A View from Above

As an author, I have always been interested in fantasies. These fantasies can crop up anywhere, anyplace, anytime. One of my stories emerged from a one-night stand with a man I barely knew, another from an erotic chat session with a man with a deep, dark dominating streak. But the idea for this story emerged from the recesses of my mind during an extremely uncomfortable bus journey to my college. Staring out of a window, I found my wicked imagination running wild, and realized my panties were wet with the wickedness of my erotic thoughts. Shifting carefully, I stretched my delicate, cloth-covered ass over a particularly lumpy area of the unkempt bus-seat, and as my crotch received a rhythmic rubbing from the rather lumpy fabric of the seat, I sat back and dreamed of an exotic location, and an even more exotic encounter.

That night, I slept very well, indeed.

* * *

Jack

It was a warm, humid month of May in India. I felt the hot summer all the way to the core, as I got down from the air-conditioned taxi and moved through the foyer into the large hotel. Nina followed me, minute lines of distrust flitting across her face. At thirty-four, she was the epitome of repressed sexuality, and on this trip to India, the land of Kama Sutra and miracles, I intended to break that. We have been married the past eight years, and for me, it had been a disappointing experience, because Nina has a problem with experimenting with sex. The only position she does her "duty" is in the missionary style, and well, the same thing can get boring if you do so again and again. Her no-no to oral, anal, or even masturbation is a source of constant frustration for me. I like to experiment all the time.

If you ask me why I do what I do, I can only say, there are lots of women who are not averse to sex, and some even gets turned on at the thought of being the "other woman". In short, I have fooled around, but the last affair that I had ended before I made this journey to India.

I am, therefore, a free man.

Oh, do not think I don't love my wife, because I do. The only thing is that... she is my friend, and a good woman. But in truth, I would have liked her if she was not so good. Honest! She will be my love for the rest of my life, but I will need something more from her.

We checked in and Nina made a beeline for the bathroom as we entered our suite. I know what she will do there... she will methodically wash every inch of her pristine body, as she does with clean precision after every time I make love to her. Once I suggested sharing a shower, to which, her outraged reply was... " God, Samuel! Don't be a pervert!!"

It may be her catholic background, or it may be something else, but whatever it was, I hated it. It is the only thing that I really hate about her. Imagine, being a Virgin in America at twenty-six!!! I did not believe it either! But it is true. She was a virgin till I had sex with her, and maybe that was what pushed me to marry her, otherwise, I could not imagine myself married at twenty-nine.

But then again, here I am, married and looking.

She came out of the bathroom, looking flushed and pristine pure in her virginal white cotton gown that dated (I'm guessing here) at least to the nineteenth century. I had to admit, she looked very appealing in a schoolgirl, never been kissed, just waiting for a sugar-daddy kind of a way. And as I thought on, I had a very male wish to remove that cotton monstrosity out of my way and fuck her then and there, but I knew, it was not to happen. Somehow, I do not know why, but I was afraid to use force on her while having sex, always making sure that while having sex, my hands were never cruelly tight on hers, my lips never mercilessly bore down on her defenseless ones...

All this thinking was making me horny. Where have these thoughts come from after so many years of practiced control? Perhaps India was making me lose it... the warm, humid climate making me stiff and uncomfortable.

I saw that this discomfort of mine had not gone unnoticed. And as usual, she was averting her face in shy modesty.

The hypocrisy almost killed me. Bitch! As if she hasn't seen a hard-on in her entire oh-so-pure married life! I felt my blood pressure rise in anger.

Shaken by my own attitude, I shook my head. What was happening to me? I, the forever rational, cool, under-control guy, who has experienced this shit from God knows how long, was acting this way.

Well, the only way was to cool off! I headed for the bathroom.

And as I entered the lavish bathroom and looked around, something caught my eye.

Before coming to India, my friends had warned me against thieves lurking around the hotels. Maybe that was what pulled me to the small window, was it...?

As I peered out of the window and looked below, I saw the reason for my discomfit. Nothing really. The streetlight was falling on an electric wire and illuminating it. Smiling to myself, I turned back, nodding my head in mingled exasperation and admonish. Really, the old age was catching on to me.

Disinterested, my eyes scanned slowly the scene that was there... nothing very exciting there, just the street, and some people moving about. But what was ... was it? ... Yes!! Yes it was!

My gaze fixed on a three-storey building that was positioned a bit awkwardly, so that not many could see the window that my eyes were on. Since my building was higher than theirs, I could get a perfect view of what was going on.

