Although her first time experiencing it, Emily instantly decided that a lithe, sexy blond between her legs, licking her clit, was the perfect way to start the day. Sarah was an enthusiastic and talented lover—a natural— quickly becoming a prodigious student in the lessons of lesbian love. Having spent the night, they fingered, licked, kissed, caressed, and sucked each other to countless orgasms, both of them growing even more aroused over the fact that they were being watched.

“Um,” Sarah began in the morning after they’d made each other cum a few more times. The two women were enjoying a light breakfast and gourmet coffee after having showered together. “I don’t know exactly how to say this, but, umm, I like you. I’m just not ready for a committed relationship, right now.”

Emily chuckled, moving a wisp of her damp, brown hair away from her eyes. “I understand. We’re friends, nothing more. If we both feel like giving each other some benefits once in a while, I’m down for that.”

“Oh, thank God,” Sarah sighed in relief. “I didn’t want any drama or hurt feelings.”

”No drama here. I don’t have the time for a real relationship, but I love sex.”

Their morning was quiet, pleasant, and productive. Sarah finished her proposal for redecorating Emily’s house, and the two discovered that without their mutual friend around, they got along quite well. Emily walked her blond friend to her car when she was ready to leave. They openly embraced each other, hands wandering over the other in passionate desire, and kissed deeply and passionately.

“Your handsome neighbor is up and outside, already. I wonder if he liked our little show.”

“Not as much as we did, I bet. Drive safe.”

One last kiss, a lingering, soulful lip-lock that grew into heated desire, and Sarah drove off, promising to contact Emily about all the details and when they could start the work on the house. As she stood in her driveway, the late morning sun warming her body, Emily suddenly realized that she was clad in only a tank top and her lavender thong from the night before. Nonetheless, she cheerily waved, her arm raised high, to get Vincent’s attention.

“Hiya, neighbor. What time do you want me?” Emily knew exactly what her words intoned. She had plunged, head first, into her sexual debauchery and her impulsive, primal instincts were in command.

“Any time you’re up for it,” was his equally innuendo-weighted response.

The brunette showoff was perplexed as to why the entire situation turned her on so much, but she didn’t care. “Okay. I’ll be over in a few hours. Make sure you’re ready for me.”

Emily had to turn away, quickly, when he responded with a good-natured laugh and, “I’m always ready.” 

“See you in a few hours,” she waved, again, not turning around and very conscious of the fact that his eyes were riveted on her ass.

Her first thought was that a few hours was far too long to wait, but Emily steadily grew worried that she was going to be very late, far beyond fashionable. As she focused on the task at hand—getting ready to go over to Vincent’s home and actually be sociable—the hours ticked by. While she considered herself a master of makeup and wardrobe, always perfectly selecting and applying both to fit her whims, the brunette found herself at a total loss.

It took her at least four attempts to get her hair styled properly. First, Emily crimped it but decided that it was too slutty. Wetting it down once more, she tried straight and billowy, which wasn’t slutty enough. Pulled back into a ponytail, then into pigtails, Emily thought that both of those styles looked too innocent and juvenile. Finally, she decided that long, lazy waves were the way to go. 

Makeup gave her similar difficulties. Multiple applications, all of them immediately removed, ranged from a trashy whore vibe to virginal. Slowly, paying extreme attention to every pore and contour of her face, Emily chose earthy, neutral colors that accented her pouting lips, refined cheekbones, and sultry eyes. She did, however, remove all of that and redo it, laying it on a bit heavier to give her a sexy, come-hither-and-fuck-me aura.

Chastising herself over obsessing, the wavy-haired, sexily made-up woman ransacked her entire house, going through every garment she owned, before she could decide on what to wear. Even then, she still had issues. Her once-clean home was now littered with the wreckage of strewn-about pants, shorts, dresses, skirts, and every type of top, shirt, and blouse imaginable. Although her eyes initially passed it by at least a dozen times during her furious quest to find the proper outerwear, she finally settled on a full-length sundress.

It was made from a light, muted yellow, almost a lemon color, and the dress featured a scoop neck cut with very thin shoulders, almost straps. Sleeveless and cut from very thin cotton, the entire dress was puckered with tiny, round holes with marmalade-colored thread sewn around them. The dress was simple, alluring, and very sexy in a subtle sort of way. The main appeal was that it closed in the front, a line of delicate snaps running from the neckline down to the hem. It could be snapped or opened to be made into a demure frock, a sexy peek, or wantonly lusty.

While the material wasn’t transparent, only very slightly translucent, any undergarments she chose revealed themselves through the thin cloth. The plethora of holes exaggerated the effect. First, Emily tried a bra and panties in black.

”Fucking trailer-trash. I might as well write ‘FUCK ME’ on my forehead.”

