After Dinner 8

[This story follows the characters and situation started Progressive Dinner. I hope you enjoy this whether or not you also read that one.]

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I had left my bag in the room when I checked in, so only Elle's had to come up with us. I carried it under one arm and hugged Elle with the other as we got into the elevator. As Elle had requested, I got a room on one of the upper floors, the eighth, with a wonderful (and somewhat pricey) view of the river.

As soon as we got into the room, Elle saw the bouquet I had ordered -- a showy shower of roses, framing an iced bottle of Mumm's. When she saw it, she wrapped her arms around my neck, stood tiptoe to give me a big, wet kiss, and whispered, "Ian you sweetie! They're beautiful." Her hand on my pants gripped my furious erection and emphasized her appreciation.

She found a bud just starting to open, broke it off with a few inches of stem, and tucked it behind one ear. Then she headed to the bathroom. "I'll be back in a minute."

I took the moment to look around the room a little more. This side of the hotel, seen from the outside, had a blocky, ziggurat look to it. The way it was built, each room had a small open porch. The way the building stepped outward, there was only a one-story drop down to the next level, even on our floor. Angles made it impossible to see any porch from any other unless you leaned way out past the railing, so even this outdoor space was relatively private.

I was back inside pouring the Mumm's when Elle came back out of the bathroom. She pulled some sloping sandals from her bag and put them on. I didn't look closely, but I noticed something strappy with about a three inch wedge in the sole, a lot more heel than she usually wore. I didn't think much of it, though. I was too enchanted with by the billowing lapels of her jacket, with shy breasts hiding in the darkness behind them.

I handed her a glass, and said, "To us."

She answered, "To our first year together!" We clinked glasses and sipped deeply to the happy time. Still holding her glass, Elle hugged me with her other arm. She pressed herself against my erection as she rubbed my thigh between her legs. I cupped her bottom and pulled it close, filling my hand with that gorgeous round curve. We kissed, sipped, and held for a few minutes, until my glass was empty. I set it down so I could attend to her with both hands.

Elle wore a summer-weight jacket and knee-length black skirt -- that was all. She had made very sure I knew how naked she was under that. More than naked, really, since she had also shaved her pubis for the occasion. I started caressing her breast through the light jacket. When she unbuttoned it, I accepted her invitation and cupped her bare breast.

I love that feeling. These breasts aren't 'perky' or 'pert'. Instead, they have the most wonderful softness, the kind that flows into my hand. I caught the nipple in the 'V' next to my thumb, and felt its contrasting firmness. Elle sighed and pulled me closer when my grasp tightened.

I kept one hand on her bottom, feeling the muscles flex as she moved, and shifted the other hand from her breast to the front of her skirt. A moment later, my thumb found her mons and started to massage it through the light fabric. Elle pulled a little away from me, pulled her skirt up, and tucked the front into her waistband. She bared her clean, smooth labia to me, and let me see that little pink ruffle that peeked out from between them. I knelt in front of her and kissed. That isn't a good position for kissing her vulva deeply, but it filled my face with her scent and softness. And, since she had never shaved her pubic hair before, I felt her intimate curves on my lips in a whole new way.

Elle held my head close to her hips. Then she took me by the shoulders and pulled me up. One button at a time, she opened my shirt. At each step, she explored the new exposure with her hands and lips. Those explorations continued downward as my shirt opened lower and lower. I scarcely noticed that she took a step or two backwards each time, backing toward the patio door, until I was almost on the threshold.

"Outside?" I must have sounded more startled than I meant to.

"Why not?" Elle opened my belt as she spoke, with plenty of side trips to the erection leaping under it. "No one can see."

I looked around. The room lights were off, since the sky still cast enough light through the window wall. Unless someone on the other side of the river had a pretty good telescope, she was right. We both stepped outside and Elle continued opening my clothes. Once the belt was open, my pants yielded easily enough. Elle drew it out, though, lowering the zipper by inches. She left my pants around my hips, but started to lower my briefs as well.

Elle was kneeling by that point, just as I had knelt in front of her. She teased my underwear down just as slowly, exposing my erection and playing with it as each inch appeared. She also cooed little nothings to it as it emerged, "Beautiful penis, big strong guy, you're happy to see me -- I can tell." Silly stuff, really just happy sounds to bolster the bond between us.

