It was a Friday night—three weeks since I’d parted ways with my boyfriend. I’d woken up that morning horny and knowing I needed something better than my silicon dildo that night. That’s how I ended up at the Orange Buffalo after work. Nobody seemed to know where the name arose from, but it was one of the best Friday-night hookup bars in the city.

I’d brought my big, knock-off, YSL purse that morning. It contained, among other things, a top different than the sedate, white poly number that work almost demanded. A quick change in the Ladies turned me out in a multi-colored silk blouse, hanging loose at my waist, unbuttoned to just boob bottom. Bra into my purse along with my panties. They’d been replaced by a string thong—feeling sexy radiates sexy. Rolling up my skirt’s waist brought it several inches above my knees.

I’d lucked out at the bar. There was an unoccupied high-top table for two—I grabbed it. Slowly sipping a vodka Gibson rocks, extra onions, guys stopped by, chatted hopefully, and left after it became clear we were not doing it that night. My Mr. Right had not yet appeared. But soon “he” pulled out the empty stool and sat.

My eyes locked with his. They were a mix of browns with flecks of gold. His hair was medium brown, a bit curly and tousled. I caught a whiff of his cologne, Tom Ford Oud Wood—wonderful. Already things were looking quite promising.

Somehow feeling bewitched, I couldn’t look away. He said, ”Hi, I’m Luca. I just couldn’t let such a beautiful woman sit alone. If it’s not a crime it should be.”

Feeling almost mesmerized, my brain told me, Okay Erica, this is where you say hi and talk to him. You know you’re easily an eight. You look hot. Just do it! He’s not even staring at your tits.

I prayed my mouth wasn’t hanging open. After a second or two, which seemed an eternity, I finally smiled and said, “Hey, I’m Erica. Nice to meet you.” Then laughingly added, “Feel free to sit down.” I was getting it back together. But his eyes still kept drawing me in.

The waitress came by, somewhat saving me. “I’ll have what she’s having and bring her another. So, what are we drinking?”

As I replied, “Vodka Gibsons,” his eyes finally moved to my boobs. Subtly pulling my shoulders back and twisting a strand of hair, I felt my nips harden. I was already in major lust while trying to discern what must be wrong with him, there had to be something.

We made the usual getting acquainted small talk: the city, where we lived, the weather, work, favorite foods, strayed into politics briefly—we shared common views. Still nothing wrong. By then, we’d finished half our drinks, my second, his first.

Just as there was a short lull in our conversation, the jukebox began playing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” He stood, extending his hand, no words needed. Starting in the traditional slow dance style, in less than a minute his hands were around my waist, my arms around his neck. He partly hummed, partly softly sang the words in my ear. Pulling him tight, his cock pushed against me. At that moment I knew several things: we were definitely fucking that night, he could be the love of my life, and I might actually marry him—if asked, of course.

The song ended. In that short interlude before the next one started we just stood, holding each other. Then “Dancing In The Dark” started. We looked at each other and started rockin’ to it. I moved to get my boobs jiggling as my blouse flopped open and closed just enough to give him a view. My eyes were still magically pulled to his, while his were locked on my boobs—a good sign. Yup, if his eyes and my wet thong were any indication, tonight was definitely happening.

We talked about leaving and whose place we’d go to. I insisted on his. It was closer and I didn’t want him leaving when the sex was finished. It was looking good for some great morning sex also. I wasn’t going to be denied.

In the back seat of the Uber, he pulled me onto his lap, facing him. This raised my skirt to my hips, displaying the barely-there thong. As his hands cupped my boobs and fingers began tweaking my nips I moaned and we kissed deeply. I always close my eyes when kissing like that, but for some reason this time I opened them a few seconds later—his were also open. You can’t focus at that close distance. He seemed to be almost looking through me. The blur of his gold-flecked eyes once again drew me in. My body relaxed. I almost came.

“Uh, folks... folks, we’re here!” The driver brought us back to reality. Hoping off him, we both apologized as we got out. “Not like I haven’t seen it before. Have a great night!” he said, just before speeding off.

