Hello beautiful people 
Sorry for the long gap, but here's the third and final part of my story. Enjoy! You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.
I felt Jamal take my by the hips; I raised my butt, both hands against the cold glass.
I stood there naked, exposed. Waiting to be fucked.
He entered my slowly at first, allowing me to find my balance. I could feel the care in his hands, even as he firmly gripped my soft, silky skin.
My dark curly hair had almost dried; I brushed it behind, it was still messy and frizzy.
“Fuck me,” I crooned.
Jamal thrust hard, and my entire body quivered; my full breasts hung loose, jiggling for the whole street to see, as Jamal thrust my again and again.
I moaned.
His thick dick felt so good inside my cunt. Yet, my eyes were outside. It was as though Jamal was a proxy for the outside world fucking me; I had surrendered control, but by putting myself out there for the world to see, I was also in control.
Jamal was now thrusting with a steady rhythm. I could feel the wetness of my cunt slide down my thighs.
I stood precariously, as my feet arched with ecstasy.
Jamal’s right hand slid forward, and held my breasts from below.
My breasts were amazingly voluptuous, so they spilled out of Jamal’s even massive hands. Still, he gripped my mammary flesh, which hurt a little but felt so fucking good. His other hand was still at my hip, drawing my closer as he fucked my cunt.
He squeezed my breasts, harder; they momentarily stopped bouncing, even as the thrusts continued.
I let out a loud moan.
The steam from the window was clearing; I was more visible to the world down below.
But Jamal’s dick was taking me to a completely differently world.
No sooner did he let go of my breasts, did they resume bouncing—harder now.
His hand slid down to my cunt and began rubbing my wet mound.
“Yeah,” I moaned.
Jagged mist formed on the cold glass, as I breathed deeper.
Jamal was stoic, silent—he knew that what was getting me off was as much pounding my cunt as it was outside that window.
The only sound that came from him was deep grunts and the sound of huge balls slapping against my mound.
I leaned forward, placing my forehead against the glass, just between my forearms. Jamal placed his other hand on my ample hips, and fucked me with a steady rhythm.
My vision blurred. I strained my eyes to look outside.
I felt the sweat go down my arched back, under my breasts, and on my temples. My hair came forward again, but I didn’t put it back this time.
I looked like a sultry Indian goddess in the sky above; dark, flowing locks of hair, voluptuous breasts with dark brown nipples that shook rhythmically as I was being fucked by a black Greek god from behind.
I was being fucked for the world to see, and I was being fucked because I wanted it.
That thought got my one step closer to climaxing—Jamal’s dick was doing a fabulous job of that anyway.
Could I even call it thinking? It was … instinct. It was consciousness.
I felt a warm pulsing sensation rise from my cunt across my body. My feet arched. I was now bathed in sweat that glistened in the warm light of the bathroom.
“I’m gonna cum,” I said. “Fuck me harder, Jamal.”
Jamal leaned closer, and kissed my back. “Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice a whole tone deeper.
I didn’t know that it was possible to be fucked harder, but Jamal’s thrusts grew stronger, and I found myself leaning against the glass; I had become so hot that my breasts didn’t feel the cold as they rubbed against the glass, smushing against them.
My back was arched fully.
With the next thrust of Jamal’s dick, I felt my orgasm surge though my body. I felt the window shake.
Another thrust, harder this time, and I felt it again.
My knees felt weak; I placed my forearm against the window, and placed my face on it. My other hand was caressing my cunt, which sent one orgasmic surge after another—to my head, to the tips of my finger, my toes, my erect nipples.
Jamal’s gave another final thrust, and came—I felt his cock pulsate as his hot cum flooded my wet cunt and dripped down my inner thigh, mingling with my own juices.
He was hard for a long time, pumping thick, ropey, white, hot cum into me. My cunt walls clenched his cock, feeling the cut of his tip and his throbbing veins.
He took his cock out after what seemed like an eternity and kissed me on the back, and took a few steps back to sit on a bathroom stool.
I stood at the window, still. My dark hair swept over my naked breasts, which were still heaving as I caught my breath.
I turned around and looked at Jamal. His dick was still a bit hard, and still had a little cum on the tip. His massive chest was heaving; the physical exertion was just settling in his body now, as the adrenalin receded.
His hands hung at his sides, and we wore a smile of satisfaction with a mix of wonder.
“Never took you for an … exhibitionist,” he said, after catching his breath.
I tilted my head, and smiled. “I didn’t either,” I said. “It was like looking into a mirror, but more … exhilarating. I felt like I had surrendered, but also that I was in control.”
I picked up my towel and placed it over my shoulders. I rubbed off the sweat on my neck and under and breasts.
I leaned forward and kissed Jamal on his lips, then his chest, and the tip of his cock, sucking the last drop of cum like the thirsty slut I was.
I laughed. “I’ll see you at the café later tonight?”
Jamal put his trousers and shirt back on. “You will,” he smiled, and left, closing the door behind him.
I felt his heavy footsteps on the creaky stairs.
I took the towel off, standing naked yet again, looking outside the window. The crowd had died down, and the church bells outside rang in the distance.
