A New Aspect

It was her turn to pause, her shallow breathing the only evidence she was still on the line. "I am a we."

I was stunned. Didn't have time to process it before she spoke again.

"My husband. He likes to watch as well."

"God. Did he like it... me?"

"Very much. He says you have beautiful breasts. I tell him to watch his mouth; mine are still a handful."

I laughed automatically and eased a little inside this bizarre conversation. She continued.

"That is why I am calling. He wants to see you again."

My heart leaped into my throat. I wasn't sure about that at all. "In... in person?" Dammit, why had I answered the phone? What had I led myself into?

"No. In the window. He was not finished. And I want him to finish."

That at least was of some relief. Then it dawned on me what she meant. "You were fu...? You mean the two of you were...?"

"Fucking. Yes."

"Wow." I felt a surge of pride again. Not only had I driven this couple to sex, they had watched me while they were doing so. It took me a few moments to calm myself enough to speak. "And you... you want me to show off again, dressed like this?"

"Yes. But he wants to see everything this time." After a beat she added, "I do too."

I breathed out heavily. I was not comfortable with showing my face and told her so.

"You can keep your anonymity. We prefer it that way. But he wants to see your wet pussy."

The way she said 'poossee' and the realisation that if I complied I would be willingly taking part with a knowing audience caused my heart to skip a beat and my skin to tingle. What a thrill. But what pressure. No screw-ups.

Was that stage fright I suddenly felt? That same nervous energy that plagued me when I was playing clarinet for the school orchestra? Back then I could get over it by tuning out my audience and focusing on the notes, but I doubted I could use the same technique here. I needed a different approach. Some people I talked to said they used to imagine their audience naked.

Then it hit me.

"If I do it, I want to see you as well."

I detected a low, hushed conversation; a passionate exchange; probably weighing the pros and cons. Then she came back on the line. "OK. But only the lamp behind us."

I grinned and let out a quiet, happy sigh. "Perfect."

"And we keep the phone line open."

It was my turn to weigh up the counter offer. It would certainly satisfy my audio craving which had thus far gone untended. And who knows what it might do for the couple, listening as well as watching me finger myself for their pleasure. That didn't even take into account what the sight and sound of them locked together in the throes of passion would drive me to. Wild!

"Deal."

"Excellent."

I took a deep breath and stood rooted to the spot, listening to her subtle change in breathing pattern. Slightly faster now; a sure sign of her elevated desire. Desire for me. Desire for her husband to fill her aching insides with his solid cock and slam her up against the hotel glass. His desire to gaze over her shoulder at me, watching my hands playing across my body, touching myself as he pistoned into her wetness. What a situation.

Slowly I began to move towards the desk, the phone cable trailing behind me. Upending the red wine bottle into my glass I took a large gulp then sauntered as naturally as I could to the window. As I ruffled my hair into my face I reached the edge of the room and looked out, my creamy breasts heaving and exposed. It seemed easier second time, but I still felt the rush; the illicit combination of fear and excitement at breaking a social taboo. It was almost addictive.

A few floors above me to my right, just past where the building changed direction, I saw a faint glow radiate from their window. Shortly after, shadows cut the pool of light into dark, human shapes. I tucked the phone under my chin and spoke.

"I see you."

"We see you. No need for warm-up. We are already very warm."

I smiled beneath my hair. "So am I."

"Do you think you can come again so soon?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I can. Depends on the circumstances."

"I think you can. I think you will. My husband wants you to try."

"Then help me. Talk to me. Tell me how I'm doing. Let me hear you enjoying me."

There was silence for a good few seconds, the pair of silhouettes moved closer then she let out a low groan. It was music to my ears. Animal parts of me kicked into gear immediately. She hardly needed to add "He has his fingers inside me," because I knew it already.

One hand held the phone body while the fingers of my other traced the contour of my waist and hips, sliding effortlessly beneath the soggy fabric of my underwear to catch against the silkiness of my instantly awakened sex. It was my turn to gasp and I almost dropped the phone at the unexpected current that supercharged my skin.

I bent to put the phone on the floor. "I'm going to put you on speaker. I need both hands." Fumbling with the arcane buttons on the console I found the speaker button and engaged it. "You still there?"

She breathed affirmation, perhaps lost in her own world that existed between her wet pussy and the actions of her husband's digits inside.

