Shayden's Tower

At the sixtieth floor they began to urge each other on with expressions of impending orgasm and wanton lust. "Fuck me, fuck me!" Meg gasped over and over, driving Grant insane with desire.

"You're an expert," he breathed into her ear. "You've got more raw sex than Bill Gates has cash."

Meg giggled.

"Cum in me. I want a quart of you. I want to save you in me. Turn on the tap, Grant! Squirt! Squirt! Fill me up!"

He pinned her arms back against the glass, and moved in so close to her they could have been sardines in a can. His buttocks were like balancing weights, bouncing back and forth in rapid jerks. Slap, slap, slap punctuated their groans as their bellies smacked together. Megan watched as the surrounding rooftops opened to view, even as her passion grew ever closer to its ultimate physical blossom.

Grant could see they were nearing the end of their flight, but this time he had no fears of arriving at the penthouse too soon. His jim-crow was alive with sensitive impulses, sending hundreds of tiny electrical charges to every nerve ending in his body. The message was getting through to his brain: he would cum, and very soon.

"Getting there," he divulged.

"Harder, harder," she responded.

Summoning every ounce of strength he could muster, Grant slammed himself home with almost brutal force.

"Oh! oh, oh," she squealed as his driver punched through her meaty curtains like a pulsating rocket. A first surge ran through her, dissipating quickly, then building again just as fast.

"Cumming," they both said, and repeated the word over and over, with increasing anxiousness, sometimes saying it at exactly the same time. Six floors from the penthouse the word changed into apelike screams of delight. Seconds later both felt their crotches explode.

Megan was fighting for air. Grant's knees had gone weak, he had to struggle to stay afoot well enough to make four last thrusts, emptying himself into her completely. The lift was slowing. His erection was fading. Megan slid off the wet railing, but landed on legs too shaky to hold her. She collapsed in a heap on the floor, and got an immediate fit of the giggles. Grant reeled backwards, trying to scoop up his shell suit on the way, but failing in the attempt. Their glass carriage was stopping.

"Oh, my God!" Meg blurted through her laughter. The sudden concern on Grant's face made her giggle even more. Tears of uncontrollable joy were flooding from her.

The doors opened. The same gay doorman took one glance, bit his upper lip, and twirled on his heel to face the opposite direction. Megan's giggles turned to guffaws. She grabbed her shift, scrambled to her feet and dashed naked out of the gondola, her hysterical laughter still echoing back to them after she had vanished into the lady's room.

The doorman turned back to face Grant, smirking like a performer receiving a standing ovation. Grant was fumbling into his shell suit, and having trouble because his wet skin was sticking to the thin nylon fabric.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, "it wasn't right the first time."

The doorman's eyes were fixed on Grant's shriveled, floppy member.

"You did better this time, it seems."

Blushing like a naked virgin, Grant forced his legs and arms into the nylon suit and zipped up as quickly as possible. The doorman sighed. Grant found his wallet and pressed four twenties into the man's waiting palm.

"Boys will be boys; girls too I suppose, although I really wouldn't know. Shall we prepare your usual table for brunch? Tall pina coladas wasn't it, with lots of ice?"

***

It was some time before they could speak. They sat at the secluded table, trying not to catch each other's glances, because they both disintegrated into laughter every time their eyes met. Eventually Megan managed to start the debriefing.

"Your poor face; you were mortified."

"At least I didn't run away."

"The man is obviously gay. He wasn't going to be interested in me, was he?"

Grant shrugged and chuckled. "Well, he got his jollies, and eighty bucks to boot."

Megan considered the figure for a moment.

"Was I worth it?"

"Ten times that," he said, then placed his drink down, leaned toward her and folded his arms on the table. "And one more thing: I haven't forgotten it was your sensual flair and imagination that came up with this wonderful idea. But I hope it didn't escape your own notice, that it took someone else's command of territory to make it work, even if we did cross our natural boundary a little at the top floor."

Meg studied her drink for a few moments, stirred it with a swizzle-stick, then grinned and raised her glass to him in a silent toast of agreement.