“Caught! Damn. Well, it was more than worth it. Sure am glad I invited myself to your table,” he said.

“So am I...” Then, “Your hands felt good,” I blurted out, giggling like a kid. This was so not me.

“Well, let’s get inside. Maybe listen to some music and have some wine... or something.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, grabbing his hand and thinking: or maybe some dick!

We couldn’t keep our hands off each other in the elevator. Fortunately, when the door opened there was no one waiting as we laughed and untangled ourselves.

He lived on the top floor of a fifty-story condo building. It was far nicer than my old, one-bedroom apartment. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the city—amazing. I was expecting normal male messy, but it was as neat as my place.

He opened a bottle of Sancerre. After pouring two glasses, he toasted, “To us.”

“To us,” I replied.

“To great sex!”

Pretty self-assured and bold, I thought. “To mind-blowing sex!” I burst out with. The two Gibsons caused that. We both started laughing again, both being audacious and confident—I liked that.

We walked to his windows, pushing one. It opened with ease—we went out on his balcony. The night air was wonderful. The sounds of the city were muffled by the fifty floors. Building lights glowed and the stars twinkled. Arm in arm, we didn’t speak—it was a rapturous moment. I wondered what he was thinking. He clearly wanted and expected to fuck me, but was I to be a one-night wonder or... what other possibilities lie ahead? I sighed, I was way ahead of my skis, as the saying went.

Once back inside he put his glass on the antique oak dining table and looked at me as I followed suit. He again transfixed me with his eyes. It was like what I imagined a trance was like, like he had complete control even though I knew I could do whatever I pleased. What pleased me was him. He held out his arms—I fell into them. He swept me up and next thing I knew, we were in his bed, naked and attacking each other like hungry jackals.

I sucked his cock like a starving demon, gagging myself to take it all. I would not be denied. When he felt my capabilities, he grabbed my head and face-fucked me—I reveled in it. In my mind, it was as if he was fucking my pussy. An orgasm was building. How was that possible? What did it matter? I was totally enthralled. His legs tensed and his cock hardened just that tiny bit more.

“I’m going to cum!” he almost snarled as the first gush shot into my throat. One after another they came. I struggled to keep swallowing. Then it hit me. My body was trembling. I made some wild gurgling sounds as the orgasm swept through me. I pulled away and we both lay gasping.

“I never...” I managed to get out.

“Sorry if I hurt you, but God, it was good!”

Somehow I chuckled and said, “Hurt me? You fucked the bejesus out of my throat and made me cum. I think it’s hot as hell!”

We laughed and kissed as we held each other. When our bodies had returned to what passed for normal in those circumstances, he said, “I think you now need a proper fucking.” I more than agreed.

With that, he slathered his dick with my juices, which were so abundant they were running down my thighs. Then, in one thrust, drove his thick cock as deep into me as possible. With my calves on his shoulders, he proceeded to pound me relentlessly. I began cumming and screaming for mercy over and over, but he never relented. When he eventually groaned and shot his second load of hot spunk into me, he collapsed and we both sank into the mattress. He was probably 180 pounds and I hardly noticed. At some point, he rolled off me and onto his back, his spunk beginning to ooze out of me. The only thing I regretted was his cock pulling out of me—I hated that feeling.

After another recovery period, he arose, retrieved the wine, and offered me a glass. I had no idea what to toast to so I just dinged our glasses together. He again locked eyes with me. “To the coming grand slam!”

Only knowing that regarding tennis, I gave him a quizzical look. “Grand slam?”

“Yes, my sweet. The trifecta: mouth, pussy, and ass. A perfect conclusion to our wonderful beginning. Don’t you think? I know you love anal.”

Our eyes were still locked. Thoughts overwhelmed me, causing a loss for words. I was ready to blurt out, Great! But held back. How did he know I enjoyed anal? Or was that a total guess? Why did I feel like he could read my mind? That was a parlor trick at best. No one could really read minds. But yet he’d been awfully insightful so far. And this eye-to-eye connection that we’d seemed to have developed... I’d begun to crave it, but I wasn’t reading his mind. Far from it. I was lost in his eyes. Mentally swimming in a beautiful, entrancing golden-brown pool.

