Archive-name: 3plus/on-roof.txt
Archive-author: Solo Polyphony
Archive-title: Up On the Roof


Second in the "Deb's Tails" series.  Again, a repost, thanks to a number
of requests.

     My wife, Deborah, often tells me "bedtime stories" of her sexual
adventures.  Some of them I know are true, either because I was there, or
because she has corroborative evidence.  Some of them, I'm sure, are fictional. 
Others, I'm just not sure about.  I'll vouch for the truth of this story.  After
all, I'd never contradict a lady in public.  
     One of the nice things about living in an apartment in a big city is that
it affords you opportunities that a private house or a small town just can't
offer.  Our apartment building, for example, has a glass-walled restaurant
taking up about half the roof.  We don't go there often; we can't afford a whole
lot of visits to four-star restaurants.  The rest of the roof has been covered
with patio tiles, and is open to the residents for sunbathing, stargazing, or
whatever.  We've even had one person commit suicide by jumping off -- although I
don't think the management approved of that.  Needless to say, the view from up
there is spectacular.  You've got the lights of the city spread out all around
you, and from the roof you can people-watch into the restaurant.  Of course,
that works both ways.
     Anyway, this is the story as Deb tells it (albeit, with my title).

                                 UP ON THE ROOF

     Remember what happened a few months ago, when we went up to the roof to
look at the view?  It was around one in the morning.  The restaurant had just
closed, so some of the staff was still in there cleaning up, putting the chairs
out of the way, and all of that kind of thing.  We went over to the corner
furthest from the restaurant, kind of behind the potted trees, and leaned on the
wall at the edge.
     We chatted for a bit and watched the lights, and then I felt you edge up
behind me and put your arms around me.  Somehow I wasn't surprised.  I had
rather suspected you had something more in mind than looking at the view when
you suggested coming up.  I had even dressed appropriately: a tank-top, and no
bra.  I leaned back against you and smiled when your hands slid around my waist
and began to caress my stomach.
     I reached behind myself and behind you to stroke your butt as you began to
kiss the side of my neck.  The kiss -- and your butt -- felt really good, and I
leaned back against you, feeling the bulge in your pants beginning to poke
against my ass.  You shifted your attention upwards a bit, nibbling my ear and
stroking my breasts.  I responded by squirming my butt against your crotch,
grinning as I felt your cock growing harder and harder.  I shivered when you
pulled my shirt free of my pants and slipped your hands underneath.
     "Cold?" you asked.
     "A little," I replied.  "It's the breeze more than anything else."
     You turned me around to face you, and then turned us both around so your
back was towards the breeze and mine towards the restaurant.  "There you go,
ma'am.  Your own, private wind-screen."  It was such a thoughtful gesture I
couldn't possibly complain when you pulled my shirt off, baring my breasts.  Not
that I would have complained, especially after you bent down and began licking
my nipples.
     It felt very nice, but with you bent over like that, the breeze was
starting to bother me again.  I pulled you upright, and pressed my tits against
you, warming them on your chest.  Your cock was like a rock, and I knew it must
be demanding release rather urgently.  "Would you like me to do something about
this?" I asked, stroking it gently through your pants.
     "Silly question..."
     "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"  I undid your belt, opened the button of your
jeans, unzipped your fly, and found that you had dressed for the occasion too. 
Without underpants to confine it, your cock stuck straight out in front of you. 
I glanced around, and decided that if anyone was still in the restaurant, the
trees would prevent them from seeing anything.  To be sure though, I decided to
stay between you and the windows.  I lowered your pants to your knees, and then
began to run my index finger back and forth along the underside of your prick. 
You shivered, and it was my turn to look mock-concerned.  "Aw, what's the
matter?  Breeze blowing up your ass?"
     "No, the wall's blocking the breeze.  It's the madwoman trying to scratch
my cock under the chin that's making me do that.  Doesn't she know that you're
supposed to do that to pussies?"
     "There's only one pussy around here, and I'm not into scratching my own at
the moment."
     You rolled your eyes, although I'm not sure whether in pain at the level of
humor we had just displayed, or in pleasure as I wrapped my hand around your
cock and began to stroke the length of it.  After a minute or two, I began to
