and pulled her body up. The leverage was nice and I put my other hand on her shoulder to ensure I could press her body tight against mine.
“Harder,” she screamed out.
Oh, how I loved it when they said that. It was like an invitation to plow into them with all my force. It was a girl saying she liked a little rough thrusting to help get her to the orgasm of her lifetime. I happily obliged the command.
My hands held onto her hair and shoulder and I plowed my cock into her as hard as I could humanly thrust. Her moans were deep and primal and soon I felt her body start to stiffen up. I let out the last couple thrusts just in time to see her entire body tighten up as she was rocked by an intense orgasm.
Her legs started to shake as she collapsed onto the bed. I gave her a couple gently thrusts and then pulled out of her. A quick stop at the bathroom and I climbed into bed next to her. I could tell she was exhausted and wouldn’t be able to walk anytime soon. I guessed Mary Martha would have to spend the night. I didn’t mind, I was exhausted myself and would be asleep in only a matter of minutes.
Chapter Two
I dreaded the morning game. The girl never liked the idea of a one night stand and perpetually wanted to try and make things last. Sometimes I was into them and would string them along for a couple of dates, but typically the one night was all we would have together. I just couldn’t get past the sex and move into the part of a relationship where I had to pretend to like the things she did. It bored me and wasted my time—both things I hated.
Mary Martha would only be a one-nighter. I couldn’t waste my time with someone who didn’t give good head. Although she certainly was delicious to look at while she had her mouth wrapped around me.
I was up early and showered by the time she started to stir. I made her some oatmeal and threw some blueberries on there for her. The coffee was hot and I had a large assortment of creams and syrups she could add. It was only a matter of time before she would get the hint that we were eating and then leaving—both of us in separate directions.
“Good morning,” she said sweetly as she got up.
“Hope you slept well.”
“Yes, unusually well. What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock,” I answered as I gathered my things and loaded my briefcase.
My morning ritual included packing my briefcase, putting my clothes on, putting my shoes on and then finally my tie. As I went from one task to the next, I would happily make small talk with her, but just a little so she had time to eat her food.
They always got the hint that it was time to get moving, this one was no different. She finished her oatmeal and grabbed her things from the bedroom. She was a sweet girl and I knew she would find her prince charming soon enough. I certainly wasn’t him. My charms were relegated to the bedroom and that was about all I could handle of most women.
“Are you taking a cab into work? I’ll split it with you,” she said as she looked at me with longing in her eyes.
“Sorry, I usually walk to work. I’ll get an Uber for you, though,” I said as I punched in my address in my Uber app.
The driver would be there in less than five minutes, so we headed down to the lobby. The elevator ride down was not nearly as erotic as the one on the way up. Perhaps the light of day changed the feeling of the elevator, or maybe it was the lack of emotions from me after we had just spent the night together.
“It was great meeting you, call me,” Mary Martha said.
I looked down at the paper she handed me—Margaret 212-555-5514. Oh, I was horrible with names. It amazed me just how quick I had forgotten her name when we first met. She said her name and within a minute I had no idea at all who she was or what she was doing at Edwards last night when I picked her up.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart. You're beautiful. Don’t ever forget that.”
The least I could do was try to build up a girl’s ego if I was never going to call them. It worked well as a way to ease the tension and uncomfortable feelings as we said our goodbyes. The morning after goodbyes was always the worse. You didn’t know whether to kiss them or push them into their Uber car as fast as possible.
As she got into the car, I leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. Kissing on the mouth was too intimate unless I was in the middle of fucking a girl. The morning goodbye kiss had to be on the cheek. It was distant enough that she didn’t get her hopes up and personal enough that she wasn’t offended.
When she had safely entered the car, I turned and walked around the corner to my gym. I hated that I had to put my suit on before going to the gym, but it was just harder to get the women out the door if they thought I was just heading to the gym. When they thought I had work to get to, it was much easier to get them out the door.
The gym was my comfort zone and I sometimes went there twice a day. My morning routine consisted of a quick 30 to 60-minute jog while I watched all the latest market news. There was no reason I needed to sit at my desk and get up to date on the news when I could be more productive and get my workout in at the same time.