Well... I was having the best time, sexually and otherwise, that I’d had in my twenty-six years. He’d done nothing but bring me fun and pleasure. “Well, okay. But you’d better be gentle. Don’t go jammin’ that dick in like you did with my pussy.”

“No worries sweetness. I’ll just insert this plug...” Which seemed to appear out of nowhere. “into your star to get you ready while we have a bit of doggy fun. Does that suit you?”

I mean, what the fuck? He was ten steps ahead of me and I’ve been around the block... more than once. Screw it. “Luca, I don’t know how you do it, and right now I don’t care. Just remember what I said. And, oh yeah, what made you think I loved anal?”

“I have a sixth sense for these things. Let’s be honest. Neither of us are newbies at this. We clearly are having a great time, with hopefully more to come in the future—”

“So we’ll go with the flow.” I finished his thought for him.

“Right! Now spread those cheeks,” he said as he smacked them. The plug popped right in.

We drank our wine. I got my buzz going again. He followed me to the bed, spanking my ass with each step. Did he know I liked being spanked or was that just sort of an outgrowth of the upcoming anal? This night, from the very beginning, was like none I’d ever had in the past.

I assumed the position and he once again used my flowing juices to lube himself, then pressed gently into my slit. This was different. I could feel the plug. He kept up the spanking. After my first orgasm, he grabbed my hair roughly and jerked my head up and back. My back was reverse-arched, only my fingertips were on the bed as he slammed in and out of me. He was making me cum more than I’d ever experienced. I was always able to cum multiple times, and I always knew how many times it happened, but there was no counting that night. I was riding a continuous wave. The spanks just coerced them out of me quicker. For the first time, I began to think he might make me pass out. I’d lost all sense of time and space.

I heard him talking, and then yelling at me. It took every bit of concentration to understand. “Slut! Who’s your Daddy? Tell me! Who's your Daddy?”

“You are,” I mumbled as I moaned in my debauchery.

“What are you?” I didn’t respond. I was losing it. He jerked my head and repeated, “What are you?! Tell me!”

“Your slut. Your puta. I’m your bitch! Yours! You fucker!” I knew what he was doin’ and I loved it.

“That’s right. You're Daddy’s little slut.” He jerked my head back again. “You love my dick in you don’t you?!”

Back to full awareness. “Yes! I’m your little slut bitch and I love it. I love your dick and love you fucking me!” That was when he pulled both his dick and the plug out of me. I screamed, “Nooo!”

“Don’t worry, slut. The best is yet to come. Spread those cheeks.”

I was almost an automaton. As soon as I pulled them wide I felt the lube and then his cock head pushing. Pop and he was in. My arms flopped down. If he hadn’t been holding my hips, I would have collapsed. Then the slow in and out. Deeper and deeper. That wonderfully different feeling. The ultimate invasion. The most I could give. As someone once told me, a dick in your ass tended to focus your mind. He’d intently focused mine.

“Oh god, Daddy. Yes, yes. So good. I love it. I love you. I’m your slut. Take my ass. Fuck me. Fuck it and make me cum more. I’m such a cum slut. OH god! That’s it. Do it. Do me, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Just let yourself go.”

And I did. When he said that it was like I’d taken a couple Xanax’s. Anal had never felt so good. All I felt was pleasure, toe-curling, thrilling pleasure... and orgasms. God did I ever cum. I think every part of my body was quivering, to one degree or another, as they peaked.

Peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys, until he uttered a guttural growl and jerked me tight to him. I felt his spasmodic spurts as he drained himself into me. I only knew he was finished when he dropped me and I fell, face down, like a sack of potatoes.

He mumbled, “shower” and was gone. A few seconds later I heard the water start. I’d never been so exhausted, so used, but in the best of all possible ways. Time past. I just lay in our bodily fluids, almost unable to move.

