Confessions of a Litigation God

Page 2

I chose Number 366, or Marie as she asked to be called, because her profile said she was new to the area but that she wasn’t interested in the song and dance of a pretend date. She wanted to get right to the f**king, and I expect that’s going to make her a very popular woman with the men of ONO.

It’s certainly already made her popular with me.

As I enter the lobby of the hotel she picked, I get an email from her on my phone instructing me to go to the front desk. I don’t even have to open my mouth to say anything as the clerk seems to recognize me and says, “Good evening, Mr. Black. I’ve got a package for you. ”

Yes, Mr. Black. One of the reasons I pay such an exorbitant amount of money to ONO is for the anonymity it provides.

I have to say, I’m very impressed with Marie. She’s planning this out quite nicely. I take a large, brown envelope that is clearly stuffed with something and open it up. I pull out the contents, which looks like two purple silk scarves, a handwritten note, and a room key. My lips curl up in a sensual grin, and I head toward the elevator as I read the note.

I’m in Room 2013. The scarves are yours to do with as you please. Anything goes.

When I reach the room, I slide the keycard in the slot and slowly open it up, immediately seeing the curtains drawn back from the window and the next building over awash with lights of those Manhattanites still working. Both table lamps are on, bathing the room in a nice glow.

In the center of the bed is Marie, and she clearly doesn’t care if anyone from the other building over can see her. I don’t care either, for that matter, as I can be a bit of an exhibitionist when I want.

She’s completely na**d with huge, hard nippled tits, fiery red hair that fans out on the pillow, and a completely waxed pu**y, which makes me slightly disappointed because now I wonder if she’s a real redhead. She has a hungry-as-fuck look on her face, and I am instantly, painfully hard.

I don’t say a word, and neither does she. I love these ONO dates where conversation is not required. I didn’t figure Marie to be a talker since she wasn’t interested in dinner or drinks, so I immediately take the scarves and tie her hands to the headboard. She moans her approval, her eyes following me as I move to the end of the bed and stare down at her.

Fuck, this is the life.

Stuff dreams are made of.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I casually strip in front of her while her gaze eats me up. She has a satisfied smile on her face when I drop my pants and my erection springs free. I take myself in my right hand and start a slow stroke while I watch her watching me. When her tongue peeks out and takes a swipe at her bottom lip, I decide to give her something to remember me by.

Let me be the first to tell you, I give good f**king head. You won’t find another man with better oral skills. I can make a woman come extremely fast with my tongue, and I love doing it. I love the taste, the sensations, the way a woman goes f**king crazy with a man’s face between her legs. I spend time getting her off, and then I get myself off while availing myself to her beautiful body.

Win/win.

See?

I crawl my way in between Marie’s legs, spread her silky, smooth flesh, and my horniness factor increases as she grunts in rhythm with my tongue strokes. She moans, groans, and finally starts panting, bucking her h*ps hard against me, and frankly, throwing me off my game a bit. I put my hands on her stomach and pin her down, then I focus and give it to her fast. She breaks apart so easily, and I’m grinning like the Cheshire Cat as I work my way up her body.

Giving her a few kisses, nips, and licks across her stomach and br**sts, I manage to hook both of my elbows behind the backs of her knees as I move my way north. It raises her h*ps off the bed and gives me the perfect angle to sink into her. She’s wet and ready, but who wouldn’t be after what I just did to her?

With an easy push of my hips, her body eagerly accepts my cock. She mewls like a starving kitten when I start thrusting inside of her.

I take my time. She’s tied up, not going anywhere, and she’s flush off a fantastic orgasm. She knows how good I can make her feel, so she’s along for the ride. I alternate fast, slow, hard, soft… you name it—I give it to her. I mean, it’s basic missionary position, but the way I have her legs and h*ps raised, I know I’m hitting her at her deepest point, and her increased moaning confirms it.

We haven’t even kissed yet, and I wonder if she wants to. I could take it or leave it, frankly. Too intimate sometimes, which gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I’ll do it if the woman wants it. Let’s face it… I’ll do practically anything a woman wants me to.

As I continue to f**k her, Marie stares out the window at the building across the way, with a glazed and rapturous look on her face. She’s wondering if we’re being watched, not that anyone could see a lot of detail without some binoculars or a telescope, but I suppose it’s possible.

I look down at her… scarves binding her hands, my arms pinning her legs in place, at my mercy while I pound away inside of her body

Fuck, that’s hot, and I can feel my orgasm start to bubble.

Then it boils.

Then it f**king erupts.

I place my face in the pillow that’s supporting Marie’s head, lost in a haze of lust and bliss, shouting hoarsely into it as I spurt into her.

As soon as the last shudder works its way from my spine out through my dick, I pull out of her and roll to the side. That was a workout, and I’m breathing heavily. So is she, not because she did anything, but because her heart rate is through the roof.

Glancing over at her, I ask, “Did you come a second time?” I had gotten so overwhelmed in lust that I didn’t even think to wait for her.

She nods her head, eyes still glazed but with a satisfied smile on her face.

