She stood at the edge of the mezzanine level, bent at the waist, hands gripping the brass rail. Her gloss heels and polished latex skater skirt reflecting the laser show lights that danced across the chill out area. The force of his cock, pumping into her from behind, rocked her back and forth on her tip toes, almost in time to the trance music blaring from the heaving dance floor below.
I sat, resting in the red velvet theatre seat, and watched them. He sat next to me, hand resting protectively on my stocking clad thigh, intently observing me observing them.
“Do you like what you see?” he enquired.
I squirmed in my seat, simultaneously embarrassed at silently revealing my admittance. I smiled, my eyes never leaving them, increasingly aroused by our view. She had her head down now, bracing against his thrusts as her long hair swayed to and fro. Oblivious to their audience and the extravagantly dressed kinksters coming and going around them.
He leant in towards me ever so slightly, as his hand trailed up my thigh and stopped. Eyes forward, his other arm casually resting on the flocked arm rest, he tapped one finger against my mound.
“Open your legs.” It wasn’t a request.
I slid forward a little and tilted my pelvis, opening my legs as wide as the seat would allow. I rested one heel on the back of the empty seat in front.
“Don’t make a sound, just watch” he whispered. Finding the slit of my open crotch latex knickers he dipped one then two fingers into me, swirling my wetness around the rubber, both acknowledging and shaming my response to him, and them.
Silently, slowly, excruciatingly he finger fucked me. Expertly matching his penetration to that of the cock below. Mesmerised by what I could see, and stimulated by what I could feel, the sight and the sensation blended. The cock was fucking me, he was fucking me, he was fingering me, and he was not going to stop.
I clutched at the arm rests as my cunt clutched at his relentless sopping fingers. The scent of my arousal hung in the air like the smoke and the sweat from the dancers below. And the beat of the music pounded on as he pounded me and he pounded her.
“You love to watch don’t you?” he growled, breaking the silence between us. “My filthy little voyeur.” Desperate now for more I rocked my hips to take him deeper, to open wider and ride his fingers harder.
“Please…” I whimpered, feeling it rise within me, powerless to prevent it against the repeated pressure against my clit, his finger tips grazing my G spot over and over in harmony to the fucking being played out in front of us, a show within a show.
Fuck, he was going to make me do this. I glanced down. He had her by the hair now, head pulled back, mouth open, his hand gripping her hip as he used her like a doll. Nearly there.
Each word forced out on ragged exhales, balancing on that knife edge between here and oblivion. He withdrew his fingers fully and as I gasped at the sudden emptiness and began to turn he forced them back inside me. Deeper. Fuller.
I clamped around his hand as I combusted, arching hard against the waves and involuntarily throwing my head back against the knees of whoever was sitting behind us, echoing the fuck doll at the rail, her own climax drowned out by the bass beat below us.
And the lasers danced and flickered and the party people came and went as we chilled out in the Coronet.
Click the link to see who else is enjoying a Masturbation Monday –