The Elevator

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My work occasionally takes me into a certain mixed-use building downtown used as a hangout spot for college students. The ground level has a bookstore and several chain restaurants, and the upper floors contain classrooms and administrative offices for a local college. The basement of this building was leased by the city as a sort of record-keeping facility for old data that predates computer records.

Most people hate going into the office of any department of this city, but I don’t mind this one at all. One reason is that I actually have a pretty good rapport with the notoriously unfriendly staff there. Another reason is that after my work is done, I usually grab a lunch upstairs while pretending to read a book, sitting amongst beautiful college girls, listening to their conversations about class and parties and boys.

I graduated college ten years ago, but I’d like to think that I still look and act relatively young, despite the bit of gray in my hair. I don’t expect anybody to buy the fact that I am a student, but it is still nice to sit for an hour and appreciate the view.

The ratio of females to males must be around 2:1, and they all skew toward to the top of the attractiveness scale. I have a soft spot for mixed or lighter-skinned black girls, latinas, and Indian girls, and they are all who seem to enroll here. I should send the admissions office a gift basket.

Once I sat within earshot of two girls having a conversation over pizza. Both girls were attractive, but one was especially super-model hot. Had she lived in New York or LA, I’m sure Victoria’s Secret would have started recruiting her before she was old enough to drive. Here was a tall, thin girl with an impossibly large chest for her frame, the long, tight spirals of her black hair perfectly teased. If I had to guess, I would say she had an Italian mother and an Ethiopian father, but what do I know? She was great.

Their topic of conversation moved from the fact that both girls were on their periods, to the fact that they both tend to get very horny while on their period. I put my fork down, suddenly wanting to savor the last two bites of my salad.

“It’s like the one time I really want some dick, I can’t do anything with it,” said the should-be model.

“I know, but my guy doesn’t mind this at all, because for like four days I’m just constantly sucking it,” said her friend.

“I’m sure that would be me too, but I’m not with anybody right now I like enough to be doing that.”

“So you won’t, like, casually suck a dick?”

“No way. Nuh-uh. Even though I totally crave the taste of cum right now.”

“Ewww. Haha you are so weird. You should either just suck a dick or kindly ask some dude to jack off on your pizza.”

The girls left shortly after, presumably to go to class. Part of me wanted to follow to see where they went, but the rational part of me said to stay and not go anywhere until my erection subsided. It’s not every day you overhear such a beautiful girl talk about wanting a mouthful of cum. I was fully hard for another ten minutes.

Later that day, with the image of that beautiful girl burned into my mind, I stroked to the fantasy of her gorgeous face inches from my cock, mouth open wide, tongue out, eagerly awaiting my load to satisfy her craving.


I returned to the same building one month later for another research project. Until I walked into the revolving front door, I had forgotten all about the conversation I overheard the last time. But as soon as I smelled the familiar pizza-meets-thai smell of the various restaurants, the image of the tall brown goddess hit me, and a warm, pulsing feeling slowly spread throughout my body, most intensely in the private area. I made a mental note to stop wearing skinny jeans on days I would be going to this building.

Instead of going directly to work, I decided to take a quick lap around the tables of the eating area, hoping to catch my “Ethiopian queen,” which is what I was calling her, knowing it was stupid to assume her ethnicity. She may have been Dominican, or Puerto Rican, or—I digress. She wasn’t there. Nor was she in the bookstore. I saw plenty of gorgeous college girls, dressed for summer, illegal bahis seemingly in a contest to show the most leg or stomach or cleavage, but none as stunning as the girl I saw on my last visit.

I pressed the button for the elevator and waited a moment before the door opened, and a few people walked out. I got on with an older woman who pressed the button for the 12th floor. This elevator was going up! Embarrassed, but not willing to admit my mistake, I also pressed twelve then pretended to check something on my phone.

At twelve, she got out. This was the first time I had ever been in the upper floors of the building. Peeking my head out, I could see a very nondescript hallway with several doors on each side. On the wall opposite the elevator, there was a cork bulletin board with several event flyers pinned. If not for the school logo on a floormat outside the elevator door, I would not have known this was a college campus.

As the door was finally closing, I heard footsteps approaching from around the corner, and a slender brown hand just made it inside before it closed. The door flung open and from the ground up, unbelievably, I saw my girl.

Red Toms, long caramel legs, tiny black shorts, and a thin wild-patterned sweater perfectly hugging her chest, which was not as large as I remembered, but still almost cartoonish on a girl so skinny. Her eyes and much of her face were hidden behind black Ray-Bans, but I knew right away it was her.