Sometime later he came back, again I caught a whiff of Oud Wood. Good god, how did he do it? Then he smacked my ass as he said, “Hey girl, you look like you’ve been through a wringer. Go grab a shower. You’ll feel a hundred times better.”

I admit that made me feel somewhat wimpy. If he had performed with his previous women, like he just did with me, and they hopped right up, they deserved some kind of special reward. Even though offended, I held my tongue. He had potential that was too rare to pass up on one slight affront. So I slowly made my way to an upright position, glared at him as he smiled at me, and went to the shower.

He was right, I did feel better afterward. Also, he’d laid out an apparently new brush and comb, plus a white, warm, soft bathrobe. After toweling my hair damp and combing it straight, I donned the robe. Upon leaving the bathroom I immediately smelled garlic and tomato sauce. Following my nose, I arrived in the kitchen, where he was stirring a pot.

“Erica! You look like a new woman. I thought you might be hungry so I threw together some pasta and bruschetta. The wine is a Chianti. I get from my favorite vineyard in Tuscany. Enjoy.”

What guy does this at 2:00 am? On a first... was this a date or just a fuckfest? Who cared? “Oh Luca! How thoughtful. It’s just right. Thanks!”

We sat across from each other at the kitchen island. Once again his eyes caught mine. Those deep, entrancing, gold-flecked eyes. This time I managed to break away to enjoy the food and wine.

As if expected, and just as I wanted, I spent the night and slept the sleep of the dead. Only waking from the smell of coffee as he walked into the room.

“I made you a latte. I hope that’s okay?”

Was I in some fourth dimension or had I just never met a real, thoughtful, handsome, sexy gentleman before? Maybe I’d finally kissed my last toad.

“Oh, that’s perfect, Luca. Thank you.”

After another coffee, we had a minor replay of our recent sexual antics and then dressed for the day. I’d not foreseen the need for fresh, casual clothes so we stopped, very briefly, at my apartment and then spent the day at the zoo.

I never imagined that the zoo could be romantic, but I guess it’s all in the mind anyway. Every time he looked at me to explain something about an animal or their habitat (he knew a lot about both) our eyes would meet and I felt myself being drawn closer and closer to him, in the most intimate, sensual manner. It was almost like I was his captive but in a totally willing, desirable way. Knowing that I could walk away at any moment made me want to be with him all that much more.

He wanted to take me to dinner. I wanted that so bad, but I also knew there were things I absolutely had to do before work tomorrow. I explained and he understood. But did he?

“No worries sweetie. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll get together soon.”

“Promise?” I was so fuckin’ insecure. I wanted to take that back as I was blabbering it out.

Soon, we were at my building. He walked me to the door, where he looked deeply into my eyes as he held me. “Erica, I really enjoyed our time together. You’re a special woman.” Then we kissed. I was falling into a pool of love and he’d enjoyed our time together. How do you respond to that?

The kiss broke, and, as he turned to walk away, I said, “You’re a special guy Luca. I also really enjoyed our time together. Talk to you later.” His arm went up in the air, his hand waving, as he got in his car and roared away. I almost started crying. I was a mess.

I’d attached a special ringtone to his number. At work Monday I was willing it to ring—no such luck. Had to be that night then—no such luck. Was he ghosting me already? If for nothing else, he had to want a redo of our sex. It’d been the most fantastic I’d ever had and he was only a few years older than me.

Same thing on Tuesday—nothing. Then Wednesday night, at 7:31, his tone sounded. I grabbed the phone and almost answered it on the second ring, but waited until it was about to go to voice mail. I had a shred of self-control left.

“Oh, hi Luca.”

“Hey, Erica! Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but I’ve been going nonstop on this new project.” Fuck! Of course. The new project that he’d told me about. How could I have put that out of my mind?

“No problem. I kinda figured you’d really be up to it with all that going on. Is it looking good?”

“Yeah! Really good. I haven’t gotten much sleep but we got everything worked out. The contract signing is set for tomorrow. Big time bonus for me and the team. So want to make a weekend of it? Dinner Friday night, and then it’s you and me, babe... If I’m still your Daddy?”

