Hot, on the Roof Hot, Other View

This is one person's perspective of the same complex erotic coupling. Please, find the other to compare... or to explain everything.

My God, it has been two years now since I lost my husband. Margaret Ruth (the "Love Psychic" and my best friend since college) said I was going to have about two years on my own. I know I'll never be completely free of the memory of that good man, and I don't want to, but I really would like to spend some time with someone like that again. Right now, it's mostly physical, but it'd be nice to have a solid, long-term relationship as well.

I'm thinking of this while I'm talking to two of my regular customers, two fantastically gay men who have been relentlessly trying to get me to star in one of their "films." They need a dominatrix, and they think my appearance is what they need. But it's not really my kind of thing, having no experience acting nor even fantasizing about doing anything like that. But they are nothing if not persistent, and I'm starting to soften a bit, but tonight I make some more excuses and send them on their way with a quick hug each.

I turn back to my job (hostess at a fancy restaurant in Salt Lake City). A guy is standing there, waiting, not a movie star by any means, but I involuntarily suck my breath in because he has the appearance of someone who, in my mind, has all the features that I like. I could fall in love with a guy like that. My mind races. Could he be the one? Or am I just to that point of desperation? Margaret Ruth said we'd have a lot in common, and I assumed that meant he would be tall. Tall he is not, but he does look honest and confident...

My professionalism kicks in right away, maybe too much, because he sort of stammers out his reservation name: "Martin..." Oh, shit, What are the odds of that? Did his parents pick that name before mine picked mine? He doesn't look much older or younger than me.

Unprofessionally, I try to establish if he is alone. He's meeting someone. Damn it all. But it appears it's not a lover, if I can make sense of his awkward, jumbled response, rather a business associate. So why does he seem so nervous? Is he intimidated by my appearance? Did I misjudge his confidence?

I reach for two menus, and with that motion, involuntarily look down at his hands for a ring. Nothing! No jewelry of any kind.

I whirl and stride toward a table I know I can watch him occasionally. I concentrate on trying not to swing and roll my hips more than normal; I don't want to appear desperate. But he really has no choice but to watch my ass, does he? As he settles into the chair, I notice a bit of a bulge in his pants. Or did I just imagine that?

I race to find Gwen, the server for that section. "Please watch the guy at Table 16," I plead, "I want to know everything that happens." She's not quite sure what's going on, but she's smart enough to agree, and spins off to her duties.

I grab Phil the bartender next. "Get him whatever he wants!" I demand, pointing. "It's on me if it comes to that!" Phil's a great guy, but has never seen me like this. He starts to say "Martina..." but I turn away before he can finish. He'll help, but I owe him a huge explanation later.

I go to the break room, and frantically find my cell phone. "Margaret Ruth," I mutter, "You'd better be there for me!" But she doesn't answer her land line. "Damn it," I swear, and dial her cell phone. No answer there. "DAMN IT! Don't do this to me!" I swear some more. Luckily there's no one near.

I get back out on the floor and try to do my duties. I watch him as much as possible, trying to not be obvious. There is a woman with him now, and they do seem to be business associates. I'm not a good judge of other women, but I could see why he might be attracted to her and not me, just based on appearances. Although I have to move around some, he never makes eye contact with me.

I don't know what to do next. I slip back out to the hall and try to call Margaret Ruth again. But as the phone rings through to her voice-mail yet again, I remember she told me once I would know Mr. Right when I meet him. But I don't know. Some of the signs are there--the name, for example--but are they enough? I'm wracked with indecision...

As I put the damn phone away, I just want to go into the break room and stay there until he's gone. An easy decision, and I'll never know. But I force myself to get up and look at him once again. He's alone!

I need to know, so I go over and ask him, as professionally as I can, if there is a problem with his companion. But he assures me that everything is fine but she won't be coming back. Again I am at a decision point, and it's killing me. Go for it or drop it? I feel myself pause in time for a moment and it is terribly awkward. He's looking at me with the same sort of expression one would use when meeting a new person and wants to know more about them, but is maybe a little shy.

I don't know what to do, but my mouth takes over and I blindly follow it over the edge of reason: "Would you care to go for a walk?" I hear it saying, although even as it comes out, I don't really know what that is going to entail.

He agrees without hesitation, and that breaks the ice a bit and I can relax a tiny amount. And I notice, for the first time, his completely disarming smile! It made me weak in the knees. I know there are some things I need to do, for myself and for my job, so we agree to meet at the elevator in twenty minutes.

I whirl away, ecstatic but also scared. What have I done? I find Gwen and sweet-talk her into covering for me. It's not busy tonight and I promise her some big favor for helping me. I then thank Phil and make up some lame excuse for him, too.

