Every day for the past few weeks, she had taken the long way home. The shorter one always got her home 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, giving the builders some protection from the wind.
On this Monday, as she approached the building, it surprised her there was no activity going on. Then she realized: building season had ended on Friday. For the next six summer holiday weeks, the construction site would be empty.
Libby stood across the street from the half-finished building for several minutes. She looked up at the tenth floor, where the builders had stopped working, and back down to the first. There was no smell of fresh concrete today, but the sound of the thick, fluttering plastic sheets sent a shiver down her spine. She looked at the improvised fence around the building. The closed gate didn’t look inviting until Libby spotted the one small space where two parts of the gate gave way to each other.
She hesitated for only a moment. Libby crossed the street, turned her head to both sides to check for other people, and then quickly forced her body through the opening in the gate. She almost ran to the unfinished building, excitement surging through her body.
Inside the construction, her heels softly sounded on the concrete. Almost to the middle of the structure, stairs led upward.
Her feet carried her there as if she had no will. Slowly, she ascended 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 on the concrete floor. The smell filled her nostrils and pooled the wetness between her legs.
Libby climbed the stairs all the way to the ninth floor. This 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. Her 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 excited 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 all of her body against the wall. She arched her back and moved her body from side to side against the wall. Red lines appeared on her thighs and her tummy, and the harsh concrete broke the skin on her nipples.
The wall warmed under the heat of her body.
Libby turned around in the same spot and now pressed her back to the wall. Tight and hard. 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. Libby stopped moving when her knees were full bent. Her back was on fire, her hand still covering her sex. Her pussy lips opened, and wetness leaked from her core.
Libby dipped her fingers inside, then found the hard nub at the top of her slit. She turned her head and pushed her cheek against the wall, moving her fingers over her clit. Her heavy breathing sounded ragged through her open mouth. Soft guttural moans escaped her throat.
The wall bit into her tender back, leaving her with tiny wounds and the wall with specks of blood. Two fingers disappeared into her cunt.
The squishy sound of her fluids gave away her lust.
The pace of her movements increased. She fucked herself, moaning louder. Fingers moved back to her clitoris, rubbing harder. Her free hand clutched a breast, squeezed. Libby moaned. The fine line between pain and pleasure faded and became one.
Breathing in deeply, the concrete smell once more filled her nostrils, and she climaxed.
Libby stayed in the same position for several seconds, one hand covering her sex, feeling the orgasmic spasms slowly disappearing, and the other slowly letting go of her breast. She breathed in once more and opened her eyes. A grimace of pain shot across her face when she straightened up. Her back was raw and tender.
Libby hoisted her panties, where 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 who had been watching her every day as she walked by the construction site — the project manager — quietly looked at her. It seemed appropriate 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 maybe — just maybe — he would watch her again when she fucked the building.
This story was first published in December 2015, when I heard about the term ‘brutalist architecture‘ and learned to some this is a source of sexy inspiration.
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay