Ellen in Brooklyn Heights

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I’d had an extraordinary run of luck ever since I’d gotten back to New York City. From the last week in February to now, the first week in August, I’d bedded 16 women. Since I was working in one political campaign after another and it was 1970 (that is, the end of the 60s), they just kept marching up to me, one after the other. Of the 16, only five were still in college. The rest were older, in their twenties and working, closer to my age of 27.

When I was teaching on the student ship, I’d gone through a phase of wanting nothing but virgins. They were very willing and full of energy but sexually naïve and easily shed, because I insisted they learn how to please future lovers.

Now I was thinking about a relationship where my mind didn’t wander to getting out of it. Because campaign work paid poorly and didn’t last long, I was looking for a teaching job but had no luck. A friend who worked for the city said I might get a job through the Mayor’s office but not until after the first of the year.

It was a hot August Saturday morning and I was in charge of getting volunteers out on the streets of Manhattan to solicit signatures on petitions. I’d asked every one I knew to lend a hand, including a college friend, who asked if he could bring his girlfriend along.

“Sure, Larry, so long as she’s registered to vote.”

“Absolutely! She’s very anti-Vietnam war and wants to get an anti-war Senator elected.”

All the volunteers were given a clipboard and a stack of blank petitions. We asked everyone to come back to our 57th Street headquarters by two o’clock with their signed petitions, so we could log them in.

Larry and his girlfriend didn’t get back until almost three, but they made up for it by having more completed petitions than anyone else. And no wonder — the girlfriend was a stunner. She was 5-foot-7 with shoulder-length black hair. She stood very tall and her flawless complexion, almost perfectly oval face, and sharp outfit of slacks and a short-sleeved blouse made her a standout for the work.

“Pete, Ellen is fearless! She just goes right up to people and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. She got so many people willing to sign that she passed them off to me and kept on going. How many did we get?”

“We’ll have to count them, but your stack is the biggest I’ve seen all week.”

“I can’t stay. I have to work most of the weekend at the agency on a presentation that’s due Monday.”

“Ellen, can you stay to help count these? We have to close up pretty soon.”

“Sure, I’ve got all day.”

She plunked herself down on the office floor and started counting. Every girl I’ve ever known would sit on the floor by kneeling, then sitting back on her heels. Ellen knelt but then splayed her legs out, keeping her knees properly together. The result was breath-taking.

My log-in system was to pencil a sequential number for the petition in the upper left corner and write the number of valid signatures in the upper right corner. The name of the witness and the totals of sheets and signatures were put on a cover sheet, the petitions were clipped together, and everything was logged in a ledger book. It was simple but detailed work that I wasn’t in the habit of letting unknown volunteers do, but there were so many petitions that I needed the help.

Ellen caught on and between the two of us we had what should have taken me three hours finished in one.

“You’re good. Want a job?” I said to her. I didn’t have that authority, but I figured she was already working.

“Thanks, Peter, but I already have one, at Sullivan Brothers. Probably pays better anyway.”

“What’s Sullivan Brothers?”

It’s a very big brokerage firm. We have four floors in the World Trade Center. I work in the swaps department, where we manage accounts of clients who have to keep a certain amount of bonds on hand for liquidity purposes. We know what their position is and, if we have a client who wants to sell a bond that has a higher yield than another client has it in its portfolio, we will swap them. We make money when we re-sell the bond. It’s intricate but very lucrative.”

And you’re a swapper?”

“I’m a registered broker, yes, but I work for the head of the department, mostly logging the deals and managing the details. So your system makes perfectly good sense to me.”

I was in love.

Since Larry had essentially turned Ellen over to me, I suggested we walk up to Central Park and get an ice cream. We found a shady spot under a tree and talked.

“I graduated from Smith in ’69 with a major in economics. I really like campaigning. In the ’68 election we had an all-Smith group that toured western Massachusetts with the anti-war candidate for Congress. We went ahead of the candidate and entertained the crowd until the candidate arrived.

“We had this routine when we bought gas. When the attendant came up to the driver’s side we’d surprise him by sing ‘a dollar’s worth of gas’ over and over. It was a hoot!

“I got a secretary’s job at Sullivan, which sounds more insulting than it was, since everybody there, canlı bahis including Billy Sullivan, the chairman’s son, started in the mailroom. I took the classes for my brokerage license and scored higher than Billy.” She beamed.

