The hotel room door opens. She walks in, swinging her hipsand singing. She's wearing a dark shirt, tight where it matters, the top few buttons undone enough to show her cleavage and the edge of a black lace bra. She has a skirt too, black; but it barely reaches her thighs. Her favourite. Black stockings, following down to a pair of small heels that she kicks across the room as the door swings shut behind her.
She stretches, hands above her head, chest straining against the tight, thin fabric of her shirt. She walks over to the window and pulls up the blinds. It’s dark out, but she watches the lights of the city race around beneath her, stars in the abyss. A light catches her eye, in the hotel across the way, on her level. She thinks she sees a figure, or a face, at the window before the light dies out, leaving the room within in total darkness. They’re still there then, she thinks to herself, grinning. Good.
Walking over to the mirror on the wall, she watches herself strut and swing her hips, chest puffed out and chin high. She looks good. She feels sexy. She takes a minute or two to check herself over, tweak a hair or two here and there. A large grin appears. Grabbing a chair from the table, she places it in the centre of the room, facing out of the window. Straddling over the back of the chair, rather than walk around, she sits down in a lazy pose, looking at the dark room across the way.
Her hand raises to massage her aching neck and shoulders. Her body shuffles, relaxing a little more, as the hand lowers to rub her collar bone. Tipping her head back, her hand trails lazily down her chest, mounding over her right breast, through her thin shirt. She grips it, squeezing; gently. The other hand now raises to the other, joining in the same rhythm, rubbing gentle circles. Her eyes close and a small moan escapes her lips. The first of many. Both hands slide away now, rubbing the backs of her fingertips over her sides, down towards her hips. They run the length of her thighs, doubling back at the top of her stockings; they hitch her skirt up a little on the return journey. Her hips shuffle again and she smiles to herself as she strokes her stomach, hands grazing against her breasts once more.
Working her hands under her shirt, again she repeats the movement. She strokes her stomach, then runs her fingertips up her torso until both hands grasp her breasts, separated only by the thin lace bra. She smiles, her head tips back and her second small moan escapes as her thumbs flick over her hardening nipples.
Shuffling a little lower in her seat, she runs her fingers over the waistband of her skirt, thumbs pulling at the fabric. She snaps the material against her waist and gives another little moan. Again she glances out of the window, subtly, towards the room still lacking light. With a mischievous grin, one hand slides under the waistband of her skirt, a single finger runs the length of her lips, with gentle pressure, the palm of her hand stroking down behind it. The finger returns along the same line, a little more pressure now, as her other hand once more finds its way under her shirt, trailing fingertips.
Getting impatient, her fingers snake into her panties, brushing against her clit. She moans. She has to do that again; index finger rubbing a gentle circle as her other hand mimics the movement against her nipple. She’s smiling, now. But she wants more. Gripping her breast tightly, her fingers again run over her lips, parting them with ease. An idea comes to mind. Closing her eyes and again gripping a breast, she brings her hand out of her panties. She holds her hand up the light, her fingers glistening. She grins; naughty, again. Extending her tongue, she licks her fingers in a single movement. She grins again. She likes that. She does it again, then sucks them clean completely, grinning all the time. Smacking her lips, the fingers again begin their descent and find their way once more inside her panties. She’s eager now, rubbing her lips with more pressure still, flicking her thumb against her clit with another grin and shudder. She can’t resist anymore. Biting her lip, eyes closed, she eases two fingers inside herself. She gets halfway before she has to release the next moan, louder now, gripping her breast firmly. Wiggling her fingers, her hips shuffle and she smiles; another moan. The rest of her fingers prove equally exciting, feeling the knuckle slide over her lips gives her another reason to bite her lip until her fingers will go no more. She breathes out. She’s only just realised she was holding her breath. She giggles and grins to herself, glancing out of the window for a split second. She refocuses as her thumb rubs over her clit and circles it, her leg giving a small twitch. The fingers start to pump, slowly at first. Out to just the nail, and in again to the knuckle. Out to the nail and in again the knuckle. Her head falls back and she smiles to herself, beginning to move her hips in time with her hand.
The door swings open, quietly, behind her. He walks in, closing it behind him. He sees her in the chair, her hair cascading down the back, head tipped and whimpering. He smirks, noting the open window and the nearby lamp casting her in a near spotlight. He likes her being naughty. He slips his shoes off quickly, leaving them by the door, and pads over towards her. Nearing her, he spies over her shoulder. Her hand is working furiously, the other has an iron grip on her breast, under her shirt, her hips bucking in the chair. It’s almost too good a sight to interrupt. Almost.
