Justin and I are long gone our different ways. The following story no doubt contributed to our split, and it was no use me complaining and pointing out that all we did was fulfil his fantasy. Or that he had pushed me into it, each time a little further until...well until this happened.
Chapter 01
We lived in Melbourne in an eighth floor apartment. It was small, modern and trendy with so many bars, cafes and restaurants within walking distance that there was nowhere else we wanted to live.
Privacy was a different issue. Our balcony was crescent shaped with a modern glassed in railing, and wile it screened us from our neighbours in the same building, across the road, perhaps 25 metres away, was another, taller apartment building. There were also office towers on either side of that apartment which made several dozen windows that could look onto our balcony. And that was where the trouble started.
Justin loved it when I walked around in skimpy clothes. Like most men would I guess. I'm slim, 172cm tall (that's around 5'8" for my American cousins -- are you the only non-metric nation in the world now?) and back then my hair fell halfway down my back, dark brown with the slightest wave (and would go frizzy in the rain -- and you have to hate that right ladies?). Small B cup boobs, but I'm proud to say very pert with pencil thick nipples that poked out of whatever I was wearing whether they were erect or not. So Justin loved it when I wore no bra, ensuring all men I spoke to (even the gay ones) would drop their eyes when greeting me.
Don't get me wrong, I was into what he was into, but for the other reason. He was the voyeur and I was the exhibitionist. But, and it is a big but, I need to be pushed into exhibiting myself. Or drunk. Or turned on.
We had been out drinking the night it all started, we staggered into our apartment and began dragging our clothes off in the living area. When I was naked, my nipples very proud and erect, Justin stopped, stepped back and grinned at me. He dared me to go out onto the balcony. It was after midnight, and a quick glance showed only a couple of illuminated apartments across the way. So I did it. The air was cool and I felt the goose bumps rise on my skin as I stepped into the outside air. And my clitoris sent its message of happiness throbbing into my belly. I walked to the railing and looked down, watching two cars crawl along the narrow road. The noise of the city rose to meet my ears and I felt public and very exposed.
From directly across the road on the same level as our apartment, I saw a match flare on a darkened balcony. I couldn't see who had struck the match, but I shivered with the knowledge that whoever was there could probably see my silhouetted shape against the light of our apartment. I was fairly certain that they would not have been able to see my nakedness, not on the darkened balcony.
And then the lights in our apartment were extinguished and for a moment I felt a sense of gratitude to my live in lover and boyfriend, the man who I was starting to think could be the one. Until the lights on our balcony flashed on, completely illuminating me, then were switched off. I spun to look for Justin as the lights came back on and stayed on. He too had seen the flare of the match and had deliberately darkened the apartment to keep himself from view, then flashed the balcony lights to attract the smoker's attention. For I was fairly certain as a smoker myself, that what I had seen was someone lighting up.
'Turn the lights off Justin,' I said trying to keep my voice calm despite the rising embarrassment I felt.
'No,' he replied, equally calm sounding. There was a competitiveness developing as part of our relationship. I could have easily walked into the dark safety of the apartment, but I would have lost to his dare. I had to return when I wanted to, not because he had made me.
'Then I'll come inside,' I said.
'No, I'll do something for you if you stay out there.' His voice had gone a little husky and I felt myself shiver in lust. I do have one voyeuristic element to me, and that is watching men masturbate. Male self-pleasure is a great turn on to me and Justin knew it. And as I stood naked on the balcony I saw in the half light of the apartment his naked form sitting in a chair just inside the window. I watched as his long-fingered hand wrapped itself around his erection and he began to stroke himself with a languid wrist bending motion. I shivered again.
'Turn side on so they can see you,' he muttered and I did. From across the way, if they were indeed watching, they would be able to see most of my front now. I didn't care whether they were watching, the point is that they could be. The element of excitement or arousal that comes from being an exhibitionist is not always knowing that you are being watched, but that you could be.
Justin sat and I stood watching each other for almost five minutes. He lost, his excitement overcoming his competitiveness, though truth be known he was only seconds ahead of me caving in. He beckoned me inside and without another word I straddled his lap and we fucked on the chair. Our breathing was ragged and harsh, his hands explored my breasts and back and face as I rose and fell on his lap. He didn't last, he had been too turned on for too long and I felt his hot come spurt inside me as he growled like a cornered fox. I buried him deep in me and watched his face contort as he came, then as he began to relax, but before he softened and slipped from inside me, I rapidly moved my hips back and forth. Our juices trickled from inside me and onto his lap as I used his still partially hard shaft to stimulate my clitoris and then I too came, a vision of being watched by a long haired man standing on his darkened balcony across the street with a glowing cigarette between his fingers the final prompt that released my inner ecstasy.
It turned out my vision was partly correct.
Chapter 02
The following Friday morning I was standing outside the small shop that served the apartments in the area, waiting for my cab to collect me and take me to work. A young blonde girl walked down the street towards me, seemed to hesitate and then asked if I had a light. She fished out a packet of Alpine cigarettes as she asked and automatically I reached into my bag for my lighter.
'Do you live in there?' she asked, pointing to my apartment block across the road. And I knew then that she was the smoker in the dark. Her hair was long, almost as long as mine. I guessed that she was perhaps 19, (at the time I was 26), and despite wearing a loose fitting sports sweater and track pants, I figured she had a nice athletic body.
'Yes,' I nodded as nonchalantly as I could while I flicked the wheel to ignite the flame. I watched her lips clamp on the filter and her cheeks curve inwards as she drew back.
'Eighth floor?'
'Uh, yes.' I had considered lying but couldn't see the point.
'You know with your balcony lights on everyone can see.' A faint smile played at the corner of her mouth and her eyes challenged me to deny what she was saying.