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Through The Window

She knows I’m watching
It’s dark in the room. It has to be dark if I’m to see out, across to next door, where lights burn in the upstairs room about twenty yards away.

This is by now a ritual, at least when I’m upstairs alone and Sandra hasn’t yet come up. If I hear her on the stairs I climb into bed, pretending to read.

I watch, I wait. The timing varies, but never by more than a quarter of an hour. This evening I don’t even have to wait five minutes before I see her through the window, Veronica next door. It’s always the same. She undresses for bed, always with the lights on and always close enough to the window for me to see.

I catch my breath, standing in the dark, watching as she unfurls her hair. A little shake of the head and blonde tresses cascade over her shoulders. Today she’s in a thin, black top which reveals a touch of cleavage. Her fingers go to her shoulders, the straps come down, and suddenly there’s more than just cleavage; a pair of perfect globes, hugged by navy blue, gauzy enough to give a scintillating glimpse of areolae.

My ardour rises. I clasp the swelling, feeling guilty and ashamed. Why am I spying on next door like this when I have a lovely wife downstairs? I see what looks like a furtive smile on Veronica’s lips. She runs her fingers across the full curve of her bosom before reaching back to unhook. I hardly dare breathe, though I’m all alone. My hand moves slowly, my stiffness obscene and felonious. This is wrong.

But I can’t help myself. The bra comes off, Veronica’s naked breasts swinging gently as she turns, hands rising, fingers and thumbs gently rolling her nipples. I see her in profile, stomach tightening. I shouldn’t watch, but how can I not? There’s that semi-furtive smile again, and then she’s gone, no longer visible through the window. A pang of disappointment merges with a sigh of relief. Temptation is a terrible thing.

The sound of bleating sheep assaults the silence. I really should change the ringtone. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyway. “Hello?”

“Do you like watching me?” The voice soft and seductive. I’ve never heard her quite like this before. Comprehension fails me. How does she know?

“Veronica?”

“Do you like watching me?”

I take a deep breath. “Where’s Bob?”

“Downstairs. Preparing for a presentation.” She pauses. “Now, are you going to answer my question?”

She doesn’t ask where Sandra is, and I don’t volunteer the information. “Yes, I like watching you.”

“Are you going to let me see more than a silhouette?”

She knows. She knows I’ve been watching her. What do I say now?

“Do you want to?” Stupid question.

There’s silence. Then Veronica comes back into view, standing right up close to the window, holding her mobile to her ear. “Show me what you do when you watch me.”

She knows. I feel guilty and embarrassed, but how can I refuse? “Wait.”

I steal across the room. The door is ajar, the easier to hear if Sandra’s approaching. The faint sound of a crime drama suggests the coast is clear. I flick on the light and move back across the room, seeing my naked body reflected in the glass. Nothing special to look at, but Veronica wants to see. I have to get up close to the window to see past the reflection, across to where Veronica holds the mobile with one hand, the other rubbing and squeezing her voluptuous breasts.

Now I’m slightly embarrassed that I’m not hard, but the sight of Veronica soon remedies that. “Show me!” Veronica breathes in my ear. “Show me what you do when you watch me!”

It seems scarcely credible that the next door neighbour actually wants to watch me masturbate. She tilts her head to one side and raises a shoulder to hold the phone, using both hands to squeeze her globes, fingers rubbing swollen nipples. I do it. I do what I do when I watch her, hand moving, foreskin pulled down. Can she see the leak of pre-cum on the head?

With a little smile Veronica slides one of her hands down her body. Unlike my window, hers is placed too high for me to see where her hand goes, but I see her arm move, watch as she pinches a nipple with her other hand. I continue stroking, enraptured by the way she teases her own body.

“Do you want to see my pussy?”

My head almost explodes. I must be dreaming. “Yes,” I whisper weakly.

“Maybe another time.” Her arm keeps on moving, her other hand clutching at a breast as her lips part. She moans softly into the phone, tongue emerging, caressing her lips. She breathes in. “Do you want to fuck me?” The question is direct, but her voice is soft and sensual. I almost spurt right there and then, but manage to control myself in the nick of time.

“What about Bob?” I reply. “Sandra?”

Veronica just smiles, hand cradling breast, arm moving where she’s attending to herself further down. “Do you want to fuck me?” she repeats. “Bend me over and…” There’s a long, lingering sigh-cum-moan. “Knowing you watch me makes me so wet.”

I watch her watching me, trying to work things out, but I can’t. “Do you want me to fuck you?” I ask, hand moving. I will spurt soon, no matter how hard I try not to.

“Maybe,” Veronica whispers. “Maybe not.” She moans again, soft and long.

“Don’t tease,” I beg.

Veronica just smiles, gripping a nipple and pulling on it, arm moving faster, inspiring me to move my own hand with increasing intensity.

Then I hear it, the sound I don’t want to hear; Sandra’s feet on the stairs…

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