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Milan

Preston makes the most of fashion week!

If there is one cliché’ to describe how I feel in Milan during Fashion Week, it would be like a kid in a candy store! I was there on business though but I could not help but scheduling my meetings in the mornings so that I could at least catch some of the shows: Sander, Armani, Prada, etc., beautiful clothes worn by some of the most beautiful women in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those shallow men who goes entirely in for the model type. I think beauty comes in a variety of shapes, sizes and hues. For me it’s more the way a woman carries herself. That vapid, human clothes-hanger thing didn’t really do it for me. I preferred my women with distinct and strong personalities, that assuredness of confidence was what really got me going. But even with all of that, I must say that the Jill Sander show was by far my favorite, even though I consider myself to be traditionalist and lean more toward the home-town hero, Giorgio Armani. The pieces in her collection were incredible and the girls who modeled them were just as awe-inspiring. The full contingencies of hanger-ons and entourages were in town as well, making the city a veritable poser’s paradise. I was staying at the Hotel Bulgari.   That evening, I decided to check out the always hopping Gold. Gold is a club designed by Dolce and Gabanna. I figured the place would be jumping and I was right. It was absolutely the night of the beautiful people as I made my way along the velvet ropes, to one of the beefy doormen and gave him my name. He politely asked me to wait and someone would come and take me to the VIP section. After about five minutes according to my vintage 1960’s silver Rolex Date-Master, a leggy blond waves me into the club, through the mass of people and into the VIP section. I slid her $100 note for her troubles, ordered a bottle of Krug Rose and a double Louis XIII and passed her my platinum American Express. I was wearing a pearl grey Oswald Boateng suit with a white Ascot Chang custom straight collared shirt with a black Yves St. Laurent logoed belt and black Gucci patent leather slip-ons as I took a seat on the couch in the VIP area. From my seat I could look down and see all of the people dancing and carousing. The girl returned with my drink order. She sat the bucket with the iced-down champagne in front of me as well as the Louis XIII in a very nice crystal tumbler. I slipped her another $100 ask her and asked her to close out my tab. As I sat in the VIP, my mind wondered toward the seemingly endless wave of people in the club. Who were they? Where did they all come from? Where did they go once this spectacle is over? My daydream was interrupted.

“Jill Sander, third row, next to the woman in the horrible hat?”

I looked up expecting to see the drink girl with my tab instead it was another blond, with a short cropped haircut, an tight black sweater dress, Chanel maybe, black, knee length boots and black Prada glasses.

“Hi there, excuse me.” I said trying to focus on where I knew this girl from. “Have we met?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I just remembered you from the show this afternoon. You were there, right? The Jill Sander show?” She bent down over me speaking in my ear over the loud music.

“Oh yes, I was there. It was a great collection. I don’t write for a magazine or buy for a store. I’m here on business and thought I would check out some of the shows.” I said, trying to let this girl know that there would be no real reason to cozy up to me.

“Well you certainly dress the part of an aficionado.” She said, eyeing my suit.

“If that was meant to be a compliment, then thank-you.”

“Oh, it definitely was a compliment. So where’s the rest of your entourage?”

“Entourage?” I replied curiously.

“Yes, I read all the time about the black entertainers in America traveling with an entourage everywhere they go. Is your’s near by?” She eyes surveyed the VIP looking for those who might be a member of my entourage. “Are they on the dance floor?” I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck as she spoke to me.

“Slow down. First of all, I am not an entertainer. Secondly, I don’t have an entourage.”

“So where is your partner?”

“Partner? Like business partner?”

“No, not exactly, I meant like lover.”

“Lover? Oh, you thought I was at fashion week and that I’m not an entertainer and I didn’t have the posse with me that the next logical conclusion would have to be that I was I was here with my lover, my male lover none the less.”

“Well how else would you explain it?”

“Explain what?”

“The fact that you have yet to ask me to dance!” She smiled widely, causing both of us to burst our laughing.

“So you are the female Benigni, huh?”

“I’m sorry; I could resist taking a piss. I’m Stephanie.” She said still smiling.

“Stephanie, I’m Preston . Have a seat if you like.”

“Thank-you. Business trip, what sort of business?” She asked, falling deep into the sofa, her legs spread slightly giving me a slight glance to what lie between her thighs.

“Don’t blame me for the price of your petrol but I am in the oil and gas industry. It moves me around a lot and every so often I get stuck in a place like Milan right in the middle of Fashion Week. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any! How about you, how do you pay the bills?”

“I’m a writer.” She said as she poured herself a glass of the Krug.

“Really, anything I might have read?”

“Do you read Italian?”

“No.”

