Boston

“In Boston they ask, how much does he know? In New York, how much is he worth? In Philadelphia, who were his parents?”
― Mark Twain

“God made women too beautiful and their memories too long.”
― David B. Lentz, Bloomsday: A Tragicomedy

Hello, I am Laura. This is my first story. The story is about a nice experience in a great city “Boston”.

Initially, this story takes place last month, the first time I went to Boston, but I’m already planning on going back for sure and have my tickets. Boston is an excellent place to visit.
We had worked in an office in the center during the summer. It was a great experience.

Anyways, I’d been talking about going with Alex who is a great friend. We jokingly call each other our work hubby and work wife. It was a nice name for us. We worked in a pretty boring office. The office was painted grey, and it had only one floor-to-ceiling window, which faced the main road. On the grey desk sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a turtle-shaped paperweight. In a corner, the air conditioner was blasting at medium, and there was a swivel chair in the middle of the office. A bookshelf, bursting with books was in a corner, with yet another stack of papers under a paperweight that was shaped to look like a tuft of grass. A few pens were lying on the papers, but some had fallen onto the top of the bookshelf.

I remember working in that office where the atmosphere of tension had become so severe and pervasive that one could barely see more than a few feet in any direction. The ceiling light still illuminated the windowless office, but it was dim and flickered at strobe-like intervals.

So, I went to the elevator. The elevator that opened directly into his private office, a huge room occupying the corner of the building with floor-to-ceiling windows giving views in two directions: Fifth Avenue to the east, Central Park just a few blocks north. The two remaining walls contained a door, a low bookshelf, and a single oil painting – a vase of flowers by Vincent van Gogh.

The black glass surface of his desk was equally uncluttered: a computer, a leather notebook, and a framed photograph of a fourteen year old boy.
He was Alex. I was in Alex`s office. His office in a state of half organized clutter, he had a mahogany desk with three drawers on the right hand side, swivel chair, mac book pro, several stacks of paperwork, pens in a tin, floor to ceiling bookshelf, books leaning against one another different directions, filling cabinet with paper work stacked on top, water dispenser with no cups. The typical office for a business man.
At this moment, Alex told me he got me a ticket.

–    Hey, this is our ticket honey. He said.
–    Sure?
–    Yeah, this is for you.
–    OMG

Anyways, he said me than he will take care of everything; all I have to do is show up and have fun. And I’m all about that, you can’t beat that offer. I was of him.

I’d never been to Boston so I started how fashion heavy it is on top of the music parts, so I decided to use it as an excuse to buy new summer clothes. The best summer clothes I thought. Boston is a cold state but at this time the weather was so cold. I needed so heavy clothe

In this time, I had a blonde hair was poker-straight and pulled back into a low pony-tail. I usually wore little make-up and was often stern, rarely joining in the jokes of the other officers. To be taken seriously I didn’t have to be equal, I had to be better and beyond reproach. More than once I considered becoming a brunette, but in only a week the honeyed roots would be showing and I had no intention of looking old.

When I saw him, he wore his jean jacket with a cigarette between his teeth; he was the type of guy you’d fall in love with, no matter how many beer bottles in his system, and no matter how many other jean jacket, aching, lonely hearts wonder around him. His charisma was embedded on his gorgeous facial features- green eyes and all- and when his lips curved up, they formed two small dimples sitting upon his cheeks. My, oh my, even his jean jacket carried his smell, and I just sat there for ages, with it embraced in my hands, wondering what to do with myself.

We got closer and closer to took off day and the whole time I thought we’d be staying in some Air BnB or something like that, but turned out Alex is big into camping and he was all this gear and loves it. I didn’t learn this until he picked me up on the way to the festival. My only job was to bring my clothes and drinks. I had a rum`s bottle for the trip.

I would describe his alcohol tastes as refined, but Alex didn’t think a predilection for in house rums counted as such. He was just a rum snob and I was a perfect drunker.

We showed up and there is this endless line with cops searching people and as we got close Alex told me he than he had a bunch of molly and edibles and wanted my help hiding them from the cops. So we stuffed the stuffed in our underwear and put on smiles as Alex’s truck got searched.

We got going and he sets up the whole camp while I sit and watch and make us a few drinks. We talked to these sorority girls next to us who hid a ton of molly in this peanut butter jar and they were cleaning it off. Alex got it all setup and as soon as it goes from pile of stuff to tent, I hop in and change into my dress with a bikini underneath and Alex then put on his trunks and tank top – he thankfully left his jorts at home.

After taking a decent dose of molly, we headed in to the show and then spent six or seven hours drinking and dancing and rolling our brains out and having a great time. It was crazy hot, but it was awesome, everyone was really happy and just partying and it was great. It was even better when the sun started going down and it cooled off. But, the problem was a sand storm started moving in.

We went to check on the tent and started seeing a ton of tents blown over and all fucked up, so we walked faster and we found a lot more turned over tents, but ours was fine cause we had plastic stakes. The headliners were going strong, but we’d taken more molly and were pretty much in the zone and didn’t want to walk all the way back to the stages, which was really far.

Alex basically shoved us into the tent to keep the sand from filling it up and we were laying on our back, and he had music playing on his phone. I was kind of zoning in and out, and the crazy horny feeling they tell you about with molly, I didn’t really have that, but I could feel my clit was pretty swollen and I was super wet even though I was fairly dehydrated. And I could scratch my head and really feel intense pleasure from it.

I was just noticing how hard my nipples were when Alex rolled over and made intense eye contact with me for a few seconds and then ran his fingers along my arm and it was kind of electric. I asked him what he was doing, and he said nothing and laid back. It was kind of disappointing. I had meant to be a bit flirty, and I think he took it as bitchy.

I said it was kind of hot and pulled my dress over my head and still had my bikini on underneath, but I was still sticky and soaked through with sweat from hours of dancing in the heat. Alex was pretty openly staring at my body at this point and I had a huge smile on my face from the molly. We were just awkwardly looking at eachother listening to his spotify playlist. Alex took off his shirt and sat up to drink water.

I sat up also, and our faces were fairly close and he leaned his cheek against mine and I moved his head and kissed him on the lips. My entire body lit up like total electricity when his tongue pushed into my mouth and I went from wet to dripping, and my clit went from swollen to completely throbbing. I was shaking a little as we kissed and it was very intense. Alex went full force and his hands were all over me in no time. I could feel his firm palms running over my sweaty back and brushing against my butt crack and over my bikini tie in the back.