Copyright © 1996
I decided to splurge when I made the reservation for the hotel. After all, this was an important business conference for me, and I was going to be in the city for only a couple of nights. My plane flights were going to be a grueling five hours, with two changes of planes. So I knew I'd be tired, and the idea of suffering with a cheap motel room was not appealing. I called one of those luxury downtown hotels. It was one of the new ones, built in a triangle around a huge central atrium..., glass elevators, balcony hall-ways draped in lush greenery around the atrium. And I asked for a luxury suite with a king-size bed and a separate living room. I wanted to take care of myself for a change. Hopefully, the conference would lead to some profitable business connections that would make the expense of this hotel seem insignificant.
I had wanted to check into my room as soon as I arrived in the city, but of course the flights were late, and the traffic into the city made me so late that I had to go right to the banquet that opened the conference. What I really wanted was a shower, and an hour to relax and compose myself. But I put on my best "face," and freshened up in the restaurant's bathroom.
The dinner and innumerable speeches dragged on and on 'til late at night. But the other people assigned to my table turned out to be interested in the services that my company could offer. By the time that the dessert plates were being picked off of the tables by the bus-boys, I had informally finalized several lucrative deals, and my table mates invited me out for drinks at the restaurant's bar. I was by this time totally exhausted by my the long day (including three time zone changes) but I felt that it was important to be gracious in accepting their offer to continue talking. The fact that they were all men, and that I was probably the most attractive woman in the crowd, was not lost on me, but I determined to keep things on a business level. The conversation over drinks was loaded with their mischievous double-entendres, which I let go unchallenged.
Finally, we made arrangements to reconvene our discussions at the next night's dinner, and we all traded business cards. When the party broke up, I caught a cab back to the hotel. I couldn't believe it when I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost two in the morning. I was actually just getting a second wind, as if my deep feeling of tiredness was overcome with the triumph of making the deals with my dinner partners. I had to admit to myself that there was kind of an erotic charge to the way that I was feeling. Kind of keyed up, and also kind of out of control from my exhaustion. Not much I was going to be able to do about it except masturbate in my room, but that can be great, so I started to think about that as I finally reached the hotel and went through my belated check-in. I was so late that there was not even a bell-hop on duty, so the man at the front desk told me how to get to my room on my own. I pulled my suitcase into the elevator, and as it took me to the top floor, I could see the entire interior of the atrium, with row after row of rooms wrapped around the balconies. There were 20 stories to this place. Each of the rooms had a large window that face into the atrium, and most of them were dark. A few had the lights on, but were shielded by curtains. My sexually oriented thoughts led me to wonder what was going on in each of those rooms. Momentary images of all sorts of couplings flashed through my mind's eye. Walking along the long balcony to my room, I passed by dozens of rooms, and I found myself glancing at the windows. Several had lights on, but the curtains assured the privacy of the inhabitants.
But one room had the curtains partly open, and as I passed, I snuck a look. Inside was a scene that froze me in my tracks. The room was lit by only the flickering bluish illumination from the TV set. On the screen was a soft-core porno movie, the kind that hotels make available for an extra charge. There were the two occupants of the room. The woman was naked, and she was leaning over the back of a big overstuffed armchair, facing toward the TV, with her large breasts draped over the back cushion. The man was standing behind her, fucking his cock deep into her cunt. His hands were squeezing and massaging her ass cheeks so hard that I could see the white streaks on her red and sweaty skin, where his fingers had pushed the blood from her flesh. They were situated so that they were sideways to me, and as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of her, I could see the incredible length become exposed and then disappear again. He was so long and hard and wet, and on the back stroke, her cunt lips clung to his cock, as if they were trying to pull him back into her clutching vagina. His balls swung forwards and back, coming into view briefly with each thrust. She pulled her hands up to start pinching both her nipples into long hard gumdrops.
The two of them were transfixed on the images displayed on the TV, mesmerized by the athletic threesome that are frolicking on the screen. Then he looked down at her ass and purposely drooled a long string of spit into the crease between her ass cheeks. The thumb of one hand chased after the moisture. I couldn't really see what he was doing, but it was easy to guess that his fattest finger was rubbing around her asshole, and when I saw his hand twist around, I knew that he had slipped his thumb into her. When he did that, her back stiffened and her body kind of jerked a bit, as if she were objecting. For myself, I know that I would be more than objecting. I like a little teasing around my asshole, but penetrating it is just not my thing. For this woman that I was spying on, anal penetration was apparently OK, because after a few seconds, she seemed to relax, and she went back to watching the movie and pulling on her nipples. Her chest was heaving and her rising excitement was increasingly evident. As was the man's-he had been very controlled in pacing his deep fucking motions, but now the thrusts were getting deeper than ever, and faster and faster. With the hand that was not involved with penetrating her ass, he started to slap playfully at the skin of her ass and back. Not the kind of slap that would be painful. These were light slaps, designed to heighten her skin's aliveness and sensitivity, like a splash of cold water. She didn't seem to mind at all, and in fact her head started to pivot around, flailing her short black hair around her ears, eyes wild with feverish lust.
That's how she saw me. Her head stopped suddenly and her eyes locked on the window were I was standing, brazenly watching their supposedly private act. At first she looked shocked and worried, but that passed in an instant. Her eyes widened and she licked her tongue around her lips in a broad circle, wickedly smirking at me. Her stare made me aware of my own appearance, and I realized that my hand was pressed into the material of my dress, insinuating itself into the folds of my cunt. I was pressing hard into my vulva, cushioned my the thick skirt and panties that separated my fingers from my cunt, from the silky moisture that had wet my panties. Her smirk was to let me know that she was the one getting the true satisfaction from the shaft of wet flesh that was filling her. I was the one that had to be content with observing her complete pleasure. Her lips opened again, and I could see (but not hear) that she was saying something to her partner. He swung his head toward me and leered at me, laughing at my appearance through the window.
This was finally too much for me. My embarrassment at being caught overwhelmed my hypnotic interest in their animalistic fucking, and I pulled my eyes away from theirs, and pulled my hand away from my cunt. I grabbed my suitcase and finally continued down the balcony toward my room, which was only two doors farther, being the last room on this wall. And my embarrassment at being caught by the couple was then made much worse, because there was someone else looking at me! He was in the room directly ahead of me at the end of the balcony. His room was catty corner to the one that I was soon to claim. Only his head was visible through the small gap in his curtains, but it was clear that his attention was focused on me, and I had no doubt that he had been watching me, as I in turn watched the other couple. As I reached into my purse to get my key, I averted my eyes from his, and struggled to open the lock and attain the sanctuary of my own room. I was so flustered that it took a while to get the key in correctly. Finally the door opened for me and as I turned back toward the hall for my suitcase, I again locked eyes with his. Something about him was reassuring, but being caught twice within one minute was kind of humiliating. In fact, I knew that I wouldn't feel safe until I was locked in my room.
When I closed the door behind me and flipped on the light, I just stood frozen for a timeless moment. My heartbeat gradually slowed from a hummingbird's pace to something more human. I realized that I had been holding my breath, and I forced myself to take deep long inhalations. Eventually, I got myself back to some semblance of self control, and I took stock of what had happened, of what I was feeling, and of the fact that I was now safely ensconced in my luxury suite.
Something about this feeling of fear reminded me of another situation-the time that I had snuck into a health club with a friend, so that we could use the Jacuzzi late at night. Our privacy that night had been interrupted by three college boys that had also snuck into the club. Hearing them in the hallway that night had petrified me with fear, but I remembered clearly that it had also been an incredibly erotic turn-on. That night was the subject of one of my stories ("Slippery When Wet"). It made me realize that sometimes fear and sex can be connected at some level. And that is what was happening for me right now. I was scared of the consequences of being caught being a naughty voyeur, but I was also turned-on. Not only by what I had seen through the window as the man and woman were fucking doggy-style. Also by the fact that I had been seen with my hand between my thighs by a complete stranger, late at night on the balcony of the 20th floor of a glamorous hotel across the country from my home.
This train of thought reminded me of what it was that I had been caught doing. I had sort of been masturbating, and my panties were still sticky-wet with my juices. Now that I was safe in my own room, I could complete what I had started. I wondered if I should go on through the suite to the bedroom, and when I looked around to see how the rooms were laid out, I immediately noticed that the curtains to the atrium-side windows were open. My first thought was that I should, of course, close them. When I went over to do that, I looked out to the balcony, and immediately I saw the man again, in the room catty corner to mine. Because the hotel was built in a triangular shape, the rooms to each side of the inner corners actually faced inwards toward each other. Through my window, I was looking almost directly into his window, his room, and his face-it couldn't be more than six feet separating us. This stopped me cold.
His hands held the curtains to either side of him, so that they were pulled wider than before. Now I could see his entire body, from his knees up. He was wearing a navy blue terry cloth robe, and I could discern right away that he was much older than me, maybe 60 years old or more. Gray hair, some facial wrinkles, and a wise and gentle countenance. His smile was sincere and amiable. Glancing downward, I could see the hint of a bulge beneath his robe, evidence that his cock was partially erect and tenting the fabric away from his thighs. Looking back up to his face, I knew that he had followed my wandering peek at his crotch, and he took his hand from the edge of the curtain and let it slowly move to the knot at the belt of his robe. When he pulled at the knot of the belt, the thick terry cloth parted as he held it to the sides with his hands on his hips, revealing the front of his torso. The pink skin of his chest was tufted with gray hair. For his age, I could see that he kept himself in pretty good shape, for his stomach was firm, and only a few wrinkles creased his skin.
And then there was his cock. It was only partly hard, hanging downwards and slightly off to the side, but erect enough to have pulled away from his thighs. It sort of bobbed in the air, pulsing and twitching. I didn't know whether he was controlling this movement, or if it was involuntary, but I found myself staring at the dancing cock for many long seconds. When I pulled my eyes away to see his face, he raised his eyebrows, tilted his head to the side. It was a questioning look, asking me to think about what I wanted to do. He gave me some hand signals that indicated that we could get together.
What did I want? I was so sexually keyed up, but getting together with this stranger seemed too complex for whatever time it was. And anyway, the theme for this evening seemed to be voyeurism, so that should be the way that it reached its conclusion. I decided that we could give each other a show. I put up my hand to let him know that he should stay put in his room. He looked disappointed for a moment, until he saw my hands go to the front of my green satin blouse. As I unbuttoned it and let it fall to the floor behind me, his facial expression turned from apprehension to curiosity, and finally to admiration, as my breasts came into view, wrapped by a sheer lace brassiere. I hardly ever wear one, but for this evening of business, I thought it would be better to avoid distracting the men with the sight of my nipples poking at the front of my blouse.
I flipped off my shoes, and then I unzipped the side of my skirt and let it fall to my ankles, where I kicked it aside. I undid my braid, letting my long blond hair come free and loose and kinky-just the way that I felt at the moment! My body took up a swaying, sensuous dance as I ran my hands up my thighs, over my tummy, and onto my swelling breasts. I unsnapped the catch in the center of my bra and let the filmy cups hang limply draped over my breasts, with the material catching on the dark jutting nipples. With a shimmy of my shoulders, my breasts came free completely, jiggling like bowls of jello. The bra slid off of my shoulders and onto the floor, adding to the jumbled pile of clothes. Only my panties were left, and before I stripped them off, I looked up to see how my observer was doing.
He had shed his robe, and was now standing completely naked except for a thin gold chain and medal; probably a Saint Christopher, perfect for a traveler, but not so good for a practicing Catholic staring out his hotel window at a voluptuous naked woman dancing for his attention only a very few feet from his similarly naked body. Right now, his fervor was not religious. It was passionate, as was clear from the attitude and altitude of his cock, which was now pointing well above the horizontal. It had a curved shape that made the head of his cock point straight upwards, almost touching his belly button. Such a deliciously young cock on his mature body. And it was still weaving and dancing like an eel out of water. As I observed its meandering dance, he reached down and grabbed it, starting an extremely slow stoking. I was so close to him that I could see a couple of drops of clear precome squeeze out of the tip from just the first pump. The viscous liquid smeared over the broad, purple glans, reflecting all the atrium lights like silver glitter.
As he continued his slow fondling of his 8 inch cock, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my flowery satin panties and pulled them down to my knees. Naturally, the crotch was sort of stuck into the wet crease of my cunt, and I had to pull it out before I could pull my feet up and out of the underwear. Now I was completely exposed to this stranger's view, and I wasted no time before dipping one hand down to my crotch, diving a finger into the puffy wet folds of my cunt. That first touch on my clitoris was almost an electric shock, making my entire body shudder. My eyes were now glued to the sight of his cock being pumped with a gradually accelerating pace, and I took the fingers of my other hand to pull apart my outer labia and matted cunt hair, so that he could see the glossy pink flesh of my inner cunt. I lifted one foot up onto the sill of the window, which was almost two feet off the floor. Bending my knee away from him spread my cunt area even more, so that I was totally open and revealed. I used only one finger to play with my clitoris, curling the others up into my palm so that they didn't interfere with his view. I swiped back and forth over my hard clit, occasionally dipping down into my vagina. Doing that made my inner lips spread more so that he could easily see the glistening jagged opening. I wanted to ensure that his view of my wanton masturbation was as unhampered as I could make it. Judging by the mesmerized look on his face, and the red flush to his skin, I obviously was having the desired effect on him.