Leaning over the back of her chair, he breathes gently against her neck. He feels her tense up, but she doesn’t stop. A smile spreads over her face. His hand slides over her collarbone and enters her shirt from above, grasping her free breast in his fingers, kneading. He hears and feels her groan against his cheek. He takes her right hand by the wrist and slowly pulls it out from her panties, with a little resistance and a tut in his ear. As the hand leaves, her hips circle and buck, as though searching. Smirking, her brings her hand quickly to his mouth and takes her fingers, sucking them with a low groan.
He smacks his lips, releasing her hand, running the backs of his fingers down her torso. Her body shivers as it goes. He strokes her hips, other hand circling a nipple, as her hips again begin to roll. There’s an impatient moan in his ear. Quickly, fingers slip under her waistband and find her clit, rubbing small, fast circles. Now her hips buck. Now she moans and shivers. He wastes no time, sliding his fingers down her lips, he quickly enters her with one and then two fingers. Curling them back a little, he copies her movements, though admittedly with much larger fingers. She whimpers and shudders in her chair; kisses and nibbles along her neck and collarbone only fuelling her further.
She’s getting closer and closer, a twitch develops in her right leg, hips buck once more, a hand clamped tightly around her breast, the other bracing against the chair leg. Her chest is rising and falling in time with his movements, moans getting longer and deeper. He knows she’s definitely close now, he can see her toes flexing in her stockings. Barely suppressing a giggle, he stops suddenly, inside her. He has her worried, she tenses up and freezes, breath held in anticipation. For a second, he keeps stock still before suddenly removing his fingers and his hand from her panties. She moans pitifully, feeling suddenly empty, “nooo…” escapes her as she suddenly reaches for her panties. The hand is grabbed and brought away, she moans again. She wants her release, but she’ll have to wait. He struggles not to giggle as he offers her his glistening fingers.
Pouncing quickly, she wraps her mouth around his fingers, sucking and licking them completely clean; still moaning, now with relish. She loves her taste. And he loves that she loves it.
He guides her hand behind the chair as she sucks, brushing up his leg and wrapping her hand around his restrained manhood, through his trousers. She suddenly bites down gently on his fingers, a deeper groan now as she locks her hand around it, stroking. In an instant she’s spun around in her chair to face him, for the first time. She looks up at him with wide eyes; angry, horny eyes. She’s determined to make him pay. Fumbling hurriedly with his belt, she yanks his trousers and boxers down to his knees in one movement, reaching out quickly for his released manhood. As he bends down to kick off his trousers, he runs a hand down her back. With a stroke over her arse, her skirt is hitched up. Even from his view, her little purple panties are visible under her skirt. The view from the window behind must be even better, he thought with a grin.
She feels his attentions around her arse, but she’s determined to carry out her goal and make him pay. She just needs his attention back, tracing one solitary finger right along the length of his manhood. That does the trick; he straightens right up and stares her in the eye as she smiles mischievously back at him. He responds by pushing his hips forward, manhood bumping against her lips, grinning back at her with barely restrained laughter. She frowns again, she will have control of THIS situation she thinks, gripping his length in her hand and giving it the lightest of licks. Not breaking eye contact until absolutely necessary, she abruptly takes him into her mouth. A small gasp above her makes her smirk, as hands reach down to grab the back of her head. She thinks about telling him off, but the hands now grip her hair, pulling her off him to look back at his face. Thoughts of any telling off are forgotten, she can only lick her lips seductively, eyes half closed, waiting for a second chance she knows is coming.
The grip on her hair easing slightly, she once more throws her head forward to take as much of him as she can, her tongue trails along his shaft as her head is brought away more once. And lowered again, as he dictates a steady pace. He knows this will frustrate her. She’s pulling against his grip, trying to go faster, deeper. He holds her back, smiling. She pulls harder, but he refuses again. Hands suddenly reach around his arse; pulling him closer she tries again. Now he lets her take the pace. She’s twice the speed now and as deep as she can get, loving every second as his head falls back and a guttural groan forces out of him. She’s good at that. She’s winning, she thinks. She’ll show him. Trying for another inch she pulls him deeper and deeper into her mouth. Except now she can’t pull back. She tries, but he has a firm grip on her hair again and he’s not letting go, hips locked in place she’s stuck with him in her mouth. She’d swear if she could, the bastard! She locks her lips around his shaft and sucks in deeply, clamping her mouth around his cock. There’s a gasp and a little giggle. “You evil bitch…” This makes her smile, and suck even harder, the grip on her hair suddenly released.
Pulling free with a gasp for air she stands up straight, hands on her hips ready to feign irritation, swallowing hard. But she doesn’t have chance to open her mouth again before he’s on her, pulling her into his chest and kissing her hard. Her head swims once more as she feels familiar fingers slipping into her waistband. They find her still sopping, aching slit that she’d almost forgotten about. She remembers now, knees trembling and head swimming from the deepest kiss she’s known for a long time, as his fingers strum over her lips and clit. Why was she angry again? She wonders.
