by Alexis Angel
It worked, too.
Almost.
Christ, the way I fucking held my breath as I watched her in the hallway through my peephole, praying that she’d get the fucking courage to knock on my door…
It’s not that I don’t get plenty of pussy outside of this little experiment in exhibitionism. With the way the magazines keep voting me as the Sexiest Man of the Year, I have so many offers to fuck, that frankly, it feels a little unfair to the other actors out there.
But the babe in the Bradford…
She’s something else.
Something special.
Because as much as she watches me…
I get to watch her right back.
Poor thing probably doesn’t even know it, either.
I stroke my big, thick cock for her there in the window, clenching my shaft tight in my fist. I’m telling myself that it’s fine, the way I look at her through my blinds.
She’s watching me. I’m watching her.
Two way transaction. Mutual benefits.
And if she didn’t want to be watched, I figure she’d probably either close her curtains or put on more clothes, for fuck’s sake. But it’s the darkest part of me—the part that thinks she might not realize at all—that takes over as I stroke my cock for her.
That’s the thought that makes me come.
I blow my load all over my fucking window. It’s a lot—creamy and thick and enough to fill three shot glasses, if anyone was so inclined. Shit, I bet the babe at the Bradford is inclined.
Especially with the way she presses her palm against her own window when I jizz for her. She fucking wants me. And I fucking want her.
But for that to happen…I need her to come to me.
To me, and then for me.
Over and over and over again.
Three
Quinn
I need to get out of my fucking apartment—and fast.
The biggest problem I’ve found with my post-CEO life is time. Too much of it and not enough to do with it all. If I had a husband or a family, it wouldn’t be an issue.
But I don’t. I just have The Dick across the street at the Birmingham and way too much time to obsess over it.
Sure, I go to the gym. I work out until I’m exhausted, thinking maybe I’ll be too worn out to touch myself while I watch it when I get home.
I think about how, maybe this time, I’ll go home and watch television like a normal person instead. Doesn’t even have to be anything high brow. Home Shopping Network or one of those shows about one of those families with shitload of kids.
I think about watching a Felix Fitzgerald movie, maybe. Not one of his good ones—no, I’ll put on one of those trashy action movies the studios love booking him on. Eighty minutes of explosions, quips, catchphrases and leggy blondes swooning over his bulging pecs—and it always is leggy blondes, even though I think he’d look a lot better with a petite brunette.
For no particular reason except that’s what I am, of course.
That was the plan earlier.
Fat load of good that did me.
No, instead I’m looking at a load of a different kind.
The cum drips deliciously down the window pane, and I press my hand up against the glass so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I don’t want to just touch the window with my hand, though. No, what my entire body is telling me to do is lean forward and lick my own window with my fucking tongue.
Actually—scratch that. What I really want to do is march over there, kick down the door to his apartment, and lick the cum off of his window. Not that I’m going to, though.
At least, as long as I can still talk myself out of it in the next ten seconds, I won’t.
Jesus. It’s too fucking much, this obsession thing. I want him.
Or, I guess, I want his dick.
It isn’t easy, but I tear myself away from the window anyway. It’s either leave the room or go insane. So I leave the room.
I pace in the kitchen for a few minutes just to clear my head. I pay my bills.
And it takes me five whole minutes of reading my electric bill to realize that it’s addressed to the wrong fucking person entirely.
Normally, shit like this would annoy me. But actually, I’m looking at this as an incredible and much-needed opportunity to leave my apartment and get the dick at the Birmingham out of my head for a few minutes.
I check the name on the front of the envelope—Emilia Adams. According to her address, she lives here in the Bradford just a floor above me. Mailman probably put it in my mailbox by accident.
Perfect.
I’m thanking my lucky stars for Emilia Adams as I approach the elevator. I’m thinking that maybe Emilia Adams and I could even be friends. We’ll joke about what a silly mistake I made in opening her electric bill by accident. We’ll go for coffee.
I’ll talk to another human being for, like, half an hour or so, and by that time, the dick at the Birmingham will have gone off to do whatever things it does when it’s not splooging all over the window across the street.
And even if Emilia Adams and I don’t hit it off, immediately becoming BFFs or whatever…at least it’ll get my mind off sex for a few minutes.
Or so I think.
When I knock on Emilia Adams’ apartment door, it gently swings open. Looks like Emilia Adams forgot to close it. But her front door isn’t the only thing she has open.
“Come on then, Daddy. Put it in my mouth,” I hear her cooing in one of tones that we women generally reserve for the bedroom…
Even though the clothes on the floor look like they’re trailing into the kitchen.
“You want it in your mouth, baby girl?” a male voice replies.
All the color immediately drains from my face.
“Oh, god yes! Give it to me, Evan! YES! YES!”
I swallow hard. This isn’t the break from voyeurism that I thought it would be.
Well, shit.
I place Emilia Adams’ electric bill on the floor, close the door and high tail it out of there.
Christ.