My evening workouts were typically reserved for weight training and strengthening exercises. I liked to take my time and concentrate on one group of muscles per day. It was a part of my ritual to relax after a long day—well, unless I planned to head to Edward’s after work and have a drink with a few guys from work.
I tried to keep my visits to the bar limited to two or three times a week. Otherwise, I was just too exhausted to keep up with the trending market changes. It was essential that I kept a sharp mind and didn’t forget important information; lack of sleep could change my func
tioning for the day very quickly. I needed at least six hours of sleep every night.
The stock market was a finicky place. If you missed one small piece of information, you could throw off your entire portfolio. Luckily, I hardly missed any important information and I was skilled at gathering what I needed to make the trades that would work best for me and my clients.
Over the last eight years, I had skyrocketed to the top of my trading firm and earned myself some pretty lucrative incentives. At Taylor Trading Incorporated, I started as a floor trader and worked nearly 100 hours a week. Now I was a market advisor and didn’t have to work nearly as many hours, but had dozens of people who worked with me and developed new and trending techniques for building wealth in the stock market.
It sounded harder than it was. Basically, my job was to buy a stock that went up and sell stock before it went down. The simplicity of my job was actually very hard to explain to others, though.
“Hey,” a delicious blonde on the treadmill next to me said.
“How’s your morning?”
“Great. You watching the All Warren Clothing IPO?” she asked.
I wasn’t actually paying much attention to it; clothing companies just weren’t my thing. But I did know enough about it to keep the company on my radar. Alicia Warren grew up in Illinois, same as I did. She started her clothing line from her college dorm room and built it up into a multi-million dollar company. It would likely make quite a few people rich after the IPO was released in a couple weeks.
I loved IPO’s, or initial public offerings. It was essential to understanding the business you were buying stock in and it was necessary to do as much research as possible before throwing thousands of your dollars away. Some IPO’s were dangerously overpriced and saw the initial investment decline rapidly with the market changes.
“Yeah, not too closely, though. What do you think?”
The joy of living and working out so close to the stock exchange was that almost anyone I ran into wanted to talk about stocks.
“I think it’s a grower for sure. I’m investing several thousand dollars of my own money, not so much for my clients, though. The clients always want minimal risk for their rewards.”
“Very true.”
She was a cute blonde, and if I had met her in the bar I would have started strong with my womanizer game. But meeting at the gym made things a lot harder. It was much more likely that she would be back at the gym at the same time as me, so I didn’t want to contaminate my sanctuary.
I actually liked the term, womanizer. It had a ton of respect, but better than any other way to describe what it was that I liked to do with my women. One night stand guy, man whore, and many other colorful words had all been used to describe me at one point or another.
We both continued our treadmill workouts and I could tell she wanted me to ask her out. She looked over at me several times throughout her run and often even turned enough to make eye contact with me. I had to resist, though, as fun as it would have been to play with her and her giant breasts; I couldn’t start prowling around my gym. I liked the place way too much and didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for me after I slept with someone from there.
I felt my cock start to get hard as I watched the blonde run on the treadmill. Her breasts were firm, yet still bounced with delight as her feet kept a steady pace. My cock started to throb with a need to slide in between her giant knockers. I loved the feeling of a pair of big tits as they pressed around my cock. I especially loved to watch a woman’s mouth as I thrust my cock closer and closer to her.
When my cock had become fully erect, it was time for me to take a break and head back to the locker room. I made my way toward the men’s locker room area and just as I was about to walk into the door, I felt a hand on my arm. I turned and saw the blonde from the treadmill.
She had finally gathered enough courage to come and give me her number. It was sweet. But I wasn’t about to use it.
“If you’d ever like to talk about the market over drinks, give me a call,” the blonde with big tits said.
“Sure thing, thanks, sweetheart,” I took the piece of paper from her and made my way into the locker room.
The phone number went straight into the garbage; I couldn’t be trusted not to call her in a moment of weakness. It would be much safer for my gym going habits if I never had long-term possession of the number at all.
One time I had fallen for one of the gym managers; it was like torture to workout at all at their facility. She had left the gym for another one so I finally felt comfortable coming in every day. The problem I had was that I still kept my eyes peeled and was constantly ready to hop the next hot chick. Although I had learned my lesson and wouldn’t be bringing home any girls from the gym.