Reds, then all white, and every other lingerie ensemble she had were attempted and discarded.

“Fuck it,” she told herself. “It isn’t like he hasn’t already seen me naked. I’ll just go without.” The thought that it was also for easy access, just in case, crossed her mind but was left unvoiced.

Uncertain about what may occur, Emily bolstered her resolve and trudged across the street. As usual for the weekends, her neighbor’s garage door was up, revealing the immaculately organized workshop he’d built inside. Vincent wasn’t in his garage, although several projects, in various degrees of progress, were laid out here and there. Emily called out for him, then rang his front doorbell, then knocked.

“I thought I heard something,” he said as he emerged from the fenced-off area beside the garage.

As always, his face was jovial, smiling, and not showing any sign of being overcome with lust. Despite the fact that she liked it, Emily was slightly frustrated, because men, especially, typically fall under her control at first sight. She simply wasn’t used to her sexy, fuck-me-hard physical appearance failing to enthrall.

“Come on around back,” he said, disappearing through the privacy fence gate. 

Emily hurriedly followed. “I didn’t know if I should bring anything, but I can run back and grab a side dish or wine, maybe some smoke, whatever.”

She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so nervous. The revelation that she was in uncharted waters hit her and made her heart thunder in her chest. Emily couldn’t decide whether to play it coy and sociable or to aggressively seduce him. She knew that she wanted more, at least some sign that the game they’d been playing, recently mutually acknowledged, was still going on. Though her primal impulses and entire body screamed for more, she was utterly clueless about Vincent’s intentions. Realizing that she’d become accustomed to people chasing after her to the point of it being commonplace, her nerves were on edge.

Despite the butterflies dancing in her stomach, her jaw dropped, and she mouthed, “Wow,” several times when she entered his backyard. While the front of his property was spectacular and impressive, the rear was astounding. Handmade water features, perfect landscaping, and flowers, bushes, and other plants flowed throughout the spacious yard, with little stone paths and various seating areas scattered about.

“Your yard looks like an advertisement. I love your roses, too.”

“Thank you. It’s what I do to relax. Speaking of which…” He pulled out his vape unit and replaced the tank with a different one. “You seemed to enjoy my refer the other night.”

Emily gladly accepted it, giggling. “Nobody calls it refer, anymore.”

To her surprise, all of her showing off, masturbation, and even the lesbian sex from the night before were never once mentioned. Emily desperately wanted, even needed, to bring it up, but she found herself quickly becoming timid. It was as if not talking about their game was part of the game. Recalling Sarah’s trepidation, and the fact that she’d unknowingly repeated her blond friend’s exact steps and thoughts, Emily mused that she now had empathy for Sarah’s plight.

However, the day passed quickly, and the two neighbors got to know one another on a more personal level. Vincent was a kind, extremely interesting, entertaining, and wonderful host, and Emily was soon so caught up in enjoying the company that her intentions of pushing the boundaries were almost, but not quite, forgotten. His wine was excellent and perfectly selected to match the atmosphere and food he’d begun grilling. Vince’s marijuana was top-shelf, and, as she grew more comfortable and intoxicated, the tingling sensations of her lust for showing off to him conquered the serenity.

The blaze of the afternoon sun dissipated into a cool, tranquil evening, darkness creeping over the sky. The brunette couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much. Her neighbor was simply magnetic, and she quickly realized that while she’d begun the game, he was completely in control. Furthermore, he didn’t communicate as most men do.

Vincent talked on multiple levels at once, just like most women do. His words, all at once, carried the conversation, delved into her life and personality, entertained her, and also addressed the unspoken sexual attraction Emily was feeling. He was also being hilarious, at his own expense at times, simply because he was enjoying himself.

The effect on Emily was epic. She found herself dropping innuendo all day, testing him for reactions. He had this way of acknowledging her advances, increasing her level of arousal, and then moving forward. She found herself wondering if he was getting her hints or just mindfucking her. If Vincent was playing with her brain, he was doing it with horny, arousing expertise.

Emily grew bolder and more daring throughout the day. Subtle hints became bold proclamations to no avail. A top snap of her dress undone to show a hint of cleavage grew into more than half of her tits exposed; they jiggled and bounced enticingly with her every movement. When she’d arrived, only a few of the bottom snaps were open, but, by the time night had fallen, she’d unsnapped enough to expose the top of her thigh. Still, he didn’t make a move on her; she wanted him to take her, ravage her, and pound her rough and deep.

Blaming the copious amount of wine and the devastatingly-potent herbal smoke and growing a bit desperate as she noted the time, Emily took the next step. Vincent was seated on one of the benches he’d made, and she was leaning against the wall of his house, surveying his yard work. She propped her leg up on the bench, right beside him, and leaned toward him. Those movements exposed not only all of her thigh but gave him an eye-level view of her saturated cunt. The cool, night air against her breasts let her know that parts of her areolas had spilled out over the top of her mostly-undone dress.

