Penthouse A - An Evening Out Pt. 01

"I like the toy," I say. "It's fun and it's quite a turn on. How did you think of that?"

"Well, I thought we were ready for a bit of a technological upgrade," you answer, wryly.

I have been playing with the app throughout our conversation, being careful to vary the speed and not to get too loud. You've been alternating between having a drink together and biting your lip in controlled pleasure.

"I'm sure you know this, but you can't come in this bar," I say.

"I knooooow!" you whine back quietly. "But I want to! I really want to."

"Patience is a virtue," I admonish.

"Virtue is the LAST thing I'm thinking about," you retort.

"You do have a way with words," I reply, and instantly you smile.

"I like words," you answer. "I like them a lot."

"Because....?"

"Because they can take you into someone else's head, or you can let someone into yours. Words are the ultimate nakedness. They let your mind be seen. Words make thoughts real."

"And what a mind you have," I answer.

We're sitting in the hotel bar as happy hour winds down and you're finishing the last of your glass of wine. The room is cool and quiet, and the service has been excellent. Attentive, but not intrusive, and that has allowed us to talk uninterrupted.

"Why did you decide to invite me here today? You have a pool in your own building, and we could have just had dinner and returned home afterwards. But you reserved a room and asked me to bring clothes for dinner and to stay over. Is this just for variety? Another way to mix it up?"

"Well, it's always good to have some variety. I thought you might enjoy something new," I reply.

"And the 'something new' is ...?"

I interrupt our conversation by reaching for the phone and turning off the toy's app.

"All your questions will be answered in due time," I say as I gesture to the bartender for the check. "Let's go upstairs and dress for dinner, shall we?" And with that, we leave the bar for the elevator.

As we enter the elevator, a couple follows us in. I pushed the button for the tenth floor, and, looking at the couple, ask, "Which floor?" The woman answers, "We're on the ninth." During the ride, there is a tension in the air, as if something isn't being said, and, at the sound of the automated voice announcing the ninth floor, the couple steps out of the elevator. As they leave, I say, "Enjoy your evening," and she answers back, "I'm sure we will. You too."

The elevator ascends one more floor and the door opens to the hallway leading to our room. It's located on a corner, so that the walls create an interior L shape. We have a terrace with wide glasses doors. From the terrace, we can look out at rest of the hotel including the windows belonging to the walls creating the L shape in the building's design.

As I open the curtains, I look out and mumble to myself, "It's going to be a lovely night."

"What's that?" you ask. "Nothing important," I answer. "Our dinner reservation is at 8. I think I'd like an aperitif first."

"Do you want something from the mini-bar, or do you need to call for room service," you ask.

"Neither one."

You raise your eyebrows. "Oh! What did you have in mind?" You can't conceal the hint of a smile.

"First, I want to watch you undress."

"Well, only if you're going to match me, point for point," you answer.

"You're so egalitarian," I comment.

"Fair is fair," you reply.

We look at each other, locking eyes, and then, as I begin to unbutton my shirt, I watch your fingers do the same with your blouse. As I continue unbuttoning, my chest is revealed, just as your blouse reveals your bra.

"It's already unequal," you say. "Not the same number of garments between us."

"I can remedy that," I answer, and I walk over to you, gently turn you around and undo the clasp on your bra. The straps fall off your shoulders and, in a moment, your breasts are exposed while the bra is in your hands.

"We're even again," I say.

Now it is you leading the dance, unbuttoning your stylish belt, and I imitate you, removing my own. In short order each item falls way, and just moments later, we are standing in front of each other quite naked.

That is when you notice the open curtain looking out at the terrace and beyond. You look at me quizzically.

"Leave the curtains open," I say, firmly, and you quietly nod.

"Stay there for a moment. I'll be right back" I walk toward the bathroom, and I return with a towel, placing it on the cushioned swivel chair.

"Sit down, please," I say, but you can tell that the "please" is nothing but civility. There is no option offered in my voice.

Backing up into the swivel chair, you sit down onto the towel.

"Show me," I say, and you understand what I want, as you open yourself to my eyes.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," I murmur under my breath. Then, to you I say, "Take out the toy. You're only allowed one finger for your pleasure."

Your left hand moves downward and toward your center, and I watch you retrieve the toy and place it on the end table. Bringing your hand back now, I watch your index finger begin to rotate slowly. You are in no hurry, and that pleases me. There is plenty of time to savor this.

In the silence of the room, I can hear my heart beating as a pulse in my ears. You keep looking at me, sometimes connecting to my eyes, and at other times, letting your gaze wander downward, across my body. Your finger continues the small circles, and you seem at ease. You know I am enjoying this.

I am hard already, and I see you look at me with your mouth ever-so-slightly open.

"I have no intention of coming like this," you say, almost defiantly.

"Honestly, your intentions are only part of a much larger plan. You may not come right now," I answer. "You will, but not yet.

"This finger isn't enough.... I need ... you."