I couldn’t speak. Disoriented, my internal organs all seemed to have swapped places. I got out my phone again, looking at nothing.

She reached across me body to press the button for the ground floor. Her hair smelled a bit like coconut. I hate coconut, or shall I say I used to hate coconut. Now I wish to live off nothing but coconut.

I suddenly realized it was probably odd that I was in the elevator without having pressed any buttons. I wanted to press them all, just so we would be forced to stop at every floor so the ride would last seemingly forever. I could not even bring myself to look up at her, but just sharing the same oxygen with this girl was exciting enough.

As the elevator slowly moved down I regained some of my composure. I knew I had to ask her to grab coffee. Or had she had lunch yet? Or maybe I would just make up some class and ask if she was in it. No, that’s dumb, she doesn’t think I’m a student. Or does she?

Suddenly the overhead lights went out and the elevator jerked to a stop. After a second, a light came back on but much dimmer. The elevator remained motionless.

“This building is so fucked up!” the girl exclaimed.

“Is this a normal thing?” I asked.

“This is the second time it happened to me today. Third time this week. It’ll go again in a few minutes.”

“Ah that sucks. It’s kind of scary. I’m sorry”

She didn’t say anything else, but got her phone out of her bag and began furiously texting somebody. We stood in silence for five minutes, then she sighed and slumped down to the floor, removing her sunglasses on the way.

This is some kind of fucked up fantasy cliche, I thought to myself. The stuck-in-an-elevator scenario. How unoriginal. And yet it was very real.

The elevator was an antique, but it was equipped with a phone behind a little brass door. I always wondered about those phones, and who would be on the other end if one felt so inclined to pick it up. As if on cue, the phone began to ring. Being closest, I picked up.


The building manager, Stephen, explained to me that construction workers outside damaged some power lines, and entire city blocks were without power. Though elevators are required to operate in emergency situations, the backup generators at this building were malfunctioning. They were working on the issue, but it could be some time before the elevator was running again.

I explained what was happening to the girl, who was no longer texting and paying full attention to me.

“So how long do you think we’ll be here?” she asked, beyond frustrated.

“I wouldn’t think it’ll be longer than an hour,” I guessed.

I slouched down and sat against the wall opposite her. I told her my name and asked for hers.

“Liyah, illegal bahis siteleri L-I-Y-A-H,” she replied, obviously having repeated the spelling of her name, many times before.

“Well off all the people I could have been stuck in an elevator with today, I’m glad it’s you Liyah.”

Where did that come from? I don’t usually have a forward way of speaking to girls, but somehow being thrust into this real-life fantasy scenario brought out a confidence in me. What did I have to lose? Besides, I knew a few things about her that she didn’t know I knew. For example, I knew it had been exactly four weeks since I was last in this building. If she was on her period then, she was also very likely on it now. Which meant she was insatiably horny.

I knew sex with her was out of the question. I also knew she wasn’t likely to blow a perfect stranger. Even if I can leverage some of my limited knowledge of her into a phone number or makeout session, that would be an incredible way to spend an afternoon.

“Do you go to school here?” she asked.

“No, I finished school a few years ago,” I said. “I am now working as a journalist. I occasionally go down to the record room in the basement for research.”

“So why were you on the 12th floor?”

“I had a hunch. Didn’t want you to have to wait this one out alone.”

That got a genuine smile out of Liyah. We talked for several more minutes, not having an incredible amount in common, but having pleasant conversation anyway. She wanted to be a fashion designer, like everyone else at her school. She didn’t have a boyfriend.

Half an hour must have passed, and Liyah removed her sweater, revealing a tight, heather gray camisole with a bit of lace at the top. If it was black, or made of different material, it would have seemed like lingerie. The majority of her perfectly round, golden-brown breasts were now out there. She took a deep breath, as if finally able to breathe, and I watched her majestic chest rise and fall. She had to know this would drive me crazy.

“It is rather hot in here, isn’t it?” I said, feeling I had to acknowledge the presence of her skin. I could feel the swelling start in my jeans, and I suddenly wished I could take them off. They were already too tight with a flaccid me, so there was no room for the full-sized guy to show up now. Not to mention the heat. I needed to be free. I casually unbuttoned the top button of the fly and left it like that for now.

“If this was a movie, we’d be fucking, wouldn’t we?” she said, more like a statement than a question.

Holy shit. Was this going to happen?

“You may be right,” I replied. “But I consider myself lucky already just because you took your sweater off.”

Where was this shit coming from? Who am I?

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“Really? I’m afraid that if I tell you any more you’ll be creeped out.”

“Go on…”

“Well, it’s just…you’re incredibly gorgeous. If you made eye contact with me longer than ten seconds I would explode.”

