I Thought I Had the Roof to Myself

I go to the roof a few times a week now to tan. It's higher than most of the buildings around, although you never know what people can see. I don't care though. I take off my bikini top and sometimes inch my bottoms down while I'm lying on my stomach. Who hasn't seen a butt?

My tan is coming along nicely. I still get a thrill out of tan lines like I did in high school, when I'd put a heart-shaped sticker right above my pelvis to track my progress. My shoulders are golden and the tiny hairs on my arms have turned blonde, like little filaments of sun.

I go up early today because it's supposed to be a hot one. It's still tolerable for the moment and there's a nice breeze, and as I untie my bikini top I feel the blooming of arousal. I don't consider myself an exhibitionist, but knowing I'm naked above this bustling city, the small possibility of someone catching a glimpse from another roof or window, turns me on.

I lie face-down on my quilt and shimmy out of my bikini bottoms. The air is thick and warm and feels glorious against my skin. I spread my arms for a moment, basking in it. I mentally trace the stitching of the quilt beneath me as it criss-crosses my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. A rush of wind like hot breath and I am squirming in delight, the earth pleasuring me with gentle fingers.

Then, a noise. The scuff of a foot behind me.

I turn and see a tall, broad silhouette against the sun. I quickly tug my bikini bottoms back up and shade my face with my hand, keeping my bare chest against the rooftop.

"Sorry! I didn't know anyone was up here," says a man's voice. He has an accent I don't recognize and I still can't see his face. His silhouette stays in place.

I reach for the strings of my top and try to tie it on from behind.

"Don't worry, I'll go to the other side," he says. "You can stay there."

He moves and now he's in the shade of the rooftop doorway. I see his face and recognize him as a neighbor from the first floor, moved in just last month. He nods politely in the hallway when we pass each other. Hot as hell.

"Oh ok," I finally say. I let the strings drop on my bikini. I'm still face-down so it's not like he can see anything but my back. He pauses and smiles, looking shy.

"You look great," he says.

"Thanks," I say back with a grin. Then I surprise myself: "Want to join me?"

Without a word he peels off his shirt, revealing a lean torso and rippling abs. I scooch on the blanket as he kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his shorts and kneels behind me.

He's wearing white briefs which I find charming, almost old-school. They're stark in the sun against his rich skin and I want to reach up and grasp him, stick my hands in there and feel him, pull the elastic down and see him bare and smooth like a Roman statue against the sky. But I stay put and watch, hand shading my eyes.

He watches me too, kneeling there above me, that shy smirk still on his face. Then he moves to straddle me and reaches for my bikini bottoms, slides them back down over my hips. He pulls them all the way off and now he's grinning, openly taking me in.

"You have a beautiful body," he says.

Maybe it's the sun making us fearless. We're drenched in hot light and we're squinting against it. Everything feels both exposed and hidden. Suddenly the normal rules don't apply.

He leans down and I feel his breath against my neck, working with the sun and breeze to alight my skin like a sparkler. He kisses my neck gently, then my shoulders, then the square of my back. I put my head onto my hands and close my eyes so I can feel it all. Feel him run his tongue slowly up my lower back. Lower now, on the insides of my legs, then up my crack. Despite the heat I shiver.

He reaches for my shoulder and it's time to flip over. I sit up and look at his face, and he's like a god smiling down at me, sun turning the tips of his hair golden. Still I resist the urge to pull down his briefs, wishing more than anything to extend the beauty of this for as long as possible, and instead put my hands on his ass. He's firm and smooth with muscle and I pull him into my face, feel the soft cotton, breathe in the warmth of him for a moment. He's hard and I run my lips against the length of him, feel him pulse with excitement through the fabric.

When I pull back he leans down, takes one of my breasts into his mouth and nurses it. I study his straight nose, his full mouth, the pink of his cheeks as he sucks my nipple. He takes the other breast and does the same, urgently now, like there's something to drink and he's parched, needing it, swallowing me.

He comes up for air and then pushes me back so I'm lying down again, face up. Then he pulls down his briefs and he's outlined in light, perhaps created by it, a shimmering mirage in the desert, and he is more an energy than human as he pushes into me, presses his weight onto me and fills me up. The air dances around our melding forms and whips our hair around our faces and I see nothing, only feeling.

He moans and becomes human again. I feel the reality of that inside me. His shoulders flex, his ass pumps, his calves tighten. He drips with sweat and I taste it, lick the saltiness off his neck, his chest, his bicep. Our sweat mingles and we're slippery and overheated, feverish. He can't go deep enough.

The sun's right there with us, flattening me with heat, filling every orifice. It glistens and winks on our wet bodies. I arch my back against the quilt, push my hands into the searing black rooftop. I don't know now if it's him or the sun expanding within me, pushing everything outside, building with warmth and energy until I scream, the sound echoing across the buildings around us.

Somewhere on another rooftop not too far away, I hear a congratulatory whoop.