She kissed it as she exposed it, licking the tip, nibbling the shaft, and spreading pre-come into a slick covering. My balls had pulled tight by the time my underwear went that low, as much from excitement as from the cooling sunset. Elle pushed my underwear out of the way by hooking the elastic behind my balls. It was a little awkward getting there, but added pressure just heightened my tension.

Elle stood then, still holding as much of my erection's length as could fit in her slim hand. She kissed me, spreading pre-come on my lips, too. I don't know what it is, but tasting myself in her mouth is the most intimate thing in the world. It means she has truly taken me into herself.

Still holding our faces close, Elle whispered, "Ian, I want to feel you inside of me."

My erection leaped in her hand. "My god, Elle, I want that more than anything. Let me get a condom." I started to turn away, holding my pants so I wouldn't trip over them.

Elle's grip tightened around me and pulled me back. "Not tonight Ian. I want to feel you, just you inside me." The statement ended with another slow, slippery kiss.

Even though Elle was on the pill, we had always been reasonably careful about safe sex. Elle is a biologist -- she wouldn't have it any other way. I started to protest, "But ..."

She hushed my with another soft kiss. "We've been together for a year, Ian. That's longer than I've been with anyone before. I trust you, I know you haven't been with anyone else in that year." Or in the eight months before that, if you must know the truth. "And," her voice dropped, "I've never felt a penis directly before, not inside."

If you grew up before the AIDS generation, you might not realize this is kind of a big deal. For lots of people our age, going bareback the first time is right up there with losing her virginity. And, from what I've heard of women's first time stories, it's often more well-considered and enjoyable.

I hugged her close. I'm sure my erection dribbled pre-come onto her gorgeous jacket, but neither of us seemed to care at the moment. "Elle, thank you. You have no idea what that means to me." I've never whined about wearing a condom. It's not nearly as bad as some guys make it out to be. I have to admit, though, the few times I had gone bareback before, with other women, the feeling was incredible. I reached down to where her tucked skirt left her exposed and caressed her again. "Let's go inside."

Elle pulled against me. "No. Let's do it out here."

"WHAT?" She had kept her voice low. I'm afraid I just blew whatever discretion she was trying for.

"Why not?" Her whisper had the sweetest tone, and the most reasonable. "No one's looking. Even if they did, they couldn't see below the railing." She was right about that. The wall around our little porch came waist high, maybe a bit higher. "And it's nice out here. I want the sky to see us."

The temperature was just on the cool side of ideal, I had to admit. We both had our tops on, too, even if they weren't buttoned. The hypothetical observer might be titillated by her open jacket. Even unbuttoned, though, it still covered her breasts. Still, I was a little slow getting used to the idea. "There's nothing to lie on here." The concrete floor looked uncomfortable. "And I don't think the chairs will work."

"Silly," she said. "Who needs that stuff?" With that, she turned, flipped her skirt up to her waist, and leaned onto the railing. "How's this?"

I stepped forward and grabbed her. That pose did the very most for the gorgeous curve of her hip and waist. Her feet stood a little apart, and the lower part of her labia bulged sweetly below her cheeks. My erection slid between her legs in an instant. I hugged her bottom into my lap, leaned over her back and whispered, "You are the hottest thing on earth, you know that?"

She had reached down between her legs in front to grab my erection, and was sliding it between her labia. "Tell me about it."

As she had done with me, I started murmuring happy sounds in her ear. I'm not sure what I said. I'm not even sure it made sense. It probably didn't. She rocked her hips to slide my erection between her labia, giving me the most incredible feelings. At one point, she pressed back and tipped her hips way up. She played with her clitoris, using me as her toy. That didn't make for the most coherent conversation. It didn't matter. Only the voice mattered, hers or mine, regardless of what it was saying.

Elle pulled way forward, off my penis. Then she reached back with both hands, her chest on the railing, and opened herself. "Come inside me, Ian. Please."

I forced myself to go slowly, making sure she was slick enough inside for comfortable entry. I forced my own responses to a slower pace, too, or I would have come when I got the first inch into her. We slid together easily, though. Elle shifted her hand to my erection once I made it between her labia and she guided me farther in. That's when I realized what those sandals were for. They lifted Elle's pelvis a few inches, so our heights nearly matched. Even though she was shorter than me, I didn't have to scrooch down to her level to enter her, or only a little. I should have known. Everything Elle does, she does for reasons.

