Part of a series of short stories with the common connection of 'Naked' and placed in various sections on this site. Some of them are funny, some are sad, some are quirky but all reveal the many facets of human emotion in all its naked rawness.
If you like this one, please read:
Naked Revenge under the Exhibitionist and Voyeur
Naked Grief under Non Erotic
Naked Fear under Non Consent and Reluctance
Naked Lust under Exhibitionist and Voyeur
Naked Greed under Fetish
and watch out for Naked Hate coming soon.
*
He stood wobbling on the narrow ledge high up on the outside of the building, the window behind him closed, the cold night cloaking his nakedness. Looking down three floors, his heart beating in his chest he saw his clothes laying on the entrance canopy where his lover had thrown them out the window just before she had closed it as her husband had entered the bedroom.
Frantically assessing his situation he could see the windows of the building opposite, the lights out. Glancing left and right he saw the ledges of the windows of the apartment building he was balancing on the outside of, a few feet between him and them, and the fire escape four windows along to his right.
He could make it.
If only he could keep his balance.
If only he could move from window ledge to window ledge.
If only no one saw him.
Looking down the street below he could see no people, and therefore his modesty and position might be hidden from curious eyes. His hands held on for dear life to the edge of the bricks each side of him, the rough red brick slightly damp with the night air.
The hairs on his body were standing on end, both with the cold and with fright, and his cock that had only minutes before been hard and ready was now limp and hanging, pointing down towards the pavement below, as if the eye at the tip was assessing the drop that waited for him if he didn't make it to the fire escape and freedom.
Edging his foot along the narrow ledge, the slick feel of the window glass against his naked buttocks he moved sideways a small pace, the feel of his blood pounding in his ears. Behind him he could hear raised voices. A man and a woman, his lover and her husband screaming at each other, whilst he timidly edged his way towards the next window ledge and the black iron structure that would be his way down.
Small sideways step by small sideways step he moved, his fingers grabbing at the coarse wall, his toes gripping the white concrete sill, his body leaning as far back as the glass behind would allow.
Reaching the edge of the ledge he was on he took a deep breath and closing his eyes and mentally crossing his fingers he moved his right foot out tentatively towards the next ledge and window, the space between his ledge and that one less than a few feet, but seeming to him a wide gaping hole waiting to let him fall. Feeling the hard surface below his bare soles he moved his body weight to the right, shifting along, hands desperately gripping, until he straddled both ledges, the feel of rough brick scratching at the naked skin of his back and bum.
It was then he heard the voices below.
Laughter drifted up to him, women's laughter.
Looking down he saw the three women walking the four stories down, oblivious to the naked man balanced above them, his prick and balls exposed to the cooling night air, his mortified face showing his horror at finding himself in such a vulnerable position.
Standing still straddling the two ledges he held his breath as the women walked up towards the end of the quiet side road and disappeared around the corner, away from him. Away from discovering the show high above their heads of the naked man, and so shuffling along and manoeuvring his weight to the right he managed to progress his left foot across the space to join his right on the next ledge.
One window nearer freedom.
One ledge nearer escape.
Behind him he could hear music. The last track on the CD he and his lover had put onto the music system only a short time before, slow and romantic it mocked him as he stood there alone and afraid on the ledge. She had laughed as she had chosen the disc, telling him that before it finished she would have made him cum, and she had started to remove his white shirt before the first track was halfway through. The shirt that now lay like a dead swan on the dark blue canopy of the entrance to the smart and fashionable apartments where his lover and her husband lived, a white stain far below him, out of reach.
Small steps, shuffling along he moved to his right, the night air tightening his nipples so they stood out in a parody of how they had been as she had raked her nails across them as he had bent his head to kiss her in the room behind him. Closer and closer towards the next window he sidled along, holding his breath, praying that with each small step he would be safe and that the ledge would hold.