I grab my handbag, race to the bathroom and strip off all my jewelry. I can see no scenario where it's going to help a damn thing. Or would it? I lock eyes with the reflection in the mirror, arms stiffly down to the edge of the sink, and take a deep breath. Bra on or off? It hardly matters as I am not large, and I'm not sure what signal it would send to have it off. But it seems so constricting; off it goes. Weirdly, my fingers tremble a bit as I re-button my blouse. I stop for a quick piss, not even long enough to rethink...

My feet turn toward the door and the rest of my body follows. I don't know if twenty minutes or two have gone by. But there he is! He does seem fit and trim, but fidgets a bit standing near the elevator as couples pass by. His face lights up as I approach, but this is too public for me. I pretty much just sweep by him and head for the stairs.

No doubt this seems strange to him, but I have an urge to go to the roof. It's the most private place I think I can get to quickly. If I am to go down in flames, I want it to be sooner rather than later.

My excitement speeds my steps upward, and he keeps pace. Awesome! As I bolt through the final door into the heat of the open air, I know I've done that part right. I briefly think we should sit and talk a bit, but there's really no place to sit.

I weave through some air-conditioning equipment, glancing over my shoulder. He's right behind me, but I can tell he is somewhat hesitant. Have I pushed too far too quickly? I simply move to the wall at the edge of the building. The view would be spectacular, if I cared.

In a flash, I decide to go all the way. Yet I'm not sure how to do that. My clothes feel totally constricting, although they can't possibly be, and I want to be out of them. I press my hips to the rough concrete and... start unbuttoning my blouse.

He glides up behind me and pulls the silky fabric off my shoulders. I don't care where it falls. My small breasts would clearly be visible to anyone yet I know we are invisible. Still, it makes me feel voyeuristic, and that excites me even more.

He moves closer, and to one side. I can feel a hardness at the back of my thigh. His hands are warm on the skin of my stomach, and his fingers seem to naturally find the groove running from between my breasts to my navel. I revel in the feeling that I've kept in shape and he appreciates it.

About the time I want more, his hand finds one of my breasts. I have always wished for larger boobs, but his hand cups one of them gently, from below, and he seems perfectly comfortable with that. Then he finds a nipple, already well hardened, and I gasp at the sensation of his slightly calloused fingers gently teasing it. God, it's been way too long!

He keeps a couple of fingers busy on that nipple, as if to distract me from the other, now much lower, starting to work on releasing my pants. I don't dissuade him from working quickly; if he doesn't, one of us is likely to explode.

He masterfully gets my pants free and they drop down to my ankles. He starts to run a couple of fingers around the elastic of my panties, so I pull my hands off the wall and bring them behind me to release his belt. I have no idea which position we are going to end up in; my height could easily make our current position unworkable.

He slides my panties down as well, and I awkwardly kick off my shoes and wriggle to get my feet out of my crumpled slacks and underwear. He takes this opportunity to slide his pants down, and I can feel his hard shaft against my ass as I move about. I sort of want to face him, but I steadfastly keep my hands on the wall. If we can get this to work, I believe the animalistic nature of our positions will take me to new levels.

I alternately move my feet apart, incrementally bringing my cunt downward. At some point, even with the heat all around us, I can begin to feel the heat of his manliness. I move my feet as far apart as I can, and with him still in his shoes, it is enough! I bend over at the waist on the wall, and reach one hand between my legs to guide his shaft in.

I'm dripping wet by now, and open wide and eager. He stretches upward and I direct him right in. I can feel his eagerness, too, but, damn it, I'm tight! He gratefully stops his drive and lets me push backward against him. I push as hard as I dare, but I worry that he might blast his load before going to the hilt.

Suddenly his thickness slips past my snugness and I turn my head to the side to show him a full smile. Oh God, it feels so good! He starts stroking, gently at first, then deeper and harder and faster. I sense that he is not going to last long...

Within a few, wonderful seconds, he blasts his load deep inside of me. His grip, locking us together, is crushing, but I enjoy it. I love his strength and enthusiasm, and I didn't know I was still able to make someone come that hard and fast.

He slowly, ever so slowly, relaxes his grip, and slowly begins sliding his still-hard cock in and out a little. I let him do whatever he wants; the feeling is wonderfully erotic. I hope he can do more.

As if reading my mind, he snakes a hand to my front and down past my bush. He gently and inquisitively starts an exploration of my most sensitive area. I involuntarily gasp at his first touch of my clit, but I make no other sounds. I can't stop my hips from pushing back and just a little side to side.

I can tell he's experienced. And focused. And deft. My God, I think again, this is a good as it gets! It doesn't take long at all, filled from inside and expertly worked from the outside, to bring me the edge and send me hurtling off. I inadvertently cry out, but it's not one of pain, but full-on pleasure.

I really lose track of time; I imagine my orgasm to be measured in minutes rather than seconds. Not long after, my shuddering declines somewhat, he slowly reduces his touching. The hardness of the concrete under my elbows and the discomfort of the position of my legs comes seeping back into my consciousness, having been forced aside by the overwhelming primal sensations.