A girl... no more than twenty, or maybe even less, was spread-eagled on a bed. It seemed, she was not tied, not bound to the bed, but she spread her legs in a most decadent fashion. She was wearing a white bra, but nothing else. I could clearly see the dark body that leant on the heavier side, her pink cunt in sharp contrast with the black hair that surrounded it. I could, in my lust, almost see her glistening moisture that ran down and pooled below her on the small bed.

It looked like she was waiting for someone.

Very soon my question was answered. A man came, appearing to be no more than thirty. The first thing I noticed about him was the colour of his skin. Indian skin is generally dark, but this man's body was as if carved out of black marble and as if oiled till his muscles gleamed like they weren't really on mortal body, but a splendidly curved figure of art.

Readers, I generally do not get turned on by seeing other men, but knowing that this man was going to fuck that lovely little girl really put my meat up! I got even more turned on as I saw the man's cock. Darker ( if possible ) than the rest of the man, it was, even from far above, a sight to behold. The man cupped it in both his hands, and I saw that the cock really could not be circled by one hand; he had to use both his hands to hold that monster of his. From a distance I judged it to be a nine-incher at least, with a very impressive girth.

The man did not immediately touch the girl. He, rather, looked at her for a long time, and then, began to stroke himself. The girl shifted her hips and held out her hands to him, but he seemed to ignore her call. He continued to circle her, looking at her as if she was a precious treasure that he has found after long days of search.

My lips curled into a smile when, on an impatient demand from the girl, the man lightly smacked her cheek, and went back to circle her. I could feel my stiff cock ache as she was denied once again, this time the slap's force snapping her head back. I could see anger in her eyes as she slowly sat up on the bed and said something to the man. The man merely laughed, and the next instant, he was pushing her back on the bed with a rough shove.

The girl retaliated this time. She sprang back, and the next moment I saw her dig and scratch his chest with her fingernails. No longer smiling, the man bore her down onto the bed, holding her flaying wrists his hands, stopping every movement from her legs by flinging his own over hers.

Now he lowered his lips to the bra that she was wearing. He did not open it. He bit her through the bra, her harsh cry coming to my ears. Now that the night was setting in, all was getting quiet on the streets, noise really carried far, and I could hear any sound that was made a bit loud from there. My fingers stroked my cock up and down as I saw the man do the same to her other tit. This time he was even worse than before... the whimper that reached my excited ear was one of real pain.

He was parting her legs now, one of his hands capturing both her wrists; the other was guiding his cock to her heated core. I could see her gasping as the cock head push in. She screamed again as with a brutal shove with his hips, the man pushed more than half his cock into her waiting maw. His mouth went to her ear, and pulled the tiny ear lobe with his teeth. The effect, I could see, was one of response, as the girl's ass moved up to let more and more of his prick in her. She clenched her teeth as he pushed down, moving in on the last few inches.

They were fucking now; her legs were locked around his ass, his fingers still holding her wrists. His other hand was cupping her breast, and his mouth was locked on her throat, occasionally when he lifted his face, I could see he was biting her in the frenzy of passion, not soft love bites, but rough, hard bites that showed her who was the man.

My cock was about to cum. I could see that the girl was about to cum too. Her screams were getting louder and harsher as she approached it.

And as she was reaching it, I saw his marauding hand go under her, and lift her up. She was thrashing madly as he shoved two of his fingers up her tiny asshole.

A kind of a wail escaped the girl's mouth as she screamed her orgasm. And as she did, he released her wrists and caught her throat. Her arms wrapped around him and she dug and raked her nails down his back in fierce abandon. And she gasped for breath as she shuddered one last time and collapsed.

Immediately it seemed that he began to cum too. He let go of her throat and pushed in her one last time as he shuddered too, and then collapsed on top of her.

I realized that I have still not cum. The whole situation had had me gripped with a certain need, a certain force to assert myself, to show her who is the boss. And a slow anger burned inside me as I thought of the woman who slept in my bedroom wearing that Victorian monstrosity of hers.

Slowly, I opened the bathroom door, naked and aroused. My body throbbed as it saw and reckoned the woman sleeping there. Suddenly, I could hold back no more. My base instincts told me to do it.

So I did.

* * *

Nina

I awoke at someone stroking my ankles with gentle fingers. As consciousness dawned, I felt that the fingers were actually a tongue. Horrified, I sat up on the bed, my mind immediately recalling where I was and with whom.

