[Just looking for feedback.]
The heat.
The sweltering summer heat.
It built and built and refused to go away. Days went by, weeks even, and the city hadn’t had more than a light breeze or wispy cloud to help fend off the scorching sun. Those who lived with air conditioning could find comfort in that uncomfortable heat. Betty Bell wasn’t one of them.
Hers was an apartment on the third floor of an old building not ten minutes from her college. One bedroom. One bathroom. One open space with a kitchenette to the side. Small. But also hers. It was the first place the eighteen year old could truly call her own. It was freedom. Not the freedom to move that comes with one’s first car, but the freedom to live that comes with one’s first place. The apartment had everything the young woman wanted. Everything but an AC unit.
She would do anything to cool down. Anything to mitigate the stuffy heat of her tiny apartment. If that meant laying naked on the floor with a soaking wet towel over her busty chest, then lay and soak is what she’d do.
“Seriously? God, would you, like, quit it with this heat? Please?”
The heat remained, but the lord works in strange ways.
Chimes. Musical notes of fun and fancy. They worked their way through her window to bring promises of iced delights and momentary relief from the sizzling summer. The brunette shot up, ran to her balcony and threw its door open. There, on the side of the road below her, was an ice cream truck. That she was standing above the street stark naked was irrelevant.
Betty was there in a minute.
Her towel was tossed and her tits contained in a tight tank. Flip flops and short shorts took only seconds more to don. With her body covered and cash in hand the busty brunette was off. Bounding down the hall. Bouncing down the stairs. Nearly bowling over an old woman at the building entrance. All for a sweet, overpriced treat to help her beat the heat.
Another minute more and the young woman had eight inches of fun in hand.
It was long, thick and delicious. Just the sort of thing she loved to run her tongue over. The sort of thing she loved to suck. Betty closed her eyes and took it as deep as she could, to the point where its tip pressed against the back of her throat, then slowly pulled back to let it pop free of her lips.
“Thanks Mr. Ice Cream man!”
The brunette got a smile and a wave from the elderly gentleman in the truck before heading back inside with a truly monstrous popsicle. Grape flavored. There was no reason for her to rush back. No point in racing up the stairs with her sugary treat. She just parked herself in front of the elevator and waited.
Betty didn’t have to wait for long.
The doors welcomed her into the small space with a ding. A moment later they had nearly closed again before a mans hand shot through their closing gap.
“Excuse me.”
The brunette slid to the side as he stepped forward.
Silence.
The awkward-but-not silence of strangers in an elevator. Two people alone in such a small, intimate space. Side by side. Their eyes locked forward. Waiting. Betty sucked her popsicle. The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Both did their best to pretend the other didn’t exist, but each knew the other was there.
She was young. Hot. Long brown hair and big brown eyes. And her tits. Her massive mammaries. They pushed at a white tank top barely capable of containing them. The delightful depths of cleavage her top displayed. The beads of sweat slowly running down her chest to be lost in mountains of flesh.
The man struggled to keep his head turned to the door, and in that struggle he wasn’t alone.
He was tall. So very much taller than she was. So very much older, too. He wasn’t a boy from the college, but a man. A gruff looking man who had the look of someone with a physical job. One he’d been doing for a long while. His was a physique built at a work site, not a gym. Betty wondered about his hands. His large, strong hands. Would they be rough? Calloused from use? What would they feel like stroking her bare skin? Groping her? Exploring her? Pleasing her?
Silence.
Silence that seemed to last far longer than the thirty seconds it did. Silence that was broken not by the ding of opening doors, but by a lurch and the brief chugging of some mechanical component.
The strangers looked to the ceiling and, in unison, uttered the same word.
“Seriously?”
Minutes more had passed. Betty focused on her popsicle while her masculine companion called the building manager with his phone.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news.”
She popped her treat free of pursed lips.
“Umm, what’s the bad news? I heard you’re always supposed to ask for the bad news first, so…”
“It’s going to be an hour or so before anyone can get out here to look at the elevator. It looks like we’re stuck here until then.”
“Oh, well, like, what’s the good news then?”
He shrugged.
“That someone’s coming. Honestly, I was going to say that first and use it to lead into the bad news.”
“Oh…” The busty brunette bimbo gave her popsicle another long, slow lick. “That’s good, I guess. Maybe you could lead into something else, then?”
He smiled a toothy smile and stuck out his hand.
“Alright. The good news is that I get to meet my new neighbor. The name’s Glen.”
“Betty.”
Glens hand was just as rough as she had imagined it to be. His was a firm grip. One that spoke of strength, but also control. It was the respectful handshake of an honest man.
“So…”
“So.”
Tension rose along with the heat. The pair tried their best to make small talk; to discuss the weather and living in the building and their individual plans for the rest of the summer, but nothing could distract them from their situation.
Hotter.
The popsicle didn’t last. With it gone Betty had nothing to help her beat the heat. Nothing to mitigate the growing sheen of damp sweat across her skin. Glen was worse off, being fully dressed in the oven of an elevator.
“Mind if I take off my shirt?”
“Go ahead. It’s, like, cool. I mean, it isn’t cool. It’s stupid hot in here. I just mean…”
Hotter.
He looked like he could pick her up and do whatever he wanted to her. She wanted him to pick her up. She wanted him to do whatever. The girls dirty mind began to race with all the things the older stranger could do with such a large, powerful body. Betty tried, and failed, to look somewhere other than Glens thick, bare torso.
She got excited. Visibly excited.
