Crystal City Voyeur

"What are you looking at. I'm over here."

Austin Clark lowered the binoculars and turned to look at the woman, naked, on his bed in his Crystal House seventh-floor studio apartment. The two women were much the same—both young, with voluptuous bodies—but one was blonde and Amber, the one on his bed, was a redhead. Amber was also here; the other one wasn't. He sighed, placed the binoculars on the table beside the window wall, and turned toward the interior of the small apartment.

Why, with a delicious-looking redhead, naked, on his bed, did he pine after the blonde, he wondered. But it wasn't a wonder to be answered. He just did. Maybe it was because the blonde seemed unattainable.

As if she almost could read his mind, Amber said, "What's the attraction of using those binoculars?"

"Just something Ryan got me hooked on," he answered. "Watching the planes come in to Reagan Airport over on the Potomac. Ryan's two floors up and gets a better view, though."

"What's wrong with the view over here in the bed?" she asked. "Your dick, at least, seems to be happy to see me."

"Why, yes, yes it is," Austin said. Four long strides and he was at the bed. He climbed up on the mattress and straddled her waist with his knees. Amber giggled and then she moaned and grabbed his wrists as he, in turn, grasped her voluptuous breasts, ran his hard cock into the crease between them, squeezed and pressed them together, and stroked between her breasts.

"Austin, oh, Austin," Amber moaned in a breathy voice, and, when he moved up even farther on his torso with his knees, buried the fingers of one hand in the strawberry blonde curls at the back of her head and raised and brought her head forward, she opened her lips to his cock and took him inside.

She'd give him what he wanted. He was a hunk and a half—a handsome athletic blond a few years younger than she was, and with family money, a good college degree, a managerial position, a BMW convertible, and an apartment of his own. He was a real catch for a woman looking for a husband in the nation's capital, where women still outnumbered men—and outnumbered eligible men by far. He wasn't quite a Ryan, but Amber's friend, Heather, had Ryan wrapped up.

She sucked on the bulb of the cock and flicked her tongue over the urethra slit, hoping that that would encourage him not to want to hit the back of her throat with the thick shaft. He was built big and she wasn't looking forward to gagging on the dick. She grasped his ball sack in a hand and ran her fingernails over the wrinkled skin, digging in to tease out the balls and roll them.

It was Austin's turn to moan deeply and to lose interest in the foreplay. Dragging his dick down the crease between her breasts and over her belly, as he quickly moved down her body on his knees, she giggled again as he grasped her hips and raised her pelvis.

But then it was all, "Austin. Oh, shit, Austin! Fuck, Austin!" as he penetrated her, went deep, pulled out, went deep again, and then began a vigorous pumping action. He had one arm under the small of her back, lifting her pelvis to give him deep access. The other hand was squeezing a breast and rolling her nipple between thumb and finger. He was going after he mouth with his, and she opened to him. He was good, very good. She moved a finger to her clit and rubbed vigorously.

For a brief moment she wondered if he'd sheathed himself, but just now she didn't give a shit. He was taking very good care of her. She felt herself building and then, with a jerk, exploding once . . twice . . . three times. She pulled her mouth away from his to give a little cry. He laughed but fucked on until he too jerked, sighed, and rolled off to the side.

She looked over in time to see him pull the spent condom off his cock and toss it over the side of the bed. A sense of relief flooded over her. She hadn't realized she'd been worried whether he was sheathed or not inside her. And with the relief came a feeling of contentment—happiness. He might do—if she could catch and hold him. He promised security, and he fucked good.

She reached over and, his cock in her hand, and lightly stroked it. She felt him relax and emit a low moan. If she could catch him—and hold him. With a sigh of resignation and determination, she changed position, moving her head down his torso, giving him the thrill of feeling her hair brush down his muscled chest and flat belly. She knew he liked that both because he was trembling slightly and because his dick was coming back to life. This wasn't what she liked to do, but with the phrase, "catch and hold" running through her mind, she took his cock in her mouth again and gave him suck.

It was almost a shock to her system when Austin suddenly came alive, grabbed her arms, and turned them both so that she was face down on the bed and he was crouched over her. She cried out in pain and surprise when he entered her again—this time surely without protection and this time in the ass rather than the cunt.