The truth is, I am a submissive woman. I realized that long ago when my friend's father used to spank me in my ass and touch me with his fingers. I loved obeying his commands. And the best thing was, he did not like my pussy. He wanted my mouth to fuck. But one day my mother saw it and told me never to go to their house. She said, that only bad girls do such things and it was really wrong and dirty of me to do this.

I obeyed. And my marriage to Jack had been like that. He had never screwed me in any position but the conventional. I hadn't let him, because I had been too scared that he might see how dirty I really am, how whorish, how sluttish. I never showed him, how, after the times he had filled my pussy with his hot cum, have I been to the bathroom and stroked out every drop of that nectar and savoured it. I love eating cum... of men and women. My best friend Peggy sometimes come over and we make out. She is a bit of a domina, and she loves making me humiliate myself, spanking me with a wooden spoon or a paddle that ends up shoved inside my cunt. I love that feeling... love it... love it...

But Jack... he is different. With the others I can easily be a slut, bacause I do'nt care for them at all. But he's different. We're married. Married people don't do these sort of things. I know I sound a horrible prude, but it is the way I was brought up. Man and wife are clean, not a whore like me, and once he realises what exactly I am, he won't respect me anymore, won't see me in the same light as he does now.

Oh shit, Jack. And he is horny. Switch to housewife role...

"No darling... not tonight... I-I don't...."

I could not finish my sentence as the bed sheet was snatched away from my clutches. I gulped. He was in a mood, a mood that I knew too well...

He was the Dominant Male!

He never removed his eyes from mine. His teeth gritted in violent passion.

"Not tonight... not any night... NOT EVERY NIGHT!" The last words He screamed out and lunged for me. I tried desperately to escape, but He caught me by my long gown as he dragged me back, kicking and flailing my arms hopelessly. I tried to scratch his face but he caught my fingers and knelt over me, and I saw that he was naked.

My nightgown was bunched somewhere around my thighs. As I started to scream, I felt something rip, and then a part of my own nightgown was being stuffed into my mouth. My fingers clenched helplessly as I felt moisture building inside me, ready to flow down my thighs. He reached for my face, but instead of cupping it, he pushed his fingers in my hair and tugged hard.

"I'll release your wrists now, but disobey me bitch, and I'll give you something to scream about."

I nodded my head and he let go of my wrists. They hurt from being stretched out for too long. I felt his body slide over me, and gently, he pushed the nightgown till it was somewhere around my waist. He turned me gently, and then pulled me up to kneel in front of him, my back to him.

He murmured something I couldn't really catch and the next moment, I was being bent down roughly by my hair, my ass pointing up to his waiting cock. His voice was clear to me now as his fingers sought my pussy.

"Yes, my dear, I can see you are quite turned on now. I'll fuck that hole of yours dear, and also this little rosebud that winks at me so preciously. And all the time, I'll make you cum."

His last words were accompanied with a thrust that had the strength of a rutting bull, as he stretched my dripping hole with a single push. He pushed in and out a couple of times, and then he came out of me.

What was wrong? I could not lift my face up because of his cruelly dominating hand, but no sooner than I have thought this, I could feel him puckering at my tiny asshole.

To tell the truth, I have taken in things up my ass, but never a real, live cock before. Naturally, I screamed, that got muffled as he suddenly pushed my face down, grinding my face in the soft pillows. I could not breathe, I felt the rough jerks that his cock gave as my asshole tore and gave. I could feel the sting of my own torn skin mixing with the pussy juice that coated his cock. My ass was on fire, and was mercilessly raped by my husband, who had never done this to me before. I was screaming into the pillows, his fingers alternately tugging on my hair and pushing me further into the soft cushions with his weight.

And when I thought I could bear no more, suddenly I felt a hand stroking my poor clit that was begging for attention. I gave a soft moan, and felt his vicious jerks increase, as he rubbed my aching knot. If my ass was on fire, my cunt was in heaven, and I loved this mingling of pleasure-pain, simply loving it.

Suddenly, I could feel myself tensing. His fingers were rough on my clit now, and suddenly, they bit down as his fingers clenched and pulled me back on his cock, penetrating me deeply as his hand clenched in my hair and tug them till my throat arched onto his shoulder. He buried his face in the place where my throat met my shoulder and bit down, as I felt his seed flooding my insides.

I was screaming as he came, and then he and I both slumped down on all fours, on the bed.

A long time later, he opened his eyes.

"I love you."

And I knew he did.