“Do you like watching me?” Her voice carried all her emotions, her burning, horny desire, and incessant need. Just in case he wasn’t paying attention as closely as she desired, Emily slowly, lightly traced her fingertips from her calf, moving up her leg.

Emily knew, from experience, that this was the moment of truth, Vincent would either back down, afraid of her sexiness and sexual aggression, or take her. He chuckled, unapologetically drank in the sight of her exposed treasure box, then stood, facing her. He stepped toward her, slowly, a hungry expression on his smiling face. Overcome with passion, Emily backed herself against the wall, spreading her legs to provide easy access. She waited for their first kiss, his hot, manly hands touching her flesh, and for his fingers to grope her amazing ass or finger her juicy cunt.

Her eyes closed in anticipation as he drew near. Emily could feel the moist heat of his breath at the nape of her neck. Glancing down, she saw his hand reach out toward her exposed thigh, delicately and deliberately. She could feel the thin fabric of her dress move, very slightly, as he traced the edge of the cloth, slowly ascending towards her molten sex. Emily threw her head back, eyes closed, knowing that it was the moment he was going to take her and fuck her.

“Almost as much as you enjoy showing off,” he whispered into her ear.

She waited, but his hands never touched her overheated flesh, his lips never sought her lips, and his arms refused to wrap around her in a passionate embrace. His fingers ran slowly up and down the gap in her dress, drawing close to, but never touching, her quivering thigh.

“Don’t you want to touch me, taste me?”

He drew back; his body was still so close that she could feel his heat blending into the fiery inferno of her body. His words were steady, very slow, and so seductive that her inner core trembled with horny lust.

“You… made… the… rules.” Between each syllable, Vincent paused, his lips hovering near her neck, ear, and cheek. Alternating between breathing hot, humid air and blowing cool, the combination of his words and actions had her in a stupor. “Until you tell me that you want me to touch you, it won’t happen.”

“What?” Emily’s surprise showed in her query. 

Vincent just nodded, smiling, refilled her wine glass, and handed it to her. “You heard me. You started this game, so it’s up to you whether it gets escalated.”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Of course, I do. You’re fun, smart, witty, and fantastic to be around.”

Emily didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t mention how beautiful or sexy she was.

He continued, drawing up so close that his whispered words sent shivers down her spine. “Besides, we both know that you love the freedom of showing off without worrying about everyone wanting to maul you and cram their hard cock inside of you. As sexy as you are, I’d think everyone is just dying to touch you. I’ll wait until you ask.”

“Really?” Emily was torn between feeling honored and respected and being upset that he wouldn’t let himself succumb to her feminine wiles. “Any other man would be all over me, just from what I’ve done, today.”

“I’m not any other man. If you want to feel my hands on your sexy body, my mouth pleasing you, and my hard cock making you cum over and over, you have to ask me to touch you, first.”

“And what if I don’t?” Her voice revealed some resolve, but her body was visibly quaking from her arousal.

“More food?” he offered the dish of finger food he’d prepared. 

Emily shook her head in the negative, then tested his resolve. “What if I just open my dress, all the way, like this?”

The few, remaining snaps popped open as she wrenched her dress apart. She stood there boldly, brazenly, her tits heaving with desire, her skin flushed from arousal, and her cunt dripping from the dual attacks of his dirty words making her feel it and his refusal to take her without her asking for it.

“Your body is a stunning of perfect art,” he appraised her, once more, without hiding it or reservation. Still, he didn't touch her. It was glorious torture.

Emily was taken aback. She’d just shown him her nudity, up close, her aching pussy just inches away from his hands and face. “And do this?” Her hands ran down her torso, cupping her tits, lightly scratching her stomach, and then between her silky thighs. Her sexual nectar quickly coated her fingers. Feeling naughty, she grabbed his wine glass and rubbed her lusty juices over the rim of the glass.

Nonplussed, he deftly took the glass out of her outstretched hand, sipped it while smiling, and made “mmm,” sounds.

“Tastes even better than pure perfection,” he mused.

“Well,” Emily began, admitting defeat but refusing to ask him to touch her. “I thank you for a lovely evening But, since I won’t ask you to touch me, I’m going to go home and masturbate. Will you be watching like the big, fucking pervert you are?”

Vincent laughed at that. “Tell me you don’t love it, and I promise you I’ll stop appreciating it when you feel like showing off.”

Emily’s gaze rotated away from him and down the side of his house. She was looking into her yard. “Those bushes in my yard,” she pointed. The big, flowering bushes, in full, spring bloom, were a few feet away from the side window of her bedroom.

