Our Tenth Encounter: Balcony

For my special muse, Jo

* * * * *

Finally, you call again. It has been long enough that I was beginning to wonder if I had seen the last of you. When you call, you are more subdued than usual, but my excitement at hearing from you overrides your apparent reticence. We chat briefly and you offer no hint of what is bothering you. You suggest we meet at a nearby hotel later in the afternoon, and I agree.

The hours pass slowly, but finally the time arrives for me to join you. The hotel is near my office, and I walk, thinking of the joy that our encounters have brought to my life--each encounter something new and different, special and memorable. Just thinking of you makes my cock hard, and I have to discreetly adjust it in my shorts as I enter the lobby of the hotel.

As I walk down the hallway scanning the doors for the room number you gave me, a wave of uncertainty sweeps over me. I remember the flat tone of your voice when we spoke earlier, and I wonder if you have called me here to dump me. My palms begin to sweat and my gait slows, but no matter what, I must see you again, even if it is for the last time.

When I reach the right door, I see that it is slightly ajar. I push gently and the door noiselessly swings open. I scan the room interior and I do not see you right off. Perhaps the door is ajar because you have already left. As I step into the room I have a view of the balcony, and I see you standing outside staring off into the distance.

I quietly cross the room and approach the open sliding glass door. Because I am walking on carpet, you do not hear me approach. I stop at the doorway and watch you for a moment. The balcony is small, surrounded by a solid wall a little more than waist high. We are on the ninth, and top, floor, so I hear traffic noises from the street below. You are wearing a stylish plaid skirt and silk blouse, and your left hand holds a glass of wine. You sip from the wine as you continue to stare off into space as if you are in a trance.

A slight quiver of your ass draws my gaze downward, and I notice that your lower body is moving rhythmically. I realize that you are using your right hand to masturbate as you await my arrival. As I watch, your motions become more active. You sit the glass of wine on the patio wall, and slide your left hand up under your blouse to caress your breasts. Your ass is now moving back and forth, pressing your pussy against your invading fingers. I cannot see what is going on, but I envision your fingers first rubbing your clit and then sliding in and out of your now slippery cunt. I hear the sounds, little moans and chirps, you always make as your body reacts to your practiced touch and you approach orgasm.

Your ass is jerking now as you focus on your clit, bringing yourself ever closer to the edge. And then you cum—violently. Your ass pumps against your hand that must be braced against the wall. I cannot tell if your fingers are up inside you or if you are simply pounding your clit against your hand. You moan, a long low moan, and the movements of your ass begin to subside. You place both of your hands on the balcony wall and lean against it for support. I watch for several minutes, giving you time to recover, before I move onto the balcony.

I move up behind you and press my crotch against your ass. My unannounced arrival startles you, but you recover quickly. You press your ass back against me, and I feel your warmth invading my pants and heating up my already hard cock.

I feel you hands move between us and unfasten my pants which then slide to the floor. I pull down my shorts and your warm hands immediately grasp my cock, pulling me toward you. You guide my prick to the opening of your aroused pussy, sliding it slowly up and down between your engorged lips. Without warning, you push back against me, and my cock glides effortlessly up inside of you. So warm, so tight, so wonderful. We remain that way for a moment, enjoying the closeness of again being joined together, locked pussy around cock, intimacy flowing between us without our having exchanged a single word.

You push your ass back as you lower your upper body to rest on the railing. This provides me with easier access to your pussy, and I begin to thrust into you, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. My cock reaches far inside you in this position, and I feel the cool air swirling around my wet cock as it slides out of you on each stroke. But then I glide back in and I am warmed by the heat of your engulfing cunt.

My hands move to your breasts, massaging them firmly, pinching your nipples, pressing them together as we move together. I feel your fingers moving around the base of my cock, and I know that you are caressing your clit as my prick slides in and out of you. I know that I will not last long, because it has been several days since we were together, and the sight of you using your fingers to make yourself cum has further aroused me.

As I pump my cock deep inside you, I look over the railing and I can see the street traffic below. I realize how exposed we are. I look side to side to see if we are being watched by other residents of the hotel, but there is no one there. And then, it no longer matters. I feel you pushing back against me with growing urgency, and I move against you, trusting harder and deeper, until we cum, cum together, pounding against one another, trying to milk the full measure of pleasure from our united parts and souls.

We remain locked together as my cock shrinks inside of you. It is then that you speak for the first time. "I am glad to see you," you say. My heart skips a beat, but I know that all is well between us, and that whatever is troubling you can be worked out.

I move away from you, and you turn to embrace me. We hold each other, still not speaking, but with warmth and affection flowing between us like an electrical current. I take your hand and lead you into the room. I slowly remove your clothes, gently kissing each new curve as it is exposed. Finally you stand before be, naked butbold, smiling that wonderful, that joyous, smile. I pull down the bedcovers, and you climb in. You watch as I undress and climb in beside you. We snuggle together, each seeking reassurance from the other, hoping we can get past this period of uncertainty.

At first, we do not speak, preferring instead to hold one another. But then, you begin. Your voice is shaky at first as you begin to recount the joys and pitfalls of your personal life. You speak of your daughters, and your love for them beams across the room in your smile. You speak of the uncertainty of your future, your employment prospects and frustrations. You describe your marriage and enumerate the difficulties of deciding what to do next. Your voice is low and sad, the voice of a woman rocked by turmoil and needy for attention and affection.

As you tell about your life, I mostly listen, interrupting only occasionally with a question. I do not want to break the flow of your words in the hope that you will be able to purge some of your demons by sharing the burden with me. You talk for nearly and hour, and then you stop, burrowing against my side, seeking comfort. I hold you close. You seem to relax.

After awhile, you rise and move toward the bathroom. You start the shower and call for me to join you. I stand behind you as you stand in the warm stream washing away your fears and concerns. I take the soap and begin washing you, reveling in the softness of your skin and the smooth flow of your contours. I wash each part in turn, memorizing each bend, each crack, each crevice. You follow my quiet requests to turn, to bend, to rise and stand straight. As I complete my task, you move against me, holding me tightly in your arms. I wrap my arms around you and squeeze you close.

At first I do not notice the subtle heaving of your shoulders, but soon it is too marked to miss. You are crying, sobbing against my chest. I hold you closer, knowing there is no need for me to speak. I want to share your pain, to help you through these troubled times, to give you a place of comfort and release in your world filled, as it is, with chaos and uncertainty. But I know that this is the time for me to simply hold and comfort you. And so I do, hugging you tightly as you flush some of your difficulties from your heart through your tears.

All too soon we are drying off and then dressing. Still we do not speak. I am saddened by the fact that we must soon part again. Always those partings—never easy and always uncertain.

As you prepare to leave, we embrace again. We press our bodies against one another, extracting ever morsel of intimacy and closeness as this encounter draws to an end. We kiss, and I find promise in your kiss, not the ending that I feared. I know we will meet again. I know that you will share your pain with me, and that you will count on me during the coming times of trauma and suffering. We draw apart, and you flash me one last glorious smile before you turn and walk out the door.