As I said, I never minded condoms all that much. This was heaven, though. That tiny difference in the feeling between us made a huge difference. I pressed until the tip of my erection opened that ring of muscle at the edge of her vagina. That barrier that seemed to define 'inside,' and I was past it. I held for a moment, savoring the sensation. Elle seemed the impatient one, though. Once her body had a solid hold on me, she let go with her hand and pressed back toward me. She wanted me deeper inside, just as much as I wanted to be there.

I held Elle's hips firmly and pulled her close. Her round bottom, her skirt bunched at her hips, our point of union -- well, it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my life. And, although I knew in some intellectual way that no one could see us, the last of the sunset and the sliver of moon made me feel naked to the world. I suddenly realized what Elle meant. I wanted the world to witness us together like this, with our human and animal selves merging as Nature meant for them to.

I was soon in Elle to my full depth, as much as our standing position allowed. We developed an easy rhythm, with her moving on me as much as I moved in her. Once that reached a comfortable pace, I leaned forward. I put some of the weight of my chest on her back and brushed the lapels of her jacket away. Elle's magically soft breasts swung as we moved. They're not big, a luscious B if I remember right, but their softness meant they dangled low. I collected one in each hand as I lay across her back, and gathered them close to her chest.

My movement at that point consisted mostly of bucking hips. I rocked and thrust into her, my movements getting sharper and stronger. Still holding her breasts from behind, I locked my elbows on her hips. That let me pull her back onto me, hard, and her own movements grew stronger with mine. I almost whispered, 'Elle, play with yourself,' when I realized I could feel her fingers working near where our bodies joined. Instead, I grunted, "Elle, I'm going to come."

I held her against me harder than ever, rocking almost out of control against her. Our thighs slapped together, the backs of her against the fronts of mine, then I tugged hard. I pulled her strong, sleek waist against my stomach. I grasped her breasts closely, feeling lush softness yielding to me. I pressed my cheek against her back, feeling sinew and bone respond to my urgency. I felt her huge, deep, feminine power accept my strongest thrusts, absorb them, transform them into deep caresses. I poured myself into her with a few last spasms, then held her hard until my orgasm released me.

Before that happened, however, Elle's whisper took on a desperate tone. "I'm coming too, Ian. Hold me. Hold me. Ho ..." The words vanished into a squeak. Elle can be loud, but bit the sound back. I felt her hip buck back against me, rotate, and shift, so she swirled my erection inside her. I was too caught up in my own orgasm to follow what she did, but gave her body all the pressure and power I could offer. More, there always seemed room within her to absorb more of my strength. The more she absorbed, the more her body wracked with orgasm.

My peak passed just as hers arrived. I held her close, grasped her waist between my arms, found nipples between my fingers. Her knees buckled, but tension in mine was there to support her. Eventually, her bitten-off moans quieted. She slumped onto the railing, all at once, like a puppet with the strings cut. I held her close, feeling my fading erection withdraw from her, and mumbled loving things about beauty, her body, and womanly strength.

It seemed as if the last glow of sunset faded with the last glow of our orgasm. Quiescent, my penis could barely touch her vagina, let alone fill it. I released her breasts and brushed her lapels somewhere near her chest. I smoothed her jacket. I found the edge of her bunched skirt, and pulled it back over the most beautiful hips in the world -- after a kiss goodbye for each one.

Elle just rested against the railing while I pulled my pants back up. I buttoned, zipped, and buckled. All the while, I tried to keep one hand on her waist, or at least my lap against her back side.

When I was done, Elle stood. She un-tucked her skirt from the front and arranged it around her. She was adjusting the light jacket around her bare breasts when I came close behind her and put my arms around her waist. She took one of my hands in each of hers, pulled them tighter around her, and leaned back against me. She looked up with a dreamy gaze. "The moon saw us."

"Elle, the river, the bay, and the sunset saw us. The world saw us. They made a beautiful place for us."

"They did. I think we used it right."

"We did."

