The View - A Continuation

This is a sequel of sorts to the following story: https://theprose.com/post/74256/the-view

It is more explicit than the first part, as a warning to those that do not like erotica.

~~~~

The room was clean again. The air was fresh, yet it could not fully rid itself of the scent that the room held in its history. The polished wood trapped that history like secrets trapped in amber. The room had a history. Patrons that have come and gone: businessmen, lovers, loners, perhaps even a family or two. The room had a history. The room held the history, almost like a silent film. That is, if you knew how to look at it.

A woman - the current patron of the room - sits in the chair and waits. Waits while she stares out of the leaded window. She is fully naked this night and fevered with illicit thoughts, her fingers already at play, teasing her own skin. She has no patience to wait for what she know is coming. She has extended her stay an extra week upon discovering the secret that the room kept. Just as long as one was sitting in this particular antique chair, at a particular time of evening, staring out the leaded glass window at just the right angle.

She watches as the sunsets paints the walls across the way in yellows, oranges, and reds. Watches again in deep anticipation as twilight sucks the colors dark while she slides her fingers along the wetness gathering on her inner thighs. She makes sure she has the angle to the window just right. The angle was critical. The angle was everything.

She watches until twilight gives way and the leaded glass catches the reflection of the room instead. Watches until she see the man again in the reflection of the window. God, how she has come to lust for the man. Watching how he devours and loves and fucks his lover. She wishes she was her. She had had lovers but none of them have touched her as the man touches his love.

She watches him sitting on the bed, naked, his body and his sex hard. She watches him wait for his love, like he has for the past few nights. Just like before, he doesn’t touch himself, although she wishes he would. Yet, she desires him even more because he waits. She thrills at the fact that the woman has so much power over him that he can be so aroused just by the thought of her. Yet, one more way she envies the woman on the other side of the reflection, for she is certain she has never stirred that level of lust into anyone like that herself.

She drinks him in and touches herself, having no qualms of having to wait. Her desire is so hot tonight that in this moment where it is just her and the man, she imagines walking over to him and climbing into his lap, sliding him into her depths, and riding him like she knows he loves to be ridden. She’s never fucked a man like that and now having watched him be fucked like that by the other woman, his real lover, she hungered for it.

There is a knock at her door, the sound of it pulls her attention away from the window in reflex.

“Shit!” she utters under her breath, her heart racing in sudden panic as she turns back to make sure she has not lost the right angle, and thus the spectacular view. The naked man shimmers back into focus. Her heart starts racing again in a different way, anxiety of what was almost lost being replaced with a lust as free as she has ever had it. She could enjoy it without judgement or shame.

Another knock at the door. Harder this time.

“Go away, I am trying to rest! Can you not read the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the door?”

A quiet voice whispers loud enough through the door to catch her ear, but not so loud to carry far, “I know why you do not wish to be disturbed, Kathreen. Please, I need to speak with you and we both know the timing is short.”

It bothers her that the voice on the other side of the door knows her name. It bothers her that out of all times to come knocking, it has to be now. “Just a minute.” She quickly tosses on her silken robe, sashing it closed as she marches angrily toward the door, not caring how close her stiffened nipples are to tearing the sheer fabric apart.

She opens the door, with the chain lock keeping it from opening it any further. There is a beautiful, although very haggard woman on the other side. The haggard woman asks, “I would like to buy the room from you, right now. I am even willing to pay for your entire stay. I am even willing…”

“Not interested, good-b…”

“Wait! I know why you don’t want to leave. I have seen her too. I need to see her again. Please! I had this room reserved. It was suppose to be mine. They had some mix up when you extended your stay, please.”

“I am sorry, that is not my fault. Now please leave, I really want to go back to resting.”

The haggard woman laughs, and she says in a slightly louder voice, “You mean you want to go back and start fingering yourself again.”

Kathleen starts to blush, “Shush! Someone might hear you.”

“Give me the room then. Or at least, let me share it for the next hour.”

“If you know the room, then you know there is only one chair and you can only see what is there to be seen if the angle is just right.”

The haggard lady smiles a wicked and wanton smile. A smile that held a secret, “If you truly knew the room, you would know there are more than just the one view, and some of them are much more...enticing than others. We are wasting precious time.”

The mere idea that there were other views in the room never dawned on Kathleen. The fact that some of them might be somehow better than the one she knew about excited her senses to a tipping point. “What is one of the other ways?”

“Let me in!”

“Tell me another way to see them.”

“We are wasting time.”

“I have this room for another six days, I am willing to sacrifice tonight, are you?”

The haggard woman has a manic and beaten look to her. “Fine. If you sit right on the edge of the pillow on the bed, looking out the window, you get...a much different experience. Please, just let me in. I need...I need to watch her again. Please?”

Kathleen sighs, she has no desire to share the room, she enjoys the freedom of being able to touch herself alone, without judgement. The last time she masturbated in the company of other women, were her college roommates, and they teased her endlessly for it. But, if what the woman said was true, it might be worth watching without touching.

Kathleen shuts the door enough to undo the chain lock, opens the door, “Can you at least give me your name before you join me?”

The haggard woman smiles a bright smile, “Joan, but my friends call me Joanie.”

Kathleen closes and locks the door as Joan flows into the room, shedding her attire with each frantically quick step, until she is completely naked on the antique chair. A hungry smile comes to her lips and she whispers, “Wow, look at him. I cannot wait to see what she does to this patron.”

Kathleen walks slowly to the bed, hoping that Joan has not made up a tale about other views at other angles, “Patron? He is there every night with his lover.”

