Page 91 of Ship Happens
Pursing her lips, she stomps her little foot and screams internally. “Please fuck me!” she shouts, and the clinking stops. Seconds later, the neighbor’s balcony door slides open and shut.
Frankie covers her blazing-red face and groans, but she’s about to make that sound for a different reason. Having gotten what I wanted, I step into her and pick her up. She wraps her arms around my neck in a panic as I stride closer to the balcony railing.
“What are you doing?” she squeals as she dares to glance down. Dark waters look back at her.
“Giving you what you asked for. Now place your hands on the railing and hold on tight.”
She seems unsure, but she eventually stretches her arms out to the sides of her body. Gripping her legs, I take a step backand line myself up with her entrance. I can’t resist raising and lowering her hips a few times, which drags my cock through her pleasure.
Frankie whimpers each time my dick grinds over that sensitive place at the apex of her slit. Her hips roll, begging me to impale her and end her suffering. I adore the way she writhes in my arms. I bask in her greed as she begs for pleasure only I can provide.
“I want you inside me,” she quietly pleads.
“Louder.”
She closes her eyes. “I want you inside me.”
“You must not want it enough because that’s still pretty quiet.”
“Would you please fuck me before I lose my shit?” she screams, and the neighbor to our other side decides they’ve had enough as well. The door opens and closes.
At least she obeyed this time. I reward her by raising her hips and lowering her onto my cock. She hisses and drops her head back as I give her all of me.
“Do you want to come now, sweetheart?”
She nibbles her lip and nods at me, and my dick jumps inside her.
“Tell me,” I demand.
“I want to come.Pleasemake me come.”
Desperation drips from every word, and I try to think of anything other than the perfection before me. The fear was always the inability to satisfy her because I couldn’t get it up, not because I’m a two-pump chump. I never imagined fucking my ideal woman would come with such a drawback.
It’s the emotional connection.
Is it? Is this why erections come easily with her? Is this why I finish at an embarrassing pace? Is this why I’m looking into herpiercing eyes and wondering what it would be like to come home to her at the end of a long day?
“Fuck, I’m so close.” She adjusts her grip on the balcony. Her arms have begun to shake, and I don’t think she’ll be able to support herself much longer.
I pull out of her and drop into one of the armless chairs. “Ride me,” I demand.
Frankie straddles my lap and leans back so that I can enter her again. We moan together as I sink into her heat. Her hands wind around my neck, and her hips begin to roll. Warm breath rushes out of her each time I bottom out.
My hands move to her ass, where I squeeze and encourage her to ride me harder and faster. She complies, and her hips begin to buck rather than roll. Whimpers become cries of pleasure as her body quivers. Her grip firms on my shoulders, pinching the skin until it feels as if she’ll rip the muscles from my bones. The pain melds with her frantic sounds as she comes on my cock, squeezing and drawing the come from my balls. I let out a groan as I fill her, unable to hold back another second.
The gentle sound of applause cuts through our post-orgasm haze, and we turn toward the sound. Apparently, the balcony door didn’t signal our neighbor’s exit. Our neighbor came to bear witness.
Frankie covers her face and groans as more applause joins in, and the embarrassment is setting in for me as well. It only gets worse when we attempt a quiet exit. As Frankie gets off my lap, the chair legs scrape against the floor, and it sounds as if we’ve just blown wind. Giggles erupt from every direction.
“It wasn’t a fart!” I shout. “It was the chair!”
“Or a queef,” a man titters from nearby.
I try to repeat the sound, but of course the chair refuses to cooperate this time.
“Let’s just slink away.” Frankie looks at the chair. “Quietly this time.”
We hurry back into the cabin to lick our wounds. I thought a little exhibitionism would be fun, but maybe that’s one kink I can cross off my list. The feeling seems to be mutual. You could cook eggs on Frankie’s fiery cheeks.
