Gaining a Better Vantage Point - Sex Stories

Gaining a Better Vantage Point

... skinny legs draw my eyes to the little cunt that lies within. My hand moves faster over my cock and I note the precum that is starting to flow. The precum and the sweat from my brow dripping onto my cock lube me up nicely. I feel so alive out here, masturbating in the open! Marcie steps back to the edge of the bed and skinnies out of her thong as she prepares to put on the red bottom of her swimsuit. As she turns I see the little pussy lips appear and then she leans over to step into the suit. My eyes note in a mirror her bald cunt and the tight skin surrounding it. Marcie innocently drops a finger into the little cunt to test whether it's clean enough for the swimsuit. First she sniffs the finger and then tastes it. Satisfied, she sits and begins to get dressed. Unknown to her, I am almost at the peak of my roof and my approaching orgasm. As I await my orgasm's arrival, I spread my legs more and increase the speed of my masturbation, my hand flying over my throbbing cock, the precum flying and splatting on the shingles at my feet. Deciding that I need better viewing for the final stage, I move forward a step, and suddenly my feet trip over the shorts that have dropped and tangled in my shoes. Without warning, I stumble sidewards, falling flat on my fat gut as I croak, "Oh, shit!" Now my story turns for a twist I hadn't planned on. Landing hard on the hot shingles, I begin a fast slide toward the rear of the house, scr****g my cock, balls and legs along the roof as I go. In ...

... my panic I try to imagine a way to stop my descent, but it's like slow motion to me. All I can do is freak out and see the rear edge coming up. I see the gutter edge and think I'll grab it and stiff-arm it and stop. No, I ain't no gymnist or athlete. That didn't work. I slid right up to the edge, clawed for the gutter to stop myself, and amazed myself that I did a perfect hand stand on the gutter for just an instant. It would be beautiful in slow motion replay. Unfortunately, that ain't how it happened. Immediately I went over the edge and slammed backwards against the eaves and the brick of the house and hung for a few seconds before my weak grip failed me miserably. Remember, I push a pencil for a living, not chisel stone. In my freak-out mode I cry out in panic and drop from the gutter two stories into, you guessed it, the fucking rose bushes in the back yard garden, smashing them and mangling them in all ways possible. Landing with a loud thud, the wind is knocked out of me. After several seconds I can breathe again and I am amazed that I am alive and no bones are broken. I only have lots of sc**** marks, tar and shingle material all over my legs and belly and cock and ball and arms, and I've survived the rose bushes pricking my prick. As I laid there trying to figure out what to do next, I hear the side yard gate open, and in rushes 16 year old Marcie from next door, out of breath and looking panicky. "Mr. Gordon, I heard you hollering and saw you fall off the roof! Are ...