“Then most likely the answer is no. I write for Italian Vogue. I’m sure a man such as yourself has seen it before.”

“Sure, I look at the pictures every time I’m in my dentist’s office.”

“You are an Eddie Murphy, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“A comedian! A black Benigni!” She said laughing.

“No not me.”

“You don’t entertain, no entourage, no gay lover, no jokes, please tell me you can dance my dear Preston .”

“I do alright.”

“In that case what are you waiting for?” With that she places her flute onto the table. I stood and took her hand and we made our way toward the crowded dance floor.

The music was so loud I could feel it in my chest, Stephanie wasted no time transforming herself from sarcastic, dry-witted writer in the VIP to a veritable dancing machine on the dance floor. She could actually dance, I was impressed. The way she moved and shimmied was both confident and sexy, her body writhing and swaying to the music as if she was an extension of it.

“I’m impressed.” I yelled, pulling her towards me by her shoulder so that she could hear me over the deafening music.

“You doubted me?’ She replied, taking a step closer so that as she danced she was rubbing her chest against mine.

“Not any more.” I laughed. “Definitely, not anymore.”

“Good!” And with that she turned her back toward me and began to shimmy and shake against my body. The crowd was so thick I was unsure if she had intended to actually be this close or if the density of the crowd had made this so. For whatever reason there was no doubt that Stephanie was red hot and her mating dance was getting me excited. She backed in closer to me, her ass grinding on my dick, her hands running along my thigh and the back of her head resting on my chest. I met her grind and bent my knees slightly so that she was cradled between my knees and pelvis. I placed my hands on her hips and balanced her as she danced. She pressed herself harder against my hardness. My hands slipped past her dress and made contact with the sides of her bare thighs. Her skin was so soft but I could definitely feel the muscles and definition. I slowly ran my hand up the sides of her legs, inching her dress higher and higher until she finally grabbed both hands and turned to face me.

“You are being a very naughty boy.” She smiled.

“And the penalty for that is?” I replied.

“No punishment, only pleasure if I choose.”

“Then why move my hands?” I asked.

“Because I’m not wearing any panties, silly boy!” She loudly whispered.

I slid my hand beneath the back of her dress and felt nothing but bare bottomed ass. I allowed my thumb to run down the crack of her ass and felt no evidence of a thong or anything else. I slowly ran my thumb further down the crack of her ass.

“Mmmm. Very naughty. You’re going to make me even wetter than I already am.”

“Am I supposed to take your word for that?”

Stephanie took my hand and placed in beneath her dress and against her inner thigh. I could feel her dampness and heat. The thought of this made my dick throb but the actual touching of her wetness sent my mind reeling!

“Satisfied?”

“Not yet.” I smiled.

“Well in that case let’s take a ride, shall we?” She said as she took my hand and we made our way out of Gold and got into an awaiting taxi.

“ Grand Hotel et de Milan.” Stephanie directed the driver. And with that, we sped of into the Milanese night. We made out in the back of the taxi. Stephanie massaging my dick through my pants, subtly sliding her wet finger from under her dress into my hungry mouth, and then tasting herself on my tongue. She would not let me touch her though and the anticipation was about to make me burst!

Once at the Grand and into her room, I grabbed Stephanie pressed her against the wall kissing her slowly on the mouth and neck. She turned around so that her back was to me. I focused my attention on her long neck, planting kisses and soft nibbles on it as she pressed her soft ass against my stiff dick. My hands slid to her soft thighs and slowly eased up her dress. I grabbed her by the top of her hip, bringing her even closer into me. Stephanie reached around and began unbuckling my trousers. She slid her hand down the front of my trousers and grabbed the shaft of my dick and slowly jerked it as I continued to suck and bite her neck.

“Wait.” Stephanie said as she released my dick and took her dress off. “I need you tongue inside me.” She made her way across the suite toward the couch wearing nothing but her black, knee high Christian Louboutin boots. I came out of my clothes wearing only a Cartier Santos and watched her climb onto the couch knees first and bent over. I followed her, dropped to my knees with her ass in face. “Fuck me with your tongue.” She requested.

I slowly planted kisses all over Stephanie’s plump bottom, from the base of her spine to the top of her thigh, lifting her ass cheek to run my tongue beneath it. She moaned lightly as my tongue pleasured her. From behind, her pussy resembled as firm and ripe peach, a peach that I would soon taste. I spread her ass cheeks, extended my tongue, made it stiff and delicately ran it along the length of her slit.

