Balcony Scene

She sat heavily on one of the chairs, facing him, and lifted her legs over the armrests, spreading her thighs wide. Spreading her pussy wide. The early peep of sunlight illuminated her honey-milk skin, glistening with cum.

With her left hand she smeared Davey's fresh semen over her face and breasts, rubbing it right in. Meanwhile she formed the four fingers of her right hand into a column and thrust them vigorously into her flowing cunt, her thumb bouncing against her clit. Her lustful gaze never left him.

From this distance Davey could catch a few muttered words.

"Ohhh, dirty fucker! Unngh! Spurting your creamÉ ahhÉ all over. FaceÉ titsÉ mouthÉ urrrgh"

"Joaney?" The voice came from inside the apartment.

Joan shot a warning glance at Davey, but he had already recovered his shattered wits enough to crouch down in the shadows.

The man padded onto the balcony and saw his wife in her explicit pose.

Good God, woman," he laughed, "Don't you ever get enough?"

"Fuck me, Harry," she said, simply. "Take me inside and fuck me."

"I've just had a shower, girl."

She stretched a leg out and let a foot play with his groin, beneath the robe. "Then fuck me in the shower, Harry. I'll suck it so nicely for you, make you nice and big."

"God, you'll kill me!"

He grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet. Then he bent down and in one movement threw her over his shoulder. He slapped her on the backside as he did so, making her squeal.

As she was carried inside Joan gave one last grin to Davey and waved a sly goodbye with her sticky fingers. Then they were gone, and Joan's giggles faded into the distance.

All alone, Davey retrieved his shorts and staggered back to bed as quietly as he could. Under the covers he clutched Joan's damp nylon panties to his nose and relived the whole bizarre experience over and over again until he fell asleep.

It was almost noon when he awoke. He could hear his parents moving around. In the bathroom he glanced down at his penis and saw smeared lipstick. It hadn't been a dream.

As he showered he wondered how he was going to react when he saw Joan and her husband again. Butterflies played in his stomach.

He dressed and went along the hallway. As he approached the balcony he saw his father sitting at the table, eating, and his mother leaning back in a chair, chatting animatedly to someone That Davey could not see on the next balcony. 'Well, here goes,' thought Davey.

His mother saw him arrive. "Well, here's Sleepy-head," she said. "I hope You're not going to spend the whole two weeks in bed."

Davey got outside and glanced as casually over the wall. Two maids were tidying the place up. He felt strangely disappointed.

"Have you met the neighbours yet?" he asked his mother.

"There's a nice young couple on that side" - she pointed at the other balcony - "and the people on this side on this side moved out early this morning. Just as well, with the noise they were making last night."

His father looked up. "I didn't hear any noise," he said.

"No, you were dead to the world as usual, snoring your head off."

"What sort of noise were they making?" asked Davey, innocently

His mother reddened. "Never you mind," she said. "I'm just glad they're gone, that's all. You should get something to eat."

Davey got some orange juice and walked to the edge of the balcony. In his mind he could see Joan gazing at him as her husband fucked her, could hear her shout "Oh, you've got a gorgeous body. I could fucking eat you right up!" He felt his cock swell beneath his shorts.

"We were planning to visit the monastery this afternoon, son," said his father, "would you like to come with us?"

Davey studied the tourists wandering along the street below him, especially the women. Lots of them, from eighteen years old to fifty. Single, married, divorced. He looked back at his father.

"No, Dad," he said, "I think I'll take a stroll around the town and see who I can meet."

AN END