“I’d be that if somebody snuck up there, they’d have an amazing vantage point to spy into my bedroom, through my open window. They could probably even hear me. Well, goodnight, Vince, and thank you for a lovely evening.” She'd tipped him off; hopefully, at least, he'd get that hint.

If all he wants to do is watch me, I’ll show him exactly what he’s missing, Emily mentally added as she trudged across the street. She was more fascinated than irked, but she still had a difficult time that anyone, man or woman, could resist her charms; she was, indeed, that incredibly sexy. The dress fell off her shoulders before she opened her front door. The brunette tease looked over her shoulder and waved at her neighbor as he eyed up her heart-shaped behind. She closed the door with a dramatic slam and went straight to her stash of wine and weed.

Emily drank a huge quaff straight from the bottle, fired up her pipe, and sucked in so much smoke that she had a minute-long coughing fit. Soon, her entire body was tingling with horny zeal, and she ran into the bedroom, almost knocking over her salt lamp in an attempt to turn it on. She threw herself onto her mattress, giggling when she bounced, and spread her legs wide, pointing her dripping cunt directly at the side window.

It was her game; she’d started it, but he quickly took control. She was determined to not ask to be touched. Begging was not something she did; others begged her. Nonetheless, and she realized it now, her neighbor had verbally driven her to the point of sexual insanity. Her impassioned body was on sexual fire and she craved release. He was definitely in control, and the notion thrilled her. Nobody had ever made her feel so aroused before, and he hadn’t even laid a hand on her.

While debating over which toys to use, the highly-aroused exhibitionist lazy traced the contours of her nude, nubile body. When her hands wandered between her outstretched legs, the sound of her wetness pushed her over the edge. The squishing slosh of her fingers playing over her folds sent her libido into orbit. The impulse to violently shove two fingers into her twat as forcefully as she could was unbearable, so she wantonly thrust her fingers inside herself as deep as they could go. She had to bend and contort her back, but, by cupping one breast and lifting it towards her moist lips, she could flick her tongue over her hard nipple. She did that until she was heaving in panting moans, her fingers fucking her wet hole. The sounds of her wetness were unmistakable.

Finally clamping her teeth over her taut nipple, Emily quickly assaulted her clit. With her head thrashing about in violent pleasure, the grip on her sensitive nipple was soon relinquished. 

“Fucking teasing me, you dirty, fucking pervert. How do you like watching me fuck myself up close? Can you hear how wet I am? I need to be fucked so bad.”

Inspired, Emily flipped over, pointing her ass at her voyeur. She knew he was watching, even though she heard his footsteps outside her open window. “My fucking cunt is so wet that it dripped all over my asshole. See?”

Balancing on one forearm, the overheated woman reached between her slicked thighs and fucked herself with three fingers until her hips were bucking. “Do you like watching me hump my ass in the air? Are you hard for me, you filthy bastard? Do you want to shove your hard cock inside my backdoor?”

To add more weight to her words, Emily withdrew her soaked fingers and plunged her index finger into her asshole. “Oh, aah, fuck, that feels good. Fucking fuck my ass. Watch me. Please, watch me get off. This is all your fault.”

Completely lost in lust, her impulses took over. She threw her head against the mattress, freeing up her other hand, and fingered her clit so rapidly that the wetness from her gushing pussy flew everywhere. Emily didn’t care; she was loving the moment. He’d turned on her mind, which is something people usually fail to do. 

“Cumming, fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted. As an incredibly powerful orgasm built within her loins, she stopped, momentarily, right on the cusp of orgasm. “My door’s unlocked. Anyone could walk right in, find me masturbating,” the heat of her words caused Emily to renew her attacks on her body, “and just shove that cock deep in me until we both explode.”

All it took was one more second of manual stimulation, and she came harder than she’d ever orgasmed in her entire life. “Fuck, oh fucking God! Oh, uh, uuuggh. Fuck; fuck me.”

Wave after wave of intense, body-possessing pleasure crashed against her soul. Her orgasm was so powerful that it was nearly three minutes before she could do anything but writhe on the bed, grunting in primal pleasure. As she lay there, panting in the afterglow, Emily realized that she’d surrendered.

“I want you to touch me, Vince,” she addressed the darkness outside her window. “I need you to touch me, kiss me, take me. Please come in and fuck me. I need it; I need you.”

There was no response.

I know! He came in when I told him the door was unlocked. He’s waiting for me. Feeling victorious, she sprang out of bed and rushed down the hallway. He wasn’t there. Where she had hoped he would be standing was just a single, red rose, one from her neighbor’s backyard. Shrugging, but smiling over the rose, Emily went to lock her door and found it already locked. She closed the deadbolt, then picked up the rose.

“I’ve never masturbated with a flower before. I hope he’s still watching.”