The Best View

Rebecca Winter
9 mins read
Published over 3 years ago

He was fiddling with the lock in front of me when my eyes landed on his denim-clad butt for what I feared would be the last time. As we walked into the hotel room, the sweet sound of silence filled our ears and sent our hearts racing. He turned around suddenly and pressed himself into me so hard and fast that the door shut with a bang, causing the entire room to shudder.

Our kisses were enveloped in tenderness - soft lips smiling into each other. But our hands told a different, much more frantic story - pulling and scratching and reaching and rubbing.

“I’m really going to fucking miss you,” he breathed. His thick Australian accent was hot in my ear.

“I know,” I replied. 

Looking into his eyes, my hand glided gracefully, for once, past his belt buckle and into the holy crevice of his cotton briefs. His penis was hard and ready. I moved it between my fingers slowly, relishing his obvious eagerness. Suddenly, his hands were firmly gripped around my wrists, and raised them above my head.

“Don’t move,” he ordered as he lowered himself onto his knees. With his face directly between my legs, he unclasped the button on my jeans, undid the zipper, and pulled my pants off painstakingly slowly.

His lips were an inch away from my black silk panties. He painted my inner thigh with tiny, soft kisses. He brought his mouth to my stomach, biting the bottom of my cashmere sweater. As he rose again,  he very skillfully lifted it up and up using only his teeth, covering my face with the fabric. Breasts exposed, my nipples were pointed and poised.

I couldn’t see him through the fabric, but I could feel the warmth of his mouth hover over my breasts. My own moisture down below surged as he began to play with my clitoris.

As he continued to tease me, our past three weeks together snapped through my mind like falling Polaroid pictures - laughter on the slopes as I tried very unsuccessfully to be a snowboarder, dance-offs until all hours of the night, sun-drenched morning cuddles and kisses, complete with the essential coffee runs…

I knew I would miss him terribly. Certainly much more than anyone who had come before him.


“We’re the one-two-three-four-five-six-seven best friends that anyone ever had!”

Sitting in the hostel kitchen, the three of us whipped our heads around to see who had started the commotion. Four handsome, towering men walked directly toward us. The singer in question made his way straight to me, completely avoiding the other two girls. He put his hand on my shoulder and introduced himself as Housey. We chatted, laughed, and exchanged anecdotes in the casual way that travellers do, comparing notes on the prettiest places, drunken debauchery, and chance encounters.

My attraction to him was instant. And not just for his striking blue eyes, glorious caramel beard, or hip sense of style. I could feel a magnetic pull nestle itself into my heart and draw me inexplicably towards him. His kind, carefree, and somewhat crazy nature was a breath of fresh air.

It was undeniable that fate had brought us together. I don’t usually subscribe to those kinds of thoughts, but after having led the nomadic backpacker life, and all the magic that comes along with it, for so long, there was no denying it. There were too many 'almosts' leading up to this fateful encounter - book a flight to Japan, fly off to Nepal to meditate and trek around Mount Everest, apply for jobs teaching English in Vietnam - that never came to fruition. Because, in the end, it was a call from the lush green mountains and turquoise lakes of New Zealand that won out and beckoned me back.

Following an unbearably long and lonely night in the airport, a cancelled flight and the purchase of a new ticket, I had finally arrived in this stunning little ski town. One quick shower and a bottle of wine later, there I was, basking in the hilarity of this sudden introduction. After a seemingly endless series of trains and planes, bumpy roads, and missed connections, all of my misadventures had aligned perfectly to ensure that I was here for this very moment.

I was practically on the edge of my seat, and so excited to see what would happen next.


“I think I’m going to have to use the L word.”

His face popped up from between my legs. His lips and moustache glistened with the juices of my almost-orgasm while my legs still trembled from his tongue’s teasing.

The L word. I’m not ready for this. Breathe, breathe, breathe. 

While we’d essentially been a couple from the moment we met, and the past three weeks had been a passionate and truly beautiful affair, the L word still seemed daunting to me.

He gently rubbed his finger along my clit, rousing me back to reality. My entire body was on high alert. We hadn’t made it to the bed, or even to the sofa. Instead, we lay completely naked on the shag carpet by the kitchen table, our clothes strewn about haphazardly.

Let’s just say that if any of our friends had opened the door to continue the party we had left prematurely, they would have gotten quite the show.

I couldn’t help but admire the grin on his face and the excitement in his eyes as he stared and stared into me. His hands continued to work their magic, and I spread my legs wider, inviting him to take in more of me.

“You are?” The words came out as two moans. As his fingers slipped and dipped inside of me, the pleasure continued to build, kickstarting the shaking and gasping again.

“Yeah. I just fucking LOVE your vagina,” he said. “I could live down here forever.”