Oh god! Every bit of unrealized, built-up tension drained out of me. “Hell yes, you’re my Daddy!” I pretty much shouted, and then in a soft, sexy voice, “Something hot and wet is missing you.”

“And I’m missing it, and you! I’m hard just from hearing your voice. Dinner at Luigi’s and then the rest of the weekend for dessert. Dress sexy. I want to show you off. A man wants to show off his girl... you are my girl, right?”

Holy shit! Drought or flood. “I... of course I’m your girl,” I said as I thought: God, what am I going to wear? What’s his version of sexy?

“You still there?”

“Ah, yeah, I was just thinking of what I might wear. Luigi’s is a pretty upscale restaurant. Your girl is a tiny bit more down-scale, just a tiny. No worries, I got it, forget I mentioned it.”

“You’ll get a delivery tomorrow night. Several outfits to choose from. You’ll look great in any of them so surprise me. Wanna FaceTime?”

Thank god for FaceTime. It was the best phone sex ever! Also, it reinforced my feelings about seeming to somehow link with him whenever our eyes fixed on each other. It was like he had this Svengali-like ability to bend me to his will, but always in welcome, pleasing ways. I brushed that thought aside as we both came almost simultaneously.

“Great idea! But I like your cock much better than my fingers,” I said seductively.

“You’re a little vixen. You know that, don’t you? I’ll bet you can be quite the tease.”

“But never in a bad or mean way,” I quickly interjected.

He laughed. “Okay sweet thing. I gotta run and look over these papers one last time. Your taste still lingers on my tongue. We’ll talk before, but plan on me getting you at 7:30 Friday night. I want this weekend to be as long as possible.” The screen went blank.

How do you go to sleep after that? I’ll tell you how. You get some wine. Then get all comfy in bed as you drink and play with yourself until you’ve finally worn yourself, or your clit, out.

When I got home from work Thursday night there was a Mercedes parked in front of my building. I gave it more than a glance cuz Mercedes don’t usually park in front of my building. As I walked by, the driver’s door opened and a man emerged. “Ms Nelson?”

I looked around thinking what a coincidence that there was another Ms Nelson nearby. There wasn’t. “Well, I’m Ms Nelson. Are you looking for me?”

“Apartment 226?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good. I have a few things for you. If it’s okay, I can bring them up so you don’t have to be burdened with it all”

“I’m not expecting anything. I didn’t order anything.”

“Oh... no, you misunderstand. These are from Signore Accardi. He wished me to deliver them personally. With his compliments.”

God, I’d totally forgotten. I never expected him to actually send me things. “Ah... yes, sure. I’d appreciate it.”

He followed behind me with an armload of boxes. Then quickly and quietly followed me into my apartment, placed them on a table and was gone. I saw the various labels on them: Nordstrom, Saks, Bloomingdale's, Prada, Alexander Wang. God, what had he done!? I dropped my things and began opening them. Everything from shoes to blouses, skirts, dresses, lingerie. All in multiple sizes, obviously to be sure at least one of each item would fit me. Then I saw the note card: “Erica, a small token. I hope you find something that pleases you for tomorrow night. Luigi has his best table in the window reserved for us. Hope you find something to your liking. Enjoy my sweet!”

Who the fuck was this guy? Had I unknowingly jumped through the looking glass or something?

At first, I began to rapidly open boxes and then slowed down when it all really hit me. This was all designer apparel with no price tags, obviously purposeful. This called for better wine than I had, but I opened the best I currently possessed. My first inclination was to call him, but I stopped. No, I should not show how overwhelmed I was. He’d find out in a natural way over the weekend, and when I make one hell of an impression tomorrow night.

I settled on an ankle-length black dress, slit to the waist on one side, the top hanging in a V from spaghetti straps to my waist—of course, no under-things. I also set aside two other outfits to bring for whatever he had planned for the rest of the weekend.