The end.
Sorry for the long gap, but here's the third and final part of my story. Enjoy! You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.I felt Jamal take my by the hips; I raised my butt, both hands against the cold glass.
I stood there naked, exposed. Waiting to be fucked.
He entered my slowly at first, allowing me to find my balance. I could feel the care in his hands, even as he firmly gripped my soft, silky skin.
My dark curly hair had almost dried; I brushed it behind, it was still messy and frizzy.
“Fuck me,” I crooned.
Jamal thrust hard, and my entire body quivered; my full breasts hung loose, jiggling for the whole street to see, as Jamal thrust my again and again.
I moaned.
His thick dick felt so good inside my cunt. Yet, my eyes were outside. It was as though Jamal was a proxy for the outside world fucking me; I had surrendered control, but by putting myself out there for the world to see, I was also in control.
Jamal was now thrusting with a steady rhythm. I could feel the wetness of my cunt slide down my thighs.
I stood precariously, as my feet arched with ecstasy.
Jamal’s right hand slid forward, and held my breasts from below.
My breasts were amazingly voluptuous, so they spilled out of Jamal’s even massive hands. Still, he gripped my mammary flesh, which hurt a little but felt so fucking good. His other hand was still at my hip, drawing my closer as he fucked my cunt.
He squeezed my breasts, harder; they momentarily stopped bouncing, even as the thrusts continued.
I let out a loud moan.
The steam from the window was clearing; I was more visible to the world down below.
But Jamal’s dick was taking me to a completely differently world.
No sooner did he let go of my breasts, did they resume bouncing—harder now.
His hand slid down to my cunt and began rubbing my wet mound.
“Yeah,” I moaned.
Jagged mist formed on the cold glass, as I breathed deeper.
Jamal was stoic, silent—he knew that what was getting me off was as much pounding my cunt as it was outside that window.
The only sound that came from him was deep grunts and the sound of huge balls slapping against my mound.
I leaned forward, placing my forehead against the glass, just between my forearms. Jamal placed his other hand on my ample hips, and fucked me with a steady rhythm.
My vision blurred. I strained my eyes to look outside.
I felt the sweat go down my arched back, under my breasts, and on my temples. My hair came forward again, but I didn’t put it back this time.
I looked like a sultry Indian goddess in the sky above; dark, flowing locks of hair, voluptuous breasts with dark brown nipples that shook rhythmically as I was being fucked by a black Greek god from behind.
I was being fucked for the world to see, and I was being fucked because I wanted it.
That thought got my one step closer to climaxing—Jamal’s dick was doing a fabulous job of that anyway.
Could I even call it thinking? It was … instinct. It was consciousness.
I felt a warm pulsing sensation rise from my cunt across my body. My feet arched. I was now bathed in sweat that glistened in the warm light of the bathroom.
“I’m gonna cum,” I said. “Fuck me harder, Jamal.”
Jamal leaned closer, and kissed my back. “Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice a whole tone deeper.
I didn’t know that it was possible to be fucked harder, but Jamal’s thrusts grew stronger, and I found myself leaning against the glass; I had become so hot that my breasts didn’t feel the cold as they rubbed against the glass, smushing against them.
My back was arched fully.
With the next thrust of Jamal’s dick, I felt my orgasm surge though my body. I felt the window shake.
Another thrust, harder this time, and I felt it again.
My knees felt weak; I placed my forearm against the window, and placed my face on it. My other hand was caressing my cunt, which sent one orgasmic surge after another—to my head, to the tips of my finger, my toes, my erect nipples.
Jamal’s gave another final thrust, and came—I felt his cock pulsate as his hot cum flooded my wet cunt and dripped down my inner thigh, mingling with my own juices.
He was hard for a long time, pumping thick, ropey, white, hot cum into me. My cunt walls clenched his cock, feeling the cut of his tip and his throbbing veins.
He took his cock out after what seemed like an eternity and kissed me on the back, and took a few steps back to sit on a bathroom stool.
I stood at the window, still. My dark hair swept over my naked breasts, which were still heaving as I caught my breath.
I turned around and looked at Jamal. His dick was still a bit hard, and still had a little cum on the tip. His massive chest was heaving; the physical exertion was just settling in his body now, as the adrenalin receded.
His hands hung at his sides, and we wore a smile of satisfaction with a mix of wonder.
“Never took you for an … exhibitionist,” he said, after catching his breath.
I tilted my head, and smiled. “I didn’t either,” I said. “It was like looking into a mirror, but more … exhilarating. I felt like I had surrendered, but also that I was in control.”
I picked up my towel and placed it over my shoulders. I rubbed off the sweat on my neck and under and breasts.
I leaned forward and kissed Jamal on his lips, then his chest, and the tip of his cock, sucking the last drop of cum like the thirsty slut I was.
I laughed. “I’ll see you at the café later tonight?”
Jamal put his trousers and shirt back on. “You will,” he smiled, and left, closing the door behind him.
I felt his heavy footsteps on the creaky stairs.
I took the towel off, standing naked yet again, looking outside the window. The crowd had died down, and the church bells outside rang in the distance.
The end.