The attic window

The attic window

The elevator stopped on the tenth floor. Miguel opened the attic door with a single key and the smell of hot wood and perfumed skin floated to the landing. Elena entered first, barefoot already, wearing the heel shoes hung on two fingers. The black dress was sticking to her hips as she moved; she carried the bra to match, very fine, that she had bought the previous evening for pure intuition.

"Slight light, please," she asked, pointing to the switch of the living room. The light bulbs lit at half intensity. Beyond the sliding window, the lights of the Great Way shone in a cloudless night.

Miguel dropped his jacket on the back of an armchair and approached it from behind. His hands stood on his waist, warm and wide. Elena arched her back; the gesture was an invitation. He kissed his neck, slowly, without haste, leaving a trail of breath that cooled just a second later.

"Tell me if you want to stop at any time," Michael murmured against her skin.

"I want you to continue," answered Elena, the firm voice. "Everything."

The dress came down with a silk whisper up to her ankles. Elena wore only the black lace panties. Miguel turned her towards the window, placing her in front of the tempered glass. Outside, the city was bulging in silence; inside, the reflection of both was trimmed against the very far-off lights. Miguel’s palm toured her back, went down the bend of the waist and stopped on the right buttocks, gently touching the firmness of the muscle.

• Are you still comfortable?

• A lot.

He knelt down. He kissed the lumbar hollow first, then each buttock slowly, breathing against the skin. The fingers lowered the lace to the thighs and let it fall. Elena leaned her hands on the glass, in front of the reflected torso. Miguel opened the bottle of lubricant that he had left on the auxiliary table, heated it between the palms and extended a generous portion between Elena’s buttocks. The gel was warm. She sighed when she felt contact.

Michael began with a single finger, soft, in circles, letting the sphincter distended at his own pace. Elena’s breathing became deeper, but he did not tighten. When the finger entered whole, he waited, letting the muscle get used to it. Then he introduced a second finger with the same care, turning them just, opening it millimetre to millimeter.

"More," she whispered.

-When you're ready.

• I am.

Miguel joined. He opened his belt, lowered his pants zip. The penis was already hard, heavy between his legs; he lubricated it generously, from the base to the glans, until it was shiny. With his free hand he continued to prepare Elena, three fingers now, slowly, until the muscle yielded without resistance.

"Be more supportive," he said quietly.

Elena flexed her knees a little, separated her legs. Miguel placed the head of the limb at the exact point, leaned his hands on her hips and pushed just the pressure needed for the glans to enter. He stopped. He waited. The muscle ring opened slowly, adjusting the width. Elena let out a long, almost snoring sigh.

"Well," he said. "Breath."

He pushed another centimeter. Another. Each advance was accompanied by more lubricant and a pause that allowed the tissues to adapt. When half of the limb was inside, Miguel let go of one hand and reached Elena’s clitoris; he drew soft, rhythmic circles, synchronized with penetration. Her body leaned slightly forward, seeking contact.

"Deeper," he asked.

Miguel obeyed. He entered completely into a single slow inhalation, until the pubis was stuck against the buttocks. They stood still for a few seconds, feeling the pressure of each other. Then the movement began, short swings at first, only the pelvis, allowing the glans to caress the most sensitive part of the anal canal. Each attack was controlled; the lubricant snapped gently every time he went out almost completely and again sinked.

Elena supported her forehead against the cold glass. Her breasts rocked only with every push; the glass tarnished with her breath. Miguel accelerated the pace just a little bit, just so that the friction would become more intense without reaching the tapping. She inserted two fingers into her vagina while she continued to penetrate it from behind; her fingers and penis moved in setback, filling it on both sides.

"I'm going to come soon," said Elena, the voice cut short.

• Tell me when.

• Now.

The climax ran through her in waves. The anus contracted around her penis in strong and hot pulses. Miguel kept up until Elena let go of a long moan, almost a sob of pleasure, and felt that she melted in her hands. Only then did she increase her speed, seeking her own orgasm. Two deeper onslaughts and ran inside her, ejaculating in spasms that strained the muscles of the buttocks and thighs.

They stood still, joined together, the beat of the two bodies reverberated against the window. Miguel kissed Elena’s neck again, slowly. Then he withdrew carefully, holding her hip so that she did not lose balance. Elena turned; her eyes shone, her lips moist, her hair dull. She smiled, satisfied and serene.

"Down with you," he proposed.

"Yes," he replied.

They picked up the scattered clothes without haste. Before crossing the corridor, Miguel stopped Elena in front of the mirror of the hall. She kissed her forehead. She kissed her back in the corner of her lips. Outside, the lights of the city kept blinking, indifferent.