stroke your balls with my other hand, and you began to moan in pleasure.  When
your moans began to peak, and your balls tightened up into your crotch, I
released you.  "Hang on a second.  I know what you'd really like."
     I turned you around, pushing you to a sitting position on the edge of the
planter I had been leaning against.  I figured that way your body would help
block what I was about to do from anyone in the restaurant.
     I dropped to my knees in front of you, lifting your cock to point straight
up.  I leaned against you, pressing your cock between my cheek and your stomach. 
"Gotta get it nice and warm.  Don't want you to get cold-cocked."  The groan
that followed that line was definitely one of pain.
     Still holding your prick upright, I kissed the tip, and then ran my tongue
across it along the groove under the head.  I took the tip in my mouth and began
circling my tongue around it.  I slid my head down a bit further, continuing the
circling motion as I began to jerk you off again.
     I didn't want you cumming to soon, so when you began to thrust into my
mouth, I pulled back.  I gave you a few seconds to cool down, and then ran my
tongue down the underside of your shaft, from the tip to the base.  I kissed
your balls, and then began to lick them gently.  I started with tiny little
strokes from back to front, and then lengthened them gradually.  When the
strokes became so long that I was licking all the way around the sack and onto
the base of your cock, I ran my tongue back up to the tip, and began the cycle
over again, kissing the tip before I returned it to my mouth.
     Three times I repeated the cycle, from cock to balls and back again, before
events came to a head.  I had your cock deep in my mouth, whipping my tongue
against the underside, one hand wrapped around the shaft, and the other rubbing
your balls.  I felt your balls contract, but I was too wrapped up in what I was
doing to register what that meant.  Before I could brace myself, you gave one
last moan of pleasure, and blasted your cum into my mouth.  The first blast
struck me in the back of the throat, and I began to choke as a little went down
my windpipe.  I pulled back, getting my breathing under control, and received
the rest of your load all over my face and tits.
     "Sorry," you said.  "I should have given you a little warning."
     "Don't worry about it.  I'm OK.  I'm washable."  I looked down at the cum
dripping from my left nipple.  "Have you got a kleenex or something so I can
clean up a bit?  Somehow I don't think I should go downstairs like this."
     You started to shake your head, and I jumped a foot in the air (and that's
not easy when you start from your knees) as a voice from the shadows said "How
about a napkin?  You look like you could use one."
     I don't know about you, but I hadn't heard anyone approaching, so it took
me a minute to get my heart to slow to a reasonable speed.  While I was still
trying, the speaker stepped out of the shadows and handed me the napkin.  He had
short, dark hair, and was wearing a tux; obviously an authority of some sort
from the restaurant, if not the maitre d'.  He looked to be in his late
thirties; old enough to be shocked at finding a couple fucking outside his
restaurant, but it was pretty clear that he was anything but shocked.
     "How long have you been watching?" I asked, as I began mopping at my chest. 
"And is anyone else out there?"
     "Well, I don't know how long you've been up here, but I think I caught most
of the show.  If anyone else saw anything, it had to be a building resident. 
I'd just sent the last of the cleaning staff down the elevator, and was about to
lock the doors when I spotted you.  When I saw what you were up to, I grabbed
the napkin and came over to get a better view.  It did look like you were having
fun."
     "I certainly was," you assured him.  "I don't know how many thrills she got
out of it, though.  She generally prefers fucking to sucking."
     I had been counting on you to provide some thrills for me, but it seemed
that I had done too good a job on you.  Your cock was limp, and I could tell it
would take you more than a minute or two to recover enough to try for seconds.
     "It was fun," I assured the stranger, "but I still haven't gotten off.  You
deserve a reward for bringing me a napkin.  Would you like to see if it's as
much fun as it looks like?"  As I spoke, I stripped off my pants and panties,
and piled my clothes on the tile for padding.
     The stranger looked rather startled.  "But what about him?" he said,
nodding in your direction.
     "He's in no shape to do much.  I want a cock in me, and he's not nearly
ready to give me one."
     He still seemed hesitant.  He obviously liked what he saw -- the bulge in
his pants was obvious -- but he pulled his eyes away from me long enough to look
at you.
