Sex and the City

“New York City is all about sex. People getting it, people trying to get it, people who can’t get it. No wonder the city never sleeps. It’s too busy trying to get laid.”

“Carrie Bradshaw,” Sex and the City

Between college and divinity school, I served for a year as a volunteer in a parish in Manhattan. When I arrived at the church I served at, I resolved to rededicate myself to purity. I innocently believed that one who serves in the church should conduct oneself accordingly. In fact one of the conditions of volunteer service was that we would refrain from sexual immorality. Yet nothing could prepare me for New York. For a repressed Midwestern Lutheran, it was an intoxicating environment. The city oozes sex. Leggy models strutting in the fashion district, sexy secretaries on Wall St., corporate women in fuck-me pumps in Midtown — it was too much to resist. After three months of struggling to remain abstinent, I succumbed to my lust and started seeing call girls again.

“Jacqueline” was a fortysomething brunette who rode me to the sounds of Enigma. There was the French girl with the Spanish accent. The fashion student with long, pointy nipples. The full-figured girl who confessed to seducing her accounting professor and tied my hands with a pillowcase. The aspiring actress who didn’t pass the audition. And a few more.

One evening in my church office shortly before Valentine’s Day, I noticed a brief ad online:

Emma Sinclair – Beautiful. British. Upscale. Midtown. Private.

I hesitated. I had pledged to subdue my bestial instincts to loftier spiritual ideals. “But I am carnal.” I called the number listed in her ad. Unexpectedly, a woman with a refined English accent answered. I expressed my interest in arranging an engagement. She seemed a little hesitant after I provided some details about myself, but she agreed to make an arrangement for a last-minute appointment. I hurriedly prepared myself and made my way uptown in the winter night.

As instructed, I called her when I arrived at Bloomingdale’s. She gave me the address of her residence a few blocks away. I arrived a few minutes later and was buzzed into the building. An intoxicating blend of anxiety and arousal propelled me up the stairwell to her apartment. I heard the door unlock.

“Philip?”

A tall blonde in a black robe discreetly ushered me in her small apartment and invited me to sit down. The soft romantic lighting did nothing to diminish her pretty face. She asked if I had a girlfriend. My nervousness was apparent. “I won’t bite, unless you want me to,” she assured me. Her friendliness was comforting. She appreciated my politeness and good manners and the roses I brought her. I appreciated her round breasts that protruded from her robe. She engaged me in conversation to assuage my nerves. She had moved to the U.S. a few years earlier, teaching at a private school in Manhattan before taking the plunge into escorting. I complimented her on her athletic body. She credited it to the work she did with a personal trainer. Her sexiness was irresistible. Then she stood up and removed her robe, revealing a pair of black stockings and a bare mons pubis. Taking her cue, I undressed and revealed a raging hard-on.

“You are quite horny!” she said teasingly.

She put on Andrea Bocelli to set the mood. We moved to the bed. Her breasts proved irresistible. She signaled her approval as I sucked on her nipples.

“Juicy,” she sighed.

She lay me on my back. “I’m going to give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had,” she promised. She delivered on her promise as her mouth pleasured my bare cock. Sensing that I was about to come, she disengaged and reached for her bottle of Astroglide on her nightstand (upon which was also stationed a bottle of holy water). She retrieved a condom, covered me, then guided my turgid manhood inside her. I felt her grab my ass as I thrust.

“You’re cock is so hard,” she moaned.

I could feel her pussy clench my cock. My body convulsed in orgasm.

“Shall we try doggie style next time?” she tantalizingly offered afterwards.

I dressed and put my glasses back on. “Now you’re a good boy again,” she teased me. She kissed me on the cheek as I departed her apartment.

And, yes, I returned to fuck her doggie style.