Sinful Sunday: Balcony

I’ve been lucky enough to live in some great apartments/houses over the last 10 years, and there are things I miss about each of them.

There was the enormous bed, skylight window, and beautiful garden at the converted farmhouse I shared with three friends in the Oxfordshire countryside. After that, I had a comfy sofa and big bedroom in my Jericho flat just outside Oxford’s city centre, with the added bonus of great pubs and restaurants just a short walk away.

When I first lived on my own I loved the peace and quiet of the living room I no longer had to share, and the super-fierce shower that stripped off half my skin each morning, leaving me ready to face the day. Most of all I appreciated the silence I’d come home to a few hours later, and the sudden freedom I had to enjoy it.

Warsaw? Well, you know about Warsaw. There was the L-shaped sofa that felt molded to my body shape by the time I left. The fireplace, criminally underused but always so ridiculously cosy when I could be bothered to stack it with logs. And there was that balcony…that fucking glorious balcony…

When I think about the things I’ll miss after I leave my current flat, the balcony doesn’t really feature – not yet, anyway. I’d be more sad if I had to say goodbye to my bed, or to the wooden table at which I’m writing this post. I’m pretty sure that’s because I didn’t make the most of it last summer. Sure, I had a couple of BBQs, when the lousy weather relented for a day or two, and I often leaned against the railing late at night with just a glass of wine and my own brain for company, but for the most part it’s still felt like a bit of an afterthought.

And look, it’s a great balcony! You’ve got Upper Street a stone’s throw to the right, Canary Wharf out between the buildings to the left, a pretty old church directly ahead – if you have any sort of soul, there’s really no way you can fail to enjoy the view. I guess I just haven’t created enough memories out there.

Maybe this summer will be different. Maybe the sun will shine…and if it does, I won’t let it go to waste. I want to feel the creeping warmth on my skin as I brace myself against the railing and look down at someone sucking my cock, her bare tits glistening with sweat. I want to run out there laughing, late at night, buzzed and horny, ready for the sort of sex they’ll hear three streets away, without any idea where it’s coming from.

I want to take advantage of the fact that it’s just hidden enough. Anyone in the buildings around mine could see what goes on there, and even from the street it wouldn’t be hard to figure it out, but either way you’d have to be looking directly at us…without turning away. You’d have to want to watch – which is obviously really hot.

It’s early May now, but the temperature should hit 25 degrees later today, and with a bit of luck that’ll only be the start of things. I don’t know when I’ll leave this flat and find somewhere new; whenever it is though, I fully intend to make my balcony one of the happy memories I take with me.