This Thursday burned itself into my memory. Returning home late from work, I was pulling on my pajamas when my gaze was magnetically drawn to the brightly lit window across the street. A woman, early thirties, with dark curls, was dancing barefoot through her living room – a white lace shirt that revealed her bare breasts with every spin. I froze, my hand on the zipper of my pants. She spun to music I couldn’t hear, and laughed. Then she looked directly over at me. My heart skipped a beat. But she just waved, smiled, and continued. I breathed a sigh of relief – and was hooked.
The Silent Game Begins
From then on, I looked for her window every evening. I rearranged my desk so I could see over there unimpeded. She seemed to know I was there. Sometimes she undressed slowly, letting her clothes fall as if I were her mirror. Once she stood naked at the window, her hands on the glass, moving her hips in a slow, circling motion that made me hard as stone. I watched as her fingers wandered down over her belly, as she touched herself while smiling at me – a silent agreement between two strangers.
Tonight is different. I haven’t dared to turn on my light, but she has hers brightly lit. She’s sitting on the windowsill, legs tucked, reading a book. Every now and then she looks up, throws me a glance that pierces through the darkness of my room. I stand behind my curtain, just a crack open, and feel my pulse in my throat. She puts the book aside, stands up, and walks slowly to the window. Her palms press against the glass, her breasts flatten against the pane. She closes her eyes, and I see her mouth open slightly. A shiver runs through my body – she’s doing it for me.
The Audience Becomes Part of the Show
I can’t hold back anymore. I open my window and lean out. The cool night air brushes my face. She hears the sound, opens her eyes, and smiles. Then she points her finger at her door, then at me, then back at her door. An unmistakable command. I don’t hesitate for a second. I pull on a pair of jeans, run down the stairs, across the empty street. My heart hammers as I stand before her door. She opens it before I can ring, as if she had expected me.
“I knew you would come,” she says softly, her voice rough and deep. She’s wearing only a silk robe, swinging loosely around her hips. I step inside, and she closes the door behind me. Her scent – vanilla and something sharp – envelops me. “My name is Lena,” she whispers, and her hands slide under my t-shirt. Her fingers are cool against my hot skin.
The Line Between Watching and Touching
I pull her to me, my mouth finding hers. She tastes of red wine and mint. Her tongue glides over my lips, demanding yet gentle. My hands wander under her robe, stroking the soft skin of her back. She moans softly, pressing against me. I feel her nipples through the thin fabric, hard and ready. “You’ve been watching me,” she says between two kisses, “now it’s my turn.”
She pushes me backward against the wall, kneeling before me. Her fingers undo my belt, the button of my jeans, the zipper. My cock springs toward her, and she takes it into her mouth without hesitation. A wave of heat surges through me. Her lips wrap tightly around me, her tongue circles the head while her hand grips the shaft. I lean my head against the cold wall, close my eyes, and savor the feeling I’ve so often only watched from afar. She takes me deep, her throat relaxing, and I feel her throat around me. A moan escapes me. She looks up at me, her eyes gleaming, and she smiles around my cock.
The First Time – Close and Real
“Not so fast,” I say hoarsely, lifting her up. She laughs, a bubbling sound, and leads me into her bedroom. The bed is huge, the sheets white and cool. She lies on her back, spreading her arms. “Show me what you’ve been wanting to see all this time.” I slip off her robe, and she lies naked before me, just like in my fantasies, but realer, warmer, more alive. Her breasts are full, nipples dark and hard. Her stomach is flat, and between her legs it glistens wet. I lean down, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She moans as I take a nipple between my lips, sucking gently while my hand massages the other. Her pelvis rises against me, seeking contact.
My mouth travels lower, over her belly, until my chin brushes her pubic hair. She smells of salt and something sweet. I part her labia with my fingers, see them glisten, and lick carefully over her clitoris. She twitches, letting out a shrill sound. Her hands claw into my hair. “Yes, right there,” she whispers. I trace circles with my tongue, sucking sometimes, changing the rhythm. Her hips move in time, her breath quickens. I feel her tense up, her body heading toward climax. But I don’t want her to come yet. I pull away from her, kissing my way back up to her mouth.
The Union – From Watching to Participating
“I want to feel you inside me,” she says, and her legs open wide. I straighten up, guiding my cock to her opening. She’s ready, wet and hot. I push in slowly, inch by inch. Her inner muscles grip me, pulsing. She closes her eyes, biting her lower lip. “My God,” she moans. I pause, letting her get used to me, then begin to move. A steady rhythm, deep and demanding. With each thrust I grow wilder. She lifts her legs over my shoulders, giving me more room. I feel her pelvis thrusting against me, her taking me, just as I’ve imagined so often.
“Look at me,” she commands. I do. Her eyes are wide, pupils huge. “Tell me you want to watch me.” “Yes,” I pant, “always.” She smiles, tenses her muscles, and I feel her inner walls massaging me. A surge of lust shoots through my lower belly. I speed up, losing myself in her. Her fingernails dig into my back. “Come with me,” she whispers, and I feel her tighten around me, a wave washing over her. Her body tenses, her cry is muffled, and the contractions carry me away. My climax explodes, I thrust deep, feeling myself pour into her, warm and intense. S
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