“Manny in swaps got me assigned to his group. It’s very high pressure work, because if the ticket for each swap isn’t right we can either lose money on the deal or lose the client because he thinks we’re cheating him.”

We went to dinner at a small restaurant near my Upper East Side apartment. Ellen lived in a house in the East Village with several friends, one of whom was the owner. She shared a room.

“I want to get a place in Brooklyn Heights, so I can take the subway directly to work. Now I have to walk pretty far to the subway, go four stops, then walk all the way over to the Trade Center. But it’s really tough finding a place there.”

I invited her to see my place, which was a large studio, to compare it to what she had seen in Brooklyn. My apartment was a walkup on the third floor, but it was safe, had an air conditioner, and by New York City standards was inexpensive. We talked real estate and various neighborhoods for a while. She was adamant about Brooklyn Heights.

It was after nine when she said she had to catch a train to Westchester because she had promised her parents that she would have brunch with them.

“I’ll drive you. You’ll have to navigate, though, since I’ve only driven through Westchester, going somewhere else.”

Her parents’ house was in Ardsley, where she had grown up. They weren’t there when we arrived but would be soon.

“When you come to the city tomorrow, will you call me? I’d like to have dinner again.” I wrote my number on a scrap of paper.

“That sounds nice, Peter, I’ll call from Grand Central.” I kissed her and she returned it.

When she called around three, Ellen was at the 77th Street station, close to my apartment. “There’s an exhibit at the Frick I’d like to see. Can I drop my stuff at your place?”

“Sure, come on over.”

We walked to the museum but arrived so near to closing time that we couldn’t see the entire exhibit. We walked into Central Park and sat on a stone wall to people-watch, and talked some more.

“Larry said you went to Dartmouth, just a year ahead of him. I went there for Carnival once. You guys really like snow.”

“I really do. But New York’s where I want to be.” I explained about the temporary nature of campaign work and the small staffs that legislators had, which made any job prospects in politics dim.

“I’d really like to teach, but I’m thinking of going to work for the City. I’ve got a friend who thinks I can get a job there, but they’re not hiring until after the first of year. I’m committed to the campaign until November, but after that, maybe I can swing it.”

We walked back to my apartment along the side streets, talking about how much we liked the crowded neighborhoods, with all their shops. In the dusty window of a pawn shop she spotted a small Georg Jensen piece.

“I really like his jewelry. I’ll have to come back here.”

The air conditioning was welcome after the heat of the sidewalks. I liked to have visitors take off their shoes to keep the street grit off my rug. I slipped out of my loafers and knelt down to help her with her sneakers. I stroked the instep of her foot and she responded, slightly.

When I stood and reached for her, she was ready. We kissed long and hard, her tongue meeting mine and her hips coming into my erection with no hesitation.

We sat on the daybed and worked each other’s shirts off pretty quickly. We were breathing heavily as I manfully failed to find the catch on back of her bra.

“It opens in the front. Here,” she said, and popped her two lovely melons out. She tossed the bra on top of our shirts on the chair.

We lay beside each other. I kissed her nipples and soon she was “ummmm”-ing and “aaaah”-ing. She tickled my nipples, first with her finger and then with her tongue. She ran her fingers through my beard to my earlobes and stuck her tongue in my ear. I quivered, since that was a very sensitive place.

“Like that?” she said.

“You’ve found a secret erogenous zone. Care to tell me where there’s one on you?”

“Nope, you’ll have to find it yourself.”

We stood up. Her slacks and panties flew off and she did mine equally fast. We stood there panting and looking at each other.

“You have the longest legs, Ellen. I can’t wait to feel them around me.”

We crashed together and I pulled her buttocks into me. She ground herself into my pelvis. I pulled the cover off the daybed, revealing the well-made bed below.

“Ellen, come to bed with me,” I invited.

“I’m-a-virgin-but-I’m-on-the-pill,” she said.

Damn! I really wanted this woman. Last night I’d jacked off to how she sat on the floor. Now I was going to have to go through the whole training thing again.

“That’s fine, Ellen. Here, come lie with me.”

While Ellen knew a lot about the above-the-waist world, below the waist bahis siteleri she was hesitant. She didn’t do much when I fingered her and found she was wet. When I had her kiss me down my front and had her fondle my balls, she squeezed them, hard.

I screamed.

“Oh Peter, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s no way to treat a boy’s erogenous zone, Ellen,” I said as my pain subsided. She giggled, and I was relieved and encouraged by this easy response to what could have been a difficult situation. She touched my cock again.

