a key to a quay

(It’s quite long this one, so I hope you are able to find the time to read this pre-lockdown experience ~x)

I was enjoying the view from the first floor balcony over the water in the heat of the midday sun, listening to the lapping of water rolling in slowly on a rising tide. Where it collided with the walled jetty below me it licked up the faces of each stone, retreating with a satisfied sound back into the next oncoming wavelet.

I chatted away on the phone largely oblivious to all else but the view and my friend on the other end and as such failed to notice the usually quiet quayside below was no accompanied by a man walking his dog, a red setter, beautiful striking red coat in the blue-skied sun. You know when you get a sixth sense when you think, or know, someone is looking at you even though you hadn’t even known or noticed anywhere there in the first place, and yet, there’s a feeling, spooky almost, aware that another’s eyes are looking at you. Well, I got that feeling stood there in my denim shorts and sleeveless tee at what felt like high up on that balcony, almost believing I was in my own world and all I surveyed was just for me.

But it wasn’t the case, it was also for this one man and his dog out for walk a week or two before we officially entered what’s now known as Lockdown, due to the coronavirus. These days the quayside it even quieter but then there was me, and there was him and there was his setter.

I carried on chatting, soaking the view still at the same time and now partly aware of the man down below not too far away slowly strolling the waterside. I also had noticed him snatching glances at me, especially when I turned around to leaned on the railing and then turn back, I was sure his eyes had darted away just at that moment. Again, it’s a strange sixth sense.

The warmth of the sun played on my exposed skin while a slight breeze just took the edge of a heat which might have otherwise been intolerable for more than ten minutes at a time. I moved around, as you do when on mobile, finding chances to also spy him, after all, I thought if he was sneaking surreptitious glances at me then it was only fair I should of him too. I admit that I liked what I saw.

I also had the feeling he might have too; after all he was taking his time and not getting past very fast, in fact not getting past below the balcony at all. Instead he was taking his time then lingering when he could to stare at the water, and I think at me, or so I thought. I was uncertain if all the warmth I was increasingly sensing was just down to the weather. I was certainly pleased anyway at my friend letting me use their hideaway one-bedroom flat for me to finish some writing and research I been working on and was currently in a kind of incommunicado state for a few days, except for the friend on the phone but they didn’t know where I was exactly, and I didn’t tell them.

I kept the conversation going longer than I planned, chuntering about whatever incidental or trivial thing that came to mind, just so I could have an excuse to remain there on the balcony with something to do and to be able to ogle this guy, and to perhaps see what he would do.

Eventually after much evasive eye-avoidance on both our parts they eventually locked on and I couldn’t tear mine away, felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I smiled, unavoidably, a friendly smile, slightly embarrassed but not sure why. He smiled back, Phew, a relief, I thought. Ice well and truly cracked at least if not yet broken, although I didn’t expect it go further than this really.

I realised how actually hot it was, finished my phone convo then just on a whim said hi to him, he responded positively and then taking my whim further asked if he wanted some water or something, having noticed he didn’t seem to have a drink on him, for himself or the dog. I said I can bring a bowl down for the dog as well to drink from. He says he would really appreciate it, so I got a glass of water for him and used on of my flat-owners cat bowls with water for the dog and made my way downstairs and to the French windows on the ground floor out onto the quay.

He looked even better close up, and the dog was most friendly and very cool although clearly was pleased for the water, lapping it like the tide was the quayside. The dog’s name was Argo, short for Argonaut, which to me is a first and definitely unusual, named, he says, because from being a puppy he was always one for an adventure. He, the man, was Tom, and not, as I almost blurted but bit my tongue just in time before making a complete fool of myself, Jason. We shared the usual pleasantries that total strangers do now under the welcome shade of the balcony and the conversation became more relaxed. He was very easy to chat with and bonus, had a nice voice too, and of talking, intelligent for sure.

