Elevator

I am a rather large man. Alright, to be accurate I'm over six foot tall and around two fifty pounds in weight. That weight is muscle, not fat. I work in the construction industry and you won't find any weaklings there. Being a glutton for punishment I also work out at the local gym, mainly on the punching bags as I also box for a hobby. Amongst other things I'm also as black as the ace of spades, being of African descent. (Not recently from Africa, but several generations ago my ancestors migrated here -- voluntarily.)

So there I was, big, black, tired, dirty, and smelly. These last three attributes were just a temporary thing, me currently arriving home from a hard day's work. A decent shower as soon as I got home was going to remove the dirty and smelly and a strong cup of coffee would probably do wonders for the tired.

I live halfway up a high-rise in quite a nice unit. A good construction worker who's willing to put the hours in can make a nice packet, and that described me to a T. I sure wasn't hurting for the odd dollar. I'd just parked and was heading towards the elevators. There was one already stopped at the garage level and it could only go in one direction -- up.

The doors had started to close so I made haste and managed to slip through the doors before they closed, leaving them to bang closed behind me.

Does being big, black, and smelly, make me a potential sex offender? Not in my opinion. There was already someone else in the elevator, a sweet little white mouse of a girl. She was blonde, quite curvy, and would have to stand on her toes to reach five and a half feet, and I wouldn't guarantee that she'd make it even then. It seemed she was also of a nervous disposition.

When I suddenly jumped into the elevator she took one look at me (or possibly one sniff), went white (whiter than white, seeing she was already white), screamed, and jumped to the far corner of the elevator, staring at me. Not wanting to be outdone I promptly screamed and jumped to the opposite corner, plastering myself against the wall.

She relaxed a little, just a little, got some colour back in her face, and gave me a filthy look. Not to be outdone I also let myself relax a little and returned the filthy look. (I stayed black, though. It's a hard colour to change.) It turned out that my filthy look was better than hers as she went pale again and cringed back into her corner. As did I.

"Do you mind?" she snarled at me.

I cringed away from her. "What?" I asked. "What am I doing?"

"You're trying to make me look like an idiot," she retorted.

"Not really," I said thoughtfully. "I think you were doing that quite successfully all by yourself."

The elevator stopped in the foyer but she didn't take the chance to vacate it. I suspect that she was too embarrassed to. No-one else got on and moments later we were ascending.

"I wasn't acting like an idiot. It is quite reasonable for me to be a little worried when a man suddenly jumps onto the elevator the way you did. It was a normal reaction for me to scream when you startled me."

"Uh-huh. Same here," I said.

"What?"

"You startled me," I pointed out. "I didn't want anyone to think I was molesting you so I just naturally made sure there was as much space as possible between us."

She glared at me. "I never thought for one moment that you might molest me," she snapped.

I just smirked at her in a way that probably really infuriated her. I was about to make another snarky comment when the lights went out, the elevator stopped, sank a short distance, and then remained still. Little emergency lights came on.

I reached for the emergency phone and called the foyer. Whoever was on duty down there promptly answered and let me know that the problem wasn't with the elevator but with the power supply. We'd been hit by a blackout.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the building have an emergency generator that is supposed to kick in if we have a power failure?"

"We do, sir," I was assured, "but today it's undergoing a major service. They won't be able to finish putting it back together until they get some power. Terribly sorry, but there's not much I can do."

"Not your fault," I said with a sigh. "It's on a par with everything else that's going wrong."

By chance I was looking at the little white mouse when I made that comment and she bridled immediately.

"It's not my fault that we have no power," she pointed out. "Look at it from my point of view. I'm locked in a tiny box with a monster who might be a sex maniac for all I know."

"Women," I snarled. "You all have tickets on yourselves. What makes you think that I'd even be attracted to you? I mean, look at you. A midget masquerading as a person."

"I'm not that small and I know men. They always think with their dicks and they can't keep them in their pants."

I submit that it was the dirty, smelly, tired part of me that caused me to do what I did next. Without moving from where I was leaning against the wall I calmly unzipped and hauled my cock and testicles out. Even in the dim lighting I could see she was blushing and deliberately looking elsewhere.

"You -- you -- put it away."

"I'm doing this for your benefit," I derided. "I mean, even you must know that while it's in this condition I'm not likely to jump you. You can consider it an early warning system. If it suddenly stands up and waves at you you'll know to take care."

"What do you mean, even me?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"Oh, you know. The perpetual virgin who doesn't know what happens."

"Who said I was a virgin. I just reserve the right to be careful when I'm with a strange man. Will you please out it away?"

"Being careful is one thing. Being insulting is something else and you were being insulting. Sex maniac indeed."

"I didn't say you were a sex maniac. I simply said you could be one."

"You're not helping your case. Lucky the early warning system is out."

She was seething and trying to not let it show.