I run my fingers through my hair as I take the elevator back down to my apartment. This is fucking ridiculous—it’s like sex is happening in the city all around me, to the point where I can’t even avoid it.
All it does is emphasize my real problem here: everyone else in this building is fucking.
Getting laid. Falling into bed with each other and falling in love.
And here I’ve been this entire time, ogling the dick in the window of the Birmingham across the street—obsessing over something that I’ll never fucking have because I don’t have the guts to march over there and take it.
I consider taking the elevator up to the Bradford’s lounge instead.
I mean, if everyone else in this building is fucking, then that’s probably the place to meet the man of your dreams, right? But then I remember the dick in the Birmingham, and I’m reminded how it’s ruined other dicks for me.
A jolt of fear shoots through me.
If I don’t have the dick in the Birmingham, I might never be able to feel pleasure for a man ever again.
So here’s what I’m thinking—I’m thinking I’ll go back into my apartment, close the drapes over my bedroom windows and pop on that Felix Fitzgerald movie like I planned. Sure, there’s going to be an obligatory sex scene between him and whatever blonde bimbo is playing opposite of him, but fucking Felix Fitzgerald is one of those fantasies that I can cope with right now.
Fantasizing about the dick at the Bradford is one thing. The dick at the Bradford feels oddly obtainable—I mean, it’s just across the street.
Felix Fitzgerald, at least, is more unobtainable. He’s a movie star.
Pure fantasy with no chance of ever becoming a reality.
After all, it’s not like Felix Fitzgerald is about to show up at my front door.
Four
Felix
She leaves her window immediately after I cum all over mine.
&n
bsp; Fuck.
That’s not what I wanted to happen. That’s not what I wanted her to do at all.
What I wanted her to do was to give up the fucking charade.
I want her. She wants me. I came all over my fucking window for her!
How much clearer of a love letter can I send?
Other than literally coming into an envelope and mailing it to her with my apartment key enclosed, of course. Which, I’m not even ruling out at this point.
Fuck!
This is the opposite of what I wanted. Apparently, coming all over your window for a woman isn’t exactly the way to her heart—and my fucking housekeeper is going to hate me now, too.
The worst part is, I’m not even spent yet. I left a substantial load smeared across the antique panes of glass for the babe in the Bradford, but it’s nothing compared to the load I’ve got left in my balls for her.
I’m horny.
I’m hot.
And remembering the look on her gorgeous face while she watched me come…
That just makes me hard all over again.
I need her. Her, and no one else.
They say actors are just spoiled assholes who need an audience, and in this case, maybe that’s even true. The babe in the Bradford is my audience. And now, I might’ve lost her for good.
I need to think fast—so I do.
Actors aren’t the dumb bastards the media likes to portray us to be.
We’re smart fuckers when we need to be—maybe not book smart, but people smart.
We like to be seen, but we’re also keen observers in our own right.
We’re the mirror that society holds up to itself, reflecting the emotions of the world back at it with a lens flare and a crescendo-ing soundtrack. So when the babe at the Bradford watches me come, I recognize the look on her face.
Fear.
I restrain my cock with the fly of my jeans, slip on some shoes, and grab my keys. I already know her apartment number. I’ve counted the floors up and the windows over.
Now, it’s just a matter of getting there in time.
But when I come to her door and knock, she doesn’t fucking answer.
Shit.
This is on me—I shouldn’t have pushed her. What we had was fucking special, alright? And now I know for a fact that I’ve gone and fucking blown it.
Literally.
But then, I hear a tiny, sexy gasp and the jingle of keys falling to the floor.
“Felix Fitzgerald.”
The most perfect set of lips I’ve ever seen mouths my name from behind me as I turn to greet her with a smile.
“Always good to meet a fan,” I say, smooth as can fucking be.
Then I do the only thing that seems right in the moment.
I unzip my fly and unleash the fucking beast.
“No,” she gasps when she sees my cock. Her pretty little hand presses against her left breast, just over her heart, and her mouth falls open in a blowjob-ready little O.
“Yes,” I tell her. Perfect fucking reaction. “Now, are you gonna get on your knees and suck it already, or am I gonna have to make you?”
It takes an entire second. The longest second that’s ever existed in the history of time.
First, my heart sinks. A flash of hesitation crosses her eyes.
She’s going to say no.
Then, my heart rises like the sun over the New York skyline.
And my cock gets even fucking harder.
She launches herself at me, and my cock is down her tight, hot throat before she can even get out that single, perfect fucking word.
Yes.
I toss my head back, letting my shoulders rest against her door.
This. This is what I’ve fucking wanted. This is what I’ve been posing in front of my window with a stiffy and a disregard for pants all this time for.
It wasn’t the thrill of being seen, as it turns out. It wasn’t even the joy of brainwashing her pretty little head with my perfect fucking cock. It was knowing that someday, her mouth would me mine.
Her mouth…and more.
She sucks me off like she was born for it. Maybe she fucking was. I don’t know what the babe at the Bradford does when she’s not staring at my cock, but I know damn well what her mouth was made for.
Pleasure. Pure and simple.
I’m a handsome man, and she’s a fine-ass woman.
Simplest fucking dynamic in the world.
“God,” I moan, feeling the warmth of her throat clenching around my twelve-inch dick. “Your name, beautiful. Tell me your fucking name.”
She squeezes me out of her throat, a glistening rope of saliva and precum connecting my tip to her lips. It’s like now that we’ve finally come together, our bodies can’t bear to be apart for a single fucking moment.
“Quinn,” she tells me, and my cock fucking throbs in response.
The babe at the Bradford.
Quinn.
“Invite me in,” I command.
I run my thumb across her lower lip, separating my cock from her lips…for now. She sucks my thumb into her mouth instead, and I nearly cum all over her face then and there.
“Invite me in,” I say again. “I want to see what else this sexy fucking body of yours can do.”
Five
Quinn
“I’ve been watching you,” Felix fucking Fitzgerald snarls against my lips.
I nearly laugh.
Felix fucking Fitzgerald has been watching me?
I’ve been watching him. His dumb action movies. A few of his dramas, even.
I even have tickets with a few of my girlfriends to see his Broadway play next month.
And apparently, I haven’t just been watching him professionally, either.
As he pushes me back onto my couch, that much becomes readily apparent once again.
The dick at the Birmingham.
I could recognize that bad boy with my eyes closed.
But if you would have told me that the dick at the Birmingham belonged to Felix fucking Fitzgerald…
Yeah, no. I would have laughed in your fucking face.
He moves over to me, stepping out of his jeans. He lost his shirt at some point in the make-out session that ensued in the time it took us to get to my living room from my front door.
His cock—his gorgeous, perfect dick—is clenched in his fist. It looks harder than ever, and it’s looking right at me.
I know what comes next.
The screaming.
The thrusting.
The moaning of each other’s names while he presses his manhood between the dewy, delicate petals of my musky flower.
All that bullshit.
Instead, he says it again:
“I’ve been watching you for way too fucking long, babe.” And then: “Show me that ass.”
I do it, too. I don’t even think twice. Thinking twice is for people who don’t know what the fuck they want, and I know exactly what’s on my wish list right now: him.
“God,” Felix purrs as I position myself on the couch, doggy-style. He grabs the meat of my ass and spreads my cheeks, which makes me damn glad that I’ve been hitting the gym lately. “What a perfect fucking ass.”
I could tell him the same about his frankly, but I don’t. That’s the thing about fucking a movie star, I’m quickly discovering. They always seem to know their next line.
And me? I’m pretty sure if I talk to him right now, I’d be going off script.
“I’ve been dreaming about this ass of yours, Quinn.” He smacks it like it’s done him wrong, and while I don’t have anything to say about that revelation either, I do manage to moan for him. “Do you have any idea how fucking hard this ass makes me?”
I don’t, actually—not until he shows me. Felix positions himself behind me on the couch and presses his cock against my ass.
He’s so fucking hard.
A diamond would fucking tremble.
I hiss as he presses the tip against the tight pucker of my ass.
I want it. I want it bad. He’s huge and hard and thick and throbbing, and I don’t even care.
I’m going to let Felix fucking Fitzgerald do whatever he wants with me.
Anal included.
Anal with Felix fucking Fitzgerald?
You bet your ass I will.
But just before he takes me…he stops, grabs me by the throat from behind and presses a wet kiss against my ear.
“No,” he growls. “Not here.”
And that’s how I end up naked against my bedroom window with Felix Fitzgerald’s dick in my ass.
He gives it to me nice and slow at first, holding my waist with one hand and his cock with the other. He feeds it to me inch by inch while my nipples press against the window pane and my every breath comes more ragged than the last.
“Goddamn,” he grunts. “So this is what it looks like for you, huh?”
“Mmmmm,” I say back, because that’s how far I’ve gotten to actually talking to this dude so far.
“Look at you, you fucking tart. Is this where you’ve been watching me from, Quinn? I know you’ve been looking…Christ, you’ve been staring at my dick for the better part of a year now. Did you think you were going to get all of that for free?”
He rams into me. We’re not doing the nice and easy thing anymore.
He’s going mean and hard and—fuck.
I like that even better.
“I’ve seen the way you looked at me, Quinn. Like a dirty fucking slut who needs to be taught a lesson. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?”
I blink twice then gasp as Felix’s palm connects with my ass again. He thrusts his cock a little deeper, and the moment that his slap reverberates against my skin, I clench up and pull him deeper.
“That’s it. Good slut. Good whore.”
His hand smooths down my back now, making me shiver. Behind me, his hips are finding a rhythm as he eases the last few inches inside me.
It feels fucking amazing.
It feels like flying and falling and orgasming all at once.
And when he finally gets himself all the way into my ass? Balls fucking deep?