I don't want to feel him go, but its inevitable. I thankfully straighten and turn to face him. His expression is one of complete bliss as he looks up at me. I want to tell him that was the most fantastic sexual experience I have ever experienced, but I keep my damn mouth shut for a change. I simply melt into his embrace.

In any other place, at any other time, I'd literally sleep with him 'til morning, but that's not going to happen. Then I remember something very curious.

"I have an idea," leading him by the hand. A friend had stashed some yoga mats up here, I just needed to remember where. It takes me a minute, but I find them tucked between the wall and some metal cabinet thing.

I sense he understands, wordlessly, so we make ineffective pillows with our clothing. As I lay down on my side, he spoons in behind me, one arm draped across my waist. It is so natural and comfortable that it feels like I have done this before with him.

But within seconds I'm startled by hearing people's voices. Someone else is on the roof! I feel natural embarrassment about being essentially naked and trapped. I feel a slight response from him as well, but he quickly relaxes again, probably confident that we are well-hidden in the machinery.

I can't hear the other people's voices well enough to figure out what they are doing, but it soon becomes apparent: Exactly what we were doing, only much louder. My God, the woman must have been hornier than I was, as she quickly starts gasping and screaming. Geez, they couldn't even have gotten any of their clothing off.

I hadn't realized how just the sounds of sex could be so erotic, and I immediately start to feel a longing in my cunt again. It's not that I'm jealous, or less than satisfied after what just happened, but I truly want to have his hot rod filling me again. But I don't quite know how to proceed. Would it be rude to stroke him up again? Would he even be able to get hard again so soon?

But before I can make any sort of move, I feel a stirring against my buttocks, by what can only be one thing! I listen again to the others, who seem to already be just about at their peak. What the hell, if it gets him up again, I'll take it!

I dare to move my ass, imperceptibly at first, back and forth against his growing organ, and I am rewarded by increased pressure and size. I don't stop and he doesn't either, pressing more and more firmly into the crease between my buttock and leg as I wriggle shamelessly against him.

My height was a bit of a problem earlier, so I intend to put that behind us. I give him--and myself--a few moments more of simple pleasure, then I gently roll him on his back. He does not resist as I fling one long leg over him and straddle his stomach. If the other couple is still fucking each other's brains out, they are already forgotten by us.

I pin his shoulders to the mat, literally, then slide my cunt toward his standing dick. I continue sliding, bending him somewhat unnaturally, but I use caution to make sure I don't hurt him. I watch his face intently but also feel just where his hardness is with my most sensitive areas. I shift ever so slightly to one side, and back some more to get it just right.

He stares back at me with something like curiosity and awe tinged with fear. I hope I haven't crossed a line somewhere, but he doesn't resist or speak. When I feel he is in my perfect place, I pause for a second, to be sure, but not for very long.

I snap my hips quickly, and he slides right in! His expression changes to ecstasy as he immediately thrusts upward. I get the idea no one has ever done this to him. I press downward, my knees instinctually moving outward to bring us closer together.

I lean back to get the maximum penetration and that presses the top of his prick right where I need it. I am very wet again and his fluids from earlier don't detract. I start a slow rhythm, lost in erotic bliss. My world starts to contract to a small sphere of intense erotic pleasure centered deep in my core.

For a second, I worry that I will "lose" him in the pursuit of my pleasure, but then I conclude he's not going anywhere. I'm in control and loving every minute of it. His penis seems to be made for me, and I take it to the limit just as quickly as I can. Maybe it's just greed, but if I never see him again, I want this to be as good as it gets.

I think I must have cried out at least once in my intense and long orgasm, but I really don't remember. I do remember the world starting to take form again around me. It's still very warm, he's still hard and I'm almost completely satisfied. Wow! I would love to I try one more thing...

I shift my concentration from the exquisite feeling in my body to his. I don't know if he's capable of coming again, but I'm going to give it my best shot. As I pull and push my hips, I slide them a little side to side. He responds by slightly getting harder, but the more I watch him, the more it seems like I'm not getting much further. I tighten and squeeze my aching vagina as much as I can.

And it works! Within a few moments, he throws his head back, pushes up hard into me and comes again! I'm fulfilled, in two ways, and I know now this is where my future lies!

I'm as happy as I've ever been and I'm smiling broadly. I blurt out something like "I hope you don't mind if we spend quite a bit of time together." He pauses, as if to think of a witty reply, but instead I feel one final pulse inside me!

All my joy and fear and sexuality and longings and frustrations and twenty other emotions burst out and I explode in laughter and tears. This reaction crushes my guts all the way down to my cunt and I inadvertently squeeze him out. My tears fall in torrents to his chest, but I am laughing harder about my joy than I ever have. I gasp a few times to be able to speak again, and say, "My name is Martina, and I think I owe you an explanation!"