I was at a literary criticism conference in Baltimore. My hotel room had a balcony, and after a long day of presenting and listening to other scholars present, I was in the mood to relax and have a little fun on it. I changed out of my uncomfortable button down shirt and pencil skirt, removed my glasses, and let my hair down out of its bun. I left my thigh-highs and heels on and pulled on a matching black negligée with a snap crotch and see-thru cups. It was around ten o'clock, and several floors down was the sidewalk, bathed in the orange glow of streetlights, with its current of pedestrians. The light was behind me, coming from my room, so I discarded my idea of flashing pedestrians below, thinking they wouldn't be able to see me. I went back in the room, turned off the lamps, and returned to the balcony to sit in the plastic green chair to enjoy the darkness. I lit up a joint and inhaled, holding the creamy smoke in my lungs for a few seconds before exhaling a big cloud of smoke which seemed to hang in the air in front of me before drifting toward the balcony adjacent to mine.
I closed my eyes, took another hit, and set the joint in the ashtray. All dressed up and nobody to play with. I let my hands wander up and down my own body, and eased aside the cups of the negligée so that my breasts spilled out. The light from the sign of the hotel across the street lit up my breasts in a red glow. I took another hit from the joint and held it, letting my free hand roam down between my legs and unsnap the crotch buttons. I exhaled another great cloud and began touching myself, propping one heeled foot on one chair and the other on the balcony railing. I smoked, playing with my pussy, thinking I would just rub one out and go to bed early. Then I heard a nearby muffled cough.
I had thought nobody was around. But the cough had come from the balcony adjacent to mine, from the dark recesses against the neighboring room, whose lights were all out. I strained my eyes in the darkness, trying to see. Had I imagined it? Then a faint green glow appeared and illuminated the cloud of smoke that was drifting across the balconies. The features of a male face became foggily distinguishable, and I gawked, my legs still spread eagle, my fingers still inside me. I realized that it was a man holding a phone towards me, watching the screen. He must have had night vision on his device, because it seemed far too dark to take a picture or video.
Then I noticed his other hand, barely identifiable except for the flurry of motion as it stroked up and down his exposed erection. How long had he been watching me? I stood and approached the balcony railing, my heel clicks echoing in the small space. As I approached, he neared the railing the two balconies shared, and he guided his cock through the railing and onto my side of the balcony. I watched the cock twitch and waver in the cold air.