Standing, I cupped my ample bosoms and showed them off to the couple I could see silhouetted above me. Two nameless people I would never meet yet would share a bond with in this dismal, immoral city. Maybe others, tired of the slots, would glance out of their hotel rooms as they shut the curtains and be mesmerised by a single horny girl and a pair of lovers acting as one into the night.

That thought alone fuelled me to grind my hips as if the music was still playing and I dirtily slid both hands into my panties and squeezed my shaved lips together, then parted them. The sticky residue that still coated my labia smacked into the quiet room; maybe the pair could hear that over the speakerphone.

"Did you hear my wet pussy opening? Do you like watching me play with myself?"

The woman hissed, "Yes, I love it when you use your fingers like that."

I was unsure if she meant me or her husband but drove my fingers into my slick channel and moaned quietly. She moaned back which turned me on faster than I could have imagined. Somehow knowing I was being enjoyed and being able to hear the direct link between action and consequence, yet still not really knowing who the mystery pair were, had me breathless and panting against the window.

Turning seductively and slowly to face into my room I thrust my panty-clad bottom towards my watchers and bent low, holding my calves. I heard the Spanish lady gasp and then rhythmically begin to moan. I writhed in unison hoping to turn them on with my tempting rear and wondered if he preferred my big boobs or curvy butt. She answered for me.

"He adores your ass. Show us more. We have zoom."

Oh God they're filming me? That changed everything, yet strangely changed nothing. My stomach lurched amid a wash of self-consciousness, but the rest of me started sizzling on the sexual grill, limb by limb fizzing beneath the surface. The knowledge of being the focus of attention from an unwavering lens, while initially shocking, quickly became just one more reason to do it right; to give the performance of my lifetime. I charged into my new role with exaggerated movements, gyrating for them and the camera, grinding my bottom against the window. Baby definitely did a bad, bad thing.

"Wonderful," she panted. "Now take them off."

I slowed to a stop and began to do as I was told, hooking my thumbs into the waistband and peeling the sodden garment down over my shapely rear. The panties rolled up and clung to the lower crease where my thighs met my derriere, then snapped free of my damp nether lips. The air conditioning felt cool against my slick, exposed pussy but had a long way to go before it would have an effect on my core temperature. Gliding my underwear down over the shimmering hold-ups to pool at my feet, I stepped out of them and heard her exhale. "Yessss. Show us your tight ass."

With more theatricality than necessary I wiggled in the window, naked except for my hold-ups glinting silver specks as they caught the low light of the lamp. The couple had told me to hurry but I figured it wouldn't hurt to tease a little, especially if they were going to enjoy my performance as a repeat on video, so I danced for them, twirling and thrashing my hair around, giving them plenty of front, rear and profile glimpses of my lithe, curvy body before returning to face away from them, bending at the waist again. She groaned deeply.

In a positively dirty, yet alarmingly natural, act I reached around and spread my cheeks, exposing my puckered hole for them and the city to enjoy. My pussy tightened and left a fluttering void in the pit of my stomach that lust quickly filled. I didn't need reminding how depraved I was but it warmed me to be told anyway.

"You're such a dirty girl. I want to taste your asshole."

I stepped forward a pace and spanked my bare behind. The sound echoed off the walls of the hotel room and found its way to the phone on the floor between my legs. He slapped her in return and she cooed with delight. "Yeah, spank me baby."

I had a desperate urge to look so I stood and whirled, almost forgetting to swoosh my hair in front of my face. In the window above me I could see her bent at the waist, hands pressed against the glass and a shape standing behind her. The way her breasts swayed and her breath came in rhythmic grunts told me she was being taken roughly. I saw his hand rise and seconds later the crack rang into my room. My bottom flushed in sympathy as she let out a little scream of joy and a dribble of wetness leaked onto my already clammy lips.

"Is he fucking you hard?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it rough?" I spat.

"Ohhhh, yesss."

"Show me."

I cupped my tits again, pinching my distended nipples as I listened and watched his hand deliver blow after blow to her bare behind. Each sharp crack that met my ears was punctuated by a scream and a sigh, and I could hear his balls slapping against her as he pounded into his woman. The sight was enough to take my breath away, but the sounds of their lovemaking topped off the effect and blew my twisted brain; I had to steady myself against the window, staring slack jawed at the raw sex I had instigated.