....And myself too, for I was rapidly approaching my orgasm. Part of me wanted to let my legs buckle so that I could lie back on the plush carpeting. And I wanted to clench my eyes shut as the orgasm wracked over me. But overcoming those desires was the devilish urge to watch the stranger have his orgasm before I had mine. I slowed my finger as it flipped over my protruding clitoris, and staring shamelessly at his cock and hand, I took note of his technique. He was stoking up and down the shaft, squeezing hard on the down stroke and releasing much of the pressure when his hand slid back toward the plum-colored glans. The rim around the head was flared out away from the shaft, and his fingers bumped against this pliant barrier, pressing the lip up towards his pisshole without letting his index finger or thumb ever ride over the rim onto the come-streaked glans. He seemed to take great pleasure from rubbing that distended rim, and when I looked closer, I could see that it was covered with many dozens of teeny little white nubs. I'd seen these on other men, but never as many, never so pronounced. Maybe there are special nerve endings in these bumps, for he was concentrating his efforts on swiping across this area more and more, applying a sort of twist with his wrist at the peak of each stoke. And he took his other hand and used it to start juggling his balls, which were hanging pendulously, surrounded by lots of wrinkled flesh and gray hair. He was careful to massage his balls from behind, so as not to hide them from my view. What a gentleman! His fingers prodded into the scrotal sac from behind, pushing the veiled globes forwards and upwards, toward me. I licked my lips lewdly as I watched,
His cock was harder and longer than ever, and the head was even fatter and darker. Precome was dribbling out profusely, and he stopped milking at the shaft and took the slimy head into his palm and started to knead and twist it. He knew exactly what to do to bring his excitement to the most hedonistic and ecstatic finish, and he was finally ready to explode. He again slid his hand down onto the shaft of his cock, and he moved it up and down in tiny increments, so fast that it was more like he was vibrating it that stroking it. In fact his whole body started to quiver, eventually punctuated with an explosion of semen that blasted out from the tip and flew across the narrow space, smashing against the glass window pane. It hit the surface so hard that it splattered in all directions, soon to be joined by another glob of gooey come, and another. Both his hands were pumping the liquid from deep in his balls, up though the long stiff rod, and arcing through the air. It was an enchanting sight to see the rivulets of semen dribbling down the glass, and pooling on the metal sill. The grayish-white color matched his head and body hair exactly.
As the final act of his performance proceeded, I reinvigorated my own manipulations of my clitoris, occasionally harvesting some lubrication that seeped from my cunt. The aroma of the evaporating juices filled my nostrils with the zesty fragrance. As his spurting orgasm finally subsided, mine kicked into high gear, and I let my spine arch, splaying my crotch wider, thrusting it forwards. This pushed the back of my hand against the glass, propelling my finger even harder against my clitoris than I could with just the tired muscles of my hand. My other hand let go from spreading my outer lips, and I seized one of my heaving breast in that hand, palpating the hot swollen flesh in my palm, tweaking my nipple with my fingertips.
Of course, all of this was just what the doctor ordered, for it only took a few seconds before my own climax began to wash over me. I had been close for so very long, and I had teased it out while I watched the stranger finish off his orgasm. But now it was definitely my turn to complete my celebration. My finger strummed hard over my clitoris, so fast that it must have been perceived as a hummingbird-wing blur to the man. I grunted and groaned as the first waves of ecstasy pulsed through me like electric shocks, and then wave after wave followed. My head was tipped back so that I could see only the ceiling, but I'm sure that the show I was putting on for the old man was incredibly titillating. I could feel my juices spreading onto the back of my hand, smearing on the glass just as he had smeared his thick come onto his window.
Eventually, the energetic stimulation of my finger was too much, and when I pulled my finger away and up to my other breast, I found that I could just barely push my cunt forwards enough so that it made direct contact with the glass, I wobbled my hips around so that I was squashing my cunt lips against the cold sheet of glass, splaying the pulpy flesh and spreading the clear secretions.
Finally, my legs and libido gave out. Looking behind me, I saw an armchair close by, so I let my knees buckle and collapsed into the comfortable embrace of the cushy upholstery. As I did so, I hadn't a moment to relax before I heard the phone ringing. What the Hell, I thought, and I looked over at the clock on the side table. It was after 4:00 in the morning! Who could be calling me now, of all times. But I reached over and picked it up.
"My name is Charlie, and I wanted you to know that you were absolutely spectacular. I shall relish the memory of our mutual masturbation forever. Thank you so much. I don' want to bother you in any way at all, but if you want to talk-or whatever-call me back. I'm sure you know my room number, Bye." And with that he was off the phone. I hadn't had a chance to speak at all. I looked through my window towards his room, but the curtain was now closed. The room number was right there in large gold numbers on the face of his door.
Do you think that I called him? If so, what happened next? Maybe I'll write the rest of this story someday... or maybe you will write it for us. I'd be most interested in hearing the stranger's side of this story or its continuation.