After a bit I, again on a whim I suppose, offered to make coffee and with which he was welcome to sample on of my homemade chocolate and beetroot brownies. He didn’t say no so I left him there and went upstairs to the kitchen. After a few minutes I felt again that sixth sense of eyes being on me, turned around and there he was, in the flat. The strange thing was, I didn’t mind, and he’d left Argo was tied up in the shade snoozing happily downstairs.

He was watching me making the coffee and I felt strange being watched but on the other hand quite flattered, unless he was a serial killer but I think I have a good sense of people and was pretty sure he wasn’t anything of the kind.

Again, I smiled, turned back to the coffee-making with a definite tingling up and down my back, spine and the backs of my bare legs. I suppose because it wasn’t my house I didn’t feel so territorial in that he’d come in, technically, uninvited, but again I didn’t seem to mind. I could most assuredly feel his presence, and he had plenty of that about him.

Before I next turned around I felt his hands slip around my waist. Also something actually uninvited but, oddly, not unwelcome. I felt it was cheeky, definitely bold and a little awkward but instead of putting a stop to it there and then I carried on making the cafetière, the aroma of which I always find incredibly sensual. He felt good up close, smelled fine too, partly of the sea air which filtered in through the open balcony glass doors, and partly of something very masculine. He was sniffing my hair which I knew also probably carried a hint of sun in it. Then he was kissing my shoulders either side of the straps. This was bold indeed, a total stranger now up close and personal in my friends flat with me on one of the hottest early spring days of the year so far.

Each kiss was electric, just with his lips he was sending shivers through my skin that excited every single nerve-ending to extreme levels of something very pleasurable. It was as though his lips were sinking into me with each touch, melting, merging, awakening something as equally hot within as was evoked by the weather without.

His hands met on my stomach and began gently kneading me while edging himself even closer against me. I didn’t move away but stood exactly where I was still watching the coffee brewing, this quiet inanimate onlooker exuding such a dramatically powerful aroma in its own right. His index fingers were very close to the base of my bra and then they touched and as such my breast, still on top of my clothing at this point but still enticed a frisson of interest in my nipples held securely inside my pink lace bra.

The sunlight skittered across my bare arms as I felt his hands move like he was sculpting me, moulding me into something new, different, or the same, just refreshing and testing the senses are all exactly where they should be; although, mine right now were beginning to scramble as randomly as the light that brazenly lilted in through the balcony doors on the breeze. As he found no obstacle in his way, as in any reluctance it appeared on my part, his fingers began exploring the underside of my breasts, how soft was his touch too, practised, careful and as warm as the day itself. I inhaled deeply a cocktail of coffee, sea and skin and felt myself relaxing, as much as was possible in the circumstances, into what was happening.

What was happening? I asked myself almost saying out loud, excuse me, how did we get to this from that, to now from then?

Thankful for the breeze as even in the shade of the apartment I started to warm up within myself. His fingers reached under my top and began edging its tight fit away from my stomach and waist and then over how it curved across my bra, lifting my arms he continue until he’d removed it altogether, still stood behind me, thankfully. I dared not look at his face or let him see mine I felt was now very hot across my cheeks. Again, excuse me, how did we get to this from that?

His hands played freely on my breast now, pushing them together and kneading them thrillingly, sending signals all the way down to my toes and back telling my body how pleasurable this is, however strange, unexpected and surreal. I closed my eyes and fingers slipping under the one cup of my bra discovering my nipple which he enticed further to erect. I breathed again the mix of aromas not more intense than before when he did the same to my other nipple, making sure to give each equal attention. This was turning into a very strange afternoon, but at least, I told myself, I knew his name, and his dogs too.

It’ never what is said between two people mysteriously attracted to each other for whatever reason or circumstance, it’s what’s not spoken, and certainly there was an awful lot right there and then not being voiced.

