Detained in NYC
Copyright© 2025 by Midori Greengrass
Chapter 23
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 23 - 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
Some guys did sexually harass her, it was true, or played games. She went to a weekend art event and another of the attendees staying at the same hotel as her, a big guy, portly, with hair on his stomach- not attractive- had kept asking her when she was leaving her room, at first in a friendly way, then annoyed, then even threatening, as if Akemi owed it to him to alert her when she went out, let him know every time.
And all attendees were given a merch bag which included a bottle of water, and as a practical joke someone had switched hers with a dildo, big banana-like one, realistic rubber, with veins. She’d discovered it when waiting in a theater for an art film (speaking of Nelson) with a girlfriend (who also saw the thing, at the same time as her). Akemi had been conversing with another person, seated to their right, away from her friend on the left, Indian guy, expert but not in art, something like molecular biology- nice guy but he kept on talking- and Akemi didn’t want him to see the object, which she hadn’t even recognized at first, she’d only felt with her hand lifting it from the merch bag, not looking at it; it was roughly the same size and shape as the plastic water bottle, huge. She thought she couldn’t put it back in the bag without attracting the attention of the man (who kept on speaking), so she discreetly moved it to the side of her seat, on the left, opposite side than it had been when she removed it from the bag, on her right where the man sat. He was thirtyish, light-skinned Indian, handsome confident, enthusiastic about his career, like a jet aimed to the future. He hadn’t been harassing her of course.
But the immigration policeman named Tommy wasn’t the only one.
With Nelson it hadn’t been harassment, or if it was she wanted it.
When Akemi first touched Nelson’s penis, which had become impossible to overlook, she said without words, “I know this is here and am not surprised or bothered by it. Why shouldn’t I acknowledge, like it? Do you think I’m so unsophisticated?” Just what Nelson wanted to hear, with or without words.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” he finally asked. Acknowledging Akemi was married and her husband his friend.
“This?” Akemi played it coy, suggesting he meant the thing under her hand.
Nelson didn’t press his question, satisfied with Akemi’s non-answer.
“The tea can wait, right?” Akemi said nothing. “Do you think?”
It was the first time he had asked her opinion. Nelson usually overlooked others’ feelings but his for Akemi now, his desire, changed things.
Nelson heard himself, laughed a little defensively. He’d sounded almost plaintive.
Akemi hadn’t expected that.
Rather than pursue conversation, she turned away to look again at the tea bags on the table in their wrappers struck by light from the window.
Nelson followed, turned as well, behind Akemi, leaning, brought his hand to her upper back then her shoulder then around front slid it under her purple-violet halter top, which sparkled in the sun entering the quiet room.
“I’ve been looking at those,” he said. “I want to film them.”
He wasn’t talking about the tea bags, the decoration on the paper covering, delicate yellow, ochre filigree motif.
His fingers slid on Akemi’s breasts. He liked her smell. New smell.
“Feels like silk.”
“It’s the way you’re touching,” Akemi said.
Nelson brought her hand back to him, levered her wrist.
Akemi felt him breathe in the scent of her hair.
Nelson hoped his breath smelled good to her. He was bold but had the insecurities of any man.
“Ow,” Akemi said.
“It hurts?”
“Because strange angle.” She didn’t remove her hand from him but turned toward him again so the angle was right.
“Feels better?”
“Mm.” Akemi’s palm cupped him.
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