Porter’s body relaxed as he let me unbutton his tuxedo shirt, including its delicate French cuffs. I pulled it off his muscular, broad shoulders, tossing it on the sink. He undid the button of his tuxedo pants, stepping out of them with ease, standing there in Tom Ford boxers and trouser socks. I giggled as I thought of the first time we had sex and his affinity for argyle grandpa socks. Porter, with a sly, remembering grin, coolly slid off his socks, then his boxers, where an eager dick leaped out without provocation. Women wouldn’t normally describe a man’s penis as beautiful but there was no other way to describe Porter’s dick. It was indeed beautiful: even-toned, heavy, and carved to guarantee orgasms. I likened it to Ken Griffey Jr.’s bat—it always found the sweet spot.
I leaned against the vanity and opened my legs, anticipating whatever it was he was going to give me. Porter bent down, grabbing his tie. I was open and ready. Seeing this, Porter licked his bottom lip and shook his head as he planted a kiss on my thigh.
“Impatient, are we? Well, you’re going to have to wait.”
He took my hand and led me out of the bathroom and back into the open, expansive living room. All the lights were on. The rain was coming down harder. We walked back over to the massive windows. Porter positioned himself behind me. I could see our reflection in the window.
“I want them to see what I see,” Porter whispered.
“Them?” I questioned.
“Yes, the neighbors that I know are watching us.”
As he talked, Porter moved one hand between my legs and the other cupped my breasts, which were spilling over between his fingers. His thumb and index finger held on to my nipple, alternating between stroking and squeezing them. With each touch of his fingers, I wanted to climax. I groaned. He needed to fuck me. Now.
Porter continued, his voice heavy and dripping with desire. “I want them to watch. I want them to watch me make love to the most beautiful woman in this city. In this world. Is that alright? I’ll do whatever you want, Ari. Whatever.”
I was always adventurous as a lover, but I’d never had an audience when I had sex. I was so turned-on Porter could have asked me to let a bus full of monks watch, and I would have said yes. The pressure of his fingers on my pussy became harder, moving faster as his thumb pressed slightly against my clitoris. I could hear the wetness gliding against his fingers with each stroke.
“Yes,” I answered between the strokes of his hand. “God, yes.” More than anything, I wanted Porter to stop teasing me and just fuck me. This was becoming too much.
Porter stopped stroking. “Widen your stance,” he said firmly. I did as I was told.
Porter kneeled and cupped my ass. His tongue, hot and wet, slithered along my cheeks and then dipped between, finding my clitoris from the back. It felt so good, I could barely hold on. I gripped the exposed brick wall, my fingertips touching the cold, wet window. A flicker of lights from the opposite lofts shone through the window. I let out a moan that echoed throughout Porter’s expansive loft.
Porter came up for air. His beard was glistening with my arousal. The lights from the windows cast him in an amber glow. “Did you like that, Ari?”
“Yes,” I said. I was dizzy from the erratic breathing that my orgasm created. Turning around, I faced him and leaned against the brick wall. He didn’t need the validation, but I was glad to give it.
He reached down on the floor and picked up his tie.
“I saw you admiring this when I picked you up. Again. This is a $200 tie.” Porter slyly smiled.
“I was admiring your tie, wasn’t I.”
“I want you to know they’re watching us without you watching them.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let me show you.”
Porter held both of my hands. “May I?” he asked. I nodded affirmatively. Turning me around to face the window again, he slid the tie across my shoulders, then around my face. He placed the tie in front of my face and finally, across my eyes. The tightness of the tie around my eyes made my nipples harden with excitement. The sound of a condom wrapper opening sent wetness pooling. His hand ran down the length of my back. Instinctively, I bent over. Porter grabbed me by my waist and slowly entered me from behind, filling me up completely. I bit my lip hard, leaving faint indentations in my lower lip from trying not to scream. He was stretching me, filling me deeply with every inch of him. I was more than willing to accommodate him. I wanted him. All of him.
As the rain pounded the windows, Porter met the rhythm of the early winter storm with every stroke. He interchangeably held my waist, then grabbed a fistful of my hair. I could see nothing and hear everything. Panting and gasping, the coldness of the windows beating against my splayed fingers made me wetter. I wasn’t sure if anyone was watching us through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the thought turned me on even more. It was sexy as all fuck.