Window Grip (OD)

It wasn't supposed to be complicated.

The window just stuck -- that's all. I was standing shirtless in sweatpants, early evening, trying to force the upper frame down. Summer heat had baked the metal track, and the glass wouldn't budge. I'd seen the maintenance guy do it before: push out, then jerk down hard.

I leaned out. Put my weight into it. Pressed.

The frame gave. Slid. Then stuck again. On my fucking wrist.

I grunted, tried to pull back. Nothing. My arm was trapped in the lip of the frame. I couldn't even rotate my torso without pressing my ribs into the inner wood. One foot was still balanced on the heater. The other hanging free.

Then I heard her voice.

-- You stuck or... just experimenting?

My stomach dropped.

Mari.

She stood in the doorway, barefoot, sipping iced tea from a cracked mason jar. Shorts low on the hips. Sports bra. Hair in a knot, sweat along her neck. The kind of girl who always looked like she'd just come back from climbing something with her bare hands.

-- Shit, no -- I just -- I thought if I could push this side down--

-- Uh-huh.

She walked in slowly. Circling like a tourist at an art exhibit.

-- So let me get this straight. You're half outside, sweating, arms trapped, dick pointed right at me. And you didn't plan this?

-- I didn't even know you were home.

-- And yet, you're in the perfect position for consequences.

She took a long sip. Ice clicked in her glass.

-- You're not going anywhere soon, are you?

-- I'm working on it. The frame just--

-- You sure? Looks like you're... stuck. Real stuck. Like, helpless stuck.

-- Mari.

She was already behind me.

I felt her fingers rest lightly on my lower back. Then dip down.

-- You've got no leverage here. No arms. One foot floating. Your ass is literally arched up like a present.

-- Don't.

-- I mean, I could just grab you. Right here.

She cupped me from behind through the thin cotton of my sweats. I flinched.

-- Whoa. That jump. Sensitive?

-- Mari, I'm serious. Don't mess with me right now.

-- That's adorable. You think you're in charge.

She squeezed gently, palm curling under.

-- Wow. You weren't kidding. You're already hard.

I tried to shift away. The heater edge scraped my shin. My elbow pinched.

-- Don't move too much, sweetie. You might tear your own skin.

-- Just help me out, okay?

-- I am. I'm helping you relax.

Her hand slipped into the waistband.

-- You're not wearing underwear?

-- It's hot out. I was inside. What does it matter?

-- It matters now.

Her fingers wrapped around me -- warm, soft, terrifyingly confident. She gave one stroke. Then two. Then none. Just held.

-- You ever been edged while stuck in a window?

-- I'm not into this. I'm just--

-- Mmm, funny, your body says otherwise. You're twitching. Leaking, actually.

Her voice shifted lower.

-- I want to see how long I can make you beg before you lose your goddamn mind.

I started panting. Tried to hold still. The straps of sweatpants were pooling at my ankles now, loose. She hadn't even taken them off completely. Just enough to humiliate.

She started stroking. Slow. Thumb circling the tip. Her other hand braced on my lower back.

-- Don't you dare come.

I clenched everything.

-- Mari, I swear--

-- You'll do nothing. You're mine until that window opens. And I'm in no rush.

I lost track of time almost immediately.

Her hand moved like she'd done this a hundred times. Not robotic -- worse. Casual. Like edging someone to madness was just something she did between breakfast and laundry.

She stroked me just enough. Not fast. Not even firm. A soft grip, a few fingers teasing around the head, her palm rubbing with no rhythm -- exactly the kind of touch that doesn't satisfy, only builds. And she did it while talking.

-- You really thought I'd just let this moment pass? You -- bent over like this, hard as hell, twitching every time I breathe near your cock?

-- Mari, please...

-- Oh no. Don't whine. You want me to stop?

I was shaking.

-- I just... I can't think.

-- Good. Thinking's overrated. I want you stupid. Right on the edge. That's my goal.

She ran her hand down again -- a single stroke, tight, fast. I jerked, hips jolting forward. My head hit the window frame.

-- Shit-- fuck-- I almost--

She stopped. Froze. Hand resting right at the base, heat pulsing through me.

-- Almost? Aw. Poor thing. You're so close.

She leaned in. Her lips were at my ear now, breath warm.

-- You're gonna remember this tomorrow. You're gonna feel it when you wake up. That ache in your balls? That's me. That's all me.