Joan looks at her, “Really? I have never seen him before. For me, it always has started with a woman sitting on the bed waiting.”

Kathleen sits on the edge of the bed, against the pillow, “No, it is always him, followed by his lover. Every night since I’ve been here.” She adjusts and looks toward the window, she can see Joan in the reflection, but nothing else.

“Move a bit closer to the pillow, so your resting just barely against it and look more to the right in the window, so I am just in your periphery.”

Kathleen suddenly sees him again, the man of her dreams. The man that has taken over all of her lustful thoughts. He is a bit more faded from this angle. She feels cheated.

“You said…”

“I said some of the angles were more enticing. I didn’t say how. Close your eyes and listen. Close your eyes and smell.”

Kathleen did not want to lose the view, but does as she is told. She listens and she can suddenly hear the faint breath of a man waiting, waiting with a pent up lust. She takes a breath and she can smell a faint scent of a musky cologne. Her heart races.

Joan laughs and says, “The view is a bit more muted from that angle, but the other senses are enhanced.”

Kathleen suddenly hears a door open from far away in the past, followed by a whiff of floral purfume, followed by a sultry whisper of a woman’s voice, “You are still here.”

Joan whispers in a different timber, “She is here! Open your bloody eyes.”

Kathleen opens her eyes and sees the man’s lover, standing in front of him with her lovely smile, slinking out of her dress. Kathleen can see Joan finger herself at the sight of the woman. The lover is who she was eager to see. She knows the lover intimately by the way she takes her in.

The man whispers back to his lover, “Yes, I am. Seems I still cannot leave.”

The lover smiles, and replies, “Or perhaps you do not want to.” The lover then kneels and takes him into her mouth, keeping her hands to her sides. He moans and rocks back and forth. Kathleen can feel the slight motion of the bed. In the reflection in the glass, she can see herself sitting next to him, with his lover between his legs, sucking away on him, looking up with tenderness. Kathleen can see Joan both in the reflection and in the room proper, molesting herself without a care that Kathleen can see.

Kathleen is torn. She wants to join in. She is on fire with want. Her lust for this man. Her enjoyment of voyeuring him and his lover and their endless conquering of each other. She can hear the laughter of her roommates as she starts to come. The sound of it still haunts her, still shames her. She looks at Joan and sees a woman too lost in her own lust. Joan is panting and whimpering like a bitch in heat. She has no care that Kathleen is there watching her. Joan is sex-crazed. It was in her eyes when Kathleen first opened the door, and it was on full display now. Joan was addicted to what the room offered. She craved it like a drug.

Kathleen tries to block out the laughter from her past and lets her robe slip open. She starts to let her fingers try to calm the heat on her flesh, or perhaps try to stir it higher. Joan responds to her, or the lover, or the man by sitting on the edge of the chair, fingering herself deep and hard and fast. Joan’s pantings mix with the grunts of the man, and the moans of his lover sucking harder on his cock. Kathleen slides her hungry fingers along her slit, and almost weeps at the heat, the sheer wetness, and the pleasure of it all.

The room is suddenly amix with rivaling perfumes, and sweats, and bodily musks. The sounds of the four lovers are suddenly sharper, as if the room only gives the distant sounds to willing participants of pleasure. She can feel the bed rock and the man starts to lose his control and begins to thrust back into his lovers mouth, fingers locked in her hair. She watches her lover reach for him and stroke him over the edge while sucking away. Kathleen swears the lover is smiling around his cock. She dreams of doing the same. Her fingers dip eagerly inside herself.

Joanie screams and comes. Kathleen watches her in fascination as the woman sharing her room orgasms so violently. She jerks her own fingers in response. She swears that the lovers in the reflection somehow sense it too. The man comes harder than Kathleen has ever seen him, but his lover doesn’t stop. She never stops. This is one of their routines. One of her appetizers. Only when he is finished does she let his erection slip from her mouth, a pearled stream connecting her luscious, smiling lips to him.

Kathleen heart races. She loves the moment when the tables turn. She watches the lover stand and climb into his lap. Watches her still stroke him and watches him tremble at the overwhelming pleasure of it. Watches her impale herself on him. Watches her kiss him full on the mouth, hungrily. And ride him, hard, as if her life depended on it. As if there wasn’t enough time to wait.

But this time, she also heard every sound the two lovers made, could smell all of the scents of sex filling the room. Kathleen is so close to her edge, she can taste it. She can almost taste him on her own lips, she barely care what Joanie might think about how she is touching herself. The lust at watching the lovers play their game is so deep, she is barely aware Joanie is still there lost in her own, semi-private bliss watching the lovers, and herself.

“Holy fuck!” Joanie cries out as the lover pushes the man back on the bed, her hands braced on his chest as she rides him hard, screaming in bliss.

Kathleen cannot even register what sounds she is making herself, as she tries to match her fingering to the shaking she can feel in the bed, by lovers that were once there.

Kathleen comes and closes her eyes when the lover screams out and comes. She pulls her fingers from her cunt and attacks her clit, and she shudders as the pleasure hits her in waves. She shudders as she can almost imagine the man’s cock sliding in and out of her. She bounces on the bed to mimic how the lover is still riding the man. She squeezes her breasts as she knows the man is probably squeezing his lovers. Kathleen opens her eyes to see him doing exactly that as he comes again, deep inside of her. Kathleen can almost feel his warmth filling her too.

Kathleen suddenly jolts as Joan’s tongue licks her cunt. Kathleen looks down at Joan’s ravenous smile right before Joan licks her again. Kathleen gasps as the pleasure floods her. No one has ever licked her with more than just a curiosity touch, and never a woman. Joan’s tongue attacks in a knowing way, a lusting and lovely way. Kathleen melts into it, letting her fingers get lost in Joanie’s auburn hair. Her friend’s call her Joanie, right. What a silly thought to cling to in the moment.

Kathleen looks toward the window again and swears the man and his lover is watching her now. To see there lust-filled stares toward her is too much, she buckles and orgasms. Joanie slips her tongue deeper. The only thought Kathleen can hold is that Joanie better damn share this room with her, and every other secret this room contains.

