Lucy Ling's Bygone Innocence

This is a standalone story, but... if you'd like to see a sequel, I'm open to suggestions!

xoxo

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Even though I had landed the internship at Goldman Sachs, there was no way I was going to be able to afford rent in Manhattan. My usually high-performing self was at a loss. Carla, one of the rich East Coast girls I had befriended since declaring Econ as my major, listened pithily to my problem then declared that she had a solution.

"My uncle is Jack Solomon, you've heard of him right? He owns a ton of apartments in New York. He would definitely want to help out someone like you," she tells me during our lecture. Holding up her phone, she loudly snapped a selfie of the two of us.

"Carla, Lucy... please," our professor admonishes from the dais below.

"Sorry professor... Won't happen again," Carla calls back. How does she gets away with being such a chaotic person? Being a gorgeous and a tease probably helps.

"He wanted to see what you look like," she explains.

"Your uncle? Why?"

"I dunno. Probably so the doorman can recognize you."

Doorman? I've never lived anywhere with a doorman before. Is that something they do?

"What kind of Airbnbs are these anyway?"

"Hold on... he's getting back to me... Oh, he says you can actually stay at his penthouse, which is convenient because it's right next to the Goldman building. I think he's usually in and out so it's all yours for the summer," Carla says with fanfare.

Incredulous, I thank her profusely, not believing how quickly my dilemma, one which I'd been agonizing for weeks by myself, was waved away by money, by having the right connections. Connections. That was a lesson I was still learning since plunging into this world of finance, hedge funds, and investment banking.

"Miss Ling? We've been expecting you," the impossibly beautiful blonde woman at the palatial front desk mews. It's week later and I'm arriving at Carla's uncle's building on West Street in downtown Manhattan. Greeting me is a row of ladies who seem to match the lavish marble interior of the lobby where wealthy men and women stride forth. Each of the hostesses exude confidence and beauty tinged with something underneath that makes the bustling atmosphere even more dynamic (... a subtle submissiveness? And perhaps, the glow of youthful fertility?)

"... And right over there is the lounge... right below there is the whiskey bar... the gym is that way..." I'm barely keeping up, taking it all in. "Here are your set of keys to Mr. Solomon's suite. Would you like some assistance with your luggage?" She smiles expectantly.

"No need. I've got it," I give a lopsided smile and soon enough I'm being jettisoned upward through the brass walnut elevator and to my new home for the summer.

How could I ever repay Mr. Solomon's generosity? As nice as this all is, there's no doubt I'll be at the office mostly and never enjoy the abundance of amenities here. Still, I should do something nice, like bake some cookies or something.

I'm thinking about all the errands I need to run when slowly and quite unexpectedly, my mind drifts back to the gorgeous, servile, taut, impeccably groomed women behind the front desk. Is that the standard for feminine beauty here? That blonde hostess... after hours... I bet if one of these wealthy men asked her, she'd bend right over, unzip that tight skirt, be more than happy to... Lucy, what the hell are you doing.

This is the flustered state I'm in when I enter Jack Solomon's penthouse and am sufficiently taken aback by the decor. The floor plan is entirely open. A huge, modern space. Impossibly high ceilings. That's all par for the course. What's startling is the decor. In one corner, an expansive shelf displays katanas, Chinese calligraphy, scrolls of art and text... In another, there's some sort of indoor zen garden with authentic-seeming furniture, maybe imported from Japan? Against that is a catwalk of sorts, lined with mannequins adorned with all sort of intricate Asiatic garb. There are kimonos and other light silky robes and dresses. On the walls, gigantic portraits of what look like geishas framed in sensual poses... To say this man has an interest in Asian aesthetics would be... a huge understatement.

"Carla you idiot," I say under my breath. There's no way this would bode well for me. My kind, well-connected benefactor now, in my mind, morphs into a strange, menacing older man.

My room is decorated in the same Asian-obsessed style and as the weeks go by, me alone in this monument, I begin to see that while some things have a Disneyland-like garishness about them, other pieces, take the jades and ceramics for instance, have the air of a collector's hand.

I have no time really to ponder this. The internship kills me. An attractive, 20 year old petite Asian girl walking into that building of bullish male aggression is akin to throwing fresh, tender meat to the piranhas. Older men unabashedly undressed me with their eyes, tearing away the stockings covering my smooth, fit legs, searing into my bleached white blouse that concealed my perky tits, disrobing my satin black skirt that stretched cloyingly over my ass (surprisingly sizable for my slight frame).

