Speaker 1: The elevator hummed its way to the forty second floor,
and my husband's hand found the small of my back, warm, possessive.
I leaned into it without thinking. You're quiet, Marcus murmured,
I'm taking it in. The doors opened onto a corridor
of muted gold light and carpet so thick my heels
sank half an inch. Our sweet was the last door,
Room four to one eight. Marcus swiped the key card
with a flourish, pushed the door open, and stepped aside
so I could enter first. I stopped breathing. The city
sprawled below us like a circuit board lit by a
drunk god. Towers of glass and steel stretched to the horizon,
their windows blinking gold and blue and white. But it
wasn't the view that stole my breath. It was the
walls floored a ceiling glass. Two entire sides of the
suite were transparent, curving at the corner in a seamless sweep.
The bedroom, the living area, even the bathroom had a
glass partition overlooking the skyline, though frosted panels offered some mercy. Marcus,
I know people can see in. He came up behind me,
his reflection ghosting over mine in the dark glass. His
hands settled on my hips. It's the forty second floor, Lena,
who's going to see? I pointed across the canyon of
air to the building opposite same height, maybe fifty yards away,
close enough that I could make out the silhouette of
a potted plant on someone's balcony, close enough that the
dim glow of a desk lamp in one of those
windows felt intimate that building, I said. Marcus followed my gaze.
One window directly across from ours glowed a faint amber.
The others were dark. The amber window had something in it,
a shape, motionless watching. Is that a telescope? My voice
came out thinner than I intended. Someone has a telescope
pointed this way. Marcus's hands tightened on my hips. I
felt him press closer, the ridge of his arousal unmistakable
against my lower back. My stomach dropped and rose at
the same time, a sick, excited lurch that I hadn't
felt in years. Should we close the curtains, he asked,
his mouth brushing my ear. The curtains existed. I'd spotted
the control panel by the bed one button and the
glass would frost over privacy at the touch of a finger.
I didn't move. It's just a telescope, I said, probably
an astronomy buff looking at stars. We're not stars. My
reflection grinned. I watched her do it, watched the city
glitter through her transparent body. Somewhere in that amber window,
a stranger was watching too. The thought sent a pulse
between my legs that I couldn't reason away. No, I agreed,
we're not. Marcus turned me around and kissed me, not
a gentle kiss, not a hotel check in peck. His
mouth opened against mine, and his tongue slid past my teeth,
and I made a sound I didn't recognize. My hands
clawed up his chest, fisting his shirt. The city lights
bled through my closed eyelids. When he pulled back, I
was dizzy. Leave them open, I whispered the curtains. His
eyes searched my face. Whatever he found there made him
smile slowly. Yeah, I want him to watch the word
hymn landed between us like a lit match. We'd never
done this, never talked about it, but Marcus didn't look surprised.
He looked hungry. I dropped to my knees. The carpet
was plush enough to cushion the impact, and from this angle,
the telescope window was directly in my line of sight.
I couldn't see the man behind it, couldn't see his face,
or his hands, or whether he was leaning forward in
his chair. But I imagined him. The thought crystallized in
my mind, a man alone in a dark room, one
eye pressed to a lens, his breathing shallow. I unzipped
Marcus's trousers. His cock sprang free, already thick and straining.
And I didn't tease, didn't flirt. I took him into
my mouth in one slick motion and heard his head
thump back against the glass. Jesus Lena. I hollowed my
cheeks and pulled back slow, letting my tongue drag along
the underside of his shaft. The taste of him hit
the back of my throat, salt and skin, and the
faint musk of the flight we'd taken six hours ago.
I wanted more. My head bobbed, Spit slicked my lips
and dripped down my chin. I let it happen, Let
myself get messy, let myself make those wet sucking sounds
that I usually tried to muffle. This time, I wanted
them loud, wanted them to carry across the void between buildings,
like an invitation. I gripped his shaft with one hand
and pulled my mouth off him, a string of saliva
connecting my bottom lip to his tip. Then I ducked lower.
His balls were tight again, tins his body drawn up
with a rousal, and I took one into my mouth.
