At Fuced Up

The place smelled vaguely like bleach and stale sweat. I maneuvered Kat through the aisles to toward the back where the video booths were. We were in uncharted territory and the possibilities streamed through my head at the speed of light. What would she do if presented an opportunity? My entire body tingled.

Several months had passed since Kat revealed her sexual past to me and, tacitly, her desires, and our sex life had escalated to levels I never could have guessed. Over the first month I came up with more extreme stories to tell her and for her to fantasize about when we had sex.

In the second month, we made a quantum leap. On the first occasion I had her do what she'd done several times before when we were seated at a booth--take off her panties and give them to me. Her chest had flushed red and she'd looked around nervously before rocking side to side quickly, and swiftly handing me her panties under the table. The next time we weren't seated at a booth, but at a table near the middle of a dimly-lit continental restaurant.

"People will see," she hissed.

"So?"

"So we'll get kicked out," she said quietly.

"We'll go somewhere else."

"I really wanted to eat here. Wouldn't you be embarrassed?"

"No," I smiled. "We don't know any of these people and we'll never see them again. If we get caught, they'll tell the staff, who will discretely ask us to leave, if they or the staff even care. Maybe two or three people will know. Maybe four. Chances are better that no one will say anything. They'll be too embarrassed or incredulous to do anything other than wonder if they saw what they thought they saw."

She stared at me blankly, then casually looked around. She shifted to one side and I imagined what the view must be from the next table as I pictured her pulling her skirt out from under her. She hunched and did a tiny hop in her chair. I smiled widely knowing that her panties had made their way to her thighs.

"Would you like some more tea?" the waiter offered and she jumped, her knees smacking the table. He nearly dropped our appetizer in my lap.

"Sorry," she grimaced at his surprised face. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." He looked confused and backed away, forgetting about the tea.

Kat watched him go, her face flushed bright red. "I told you," she hissed.

"And I told you. He had no idea."

I expected her to stop, but her bare knee briefly appeared at table level then disappeared again. She glanced around before her other knee made a similar appearance. She studied the medallions of steak au poivre we had ordered as an appetizer, then slid her tightly-clasped hand slowly across the table at me. I covered her hand with mine. She slowly relaxed and withdrew, leaving her panties in a moist bunch in my loosely clenched fist.

"Wow," I said, squeezing her panties in my hand.

Kat blushed again and stabbed a medallion with the slender fork the waiter had left. We finished our dinner without incident. Afterward, she directed me to a dark corner of the parking lot and we fucked in the backseat.

After that success, we became bolder. "Leave your panties at home," I told her the next time. She didn't hesitate. "Scoot your chair back and spread your legs a little so the waiter can catch a glimpse," I instructed her the time after that. She'd protested, but had complied anyway. Eventually she left the house in panties only when her cycle arrived.

Not long after it became normal for her to forego panties, we'd gone to the movies and I'd told her to remove her skirt and give it to me. She did without hesitation. The next time, emboldened by the sparsely populated theater, I had her strip naked. She didn't hesitate, but sunk down to hide.

When she realized there was almost no one there, she grew bolder and eventually sat normally. We took the exit to the alley after the last patron left and she waited there while I drove the car around.

We went to more movies that month than in the rest of our relationship to that point. The next time I parked near the alley and she walked, clad only in heels, to the car, spending several titillating seconds in plain sight, though no one saw her. A week later I parked farther away. Several days later I parked at the back of the parking lot.

The parking lot wasn't huge, but was large enough to hold a hundred cars, maybe more. At a normal pace, she could cross it in a relatively short time. I knew she was nervous. I watched from the car as she poked her head around the corner several times, waiting as an overweight man in a struggling Chicago Bears sweatshirt labored through the parking lot, munching on the remnants of his popcorn.

To my surprise, she emerged from the shadowy alley a few seconds later and nonchalantly started her journey. My eyes darted between her and the Bears fan, who seemed oblivious to anything not covered with salt and butter.

Until he wasn't.

