Making Love in Secret

It was late and everyone had gone home for the evening. The restaurant doors were closed. The staff had clocked out and disappeared, each one heading out to do their own thing. I was left alone to close out the books, shut off the lights and make my way upstairs to my apartment above the diner. With each step I told myself I would simply go upstairs, take a hot bath, enjoy a late night movie and fall asleep on the couch. My night would be easy, relaxing, and boring. There was nothing wrong with boring, was there?

When I got to my apartment door and I stepped inside, I closed it behind me, locked the deadbolts and kicked off my skid-resistant shoes. They sailed across the room, landing somewhere in the dark. I flicked on the light and the small studio apartment was immediately flooded with the soft globe of the 60 watt bulbs.

I headed to the bathroom, took care of business including the shower that my body so desperately craved. When I felt cleansed of the grease of the fryer and grime and sweat the comes with dealing with flattop grills and dirty dishes. I opened a can of chicken vegetable soup, poured it into a microwave bowl and warmed it up. Eventually I settled down on the couch exactly as I had planned. My movie played and for the first several minutes I was quite content. That contentment fled when the lights from the apartment across from mine came on.

My gaze drifted lazily toward the curtains and like clockwork they parted and Weston Sheets walked out onto his balcony. I felt my pulse race and my heart skip a beat as I watched the lights of the city and the ones coming from his rooms caste an ethereal glow around him. He wore a white dress shirt, partially unbuttoned, a pair of black trousers with a silver buckled belt. Dark shoes and I can only assume black socks. I tried to look away. I tried to force my attentions back to the movie. I tried desperately to not pick up my mini-binoculars and point them in the direction of Weston's apartment -- I failed miserably.

With the black binoculars pressed against my eyes and perfectly focused on Weston I watched him roll his shoulders and stretch his back. I was curious as to who would be with him tonight. Weston had not yet settled down, nor had he ever brought back the same woman twice to his apartment. The curtain moved and I watched a tall, trim brunette step onto the balcony.

Her dress sparkled and the light glimmered off the sequins and jewels that lay scattered throughout the fabric. She wore a row of diamonds on her neck and teardrop earrings swayed from her perfectly formed ear lobes. She was beautiful, but then again all of Weston's women were beautiful.

I watched as she walked over and placed her hand on his chest. He picked it up, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm before sliding his lips down to her wrist and leaving a long kiss upon her flesh. I could almost feel his lips touching me in the exact same spot, but I knew it wasn't real. I had never been to Weston's apartment, nor had he been to mine. I only knew of him because he came in every morning into the diner and had coffee before leaving for work downtown. He smelled wonderful, looked delicious, and had always shown me and the staff nothing but respect.

Now as he moved behind the woman I found myself aching to be her, or the next girl, or even sadly one of the discarded ones. He placed his hands on her hips and slowly walked her to the balcony edge. She gripped the metal and as she stood there, he began to kiss the back of her neck and press his body against hers.

I watched her push back and knew she was rubbing her ass against his crotch. I could almost feel his cock swelling and pushing against my ass. I reached down and rubbed my round cheeks and pushed against the crack of my rear. A long sigh of frustration and disappointment filled me as I took my hand away and rested it on my lap. I continued to stare out of the binoculars as Weston slowly began to lift the woman's dress exposing her long legs to the night air and the voyeurs like me.

I've watched Weston many times use this same tactic on women. He takes them to the balcony and slowly eases them out of their clothes. His mouth glides across their skin and I watch from my chair as his tongue dips into the crevices of their flesh. Tonight is no different.

Weston is on his knees and the woman has turned, pressed now into the corner of the balcony. I can see Weston licking her pussy and dipping his tongue between the slick folds of her sex. The scent of my arousal wafts of to me and I am sure hers is already surrounding him. My hand casually glides back and forth against my pussy and I try to mimic his tempo with my fingers as his tongue laps and teases the woman's mound.

I whimper and so does she. I can't hear her, but I see the parting of her lips and can almost feel her breath as she sighs in appreciation. Weston continues to sup on her. His hands hold her hips and he grinds his face into her folds. She bucks against him and throws her head back. I watch her bite down on her lower lip as Weston shoves his fingers into her pussy. My sex tightens as if he's inside me and he's fucking me. My hips move in sync with his thrusting and as the woman comes so do I.

I slide my palm away from my pussy, lick it and taste the juices of my sex. Weston rises from the floor and the woman drops to her knees. She pulls his pants down and holds his cock like a precious weapon. I ache to be there and take her place, to gaze up adoringly at his rod and caress it like a babe. Oh fuck, he's hard and the light above him caste a brilliant ray of light over his cock. The pre cum glistens and the woman kisses it.

The moan that spills from my throat is deep and full of lust. I watch as she trails the head of his cock across her lips. She is painting her mouth with his arousal. My lips part. My mouth waters. My chest burns as I watch her take his dick between her lips and begin the sensuous task of pleasing him.

The head of his cock pushes against the wet sides of her cheeks. I lick my lips, imagining him inside my mouth and imagine my tongue rolling around his rod, licking his pre cum, feeling the rush of blood as it dances through his swollen veins. I would please him and he would come for me. I would bask in the juices, bathe in them if he allowed, but none of this will happen. So I gaze longingly through the binoculars as the woman begins to deep throat my Weston.

He grabs her hair and pushes her down onto his full length. She doesn't balk, nor does she fight him. Why would she? He's perfection. She only encourages him by holding his ass with her hands and helping him to keep her locked in place. Her lips have formed a perfect seal around the base of his cock and I watch as her mouth and throat work to milk his cream from his shaft. She's amazing and I only wish to one day be as talented as her.

I can tell when Weston comes. His face contorts in a mask of frenzied emotions. His lips open and a sound erupts from his chest that bounces off the walls and skates down the alley. I know others have heard him and I am sure others have watched the beautiful display of perfection as it releases its seed into its willing victim.

She remains locked to him, until he gives her permission to ease away. Even then she does so reluctantly, much like I would. My pussy is shaking and pulsating. I reach down and finger myself as she slides off and begins to lick and bring him back to his fullest potential.

I wonder now what Weston will do. Sometimes he fucks the girl on the balcony, sometimes he takes her into his room and fucks her on the bed. I pray he keeps her where I can see. If he takes her inside then I won't be able to watch his cock slide into her tight hole. A gasp of pleasure slips from my lips as I watch him pull her dress off.

My pussy flexes and I begin to masturbate as he bends the woman over the balcony railing and begins to fuck her right there. Oh God! Oh God, yes! I am thankful to Him and to Weston. With each thrust he gives the woman, I too thrust. It is his cock inside me and it is my pussy he is claiming as his own. His hands are on my tits. He is twisting my nipples. He is biting my shoulders, pulling my hair, forcing his inches into my sweet heavenly home.

It is my come he is feeling cascading around his cock. It is my pussy he is filling up with seed. It is my name he is calling and it is his name that is falling from my lips. I am the woman he is easing out of, the woman he is kissing, and the woman he is lifting and carrying into his bed. And in the morning when I awake I will be the woman bringing him his coffee as he sits and reads the paper at his usual place in my diner.