He had her up on her knees, but with her breasts pressed into the bedspread and her arms extended out and above her head, his fists grasping her wrists painfully, his teeth gripping the side of her throat. He was big, all consuming, inside her ass canal, and pumping hard, deep, vigorously. She was whimpering and he was grunting, thrusting hard. She'd been fucked in the ass before, but never this vigorously, this demandingly.

She groaned, wishing at least that she had a hand free to work her clit and to heighten her own pleasure, but that wasn't to be. It was all Austin now, Austin getting what he wanted. Had she gone too far in showing him what she was accept? Was he still worth the effort? Would he expect this from her after they were hooked up? How often?

With a grunt, he pulled out of her, shot his load on the small of her back, and they both collapsed on the bed. They lay there, both breathing hard, bringing their emotions back into check. Austin sat up on the side the bed, patted her on the buttocks, murmured, "That was good, babe," and padded back to the window.

She lay, spent, stretched out on her belly on the bed, taking assessment of how much internal damage he'd done in her ass. She decided she had endured it. If he'd just let her take care of herself in the process, she would have gotten some enjoyment out of it too, she thought. So, she was still thinking of future possibilities. Still including him on the list of possibilities. It was such a rat race before a woman could land a man in this town. You had to fuck a lot of frogs. Austin wasn't a frog, though. He maybe could be trained. But what the hell was he doing now? Shit, it was the binoculars again. What was it with the binoculars? How thrilling could it be to watch planes landing at Reagan Airport? Shit, they both worked at the airport. What sort of busman's holiday was it to spend your free time watching airplanes land from your apartment building?

But Austin wasn't watching airplanes land. Between his apartment in Crystal House and the airport in Alexandria's Crystal City, across the Potomac from Washington, D.C., was, first, the Jefferson Davis highway and then other high-rise apartment buildings. As Ryan, from two floors up, had pointed out to him, there were a whole lot of interesting views to take in in those high-rises between here and the airport runways.

There, in Crystal Plaza, on the tenth floor, was the blonde, still moving around her studio apartment. Still completely nude. Still enticing and arousing. Austin watched her until she entered her bathroom. He was hard again. God he'd like to fuck that blonde. So teasing. Always in the nude when she was home. Never closing her blinds. Did she even have blinds? He'd never seen any in use.

He was hard again. He turned, returned to the bed, flipped Amber over onto her back, and pulled her buttocks down to the end of the bed by her ankles. She gave him a look somewhere between irritation, fright, and want, not being sure what was coming next and whether it was better or worse than what had come before. When he went down on his knees between her spread legs, grabbed her hips and raised her pelvis, and buried his face in her muff, though, she moaned, arched her back, and reached down and held his head into her with her hands.

It was better—a whole hell of a lot better. He just went up seven levels of eligibility.

When he stood and reached for a condom packet, she was purring and watching him through slitted eyes. He split her folds with his newly sheathed cock head, moved deep inside her, and as he leaned over her with his hard-bodied torso and took her mouth in his, she grasped his shoulder blades in her hands, dug in with her fingernails, and began to move her pelvis in countermotion to his thrusts.

Yes, he might be a good catch after all—when he learned to concentrate on what she wanted. And now this certainly was what she wanted.

* * * *

"But I guess you and Ryan go at it like that too." Amber looked pointedly at Heather Hall, her American Airlines ticket and gate agent colleague, in apparent hope of finding all was not peaches and cream between Heather and Ryan. Ryan was the friend of Austin's who Amber kept thinking about as Austin was fucking her. The two were similar enough—Austin and Ryan—for comparisons to be made, but, in Amber's mind, Austin came up just a bit short of Ryan in all categories. She had had the measure of Austin's technique now; she really was dying to know how that compared with Ryan's.

In one aspect, though, she wasn't disappointed.

"Ryan is determined to have it far cheaper than I am," Heather, a bombshell blonde—like with Austin and Ryan, just a little bit more/better in every respect than the redhead, Amber—said. She lifted a hand for the women gathered for their morning break in the back, private, dining room of the Brass Rail restaurant on the Reagan Airport concourse and continued. "It's like the song says. If he wants it all, he needs to put a ring on it."