Cheeks grew red. Breathing grew deep. Nipples grew stiff. Shorts grew damp. Damp with a heat not of the summer. Wet with a fluid that wasn’t sweat. Betty tried to continue their small, meaningless conversation. It wasn’t easy. Especially when she realized the grown man was ogling her barely covered body just as much as she was, his.
The growing heat of their diminutive prison had turned it into a sweat box. Her tank top, a high cut affair of thin white fabric, did less to protect her modesty with each passing moment.
“Do you mind if I, umm…” Betty could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “Fuck it.”
The eighteen year old peeled her damp top from her young body to expose her chest.
Her glorious chest.
Betty had a pair of tits that could launch a porn stars career. Her body was graced by two teardrops as large as her head that had yet to be weighed down by time. Each was capped in a light pink patch the size of a man’s palm.
It was a vulgar chest. There was no way to hide it. No way to desexualize it. The brunette bimbo had come to be defined by her bountiful breasts, her bouncing boobs. And she was okay with that. She loved her titanic tits. The many struggles of being an enormously endowed young woman were worth it in her mind. Every dumbfounded stare was welcomed. Nip slips were enjoyable surprises. Popping free of her top was a favored pass time. Betty loved her tits, and she loved the reactions she got when she showed them off.
“Holy shit.”
The teen put her hands behind her head and leaned back. She found it to be the best way to display her considerable cannons.
“If you want to fool around I’m, like, totally down.”
He was down.
Glen took one of her perfect pillows in hand. He lifted and squeezed it like he was appraising a cut of meat. Then the man tasted it, bending down and burying his face into her soft flesh. His lips sucked. His tongue flicked. His teeth gently nibbled. Betty couldn’t help but giggle as her nub was teased in the man’s mouth. With one vulgar nipple erect and glistening with spit the man moved on to sucking the other.
“Oh, oh my god. Oh fuck, Glen…”
Bettys breasts had always been sensitive. Playful groping from her friends had more then once ended with her accidental sexual gratification. It was that sensitivity that had her rubbing her thighs together. That had her squirming in a strangers grip.
Glen noticed.
He was an observant man and a selfless lover. Experienced, too. He’d been satisfying women since before the brunette bombshell was born. The man ran a rough, textured hand up her smooth thigh before pulling her shorts down. Two thick fingers easily slipped into her body. She whimpered. A thumb rubbed against her clit. She gasped. The fingers moved. She gave a breathless cry.
From within and without, Glen found bundles of nerves that shot pleasure straight to the teens brain and did more to melt her than any amount of heat. He knew what he was doing.
Betty couldn’t take it. The teen found her legs turning to jelly and the elevator wall insufficient support. The only thing keeping her from sinking to the floor were the thick fingers hooked into her hot young pussy. The pressure on her tender flesh grew as more and more of her weight came down on Glen’s hand. When she’d given up entirely the man lowered her to the floor.
“I… Fuck, Glen, like, my tits…”
Big brown eyes locked onto the bulge in the mans pants. Betty reached out, her fingers grazing over the hidden tool. Glen got the idea and let his pants hit the floor.
“Oh, em, gee. Your cock is, like, wow.” She slowly stroked his shaft. “I wish I had my phone on me. My friends would be so jealous.”
“I could always send you a picture later.”
She smiled and planted a kiss on the mans swollen head.
“Can you, like, pick me up? I wanna try-”
The busty brunette squealed in delight as she was lifted from the floor. Her hands gripped his thick shoulders. His, her plush ass. She wrapped her legs around him to hold herself close. So close she could straddle the meaty pole sandwiched between their sweaty bodies.
“Fuck, Betty. Your pussy’s so hot. It feels like you’re on fire.”
“I… your cock is so… fuck, please…”
They didn’t have to do much to get the teen what she wanted. Her rocking hips. Her gyrations. Each time she humped his shaft she risked taking it in. When it did come it was a smooth affair. A thick, lubricated penetrator gliding into her desperately horny body.
“I- Oh, fuck. Glen. Fuck me. Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Fuck-”
The words came as a chant in time with each slap of her ass against his thighs. Glen, a man who was still very much a stranger to the eighteen year old, didn’t seem to mind carrying her. If anything, holding her let the man better control the pace of the pounding he gave her pretty pink pussy.
Glen grunted in sync with Betty’s words and the slapping of skin on skin. He wasn’t a talker. Not when he had a young slut on his dick. Not when he had a perfect set of massive tits bouncing in front of him. There was no time to talk. Only fuck.
Out until his manhood was just barely wrapped in the pedals of her delicate flower.
In until his meat was stuffed as far as it would go into her slutty fuck hole.
The elevator lurched.
Their small talk had taken time. Then there had been groping and sucking and a powerful pounding of the brunette babes perfect pussy. The minutes added up. Their count lost to the pair as they indulged in each others bodies.
Glen put his teenage fuck toy down and scrambled to retrieve his pants and shirt. The man barely had time to dress himself before the doors opened with a ding and he found himself eye to eye with the elevator repairman. A repairman who immediately stepped back as the stink of sweat and sex hit him like a punch in the face.
Even without their sexual scent seeping into everything, he’d have known what the trapped pair were up to. Betty hadn’t bothered to get dressed. She simply threw her sweaty clothes over one shoulder and stood by Glen as though there was nothing wrong.
“So, like, is the elevator fixed?”
She got a series of half words and stuttered starts in response.
“Um, hello? Elevator? Working?”
The newcomer managed a nod. He then vanished as the doors closed.
“So… are we gonna finish, or…”
“My apartment has AC.”
Those four words proved to be the greatest pickup line of the summer.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/wsoeot/an_elevating_encounter_18f40m
Awesome