For whatever reason, he stopped and turned around, then froze. She saw him and maintained her journey without pause, smiling politely. His popcorn hit the pavement as his gaze tracked her to the car. She got in the car as if everything were normal and we left as she explained that she could hear movie theater employees bringing trash into the alley.

"It was either flash one guy who might not even notice me or stand there in an alley with several people who definitely would," she said.

"How long did it take you to decide?" I teased. Her eyes met mine. I sensed a snappy remark teetered on the tip of her tongue but something gave her pause. To my further surprise, she said nothing and relaxed in her seat, her fingertips casually drawing circles on the inside of her thigh.

After the next visit, she stood and waited for the theater employees to walk into the alley and stood there, waiting until she was sure they'd seen her before she turned and walked across the parking lot.

The next month passed at an unsustainable pace. We met for lunch at The Roaring Fork and I dared her to give me blowjob in the alley between the Stephen F. Austin Intercontinental Hotel and the adjacent parking garage. I couldn't believe when she did and watched nervously as people strolled by on the sidewalk not thirty feet from us, completely unawares.

Despite my nervousness, I came a couple of minutes later. She stood, smiling broadly at me, then stopped and the smile disappeared from her face. I followed her eyes and saw two workers on the loading dock, staring at us. She dragged me out of the alley and into the parking garage where we made a quick getaway.

To my further surprise, she called me several days later to meet her for lunch, again at The Roaring Fork, the wicked glee flowing so thickly through the phone I was nearly choked by it. As I parked, her text message told me to look down the alley before going to the restaurant. My heart pounded.

I nearly flew down the stairs to the ground level and skidded to a stop at the corner. I peered, slowly, past what used to be the entrance to Mike's Pub and saw her standing on the other side of a dumpster, chatting with several men who were standing on the loading dock. I wondered if she was setting us up for a repeat performance, but knowingly this time.

I stepped into the alley, a smile spreading across my face. One of the workers saw me and nodded in my direction. She turned towards me and held up her hand. I stopped, confused. She undid the button on her coat and shrugged it off.

She wore only black high heels.

Blushing at the catcalls and whistles behind her, she struck an Amazonian pose, feet past shoulder width, fists on her hips. I stood, mesmerized. I wasn't expecting this. A strange look of triumph on her face, she jerked her head back, signaling to me to join her.

Seconds later I fucked her from behind against the side of the dumpster, while the workers on the dock made lewd remarks. I slammed into her as deep as I could go and came.

"Hey, baby," one of the men said, "Can I be next?"

I whispered in her ear, still pumping semen into her, "What do you think? Want to let him have his turn?" Her pussy grew warm and she moaned. Suddenly struck by inspiration, I added, "Or all three of them?"

The heat around my cock spiked and I felt her spasming. "Is that a 'yes?'" I teased and started to withdraw.

"No way," she hissed, snapping out of her reverie. A few moments later she let them watch as she squeezed my remnants onto the concrete in the alley and, replacing her coat, we headed off to lunch. She paused as we rounded the corner and glanced back at them. I didn't let on that I'd caught her, but I could barely contain my smile.

A week later we repeated our performance and she only mildly protested when the boldest worker, the one who'd commented before, jumped down from the dock and massaged her breast while I came inside her. When the others hopped down, she grabbed her coat and fled, smiling and shaking her head as she walked briskly away.

We didn't return to the alley behind the Stephen F. Austin, but she was addicted to our public displays. Next it was the alley behind the movie theater while the theater employees watched. We returned until one of them tried to join in. She protested, but let him cop his feel, and we didn't return.

We moved on to the small side parking lot near Moonlight Grill and performed for some of the restaurant staff who were on a smoke break. Same as before, we returned for repeat performances until one of them decided to touch her, which she again allowed reluctantly, signaling our final appearance at Moonshine.

Next we moved on to the alley behind The Belmont, where a tiny parking alcove nestled into the back and was hidden by buildings on either side from all other than those driving through the alley and passing right by. We parked in the adjacent parking garage, whose exit stairwell let out into the alley barely 20 feet from the parking alcove.

