Thanks for keeping me balanced there on that ledge, but i’ve been out there all day and I’m cold. And hot. And bothered. All at the same time ; )
I know it is my turn to heat this scene all up, but I won’t have time to write until much later…
Is this great or what!? Picture me jumping on your back and wrapping my legs around your hips, you reaching back to scoop your forearms under my thighs, and carry me piggy back a few steps… you turn us in a circle, me with my arms around your neck and my laughter, with yours, ringing out into the cold night and cascading to the busy streets below our ledge.
Oh what the hell, here’s a bit more:
After what seemed like the shortest eternity to ever exist, my head came tumbling back to Earth. I was suddenly aware of the cold, damp air filled our lungs and our exhaling breath came out as thick clouds of smoke before disappearing into the night air. You shivered, and I could only imagine how hard you fought to keep that hidden, considering how much of yourself you exposed to me already. I slowly pulled you off of the railing, removed my suit coat and wrapped it around your delicate shoulders. Glancing at the railing, I noticed the small dry spot in the middle of hundreds of puddles. It was easy to conclude where the moisture had soaked up to. I’d have to remind myself later to help you dry that piece of clothing off.
you should have just fucked me there, hard, against the concrete…all my girlfriends would have enjoyed the view of your bum moving in that familiar pattern….
No worries. There will be other opportunities to have our hips lined up against walls, over car hoods, on the fenced boardwalks of a winding nature walk, on my desk, on a table in front of the window of a dark hotel room with the lights on behind us…and I know there’s a little cabin in the woods where it is much warmer than on that balcony ledge…
I shake the rain out of my hair and attempt to secure my blouse over my bare breasts. Minus one button, it is nearly impossible.
I stuff the torn, silk strapped lingerie into your coat pocket. It would never be the same anyway. It was thoroughly shredded in your haste to press your face into the small space left between my breasts when you roughly cradled both together, dipped in with your mouth, and closed that space with ease.
I had vivid memories of your large hands, struggling to keep your grip on the soft, but weighty gifts you found thrust into your face for the taking. I would not soon forget how you used your thumbs to stroke across the darker areola and the delightfully painful experience of you running the stubble of your cheeks over both pointed nipples, back and forth, driving me crazy with your roughness and liking it and wanting you to stop and start and then stop. Too intense for me, I sought a diversion.
Glancing over your shoulder I make sure the crowd is at bay and occupied, and notice one of the waiters has made his way to the patio door. He looks up at me on the ledge, with no surprise at all on his face, until his eyes take in the situation. He raises an eyebrow, and then licks his lips and puts his hands in his front pockets and walks toward us.
His uniform pants look oddly askew. And I know his situation. Poor waiter. He has only a minute to lift and shift his flagging erection, and his face visibly registers his awareness that my hand has found its way inside the front of your trousers. I am pleased to have the need to stretch my fingertips in an exaggerated effort so as to meet with my thumb, and I try to lock down the animal you have clearly not tamed, and are unable to keep contained once I open your fly.
Nosy waiter guy surprises me and walks over and coughs politely, while at the same time reaching out and trailing his hand down my back and stubbornly leaving his palm resting on my lower back. Knowing you are in a difficult position to do much to stop him as I have you firmly in my grasp, he laughs under his breath and points to the side door leading to the empty conference room.
With a shake of his head, he says, “Get a room, folks,” and I hear in his tone a bit of envy and a bit of regret telling me he has hopes we would not heed his directive.
I let go of the best heat source a girl on a balcony can find, and swear under my breath at myself for wishing a break from your attentions. You pull me off the ledge and wrap me in your jacket. With my eyes adjusting to the dimness, I alternate my gaze back and forth between your eyes and then down to the throbbing ungentleman-like cock that you leave blatantly exposed despite such a rude interruption.
Surprising me again, you look straight at the waiter and then at me. The waiter is taking in my cleavage and doesn’t realize I’m displeased. I shut him down with a smile that does not reach my eyes and simultaneously reach out and pat the front of waiter boy’s pants and say, “Maybe next time, honey, I’ve clearly got my hands full here…”
Without hesitation, I lick my lips and reach down with upturned palm into the front of your jeans, and with my eyes never leaving Mr. Disappointed’s face, stroke you from the head to the base, and then twist my wrist slightly to scoop your two boys into my capable hands, and lead you into the conference room.
Not more than two feet into the room, I let go only to grasp the belt loops of your slacks and push them down to mid- thigh height. In an easy maneuver, I lift my stiletto clad foot and slide it between your legs and use the toe of my shoe to drive them down to your ankles in one smooth motion.
I drop to my knees and pull your hips toward my waiting mouth, pulling those heavy orbs over my teeth and inside to the heat of my mouth, and I swirl their weight back and forth, letting them trade places and press alternately against the roof of my mouth, while I eagerly wet them down with my tongue, suck them as deeply into my throat as I can, and then release the suction causing a teasing slurp.
I’m on my knees and looking up at you. This time it is you leaning against the wall, and I own the moment. You touch my temple with one hand and I back off my tongue, release you, and inhale a heady mixture of your scent and your desire as I turn my cheek and rub it on the side of your manhood. The tip of your cut member is wet, swollen, and as I grab the base with one hand, I push you away just a bit to allow myself the room I will need to pull you into my mouth… but first I take a second to trace the wet slit of your head, and savor my first taste of you, knowing what is to come…. and I reach with my free hand in between my own thighs, push away my wet panties and fill my fingers with what is not rain water.
I reach my fingertips up to your face. You bend forward and I touch your lower lip with my wetness, and slide my finger inside your mouth, and whisper as you take what I offer, “Taste me.”