~~~

I stroke Charlotte’s thigh as we both recover from our couplings, or at least recover enough to continue. She sighs and I let my fingers get closer to her sex. There is something magical about Charlotte. There was always something magical about her. Even when I was in the other time watching her through the reflection of the rooms window.

But, my lust never stays sated for long while I am with her, and perhaps she is right. It is not that I haven’t found a way to return to where or when I came from, but perhaps I do not desire to really leave.

My fingers tease her, as hers slowly brings my sore cock back to life. Just then, there is a shimmer in the window, and I swear I catch the blurry reflection of a naked woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to us, being devoured by her lover.

The image is blurred, as if it were raining, but no less erotic. I point it out to Charlotte, she turns to look, “Pity, I don’t see it.” Then she turns to me and gives me a hungry smile, she crawls over my body, sliding her breasts along my face, her belly, her sex. I lick her, tasting how sweet we taste together, but she doesn’t linger, she continues to crawl over me, until she is behind me.

I turn and climb onto the bed behind her.

“Fuck me,” she says softly. It is a perfect blend of a plea and a command.

I kneel behind her as she raises herself higher, I side in and moan as I have only moaned with her, I look at the reflection, and the lovers are still there, now crystal clear. Two women. And with every thrust into Charlotte, I can hear the one moan, counter to Charlotte’s.

“Fuck me, I think I can hear who you can see!”

Charlotte has an appetite for the erotic. All I know is she comes to this room to exercise it. All I know is that I have somehow become entangled into her life. I have this sense that if I do not leave soon, I might never be able too. Like Charlotte keeps telling me though, perhaps I don’t really want to.

“Tell me what they are doing, as you...Fuck me…”

I try to tell Charlotte that the women have switch positions. I try to describe their unique beauties. But, my words start to become grunts and moans.

“I wish...they were here...with us...ugh.”

I see the woman in the reflection shudder. I grip Charlotte’s hip harder, pounding harder…

“Yes! Fuck me. I hear her...coming...she sounds so sweet.”

I explode against all of the sensations. I fill my lover as I have now countless times before in the days I’ve been here. The feeling of Charlotte all around me. The scent of our sex in the air. The view of two women intertwined on this very bed on the other side of the reflection of the window, and the deep lust dripping from Charlotte’s wanton lips. She is a siren pulling me deeper into her keep, into her game. I wonder if she actually pulled me to this place. She denies it, but I still wonder.

We collapse as my orgasm ends and Charlotte’s begins. Her pleasure bleeds into me. I try to savor it all. I know she will eventually leave in the early morning. Leaving me to fumble in this foreign world alone for yet another day. Until tomorrow night, when we will repeat our tryst. Unless I figure out a way to return, assuming I even want to.

I stare at the reflection in the glass, and it is only me now staring back. I barely recognize myself. I’ve changed. Charlotte has shaped me to exist better in this place. But, that might not mean for the better.