Room with a View

Never. Never is such a powerful and definitive word in which most don’t adhere to. They declare they’ll never do this or that, to find themselves drawn like a moth to a flame regardless. Never is a brave word spoken usually by the weak.

Last night, her dreams were filled with the episode that had transpired. Each flash in her mind’s eye, his Adonis like form was showcased, but his facial features always changed.

In some dreams, his hair was raven black, while others it was chocolate brown. In some, his eyes were warm, sable brown, others, they were green as hers. Nearly all, lips full and at the ready to bestow pleasure upon her mouth and heated form. Invariably, his expression was a mixture of passion, awe and pure animal-lust. No matter which dream it was, his appearance brought her to her knees every time.

The following morning, her body was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, panties damp with arousal. Immediately, upon rising, Buffy needed a cold shower to quell her heated form.

As the cool water rained upon her sensitive skin, Buffy thought about meaning of her dreams and the feelings that ran rampant throughout her body and mind. The less than a ten-minute time period shattered her conceptions of what true desire was.

Sure she had wanted men before, but this feeling surpassed want. It exceeded any feelings she’d known before. His magnificent form had made every nerve-ending tingle with excitement and spiked her arousal with one short-lived glimpse. Never before had she been brought to the abyss of sheer pleasure. Not even under the hands, mouths or cocks of her three past lovers.

As the water became too icy for her to bear, Buffy pulled herself from the shower. Rubbing the towel over her still hypersensitive flesh, she determined last night wouldn’t happen again.

Never.

Never was a minuscule period of time in Buffy’s world. Less than twenty-four hours later, her form was engulfed by the shadows of her room, as the curtains remained divided, her gaze fixed upon the darkened window across the way.

Her flesh prickled with anticipation as the clock ticked off the minutes to his arrival. Buffy hoped that he was a creature of habit, as she; so he would arrive in his room, freshly shower within moments. As the time passed, Buffy was slightly letdown, as the minutes ticked by.

Her mind then screamed that she was sliding into unknown territory. She was becoming a stalker. With this thought eating at her conscience, she turned from the glass. Before she moved her now disgraced form, out of her peripheral vision, she saw the beacon of light spill forward. Her gaze shifted back towards the window, as she focused on the Adonis now before her. All the past thoughts fled her now transfixed mind.

As he moved gracefully into his room, a coal colored towel was slung low upon his slender hips. Strong hands worked at the water from his locks as, which to her disappointment, the fabric continued to shield his features. After several moments of Buffy willing the towel to fall, as if the gods heard her plea, it finally did. Unfortunately, not the lucky towel that housed his impressive ‘assets’, but the one that encased his head. Her breath caught in her throat as his exquisite features were finally revealed.

He was a fallen angel, with a body made for pure sin. His hair was shocking platinum. Obviously bleached, due to the contrast of the dark thatch of curls that surrounded his impressive cock. Regardless, it appeared to suit him. Sculpted cheekbones were housed under his alabaster skin. Any woman would be envious of his bone structure. Lips full and begging to be sampled.

Due to the distance, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes. No matter. Her stare remained transfixed as she drank in his sublime form. As he turned to walk towards his obsidian-sheeted bed, he pulled the terry cloth from his slender hips. The last vision that filled her sight was his tantalizing backside, as he leisurely sauntered towards his bed. As the light extinguished, Buffy’s lust-filled mind slowly began to clear.

For several moments, Buffy’s stare remained fixed upon the darkened room. She waited for the room to fill with light again and the visions of this earth bound Greek mythical creature to make another appearance. Numerous beats passed -nothing. With a defeated sigh, she slowly closed her curtains.

As she walked toward her empty bed, Buffy gave a final look over her shoulder, as she then pulled her inflamed body under the cool, quilted sheets. Buffy laid upon the welcoming pillow willing her mind to clear and her body to calm. Sleep evaded her for several hours, as the cravings for peace did nothing to soothe her body or mind.

The daylight hours were only bits of time between the stolen moments of her indulgence. Over the next several days, Buffy muddled through the day by unpacking and spending time with her roommates. The evenings were devoted to him. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, her desire would ignite; skin would buzz, mind swirl with memories and the butterflies in her stomach would take flight with anticipation.

Each night Buffy would become more brazened. She would leave the security of the darkness and approach the transparent panes of glass separating them. Last night she’d needed to clear the panes as the heat from her breath fogged the glass. Her eyes remained transfixed upon his muscular form.

