Erotic Fiction: Buried Deep
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I gestured with a wave of my hand for Jeremy to walk in before me, holding open the elevator door with my other arm as he walked through the threshold. As I entered behind him, the doors leisurely drifted closed, and I pressed the button for the fifth floor. Jem slipped his hand into mine as the lift began its slow and slightly shaky ascent to the floor of my apartment. Above the door, each floor’s number lit up as we passed it: 1, 2, 3… The elevator stopped.
Jeremy glanced up at the numbers and, when it was clear we weren’t stopping just to let another resident on, his focus turned first to the still-closed doors and then at me.
“Well, shit,” I mumbled. “I guess we’re stuck for now?” Jem sighed, the vague suggestion that we wait it out being spoken as he bent forward to look at the buttons by the door, as if they held the answer to getting us out. There were no speakers to page the superintendent or security, no emergency call button. Is this what I get for living in a building built in the late 1930s? For not taking the initiative to walk up the stairs and get in a sliver of my cardio for the day?
Okay, yes, this was a less than desirable place to be trapped in the heat of mid-summer, but there was something oddly enticing about the situation. After all, how many sensual moments happen on an elevator in the movies? I glanced at Jem and winked. “We could make the most out of this,” I suggested, a mix of nonchalance and a growing desire to take advantage of a quickie.
He smirked. “We could, sure.” A moment of complete silence passed between us before he suddenly had me pinned against the wood-panelled walls, my hands instantly finding his face and lacing through his wavy brown hair.
Between us, Jem fumbled with his belt buckle and then mine, sliding our pants down so that they rested just below our asses — perfect for pulling up in an instant, should the lift come back to life at any given moment. I was bent over the thin rail against the wall when I realized we didn’t have any lube. I heard him spit into his hand before he began stroking the length of his cock, his quiet moaning filling the space and getting me harder by the second. I waited in soundless patience for him as I kept myself steady with my palms flat against the wall.
I could hear the thrumming of my heartbeat, feel the beads of sweat beginning to form on my forehead and trickle — one at a time — down the side of my face. Then, he plunged into me. A small groan escaped my lips, followed by a sharp inhalation. It was more uncomfortable than it might have been with lube, but the thrill of fucking right here in the middle of a broken-down elevator made up for it a hundred times over. I reached down to begin stroking my dick and came in an instant, the cum dripping over my hand. While I was twitching in the final spurts of pleasure, Jem was moving in a rhythmic motion in and out of me, his breathing getting louder and quicker as he leaned his torso against my back, his mouth close to my ear.
As I begged him to keep going, to go deeper, he straightened his back and took me by my hips, thrusting roughly. I cried out, trying in vain to muffle the sound of myself with my arm. Jem slapped my ass, burrowing even deeper into me. So deep, I thought I might tear from the size of him. It burned, it throbbed, but it felt so fucking good. I wanted him to crawl into my body and live there, filling me from the inside, out. I wanted him to swallow me whole. I tried to verbalize these desires, but the only noise that came out was cries of passion.
When a sudden shudder rocked through the lift, Jeremy’s grip on my hips tightened. He grunted as he finished inside me before quickly tucking himself away and zipping up his pants. I fumbled to do the same, my eyes wild with the overwhelming pleasure of orgasm. By the time the elevator began to continue its rickety climb up two more floors, opening up to the hallway of my apartment, I was slick with sweat, hair dishevelled, and my heart beating wildly in my chest.