The kiss breaks and her eyes slowly open, as he throws his shirt aside and grabs her waist once more, pressing her into him and his two fingers into her. “Oh” is all she can manage before he begins to work her clit again and she gives a second, far longer “oh”. Somehow, fingernails find his arse, digging in, and teeth find his shoulder. There’s no reaction, only a tighter grip around her waist, pulling her into him. The next few seconds feel timeless, her mind a pleasant swirl and her senses not her own. She feels it. Pressing against her, hot and slick, her mind becomes clear again with thoughts of his cock. She knows what she wants and she grabs it. He stops. She runs the length through her fingers, a small laugh comes from him. His fingers leave her again and again she feels empty; hopefully not for long.
Pulling back, they look each other in the eye as he now sucks his own fingers clean, winking. Her hand finds a breast through the shirt and tugs at it gently, but her partner has other ideas. He reaches down, grips the shirt in both hands and tears it open, her black lace bra now completely visible, thin enough for her iron nipples to push through and point at him accusingly. A grin, and his hands find both breasts, kneading them and pushing them together. A moan, her head falls back again and she grips his shaft. Fingers now fix her nipples, pinching and rolling slightly; her back arches, she moans louder now and her head tips back with a groan.
Hands are suddenly on her shoulders, spinning her around, her shirt billowing as she pivots. She faces the window that she’d forgotten about, a grin now spreading even more across her face. The chair is placed in front of her and she’s bent over it, hands resting on the back. Her breasts fall forward as she does, barely contained in their lace prison, in full view of the window. She throws her hair back to give a clearer view. Just in case.
Her skirt is hitched up over her arse, hands grip and roll her cheeks, her hips rolling to match them. Fingers then stroke over her slit, through her panties. A tut behind her “Sopping wet, you filthy girl…” She bites her lip and bucks her hips; she does like when he talks like that. She feels them gripping her slit and no doubt giving anyone behind a great a view. But they’re soon pulled off her, her legs forced open wider as they’re slipped off her. She expects him to throw them aside, but suddenly they’re in front of her. Confused, she begins to ask when they’re pushed unceremoniously inside her mouth, her jaw closer shut with a single finger. “Shhh,” can just be heard in her ear, breath on her neck. The taste of her juices fills her mouth and she finds herself almost sucking on her panties, feeling dirtier by the minute and loving it.
He can’t take in the sight of her quickly enough, skirt hitched up over her hips, stocking legs straight out wide, bent at the waist with her dripping crease bare to see and her heaving breasts falling out of her torn shirt, visible in the mirror on the wall. The lust in her eyes and the force of his own appetite don't give him much time to admire the view, though. Taking his length in hand, he presses it gently against her slit. Immediately she pushes back, trying to take him. One hand grips her hip and with the other he slides his length up and down her lips. Such a plaintive cry he hears from her, she must be aching desperately for her release. Giving just one more rub against her, he eases the tip against her entrance.
Her arse pushes back, searching for more, her hips wiggling and her foot kicking out a tantrum as she cries out again. She moans, loudly and pitifully. That’s all he needs to hear. His free hand reaches forward and grabs her hair. She gasps a little, but it’s replaced by a long, deep, satisfied moan as he pulls her whole frame back onto his length. His full length. He bottoms out with ease, still holding her hair tight, and her body shudders. A hissed, “Yes,” fills the room. Still keeping his grip on her hair, his hips pivot and swivel about, working around inside her. Her hips move now, faster and faster. He starts to slide his length out, leaving only an inch inside her. Then he pushes slowly back inside, gradually faster. She becomes more vocal, she’s crying out for more and he sees her hand dart between her legs. She’s rubbing her clit furiously, her fingers brushing against him when he bottoms out.
He squeezes one of her breasts and she groans out loud once again with a hiss. She’s crying out for more, faster and deeper. He gives her all he’s got, he’s now fucking her furiously, their bodies slamming against each other with total abandon as she spits out her panties for her longest moan yet. A light slap against her arse cheek is rewarded with an echoing, “Yes!” and then a growled, “Fuck me!” Now he knows she’s getting close. He can feel it, he can hear it in her. He’s getting closer too with every second. Holding on as long as he can, he keeps up his relentless attack on her as he feels her muscles clamp down around him. Every muscle in her body locks, except her hand never stops rubbing her clit. He keeps up his pace for her as her legs start to shudder, but he can’t hold back anymore. Letting go of her hair, he grips both of her hips and thrusts himself into her as deeply as he can, holding it there. She gives out a long cry and an almost endless, “Yes,” towards the wide open window as he finishes inside her, pulsing again and again until she collapses under him. Unable to hold her, he falls to the floor too, still firmly buried inside her quivering sex, holding tightly onto her while they both try desperately to recover.
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/a-room-with-a-view.aspx">A Room With A View</a>