moving day

“Well, that’s the last of it. We’re all moved in.” His grin was contagious and she found herself smiling into his chest as they hugged. They stood in that embrace, surrounded by boxes filled with all their worldly possessions, overtired and happy, a bit delirious with the stress of the day and the newness of their surroundings. The hug became a kiss, then more kisses, lips suddenly feverish with intent and fingertips fumbling with buttons and belt buckles.

He stood back as he peeled off her t-shirt, drinking her in and watching her eyes as she unclasped her bra and let it fall. In moments he was naked too and wrapped around her, lifting her onto a stack of boxes, her back arching as his mouth roamed, steaming and sucking against her shoulder, between her breasts and finally between her legs. She thrust her hands into his hair and leaned back, pelvis jutting into his jaw, her own jaw tilted towards the bare bulb shining from the ceiling. A gasp, a flutter of hands.
“Wait, not here … Just wait.”
She gently pushed his now wet face from between her legs, his mouth agape, thumbs pressing urgently into the flesh of her thighs.
“Why not? The bed isn’t built yet. No one will see us, the window is obscured by boxes, it’s fine.” His head dipped again but she slid from his grip.
“That’s not what I meant,” she giggled, “come with me.”
She pulled him by his hand and pushed open the balcony door. Just two stories below them was a winding riverside path and a slow river. There was a summery hum of insects in the grass and the trees on both sides of the water’s edge were set aglow in the dying light.
“No neighbors across from us has so many advantages, don’t you think?” The cool iron of the railing pressed into her back as she pulled his mouth to hers again, his hardness pressed against her stomach. She turned with a coquettish smile and braced herself against the railing, a quick glance either way along the foot path below before arching and wiggling back into him, sighing as he filled her. Moaning quietly, showing some modesty for their new neighbors, they thrust and rutted against one another, his hand tightly fisted in the back of her hair, sweat beading on both their bodies, teeth gritted as the sun sank and the golden twilight turned inky blue. Their skin was alive with goosebumps in the fading warmth of the evening, every sense heightened by anxiety and fed by the novelty of their locale. Deeper and harder they pushed each other; passionate, smoldering lovemaking. They were liberated, set alight, resplendent in their unity and daring. Flanks taut, throats growling, a cherry red manicure chipping against the wrought iron railing. They were fireworks, they were the splitting atom, they were Original Sin. A final gasp from her and rumbling roar from him as he pulled her back to his chest, hearts thumping in unison, his pleasure drizzling down her thighs. The afterglow was broken as they recognized the rhythmic crunching footfalls of a jogger on the gravel path below. Giggling and laughing they spilled back into the safety of their new apartment, breathless and high on the danger and bliss of their quick coupling.
He grinned again, “Mmmmm that was thrilling! So sexy and so risky!”
“It was,” she replied, “very risky indeed. But what a view!”

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.