As I walked through London the other day, I happened to wander past the back of the Z Hotel, which looks out onto the Charing Cross end of Old Compton Street in Soho. The Z is one of a few places dotted around the city that never fails to make my cock twitch when I see it; along with pubs like The Harp and The Dickens, clubs like Candy and Heaven, and too many restaurants to list here, it was the scene of a particularly hot encounter, back in 2011, which I’m going to write about today.
She was an American living and working in London, running the Study Abroad programme for one of the big East Coast schools. Let’s call her Erin. Erin was tall, dark-haired, and very striking: big red lips, big tits, and a big arse, with curves in all the right places above and below it. We’d got chatting a couple of weeks beforehand, as the only two people sitting without partners in the waiting room before a late-night train. She was a few years younger than me, and incredibly open and friendly, in the way that visiting Americans tend to be; as we went our separate ways she gave me her number and suggested meeting up for a drink the next time I was back in town.
Well, the drink happened a few days later, and was accompanied by sweaty teenage levels of heavy petting, in the corner of a nondescript London boozer. It quickly became clear that Erin was looking for an adventure. She told me that most of her relationships back home had been very conventional and strait-laced; that there were all these things she fantasized about, but had never been in a position to try. Things like sex in public; like power play and role-reversal; like flogging, and anal, and toys, and threesomes, and…
With every new fantasy or fetish I coaxed out of her in the pub that afternoon, Erin got more and more turned-on, and eventually, just as she started talking about how good it would feel to have three or four guys take it in turns to fuck her, she gasped and came hard all over my fingers.
We agreed to meet again the following week. I had to spend a couple of nights in London for work, and the plan was to go out and have fun in Soho, before heading back to my hotel room to do some of the things she’d got so aroused by in the pub. Before that though, some shopping was required. We agreed a budget of £75, and I sent Erin off to one of the bigger London sex shops to use it as she saw fit. After a flurry of text messages, and a few suggestions on my part, she settled on a leather cock-ring, a flogger, a large butt plug, an even larger dildo, and a roll of bondage tape, all of which she was instructed to bring along with her.
Of course even the best-laid plans rarely unfold in the way you expect them to. I’d chosen the Z Hotel because it was central, had good reviews, and was offering a two-night deal that dropped the price well below the eye-watering London average. What I only discovered after checking into my first-floor room was that the back half of the hotel looked out onto Old Compton Street, home to some of the busiest, seediest, sexiest bars and clubs in London; not only that, but the bed sat right next to the low, wide window, and was visible both to passersby in the street below, and to any curious diners or residents in the restaurants and apartments opposite. Sitting there and looking out at the world felt like being a mannequin in a shop window, or a puppet in a seaside Punch & Judy show: as long as the curtains were pulled back, I was on display, framed perfectly for the whole of Soho to see.
It was November, so by the time Erin arrived at the hotel after finishing work it was dark outside, with only the garish neon signs above the gay bars and sex shops standing out against the gloom. I’d already told her about the window, and as I opened the door to the room she pushed past me, eager to take a look for herself. I joined her on the bed, and we gazed down at the street together, then across into one of the second-floor flats on the other side of the road, where a naked man was leaning casually against the wall, talking on his mobile. Erin quickly stripped down to her underwear, then started yanking at my clothes: first my t-shirt, then the button-fly of my jeans, her fingers clumsy but eager, till she was able to pull them down and off, along with the boxers below. We kissed, my cock pressed hard against her stomach as she lay on top of me, then she took me in her mouth and spent a few minutes backing up everything she’d told me about her oral skills over the previous couple of weeks.
As Erin sucked me, I lay back against the pillows and wondered how much was visible from outside. The top half of my body would be hidden from view, but I was sure that anyone looking up, across or down into our room at that point would be able to see her kneeling over my cock, her tits resting on my thighs and her mouth and hand sliding up and down the hard shaft. Right at the point when I was really starting to squirm, Erin sat up and glanced to her left. Her cheeks flushed, and when she spoke it came out as a whisper, even though no-one else was close enough to hear her.
“That guy in the flat opposite…he’s watching us. And I think he’s jerking off.”
I stayed quiet and put my hand over hers, waiting to see how she felt about that idea. I didn’t have to wait long. Erin moved my hand away and pinned it down on the mattress next to her. She reached for a condom and after rolling it down my cock she sat astride me and started to draw it inside her, each tilt of her hips causing another inch or so to split her open. When there was no more left for her to take, she locked her thighs tight in against my body and lent back, twisting her head so that she could look directly at whoever was watching us, while giving him the perfect view of her tits. I jammed my finger onto her clit as she rode me, applying the pressure that she’d said was the key to getting her off quickly; I wanted her to come like that, with the length of my cock inside her and her body on full display to the world.
Her orgasm was short and intense: Erin would later describe it to me as a bright, jagged lightning-fork of pleasure, rather than the slow, rolling rumbles of thunder she was used to. She dug her nails into my shoulders hard, then again, even harder, till I took a fistful of her hair and forced her round, onto her knees. I reached for the flogger she’d bought, and flicked it against her arse. She flinched almost before the leather bit into her, but after a couple of experimental lashes had cascaded across her skin, she thrust her arse back towards me and said the one word I was waiting for: “more”.
I didn’t even bother to count the number of times I drew back the flogger and whipped her round, red arse over the next few minutes. At some point, about halfway through, I lubed up the fat butt plug and squeezed it inside her, making a big show of it and telling her a story about the man watching us. I told her that he got off on watching innocent young women getting corrupted and used. As I secured her wrists to the end of the bed with the bondage tape, I told her that I was going to leave her like that in the window, whipped, plugged, and helpless, while I went and rounded up a handful of guys in the local bars to take it in turns with her. As I slid the head of my cock inside her cunt again, suddenly aware how tight she was with the butt plug still filling her arse, I asked her whether she wanted me to find someone with a video camera, to stand in the doorway opposite and film them using her holes.
Erin screamed when I fucked her like that; screamed till I shoved her knickers in her mouth and pinned her upper arms tight against the bed. I don’t know how many people saw me do that. I don’t know whether the couple I caught out of the corner of my eye, sitting in the bay window of one of the neighboring flats, were having a casual conversation about what to do that evening, or were touching themselves under the window ledge at the sight of us going at it. I know what I told Erin, and how hard she clenched around me when she came, and again when I lost control, deep inside her.
And I know what happened after that, when I was the one naked and taped up in the window. After all, Erin’s a filthy little switch, and so am I. Who did you think the big dildo was for…?