Between slaps and spanks, she rasped, "We need... you... to come. Hard."

Although I was turned on and getting wetter by the second I felt I wasn't about to lose control in a delicious orgasm so soon after my last. I had to do something to hurry things along and scanned my room for clues. My gaze landed on a shape beneath the desk. My bag. My vibrator. That would do the trick.

Momentarily leaving the couple fucking noisily into my phone I skipped back into the room, rummaged through my belongings and withdrew my sleek and powerful Silver Shadow. We'd seen some action together in the course of our short time together and the combination of power and smooth, long shaft had made it one of my favourite toys of late.

On my way back to the city view I retrieved the chair I had knocked over earlier and placed it purposefully, very close to the window. With no more pretences about what I was doing and the growing desire to bring myself and the couple to climax -- both now and on subsequent viewings of the tape -- I straddled the chair, leaned back to tip it and swung my feet up against the glass. With my soles pressing against the window I flicked on the vibrator using a practised motion, dipped it inside my honey pot for lubrication and brought its buzzing end in direct contact with my clit.

I convulsed at the touch and backed off, having overestimated my level of arousal, settling for just tickles around the edges of my protruding jewel. Every so often I slid the device down my glistening lips and thrust the entire shaft into my pussy, groaning each time as the loud hum turned to a murmur while it titillated my soft walls.

The Spanish lady rasped, "Fill your cunt." It came over as 'cont'. "Let us see and hear you lose control. Fuck yourself."

I was more than willing to oblige.

As the minutes ticked away in slow motion, the vibrator began to have its desired effect. My body was starting to energise again, despite -- or perhaps because of -- not fully discharging from my previous orgasm. The millions of tiny levers and gears inside my brain began to work as one towards a unified goal, heightening my desire, sharpening all of my senses so I could revel in the impending rush of hormones. My actions became bolder and stronger and my clit begged for stimulation from the buzzing surrogate phallus.

Touching and teasing my jumping button had me gasping into the room. The sounds from upstairs being channelled through the tiny loudspeaker beneath me relayed all I needed to know; that my actions were appreciated. The woman cried into the room as her husband picked up the pace and reamed her pussy, accompanied by staccato cracks of his open palm against what must be her very red bottom. The screams of ecstasy that followed drove me higher; propelled me to ream my juicy folds with the hard vibrating shaft and tease my tender cluster of nerve endings with its unrelenting pulses.

With each stroke inside my creamy box and each spasm of my throbbing clit, I allowed the rich tapestry of my imagination to transport my mind into their room. I could see them bucking against one another, his hips jack-hammering against her body, rippling the flesh of her ample bottom that glowed red from his hand prints. She pushed back into every thrust using the glass as leverage, rhythmically moaning as his hot tool sank home; crying out as he plunged savagely into her depths and drew back soaked only to slam in to the hilt again while she clawed the window.

I wanted to be her. Wanted him to fill me full of his thick cock, jamming it inside me repeatedly as I watched the city lights below swim in and out of focus with each jarring lunge. I wanted to be watched, admired and craved as I was fucked and spanked and abused by this stranger. Badly wanted to come for everyone's delight, feeling the deluge of spunk firing towards me from every peeper's window as if they were all shooting into my voracious tunnel.

Damn I was dirty. I really was an animal. The vibrator pushed me closer to the edge.

Every so often the couple would slow down or stop for a short period. Whether this was to change position or to kiss or to crowd round the camera's tiny screen and watch my orgasm approaching I'll never know. The shapes in the window would move, huddle, and adjust while appreciative coos and single, breathless words of encouragement floated over the phone speaker. Then they would start up again, fucking and panting and moaning and spanking, spurring us all on. We became like a feedback loop, each of us fuelling the other with our depraved acts in front of the night sky.

Stealing glances at the pair of them fucking wildly and hearing them clearly through the phone, had me galloping towards orgasm in record time. One of my hands pinched and squeezed the proud nipple of an ample breast while the other razed my clit with the vibrator and circled it in time to the screams in the other room. The machine buzzed noisily like an angry wasp as it delivered its glorious pulsating payload straight to my core and had me shivering in spite of the heat inside me.

