Unforgettable smoke break
The hardest night is before the last exam; the feeling of the importance of what's happening weighs on your shoulders and won't let you close your eyes, forcing you to stare wearily at the monitor. I'm used to working lying down; it just became a habit since the end of my first year—my desk in my room is just for show, for the beauty and harmony of the interior, although sometimes I do pile things and small junk from my pockets on it so I won't have to search for them for a long time in the future. Closing the window with lectures on enzymology, I blinked tensely and moved the trembling cursor to the very edge of the monitor, making the taskbar appear. Well, it's already two o'clock, and it feels like just recently my sister wished
me goodnight and went to sleep, has that much time really passed?A strong desire to smoke arose. First, I thought about opening the window, but leaning out up to my waist, as I used to, won't work—my little sister made me put mosquito screens on all the windows, including mine. I suspect it's not because of mosquitoes, which have never existed in our city on the seventh floor, but precisely because of my habit of smoking at night. Sighing quietly, I got up from the bed, stretched my lower back, and as quietly as possible crept to the front door, pulled the handle, and winced; the lock was locked. The keychain sticking out of the keyhole jingled, but I managed to cover it completely with my palm and turn the key as quietly as possible, simultaneously grabbing my windbreaker from the hanger.
Not that we have freezing cold in early June, but cigarettes, a lighter, and my own keys are in the windbreaker's pocket, and looking for them in the dark isn't worth it. In the narrow hallway with three neighboring apartment doors, a bright energy-saving light bulb was burning brightly above the electrical panel; I screwed it in myself last year, hanging a small sheet below with a handwritten threat to rip out the nails of anyone who dared touch this property—so far, no such brave souls have been found, apparently, they don't want to mess with a psycho. The elevator area was also lit; the building administration installed non-removable lighting a couple of months ago—you know, those long stick-like lamps built right into the wall. Before, there were regular sockets and light bulbs here, and this stuff used to disappear from here with enviable regularity.
The good times on the shared balcony were over. Usually, this area was lit from the open door of the stairwell, but now impenetrable darkness reigned there, and I had to climb slowly and carefully, feeling each step with my foot and holding onto the railing for safety. Here's the eighth-floor balcony. Why did I come here? Because it's one of the two unglazed shared balconies in the building; there's another one on the eleventh floor, but it's far to go there, and I have no desire to trudge up at all. It's so nice here; I love coming out around five in the morning when the whole city is still asleep, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette—yes, yes—and then returning home and crashing to sleep, because games are good, but sometimes you need to sleep, at least a little.
Lighting up, I looked down where a small green alley was, a lone streetlamp shone dimly, and several cars parked right by the entrance winked with their alarm indicators. Unable to resist, I spat heartily on one of the cars, happily noting that I hit the windshield, and took a long drag. I didn't hear the quiet, shuffling footsteps right away and realized I wasn't alone on this night balcony only when I heard a voice.
"Young man, could you spare a cigarette?" A young woman came out onto the balcony from the door leading from the eighth-floor elevators. I'd seen her a couple of times when she left early in the morning with her daughter and caught me here with a cup of coffee and a smoldering cigarette butt. The woman's voice was calm and a bit upset. I silently shrugged, clenched the cigarette between my teeth, and pulled out the pack I'd just opened this evening. It won't hurt me, and kindness sometimes comes back—not often, true, but still...
"Much obliged." After fumbling a bit, the nocturnal guest finally fished out one cigarette from the tightly packed pack, and through the smell of the mist, I caught a subtle, barely perceptible scent of perfume mixed with the smell of alcohol.
"Um... Don't happen to have a light, do you?" Spreading her hands, she inquired and winced guiltily in the dark, to which I just smirked, pulling out my lighter. The flame danced in the unsteady calm, and the stranger leaned forward, covering the hand with the lighter with her palms and bending over it in an attempt to catch the flickering flame with the tip of her cigarette.
"Thank you... so much." She informed me, taking her first drag and exhaling a small cloud of smoke into the mist.
We stood and smoked in silence, gazing somewhere into the distance, not trying to see anything there, just because.
"Aren't you a bit young to be smoking?" Unexpectedly breaking the hanging silence and disturbing the formed tranquility, the brunette inquired, brushing a strand swollen from the mist and drizzle from her forehead and looking at me intently.
"Just hit twenty." Without turning, I grunted and grinned. Look who's talking, a guardian angel found. They still sometimes ask for an ID at the store, especially when I come in with a backpack, but why dig into it here?
"Ahhh... Then sorry..." She replied somewhat disappointedly and took another drag, then, exhaling sharply and carelessly flicking the butt to fly onto the roof of the same car, turned to me.
"Do you like me?" She decided to clarify the question that surfaced in her drunken mind. At first, I was surprised, also turned to my interlocutor, and tried to make out at least something in the dim half-light.
"No! Tell me, do you like me or not?" Taking my studying silence as a negative answer, she added a few hysterical notes to her voice.
"Yes, I like you, I like you." So that the drunken fool would leave me alone, I muttered, also tossed my butt away, and was about to leave when she took a step and hung on my neck, wrapping her arms around and pressing her chest against me.
