We currently have stories with more being added every day

Room with a View

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 29 Jun 2003 0 comments
0 likes views Category: Tags:

Room with a View by WavesongI have the feeling that most of the sexual encounter stories I see are fantasies. Well, this one really happened, almost exactly as described. The day our band played a New England college folk festival, I was shown to a top-floor room overlooking the courtyard in a new dormitory complex. All the rooms had floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto narrow Julliette balconies and a perfect spring afternoon. I spent a couple of hours rehearsing some new songs. When I eventually looked outside, lights were flicking on in neighboring windows, and I realized with a surge of excitement that I was seeing panorama of women's dormitory rooms. A few curtains were pulled, but most were partially or completely open. Looking closer, I caught sight of a pretty redhead wearing nothing but a black thong and applying makeup. She had freckles on her creamy breasts and puffy pink areolas. Nearby, a serious looking girl with short blond hair and wire rim glasses briefly crossed my line of sight wearing a plain white bra and what looked to be white cotton panties. In another room, a pair of naked legs stretched across a bed from beneath the hem of a terry cloth robe. Their owner was propped against her pillow studying a book in the warm glow of a reading lamp, hand resting on her thigh. I was starting to fantasize about this situation when directly across from me, an overhead light blinked on and a nubile-looking teen in jeans, t-shirt and backpack entered her room. She must have been 18 or 19, but had a way of moving that seemed even younger. She tossed her backpack on the bed and twirled across the floor as if it were a stage, braless breasts swaying freely beneath her sleveless t-shirt. She paused before the mirror, cocked her hips and rolled them in a sexually suggestive move while her eyes seemed to examine her body, coming to rest on the little dark triangle in the front of her jeans. By now I was rock hard and not believing my incredible good luck. There was something in her not so subtle body language that announced this girl had masturbation on her mind. My pulse raced as her hand slid across the front of her jeans and her fingers began to toy with the top button. My own fingers began to mimic hers. I was certain she was about to strip naked and masturbate not more than 30 feet from where I sat. But it wasn't to be. Instead of a mind-shattering orgasm, I heard a mood-shattering pounding on my door. "Kenny, are you in there?" cried Doreen, our earth-mother band manager. "Everyone's on the bus waiting. Are you OK, Kenny?" "Yeah," I answered, grabbing my songbook and positioning it in front of my bulging jeans as I opened the door. "Sorry, I must have drifted off to sleep."Reluctantly, I stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me as Doreen wrapped one of her beefy arms around my shoulders and squeezed me, "I was so worried, Kenny. It's not like you to be late for the bus."We were driven to a multi-stage performing center and treated to a rubber chicken and cheap white wine. Our band opened on the main stage for the folk singer Martin Sexton and as much as I tried to keep my mind on the music, every time I caught sight of a pair perfect young tits in the audience, I started fantasizing about what I was sure had been about to happen back at that dorm. After the final chorus of "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" faded into silence, the festival promoters threw us a party. There was more cheap wine, and nearly everyone who was anyone in folk music was busy mingling -- music professors, newspaper critics, local radio personalities and even a couple of well-known NYC and Boston record producers. It was after 3AM before the tour bus finally dropped me back at the dorm. I left the light off as I entered the room and walked immediately to the window. As I feared, the room across the courtyard was dark. Elsewhere, all was dark, except for the eerie flicker of a TV from behind closed curtains on a lower floor. I flipped on my bedside lamp, stripped down to my briefs and sat on the edge of the bed softly strumming my guitar and feeling dejected that I had been so close to the spontaneous fulfillment of a long-time erotic fantasy. When something flickered in the corner of my eye, my heart missed a beat -- probably a couple of beats. Across the courtyard, the lights blazed and my teen angel was back. She was still wearing skintight jeans and sleeveless t, but this time her hair was down and dark blonde tresses cascaded across bare shoulders. Once again, she swayed before the mirror, her nipples stiff and visible through the soft fabric and her eyes roaming her own reflection. Once or twice she flipped her hair back with her fingertips. Then almost exactly as I imagined she might, she moved her hands to the front of her jeans. I could see the reflection of her fingers caressing the front panel of her jeans. She stood for a long time, swaying and studying herself. Then her fingers moved to the top snap, unbuttoned it, and lowered the zipper far enough to reveal a pair of pink panties. She turned sideways, examining her bare midriff and the V-shaped patch of smooth skin revealed by her partially unzipped jeans. My cock was hard and pressing against my briefs. But for the moment, I rested my chin on my guitar and watched in awe and appreciation. Shifting her attention, she cupped one