Moments: The Ninth Floor

3 a.m. and nine floors up from the wintry sidewalk and we were ghostly gray, tumbling over one another on your bed. Do you remember that night?

I don’t remember the bars we were at, or what happened otherwise. I don’t remember coming home. I just remember that we were drunk after a long night of drinking. Whichever way, your face was morphing from shape and figure to bands of light as I peeked down at you through your naked splayed legs.

Fucking my elevator girl nine floors up was always done with an athletic intensity.

Do you remember the sweat dripping from my chest during that winter blizzard? Or did we drink too much to remember anything?

With your legs peeled apart and in my hands, I drove you hard and, pushing your toes down toward your face, I leaned-in. I could see the concentration on your pursed lips as you polished your clit with tight, fast circles.

…rub that clit…

Then you hollered: Now. Go: FAST.

You always liked cumming as I was inside of you, your legs up on my shoulders and my hands supporting my weight on the wall as my balls slapped your ass.

You liked me to reach-around. Every time you’d say, play with my ass.

Then, tumbling over one another a couple more times and we were carelessly falling off the bed. Do you remember this night? Because in some poetic pause we held our weight on the bed. Your voluptuous ass was in the air and I was pounding deep inside of you – my weight leveeing every frustration about our relationship with powerful engine strokes I nearly redlined.

Do you remember how my balls slapped at your clit? How your cunt suctioned and slipped in its grip of me.

I want you to cum in my mouth, you said, with your head tilted up and back at me.

Words from a girl that you would never suspect.

I remember that, nearly in one motion, I flipped you around so that our hot mouths pulsed with breath onto the others at the rhythm of our heart’s beat. I want you to cum in my mouth, you said again.

That, I remember, opened my floodgates, and five seconds later I let myself rise to climax. Pumping into you furiously, in one motion, I pulled-out and leapt toward your face with my wet cock. In one elegant jump, I was barely on the bed – only supported by a couple fingers on the wall. But my cock landed a perfect hole in one just as I began to erupt inside your hot, wet aching mouth.

When you finally sucked me dry, I fell onto the bed, trembling and smiling.

You mumbled something sweet and then leaned into my rocketing heart. And that was the best sex I’ve had with a girlfriend in so long. But still, I could never love you. Because while the sex was athletic and intense and we came hard every time – you never belonged to me. And I never to you.

Do you remember that night?

Because I cannot remember much of you through the darkness of the drinks and dancing in smoky bars and the hollow bedroom that I always crawled out of when you fell asleep.

~ by The Provocateur on May 22, 2007.

2 Responses to “Moments: The Ninth Floor”

  1. That is poignant and beautiful.

  2. i always save you for last because you always steal away the breath from my lungs and make my heart race as if i were getting fucked every so intensely.

    i miss you my dear P.

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