On our second repeat performance, I dared her to leave her clothes in the car. "The stairwell is always empty and everyone takes the elevator anyway," I told her. "If we get caught, the stairwell is right there. Two or three seconds away, if even that."

"If we get..." Her brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. I wasn't sure if she was contemplating the consequences or the possibilities. "I think it's...safer...taking my coat...with me," she hesitantly concluded, her mind still somewhere else.

She stood next to me, looking into my face but not seeing, her fingers drumming slowly against the bare skin below her collar bone. I could see the struggle within, her indecision over carrying one vestige of safety with her versus letting slip the dogs of war.

"Give it to me," I finally said, "and turn around. I'll make the decision and you won't know if I'm carrying your coat or leaving it behind."

"I know what decision you're going to make," she said as she shrugged it from her shoulders and handed it to me without pause. She turned and headed for the stairwell, the echoing click of her heels sounding in sharp contrast to the chaotic noise of nighttime traffic of downtown Austin.

I lingered to watch Kat. After a dozen steady steps and no backwards glance, she disappeared between two parked cars. I heard the creaking stairwell door open, then slam shut a moment later.

I stood as if rooted, wanting to burn every detail into my memory. It was slightly chilly but not uncomfortable, clothes or not. I could hear the muffled sounds of music from some band, probably playing at Red Fez. It sounded like Ill Camino but, then again, a lot of local bands did. Gibson leads and rhythm, fretless bass, seven-piece kit.

I could smell something glorious wafting up from the street but couldn't pinpoint it other than it was the smell of searing beef and onions. It could be from some rat-trap lunch truck selling the most delicious street tacos imaginable or it could be from a hundred dollar filet at the Headliners Club next door. I couldn't tell.

It was a vintage late fall evening in Central Texas, the sort that won over hundreds of thousands of people in the last several years. Music, food, drinks, weather, beautiful men and women--for miles.

And in my own insignificant corner of this false paradise, a tall, lean exhibitionist, hips swaying as she strode away, the swell of her breasts visible for nanoseconds as her arms swung, the icy blue pallor of the night lights on her flawless skin. I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, then started for the stairwell.

At the bottom I opened the door a tad and peered through the crack. Kat was calmly leaning against the brick wall in the alcove across the alley. I inhaled sharply as a car roared through the alley, but relaxed almost instantly as it became apparent it wasn't hesitating on its journey between Lavaca and Guadalupe Streets.

If it affected Kat, she didn't let on. I headed through the door, checking for other oncoming cars, and moved to join her, dropping her coat inconspicuously near the corner of the brick building. When she saw me, she turned and put both hands on the wall, bending at the hips.

I was hoping we'd have an audience, but there was none. No busboys on smoke break. No kitchen assistants taking out trash. No waitresses dashing out to check their texts or e-mail.

No matter. I moved behind her and caressed her buttocks. She shivered and shifted, arching her back a little. I moved one hand around between her legs. I felt heat emanating from her before I touched her.

She was soaked, and moaned as I invaded her with one, then two fingers, and rubbed my knuckle against the hard little nub I found. I unzipped my pants and pushed into her, shocked and excited by the heat that suddenly engulfed my cock.

We fucked for a few minutes, near orgasm, when she froze and her head turned to the left. In the deep shadow at the juncture of the brick building and the building next to it stood a young man, probably Hispanic but difficult to see in the pale light, masturbating.

She relaxed, now somewhat accustomed to fucking in front of an audience. I stroked into her slowly, making up an excuse in my head that I hadn't seen him because I was so intent on Kat.

Her head kept turning towards him and he gradually emerged from the shadow. I gestured him over and he reluctantly made the few steps distance between us. I reached around and massaged Kat's breast, then nodded at him. He reached for it haltingly, then cautiously put his hand on it, moving slowly and gently. I felt the heat between Kat's legs spike and a moan escaped her lips.

The young man massaged her breast in earnest and I noticed his hand was still on his cock. I took Kat's left arm and moved it down toward his manhood. She froze when her hand nudged him, but she quickly relaxed and permitted him to massage himself against her hand. A few moments later, she began stroking him.