“Haha. Really? Let’s try it.”

Her gorgeous green-brown eyes stared deep into mine. Her smile slowly faded into a sort of pout. Then she began licking her lips in a flagrantly sexual way. I was completely erect, and knew there was no turning back now.

“Look, Liyah. I don’t want you to freak out, but I am super hard, and I have to open my pants or I literally might die.”

“Go ahead,” she said, not skipping a beat. “I want to watch you stroke it.”

Before she finished her sentence, I undid the rest of the buttons on my fly, and peeled back my jeans and boxers as my penis flung upward as if spring loaded. Even I was impressed by the size of this raging monster in front of me.

“Are you serious?” I asked. Not waiting for an answer, I began squeezing my balls a bit, then slowly started stroking from the base to the tip of the shaft with my fingers.

“Oh fuck,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t fuck you right now because of…girl stuff…but that looks so fucking good.”

“That’s fine…I’m perfectly happy right now.”

“Just tell me before you cum, okay?”

She was now rubbing her clit around the thin fabric of her shorts, watching me jerk my dick, her ass gyrating clockwise canlı bahis siteleri on the elevator floor as she worked. I wanted to feel her incredibly tight body against mine. I wanted to be engulfed by her pink pussy. I wanted to run my cock between her tits, and I so badly wanted it deep inside her mouth. I thought about all of these things, in that order, as I continued to pull on my dick, sensations building up to what I knew would be a most spectacular orgasm.

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” she whispered, the words instantly triggering the desired response in my body. “I want to taste it so bad.”

I got up to my feet and stood above Liyah, her legs still spread apart beneath me, hand pressed against her crotch. Liyah’s beautiful eyes locked with mine as she tilted her head back, her eager smiling mouth now wide open. She let out her long, pink tongue, cupped at the end as if to be able to more appropriately receive my load.

“Please give it to me,” she said, but I was already firing away.

The first blast was an overshot, a thick white glob landing on her upper lip and nose. I realigned the next several pumps and sent rope after rope of hot semen directly into her mouth and onto her tongue. I was still ejaculating when she wrapped her lips around the tip of my penis and continued jerking my dick for me.

My orgasm must have lasted a full minute, with the most cum I have ever produced filling up her mouth and sliding down her throat. She swallowed several times, then finally pulled away, swallowing once more, then opened her mouth to breathe as the rest of my fluids poured out the corners of her mouth, running down her chin, then dribbling onto her chest below. It was a mess.

She took me in her mouth once more, sucking my tip like a straw, pulling out every last drop of sperm I had produced.

I crashed to the floor, completely spent, dizzy from the insane release I just experienced. Liyah curled up into a fetal position, breathing heavily while facing away from me. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

“I am such a slut,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Not at all,” I consoled. “I think we both needed that.”

“Thanks for lunch anyway,” she joked.

After several more minutes, the phone again rang, and I answered. Stephen asked if we were doing okay, then explained that the utility company would have power going within the next ten or fifteen minutes. I relayed this to Liyah, who was now sitting up, using her sweater to wipe the mess off of her chin and chest. A bit of cum remained on her upper lip, which she deftly collected with her tongue, swallowing after she was finished.

“Do you want to really go get lunch after this?” I asked, not wanting to let this flawless new companion of mine get away.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she said flatly. “I do have a boyfriend, and I don’t think I can ever see you again. I would appreciate if you pretended this never happened.”

I thought about what she said for a few seconds. I wasn’t delusional enough to think I suddenly had a new girlfriend. A perfect ten and perfect stranger just swallowed my load in an elevator, and I should be grateful enough to accept that this couldn’t happen again.

“That’s okay, honestly,” I said. “You’ve given me something to remember for a long time.”

The elevator lights got brighter again, and the car slowly began its descent to the ground floor. We both stood up in silence and faced the door. Stephen and a few other building staffers were there to greet us as the doors opened. Liyah pushed past them without acknowledgement and escaped through the revolving door back into the crowded hot city.


I relived this day in my head several times over the next few years, masturbating to this memory almost exclusively. It’s an anomaly in that it wasn’t exactly a sexual experience. I didn’t penetrate Liyah. I didn’t get a blowjob or even a handjob really. At most she had her lips around the tip of my penis for only a few seconds. Essentially my favorite memory to masturbate to is an incident of me masturbating.

Yet it is an image I will never forget: One of the most gorgeous girls on the planet, graciously accepting my load into her smiling mouth, the creamy white cum dripping out her mouth onto her chin and the gorgeous bronze skin of her breast.

I visited this building as often as I could for months, but never did see Liyah ever again.

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