“Is this an erogenous zone?”

“You bet. Will you kiss the tip?”

She rose to her knees and moved her mouth to the shaft, which bounced away.

“Should I hold it?” she asked.

“Oh yes, yes, take it in your hand and hold it steady,” I said, semi-coherently, since I was playing with her breasts and waiting for the wonderful feeling of her mouth on my cock. “Kiss the top.”

She kissed it hesitantly, then stopped entirely. “More, use your tongue, please Ellen, get it really wet, take it into your mouth.”

She slathered up the head but wouldn’t take it any further. This was about as far as I was willing to sustain an interest in education. I wanted her now.

“That is so nice, Ellen. Please lie down.”

She lay beside me and I spread her thighs. Her pussy was neatly trimmed and the lips protruded ever so slightly. I moved between her legs and leaned over to kiss her. She arched her back and grabbed me.

“We’re going to make love now, Ellen. I’m going to enter you. Will you help me?” I said.

“Yes. How?”

“I’ll move my cock to your opening, you steer it inside. We’ll do it slowly.”

I pushed my hips toward her opening and put a finger inside to spread the lips. My cock was close enough but off to one side. Ellen shifted her hips and moved the head toward her opening, and the tip of the head entered her a little bit.

“There. Oh Ellen, that’s very nice. Now I’m going to push in a little bit more.”

“Oh. Oh. Uhhhh” was all she said, and I was completely in, with absolutely no sensation of resistance.

I balanced above her, looking for a reaction on her face. She was flushed and slightly sweaty but her expression was of surprise, even puzzlement. There was no indication of pain.

“Is there more?” she asked.

“Oh yes, Ellen, there is a lot more. But you’ve discovered another one of my erogenous zones.” She giggled.

I retreated slightly and her face showed panic.

“I’m just starting our lovemaking, Ellen. I’ll push back in and you lift your hips to meet me. Like this,” and I moved forward.

“I’ll pull back and you drop your hips. This is going to be wonderful.”

We got a rhythm going quickly. Once she realized she didn’t have to push off with her hands, she grabbed my ass and pulled me in to her. After a few thrusts and the exchange of lots of kisses, I paused at the height of my retreat.

“No! Peter! No! Come back in!” I leered at her. “Now I have you under my power. You are my sex slave.”

“We’ll see about that. Ooooooh,” and she lost interest in chat as her feelings took over.

My tension was building and I speeded up my thrusts. Ellen humped up harder and harder to meet my obvious excitement.

“I’m going to cum, Ellen, soon, very soon, make me cum, Ellen, that’s so gooooood.” I blasted into her.

“Do it, Peter, do it, all the way, it’s so nice, soooooooo nice.”

I collapsed on her and started to roll to the side. She clamped her thighs against me and held me tight with her arms. “Peter, I’m not letting you go, I love this so much, you’re not leaving me.”

As my cock softened, Ellen realized that something had changed and she let me roll off. We lay looking into each other’s eyes and kissing lightly.

“Ellen, you are a wonderful lover. That was so good.” Just then my cock slipped out and her face showed sadness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Peter. No one’s every gotten to me the way you did these last two days. Do you know how nice a guy you are?”

We went into the bathroom and she held my cock as I peed. She was shy about my watching her, but I insisted and she went along. I ran my washcloth in warm water and cleaned her up and she cleaned me off. As the cum dripped out of her she cupped her hand and collected a small puddle.

“This is us?”

“Yes. Taste it.”

“That’s icky, no,” and she washed her hands.

We surveyed the damage to the bed. There was a remarkably large blood spot on the sheet, so we took it off and I cold-washed it in the kitchen sink. As I scrubbed she stepped behind me and grabbed my flaccid cock. She pressed her hips into me.

“Can we do that again, Peter?”

“Till the end of time, as far as I’m concerned. Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Yes I will, but I have to go to my apartment for my business clothes.” We worked out that she could leave around 5:30 in the morning, take the subway downtown, and still be at work on time. Since it wasn’t even 9 o’clock, though, there was a lot of time for lovemaking.

I bahis şirketleri had three sets of sheets but, as I hadn’t done laundry in two weeks, the only bottom sheet in the drawer was one with a dried blood spot, the result of a miscalculated period of a previous girlfriend. I was mortified to bring it out.

