Across the Breezeway Pt. 04

Part 4

While the chili simmers Vincent has time to reflect on more than just the sexy pictures Darla sent him from her car. She'd said when she got here she wanted him to use her to come in. A sexy request, but it didn't escape him that it was the same thing she told him she'd said to those dudes when she told him about what she'd called the best sex of her life. She'd told him in that encounter she'd come so good she'd fainted.

Vincent isn't jealous about that, and he doesn't judge Darla for living out her most freaky hardcore sexual fantasy. She's a grown woman. She's free to live her life however she chooses as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. What he wonders is if that past experience was so good for her, will she ever want to do it again. When he'd asked her that before she hadn't given him a definitive no. She'd talked about regretting doing it while she was doing it even though it was the best sex of her life. Based on what she'd said, if she had told him she never intended to do it again he wouldn't have thought she was submissive.

When Darla told him about her triple penetration experience she hadn't gone into detail. She'd seemed hesitant to tell him at all, but they'd been having a conversation in which they were being honest about their sexual history. He thought part of her hesitation was because she'd thought he might judge her. He hadn't judged her, other than to conclude that she was a very sexual woman. Well, most women were sexual, even if they wouldn't admit it. Still, with minimal details from Darla he got the big picture. Just like with him, she'd had a sexual history discussion with Hakeem. She said she'd told Hakeem that being with three men, being pleased in all the ways she enjoyed being pleased all at once, was her hottest sexual fantasy. She'd said she'd only told Hakeem her fantasy because that's what they were talking about--their hottest, freakiest fantasies. She hadn't expected that it would ever happen, but Hakeem made it happen for her. She didn't say Hakeem forced her to do it or even had to talk her into it. She'd only said she'd regretted it while it was happening, but that it was good. The best of her life.

Vincent figures that having to do things they might not want to do or wouldn't do if they were in a position to refuse was part of what turned a submissive on. That lack of control. The lack of choice. The lack of personal accountability. Maybe the lack of guilt because whatever you did or had done to you was not in your power to prevent. Well, it was, but a submissive didn't want that power.

Vincent has no problem with Darla being submissive. Though it isn't his personality type, he plays the dominant with her because it turns her on and makes her happy. He doesn't need her to be as submissive as she is, but it is so fucking sexy. It makes her even sexier than he thought she was before he knew what she was. He's happy being involved with her, but he wonders if she can be completely happy being with him. He's sexually open-minded, but he's not into having another dude be with his woman, much less two or three other dudes. And so he wonders if at some point in the future Darla will want to relive that past experience, since she said it was the best sex of her life. If their relationship continues to develop, can she be satisfied never having that again? The only way he can know is to talk to her about it, if she's willing to talk.

Vincent realizes that while thinking he has once again left his kitchen and wandered to where his living room windows overlook his balcony, and beyond the balcony the snow-blasted darkness. He decides that rather than dwell on "what ifs" and ruin the mood Darla getting naked in her car inspired, he'll get his mind off Darla getting gangbanged by making some rice to go with the chili.

While the rice is cooking he leans against the kitchen counter with his phone in his hand, looking again at Darla's latest batch of sexy selfies, taken in her car on the Beltway in a snowstorm. That's another thing different about being with Darla. Besides being a submissive she is an internet exhibitionist, a woman who posts explicit pictures online for people around the world to admire. If he's being honest with himself, he has to admit it's a turn on taking pictures and videos of Darla while knowing others will see them, and then the two of them checking out the online reactions. After reading the reactions they're hornier for each other than usual. It's become a form of foreplay for them.

Vincent figures Darla will probably post some of these new pics online because it's been a few weeks since she posted anything. He pauses his scrolling through the images she sent him, on the selfie of her bare leg raised and her arched foot on the dashboard. That's a super sexy one. The foot fetish crowd will dig it.