"It's time for that aperitif," answer, and I move toward your chair. Placing my hands on the arms of the swivel chair I reach down and kiss your lips. A long, slow kiss. You meet me with the same hunger I have, and we explore each other through our mouths and tongues. The passion, the need, is obvious, and I now feel impatient.

"I need to kiss the rest of you," I say, and I gradually lower myself down in front of you pulling your hips forward. I take your hand away from your body, and my mouth replaces it, finding your warmth and your wetness. You open your legs wider, giving me space to bring you more pleasure, and I swirl the tip of my tongue around your clit as lightly as I can. Like a long kiss, I hold your folds in my lips and let my tongue focus on your clit. Time passes and it grows against my tongue. You are warmer now, and I can taste you more intensely. I lay my tongue flat against your little bump. I feel you move into me, pushing yourself with force, pleasuring yourself and the little nub that had formerly been pleasured by your finger.

"Talk to me," I say as I return my mouth to your pussy.

The silence is broken now by your voice. It is husky now, and soft.

"Yes...there, right there.... Give me your tongue, ...Fuck! I like that. I like that... it ... feels ... so ... good."

Between sentences you stop to enjoy the sensations and to catch your breath.

"I love your fucking mouth," you continue, rambling as you go. "I love your fucking tongue. You know my body...you understand it. God, I love this."

Again, you become quiet, but your hips have begun to slowly rotate, and I know you're on your way.

"Where did you fucking learn to eat pussy like that?" you mumble, and I smile, even as I as continue to pleasure you.

"Whoever she was, Fucking God Bless Her."

I push my tongue hard into you to bring you back to the moment.

"Oh, yeah. Do that, Do that... Do fucking thaaaaat."

Your hips buck forward, and you push so hard into me. I hold my tongue against you as your legs tremble. Your breath stops for a moment, and then there is a guttural sound. You're pushing your clit into my flattened tongue and grinding it. You push and rub on my tongue, keeping the pressure hard against me, and then the motion stops at the hardest push. I know that you are letting yourself crest, and I can feel you convulsing in asymmetrical rhythms. Now your breaths are fast and hard and then, they are random in duration until they slowly diminishing in strength. Over the next half minute, they slow down even further, and the time between the weakening convulsions lengthens until everything finally stops. I can hear your quiet breaths getting finer and finer. When you have finished with your last twitch, the silence is deafening.

"Jesus!" you whisper.

"Nope. Try again. That's not my name," I answer, and I hear an almost silent chuckle from you. Still holding my tongue against you, I let my eyes look upward toward your face.

You are smiling, and that is an extraordinary feeling for me.

"But YOU didn't come yet," you say.

"Oh, my dear. There's a time and place for everything. The night is very young. Let's shower and get ready for dinner; shall we?"

At 8 pm we enter the restaurant, and are taken to our table, next to a window facing the bay. The lights reflect hypnotically on the water's surface, undulating in endless shapes and constantly changing rhythms. I'm caught in the water's reflections when your voice interrupts my reverie.

"Isn't that they couple we met in the elevator?" you ask, gesturing toward the table across the restaurant.

"Why, yes, I believe it is," I answer. "I suppose we're neighbors for the night, with them being a floor below us."

"Hmm," you answer. "I suppose so."

The woman is dressed in a basic black ensemble with a dark sheer blouse under her jacket. Her long legs are clothed in black sheer stockings and her black stilettos finish off the effect to perfection. As for her partner, he wears a tailored dark blue sport jacket, grey denims, and dark brown leather laced shoes. His look is a perfect balance between being dressed up and yet appearing casual. They seem happy together, and sometimes, one of them places their hand across the table in the hand of their partner. Their demeanor isn't conveying young love, but something solid and trusting.

"Lovely couple," I say. "Maybe they're also here to ... change up the routine a bit."

"Well, let's hope so," you answer. "He's quite handsome, and she could be quite an aperitif herself!"

Smiling, I appreciate your memory for details. It's something I truly enjoy about you -- the way you remember words and phrases from our conversations. It's true what you said earlier. Words do matter, and your use of aperitif is one more example of your ear for detail and memory for what's been said.

"Yes, let's hope so," I say in agreement. "They seemed like they were looking forward to their evening when we met them."

As the evening's dinner progresses from appetizer to main course, a shared dessert, and an after-dinner liquor, we are just a bit behind the pace of the other couple's meal. Just before we finish our final drink, they, having already finished, gesture to the waiter for the bill and disappear.

"Well, this was lovely," you say, picking up your napkin from your lap and placing it back on the table.

"Ready for bed?" I ask.

"I'm ready for a lot more," you answer with a smile. "Bed or otherwise."

"Check please," I say immediately toward the server, and in less than two minutes we are walking, holding hands, to the elevator.

As we open the door to our room, you are surprised to see numerous votive candles lit and placed around the living area, as well as a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

"How did all this get in here?" you ask.

"When you stepped into the shower to get ready for dinner, I called room service and asked them to have these sent up during our time in the restaurant, so I knew everything would be waiting when we got back. I gave them room access, so they didn't have to ask for a key."