"So, what, you and Ryan haven't done anything yet?" Lauren Dunn, another of the American Airline ticket agents asked incredulously and with a tinge of disappointment. A tall, thin, black woman, she was nice enough looking, but not close to a match with either Heather or Amber. For some men she was entirely too angular. But then for others she was sensually exotic. She hadn't been able to get even a hint of a rise from either Ryan or Austin, though. Nathan Turner took care of her needs, but he was a little too serious about a relationship for her. "He's always so randy around you, it's hard to believe—"

"We've fooled around a bit, but nothing like Amber's just told us about Austin and her," Heather interjected.

"What's 'fooled around' mean," the fourth ticket agent, Nicole Warren, asked.

"Hand jobs, right?" Amber said, looking at Heather and asserting that the two weren't above exchanging confidences.

Heather was about to respond when two of the four guys who usually took breaks with them, two of Ryan's grounds crew subordinates, Justin Miller and Nathan Turner, joined them, making a fuss of pulling off the neon-colored jackets they wore out on the tarmac. Nathan, a big-bodied black guy made sure he pulled a chair up beside Lauren. It was only a matter of time, all of those present other than Lauren assumed, that it would be before Lauren lost her fantasies about Ryan and let Nathan fuck her—and then, probably, marry her. Amber had told Lauren as much and Lauren seemed to be coming around to the idea. Like Amber, she'd come to D.C. to marry a guy with prospects. She just wanted to fool around a bit en route to the altar.

Speaking of prospects, the two blond hunk alpha dogs of the group, Ryan, the chief of one of the airport's ground crews, and Austin, the manager of the Brass Rail restaurant, came in soon after. At this point all lead in the conversation went over to them.

Austin made a point of sitting away from Amber, and she, as well, made a point of not looking at him. He, of course, had no idea that she'd given the women present a thrust-by-thrust description of their tryst that weekend. He sat next to Nicole and either didn't notice or didn't understand why her eyes got big and she shuddered and moved her chair a few inches away from him. She had almost fainted when Amber described the anal play. She'd never even imagined that as a possibility before. During the conversation, she couldn't take her eyes off him, though, and if he took the time to tune into her. He'd be home free to have her ass—literally. As Bacall said in the movie, all he'd need to do was whistle.

"Did you all hear the screaming out there?" Ryan said, as he turned a chair and straddled it backwards. All of the women present except for Heather swooned slightly in his direction. The chair only had a half back on it. His trousers material was stretched clearly in sight across a bulging crotch the way he was sitting on the chair. He laughed as he captured everyone's attention. "Some fool streaked the concourse."

"In the nude?" Nicole asked, her eyes big.

"Starkers, yes." Austin answered with a laugh. "A body that should never have been unclothed."

"Unlike any here," Ryan said, letting his eyes sweep those gathered. And it was true. They were all among the beautiful people, even the guys on the ground crew. Looks were part of the job description for the female ticket agents—and for the manager of the restaurant, for that matter—and muscles went with the job of a member of the ground crew. Ryan, Justin, and Nathan were just blessed to be good-looking hunks in the mix.

"I sleep in the nude," Amber said, a private little smile on her face.

"I know you do, and that's not all you do in the nude," Austin shot forth, receiving a dirty look from Amber.

"Don't we all?" Ryan said, with a laugh. "Sleep in the nude, I mean."

"Heather is in the nude whenever she's alone in her apartment, isn't that true, Heather?" Amber said, turning a malicious eye on the woman whose forearm Ryan was stroking.

Heather rose from her chair. "Whatever. It's time to get back to work now, though. But maybe you and Austin might want to stay behind and have a go at it on this table . . . Amber, honey."

Ryan and Austin gave each other knowing looks, which both Heather and Amber caught even if the others were trying to ignore the innuendo zipping around in the room. This was pretty typical for the sexually charged coffee breaks these people indulged in—the tension was the main glue that held the group together. They had been floating around each other long enough that they were pairing off. The stars of the group, Ryan and Heather would have been hot and heavy already if they could have a meeting of the minds on where sex would lead. Austin and Amber had just succumbed. Lauren and Nathan didn't seem to be far behind. And, if Justin had his way, he'd be having his way with Nicole. If she didn't escape the group, this fate probably was inevitable.

