Elevator Malfunction

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I live in an apartment building, and it has an elevator, and although I sort of don’t like closed spaces, I usually use the elevator because it is convenient and because I want to get over this sort of phobia I have about small spaces. I live on the sixth floor, so using the stairs is totally practical, and a good way to stay in shape.

So today I get on the elevator to go to work, and it stops on 4 and an old guy gets on. I had seen him before and assumed he lived in the building, but didn’t know his name and had never really spoken to him.

The elevator starts down and almost instantly bounces to a stop and a light goes on at the panel. And the overhead lights go off. The emergency light is enough to make out shapes, and I don’t panic… but the old guy says something like “whoops” and I realize he is trying to make me feel comfortable being stuck in an elevator.

We stand silently for about a minute and he says, “Well this hasn’t happened before in the 7 years I have lived here… have you been here longer?”

“No, I moved in about 2 years ago. A first for me, I have never been in a stalled elevator before. But I have read stories about power failures. Do you know how to contact someone, or what to do?”

“Not really, but we can probably figure it out together.” I generally like older men, and he seemed to be going out of his way to not ‘talk down’ to me, which I appreciated.

He started reading the instructions on the red phone box above the control panel, and opened it and took out the phone. Someone had cut the phone cord, and the phone itself looked to be very old- a “dial” phone and not the more recent redesign.

“Well”, he laughed, “this may make it a little harder to contact anyone, but they surely must know what is going on- and if they don’t, lots of people use this elevator and someone will report it is not working.”

I mentally agreed, but said nothing. I was glad I had peed before heading out to work, and I hoped he had also- just like me to be “practical”, but just in case I looked in my purse and found a zip-lock bag that might work as a sort of toilet if either of us needed it.

“I’m going to make some noise, if that’s OK with you- just in case nobody has figured it out yet.”

I was feeling strange, the small space and this large old man, twice my size at least, and something about him seemed to “bother me”. He was so pleasant, and so friendly, it seemed as if he were treating me as an old friend, not a stranger. Despite the dark, I could now see quite well and he seemed to be “presentable”, about the age of one of my dad’s friends probably, Ankara travesti or maybe even older.

He started yelling, using a deep voice- not his speaking voice- and it sort of “got to me” in the sense that I held very still as he “roared”. Was this an animal reaction to his maleness? despite his advanced age?

He also pounded on the door and eventually found a place that seemed to resonate very loud. Then he would stop and listen. Eventually we heard some voices, and by listening very carefully, I heard someone yelling, “Everything’s OK but it will take a while.”

He had not heard that, so I told him what I thought they had yelled. He thanked me and suggested we sit down and wait, because “although it will only be a few minutes, we might as well rest while we wait”.

He sat down on his side of the elevator, his back against the back of the car- and for some reason I stepped across and sat right next to him, almost as if I were cold and needed to be warmed up. But I wasn’t cold. But I realized that I did want him to put his arm around me, and reassure me.

Instead, he looked a little surprised, then asked, “Are you OK? Are you still worried?”

I said NO, but revised that to “not much, but maybe a little.” He asked if I wanted a hug, and waited for me to say “that would be nice”. His arm seemed huge as it wrapped around me, and gave me a gentle hug, then just stayed there- as if he were keeping me warm by a campfire. And although it wasn’t really cold in the elevator car, it was cool, and as we had not been moving around much, his arm did feel good. I snuggled next to him, but didn’t realize how natural that felt until had done it… and wondered if he thought I was trying to get “more attention”. Then I wondered if I wanted more attention. I hadn’t been with a man for a few months, and I had been so busy being annoyed at life that I hadn’t even bothered to masturbate, which usually would “take the edge off” of any tension I felt. I realized I would enjoy touching myself right now, but that clearly would be the kind of thing a flasher does on a bus or street corner, not the kind of thing a proper young woman does when trapped in an elevator with a kind neighbor.

Without thinking, I snuggled some more- but didn’t pull away when I realized this might seem improper. Plus he didn’t seem to mind at all. Maybe he enjoyed being close to me? He did seem to be making no effort to move away, and seemed to have been sort of smelling my hair, and me, as I snuggled in close to him.

