For the past weeks she had taken the long way home. The shorter would have her home half an hour earlier, but Libby didn’t care. She needed to see it every day, to smell the freshly mixed concrete combined with the sound of the plastic sheets that gave the builders some protection from the wind. As she approached the building, it surprised her that there was no activity going on. Then she realized: building season ended on Friday, and starting today, there would be no building going on for the next six summer holiday weeks.
Libby stood in front of the half-finished building for several minutes, looking up to the tenth floor, where the builders had stopped and back down to the first. There was no smell of fresh concrete today, but she heard the sound of the thick, fluttering plastic sheets. The improvised gates around the building were closed. Libby spotted the one small space where two parts of the gate gave way from each other. Instinctively, after having looked up and down the street for a brief second, Libby pushed her body through the opening and quickly walked to the unfinished building.
Her heels softly sounded on the concrete. Almost to the middle of the structure were stairs leading upward. Concrete stairs. Her feet carried her there as if she had no will. She slowly climbed the stairs to the first floor, then the second. On every floor she stopped and looked at the sides of the building. There were no outside walls yet. It scared and excited her at the same time. On the fifth floor she stopped. Her hand ran along the cold concrete of the rough inner wall. She crouched down and traced the lines in the concrete of the floor. The smell of concrete filled her nostrils and pooled the wetness between her legs.
Libby climbed the stairs to the ninth floor. She was as high as the stairs would take her. Again Libby touched the cold inner wall. She leaned in closer and sighed as the coldness of the wall kissed her cheek. Libby’s nipples hardened and pressed against the thin fabric of her strapless summer’s dress. She sighed, pulled the front of her dress down to her waist and pushed her naked tits against the rough concrete. It hurt slightly, but it only helped to excite her more. Behind her the plastic fluttered in the wind, but she paid no attention to it. Libby had been fantasizing about this building ever since the construction had started.
She pushed her dress down further and her panties with it. The fabric fell down to her ankles. Libby tried to press as much of her body against the wall. She arched her back and moved her body up and down the wall, leaving red lines on her white skin. The wall wasn’t that cold anymore. Libby turned around on the same spot and now pressed her back to the wall, tighter than she did the front. Her hand disappeared between her legs, where she cupped her sex while her body slowly slid down. She bent her knees, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged. She stopped moving when her knees were full bent. Her back was on fire, her hand still covering her sex. Her pussy lips were open and her wetness leaked from her.
Libby moved her fingers through her own wetness and found the hard nub at the top of her slit. She turned her head and pushed the side of it against the wall. Her fingers moved over her button. Her mouth was open; her eyes still closed. Her breathing was heavy, her moans soft. The wall bit into her tender back, leaving tiny wounds on it. Two fingers disappeared into her cunt. Her wetness was audible. The pace of her movements increased. She fucked herself with two fingers, moaning louder. Fingers moved back to her clitoris, rubbing hard. Her free hand clutched a breast, squeezed. Libby moaned. The line between pain and pleasure faded. It became one. Breathing in deeply, she smelled the concrete and climaxed.
Several seconds after her orgasm, Libby stayed in the same position. One hand covered her sex, feeling the orgasmic spasms slowly disappearing, her other hand slowly let go of her breast. Libby breathed in once more and opened her eyes. She winced as she straightened up, her back raw and tender. Libby bent at the waist to hoist up her panties. A wet spot immediately formed on the dark red fabric.
It was only when she had her dress back on that her eye caught movement to the right. The man that had been watching her every day as she walked by the building site, stood there, quietly looking at her. It seemed appropriate that he had watched her. Libby blushed, smiled at him and turned to walk down the stairs as if nothing had happened. She would return in the coming weeks, and just maybe he would watch her when she fucked the building again.
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The Kink of the Week is Brutalism/Concrete and this is what Charlie of Sex Blog (of Sorts) said about it:
The ‘brutal’ in ‘Brutalism’ comes from the French ‘brut,’ meaning ‘raw.’ And that’s exactly the kind of sex that concrete and Brutalist architecture conjures up for me. It makes me dream of dark corners and shadows, of fucking strangers, of skin grazing rough surfaces, of being forced …
Concrete is, essentially, as far from the warmth and comfort of a bed as you can get, and I wonder if that’s part of the appeal. It’s the perfect backdrop to fantasies that are equally rough and shadowy.
Being forced definitely sounds interesting and being forced in a building that is still under construction, seems even more appealing. However, this time for Kink of the Week I allowed my fantasy to come out and play…
© Rebel’s Notes
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