My own motions slowed as I watched her jerk him off. I stepped back and came free from her. He reached for her buttocks, then stopped and looked at me. I nodded again. He massaged her breast with his left hand and her ass with his right, while she stroked him. I silently pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the camera app.

As I took a video, I noticed his right hand was making broader and broader sweeps until he was brushing closer to the inside of Kat's thigh. He looked at me again. She wasn't hesitating, so I shrugged. His hand immediately went between her legs. Her knees buckled. My cock was rock hard. I'd never seen her let anyone go this far before. Sometimes she let one or two of them feel her breasts, but that was where it stopped.

She moaned while his hand worked. Her moisture glistened on the insides of her thighs, all the way to her knees. Moments later I held my breath as he moved behind her. Her left hand returned to its place on the wall and she arched her back again, presenting her sex to him. As if shocked by what she'd done, she froze and looked over her shoulder. Her mouth hung open and she breathed heavily.

He looked back at me and I shrugged again. She moaned loudly as he pushed into her. She began shaking almost immediately. She threw her head back as he pounded into her as fast as he could, the slapping sounds of his thighs against hers echoing around us in the small alcove. Seconds later he thrust into her and groaned. She made odd choking sounds, like she was struggling for breath and her head slumped forward as she shook again.

The young man quickly pulled out of her and, looking guilty of something, disappeared through the back door to the restaurant. The door had barely closed as I propelled myself into her and came.

We stood there, locked together, and heaving for air. It didn't take long before she came to her senses and whispered, "We have to get out of here." We made the corner and I was wrapping her coat around her as the kitchen door opened and several men appeared. I smiled and waved as we disappeared into the stairwell.

Other than her asking me to hand her a box of Kleenex, we drove home in silence. When we arrived she got out without a word and disappeared, her coat and clothes falling onto the garage floor in a heap.

Still dizzy from what had just taken place, I moved in slow motion collecting her things, walked slowly into the house, and draped her clothes neatly over the back of the sofa. I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks with my toes, looking after where she might have gone. The hallway was dark and uninterrupted by light from any source--not the master bedroom or bathroom or any other room or window shed even a sliver of light into the blackness.

I stared into the abyss, still gathering my thoughts, then went to the liquor cabinet and mechanically grabbed a bottle of Aberlour A'bunadh. I needed something stout. I poured a couple ounces and headed for the balcony.

There I stared through the trees at downtown Austin. I could pick out the building where Headliners Club was, marking the precise area where the night's events had taken place.

I sipped, and the cask-strength scotch burned my nose and mouth, as cold from the ravine crept through the floorboards beneath my bare feet. Halfway through my drink I wondered if I should be worried about Kat and instantly felt guilty that it had taken me nearly an hour from the time we escaped the alley to finally think of her mental well-being.

I shivered at the cold seeping into my bones and shook off my guilt. She'd frozen momentarily, but there'd been no hesitation, no protest, no flight from temptation. She had every opportunity to refuse, I convinced myself, and hadn't. And when the time came, she...

She had a near-instantaneous earth-moving orgasm.

I frowned and Kent suddenly flashed through my head. I shook it off immediately. I wasn't Kent. She had orgasms with me. I was Patrick in this equation. Her anonymous partner was Kent.

But she'd orgasmed. She never did that with Kent. It took me another half hour to finish the scotch and almost that amount of time to decide that this was uncharted territory. I was neither Patrick nor Kent. This was wholly new.

I stole into the house and cautiously put the tumbler on the hard, cold granite at the pass-through to the kitchen. I padded quietly down the dark hallway and stood in the doorway of the master. It took a bit for my eyes to adjust, but I quickly realized she was the lump in the bed. I could hear her rhythmic breathing and knew she was asleep.

I retreated, retrieved my glass, and poured another ounce of Aberlour. I headed for the balcony again and closed the door behind me. I banged the phone in my pocket against the baluster and quickly retrieved it. I'd completely forgotten about the video.

I watched it with the volume subdued, ecstatic at how clear the video was. I could see the glistening of her thighs, see him sawing his fingers into her, see the flexing of his buttocks as he pounded into her.