"I'm sorry," she said and it sounded as though she was chewing on her tongue to stop saying what she wanted to say. "Will you please tidy up your clothing?"

"No. If it upsets you, though, I won't stop you tucking it away and zipping me back up."

I had to give her full marks for gumption.

"Fine," she snapped. "I will."

She marched over to me and grabbed hold of my cock. There was nothing tentative about the way she took hold of it. She just reached and her hand closed around me very firmly.

I suspect that that was where she made her mistake. If she'd just taken hold of me tentatively and nervously, using two fingers to do the dirty deed, I probably wouldn't have reacted. However, when a young lady's hand closes firmly around my cock I couldn't help but react. She went from picking up a garter snake to wrestling with an anaconda.

If she'd had the sense to scream and let go, taking sanctuary as far from me as she could get, I'd probably have laughed hysterically and tucked myself away. She didn't do that. She compounded the problem by grabbing me with her other hand, so I now had two hands holding me, with my cock swelling rapidly to show its appreciation for the attention.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she yelled at me.

"Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who grabbed me and started stroking me. What did you expect to happen when you did that?"

"I wasn't stroking you," she protested. "I was just tucking it back in your trousers. You'll have to do it. I don't think it'll fit now."

"Uh-huh. So why are your hands exploring?" I asked.

"They're not. Oh god, they are. This is your fault. You deliberately did this to embarrass me."

By an effort of will she stopped stroking me (pity) but also continued to hold me, which was a plus.

"I don't see why you insist on blaming me. You're an adult. Surely you know the effect of touching the other sex's genitals. Feel for yourself."

I wasn't referring to the way she was feeling my erection. I was referring to the fact that I pushed my hand up under her dress and slipped it under her panties and started to rub her mound.

"Argh," she squawked. "You can't touch me like that."

"Why not? You started touching me first,"

"I did no such thing. Argh. What are you doing?"

"Beg to differ," I said, "and what does it feel like I'm doing? It's just a finger."

The trouble where she was concerned was that my finger had slipped between her lips and was stroking her internally. She was facing a little bit of a dilemma, I guess. To push my hand away she'd have to let go my erection and I think she was convincing herself she had to hang onto it to prevent it attacking. To ease her mind I withdrew my finger and used it to hoick her panties to the side, leaving her vulva completely uncovered.

I shifted my hands to her bottom and lifted. She was light as a feather, although somewhat louder.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Why do people ask such dumb questions? Wasn't it obvious what I was doing?

"Instead of asking inane questions why don't you move your little plaything to a position where it'll do the most good when I let you down again?" I suggested.

"Are you insane? I'm not going to do any such thing. I'm not agreeing to have sex with you. I was right. You are a sex maniac."

Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't but the way I was lifting her meant her vulva was now rubbing against her knuckles. She said a rude word, finally releasing my erection, whereupon it promptly leaned forward, pressing against her. A few more inches and it slipped between her legs. At that point I stopped lifting and lowered her, just a little.

The head of my cock was now pressing lightly against her vulva. I didn't try to manoeuvre around and enter her -- I just let it rest against her. Or maybe let her rest against it is more accurate. If she'd stayed still all would have been fine. Possibly.

Did she stay still? No way. She was twisting and turning and swearing and twisting some more. The swearing wasn't accomplishing anything but I had to admit that the twisting and turning was resulting in her putting a fine polish on my knob and I wasn't objecting to that at all. Eventually she twisted too far the wrong way which resulted in my nice damp knob pressing firmly against the sweet spot where her passage began. Her lips parted in a most obliging manner and the head slipped between them and into her.

"Oh dear," I murmured sympathetically. "Now look what you've done."

She was, finally, staying still, too scared to move a muscle, apart from her mouth.

"What I've done?" she exploded. "Well, I like that. It was you. You did that deliberately."

"Gratified that I am to hear that you like it I have to humbly confess that it wasn't my fault. I was trying to hold you off. You kept wriggling around until you were in the right position and voila, instant access."

"I did no such thing," came the raging protest, "and stop trying to do more."

I was doing no such thing. All I did was relax the grip I had on her bottom, letting her settle down a bit. I pointed that out to her but she didn't seem to care.

"Fuck you," she snapped. "You're doing this deliberately."

I maintained a dignified silence and she began to twist about some more. A very pleasant sensation as far as I was concerned but from the noises she was making rather an infuriating one from her point of view. Slowly but surely she impaled herself, muttering and complaining the entire time.

"I hope you're satisfied," she snapped when she had finally settled fully onto me. "Something that big has probably done me a serious injury and it's all your fault."

"Why would I be satisfied when you've only just started?" I asked. "Also, it seems to me that you've managed to accommodate me quite nicely. Seeing that you're insisting that we do this why don't we get started properly?"

