The Chair, Our Stage

The Chair, Our Stage

We are in a hotel... we are not supposed to be there but I know of a security door that is habitually unlocked by maintenance personnel. It takes us up safety exit stairs to a level that is having renovations. There is one room in particular that is left unfinished and it's been unlocked. Why lock something you've demolished inside? It has plaster all over the floor and wires are exposed. The curtains have been left up but they will be torn down and tossed out too. It will be a new room overlooking a busy highway entering the city.

It's a weekend and no one is working on that floor. The door to the room is unlocked. I usher you inside swiftly and you start back at the sight. The whole place looks dystopian and wrecked. It was your image of a room being remodeled. It wreaks of urban decay, although we're in an upscale portion of the city.

Workmen left a chair in the middle of the room. It's at the room's edge and pushed up to the window. I take your hand, leading you to it.

With the morning sun on the window, we can see the cars passing below on the roadway that passes beneath the room into the downtown area, but they cannot see us. Reflection and tinted glass shield us and I make that quite clear to you. You feel reassured about what we are to do now, despite the fact we shouldn't be here in the first place.

In no time, I've ripped the crotch from your panties. We're in that overstuffed chair a half second later. I'm slouched low in the chair and you are riding cowgirl atop me... up and down and up and down on that cock.

You pull your blouse open and bare your breasts. My teeth meet bee-stung maraschino cherry nips... swollen with blood. You're all whimpers and whines from the chews and sucks, but you're all breathy in my ear not to stop. I grab your wrists and cross your arms behind your back... they are now pinned back there, held by one hand.

You struggle to test things, those wrists are just not coming free. It pleases you and that smile on your face tells me as much. You move up and down faster as we kiss.... our strokes intensify, we pick up the pace and the pressure on one another.

We're so completely hungry for one another. Faces pressed together, we dine on the kiss. Our tongues snake-dance on a soft intimate dancefloor inside mouths, exploring the inner recesses of that members-only intimate space beyond lips, the soft palate and cheeks; all needing to be ravaged in a passionate French snog.

My free hand finds your neck and squeezes... not an air choke, a blood choke. Within half a minute your eyes flutter, then there is the slack on my grip. The kiss intensifies for you, the blood loss fills you with a heady dreamlike excitement; you've lost all track of time and are juicing. Unbeknownst to you, you've drenched both my cock and the chair with your dribblings.

My hand squeezes again and you fuck down hard upon that cock. The shaft is what you want more than anything to rub yourself against and now you do so in a mad fury. I release your wrists and a hand of yours finds your clit.

You strum fiendishly while the blood is dammed back from your brain once again. Giddy and hypoxic, you wallow in euphoria. You bite my lip with a snarl that melts into a moan.

Your rectum feels the intrusion of my finger while my other hand holds back that blood at your throat; the tingling in your head now a swirling torrent of pleasure and altered senses. It's all coming together; cock shaft, clit rudely pawed, anus finger-buggered, it just needs a little something...

"BAAAAAAAH!" blares a horn from a truck passing below.

THEY CAN SEE US!

Normally you'd be horrified but there's nothing normal about this; you're exposed, shamelessly unclothed in a room where you don't belong, and now strangers throttle passed at 90kph into the downtown business district, only to glance up to see your sodden pussy juicing up and down upon my shaft. Your forbidden side LOVES this. I open my hand and release your blood; just as you release those water works!

You shake from head to toe in a climax. Your hot brine runs down my shaft in torrents; drenching my balls, asshole and the chair. You've soiled us both so completely and shamefully there's nothing to do but revel in the glorious splashings and trickles. It's my turn though. I retaliate with a roar; sending a hot geyser of ball batter up your insides until we are now a steaming swamp of sex broth.

As passing vehicles beep and blast us in an orchestra of car horn applause, we rise from the chair, and bow. We hurry into our clothes. We are gone; leaving nothing behind aside from the traffic passing below the window into the city tunnel just below the hotel, and that moisture trophy stain on the chair.

THE END