When the waves finally slowed, she sagged forward — forehead resting on the cool metal railing, panting, trembling, tears of pure overwhelmed humiliation streaking her cheeks.
I stood slowly behind her, cock throbbing painfully hard against my jeans.
Still spread open. Still gaping. Still glistening with my spit.
I leaned over her back, lips against her ear.
"Good girl. Now turn around… we're not done showing the city what a perfect little exhibitionist whore you are."
She whimpered — half sob, half desperate moan — but didn't fight when I started to turn her.
"Sí… Jack… make me worse… but… but if someone really sees… promise you'll hold me after…"
I smirked against her neck.
"Always, baby. Always."
I didn't let her catch her breath.
The second her orgasm faded, and her legs turned to jelly, I spun her around, grabbed her by the waist, and lowered her onto the cold concrete balcony floor right in front of the railing. Her back hit the hard surface with a soft thud.