He has a video of Darla giving him a foot job, but she can't post it on the website because it shows her face. In the video Darla is sitting between his spread legs facing him, with the soft, smooth, warm soles of her feet caressing and stroking his erection. She was almost as good with her feet as she is with her mouth, because she used her soft soles and the balls of her feet and her toes to manipulate him until he gushed so much precum his erection was slick and glistening. When he got close she folded herself in half and took him in her mouth and stroked him her feet while sucking him. His explosion was volcanic. To make the video even hotter she had let his cum dribble down his shaft to the root, then took all of him in her mouth to lick and suck him clean.

They'd been having sex for about a month then, and that was the second time she'd given him a foot job. After the first time she'd told him she wanted to make a video of them doing it. During their sex talk he'd told her he thought a foot job could be sexy sometimes, depending on the woman. She'd told him she liked the idea that she could make a man come using any part of her body--her mouth, pussy, and ass, her hands, feet, and voluminous breasts--and they'd even joked about things like ear jobs and forearm and armpit jobs. Back then he'd had a feeling Darla wasn't really joking. Now he knew it for certain.

When it came to sexual experimentation and fun she was way ahead of him. When she'd suggested that he get a waterproof mattress cover and a rubber bed sheet he'd asked her if it was because sometimes she squirted when she came. She'd given him a wicked smile and said, "Oh, that too." So far they'd kept the wet games she liked in the shower or tub. He figured eventually he'd get around to buying the rubber sheets.

Darla was having an effect on him, changing who he was sexually. He wasn't complaining.

The rumble of a powerful engine, and then a scraping noise pulls Vincent out of his thoughts. He goes to his balcony door and opens it. Down below in the apartment complex parking lot the complex maintenance crew are out in their plow trucks, already clearing the driving lanes. It's supposed to snow all weekend. Maybe these guys are trying to stay ahead of the worst of it.

As Vincent returns inside and closes his balcony door he realizes that he's as hard as stone and the inside of one leg of his boxers is slick with precum. This is the Darla effect. He decides that when she gets here the chili is going to have to wait.

==========

As Darla turns off the quiet street in their Laurel, Maryland neighborhood into their apartment complex, through the thick falling snow she sees flashing yellow lights at the back end of the parking lot. Their apartment complex consists of five buildings: four three-story apartment buildings with twelve apartments each, and the apartment complex office building, a one-story structure that besides housing the rental offices, has a meeting room, a small gym, and outside, a residents-only swimming pool. There's a playground at the back end of the complex.

Driving over plowed snow in the complex's main driving lane, she passes the office building on her left, and on her right the first of the four apartment buildings, which sits perpendicular to the main driving lane. If she were to turn right into the lane that passes between the first apartment building and the next building, where the lane dead ends she would reach the bank of resident's mailboxes. Residents have a key for their own mailboxes. Usually when she gets home after work she drives over there to retrieve her mail before going to her apartment, but in this weather checking her mail can wait. But thinking about her mail reminds her of something Vincent said he wants to do with her. He said he'll wait until the weather is warmer, but not so warm that people in their apartment complex will be hanging around outside at night.

Vincent told her that he's going to buy her a collar and leash, and one night he will walk her to go check their mailboxes, which are about a city block away from their apartment building. He told her she will wear her collar and leash and nothing else. Because she is who she is and certain things turn her on, she'd asked him if he was going to walk her like she is his pet, and if she should drink a lot of water before he takes her out. Vincent had shaken his head at her, given her a kiss that set her on fire, and said, "Puss, you're something else."

Puss.

He'd called her Puss, as if she was his pet, his kitty. She likes his nickname for her.

He really would have thought she was something else if she'd told him how that particular fantasy had evolved since he'd told her about his intention. Now she imagined that Vincent, her man, her owner, would walk her on her collar and leash to the complex mailboxes, and on their way there or on their way back she would need to go. She would find a nice spot on the grass and squat and pee like a good girl. And then, while holding her leash, Vincent would step to her and take out his dick and she would suck him while she was peeing. Like a good girl. And then he would need to go too, but she wouldn't let him out of her mouth. Because she was a good girl.