Then came Saturday night. Buffy looked forward to her usual evening of I Spy naked goodness, until she was ambushed by her roommates whom insisted she had spent far too many nights in her room alone. She just had to come to this new bar down the street. Despite her protests, an hour later she was ushered out of her room and hurried down the snowy streets of Boston.

Tonight was like any other bar night; insane taxi drivers, skillful avoidance of vomit and teetering girls on obscenely high heels, that no one should wear on the icy and snow filled cobblestone streets. That was outside the bar. Inside, one needed to avoid the shoves and strong ‘brush bys’ of chattering, high haired chicks, that were oblivious to anyone that didn’t possess a Y chromosome. In addition, the men that assumed that since you entered the bar, you were fair game to their ‘unintentional’ gropes, leers, and cheesy pick-up lines.

Buffy nursed her second Captain and coke as she leaned against the brick wall. Flanked on either side by her roommates. Both using the dials on a clock to announce where a ‘yummy piece of ass’ was located. As they spoke, Buffy nodded her head and with a few strategic ‘mmhms’ as she tried to appear interested. Despite the somewhat attractive men that milled about, her mind, more specifically her body, craved another. Him

As the night dragged on, Buffy's eyes held a silent vigil upon the clock. Uneasiness filled her when her time with him, came and passed. Disappointment marred her features for the rest of the evening until the lights came on and all the partygoers were ushered out, with the bellows of the bouncers. “Closing Time…..you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Upon their departure, they were mashed among the throngs of people leaving. Once they could break free, Buffy was able to flag down a taxi. While her arm waved in the cold January air, Willow said a lengthy goodbye to a man she had met at the bar. Anya had left with Xander two hours before.

With booze and lust that surged through her veins, Willow didn’t notice the quietness that filled the cab on the ride home. Once the ladies entered into the silent apartment, Buffy bid her a quick goodnight and headed to her room.

1:38 a.m. the greenish hue, from the clock announced the time. With a heavy sigh that tumbled from her lips, Buffy made her way over to her bed. As she started to disrobe, she noticed a dim light that spilled across her bedroom floor.

Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried toward her window. There across the way, was her fascination. After the second night, Buffy felt compelled to label these nightly liaisons as such. There was no other title that was fitting.

Basking in the heavenly image, Buffy stood transfixed at the sight before her. The man of her countless dreams laid upon his bed, naked, as the day he was born. His flawless, alabaster lower half sprawled across the onyx sheets. His muscular back supported his upper section, as he leaned against ebony pillows braced against the wall. The length of his throat was exposed as his head was thrown to the side, in passion, as his fist slowly worked at the length of his steel encased flesh.

His lips were parted as he bestowed pleasure upon himself. His grasp worked in semi-circular motions as it ascended and descended his cock. After several leisurely movements, his pace increased as his jaw clenched with his impending climax. His chest rose and fell with quickened pants, as ecstasy filled his features. Buffy’s breaths mirrored his, as arousal filled her completely.

After several moments, yet again, his pace increased as his head lolled forward as he continued to tantalize his flesh with feverish pulls. With two more tugs, a silent yell escaped his parted lips as his cock spewed forward his seed. His movements slowed as the belled head sustained its fusillade of salty fluid. Buffy felt her womb clench as her own climax rushed forward and dampened her panties.

Buffy’s breaths echoed his, as the residuals of her overwhelming peak radiated across her flesh. Upon shaky legs, her body shifted backward several paces, until the back of her legs met with the mattress. In a boneless heap, she fell upon her bed as she enjoyed the aftermath of her orgasm.

This was her first orgasm. Either due to her trepidation towards sex or the lack of skill on the part of her lovers, she had never experienced this remarkable flood of pleasure before. Only once before, she believed that she had reached this pinnacle of ecstasy.

One instance, Buffy had felt a slight tingle within the walls of her womb, following a ten-minute period of time, that Angel had fumbled between her thighs. As he slobbered on her nether regions, he once or twice struck her sensitive distended nub. Clearly done accidentally, she became quickly exasperated and was filled with utter disappointment. Buffy then had to fake her climax. Quickly to remove his mouth from her core. Angel being who he was never noticed. The small pulses of what she had experienced then, was a mere shadow of tonight.

Without hands, mouth, nor cock, Buffy reached her climax based on pure sight alone. The visions of him pleasuring himself had brought her to the cusp of bliss, and shoved her over, headfirst. After tonight, there was no going back. He had awakened her sleeping libido, and she craved more.

Once a fascination had morphed into obsession, with one powerful and beautiful act.