The hotel room had large floor to ceiling windows, with thick heavy red curtains that blocked out all the light when closed. They looked to me like the perfect place to indulge my exhibitionist side by having sex against the windows, the only problem was the view looking down on one of the busiest paths in London.
We had arrived last night, past sunset, so the only view outside the window is the sparkling Thames river which reflects the lights from Westminster Bridge. Big Ben strikes the hour and I marvel at what a beautiful room with a view we have. I’m standing against the window as I feel Scott come up behind me, the dark, silent type, hands creeping the mini skirt I wore for him.
We don’t meet often, but when we do the meetings are hot. Steamy. He’s always teaching me something new about myself, helping me find and surpass my limits sexually. I feel his hands caress up my thigh, cup my buttocks. He pulls the skirt so that it straddles my waist, exposing my bare bottom. The lights are switched off in the room, so the only illumination we have is from the street lights outside. My back is slightly bent forwards, I’m sticking my bottom out automatically, willing him to do something. My legs are shoulder width apart, and my hands are pressed up against the window. My breath is shallow, the anticipation steaming up the glass in front of my face.
I can’t see him, but I can almost feel him smiling at me in the darkness. It’s a mind game. I know what he’s going to do. He knows I know what he’s going to do. I know he knows that I know, which means that he might now even do what I think he’s going to do. I just have to wait and see. His hand’s raised and makes contact with my left butt check before I even realise it, in fact, it’s the smacking noise that vibrates through the dark room that tells me he’s done it. That and the blooming sting I feel tingling through my body. He’s laughing and I realised I must have yelped out in shock, but I hadn’t even realised it.
I bend over more. I want more spanks, I’m asking for it with my body but he’s still playing the waiting game. It drives me crazy. I love not knowing when his hand will come down, or which cheek he decides to spank. I don’t know if it’ll be a slight tap or a hard, stinging bite. When he rubs my cheeks soothingly afterwards, I don’t know if it’s to calm me down, or to prepare for the next one. I’m standing on my tiptoes, stretching myself up to be closer to him. We have what feels to me like an eternity of time, but I’m not sure if I can take another minute.
My hands are feeling numb against the cold glass windows, but my body is on fire. The sweat from my palms makes it hard to get any grip against the smooth glass, and as my body bends over for better balance I take a look down for the first time. Being too distracted at the view of Big Ben across the river, I had forgotten that we were only a few floors above one of the busiest streets in London at christmas time. The Southbank. Next to the London Eye, there is a mob of people passing by beneath me.
“Oh my God. Scott. There are people. Right below us.” I breath out, a scared whisper almost. He chuckles, but in the darkness it sounds sinister. I try to stand up straight and turn around but he steps closer to me, pushing me up against the window. I gasp at the sudden body contact, and there’s a moment of panic my body is pressed closer, I feel trapped. “Stop it Scott! They’ll see us!” I beg quietly, unable to move, his leg pined between my legs.
“Then let’s give them something to see.” He whispers back, and pulls my bra and top up in one go. I let out an audible shriek as my bare breasts makes contact with the window, a frozen chill racing down my spine. My nipples are squished against the window and I pray that we’re too high up for anyone to bother looking up at. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed.
I feel his hands reach between my legs, cool fingers probe between my lips. I’m dripping wet and I know it. I feel his smile against my neck, and I can hear as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans. My eyes are now wide open, trying to concentrate on the other side of the river and not the hustle and bustle below us. I feel his breath against my ear, his fingers exploring me gently.
Without ceremony he pushes himself inside me, making me moan and grind back up against him. My hands have no handle, sex against the window gives me little control, instead I’m trapped against the cold panel as his cock slams into me from behind. His hands are wrapped around me, his fingers in my mouth to stop me from crying out loud. I’m dripping wet and my head starts to steadily cloud up with pleasure with every hard, rough thrust.
I love it when he fucks me hard like this. I love the loss of control, how it feels being filled up and stretched by him. I’m lost in this thought when he whispers in my ear, reminds me that there’s another side to this window. I look down, bodies of people still walking past us. They surround us almost, and I pray that they can’t hear my moans from outside. How can they not see us having sex against the window like this? Maybe some do see, and the embarrassing thought turns me on so much I climax right there and then.
My pussy tightens up around him, I shudder in ecstasy as he continues to pump into me. My breath has fogged up the glass. I’m practically seeing stars and then I feel him thrust into me hard, one, two, three times before moaning out himself and burying deep as he cums inside me. I feel like my knees are about to collapse, but he scoops me up and carries me to the bed instead. We keep the curtains open for the rest of the night.