It was just before 7:30 Friday night. I was standing back from the window so as not to be seen, but still able to see the street. The dress fit perfectly. It hugged my hips and hung perfectly everywhere else. The inner slopes of both boobs, but not the nipples, were visible. Every movement of my left leg showed it to my hip while keeping my vag hidden.

The mental part of sex was oozing from me like new honey. I could almost smell it in the air. I’d never been in quite this state before. Just then, a limo pulled to the curb and stopped. Luca got out and headed to the building’s front entrance. I got a chill as my buzzer went off.

“I’ll be right down,” I called out through the intercom.

“I can’t want to see you and what you picked.”

“Leaving now,” I said into the speaker as I went out the door. I was twenty-six, four years out of college. A woman who’d experienced her fair share of life, yet I felt like I did on prom night. Get a grip I told myself.

As I stepped off the elevator he was there waiting. “Oh, Erica! You look marvelous! Perfection personified.”

Relief flooded through me—replaced by confidence. I did a pirouette. “Thanks Luca. You look quite handsome yourself. I love the cut of your suit.” That’s when our eyes met and I could not look away. It was almost like he was lightly brushing my clit, like I was seconds away from cumming. He broke contact and the feeling subsided.

I didn’t say anything. The next thing I knew we were in the limo and he was passing me a Gibson, extra onions. We just chatted and enjoyed our drinks as he caressed my exposed thigh. I enjoyed his touch, but it was nothing like what I experienced gazing into his eyes.

Time flew by. Soon we were walking into the restaurant and Luigi, who clearly knew Luca, apparently quite well, was greeting us. “Ah, Luca, so this is the beautiful lady you’ve been telling me about. Signora Erica, welcome to Luigi’s! Your beauty enhances my humble ristorante.”

“Thank you Luigi! It’s a real pleasure to be dining with you tonight,” I replied.

He held out his arm; I took it. Guiding us to our table, he explained the Barolo he’d decanted in anticipation of our arrival. It was poured, then tasted by Luca, who declared it “perfection.”

He poured for me and then held up his glass to toast—I followed suit. “To my darling Erica. May this be the first of many, many dinners in a wonderful future!” Our glasses clinked. The wine was excellent. Then, glasses down, he reached across the table, hands out, obviously wanting to hold mine. I happily obliged.

Our eyes again locked. At least mine locked with his. He did seem to be able to look away at will, while I found it almost impossible to look away from him. He started... “...so while it’s been a short time I hope and believe that we...” I was sort of fading in and out of attention to what he was saying even though I wanted to hear every word. My pussy felt alive, animated, like it was its own special needy thing—in a way it was. All I could think about was fucking, fucking Luca, right that moment, on the table or floor, it didn’t matter. I wanted it that badly. “...does all that sound crazy?”

Should I tell him that I’d only heard maybe half of what he’s just said? Tell him that I really, really wanted to fuck at this very moment? Was I totally going crazy?

I went with, “Luca, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but, please, bear with me. As much as I wanted to hear everything you just said to me, I couldn’t. I’m not deaf and you’re not whispering, but my brain couldn’t process everything because... well... I had certain feelings I couldn’t overcome. Has anyone ever told you anything like this before? Maybe particularly a woman?”

He paused, looking at the table and fidgeting with a fork. Then, “Did you have some maybe faint, like mild or fuzzy sexual urges?”

“Mild!? Fuzzy!?” I almost shrieked. “My pussy almost became its own living thing ready to eat you alive.” His face slightly changed. “So you know something. There is something. You better tell me right this second!”

He was trying to suppress a big grin and impending laughter when he saw my look. He held up both hands in a surrender-type move. “Okay, okay, I think I know. It’s never been like this. I’ve never told a woman I loved her before—”

“You told me you loved me? Just now!?”

Still smiling, still looking at the table, he went on. “There’s something in my family. It’s mostly legend. Supposedly, sometimes, some of the men, this hasn’t happened in at least two generations—”

“Okay, okay! Spill it! Move on.”