Inside the room, the curtain facing the terrace, is still open. Now that it is evening, the building is lit up, and some of the rooms have lights on. The L shape allows those windows to be in our view.

We pour a glass of champagne and step out on terrace, and that is when you look at the window on the floor below us.

The curtain is ajar, and you see two lovers embracing.

"Well, here's to them, whoever they are!" you say, gesturing in the direction of their window.

"Don't you recognize them?" I ask.

You look more closely and see that the woman is still in her black dress, and the man is lightly drawing his finger across the skin of her arm.

"Oh my God. That's the couple!"

"Yes, it is."

"Listen, it's hot to watch, but they have no idea that I'm seeing them. We should go back inside."

At this moment, the man stands up, and walks toward the window. Rather than closing the curtain, he opens it completely.

You don't move, riveted to the unfolding scene.

What follows is a replay of our own afternoon's little playtime. Each lover watching the other undress, matching every item until they are each completely nude.

Just as we had, she sits in the room's padded chair, opened her legs and, with one finger, pleasures herself.

He stands in front of her stroking himself, and you stare at him.

"Let's go inside," I say.

I take you by the hand and lead you off the terrace. With our candles the light in our room is quite subdued. Closing the sliding glass doors, but still leaving the curtains open, I kiss you, standing against the glass. Our bodies are warming, and I push myself against you, which only enhances my hardness. The light from the votive candles is dancing on your skin and throwing shadows of our bodies against the walls of the room.

Without asking, I undress you quickly, and you help me as we furiously remove every item of clothing.

We kiss again, deeply and our tongues play and say everything that words cannot. Naked in the candlelight, I back away and look at you.

You are ravishing.

"I need to take you. Here, right here," I say. And you respond by reaching down for me, stroking my hardness, readying me to enter you.

"Turn around," I say, and you face the glass. I use my feet to open your legs and I kiss your neck.

"What do you see?" I ask, from behind you.

"What?"

"Tell me what you see. You said you liked words. Let me hear your words," I answer as I stroke myself until there are beads of precum on my tip..

"I see a couple. A beautiful couple in love."

"Tell me about them. What are they doing?"

"He is kissing her, and touching her, his hand is on her breast, and he is pushing himself against her. She's kissing him back, and now her hand is reaching down. She's taking him into her hand."

"What is she taking into her hand?" I ask in your ear.

"His cock. She's taking his cock in her hand and she's stroking it."

"Do you like his cock?" I ask.

"My god, it's beautiful."

"What is beautiful about it?"

"It's perfect, and it's glistening in the light, and it's shaped like a Greek God. She's worshiping it, like it belongs to a deity.

By now, you are living inside your words. You're forgotten everything, that you're standing in front of the glass, naked with candles behind you. You're simply caught up in the scene in front of you, and my questions, and your answers.

"And what is he doing to her?" I ask, continuing your descriptions.

He's undressing her. She is in a black bra and panties, and stockings. He's taking off the panties...and now he's going going to go down on her. Holy fuck! He's tonguing the fuck out of her. God! this is crazy hot!"

At this point, I can feel that you are wet and ready, and I take each of your hands, extend your arms and brace your hands against the glass. Reaching down, I place the tip of my cock at the folds of your pussy.

"What do you want," I ask, knowing you can feel the tip of my cock at your opening.

"Fuck me," you say. "Fuck me like you hate me. Just take me now. I need you right now. Please God in heaven. Just fuck the living hell out of me!"

I'm throbbing at your words and hard as a rock. I press my body toward you and my cock enters inside. Your folds are warm and wet and you push back toward me, enveloping my hardness. You slide easily on my shaft, and we unconsciously measure out our thrusts. We find our rhythm right away.

As we're fucking, you continue to look at the window on the ninth floor. The couple has begun to fuck as well. He is behind her, and she is on her knees taking him from behind. With each thrust you can see his cock enter her, and then withdraw before it disappears into her again, hard as a sword.

"Do you like this?" I ask. "Do you like watching them?"

"It's kinky as fuck, but yes. Yes, I do. I fucking love this."

"What can you see?" I ask as I continue to stroke you.

"I can see his cock fucking her. I can see her face while he fucks her. She's in ecstasy. It's just so amazing to see this! They're enjoy it so much, and I'm enjoying THEM -- and you!"

While you're watching and describing the scene, I'm continuing to stroke your pussy in a steady rhythm and you buck back to me with each thrust. Sometimes we grunt as if we are simply animals in heat. But we are so much more. We have language and we know what we're seeing. We're sharing this scene together, using it to excite each other and to bring each other closer and closer to climax.

"Why do you think they left the curtain open?" I ask. "Do you remember that they opened the curtain more when we were on the terrace? They could have closed the window, but they didn't"

"You mean ... they want to be seen?"

"Yes. They want you to watch them. They like to be watched. They're fucking for themselves. But also, they're fucking for ... you."

"But, how can you possibly know that?"

"Because, my love, we're on a double date."

"We're on a WHAT?"

To be continued...