I begin to dress and prim myself more like these New York women. I'd never been one to dress provocatively but I buy a tight black cocktail dress for an upcoming company party. I don't usually wear makeup but I go to the nearby salon where they completely make me over, teaching me how to accentuate my features.

"Lucy? My my, I barely recognize you." I'm at the sultry, dimly-lit underground whiskey bar that's attached to Mr. Solomon's building where a stout man approached me. I recognize him to be one of my manager's colleagues.

"Oh, Mr. Davidson, hello there," I put on a pleasant smile and brush some hair from my eyes. My hair is in a loose bun save for two silky black strands that frame my face.

"Why do you look so different?" He slurs. He's clearly had a lot of whiskey.

"Oh maybe it's the makeup..." I also had my cocktail dress on. I had come down from my room for a bitters and soda after an especially hellish day.

"Soda, at a whiskey bar? No no no that won't do. Let me get you something better."

"That's so kind but I'm actually not 21 yet," I say softly.

"Oh, is that so?" He eyes me filthily. I usually rely on my inexperience and naivety to deter men from coming on to me, but something about his demeanor makes me feel like he won't easily leave me alone.

He asks me about how work's been so I start describing this particularly exhausting week.

"Jefferson's an asswipe," he scoffs, "you know, Ms. Ling, if someone with your particular set of skills wanted to transition to my side of the office, I can certainly make that happen."

"Really Mr. Davidson?" It would be a significant set up for a student intern.

"Of course, you were one of our top scoring, most attractive candidates..." He inches closer to me, his eyes have a strange glazed expression as he analyzes me, slowly eyeing the smooth crevice between my thighs.

"Well, I.. that would certainly be... I mean... I would be..."

"Ms. Ling, you know... we don't have many... girls like you in the office." He's not much larger than me and his head is level to mine. I can smell the whiskey on his breath. He's practically drooling.

Frightened and a bit nauseated, I try to scoot away but he reaches for my waist with a hairy hand. I look around and see a large man to the booth next to me. I see his eyes scan the situation and quickly understand. He strides over, quick for his size.

"Alright chief, that's enough..." he growls as he waves a waiter over. They escort a pacified Davidson away and the large man returns.

"I think I know that prick," he says. "How are you, miss?"

"Oh... I was... Thanks for that." I take the man in while sipping on my soda. He's much older, tall and broad shouldered. Immediately I feel my face flush as his masculine aura envelopes mine. He could easily pick me up, overpower me.

He sits across from me and begins to probe me intensely. I answer timidly. The bartender brings us two whiskies.

"Go on," he says firmly, sliding the tiny cup over in his big hands. I drink it all without complaint.

"I should probably retire to my suite," I say, checking the time, eager to leave before I find out what this large man wants from me.

"Ah, me as well. Please..." he gestures for the door. I thank him for the drink and head to the elevators... He's right behind me.

"Top floor please," he says.

"But... that's my suite," I say involuntarily, surprised.

He gives me a smirk. "Don't you mean Mr. Solomon's suite?"

"Oh my... Mr. Solomon, I had no idea!" I realize I had never actually seen a picture of him before.

"Have you been enjoying the space?"

I pause briefly, almost mentioning the strangeness of the decor, and catch myself, "yes... Yes! I've never stayed somewhere so... spacious."

"Good," he says, "I want you to be comfortable."

"Although I haven't been able to enjoy it much since I'm away a block away."

"Have you always been so focused on career and work? Have you had time for anything else?"

I scoff, "not much else."

He nods, opening the grand doors. He beckons me over to the open bar and pours another drink for himself.

"But still, you find time to work out quite a bit, dont you... Your body is quite lean, good for you." he says, towering behind the bar, scanning my body thoroughly.

"Oh, thank you," I say shyly.

"By the way Lucy I actually have a date coming over later tonight."

"Oh? Should I..."

"No you don't need to go anywhere, we'll be in my room. You'll barely notice us. Unless you want to..."

"Huh?"

"From the zen garden there, you can actually see directly into my bedroom... Have you noticed that, my dear?"

"... I..."

"I've been seeing Kaylee for a few weeks now. Such a nice tight little body, petite frame, just like you. And you know, I take such good care of her... She loves begging to be fucked."