I relaxed instantly. My vagina. Of course, my vagina... The problem was that he had a flight booked back home the next morning, so that “forever” was unfortunately very limited.

“I wish you could, baby.” I tugged on his brown locks and brought his smooth, bearded face towards me. I could taste myself, sweet and pungent, on his lips. We broke apart and I caught his ocean eyes with mine, mirroring his desire. It was clear that the need I felt to cherish our last time together was mutual.

We wrapped our arms around each other, and our bodies heaved towards each other like magnets. The heat from his pale skin sent shivers down my spine, and the feel of his pressing erection excited me. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity, hands gently grazing skin, tongues tenderly touching - losing ourselves in each other. It was a moment of softness, of utmost sincerity.

But I needed him inside me before we risked being interrupted.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. I sauntered over to his suitcase where I knew he kept the condoms.

“Best. View. Ever,” he groaned. I turned around to see him watching my every nude move. There was a wooden end table in the way of the top pocket, and acting on complete impulse, I leaned over it. I firmly planted my knees on the ledge, spread my legs, and placed my hands on the floor, begging him to come to me.

I didn’t have to wait long before I could hear his shuffling from across the room. I didn’t bother to look back as his sighs of anticipation approached me from behind. My breath froze as he dragged his nails all the way down my back and squeezed my bottom.

“This is the hottest thing I have ever seen,” he murmured, taking the condom I had just grabbed from his stash. He was quick to put it on, and holding my hips steadily, he entered me.

I felt him all the way to my belly button. I screamed out with pleasure, my hands taking the heat as he thrusted fast and deep. The movement pushed my body all the way forward, causing the rickety table to rock back and forth with our frenzied fucking. He placed his palms on my ass. Like a cat, I stretched my lower body upwards, pushing myself into his penis, taking more and more of him, as he branded my body with his hands. We were hungry, and dirty, and fierce.

“Baby, I think we’re going to break the table.” His words came out low and throaty. He slowed his pace, his penis still penetrating me, our breath shallow. When he finally slid out of me, I leaned over the table. 

But there was no time to rest. He grabbed a bunch of my lavender locks in his hand, pulling me upright oh-so-swiftly. I fell into him, and he was ready to take my weight. With one hand wrapped around my neck, and the other bracing my stomach, his lips swept over my shoulder. We stood like this for a few moments, naked flesh on naked flesh. His erection pressed against me, begging for more.

“Walk with me,” he whispered, without letting me go. He guided me to the plaid couch where he turned around and brought us both down into a sitting position. His back melted into the plush cushions, and mine swooned into his six-pack. Placing my hand on his taut shoulder for balance, I rose up and brought myself back down ridiculously slowly onto his swollen member, letting every inch of him engulf me. I kept a leisurely rhythm, as we stayed glued to each other. His hands cupped my breasts as I moved into him over and over again. I turned my head and grinned into his panting face. Pressing my lips against his, I felt the passionate perspiration of his beard licking my neck.

I wanted to watch him while we made love, so I did my best to turn my body around and face him with grace. With arms wrapped around his neck and fingers exploring his tangled hair, I straddled him and picked up the pace of our tirade. Up and down I moved over him, clenching my pelvis so I could feel his girth ripple through me. Mischievous eyes locked, our moans grew louder, needier, primal.

Nothing existed outside of this moment - the sensation of his hands twisting around my neck, how deeply satisfied this closeness made me feel. I kissed him, holding his mouth in mine for a long time. I breathed in his breaths as we began to tremble and gasp, our orgasms melting into each other, ecstasy swimming through our veins, as we came and came and came.

I had never experienced anything like that before, this insane and electric synchrony. My limbs vibrated in the fading exhilaration. I leaned back, stretched myself out across the couch, and hung my head off the edge. My heels resting on his shoulders, I exhaled slow and deep.

“I take back what I said before,” he gasped. “This is definitely the best view. EVER.”


We were roused from our post-sex spooning session by the overwhelmingly beautiful pink and purple tie-dyed early-morning sky. The snow-studded mountains were positively majestic in its wake. Sleep still seeping out of our systems, we stared through the glass doors, enchanted by the sight.

He held out his arms to me and I curled myself into his embrace, which I had grown accustomed to, treasuring our final morning moments together,

“How stunning is this?” I wondered aloud, running my hand along the length of his back.

“Not as stunning as you,” he murmured, kissing my eyes, nose, and lips.

“I don’t want you to leave, Housey.” I said softly, trying not to imagine how different this town would be without him.

“Don’t worry, baby. You won’t be getting rid of me that quickly. I’ll come back for you.”

We pulled each other closer, nestling back into the cocoon of the sheets, and I found myself wishing desperately against all odds that I would see him again. And soon.