breast in her hand and began to swirl her fingertips across the distended nipple. Her eyelids fluttered close and she swayed her hips in a circular rotation. Soon she was pinching her nipple while her free hand disappeared inside the front of her jeans. It was too much for me. My erection was throbbing in my briefs and I desperately needed to touch myself. But as I stood up to place my guitar on the bed, I saw her body tense and freeze. What a fool I was. The reading lamp was blazing just a few feet away from me and just as I could see her in the mirror, I realized she was now watching me, her attention attracted by my sudden movement. My heart pounded with excitement and fear. Fear that I'd been caught peeking on this private moment. And perhaps an even greater fear that she would race to her curtains and angrily pull them closed. She remained frozen, her hands in place, but no longer massaging herself. Her eyes were wide, fixed in my direction. I was standing now, my cock bulging against the front of my white briefs, the little rim of the cock tip, and even the veins on the shaft, clearly visible through the tightly stretched cotton. Almost instinctively, my hand released the guitar and moved, as if in slow motion, to my chest. My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they slipped over my naked nipple and began to caress their way down across my stomach and abs. Only her eyes moved, following the arc of my fingers. I paused at the top of my briefs, then let my fingers glide across the front, barely stroking my cock, which visibly throbbed in response. A tiny shiver passed down my spine, and I thought I could see the muscles in her neck and arms relax ever so slightly. In for dime, in for a dollar, I thought to myself and I began to openly run my fingertips up and down the shaft of my throbbing cock. While lightly stroking my cock through my briefs, I reached for the waistband and began to lower them ever so slowly. At first I merely revealed an inch or so of the white skin that had evaded my swimmer's tan. Then lower still until the first tufts of pubic hair peeked into view. A slight smile of appreciation shone on her face. Her hand slid along the front of her t-shirt and taking it by the hem, she began to inch it upwards, exposing her wonderfully flat stomach. Our movements became almost synchronized. Just as my cock leapt over the waist band, she pulled her shirt enough to expose a pair of eraser-shaped nipples to early morning air. My briefs dropped to the floor and I stood completely naked, my erection pointing out and slightly upward. For a moment her vision was obscured as the shirt slipped over he head. When the shirt was gone, I could see her eyes focusing on the mirror, taking in the reflection of my naked erection with an intense curiosity. Once again, her fingers enfolded her nipple and she began to gently massage herself. I could also see movement in the front of her jeans, where her other hand was still thrust inside her panties. A sense of liberation swept over me. I had never masturbated for another person. But I was going to do it now for this beautiful young stranger. And knowing that she was also aroused and touching herself as she watched heightened the sensation to an almost unbearable level. It was then that I smiled --a wide, uninhibited smile. And as my fingers encircled my naked cock, she smiled back.It didn't take long -- two maybe three minutes of stroking as I watched her fingers going deeper into her jeans -- and I was on the edge. She must have sensed this, because for the first time, she turned from the mirror and looked directly into my eyes before lowering her gaze to my cock. She paused her own masturbation as her eyes locked onto my fist and engorged shaft. Then she surprised me by pulling her fingers from inside her jeans and slowly rocking the waistband from one side to the other and lowering it along her hips. The jeans fell to the floor, and as they did, she stretched her panties tightly across her pussy lips. I saw a dark moisture stain spreading across the pink material and the outline of swollen labia framing her tight groove. It was too much. I took a couple of steps towards the window and arched my back. I managed to cup my balls with one hand -- and I pulled my right hand away from my cock just as I started to orgasm. The first rope of thick white cum fired upward, splashing across the window at chest height. Her eyes widened in surprise, then suddenly she grasped her pussy lips through her panties and began to twist and squeeze as her body seemed to shimmer with convulsions. I grabbed my throbbing cock and with a couple of furious pumping motions, I sent more sperm splashing against the window. Her knees seemed to buckle and she collapsed like rag doll on the bed, her hand pressed between her legs and her rib cage rising and falling as struggled to catch her breath. The power of my orgasm left me feeling light headed, and I tottered backwards until I found my own bed, and fell onto it. A few minutes later, I saw her standing in the window, completely naked with light reflecting from her thin blonde pubic hairs. As I struggled to my feet, she smiled, blew me a kiss, then reached out with her fingers and gracefully swept the curtains closed. Later, I awoke to Doreen pounding on my door again. In a fog, I dressed, gathered my belongings and stumbled into the morning sunlight. We were 20 miles down the Mass Turnpike when I realized that I would never know her name or see her again. But I would, at least, always have a perfect memory of my room with a view.