He dug his fingers into my breasts then guided me, us both, out onto the balcony into the full gaze of the sun and expansive blue sky, and the waves still lapping in what I thought a more excited way than before against the stone quay. He remained behind me the entire time and stood now at the railing looking out onto the empty promenade below both hands slipping down to the waist band of my shorts which he wasted no time to unbutton at first and then easily pull down the zip. Again, no resistance from me, it seemed, though I can’t explain why. How did we get to now from then?

He began easing my shorts away from my hips, my bottom, freeing them down my legs to make me step out of them, which I did, still without a word between us as though we’d both read the script and knew our parts to play by heart. Except there was no script, not that I knew and this did now feel like any dress rehearsal I’d ever before experienced. There I stood in just my underwear now, pink bra and black knickers, out in the open though the only one seeing was the passing gulls and of course, Tom. He kissed my neck from the back once again to yet again trigger those familiar shivers that such an act in the right context can elicit and this was that very time, illicit in fact as it also felt. Once again he ran his hands over my bra pulling me back against him, where I enjoyed the closeness, the strength of his arms, his hands, which soon make their way down my tummy onto my hips to play over my knickers to which I couldn’t help but gasp out loud.

He leaned me away and slightly over the smooth, rounded wooden rail and again from behind guided his hand between my legs parting me awkwardly and began rubbing me intently which served to quicken my breathing to almost, I imagined, heart-attack levels. I felt sweat beading on my face, my chest, between my legs, but also inside my underwear a different kind of moistening exciting from my pores. One hand down the front of my knickers, the other between my thighs, I started to move as he moved me, my hips grinding into both hands, Gripping the rail I pushed back but he didn’t move until I couldn’t hold back my orgasm and cum in a dizzying haze of heat and relief.

At this he didn’t wait before he yanked them down while I was still in the tail-end of the throes of what’d happened. I couldn’t stop him as it was so sudden, pinned as I was to the railing. He pulled my hips back parting my legs and it was then I knew his had opened his jeans and pulled his erection out of his shorts and was pressing it to my lips between my now very wet thighs. He pushed himself into me and I grabbed onto the rail under the heat of the sun almost about to faint with it all and was inside me quickly, deeply and pulled partly away but then did it again, then again, crashing in waves against my hips, my buttocks, into my sex each time all the way but determined to go all the way each time: and he did.

We were fucking out in the open air, on the balcony, under an anonymous sky. I pushed back form the rail though not sure why and I felt him sink deeper, tightly my muscles gripped him trying impossibly to relax to ease the force. I couldn’t, it only served to increase the intensity, bringing me closer once more to another orgasm which I fought to deny too soon. I felt his wet sex sliding, inside me, his fingers now clamped to my waist, his breathing laboured but with plenty more left in his lungs. It was blatant, risky, unwavering, so public, or would be if anyone had walked passed. Just then a boat appeared quite a way off in the water, a pleasure boat, a blue banner on its side sporting its name: Lady Luck. Through blurred eyes I watched it wondering, could they see us from there, probably not I thought, I was sure: unless they were using binoculars. Were they? I couldn’t have known either way as it simply cruised past I couldn’t be sure one way or another.

We were fucking as the sun attempted to beat us into submission, while I was close to admitting defeat to the next orgasm which came despite my best efforts and was almost painful as he didn’t break his avaricious momentum against me, with me, in me. Immediately after my bliss I felt his body buck and almost buckle, quicker and harder he fucked until I just knew he too came greedily releasing his seed, his cum into my now exhausted and overheated body just wearing a bra and nothing else.

When he’d finally stopped I fell heavily against the railing with him still behind me as I felt him slipping from inside me, and even after he did we stayed like that for several minutes, his breath and mine, both of us verging on laughing, at the release, the relief but probably also the absurdity of the situation. Below the balcony where I now felt like flotsam tossed from the sea, there was Argo, still in the shade and seems to have slept throughout the whole thing. Once again, I asked myself, how on earth did we get from that to this?

a key to a quay

© Emmaleela


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