Part of my daily routine meant I bought a smoothie at the fitness club bar and then made my way into work. I hated all the chaos of my office in the morning and would much prefer to do my research from the comfort of my own home instead of the hundreds of computer terminals at work. There were just too many people around; things didn’t seem as comfortable as they previously had been.
But as I moved up in my company, I had to start being more visible around the office. Being available to other brokers was going to be the key when I wanted to continue to move up the corporate ladder.
Plus, I did like the excitement of the live trading much more than trading over a computer. There was nothing like the New York Stock Exchange. Nothing in the world could compare to the adrenaline rush I got whenever I walked onto the trading room floor. It was better than sex, or at least different than sex. On the trading room floor I felt excited for hours and hours; in the bedroom the excitement only lasted as long as my orgasm did.
Chapter Three
“You don’t need to spend your morning in the gym. If you spent your night fucking, it's redundant,” Michael, my co-worker, and friend said as I walked in the door to our office.
“Running clears my head for the day.”
“So you did bring her home, didn’t you? That hot brunette from the bar just came back with you? No questions asked?”
Michael and I had been friends for over ten years. We attended Harvard together and he also grew up in the Midwest. Our friendship worked because we were opposites. Michael and his wife Caterina were a few of my only true friends. They knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. They gave me advice and consistently tried to fix me up with ‘nice’ girls; which I, of course, would fuck and then move on from.
“Yes and no,” I said with a smile.
“What?”
“Yes I brought her home, but no, she had plenty of questions.”
I smiled and continued to get ready for the trading day. I had my ritual of booting up my computer, getting my coffee, and grabbing the Wall Street Journal. I loved my rituals both in the office and in the bedroom. There was something so comforting about rituals.
“How do you do it? I had to ask my wife out three times before she said yes,” Michael joked as he came into my office and sat across from me.
Monday mornings were the busiest days of the week; it always baffled me how much Michael wanted to talk. It was one of the reasons my portfolio consistently outperformed his; I hated to talk to people. Granted, there were people that I didn’t mind having a conversation with, but overall I despised idle chit chat. There were so many other things I could be doing with my time besides talking about the latest celebrity or gossiping about office romances.
I guessed that I was the topic of many secret gossip sessions in the office. I had taken a few of the young trainee’s home for a night of fun between the sheets and everyone liked to talk about my sexual escapades. People didn’t really know much about me, they just knew that the ladies loved me and always came back from a night extremely satisfied.
Trainees were often only in our area of the company for four to six weeks, which made them the perfect young ladies for me to get to know. Their wide-eyed enthusiasm for the stock trading busines
s was like a drug to me and I had a hard time keeping myself under control. Typically the trainee’s were mostly men, but every session there were at least three or four women in the group.
Yes, it was against policy for a midlevel broker like me to fraternize with the young newly graduated trainees. But the technicality of fraternizing was overlooked throughout our firm. Most of us, both men and women, didn’t have much of a life outside of work. The pool of available partners was often confined to the people we interacted with on a daily basis at work; especially since we often worked from sun up to sun down.
“When they say no, I move on. There’s always another that will say yes,” I said to Michael. He was very happily married though and didn’t need my advice on how to pick up women.
“The hard to get ones are much more fun, though. They’ll give you a run for it and make life ten times more exciting.”
“Mike, I don’t have time to play the Hard to Get game,” I laughed as I signaled for him to get going. “I just want the girls who need a good hard sausage and explosive orgasms.”
One of the reasons Mike and I got along so well was that he always knew when I was done talking and needed to work. With a simple wave of my hand, Mike left my office and I was on to the trading day ahead of me.
“Natasha! I need the numbers for the day,” I hollered out as the morning bell rang.
Natasha rushed in with a single white piece of paper in her hand. She set it on my desk and quickly made her way out of the office and back to her desk. She didn’t say good morning. She didn’t ask how I was. Natasha didn’t even look at me when she came in my office, and I loved it! She was the perfect secretary for me.
Most men couldn’t handle having a knockout blonde secretary like Natasha around them all the time. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her model like height and slim frame made her stand out among the other women in our office. She dressed provocatively and always had her tits on display. Her tight skirts and big tits had once distracted me, but soon I learned the truth; Natasha was the meanest bitch I had ever met!