I was horny beyond belief and panted wildly into the room. As if preparing for a gynae exam I shucked my body down into the chair, down, down further, feet still pressed firmly against the glass. I ran the tip of the vibrator around my tight arse hole and shuddered at the tingling rush it gave me, then brought it to my pussy and sank its length fully inside, letting it go. With my fingers I began furiously frigging my humming clitoris, drawing ragged circles with the digits of one hand as my other sprang to my tit as if magnetised. Yet again I pinched and pulled at my red nipple, tweaking and groaning loudly.

Above me the action was equally frenetic. The lady was imploring her husband to fuck her deeper, interspersing it with compliments on how sexy my show made her feel, how she'd love to return the favour one day as I watched her masturbate. Her voice invaded my thoughts and I imagined the two of us performing together in a single window for the city as our slick bodies pressed and slid against one another, perspiration clinging to our glowing skin, faces and tongues seeking out hot, wet slits as our orgasms ripped through our bodies simultaneously and her husband captured it all on film.

My pussy contracted deeply at the vision and the vibrator slithered out, smacking against the window and rolling away on the plush carpet before I had chance to react. I suddenly felt very empty but was so close to coming I rammed my fingers inside my sopping box and drew them against the front wall of my channel, crushing my clit in my palm. Mere moments away from release, my body went into overdrive.

Yanking my fingers from my slit I focused on my tiny pearl as it jumped for joy at being the centre of attention, throbbing with anticipation. Round and round my fingers went in a blur as my clit responded and pulsed. I walked my fingers rapidly either side of my excited button, wetness clicking into the room, and sank further into the chair so my bottom was hanging off the seat. I tipped my head back and slid my knees and feet apart. My bottom pressed against the cold glass and I jumped. Then, in a strange moment of clarity a wicked thought formed.

With a little manoeuvring and some gymnastics I pressed the base of my scorching cunt firmly against the cool window. Splaying my lips with my fingers a little come leaked onto the glass and made a sticky imprint for all to see. I then returned to rubbing my clit as it quivered.

"Can you see that?" I called out to the couple. "You said you wanted to see everything. Is that on your sordid little tape?"

Juices oozed from my splayed lips onto the window and dribbled down the glass as she responded.

"Oh, beautiful... yeeeessss."

The high octane fucking in the other room rose to fever pitch. She moaned and groaned, voice climbing higher with each thrust as I watched the silhouette drill into her depths from behind and saw her breasts crush against the Vegas window. The speaker on the phone tried to reproduce her screams as accurately as it could to my eager ears. "Oh. Ohhh... God... oooooohhhh."

The surge of hormones rose like the great flood inside me and I prepared for the storm, muscles tensing while my fingers skipped over the desperate knot of nerve endings at the top of my shaved, spread cunt lips.

"I'm going to come," I yelled.

The phone rustled as she must have picked up the receiver, and her voice was suddenly sharp and clear in my room. "He's fucking me but thinking of you," she panted.

That sent me over the edge.

A tidal wave of emotion pulled back, momentarily collapsing into my centre before bursting forth and flooding my body. My neurons couldn't keep up, my hearing dulled and through half closed eyes I could see the Spanish woman's mouth forming the Ohs of her own climax. I imagined the man filling her horny, drenched pussy with hot spunk as he erupted inside her, the torrent spilling out and cascading down her legs as he pounded mercilessly to her vocal delight. Except her face was momentarily replaced by mine and he was filling me with his boiling seed. My ravenous snatch gobbled it all up and my pulsing channel gripped his shaft, keeping all his sticky output where it belonged: inside me.

Then the vision was gone and as I closed my eyes I was visited by silhouettes of men and women who had all paid to see me perform. I was lying on a bright red stage, legs up in the air and a queue of people shuffled forward. Each man took up a position between my legs, sank his cock deeply into my pulsating body -- choosing my soaking pussy or tight arse as befit his preference -- and then moved on. The women in the queue would lick or finger me, just once each, then glide up over my body to the stage; some of them even stopping en-route to sit on my face, letting me lick their dripping pussies clean of the delicious juice that my act had produced. Each person wanted a piece of me; wanted to use me; they'd paid to watch and their reward was a sample of the wanton creature they had ogled while she masturbated for their collective pleasure.