"Then I like you too..." She confidently exhaled into my face with the smell of stale alcohol and tobacco. I winced slightly and tried to push her away, but my palms felt soft and firm breasts, and my dick, against my will, began to rise—what does it need at my age?
"Oh... Now I believe..." Trying to be playful, she purred awkwardly and attempted to kiss me. Still thinking with my head, I turned my face away, and a hearty, utterly slobbery kiss landed not on my lips but on my cheek. However, her tongue running over my skin made my soldier absolutely certain that it was time for great achievements and to stand at attention, pressing against the crotch of the neighbor from upstairs who was still clinging to me.
"I understand." She announced that she understood everything incorrectly and, releasing her embrace, plopped onto her knees. I was ready to take a step back, retreat into the darkness of the stairwell, but I hesitated for a moment, and that moment was enough for the drunken woman, who had gotten something into her head, to hook the elastic of my home sweatpants and, along with my underwear, yank them down.
The panic that flared up in my consciousness for a moment immediately disappeared, stepping aside and giving way to pleasure that ran from my dick throughout my entire body. Not wasting a second, the lady had already wrapped her lips around the head and was lavishing it, generously moistening it with saliva and running her nimble, lively tongue over the delicate skin. porn stories
Unable to hold back, I moaned quietly and leaned forward slightly, as if encouraging her actions, and she intensified the onslaught, grabbing my hips and literally impaling her mouth on the erect dick. Now the excitement from the little head began to spread to the main one, distorting consciousness and swapping priorities. This absurd situation gradually stopped seeming crazy to me, and the anxiety passed, allowing me to enjoy the unexpectedly bestowed blowjob.
Saying "to hell with it," I placed my palm on the back of her head, weaving my fingers into her thick, damp hair and setting the pace. After playing by my rules for a bit, the stranger surprised me again, absolutely voluntarily and on her own initiative, taking the head deeper, letting it pass into her narrow and convulsively pulsating throat. I trembled and reflexively pressed down on the head frozen at my crotch, going deeper until my balls touched the wet and slippery chin, slick with saliva flowing from her mouth. That moment was simply magical. She tightly wrapped her arms around my butt and wheezed, making no attempt to pull away or break free while I, getting into the swing of things, made several quick and powerful thrusts, moving in her narrow throat. Pulling my dick out sharply, I let her cough and catch her breath a little, watching with dazed eyes as thin threads of thick saliva stretched from the head to the woman's lips. And she, having taken a breath of oxygen, started the procedure again from the beginning, and again this bliss of a narrow and pulsating throat, and again that wheeze, which now was much more melodic than any violin or piano.
This couldn't go on for long. I was about to start cumming when she took my dick out of her mouth, frantically waved her hands, urging me to stop, and slowly got to her feet, casually wiped the saliva from her face with the sleeve of her blouse, and began hurriedly unbuttoning her belt, all the while looking me straight in the eyes. In her gaze, despite the poor lighting, I saw the flame of lust; a powerful desire mixed with a slight madness in her, creating a spectacular, arousing, and reckless cocktail. When she yanked her tight jeans down to her ankles, I grabbed her juicy, full-of-life-and-joy ass with my palms, squeezed the fleshy buttocks in my hands, and confidently, as if it were meant to be, slid my hand between her legs, feeling with my fingers the soaking wet, hot, and sticky fabric of her panties. She was flowing like a stream; it was immediately clear how much the situation aroused her, and when I ran my finger through the fabric between her two swollen labia, she arched her back and let out a long moan, completely unashamed and unrestrained.
At that moment, I also stopped caring about everything. The scent she was emitting was the best aphrodisiac, driving me crazy and awakening something primal, hidden deep inside under the veil of civilized culture. Without dragging out the foreplay, I moved the small strip of secretion-soaked fabric aside and, positioning myself, entered her hot and wet depths sharply, firmly holding onto her wide hips.
"Oh yes-ss-ss!" She exclaimed and, bracing her hands on the balcony railing, pushed back, trying to impale herself even harder, striving for me to go even deeper, and I leaned forward, pressing her ass against my crotch; my balls slapped against her pubic bone. Describing something like this is very difficult; it's like millions of electric discharges running along the nerves to the brain and from there spreading throughout the body, giving unreal bliss.
Pulling the windbreaker off my shoulders, I threw it on the floor by the wall, slowly pulled up my underwear and pants, and sat down tiredly, pulling a new cigarette from the pack. The stranger, standing for a bit and catching her breath, stepped over her lowered jeans, carefully pulled her wet panties off her hips, and handed the piece of lacy fabric to me, who was barely thinking straight. I accepted the gift, stuffed it into my pocket, and looked at her bare thighs and the flushed slit, which she showed briefly while lifting her leg and stuffing it into the pant leg.
"What's your name, anyway?" I smiled tiredly when she sat down next to me, pressed herself firmly against my side, and also lit a cigarette.
"Vika." She replied somewhat quietly but very contentedly and took a long drag.
"And I'm Vitya, nice to meet you." I chuckled nervously and, after sitting a little longer, got to my feet, looked down. Well, someone was unlucky with their parking spot; in one night, their beloved car got spat on, littered with cigarette butts, and in the end, even cummed on. I really hope the owner never finds out whose handiwork this is.