Spring is the dullest time of year here in Jerusalem. All the men in the city are gone to fight in the army, and I have no one to talk to. There are women still around, but now that everyone's husband is gone there's little to gossip about. Some women come over and talk about their children, but I don't have any so I can only listen to their stories and nod with sympathy. There's no sparkle in our talks; nothing to smile about. I miss the subtle flirting of men's conversation.
My husband, Uriah, is one of Israel's soldiers, so he's gone with the rest of the men. I tell him that I may as well be a widow when he's gone. He just laughs at me and says that I am far from a widow; I have food, a home and a husband to provide for me. He doesn't understand me. I don't mean I'm destitute, I appreciate all he does for me, but I want something more. I want to be with him all the time. I want to talk to him late at night. I want the feeling of being wrapped in his strong arms as we become one.
The time that we do have together is marvelous; he's such a strong man. When he returns from the campaigns we have two feasts. The first is at the dining table. I work all day making the lamb, dates and bread. He loves all my food and eats it with relish. Even without the pleasures before him I find him staring at me. I want him to take me, right then on the table, but his passion grows even stronger if I make him wait. I'll give him a look by slowly raising my eyes, or I'll give him a subtle smile. Later near the end of the feast I'll lean forward so that he can get a view of my breasts. He calls them "Knockers," it sounds funny, especially with his foreign accent. He says that I have the best knockers in all of Israel, I act offended by that, but he knows I am delighted. Giving him a good view of my breasts makes everything catch fire. He picks me up and carries to our chambers. That is when our second feast begins. We tear our clothes off and I take his wonderful manhood in my mouth. He positions me so that he may sample the moist flower of my womanhood with his tongue. I love the feeling and grow increasingly wet and he becomes incredibly hard. I beg him to take me and he's soon on top of me thrusting with long, powerful strokes. I moan a lot while he continues until I feel an intense pleasure and an intense relief. The same happens to Uriah soon enough and I feel his warm liquid fill me.
That's wonderful; wonderful beyond words. Whenever I think about it I smile to myself, but right now there is nothing but memories. Women come to drink wine and gossip. I mend and tend to the house. All of it is dreadful and dull. My sole relief comes from my nightly bath up on the roof.
There's a baker in our building named Jacob who heats a couple jugs of water for me. He's an older man and he's well known. Women come from all over the city for his bread, so his fires burn on well into the night. He always smiles at me when he hands me the jugs and says that "For beautiful women, cold baths are an outrage." He even offers to carry them to the roof for me. He's so sweet, but I wouldn't dare let him. What a scandal that would be for our building. I carry the jugs to the roof, disrobe and wash myself thoroughly. Uriah knows how I like baths so he put up a set of screens for me, so I can hide nakedness like Eve did. I'd die of shame if I exposed myself to the whole city, yet I'm excited when I'm nude in the open air while hearing the sounds of the city below. I feel so wonderfully naughty that I want to giggle, even if only the moon gets a look at my naked breasts.
Or so I had thought. There are odd holes in the screens and cracks where they come together. They are so small that I hadn't paid much attention to them. Someone would have to be quite close to see through one of those and the only tall building close to ours is the palace. I was sure the king and his court had better manners than to spy on a young wife. Yet a few nights ago a glanced at one of the cracks and saw the moon reflecting at a pair of eyes through one of the cracks. The voyeur would have been in the direction of the palace. I got up immediately and dressed out of his field of vision.
I felt disgusted. There in the privacy of my roof some pervert was watching me, and not just any pervert but someone from the king's court was ravishing me with his eyes. I had no idea how long he had been there or how much he had seen. It could have been for weeks. He was probably pleasuring himself while looking at my body. The thought of an unknown man doing that made me feel cheap and violated. Who was he? The king was still in the city; it was probably one of his bodyguards. Such an oaf; how dare he spy on me? Though I shouldn't be so hasty; my husband was a soldier after all, a bodyguard might not be an oaf. Some of them were cute, but they had their pick of the women in this city. He didn't need to spy on a respectable married woman.
I thought about that some, and realized it was a little flattering, though still disgusting. He could have had his pick of women and chose to look at me. Maybe he was so ugly that the women of easy virtue wouldn't have him, though that didn't seem likely. From what I saw of the King's bodyguard they were all strong and handsome. I wondered which one he was, what he looked like. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help thinking of him. I wondered if he would be there again that night.
I told myself that I would scream this time. He wouldn't get away with spying on me. I'd make everyone in Jerusalem know what a pervert there was in the King's guard. I was full of resolve and determination when I was climbing the stairs; but it melted when I saw those eyes. I didn't want to scream anymore. I just went about my bath as though nothing were out of place. I felt excited; especially as I bent forward since he was sure to get an eyeful of my knockers.
I woke up thinking about him the next day. I snuck up to the roof when no one was watching widened the crack of the screen a little in his direction. I felt so wicked; a good woman shouldn't behave this way. Maybe I wasn't a good woman. All I could think about all day was his eyes roving over my nude body. It was exhilarating. He was there that night. I knew he would be there every night for me.
This became a game for us. Every day I'd show my dream lover a little more. I tried to imagine what he looked like, or who he was. I thought about this unknown stallion all throughout the day. One day I'd bend over to give him a full view of my ass and maybe wiggle it a bit. Another one I'd place my foot upon a stool and spread my legs so far that he was sure to get a glimpse of my nether lips. Almost every day I'd make sure he got a full view of my knockers. Men love them; I can tell because they try not to look at them when they think I'm watching.
Last night the moon was full, I was dreaming about this night for some time, for now my phantom stallion would get a full view of my body. I decided to give him a show he would remember forever. I had se the screens far enough now apart that my dream man could see every inch of my body even if I was near the edge. I didn't have to look in his direction; I knew he was there. I strutted forward towards the edge of the roof near the crack in the screen. I swayed my hips as I walked and smiled broadly. When I was near the crack I slowly disrobed, taking time to deliberately unfasten my belt and causing my robes to slowly drop. I stood there exposed for a moment then I let my hand drift down towards my cunt. I covered my mound and gently began to massage my clitoris. It felt heavenly; I had to bite my lip from the intense pleasure. I would do this often in the privacy of my room when my husband was away. During those times I would imagine it was my husband down there, his hand or tongue stimulating my most sensitive of regions. Now it was an unseen lover. In my imagination he was stroking me with his tongue, and soon he was penetrating me with his engorged cock. I went down on my haunches and spread my legs apart to give him a fuller view of my now soaking cunt. I slipped a finger inside thrust while my thumb continued to work upon my groove. I was excited beyond belief. I couldn't control my passion; I was making little mewing noises as I continued to work myself to a frenzy. I knew that my mystery lover was also stimulating himself. This excited me more and I became louder as I continued to masturbate. I climaxed with a grunt and then a wide smile spread across my face. I stood up and walked back to the basin again with a deliberate sway so he could get a view of my ass. I went back to my basin and washed the copious sweat off my body.
This morning a messenger arrived at our building. He bore a letter from the king requesting my presence at the palace. I heard the other women in the building gossip throughout the day about what a slut I must be. I couldn't disagree with them. Some said I was a witch, one woman heard a cat up on the roof last night, a loud cat, like a witch would have.
Had the king my phantom lover? I blushed to think of it, but I dared not refuse a request of the Lord's anointed.