The loud buzz of the semi-tipsy conversations and the bland music was dull, lulling me into crippling boredom because of the lack of any edge to keep my attention. It was the party of a friend of a friend of a friend, someone I met and lost through the transition of chain friendships. The sad excuse for a party was probably the reason.
My date, a guy friend who wanted to be a little more than a friend but less than a boyfriend, had evaporated from my side. He reformed in a circle of other fickle men by the open bar to talk about cars and sports and whatever men talked about after they'd abandoned their dates to pastures unknown with drinks sweating in their hands. I had found my own little corner with my said drink, and I let my eyes wander over face after face after face until they all became a blank canvas of multi-shaded flesh textured with make-up and stubble. A few moments passed until my eyes rested on a face that caught my interest. The blue eyes that looked back at me shared the glimmer of interest that I knew were in my own brown ones.
He took a sip of his own sweating drink then gave me a small smile. And invitation? I raised my own drink in a salute and "hello." His smile widened and I gave a sigh of triumphant satisfaction as I watched him delicately detach himself from his female companion and make his way over to me. As he emerged from the crowd, I gave him a bold up-and-down, my hungry eyes started with his sexily tousled dirty blonde hair, five o'clock shadow, and the pale golden column of his throat, down to the crisp black button-down shirt, untucked, with the collar opened, down to the slightly scuffed black jeans that molded to the firmness of his thighs, and neatly polished shoes. Oh yes, very nice.
He filled up my little corner with his presence and we exchanged the simple pleasantries and names and who we were with, though my own reply about my date held a little bit more malice than I thought would sneak out. He smiled, amused and glanced over his own shoulder at his own date that didn't seem to miss his presence.
"A little bit loud in here, isn't it?" I said, leaning in close.
"It is, isn't it?" he said. "There's a balcony through one of the bedrooms. It has a nice view."
I didn't need any more convincing and soon we were both making a bee-line through the crowd, him leading with me trotting happily at his heels. We went through one of the bedrooms and when he pushed open the sliding door that led outside, the cool night air washed over us, thick and heavy with the scents and sounds of the city below. I took a deep breath, letting it shiver through me as he slid the door shut behind him.
The balcony was small, about three by seven feet and the railing was clean white, topped with a cool length of stainless steel tubing. He came up beside me, gently taking my drink from me and setting it beside his on the ground. I gave him a curious look and he answered me by turning me around and pressing me against the railing. I licked my lips nervously as he molding his body against my back, hips lightly grinding against my ass. The cold metal soon warmed from the heat of my body that burned through my little black dress and when I felt his hand drift over the sides of my waist, down along the curve of my hips and thighs, I gave a small moan. His fingers dug lightly into my flesh, crawling lower and I felt the hem of my skirt lift to bare more and more leg. I whimpered when I felt skin touch skin and my hips pushed back against the growing hard length of his cock.
"Shhhh," he whispered against that bare skin just below my ear. With a quick maneuver, he had my hands pinned behind me and filled with his cloth-covered cock, while his other hand rose to play over my breasts. With a tug here and a tug there, he had the neckline of my dress tucked under my breasts, now bare to anyone who happened to glance up at the fourth floor of the building.
I was breathing hard now, that hot liquid heat building between my thighs. I was caught between shame, embarrassment, and intoxicating excitement. It was almost as if I wanted someone to see.
His fingers were cruel and loving, toying with my nipples until they ached in pleasurable pain, making my body greedy for more. My hands weren't idle though, they were exploring the length of his cock, molding the material to the shape, finding where the cock started right above the sensitive scrotum, then up the slightly curved length to find the mushroom-shaped head. My ministrations were having there effect. He handled my breasts more aggressively, sending my mind soaring with pleasure, and his lips had found the nape of my neck, teeth nipping lightly.
I barely noticed that my hands were free until I felt him slip his hand under the hem of my dress. My legs nearly gave out from under me when his fingers ran along my slit through the material of my soaked panties. He toyed with my clit, pushing me closer and closer to orgasm. I was hovering there, in the space before climax, when he slowed his teasing, drawing back. I gave an angry growl and found my wrists secured in your hand again. Frustrated, I tried to seduce him with dirty talk, telling you how good my pussy would feel around your cock, how good it would feel when I came on you and for you when you came in me.
He toyed with me, manipulating my body like a puppeteer. I dangled precariously over the brink of delirium by a single stand of sanity. I forgot about the people in the streets that could hear and see me, I forgot about the dangerous element of getting caught. Everything melted away save for his magic fingers.
And then, as fast as it had started, it stopped. He withdrew the two fingers he had in me, and with his clean hand, he turned me to face him, and fixed my dress until it was presentable. Then he coated my lips with my own juices, and gave me a chaste kiss. I was too shocked to move or say anything. I just stood there, flushed, breathless, surprised, disappointed, and I watched him wipe his hands clean with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.
"I'll be watching you," he said, then left me standing alone, weak-kneed and aching.
It took me a couple of minutes to steady my breath. I undid my pony tail and shook my hair out, and with a shivering breath, I went back to the party. I couldn't help but look for him the moment I went in. He was next to his date, his arm casually around her waist, and the hand that had just been between my thighs was gently kneading her hip. My own date was still in conversation, still not noticing my absence. I glared at my date and glared at his date and went off to drink and stand in another corner, when I spotted another stand-alone.
He wasn't too bad-looking. Dressed in a blue shirt and pressed black slacks, his hair cut short, he had that neatly-combed look to him. He was alone by the punch bowl, slowly nursing his drink, his other hand in his pocket as his eyes scanned the crowd. I smoothed my hands over my black dress and wandered over.
To get his attention, I made a comment about the party, "accidentally" brushing my breast against his arm as I reached for an empty cup as I flashed him a flirty smile. We traded names, his was Mark, and made small talk. It seemed that the Night of Missing Dates had claimed another as his had vanished into a throng of laughing chattering females, never to be seen again. I laughed and shared my own date's MIA status with him and he joined in on my amusement as he took a deep swallow of his drink.
He was getting a little flushed and I innocently mentioned that there was a refreshing breeze on the balcony through one of the bedrooms. He liked the idea. With our fingers twined, I led Mark through the party. As my eyes drifted over the crowds, our eyes met. His eyes widened in a look of half amusement half jealousy as his eyes settled on Mark. I gave him a smile. Paybacks a bitch.
Back out on the balcony, the air felt cooler on my heated skin, but I didn't care. My new companion smiled at me as he leaned against the balcony railing, sipping his drink. I went and stood next to him, the lines of our bodies touching, and we resumed our mindless little conversation about friends and work. When he said something funny, I laughed, touching the bare skin of his lower arm, letting my nails scrape very lightly over his flesh. When I smoothed my fingers over his arm, I felt the muscles tighten and his breath hitched.
.... There is more of this story ...