     "Go ahead," you told him.  "You'd be crazy to pass up an offer like that,
especially from her.  You'll have fun, and so will she.  Seems like a good deal
for everyone."
     "But what about you?"
     "Don't worry about me.  I'm married to her.  I've made love with her more
than a few times, and will again.  You won't be depriving me any.  Enjoy."
     His eyes returned to me.  "OK," he said after a moment.  "If you're both
sure, I'm not going to be stupid enough to pass up the chance."  He stripped
quickly, and then held his clothes out to me.  "You want these?  A little extra
padding never hurts."
     I thanked him, and added them to my clothes.  I settled down on the pile of
clothes, and opened my legs to him.  "I'm ready any time you are," I told him. 
I wasn't kidding either.  Between the excitement of sucking you, the thrill of
trying a new guy, and the added charge of doing it with you watching, I was wet
enough that I probably could have taken John Holmes without extra lubrication --
as long as he took his time.  I wasn't even going to have that much trouble with
our stranger.  His cock wasn't any longer than the average, although it was a
bit thicker.
     He knelt between my legs, and started to slide into me.  I wrapped my legs
around his back, and pulled him all the way in.  "Mmmmmm.  That's wonderful!" he
sighed.  It obviously took all his self-control to look over at you.  "You sure
you don't mind?"
     "Even if I did, I doubt she'd let you loose now.  Have fun.  I can always
take sloppy seconds."
     He turned his attention back to me, kissing my throat, and then began a
long, slow stroke that I matched eagerly.  "Mmmmm," I sighed.
     "Ohhhhh," he responded.  "You're so nice and tight," he whispered in my
ear.  "You feel wonderful."
     "It feels great to have you in me.  It's been a while since I've had
anybody this thick."  He began speeding up his strokes, and I sped up to match.
     I glanced up at you, and saw that the show had charged you back up; your
cock was rock hard again, and you were stroking it.  The stranger was thrusting
hard and fast, and he was obviously about to cum.  I blew you a kiss, and then
returned all my attention to him, tightening my cunt around him.
     "Oh, GOD!" he cried as he came.
     I wasn't nearly that coherent.  I think I cried out something profound like
"Ohh!  Ahh!  Uh, uh, uh, oooooh!" as I came, feeling his cock jerking inside me.
     He slumped forward across me, and my legs fell limp to his sides.  We lay
together for a few minutes as you knelt down next to me and began stroking my
hair.  The stranger looked up and kissed me.  "Thank you.  That was as fun as it
looked."  Looking at you he added "Thank you, too.  I really appreciate it."
     "Don't mention it," we both said simultaneously.  I added, "I had at least
as much fun as you did."
     "I find that hard to believe," he said with a smile, "but I won't argue
with you."  He looked over at you.  "You want me to get out of your way?"
     "Not until you're ready to get up, but yes, I would like a turn."
     "OK," he said, withdrawing from me, and getting to his feet.  "Would you
stand up for a second, sweetie?" he asked me as he picked up the napkin and
wiped his cock off.  I stood, and he scooped up the clothes that had been under
my head and shoulders, adding them to the pile under my butt.  He sat down
behind me leaning against the planter, and gestured for me to sit down, and lean
back against him.
     We shifted position a couple of times, and finally settled down in a fairly
comfortable position.  He was sitting cross-legged with my head in his lap, his
cock warm against my cheek.  He reached down and began to caress my breasts as
you entered me, burying yourself in me with one swift stroke.
     I can't usually cum twice that quickly, but the excitement of having the
both of you was rapidly turning me on again.  I turned my head to the side, and
kissed the stranger's cock, tasting the remnants of his cum and my juices on it. 
He turned my head to face up again, and kissed me deeply.  I felt a surge of
arousal, and began fucking up at you as hard as you were pounding into me.
     You moaned your pleasure as you fired your second cum of the evening into
me, the stranger pinched my nipples, and the extra stimulation pushed me over
the edge.  I screamed my pleasure, fortunately muffled by his lips.  As much fun
as I was having, I didn't really want the whole neighborhood to know what was
going on.  After all they might not let us back up on the roof again!



     Deb and I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as we enjoyed
writing it -- not to mention doing the research!  If you have questions, kudos,
or complaints, I can be reached as Solo Polyphony:

          1) on NixPix Windy City (708-564-1754), or
          2) via Internet at solo-p@holonet.net
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