Balcony.

by sextails

It’d been a long day. Trawling galleries, art museums, those little shops we all love and dart into glancing around hoping no one sees. The canals glistened in the sun, the city a buzz with the sense of autumn, the leaves falling on the paths, café’s full of people wrapped up in jumpers and scarfs, hot drinks, smoking, that scent we all know so well, so distinguishable…

We’d walked down the district, staring into the windows, at the girls, the lights, the cinemas, the live shows – a sense of sex, of tension, of openness crackling in the air around us. The girls were hot, stupidly hot, clad in underwear, suspenders, done up to the nines, and posing in their windows, staring with eyes full of desire, with mouths pursed and pouting – cock hungry.

His hand grazed my arse as we walked along the streets, slid between my legs in the theatre, watching girls cavort in front of us, his mouth finding mine kissing me hard, his eyes giving me that, “come here” stare. We practically skipped back to the hotel; River front, looking out over the houseboats, the endless bridges and street lamps. We darted past the concierge, kissed in the lift, his hand sliding under my shirt to my naked breasts, nipping my nipples between his fingers. I laid my head back against the mirror, took his hand and ran down the corridor.

We struggled with the key in the lock, his hard on pressed against my arse as I bent over the lock, trying desperately to get in. As soon as the door closed he was on me, pushing me against the wall, kissing me, pulling my shirt off, desperate to have me.

I kissed him back, removed his shirt, struggled with his belt, tearing his jeans down, his cock straining against his boxers. I pushed him off towards the bed, and slipped my jeans off -slowly and sensually staring at him. Taking out my pony tail, my hair falling down my shoulders, covering my face, staring under out under my fringe with lust. I undid my bra, caressed my breasts, turned around bent over for him, watched as his hand hurriedly removed his boxers, took himself in hand, staring rubbing himself slowly. I bent over, touched my toes and stared between my legs; my pink cunt on display, my arse skyward, ready for him. I stood up, glancing towards the window, and grinned, striding across the room.

I walked onto the balcony. The evening was cold, the crisp autumn wind making my nipples stand to attention, caressing my skin, causing gently goose bumps to appear all over me. I leant on the balcony, stared out at the river, at the people walking past below. A guy looked up and smiled, holding hands with his girlfriend, an old woman ‘tutted’ and turned her face to the ground.

Then I felt it – Him behind me, his cock rubbing up and down my arse, glancing over my cunt, feeling my wetness. I bent forward further, my tits pressed against the cold metal railings; his hand grabbed my hair, his other guiding him into me – slowly entering my tight cunt, filling me entirely.

He pulled my head back further, his hand on my hip, pulling me onto him, up to the hilt; he whispered in my ear, “what a dirty little slut” his breath on my ear and neck, catching his wide grin in my sideways glance. He started slowly, rhythmically fucking me, deep and slow, hitting hard at the end of the thrust. I gasped, moaned quietly, grabbed the railings to steady myself, spread my legs further, arched my back higher – pushed myself onto him.

People walking past shouted, pointed, I grinned screaming louder loving the attention. He started pounding me harder, quicker, deeper, his balls slamming into my arse and cunt – my cum running down my legs. His cock filled me entirely, glanced my g spot with each deep thrust; his fingers around my tits, gripping my nipples hard, stretching them in front of me.

I started to moan louder still, screaming out “Fuck, yes, ah, yes, yes…” feeling his cock swelling, the eagerness of his thrusts – his sweat on me. I pushed back into him harder, bouncing on the end of his cock, feeling his hands slide up around my neck. I pulled my head backwards, his hands closing around my throat, my cunt throbbing, swelling – desperate for climax.

He ravaged me, pounded me unrelentingly. I screamed out, my cries echoing off the buildings across the street, our bodies lit by the glow of the hotel lights, my cunt got hotter, wetter tightening around his cock, gripping him deep inside me, I threw my head back, pressed my neck against his hand, struggled to breath, felt the head rush and finally, the release. The cum poured from my cunt, he groaned behind me, fucking me harder, his cock throbbing inside me, his spunk filling me. He released his grip, my body shook, my legs quivered, I screamed for him, running my dripping cunt along his cock, milking him. He leant against me, his chest on my back – his arms around my chest pulling me close. “Fuck” he whispered.

I stared out down the river, to the café lights in the distance, to the houseboats and their occupants eating dinner, to the stars above and the wind rustling the trees on the sidewalk. “Unbelievable,” I replied.