“Sometimes some of the men can cause some,” He saw my look out of the corner of his eye, “sexual desires in women that are interested and responsive to him. I’ve had thoughts that this might have happened in the past but nothing was ever said and nothing was really apparent. Your colorful description is totally new to me. I’m sorry it's apparently concerning you.”

I sat there thinking. “Concerning” me, hmm-mm. Yeah, one might say that. He was going to speak again and I held up my hand, needing to think more. A legend. Women had to be “interested and responsive to him.” I was all that. He apparently said he loved me. I felt the same, but could I, should I, say that now? So is all this a trick just to fuck me until he tires and moves on?

Just then the waiter showed up. I waved him away and said to Luca, “So, let’s just say for a talking point, that I really like you a lot and love having sex with you. Is that just a mind fuck or is it really what I think?”

“Erica, I never have and never would ‘mind fuck’ a woman to fuck her, even if I had that ability. Until this moment, I thought this was all a legend, a fairy tale if you will. Actually, I, we, don’t know that it isn’t. You told me about your feelings and I told you about a family legend. It’s never really been tested.”

“Okay. You said, according to the legend, a woman has to be interested and responsive. Right now I’m definitely both, so make me cum.”

“Here? Now? Seriously?”

“Seriously. I want to know. Do you know it’s only when we look into each other’s eyes?”

“So the legend goes. I don’t personally know.”

“Well, I do. So look into mine and make me cum.”

“Okay...” he said, somewhat dubiously.

Our eyes locked and the tingling started almost immediately. Feelings built rapidly in me. I didn’t think it possible, but my body told me an orgasm was well on the way. Grabbing both edges of the table so tightly I was afraid I’d break the glass top, my thighs began to quiver and it hit me. I restrained myself enough to only let out a small squeak.

His grin couldn’t have been bigger when he said, “I guess the legend is true.”

“You think so!?” I wanted to shout it, but kept my voice low, then, “Luca, what the fuck?” Talk about a mind fuck... I was disconcerted by it. Half of me thought it was thrilling; the other half was alarmed at all the possibilities, not all of them good. “This is like witchcraft, voodoo, supernatural whammy-jammy. Are you a warlock or something?”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t go off the deep end. I can’t perform miracles or—”

“How do you know? Maybe you're part alien or the second coming.” Then I laughed at myself. “Get that, the second coming? That must be it.” I was calming down.

He laughed. I laughed. We both had wine.

“Can we maybe order something and let this kinda marinate in our minds, especially yours.”

“You know more don’t you? Just say yes and we’ll talk later.”

“Okay, a small yes. Later, okay?” as he motioned for the waiter.

“Like your ‘sixth sense’ about me and anal, right?”

“Yeah. Along those lines. Later?”

I agreed and we went on to have a wonderful dinner. Luigi was very attentive. Un-ordered things, piccola stuzzichinos, were periodically brought out to keep whetting our appetites. We finished with Torta Caprese, a wonderful, flourless cake. As the last of our second bottle of wine disappeared, Luca surreptitiously slipped Luigi his credit card. There were some eye movements, hand jesters, Luigi left, he came back, more smiles, we stood, hugs, cheek busses. I guessed it was an Italian thing. A fun way to end an amazing dinner.

The limo pulled up and stopped as we left the restaurant. The driver quickly opened Luca’s door and rushed to get mine. Offering his hand, he assisted me in. Not routinely wearing four-inch heels, I appreciated it. Too bad he was on my right side. He would have had a much more interesting view on my left, not that he missed my boobs as I bent to enter the limo. We both grinned at each other. One enjoys being appreciated.

Once we were underway he told me to get on my knees in front of him facing the driver. The limo had plenty of room for that. “What’s Daddy going to do?” I asked as I complied.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Then I felt the cool lube and quickly, the plug. “Oh Daddy! You are the Devil, I knew it,” I said laughingly. Then, “Mmmm... I like that Daddy.” As I wiggled my ass. “I think your mind runs in the gutter,” I said teasingly.

“Not as deep as yours my sweet,” he said as he smacked me and pulled me back to him. His embrace was strong and loving.

