From The Balcony

Bethany stood on the small balcony that stood high above the reception area just inside the front door. Ever since she was a small child she had stood there on party nights, watching the guests gather, and admiring their fine clothes and jewels.

Once she had turned sixteen she was allowed to join some of the parties, and after her eighteenth birthday she attended them all, but she still liked to stand above everyone watching them gather.

It gave her a little thrill to be watching them unseen, even though she was in plain sight. No-one every looked up.

She hadn't changed into her party dress yet. Her party things were all laid out on the bed in the room behind her, and soon she would have to hurry up, shower and dress. But just now was her time, looking down unseen and watching the performers gather.

She sensed him come up behind her. Mike, her boyfriend, her lover, her future.

"Hi, Mike," she murmured. "It's odd, you know, but no-one ever looks up and sees me here. I've been watching them for years."

She heard Mike breath an answer, but didn't turn. A wandering hand settled on her bottom, lightly stroking her. She giggled.

"Now, now, Mike. This is not really the time or place."

The hand didn't waver, moving smoothly over her bottom. Suddenly it dipped slightly, down below her skirt and then back up, this time on the inside of the skirt. Now there was only a thin piece of lace undies between Mike's wandering hand and her sensitive skin.

Bethany found herself twitching her bottom about, liking the feel of Mike rubbing her, laughing to herself, because all those people could see, if they just looked up. Well, they'd see her, standing there laughing quietly. They wouldn't see Mike or the hand on her bottom.

Now both of Mike's hands were on her bottom, paying some interesting homage to it. It felt as though every inch of her cheeks were touched on by those roving hands, and they gave her such exciting feelings.

She gasped as one hand dipped lower, sliding between her legs and rubbing against her mound. She shuddered slightly, as tingles spread from where Mike was touching her, and heat stirred deep within.

"Stop it, Mike," Bethany hissed. "This is not the time or place. Later, I promise. We just don't have time right now, especially out here."

"No-one ever looks up," he whispered in her ear, and she shuddered again. What did he mean by that?

The answer came quickly as she felt her panties being slowly pulled down. Those wandering hands returned, and her bottom felt them intimately, caressing her gently and, she suddenly realised, moving lower to where her pussy was no longer protected.

Bethany gasped as a hand slid between her legs, cupping her mound and squeezing her. Mike was slowly tormenting her, building up a desire that he had no intention of assuaging right now. It wasn't fair. But, oh, it felt good.

She sensed Mike straighten, his hands leaving her bottom and pussy. Leaving them trembling and wanting more, but leaving. She felt her t-shirt being plucked loose from her skirt waist, and then a hand snaked up under it and unclipped her bra.

Mike's second hand joined the first, and then they both slid around to cup her breasts, hidden beneath the t-shirt.

Bethany stood still, hoping desperately that there would be no change to custom. If someone did look up, what would they see? Probably nothing, Bethany knew. Those hands weren't on display. If anyone could see her clearly, they'd just think she had large breasts.

"This is not fair, Mike," she muttered. "You know it's not."

Her answer was a soft laugh, but the hands withdrew. But not to go away. Again they slid gently over her bottom, teasing and tantalising, with the inevitable drift down between her legs to the really sensitive areas, tormenting her pussy, with busy fingers pushing their way inside her.

Bethany's hands were tight on the balcony rail, her body squirming slightly as she writhed under that gentle touch. How could something so gentle raise such havoc inside her? The fire that had been lit was now flaring brightly, and her face was flushed from the heat.

"Enough, Mike," pleaded Bethany. "You're driving me wild. You'll have to stop. I have to get ready."

She twisted away, trying to turn and face him, but his hands held her in place. He was nuzzling the back of her neck, his lips hot against her skin and she trembled. His hands were now still, one of them just casually resting on her pussy.

Then she felt the first hint of intrusion. The hand on her mound gently eased her lips apart and something was pressing against her inner flesh. Bethany froze, feeling Mike's penis moving oh so slowly into her, edging her lips further apart and making room for itself.

"Mike," she protested. "You can't."

Apparently neither Mike nor his penis agreed with her. Mike kept up a gentle pressure and Bethany could feel his erection sinking ever deeper. His hands moved away from her, letting his cock continue its journey by itself. His hands, it seemed, had other duties.

Up under her t-shirt they came, finding and capturing her breasts, holding them firmly while Mike's cock continued its slow advance. Bethany found herself moaning slightly as Mike took possession of her. He'd never felt this large before, standing on the balcony with the people moving around below were obviously heightening her senses.

Mike felt bigger, her nerves were more sensitive, her nipples seemed to be screaming for attention, her breasts were swelling until they felt twice there size, and her pussy was clamouring for more.

Bethany's hands were white where she clasped the balcony rail. She could not believe she was standing in her favourite viewing spot, full of cock, and it was starting to move. Bethany clung desperately to the rail as Mike slid deeply into her, released her and then returned rapidly, his every lunge exhibiting a driving need for her, a studied intention to brand her in his own mind as his.

Bethany found herself relaxing, moving with the rhythm, smiling and enjoying the delicious assault on her senses. Mike's hands were squeezing her breasts in counter point to his thrusting, setting up a jangle of nerves being constantly agitated.

There would be a hard thrust into her, followed by a slow withdrawal while hands squeezed her breasts. Then the hands would release her breasts, which was the signal for Mike's cock to launch its next attack.

Bethany was lost in the wonder of it, her senses turning inwards, feeling, not thinking, letting the emotions being engendered by Mike's cock and hands build up until they were strong enough to carry her away.

Bethany felt a little voice inside herself trying to attract her attention. "There's something wrong," it was murmuring.

"God yes," thought Bethany. "If anyone looks up they'll know something is wrong. But no-one looks up. It's always me, looking down."

"Something's wrong," came that nagging feeling, but Bethany ignored it. She'd worry about it afterwards, she decided, and lost herself to sensation.

She was gasping, she was going to climax but she mustn't scream. Then she was falling over the edge, feeling Mike flooding her, and was relieved when he clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling her involuntary shriek.

Then he was just holding her while he quietly disengaged. She could feel his semen on her and in her, and cursed him under her breath. He knew she preferred him to wear a condom.

"That was so unfair, Mike," she muttered, still looking at the crowd below, trying to work out what was bothering her. Then she saw and, shocked, she spun around to face Mike.

He wasn't there. No-one was there. Bethany turned back to view the crowd.

She was right. There was Mike, talking to her father. But if Mike was there, then who? She saw movement to the side and glanced over at the stairs. Michael, Mike's father was descending, looking completely relaxed. For one moment he stopped, looked up at the balcony, and smiled.