Ebony Panther's recent post reminded me of some elevator-related stories of my own. The thing is, I've never lived anywhere where elevators are a common thing. I don't do cities, really; not my scene at all. Basically, the times I've been in elevators can all be boiled down to two essential lobes of the same story: hotels, and college.
You may be thinking to yourself, "College?" No, our dorms didn't have elevators. The place I lived in only had two stories. Very low-tech. Of course, Mike's college has lots of elevators, so maybe you weren't thinking, "College?" but rather, "Of course, college, duh." My college only had one elevator, and it was a freight elevator that went from the ground floor to the top floor of the theater building. One was only supposed to use it to carry freight. I won't deny that it was used for other things.
At a certain point, I had keys to everywhere, and I could be in the building at 5 in the morning and no one would notice. I was often alone in the theater. Had some good times hanging out backstage too, but I'll try to remember to tell those a different time, because I'm actually getting ahead of myself.
The first time I did anything naughty in an elevator was when the family was staying a hotel somewhere, I forget where, and I honestly forget why. It was a nicer hotel than we normally booked for some reason, had many floors, and so there was an elevator. Several, actually.
Now, Mike and I always viewed hotels as a challenge. When we were young, we'd jump on the beds, something verboten in our own house. After we were able, we'd try to mess up the beds in other ways. Looking back on it, it was pretty horrible; we're the people who left those stains they show on CSI. But at the time, we enjoyed not having to worry about cleaning things up. I guess we're not alone in our use of hotels for that purpose.
This hotel had a swimming pool, and since Mike and I both love to swim, we used the hell out of that pool. I don't remember either Sheri or Mari being there, which is why they aren't in this story. Sorry gals. Anyway, the pool was too public to try anything in, which just made it harder to keep off each other. We'd sneak gropes underwater, wrestle, all those sorts of things, and by the time we were finished we were both raring to go. If it had been a secluded pool, we would have been naked and just fucked, but as it wasn't, we decided to head back upstairs.
It was late, very late, because Mike and I were both night owls, and the pool was open 24/7. And our room was on a high floor. No one was around; I don't even know if the night clerk was around. We were all set to ride the elevator as quickly as possible up to our room so we could get out of our bathing suits and into each other. No one on the elevator either. And I think we both had the same idea at the same time. It was one of those moments where you both look at one another and grin and know you're thinking the same thing.
Mike hit the door-close button, then hit the top floor. Then he pulled the waist of his trunks down, and out bobbed his cock. Unfortunately for us, there were signs posted which said that stopping the elevator was illegal and would sound an alarm and so on, and maybe it was true. At least the elevator moved slowly, and there were a fair number of floors. We rode up to the top of the building in style, me on my knees sucking his cock, him manning the buttons. When we hit the top floor, he let the doors open a fraction, then punched the door close button, hit the first floor button again, and said, "I bet we can get off by the time it gets back down."
It didn't work out that way. I hopped up and leaned in next to the button panel, he got behind me, slipped my bottoms out of the way, and slipped his cock up into me in a rush. I came before we hit the first floor again, was still cumming a little when Mike pulled out, adjusted himself, and waited for the door to open a fraction, then closed it and pressed the top floor button again. Up we went (I wonder what security thought; probably joyriding kids, which wasn't far from the truth), his cock slipped back into me, and he was on the verge of cumming when we hit the top floor. So on the verge, in fact, that the doors opened on the top floor and neither of us cared to close them until they went by themselves. I wonder if we would have stopped if someone had been there. Possibly not.
We let the car sit there while we finished up, then rode down to our floor, hopped out, raced back to the room, and had a second, very nice helping of blowing off steam. The whole thing had invigorated us. Later, we talked about maybe going out late at night and pressing all the buttons, just fucking on each floor, risking being seen by someone. We never did that, which is too bad in a way.
So then, later, I went to college, and there was the elevator, and I had access to it whenever I wanted, and I remembered having had so much fun in the elevator. Not that I couldn't have fun in other places, but the elevator seemed naughtier than most of them somehow. It really wasn't; late at night, only me in the building, I could stop the elevator mid-floor and it was like a closet with a lock on it. Still, I took advantage of my position of privilege, which is okay because I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.
The time I recall in particular was a booty call, in fact. I had seen this guy, off and on, for a while, nothing serious, just both of us looking for the occasional fuck. And we both enjoyed sightseeing (for that, read "fucking in various places around campus"); we'd fucked in all sorts of out-of-the-way places. He was a musician, so he could get us into the recording studio, and I was in the theatre, so I could get us into the theater building. One night, I was walking by the elevator on my way home from working late; the place wasn't totally deserted, but close. I saw the door to the elevator and felt naughty, so I hopped in even though I didn't need to use it, pressed the button, and on the ride up remembered past elevator escapades to the point that I got my hand down my pants and was stroking when the elevator reached the first floor (there were only three: basement, first, second). Fortunately no one was there, and the door wasn't the kind that automatically opened anyway. I sat in the elevator, creamed my panties, then wanted more, and was almost set to rush home and see if Gwen was around when I thought of my sightseeing friend. I went and grabbed the phone, gave him a call, hoping against hope, and thank God, he picked up right away.
It was the work of a moment to tell him to get his ass over to the theater and meet me by the elevator. I don't think he knew what was up, but he knew sex was in the offing, so he rushed over. I pointed to the elevator, practically dragged him in, sent it down, hit stop, and then said, "Get naked, now," or words to that effect, and started shucking my own clothes. It's testament to his willingness that he didn't bat an eye.
The floor was dirty, so we could only fuck standing up. He took me from behind, hard and fast, just like I needed, but we got tired of that position, so I let him slip out of me, pressed the Go button, ignored his questions, and we rode down to the basement. I hopped out, naked and glistening with sweat, took a look around, then ran giggling over to the prop closet, grabbed a blanket, then ran back to the elevator while he was still standing there looking shocked. I spread it out on the floor, closed the door, pressed the button, stopped us, then lay back and spread my legs.
If I had been him and not really known that I was the only person in the basement, I might have looked like him for a few minutes too. He had this gape to his eyes, even after he recovered himself enough to get down and stick it in again. I credit that eye-gape with making him last longer; nothing like a good brain-fuck to take the edge off a guy. No, only kidding; I'm not that cruel. I didn't expect him to be quite so surprised. Still, he got back into it, and a few minutes later splashed a giant load into me. We lay there for a while, both trying to figure out if it was worth the discomfort to go again, but eventually we pulled enough clothes on to be decent, put the blanket back in storage (I didn't even check for stains, naughty me) and by silent agreement went to find someplace more upholstered.
I haven't had elevator sex since I left college, which is too bad, because it really is naughty. Not comfortable necessarily, but naughty. But then I haven't been in an elevator with someone who would be open to that in forever either. My current elevator fantasy is to pick up a stranger on the elevator, but I doubt I'd have the balls for that. Still, I can think about it. I'd love to take Sveta on an elevator, get my head up under her dress and eat her out while riding up or down. I'd really love to be a sexy elevator operator, riding up and down, giving rides to my passengers. Now that's a sexy fantasy. Never seen that in porn. The bellhop-type uniform lends itself to sexy too. I bet there's Japanese porn of this; they still have elevator operators, I think.