I turn and look back at the ceiling. “Good. That’s good. ”

My breathing finally calms and I roll off the bed, untying one of Marie’s hands. I walk back around, stopping at the end to pick up my clothes. Marie just watches me, her chest and those glorious tits I all but ignored still heaving.

When I put on my t-shirt and zip up my jeans, because I dressed über casual tonight, I finally untie her other hand. She rolls onto her side, tucking her hand under her face, and watches me put on my socks and shoes.

When I’m done, I walk back over to her and lean down, placing a light kiss on her forehead. She sighs and closes her eyes, never saying a word to me. I turn for the door, already looking forward to drinking a beer and watching Sports Center when I get home.

Marie hadn’t said a word during that entire f**k session.

It makes me smile because it’s just the way I like it.

I tell myself that over and over again, as I walk out of the hotel.

It was just the way I like it.

Just the way I like it.

I keep repeating it, ignoring the gnawing emptiness at the center of my chest… the painful squeeze of some unrealized longing. I choose to believe I may be having a heart attack rather than think the unthinkable… that maybe something is truly missing.

Ridiculous really.

Yup… fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. That’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

Chapter 2

I stare at the deposition transcript in front of me, read the same line for probably the third time, and it’s just not sinking in. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s almost four o’clock.

I’m distracted and feeling off center. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. It’s like the flavor has gone out of everything. My food doesn’t taste as good, my courtroom victories aren’t as sweet and f**k, I hate to even admit it… a woman’s cl*t on my tongue hasn’t had that much allure either.

I think that’s because I’ve been having too much of it.

Right?

That could be the reason, although, even as I think that f**king idiotic sentiment, my rational side is rolling its eyeballs. No man can ever have enough sex. That’s the truth.

Pushing the transcript aside, I pull up my internet browser and navigate my way to ONO’s secure server. I type in my logon and password, heading straight into my “wish list”. This is where I tag all the profiles of women that I have a passing interest in f**king. I’ve not been availing myself of it lately and, in fact, I’ve not had a “date” in six days. Almost an entire week of jerking off in the shower, which, honestly, has been producing about the same pleasure as I got with the lovely Marie just six days ago.

Sighing, I flip through the profiles, all the faces blurring together. That’s all you get at first… just a head shot of the woman. They are all spectacularly gorgeous, varied in hair color, ethnicity, size, and shape. I love women and find many things about a woman to be beautiful, but nothing I’m seeing right now is causing the remotest of pulsing in my pants.

I head back out to the home page and put in new search criteria.

Vanilla, Light Kink, Female, Age 21-45 and hit “Enter”.

Over a thousand profiles populate the screen, each with a thumbnail of their headshot showing up for perusal. I sort the list according to Membership Activation Date, newest on top.

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

I halt on one picture that stands out. It’s fairly new… Number 3498… joined just a few weeks ago.

I click on the link and look at the larger photo that comes up before I read her stats.

She’s stunning… no doubt. Raven-black hair, crystal-green eyes, high cheekbones, perfectly straight and delicately narrow nose. Her lips are full, soft looking, and would only look better wrapped around my cock. She looks like a f**king runway model, and I stare at her for a while.

Her overall beauty, though, is not what’s really catching my attention. I look back at her eyes and once you get past the shock of seeing such lovely, pale green popping next to that black hair, I feel a thrill run through me when I realize what really is attracting me is the intelligence I see.

She stares directly at the camera and while she’s giving a sexy, sultry smile, her eyes are sharp and alert. Almost calculating.

It’s f**king hot, and my dick is definitely twitching in interest.

But as sometimes happens, right in the midst of a good hard-on, something comes along and kills it deader than a doornail.

That would be my phone ringing Heart’s Barracuda, which means my ex-wife, Marissa, is calling me.

I contemplate not answering it for just about two seconds, but then push that right out of my mind. Chances are she’s calling to bust my balls, demand money, or some other devious way to make me suffer. But on the off chance it’s something serious about our seven-year-old son, Gabe, I can’t take the chance of missing her call.

“What do you need?” I ask tiredly into the phone as soon as I connect it.

“You could at least answer politely,” she snaps, and I know this is going to be one of those conversations where I’d rather have my nuts castrated than listen to another moment of her vitriol.

I don’t respond though, because she’s aiming for a fight and if I do, it will fuel the flames. I find it completely ironic, a little bit sad, and a whole lot unfair that she was the one that cheated on me, and yet she’s the one that gets to act all offended when our marriage crumbled. My mom once told me it was her guilt causing her to act that way, but I can’t believe that for a moment. The only thing Marissa was guilt stricken about was that she got caught and it ruined her swank lifestyle when I kicked her to the curb.

After several seconds of silence, she sighs. “I need some money. ”

“No,” I tell her, because this isn’t the first time she’s asked. The bitch tried to sneak in a boob job after telling me she needed the money to send Gabe to an expensive summer camp last year.

“It’s for Gabe,” she whines.

“Nice try,” I tell her firmly, glancing back at the photo of Number 3498 on my computer screen. Those intelligent eyes seem to be boring into me, seeing deep inside to the tribulations I suffer under Marissa’s antipathy.