She rocked a little as she leaned against me. It felt almost like a slow dance, one with no music. After a few minutes, she turned to face me. She wore a huge grin, and reached over to kiss me (the heels made us even, pretty much). After a quick kiss, she pressed a cheek to mine and hugged me close. She whispered, so I could barely hear, "Ian, you're leaking out of me."

Chivalrous instinct took over before thought. "I'll get some tissues." In truth, I could do with a wipe, too.

She wouldn't let go. "No, silly. It's OK. I've always used condoms so I never felt it before, just a little of my own wetness. This is what real fucking feels like. It's happy and it's sloppy. This is part of it." She leaned into me again and rocked. I have no idea what that meant, but she was happy so I was happy.

"I don't want to leak on the floor, though." Elle backed away. "I'll be back in a minute." She went back into our room, kicking off the heels on the way in, and worked her way to the bathroom. I collected myself while she carried out her feminine mysteries. I got the shirt buttons aligned with the right holes, and got myself looking as respectable as ever.

Elle almost skipped out of the bathroom. Her flat shoes were still near the door, so she slid them on. "Let's go dancing."

Why is it that sex puts men to sleep but gives women so much energy? I rallied myself, stoppered the wine, and headed toward the door with her. I checked in the mirror before I left, and checked her, too, for dribbles on our clothes. I didn't see any on me. As I suspected, a snail-trail of pre-come marked the front of her jacket. I pointed and started to say, "Uh, Elle, ..."

She looked down and fingered the damp trail. "Oh. Can't have that, can we?"

Elle took the jacket off and hung it up, leaving her gloriously topless. Her breasts bobbed and swayed as she walked over to her bag, rummaged in it for a moment, and retrieved a black camisole, one with lace trim and spaghetti straps. She pulled that on, turned to me, and asked, "How's this?"

I've never seen her look better, at least not with clothes on. The skirt showed off the curve of her hip, the minimal top showed the slim grace of her upper body, and her braless state caused a mouth-watering jiggle with each motion. Friction against her top seemed to bring her nipples to life, too. "That's the kind of clothing you put on just so I'll rip it off, right?"

"Maybe later." Elle took my elbow and we went out.

If we had been alone in the elevator, her skirt would have been around her waist again in a heartbeat. I was vividly aware of her nearly-naked state, just one hemline away. The scent of sex around her kept me in a permanent state of erection, too. Instead, I contented myself with standing in the back and groping her bottom, where no one else could see what I was doing.

When we got to the lounge, I suddenly realized just how much I had had to drink that day. It had been well spaced out, with plenty of food to go with, but added up to a fair bit. I ordered just a club soda with lime, and Elle did the same. When the next slow tune came up, Elle pulled me to the dance floor. I'm not much of a dancer. I do it for Elle, though, and she puts up with how bad I am. We alternated, munching the bar peanuts and sipping club soda, then joining about every other dance. On the second or third, Elle flashed an I've-got-a-secret smile and said, "You're leaking out of me again." Then she leaned against me, so I could feel her warm breasts against my chest, leaving me to imagine just what was going on at her shaven pubis.

"God, girl, you give me the biggest erection just thinking about it." I kept my voice low, for her only.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She continued the conversation just as quietly.

"Not bad, not at all, but it's going the wrong way down my underwear. That gets uncomfortable."

Were other couples having these conversations on the dance floor? If so, it's the closest I've ever been to an orgy.

"Ohh, poor baby." Elle pressed against me. I'm sure she could feel it aimed down my leg. "When we get back to the room, can I kiss it and make it better?"

She must have felt it twitch at the thought. "Yes," she said, "that's what I'll do. I'll take good care of the little guy. I'll hold him and kiss him and make him all better."

"Hey, pretty lady," I answered, "are you trying to get yourself fucked again, right here right now?" I held her hip close to mine and rubbed my erection against her.

"Hmm," she answered, "let me think."

A dance or two later, the long day caught up to both of us. On the way back to the room, we had the elevator to ourselves. I grabbed her for a juicy kiss. While I was holding her, I worked her skirt up so I could hold that lovely smooth butt with both hands. I pulled her close, my erection between us, and almost came in my pants. I dropped her skirt when the elevator slowed, but kept my hand on her butt all the way back to the room.