In her fantasy of her perfect life, super-hot things like that would be her norm. She would be married to the man who owned her, married so that they would be one flesh under the laws of Nature and of man, and because they were one flesh united by love and passion, there would be no part of either of them that did not belong in the other. He would be her best friend, her confidant, her partner, her protection--and she his--against the world outside their love for each other. That was her ideal life. She was thirty-six years old, and she had never been married because she had not yet met a man she felt could turn her absolute fantasy into her reality. She thought Vincent might be that man. Yes, she was ahead of him in some things sexual, and no doubt she had had more out-of-the-box non-vanilla experiences than him, but he was coming around.

Their building is the last one on the left. The parking lot for her building is at the back end of the complex. Lost in her thoughts, as she reaches the back end of the complex, where the main driving lane ends at a T-intersection Darla almost has to brake to a skid on the plowed surface so that she can turn left into the parking area for her building.

The parking lot has a single driving lane, with parking on the side adjacent to their building for vehicles with resident stickers on their back windows. The parking spaces on the far side of the lane are for whoever. Beyond those far spaces is a section of grass and then a stand of mature trees that block the view of the house on the other side of a chain link fence. Darla hadn't paid much attention to the parking lot layout for her apartment and how much privacy it provided until the day she sucked Vincent off out on his balcony.

On one amazing Sunday morning, back when she had first managed enough courage to leave her apartment naked and walk the maybe dozen steps along the breezeway to Vincent's apartment, as soon as he opened the door for her he had taken her hand and led her inside and then out onto his balcony. She had experienced a moment of panic, because now she was naked outside his apartment, and anyone down on the sidewalk or out in the parking lot would see her if the looked up and their way. But it was a quiet Sunday morning. No one was out and about yet. The trees across the lot that blocked the view of the house on the other side of the complex were thick evergreens. She realized that as long as no one came outside from their building and happened to look up, no one would see her.

Then she realized that Vincent had placed one of his dinette chairs on the balcony and placed one of the cushions from his loveseat before the chair. His camcorder sat on the chair cushion. She had understood. She got on her knees on the cushion facing the chair. Vincent was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He had picked up his camcorder, swung his leg over the chair, and before he sat down, pushed his sweatpants down. He wasn't wearing underwear. Seeing his dick, hard for her and swinging free in the outside air had killed her trepidation about being naked out on his balcony and set her on fire. He used his camcorder to video record her naked out on his balcony on a quiet Sunday morning, licking, sucking, and deep throating his dick, and then coming on her waiting extended tongue before she swallowed his gift to her.

When Vincent had played the video back for her she saw that he hadn't just recorded her giving him head but had panned the camera over her body to fully capture her nakedness on her knees in the sunlight, zooming in on her ass, and other times for a closeup of her lips wrapped around his thick brown length, but had also panned around to show their environment. The balcony. The stately evergreens across the way, backdropped by a blue autumn sky. The parking lot three stories below. She hadn't realized because she had been focused on pleasuring Vincent's dick with her mouth that a few vehicles had come and gone down in their parking lot while she was giving him head. If the occupants of those vehicles had happened to look up at Vincent's balcony they would have seen her naked on her knees sucking his dick. As she had watched the video playback the sun's glare on the vehicle's windows had prevented her from being able to tell if the occupants were looking up and their way. What if some of her neighbors had seen her up on Vincent's balcony, naked with his dick in her mouth? What if some of the people who lived in their building who smiled at her and said hello knew what she had done, or had seen it with their own eyes? That was a terrifying yet hot thought.