Even though I'm taken aback by his vulgarity, I can't help, for a second, imagining the blonde girl at the front desk, naked but for a kimono, ass up, begging to be impaled as Mr. Solomon's huge torso hunkers over her small body.

"Mr. Solomon, it's getting late..."

"You're thinking about it, aren't you, my sweet, innocent girl." He says in a smooth baritone. "The thing is though, I actually can't give her what she wants. You'll see what I mean.

Really, she's just a placeholder. A pale substitute. My cock isn't even half hard when I'm with her and the poor thing still slobbers up and down my flaccid cock, worshipping it like a desperate bitch in heat. But no matter how hard she tries, she'll never be able to properly satisfy me."

At the mention of his cock I feel a dryness in my throat. "Why is that?"

"Lucy, you should know I have a particular taste for finer things... That's why only tight, young Asian pussy could ever satisfy me." Mr. Solomon walks out from behind the bar, still holding his drink and from my position seated behind the bar, my head comes up to his belly, where an enormous bulge is tenting his pants, traveling under his belt and under his starched shirt. He sees my wordless expression and sets his drink down, beginning to slowly untuck and unbutton his shirt. His slightly curved, uncut member, pressed up angrily against his belly, grows and stretches up to his ribs. Even with the bottom half covered by his pants, it's the biggest, fattest cock I've ever seen.

Involuntarily, my hand falls to my lap, reaching for... for... I don't know what. He catches this motion with his eyes and smirks.

"Look at how hard just the thought of your tight slit has made me, Lucy," he moans slightly as he fondles the huge head of his penis with one hand, "just even seeing that fit, tiny body of yours in that dress. Fuck... Even among Asian girls, you're the most attractive I've never seen... Do you know how many times I've stroked my cock to that photo of you Carla sent me... Knowing you'd be here in my house..."

My face is blush red. It feels like my entire body is made out of putty, vibrating. The picture of this gigantic, dominating mature man standing in front of me salivating over my hot young body... I never thought I would be in this position.

Just then his phone rings. One hand still on his angry cock, he checks the phone.

"Kaylee's almost here..." He pants, stroking madly, "but first... hold out your hand, darling. That's right, just like that. What an obedient little girl."

He comes close and just like that, with a controlled, mighty, shuddering heave, he explodes into my tiny cupped hands. His cum begins overflowing immediately and splattering on the hardwood floor. Mr. Solomon lets out an animalistic roar and from within me I hear a noise I don't recognize. It's half a cry of disgust and half a moan of intense pleasure. I'm not certain but I might have cum a little then as well.

"A sweet, innocent girl, now aren't you?" He pants, grinning devilishly, zipping himself up and going to foyer to retrieve his date.

Stunned, I rush into my room and kick the door closed. I hear the two of them laughing and making small talk as they enter the living chamber.

I lean against to the wall, legs shaking, exhausted. My hand is still cupping Mr. Solomon's cum, now dribbling all over my dress. Fuck, that was so intense. He showed me exactly how much he desired me. And thinking back to the night, there's no way I would've let tiny, drunk Davidson do anything with me, but Mr. Solomon... if he wanted me he could simply take it. I'm living in his house. I'm eating his food. And it turns out, only I can give him what he needs.

That thought makes my pussy hot and wet. What turns me on is that he's right. From playing with myself I know how tight my vagina is. It's difficult, although incredibly pleasurable, to insert even two slim fingers inside, as I sometimes do.

Only this taut, tight, young, Asian pussy could ever satisfy Mr. Solomon's massive cock. Why be a bitch, Lucy, and not give him what he's rightfully claimed.

The image of Mr. Solomon's huge dick is seared into my mind. "Mmm.. Wow Mr. Solomon, you came so much... from your massive cock," I start to touch myself, lubricated by his cum. My sweaty body slides down the wall until I'm sprawled with my legs spread, hands thrusting... My two cum drenched fingers can only fit about halfway into my pussy... I'm babbling like a crazed woman, moaning and whispering to myself. "Mr. Solomon, mmmm, I'm fingering myself with your cum... let me corrupt my perfect little Asian slit with your hot, mature cum... You love young Asian girls pussy don't you...You fucking deserve it... Take it.... Take it Mr. Solomon... You deserve it... You... AHmmMMm!!"