“I don’t think I’m the first girl you’ve had in your bed, Peter. It’s okay.”

We made the bed and lay down to play with each other. Ellen had the most extraordinarily soft hairs on her belly, running from her navel to her bush. I got lost in them as I slowly ran my fingers and then my lips from top to bottom.

“That is so wonderful, Ellen. This is going to be my favorite place.”

My erection was returning and she stroked it. I kissed inside her thighs and inserted my finger in her pussy. She shifted.

“Did that hurt?”

“When you pushed inside me I didn’t feel too much pain, but I did feel full. I was ready for it to hurt a lot and it didn’t. Right now it is more a stinging sensation than pain.”

“I’m glad. That will make tonight so much easier.”

I moved between her legs and slid backwards so that my face was in her pussy.

“I’m going to make you cum now, Ellen. Do you feel this?” and I lapped her lips.

“That’s dirty, Peter. It’s where I pee.”

“No it’s not. Dirty I mean. Remember, I pee out of my cock, and there wasn’t a problem with that, was there? We each have shut-off valves inside us. So long as we keep ourselves clean, we’ll be fine.”

She let me continue and I worked her with my finger and searched for her clitoris. I found it under a heavy lid of skin and worked it with my tongue and finger. At first Ellen lay there, occasionally shifting her hips, but all I heard was her breathing. As I got her clit out from its hood, though, she took more interest.

“What’s that, Peter?”

“That’s your clitoris. You’ve never felt it before?”

“No. What is it?”

“It’s probably the most excitable place on your body. And for you, that’s saying a lot,” I said, and patted her bush. “I’m going to bring it out and give you an orgasm.”

“Peter, I’ve never had an orgasm.”

It was hard work getting her clit to stay out of the fold of skin. Ellen’s inhibition about her pussy was also working against her pleasure, but pleasure was winning out, in part because I had gotten her clit out and it was between my lips. I was sucking and tonguing it.

“Oh, I’ve never felt that. That’s nice,” she coo’d. I was in no position to speak but I “ummmm”-ed and put a hand under her ass and squeezed.

After a while she began to tense and she arched her back, then she swung her hips a little bit, then some more. When she arched up suddenly and closed her thighs on my head I knew I had gotten to her.

“Oh my — oh my — that’s sooooo nice. Don’t stop, that’s so nice, don’t stop, oooooooooh.”

She was stunned by her first-ever orgasm. When she subsided I came out from between her legs and lay beside her, kissing the sweat from her face.

“Where did that come from? That isn’t sex.”

“That is too sex,” I said indignantly. “We’re going to do all sorts of things you don’t know about.”

I returned for her clit and found that it hadn’t retreated completely under the hood, so I worked it some more. Soon she was gasping and thrusting her hips. She grabbed my head and forced it into her pussy, greedily wanting all I could give her.

When she came, she swung her hips and twisted her whole body. She was sweating profusely now and some of it came down her belly and dripped into her bush and mixed with her juices. I loved it.

She drifted down from her orgasm but I kept on tonguing.

“Stop Peter, stop, you’re hurting me.”

I moved up beside her and held her in my arms.

“I would never hurt you, Ellen. This is what lovers do. You just had two orgasms. When I cum, the muscles in my penis spasm, pushing the semen out the hole on the head, and I am in exquisite agony. Your orgasm is much different than mine. Your clitoris is very sensitive.”

She lay silent for a while.

“I don’t know, Peter. I think I like sex better. Can we do that now?”

“Sure. Would you like to ride me?”

“Show me.”

I rolled her on top of me and she quickly figured out how to get my cock into her. She began to slide up and down and watched my face as I got excited.

“Ellen, you can make me cum with what you’re doing. Does it feel good for you too?”

“Oh yes, it really does. I like watching it going in and out.” She quickened her pace and I pushed my hips against her as she dropped down.

“Do that again, that’s neat,” she said, and we swirled our hips.

I didn’t give much warning that I was cumming, but she didn’t seem to care. She just rode my cock up and down as I tried to hold my cumming. When I blasted she was licking her lips and saying “you’re so good Peter so good it’s so good.”

She slowly slid onto my chest. She coughed and my cock popped out of her. “Oh no! I want it inside! put it back inside!” We struggled and returned it to her.

It was time to shower. We soaped and washed. We watched the cum trickle down her thighs. We both wanted more, but it was getting late. I could go in at noon, but she had to be at her desk by 8.

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