The sound Marcus made was guttural. I licked the seam
behind them. Then lower, My tongue traced a circle around
the tight bud of his ass, and he jerked like
I'd electrocuted him. I did it again, slower. His hand
fisted my hair. Fuck Lena, he's definitely watching. I turned
my head toward the window. My lips were swollen and shining.
My mascara had started to smudge. I looked like a mess,
A glorious, debauched mess. I smiled directly at the amber
glow across the street and stuck out my tongue. Then
I stood up. My dress was a slip of black silk,
one tug at the zipper, and it pooled at my feet.
I hadn't worn a bra. My breasts felt heavy in
the cool, air conditioned breeze, nipples puckering instantly. My panties
were a scrap of lace that Marcus peeled down my
thighs with the reverence of a man unwrapping something priceless.
The city watched, the telescope watched. I felt seen bend
over now. Marcus said, his voice had gone gravelly. Let
him see what I'm about to do to you. I
bent at the waist, my palms flat on the glass.
The pain was cool against my skin. My reflection stared
back at me, hair wild, cheeks, flushed, mouth parted beyond her,
beyond my own hungry eyes. The amber window glowed like
a single, unblinking pupil. Marcus lined himself up behind me.
His cock nudged between my thighs, sliding through slick wetness
before finding my entrance. Then he pushed. I gasped. The
glass fogged around my open mouth. He filled me in
one long, deliberate stroke. My inner walls stretched around him,
and I pushed back, greedy for the root of him,
the thick base that made my vision spark. His hips
met my ass with a slap that echoed through the
near empty suite. Look at yourself, Marcus grunted, one hand
gripping my hip, the other tangling in my hair. Look
at your reflection, Look at him. I looked. My reflection
was a woman I barely recognized, eyes black with pupil,
breasts swaying with each thrust, mouth forming shapes that were
probably words, but came out as animal sounds. Behind her,
the amber window, behind the amber window, a shadow that
had definitely moved closer. Marcus fucked into me with a
rhythm that felt designed. Not too fast, not too slow,
just harden enough that my palms squeaked against the glass.
My breath fogged the pane in expanding circles. Ride me,
he said, suddenly, pulling out on the bed facing the window.
I didn't need to be told twice. The bed was
positioned perfectly. I straddled him, my back to the city,
and sank down onto his cock. In one motion. My
breasts bounced at eye level with Marcus's face, and he
took one nipple into his mouth while his thumb found
my clit. I rode him like the city depended on it.
My hips rolled, my thighs, burned, my reflection was behind me,
now framed in glass, and I turned my head to
catch a glimpse of it. The curve of my spine,
the flex of my ass, the way Marcus's cock disappeared
and reappeared between my legs. From across the street. The
view would be even better. My tits bouncing, my face
contorted with pleasure, my husband's hands gripping my waist like
I might fly apart. The thought undid something in me.
I'm close, I panted. Marcus sat up his chest pressing
to mine, and whispered into my ear. Not yet on
your knees first, I want to finish in your mouth,
show him what a good wife looks like. I slid
off him, dropped to the carpet, opened my mouth. His
cock was slick from my own arousal, glistening with it.
I took him deep, letting him hit the back of
my throat, and his hand fisted my hair while the
other pressed flat to the glass beside us. He was
facing the window, facing the telescope, putting on a show.
The first spurt of come hit my tongue, hot and thick.
The second striped my lips. I held eye contact with Marcus,
then turned deliberately toward the amber window, opened my mouth
so the stranger could see the white pool on my tongue.
Then I swallowed. Marcus was still hard. His cock twitched
in my grip, and a slow grin spread across his face.
Stay there, he said, open your mouth again. I did.
He angled his hips, and a stream of piss, hot
and clear splashed across my chin, my neck, my breasts.
It ran down my belly in rivulets. The smell was
sharp and intimate. I laughed, God help me, I laughed.
Marcus laughed with me, bending to press his forehead to mine.
You're insane, I said, I know. He kissed my wet,
sticky mouth, and I tasted the last of him on
his tongue. The city lights blurred outside. My skin was
slick with sweat and come and piss, and I had
never felt so awake. We pulled apart, breathless and grinning
like idiots. Then the knock came, three sharp raps on
the sweet door, a voice, I'm done with watching. Let
me in and we can all fuck. So I did.
I did. I hoped you enjoyed today's sexy story. If
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