“That’s it, taste me.” She moaned as my tongue made its journey up and down the mouth of her wet river. When I got to her opening I inserted more of my tongue inside her and made deft circles with it along the tender flesh of her inner walls. Stephanie was now grinding her swollen muff against my face. She reached back, grabbed a cheek and spread it even wider, giving me greater access. I planted my face deeper inside her as her gyrations became more deliberate. “You are trying to make me cum aren’t you?” She groaned.

“Do you want to cum?”

“Yes but not yet, you feel soooo good!” She exclaimed, taking her hand away from her cheek and grabbing my head with it forcing me even deeper inside her. “Are you ready to fuck me with that black dick, huh?” I continued eating Stephanie out for about five more minutes when she finally stopped me. “I want to cum all over you dick.” I pulled away as Stephanie turned around in the couch so that she was sitting. Still wearing those knee-high boots, she lifted her long legs high in the air, grabbed her ankles and brought her legs toward her ears until the heals of the boots interlocked behind her head offering me her Viennese oyster “I want you.” She said with a glazed over look in her eyes.

I stood over Stephanie wearing only my Cartier, leaned towards her, my hands resting on the heals of her boots and allowed my hardened dick to gently graze her inner thigh and Milanese peach. Her peach glistened and the small tuft of brown hair between her legs was wet and lay down flat as evidence to both her excitement and submission. When the head got close to her opening, Stephanie would shift her body, trying to slip me inside her. “Please stop teasing, I need you inside me.” She begged, causing me to trace her lips with my head just out of spite and sweet torture. Finally, I grabbed myself and guided my member to her opening. My eyes glanced up and noticed Stephanie biting her lip in anticipation and focusing solely on my dick. I rubbed it against her exposed and swollen clit and she shivered. I slid it down the swollen lips of her labia and hesitated before I entered her. “Please.” She begged and with that I pressed the head against her opening, gently at first but then pressing a little harder until the mushroomed head disappeared inside her. She closed her eyes and bit harder on her lip as I slowly entered her with the first three inches. “Oh. God.” She moaned. I slowly pulled out leaving only the head and entered her again methodically adding another inch before removing everything but the head. Again I penetrated her, this time with the fifth inch as she brought her legs behind her head. I continued until I had filled her inch by inch with all nine inches of my manhood. When I had completely filled her, I stood motionless inside her and then begin to pump myself into her, short strokes at first to which she would wince but rotate her hips counter-clockwise to throw it back to me. Once Stephanie had gotten used to the size and girth of my member, I made my strokes deeper and more decisive, long stokes inside her, arching my back to drag the head against the top of her walls, rubbing it against her G-Spot, shorter stokes with the head aimed either right or left to rub against her side walls and finally straight down the middle aiming directly for bottom. “God watching you go in and out of me is going to make me cum!” Stephanie said.

As I too watched myself going in and out of Stephanie like an oil derrick, I could not help but notice the thick, heavy cream on my dick, we had made butter with all of our slow churning! I leaned into Stephanie again, my hands on the back of her sexy boots and sank completely into her. I removed my hands to grab her hips and her legs fell onto my shoulders, my sweat mixed with hers allowed me to slide against her making our rhythm even smoother. I put my arms around her thighs and pulled her towards me, she sank deeper into the couch giving me the angle I needed to get off. I closed my eyes tightly as I pumped into her. I’m sure the sound of slapping skin could be heard from the outside as my fucking became more aggressive.

“ Preston , I’m cumming!”

I continued filling her with my instrument of torture and pleasure.

“God, I’m cumming.”

I pumped harder and harder searching for my own orgasm. I felt Stephanie’s body shake and quiver beneath me. She bucked wildly, bit down again on her lip and then was motionless.

“Cum for me, Preston !”

I could feel the sensation building in the back of my balls and slowly moving up through my shaft.

“Are you close baby?”

“Yes!” I managed to utter. “Very close! Damn!”

Stephanie pushed my away with her booted legs. My dick jumped and jerked as she knelt in front of me, “You know I have to taste it. Cum for me!” She placed the head in her mouth and used both hands to jerk me off. My legs wobbled as my orgasm approached. “I can taste your precum, you are almost there! She put me back into her mouth and continued to jerk me off. My dick jumped twice and my body stiffened. Stephanie took me out of her mouth and aimed my dick towards her chest. I shot my creamy milk in two long spurts all over her ivory chest. Stephanie moaned as the hot liquid oozed down her chest. She then took her tongue and cleaned the head of my dick with it. I fell into the couch as she kissed and licked my toned but momentarily spent bronze body. We lie there on the couch spent. When I awoke a few hours later Stephanie was gone, leaving only a note simply saying. ‘I have to get back to Rome for a deadline, Ciao Stephanie.’

And with that reality crept back in.

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