I wrapped my arms around myself, now feeling the cool even more, and he suggested Antalya travesti I do what he used to do as a child when in air-conditioned movies wearing only a T shirt. Pull my arms into my shirt, and wrap them around myself with the fabric over them. I had never done that, but tried it and it seemed to work very well. He even took off his suit jacket and put it around me, which made me warm up instantly- but also allowed me to smell his scent, which (like his deep calling voice) sort of made me freeze.

With my arms covered, I found my hand sliding down until it was between my legs. I was wearing long pants, but the fabric was soft and I knew he couldn’t see, so I pushed my finger against my crotch and found that it felt very good. I knew that if I could finish, I would feel ever so much better. The idea he might realize what I was doing just didn’t seem to be a problem, he was so nice… and … I realized I was actually hoping that he wanted to do this for me. But I could never “make the first move”. That thought made me blush and move my fingers faster.

And sort of wiggle around, and move faster even though the movements now must be obvious to him.

My mind has sort of stopped thinking as my fingers moved faster and I adjusted my legs to give my fingers better access through the fabric. I wanted to go below the fabric, it was dulling the contact. I briefly looked at him, and he had his head back, his eyes closed, and … could he be asleep? I realized that did not matter- if he was awake he was trying to tell me that he was not watching. So I unsnapped my pants, and slid my hand in under my panties and the level of pleasure amped up by at least a factor of four. I realized it was not going to take very long before I would get where I wanted to go- but I also realized that I tend to move around a lot when that happens.

But I couldn’t slow down now, the lure of the pleasure was upon me- and I decided that maybe when I started to come, I could just sneeze or pretend to cramp up or something like that… but I didn’t have long to plan because I was THERE. And instead of managing some sneeze or clever ruse, I just started gasping and moaning and soon saying “oh god …gasp…oh god…”. It felt so god damned good! And seemed to go on much longer than usual. Not that I wanted it to end, but everything was so different.

My neighbor had not said anything, but when I finally looked at him, he was smiling. He didn’t say anything, and I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t say anything. I normally think of myself as “shy”, but could there be anything LESS shy than what İstanbul travesti I had just done.

“Do you feel better now?” he soon asked.

I actually laughed as I answered, “Yes, I do, sorry to be so rude, but I guess I was really tense, and now I don’t care how long it takes them to get us out of here.”

“Are you multi-orgasmic?” he asked.

I know I blushed, but also realized that his question was very interesting to me. He had not tried to use me, and now he was asking about my pleasure… but maybe only to feed his own? I decided to say “No”.

“Why don’t you show me exactly what you do for yourself, and see how you like it when I do that for you?”

I said nothing, but thought: WHAT? Say WHAT?

“Now is a good time to start; it has been about a minute since you finished- and you can be right back there in another minute or two. Let me show you.”

I would have been more worried by his suggestion, but he made no move to touch me. He did raise one hand- and I realized he expected me to move his hand to where it was needed – IF it was needed there.

Maybe I realized he would not tell anyone what had happened if he were part of it. I certainly forgot that maybe he would tell everyone what had happened, and the story would be worse if I asked him to be part of it? Maybe I just was selfish, and wanted more pleasure instead of worry and wait. So I took his hand and pulled it to my crotch, over my pants. He laughed and said, “that’s not the way your hand was.”

So he had been watching. But he waited for me to lift his hand, pull my panties open, and insert his hand gently into my pants. He watched my face and could tell as he touched me whether I was enjoying, or waiting to enjoy, and he was right. In only a couple of minutes, actually as soon as the “newness” wore off, I was in heaven again, bouncing against his fingers- fingers that never even penetrated me, only touched and rubbed. I could not speak words, but I did make sounds. I wondered why there was no universal “sound” that mean “THERE!” and another that meant “do that!” and a third for “don’t stop”. A bunch of groans and sighs that have meaning- but instead I just groaned and sighed and gasped, and left him to figure out what to do. He seemed to manage OK.

I was coming down off my third orgasm when the care lurched to a start, and we both quickly stood up, and I had my pants refastened before the door opened.

Greetings and happiness as our rescuers welcomed us, and even had some water for us. I realized I did not even know my new friend’s name, nor did he know mine. But as I watched him smell, then lick, his fingers casually, I looked around to see if anyone else besides me noticed this unusual activity, and his smile as he did this. He lived right downstairs, and seemed to be very pleased to have met me. I could get his name and properly introduce myself later.

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