That video was one of her favorites, and she had wished she had the courage to post it online to let people see her servicing her man, let them see him using her mouth because she was his property to use for his pleasure. But she wasn't going to show her face online. People who knew her might see it. It might cost her her job. Still, the thought of people seeing her pleasuring Vincent with her mouth became the genesis of a new fantasy in which she sucked his dick and swallowed his cum in front of people. Maybe a small gathering. Maybe a big crowd. It would happen because she belonged to him, was his absolute property, and he could have her whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, and however he wanted her. If people were around to see, then they would see. Of course she would be terrified, but she belonged to Vincent, and she knew he wouldn't use her in front of others to embarrass or degrade her, but rather to show her off because he was proud of her. And though she would be terrified, she would be proud to be shown off by him, would be pleased that he was proud of her, his property.

Such a perfect relationship.

When Darla reaches the backside of her apartment complex and turns left into the parking lot for her building she sees that all the parking spaces on her left and adjacent to the sidewalk that runs along the front of their apartment building are taken. The forecast of the storm must have made the neighbors in their building hurry home to hunker down. She is going to have to park on the far side of the driving lane, in the spaces adjacent to the grass and trees that border the back side of their complex.

Darla spots an empty space almost directly across from the center of her building, where the stairs are. She struggles her Hyundai over the hump of snow left by the plow into the space. The space isn't plowed, and it feels like she's parking in a foot of snow. She knows her vehicle will be where it is until either the snow melts or is shoveled away. She imagines being snowed in for longer than the weekend, and what that would mean. If she's not going to work she will be with Vincent. That means most likely for as long as she's not working, she will be nude. Though she's nice and toasty warm in her Santa Fe that thought generates a thrill of excitement around her heart that makes her shiver.

She sits behind the wheel, parked in deep snow with her vehicle running. Right now she is wearing only Vincent's football jersey. Her jeans, panties, socks, and down-filled overcoat are on the front passenger seat with her shoulder bag. Her cowboy boots are on the front passenger floor. Being at home--well, at least in her parking lot--the trepidation she'd felt mixed with her excitement while on the Beltway wearing nothing or next to nothing while driving in this snowstorm has faded, leaving her with just her sexual excitement.

The snow is coming down at its fiercest yet. She's turned off her vehicle's wipers and already her windshield is covered. In her rearview mirror and through the skin of snow on the back window she can just make out lights in the windows of the apartment units on the first floor of her building. It's going on 8:00pm. She figures most of their neighbors have had their dinner and are settled in, probably watching television, Odds are, when she leaves her car and makes her way across the parking lot driving lane to their apartment building no one will see her. So, she has a decision to make.

No, it's not her decision to make.

She calls Vincent.

==========

"I'm here," Darla says. "I had to park on the other side of the lot."

Vincent steps out onto his balcony again. Thanks to the roof overhang the storm has only dropped snow onto the edge of his balcony to about a foot in. Most of the balcony's wood plank floor is clear.

Before the weather turned cold he enjoyed Darla out here, on more than one occasion. The first time she went down on him from her knees while he recorded her. That was on a quiet Sunday morning. Other times, at night, he bent her over his balcony's guard rail and got her from behind. She seemed to have better orgasms when he'd fucked her ass, and that's cool because Darla has a lovely ass. Before he was involved with Darla he used to prefer missionary--something about the intimacy of looking at a woman's face or into their eyes--but Darla has made him a convert to digging doggy style as much. She provides such a lovely view.

Vincent steps to the edge of the snow on the balcony and looks across the parking lot. Darla's Hyundai is running. Through the falling snow he sees her glowing red taillights. Thanks to the snowplow the driving lane is only blanketed by snow, not buried under it. It looks like her SUV sits in deeper snow.

"Be careful coming up," he says.

"How do you want me to come up?" Darla says.

"How do you mean?"

"I'm wearing your football jersey right now."

"That's all?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Vincent notices that his physical want for Darla spreads from his manhood up to the pit of his stomach and is now a dull ache there. Knowing that she drove home from work naked part of the way and seeing the evidence of it in the pictures she sent him has given him the precursor to blue balls.