We went to club, a private club, where he is a member. So private that its name was the SixteenTwelve, and that’s not its address. Its origins were something of a secret. It was an old house that had been totally redone into a club and apparently a few rooms that members could reserve for a night or nights. A band was playing what seemed to be mostly eighties music, post-disco, pre-rap and hip-hop.

He seemed to know everyone there and tried to introduce me to all of them. He was showing me off. I got that pretty quick and played my role, his woman. Something I was beginning to relish more and more.

We finally left and went back to his condo. The term “condo” doesn’t really do it justice. It was one of only two on that floor, three thousand square feet each.

As I walked through the door, WHACK! His hand smacked into my ass, startling me. The stinging shock caused my eyes to water. I turned around and he lightly slapped my cheek.

“You’re really just a cheap slut aren’t you!?” I was dumbfounded. “Admit it! You wanton tramp!”

Then I got it. “Yes! You’re right. I’m just a cheap trick that just craves cock. A cum slut.” I dropped to my knees and started undoing his belt while working his zipper down.

“That’s it, show your true colors, you worthless cum slut! You’re craving sucking my cock so you can feel it sliding in and out of your throat—so you can swallow my load of jizz. Aren’t you? Answer me you little bitch!”

By that point, it was already well down my throat. Slowly, teasingly removing it, I replied, “Yes Daddy. Everything you say is true. I’m worthless and just crave cock, your cock. I want your cock!” Then went back at it.

After a few minutes, he grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and spun me around. “And so you shall have my cock! Get over there.” He pointed to a chair. “Bend over that Chesterfield.” WHACK! “No panties I’ll bet. The mark of all good sluts.”

“Yes Daddy,” I said while hurrying. As I was bending he told me to spread my cheeks. Knowing what was coming, I quickly complied as he began rubbing his dick up and down my slit. Then he pulled the plug out.

“Such a slut. You're soaking wet! Your cunt juice is dripping down your legs. Such a lascivious puta!” he said as he began pushing into my ass.

“Oh god Daddy! That’s so good. I love you. Fuck my slutty ass! Make me scream.”

And so he did. Mercilessly pounding me. Making me scream and cum over and over until he finally pulled tight to me and let out that groaning growl. I felt his cock throbbing as he expelled his jizz.

We stayed connected briefly, until we’d both recovered our breath. Then he slowly pulled out and lifted me up to him. We kissed deeply. When we separated he said, “Oh Erica, I love you so much. I feel so deeply for you, as if you’re a part of me. I do hope you feel the same.”

“Luca, my darling. I love you also. The feelings overwhelm me a bit because this has happened so quickly, but I feel it as deeply as you. I’m your woman... if you want me.”

He held me even tighter. “I think we’re both lucky that we’ve found each other. Please consider moving in here, with me. I want us to be together.”

I was euphoric and highly emotional. I cried the tears of happiness. We were married a year later.

Oh, he did explain his “small yes” about his abilities. I still call them voodoo—he calls it a “special sense.” It seems there is some family history behind it, including that it skips one or more generations and only happens to male progeny. He swears I’m the first woman he’s ever used it on, at least to the degree he used it on me. He did admit to getting a “sense” of what a woman sexually desires and that he’d endeavor to fulfill them, as he did with me and my anal pleasures. It’s something that we both enjoy at various times, both appropriate and his mischievous, inappropriate times.

~~~~~A micro epilogue of their two-year anniversary dinner at Luigi’s~~~~~~

A packed restaurant. My eyes locked on his. Peripherally, I saw his middle-finger stroking in and out of his opposing fist. “No... no–no–no! Not here. Not now.” Defiance was futile—he’d never stopped once started—his abilities were strong.

My pussy was already soaking and tingling. Desperately gripping my armchair, I willed it to stop—totally pointless. My lustful cravings were intensifying relentlessly. At a nearby table, a woman looked on, concerned.

Barely controlling myself, my thighs quivered as the orgasmic spasms swept through me. Consumed with passionate exhilaration, my head dropped. Realization turned the woman's face into a wistful grin.