I whimpered. It wasn't even moaning anymore. Just a low, broken noise.

-- You're dripping. Wanna see?

She reached under me, caught a drop with her finger. Wiped it against my inner thigh.

-- All that juice and nowhere to go. You're like a soda can someone keeps shaking but won't open.

I felt dizzy.

My body kept trying to push forward -- to fuck her hand, to finish the unbearable climb -- but the window held me in place. Arms wedged, chest pressed into the sill, balls pulled tight against my legs.

She gripped me again. Two strokes. Three. Then faster. I started crying out.

-- Please-- I need-- I'm gonna--

And she stopped.

I screamed into the glass.

-- FUCK.

My forehead was sweating. My legs trembled uncontrollably.

-- That one was real, huh? Thought I was gonna let you finish?

She slapped my ass lightly.

-- That's one denied.

-- Mari... please. Just... don't tease me again. Either do it or stop.

She crouched behind me again. Kissed the small of my back, gently.

-- Oh no, honey. That's not how this works. You don't get to negotiate when you're bent over a windowsill with your cock out.

I was almost crying now. Breath hitching. Whole body tense and useless.

She pulled my balls back gently. Cupped them.

-- I can feel your whole sack clenching. It's like you're begging without saying a word.

-- I am begging. I'll do anything.

She smiled. I could feel it in her voice.

-- Good.

Then, silence. She stepped away.

I sobbed, straining in the frame. My cock, angry and red and pulsing with veins, bobbed in the air.

Then she returned.

-- Final round. Let's see if you can last.

-- Final round, huh?

Her voice sounded like a smirk. She cracked her knuckles softly, like she was about to restart a game she knew she was winning.

-- No tricks this time. If you're good, maybe I'll let you finish. Maybe.

I swallowed so hard it hurt. My forehead pressed into the cool glass. My hips were shaking. There was no part of me that wasn't burning.

She crouched behind me again. One hand wrapped around me -- hot, snug, familiar now like a fucking torture device. The other slid gently over my inner thigh, up to my balls. She cupped them again, softly this time, almost tender.

-- Poor things. So full. You're swollen. You're actually swollen.

I didn't say anything. Couldn't.

She started stroking. Proper now. Two hands. One on the shaft, one underneath. Rhythm. Fluid. Real.

I gasped, voice catching in my throat.

-- Don't you dare come until I say.

Her pace increased. Her thumb flicked under the head. I cried out.

-- You like this, huh? All that begging paid off?

She leaned in closer, still jerking me.

-- Say it. Say you're mine.

-- I'm yours.

-- Say it again.

-- I'm yours, I'm yours, fuck, I'm yours.

-- Good boy.

Then silence, except for the wet sound of her grip, the slap of her palm against my lower stomach, the creaking of my knees against the heater edge. My arms were going numb. My cock was vibrating.

I wasn't thinking anymore. Just twitching. Moaning. Whimpering every few seconds. My hips moved with her rhythm. I felt like I was crawling toward the edge.

-- You're close again, huh?

-- Yes. Please. Please let me.

She slowed. I growled, actually fucking growled in frustration.

-- Shhh...

She licked her palm. Gripped tighter. Started again. Focused. Serious now.

-- Give it to me, baby. Just like that. All of it.

I screamed into the glass. My cock erupted. Not clean. Not smooth. It was messy, gasping, shaking release. Ruin-style. I didn't cum so much as collapse into the orgasm.

My body jerked three, four times -- dry after the first splash -- and then just twitched. My head hung. My mouth was open. I wasn't breathing right.

Her hand milked the last drop out. Let me fall still. Then wiped me off with the towel from earlier.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I was just done.

She stood, stretched, casually.

-- That's what you get for trying to fix a window without a spotter.

I groaned.

-- Now hold still. I'll try not to drop it on your wrist when I pry it open.

I heard her climb onto the heater behind me. Something metal scraped. She leaned her weight forward. The frame jolted loose.

My arm slid free.

I slumped forward. Half-naked, drained, ruined. I barely noticed her walking past.

She stopped at the doorway.

-- Oh. And next time?

I looked up.

-- Wear underwear. Or don't. Honestly, I'm fine either way.

She winked, turned, and disappeared.

the crackle of air

(Written and edited by AlexisVriting)