Detained in NYC - Cover

Detained in NYC

Copyright© 2025 by Midori Greengrass

Chapter 23: Caged Tiger

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 23: Caged Tiger - An artist is caught up in the dragnet.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   NonConsensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   Cuckold   Wife Watching   White Male   Oriental Female   Oral Sex   AI Generated  

Tommy’s thoughts were nothing if not repetitive as his long night continued. He was in need and knew it. Akemi’s pussy could give him what he wanted. Her mouth could.

She was blowing him in his waking dreams.

What about Sophie?

What about her?

The dripping faucet in their bathroom synced with the rhythm. Each drip pulled at him. The sounds merged: Akemi’s strained breaths, the faucet’s pulse, the creak of a filing cabinet. All tightening the cord in him. All distant. She was on the other side of town, in the detention center, presumably sleeping as well, or trying to. Tommy laughed at the thought. Cruelly. His desire for her and inability to satisfy it, for now, sparked cruelty in which he couldn’t recognize himself.

She was blowing him in his waking dreams.

In bed with his wife. Who’d have thought it? And they’d fucked not two hours before. Or longer? You lost track of the time past a certain point in the night when you knew you had to get up for work. Knowing he’d be seeing that Jap detainee would put a spring in his step for sure.

That mouth. Even when angry with him (and understandably; he’d arrested her pretty much without cause), even tight with anger, he could imagine those lips loose. Those fruit-colored lips. So full. So much fire in her eyes.

A coworker of his had said about Asian women, Hamid (you couldn’t accuse him of anti-immigrant bias; he got along fine with people from different backgrounds)—Hamid, wherever he was from, devout Muslim, had said, “I don’t know how God made these people.”

Hamid’s family was from somewhere in the Middle East, and he had taken up their religion. Tommy thought that just fine, as long as he was a real American, swore allegiance to the flag and the constitution and the leadership of the man in the White House.

You couldn’t call him an egghead but he was no idiot. He even remembered a poem from high school. It had stayed with him.

“Tyger Tyger burning bright

In the forests of the night”

Yeah, Akemi reminded him of that. Her eyes did.

And her mouth.

“What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

He’d memorized it.

Those lips. Who could make that?

He wanted to make her!

Blake. William Blake. A Romantic poet, whatever that was. It was the only poem of his he’d read, just as Akemi would be the only detainee he’d felt like this about. He wanted to memorize every inch of her body and for her to do the same with his, though it was probably the last thing she wanted, for obvious reasons. She might come around though. He was handsome enough (It was Sophie who’d said she wanted to memorize every inch of his body, back when they were first making out).

And if she didn’t come around, then what would he do? That was the thing. She might need some persuading. Was he up for it?

 
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