My thighs spasm as I cum, harder than I've ever come before. Laying on the floor, catching my breath, my curiosity gets the better of me. Stripping off my cum-stained dress and donning an oversized sweater and shorts, I tiptoe to the zen garden, where, from a balcony skylight, I can see clearly into Mr. Solomon's bedroom.

Even though my body was still recovering from that intense orgasm, the sight of Mr. Solomon's huge body naked made me feel hot for the second time tonight. His demeanor was totally different. He seemed totally in control, unbothered, apathetic almost as Kaylee worked her little tongue up and down his sizable, flaccid penis. No doubt she was impressed, even with his barely erect dick, but I wonder if she'd ever even seen Mr. Solomon's full endowment? After a while, he seemed to get bored and started playing some porn on the TV next to his bed. I stayed and watched quietly and attentively as he stroked himself to a video of a petite Asian girl being rammed by a giant cock. Mr. Solomon's penis was half-erect when he, seeming tired, came on Kaylee's desperate, expectant face. I scurried away as they began to dress.

So it was true. Kaylee was objectively sexy, but she had barely an effect on him when just the sight of me in my cocktail dress and the thought of my pussy gave him a rare, full erection the size of which shocked me.

The next day he was gone with no indication that he'd return anytime soon. Something in me had changed though. I began to go to his room every night, innocently, under the pretense that I was just exploring the house. I looked into his porn collection and sampled dozens of his favorite videos, taking great care not to cum on his sheets. I started using his home gym, doing squats each morning. My body became even more toned and my ass even more tight and defined.

The next time we crossed paths, I was squatting in my pink sports bra and tights when he slowly opened the door to the home gym. I could see him in the mirror behind me, watching my body as I traveled up and down, sticking my ass out straight, camel toe clearly visible, struggling with the weight. I got the sense that he did not want me to talk, only perform for him.

I eyed him loosely and watched the bulge steadily grow in his pants. Then, like that first night, he reached for his cock and began stroking... From the mirror, I watched the veiny purple head of his cock desperately, as if feeling every stroke myself.

A visible dark patch grew from my pussy and stained by pink tights as I continued to squat with perfect form. A strand of midnight black hair fell across my face as I felt a small stream of my pussy juice slowly begin to drip along my left thigh.

He began to walk closer to me and with reach step his strokes became faster and faster. In the mirror, the sheer difference in size between the two of us was massive. I was awed, losing myself in his raw masculinity.

"Mr. Solomon... It's so big," I mew, not able to hold it in, surprising myself. And then he cums, moaning deeply and passionately, shuddering, showering, drenching my entire back with his molten hot seed.

He wipes himself off and exits. Leaving me catching my breath. I run to my room, lock the door and masturbate furiously until I convulse with pleasure, wet with drool, sweat, and Mr. Solomon's semen....

One evening, as I'm washing dishes, I hear the front door open.

"I baked some chocolate chip cookies, Mr. Solomon. Please have some," was the first thing I could think to say.

"Good girl, that's sweet of you," he says, taking off his leather shoes.

I have on an oversized sweater, lacy bra, and yoga pants. Obediently, without really thinking, I sit down on the couch with both my legs folded to one side, torso leaning slightly forward, looking expectantly as if saying, "hi there... look at me, see how ready I am to take your cum, please unload your hot, manly seed on my body."

He stops before me, pants already tenting... "I've had a long day, dear." He sits down on the couch, manspreading, taking my body in.

"You look like you're... expecting something, Lucy... is everything ok?"

"Oh yeah, I know how crazy it can get. Even as an intern they work me so hard... At your level, I... I can't even imagine." Then, feeling the heat of my body rising, I ask innocently, "is there anything I can do to help? Should I bring you a cookie?"

Mr. Solomon chuckles, "it's okay. Come here, dear. Why don't you sit on my lap?"

Giggling slightly, I scoot over and clamber onto Mr. Solomon's massive body. I can't believe I'm sitting on him. His body is rock hard and his cock digs into my ass crack and up my back. I can't even imagine what's he's thinking now that he's feeling my tight little body.

"So light, babygirl.. Are you even real?" He moans greedily and guides my tiny hands to his zipper. I start unzipping and, like pulling a tough root out of the ground, unearth his erect cock. It feels hot to the touch. I can feel it pulsating. Mr. Solomon's thick, juicy cock erupts from below, cradling me, his masculine hardness pressed firmly and snugly against my sweater.