She was still claiming that she wasn't insisting on any such thing while I turned around and wedged her against the wall. Nicely in position I pulled back and returned right smartly, hearing her give a startled gasp. From that start I settled down to a nice rhythm, not too fast and not too slow. At the beginning she moved with me but I could sense a certain reluctance, with her going through the motions more than actively participating.

After a couple of minutes her participation took on a more pronounced air, her legs wrapping themselves around my waist as we moved. Now she was giving eager little gasps each time I thrust into her, fully aroused and wanting more.

More is what I wanted, as well, and I was quite happy to give it to her. After a while I was pumping into her with a high degree of energetic enthusiasm and she was reacting in the same manner. It turned out that I didn't even need to guess when she was ready to climax as she started demanding that I finish things, NOW.

I cut loose and she climaxed, oddly enough silently, quite at odds with all the noise she'd been making to that point. Afterwards she straightened up her clothes a little and I tucked me equipment away.

"Pleasant as this has been," I said, "I really want to get home."

I turned to the elevator doors and gave them a big heave, forcing them apart. The matching door on the floor we were on opened at the same time.

"What?" she said, sounding a little shocked.

"When the elevator stopped didn't you feel it settle down a little?" I asked her. "Any time there's a power outage modern elevators sink to the nearest floor and lock in place there. Then all you have to do is pull the door open and go on your way. After you."

She stepped out of the elevator, looking confused and annoyed.

"You could have done that as soon as the elevator stopped, couldn't you?" she accused me.

"Certainly, but I thought it only fair to let them sort out their power problems so I didn't have to walk up the stairs. I'm tired of waiting so it's up the stairs I go. Ah, I assume that you'll be climbing the stairs as well?"

I held open the door to the stair well and she marched past, head held high. She started stomping up the stair and I followed her, enjoying the view. (Did I mention that she had on a very short skirt?)

"May I suggest that you walk more calmly so you don't exhaust yourself before you reach your floor? How high are you going?"

"Fourteenth," she snapped.

"Lucky you," I grumbled. "Only three more floors. I've got half a dozen or so."

"My heart bleeds for you," she snapped. "With any luck the extra floors will give you a heart attack."

"What did I do?" I asked, all innocence.

"In the elevator," she snapped. "If you'd opened the doors straight away it'd never have happened."

"Possibly not, but that doesn't mean something else might not have happened."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

She was really asking for it. I simply reached up, hands going under her skirt and latching onto her panties, which came down quite easily. She made a yelping sound and seemed to pitch forward, her panties around her ankles stopping her climbing the stairs properly. She effectively finished up sprawled up the stairs, bum up, with me right behind her.

She spun her head to look at me, going, "What, what, what?" Then she saw my trousers were going down and my erection standing up and she hastily shook her head.

"You can't," she said. "You just did it."

I smiled at her and winked. As far as I was concerned my erection gave the lie to that statement.

"One thing I think I should mention. When we get under way you might like to try and keep quiet. Sounds echo in stairwells and I'm sure you don't want someone coming to see what's going on."

I moved forward and slipped in smoothly, with her being wet, warm, and welcoming. (For a given meaning of welcoming, anyway.)

"I don't believe this," she gasped as I started moving. "I was right in the first place. You are a sex maniac."

I found out that the position we were in suited me a lot better than being in the elevator. I had to be reasonable careful in the elevator as I didn't really want to set it to swaying about and being bounced off its brakes. That wouldn't happen on a set of concrete stairs. On top of that the little episode in the elevator meant she was all primed and ready.

Considering the above I had no hesitation in driving in hard and hot, my groin slapping firmly against her bottom. She gave a startled yelp, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, and then started retaliating, lifting her bottom and pushing firmly back to meet me.

I banged her hard, showing no mercy, not that she wanted any from what I could gather. She still had a hand clapped over her mouth but this didn't completely muffle her excited cries. I just ploughed ahead at full bore, carrying her along with me.

I had a substantial advantage over her this time. Our earlier fun and games meant it was going to take me a little while to reach a rallying point and letting loose. She on the other hand, was overly sensitive and waiting, heading for an orgasm in double quick time.

I think she was quite shocked when she climaxed and relaxed, thinking that was it, only to find that I was still going strong. A few very vulgar expressions escaped her, and then she was bucking against me again.

By the time I was ready to finish she was heading towards her third orgasm and it was a simple matter to push her over the edge.

It seemed to me that when we resumed climbing the stairs she was climbing on distinctly wobbly legs. She was also making pointed comments about me behaviour, morals, ethics, etcetera, implying that everything was my fault. She ignored little details that clearly indicated that she was at fault the entire time, saying I was just twisting things. I mean, she grabbed a hold of my cock in the elevator with both hands. How does that make things my fault?

I sighed and saw her safely to her floor, standing at the door to the stairs to make sure she got home without any problems. I thought it only wise. One never knew what might happen in a blackout.