Literary Exhibitionist Erotica
"Bliss," a Dirty Martini Free Sex Story
Raindrops skated down the stained window, forming jagged pathways that she likened to the avenues within her mind. She huddled under the blanket, covering her mouth with the sateen edge and hoped that the sun would streak through the sky. Moments passed, and nothing. The gas heater jangled, confirming its passage into the afterlife. Rising, she briefly shivered, and stepped into her tattered sweatpants. The first day passed without drama. A month later, and she felt as though her life sat in freeze frame; the prospect of an eviction notice crowded her thoughts until her brain belched and a newcomer appeared at the window across the street.
Jules sighed, and pressed her cheek against the icy windowpane. She didn’t need nipple clamps. Brrr nipple chill, she thought, rolling her shoulders. The flotsam and jetsam of her life, and thoughts, sailed by. She couldn’t make it past an ordinary job as a personal assistant to a horse powered stockbroker. Her brief whirl as a store assistant in an upmarket boutique saw her tread on Manolo toes; New York gave her indigestion.
The man didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. He stood beneath a diaphanous white curtain that cloaked him like a Roman hedonist. Jules watched until he stuck his hand out to check the rainfall. Jules pressed her torso against the glass. His arms poked through the white divide. He offered her a brief glimpse of his torso. He had adequate muscular padding for her to squeeze, prod, and nibble.
Jules rummaged through her CD’s for Nina Simone. She twisted her mousy hair into a loose knot while her watcher flexed his fingers.
“You like my titty jig, don’t you sweet-lips?” She unbuttoned her pink grandpa top and shivered.
Nina Simone's seductive rhythm warmed her speakers and Jules's ears hummed. The frequency meshed with every fine hair on her body, transforming music notes to liquid silk that tickled her labia. Her jaw slackened, and her lips formed the perfect "Oh" of satiation - until her leaden breath condensed the window. Her finger circled the dampness. He rubbed his torso, starting at his pectorals and arriving at his happy trail. Their nascent ardor triumphed over their ten-foot gap. She ran her finger over her mist to smear the damp remnants over her tingling nipple. The world was hers – at least within her apartment. He stroked his prick; she squinted to see his shiny purple helmet. His curtain added veiled mystique. She’d journeyed through similar curiosities with Father Jonas at confession.
Her tongue lubricated her lips and she pulled down her sweats to unveil pink cotton panties. Her hands were possessed with ribald daring, and a blatant need to stoke his cock. She allowed him a glimpse of her mound, and then they simultaneously nodded. Her hand matched his, sliding under the warmed fabric to bathe in her tropics. Heat unraveled and shot through her spine like a comet. Its tail rattled the nexus of her womb.
“Bite my big apples,” she whispered. She drenched her fingers and soiled her mind with possibilities. Flesh against glass, her nipples flattened out for his pleasure.
Her mind ululated at the prospect of his cock. She unlatched the window, pushed out, and turned to display her ass; the light wet drizzle invigorated her ass cheeks.
“You want to give it to me? Give it…that’s better…”
He rolled his head from side to side, and gripped his cock. Tight and precise, his momentum lit Jules' wick, and his tongue…
It delicately licked an imaginary trail – to her clit, or any place she desired.
Her fingers twisted, to uncork the torrid bouquet between her damp thighs. He hoisted his body up. She plunged three fingers into her simmering pussy, eyes fixating on his robust cock and its nascent rigidity. He swiftly tugged, to slow at the base; she swallowed, envisioning every blue vein, unable to abate her urges.
“Put it in…I’d like it deep," she moaned.
The residual frequency of her cry blended with the falling rain that dotted her forearms. Her fingers splayed over the glass. She pulsed; a radiant bliss bomb sparked between her legs. Her fingers slapped against the glass, while her busy fingers tapped her clit. The slippery nub resonated with her DNA to produce a bright spark that zapped her spine. She trickled, and slathered her vulva. He stepped back and aimed for his window, his cock standing proudly erect, and his ripe glans begging attention. She saw constellations when he tightly squeezed his thick shaft. He aimed and exploded against his window.
“… Shit…” Jules’s voice became one with the glass. Her fingers wildly strummed her pulsing clit. She painted the closed portion of her window with her tongue, charting her joy, lust, and pleasure. Her tongue circled the glass. Her mind swallowed his hot milky load, and the rain continued to fall.