The tension that was running through this, though, was caused by Ryan and Heather. All of the women wanted Ryan and all of the men wanted Heather. The natural pairings would be second best, and Ryan and Heather were just rubbing it in by not coupling all the way with each other.

Heather and Amber were working the same departure gate this afternoon. They returned to work by different routes and they would be frosty toward each other for the rest of the day, but they would have forgotten it all by tomorrow. Heather was actually happy Amber and Austin had coupled. Amber had been showing too much interest in Ryan. And Amber felt a bit superior that she had done with Austin what Heather claimed she hadn't done with Ryan. Ryan and Austin were so close that undoubtedly Ryan had heard what Amber was willing to do and would be sniffing around her.

That proved to be the case. He showed up to Amber's door in the Crystal Plaza that evening with a bouquet of flowers, a box of candy, a glowing smile, and a handful of condoms. He used three of the condoms and, as he was dressing, with Amber stretched out, cooing and exhausted on the bed, he said, in a breezy voice, "That was a great lay. I can see why Austin was whistling."

"So, are you going to be at my door tomorrow night too?" Amber asked, her voice full of hope.

"I wouldn't count on it, doll. I'm pretty much a one-shot guy. And you've got Austin. We like to share and compare notes. I didn't half believe you'd do all Austin said you would." He gave her a licentious look and popped his tongue inside his cheek.

The vase hit the wall beside the door as he left.

Meanwhile, in his own apartment in the Crystal House, within sight of Amber's apartment, Austin was fucking Nicole in the ass and introducing her to a whole new world of sexual stimulation.

* * * *

The day was really too hot and steamy for Heather to fight the Saturday morning crowd at the Market Basket grocery store and lug a week's worth of groceries the four blocks back to her Crystal Palace apartment house, but it had to be done. As usual, it seemed, Justin Miller was lurking around in the lobby of the apartment house when she entered it. In addition to his job at the airport, he was a super in the apartment house, his unit being off the lobby here. But it seemed like he also was on hand when she entered or left the building.

He saluted her and, putting on an expression that was more "glad to see you" than she really felt, she waved at him and said "Hi" as she waited for the elevator that would take her to the tenth floor.

"Everything working well in the apartment, Heather?" he asked.

"Sure, Justin. It's all fine , thanks."

"You'll be sure to let me know if there's anything you need, won't you?"

"Sure thing. Thanks." He was OK at the airport, when he was with the gang, but he seemed a little weird at the apartment house—especially the part of him always seeming to be there when she hit the lobby. He was good looking, though, and had a very nice body. All of the guys in their group did. Still, Heather would be glad when he and Nicole realized they were a pair and became absorbed in each other. Nicole was a little weird in her own right.

Heather entered the apartment and put the grocery bag down on the kitchen counter. First thing she did was to pull her sweater over her head, unzip her skirt and slip it off, and fold both articles of clothing and drop them on the bed of her studio apartment.

Ryan had gotten her off to the side at the airport the previous day and pulled her into a clinch, kissing her and fondling her breasts. God, she wished he'd make some sort of commitment. She couldn't stand going this long without sex. But the breakup had been so bad with Kevin, that copilot for American. She'd given him everything and gotten no commitment in return. She was determined that that wasn't going to happen again.

She went into the kitchen area and put the groceries away. While she had the freezer open, she pulled out the ice tray and dumped ice in a tall glass. Taking one of the cubes while she closed the freezer, she applied it to the back of her neck and rotated her head. If she didn't cool down fast, she could conceive a headache building. It wasn't really a "too hot" headache, though. She recognized it as a "not getting enough" headache.

Filling the glass with iced tea, she moved over to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the Jefferson Davis Highway and a bank of high-rise apartments on the other side of the road. For more money, she could have gotten an apartment on the other side of her building and gained great views over the airport runways toward Haines Point on the other side of the Potomac and the Washington monuments beyond. But she couldn't afford the view and this side of the building was buffered a bit from the noise of take offs and landings at the airport.