tagExhibitionist & VoyeurCNG (Cute Neighbor Girl)

CNG (Cute Neighbor Girl)

byCaptBionic©

I was late in 2001. I was in my early 30's, and had been living in Chicago. I worked for a major retailer, in our local regional office. I had literally worked my way up from the stores over the previous 10 years, and was proud of having clawed my way up to junior management. Oh boy.

I had just received a promotion with the company. It was a healthy 50% bump in pay, so naturally I grabbed it with both hands and ran. The only downside was it necessitated relocation from Chicago to Minneapolis.

I wasn't precisely thrilled, but I didn't have too many other options on the ol' career path. This, unfortunately, required the Big Talk with the girlfriend, Vickie.

We had been together for about 2 years, not counting the month we spent apart due to my need to pry my head from my ass. I was torn about what to do on this one. I loved her, or I thought I did. But if she came with me to Minneapolis, this would naturally be the next big step in the relationship. You don't follow someone across 3 states unless there is something in it. Something like, say, a ring. With a diamond. A big diamond.

So, what to do?

I enjoyed our time together. We shared a lot of interests. I am a world-class gear head, and you don't meet too many girls who not only can drive a stick shift, but can change a clutch as well. She was fairly laid back. A pony-tail and no makeup sort of girl. Very low maintenance for the most part.

Unfortunately, in bed she was about as adventurous as cold soup. She had a list of don'ts much larger than her do's. Not that I'm looking for anything kinky, mind you. But I'd be nice to maybe get a bit of back-door action during a blow job. I can't even get the blow job part. She'd do it, but begrudgingly. I don't like the idea of begging for anything. So, usually what would happen is I'd ask, she'd say no. I'd be miffed (she claimed I was pouting), and she'd simply roll over and go to sleep. There were all sorts of other boundaries as well, but I don't need to go too deep, I am sure you get the idea.

So, I decided I had to end it.

I felt really bad about this one. I was her first time (who meets a 23 year old virgin anymore?). But, I knew if I dragged her happy ass up to Minneapolis and broke it off with her there, I'd have to deal with 4 pissed off brothers of hers wanting to kick my ass.

So, there I was in a new town. Alone. I knew no one but my boss and later, a few other employees who found their way to the great white north. What the hell was I doing here? I wasn't sure it was the right answer to have broken up with Vickie, but, hell, I wasn't sure she would have come with me anyway.

I figured now was as good a time as any to buy my first house. I was living in temporary "corporate housing" (read: Hotel) when I was relocating. Hotels get old after a while. So, started on the house hunt.

Finally, I settled on a nice townhouse as "real" houses were slightly, shall we say, "aspirational" in my price range. This one was part of a duplex. Two to a side which faced two more identical units across a driveway. They were kind of tall and skinny, barely wider than the garage door that made up more or less the entirety of the first floor. Above that were two more floors, with a balcony above the garage. It wasn't fancy, but it was a place to put my stuff.

The weird thing about my new little cul-de-sac is that the two townhouses on a side faced each other. The easy way in to and out of your house was via the garage. So, you'd pull in, shut the big door, and never have to see or talk to anyone. However, you also couldn't help but see across the barely-wider-than an alley driveway in to your neighbor's unit. No talking with one another, just voyeurism. So most people kept their blinds shut all the time. Welcome to suburbia: packed in like sardines, everything painted beige, and a cold shoulder.

After a few weeks, I noticed a young woman living across from me, and down a unit. Nothing unusual about her. I guess she was in her early 20's. She was maybe 5'4", with dirty blonde hair in a pony tail. She was well proportioned. Certainly not skinny, but was in possession of some curves. And, a pair of weapons-grade boobs. All in all, she seemed to be an easy-going type of girl, and I'll take that over a smoking hot drama queen any day.

She smiled and said "hi" when she passed by from time to time. Unfortunately; I'm certainly not one to start any conversations with girls. I was quite the ineptinarian when it came to making small-talk. But, she certainly was cute and seemed to be friendly. A smile does wonders. Oh well, maybe someday I'd talk with her at the swinging hotspot known as the communal mailbox.

So, after a month of living in hotels and finally buying a townhouse, it was time to actually get to work at work. I was a manager in a small department in our company. Like I said before, I didn't really know anybody in this office. But, once I acclimated to the people around me, things seemed to get better. I started to understand the office etiquette around dress, use of the coffee maker (it seems that it is not appreciated to make coffee three times stronger than normal with the understanding that people who wanted weaker coffee should just dilute it...), and the cliques of people who went to lunch and whatnot. It was still pretty lonely for the first month or so. Go to work, come home.

It certainly didn't help that I moved to Minneapolis in the fall. Just in time for the winter, which is lethal. So, my neighborhood's habit of opening the garage door long enough to get in and out spending no time outside was intensified. I didn't get to see much of the neighbor girl, except for the occasional mailbox sighting. But, she was still intriguing to me, even bundled up like an arctic explorer.

Once spring rolled around, people in Minneapolis seem to emerge from their cocoons. People go outside and walk or jog as soon as it's above 40 degrees. For me, it meant I could sit out on the balcony over the garage on my townhouse and enjoy a nice cigar.

So, it was late spring, and I was sitting out there reading car magazine, smoking a nice Fuente, and drinking a little bourbon. I had turned to put the sun at my back, on the magazine, and all in all, was simply relaxing. It was one of those days where you feel that life is good.

I noticed my cute neighbor girl pull in to her garage. When she got out of the car, she looked up, saw me, and gave a little friendly wave. The type that you give to your neighbors to say "Hi there" but not friendly enough to say "Come on over, I've got some fresh pie."

About 5 minutes later, I noticed her in the second floor bedroom. The sun was streaming at my back and right in her window. She seemed to be wearing the "corporate business casual" uniform of a buttoned down dress shirt and dress pants. She probably worked in an office setting, as opposed to, say Taco Bell. So that was a good sign. The next thing that happened almost caused me to drop my cigar.

She must not have been thinking as she just unbuttoned her shirt right as I watched. The cleavage was most impressive. Her rather large breasts were in a black bra, bulging a little around the sides and out the middle. The bra was a little lacy around the edges. She couldn't have been more than 35 feet away from me, so I had a pretty clear view. Ray Charles could have seen these breasts from this distance.

I didn't know what to do. I felt like a Peeping Tom for a moment. But, I couldn't look away. Would she go further? How did she not realize I could see her clearly? Hell, couldn't she see me? Maybe not if the sun was coming directly from behind me. I felt giddy and a little nervous. I had to keep looking.

She left the room, but was back in about a minute. I looked around to see if anyone else was visible. It was just me and her. I pretended to read my issue of Car and Driver, but was far more interested in the show going on across the driveway.

She tossed what looked like a t-shirt on the bed, and reached for her waist. She unsnapped her pants, and kinda slinked them down, making her boobs jiggle wonderfully. Black panties were coordinated with the bra. She turned and walked over to her dresser. At that point it was obvious she was wearing a thong. I approved of this, as I am not a fan of panty lines. I also loved that she wore nice, sexy things even when (she thought) no one would see them. So much more interesting than granny panties. I had to guess she enjoyed being sexy, even for herself.

She reached in the dresser, and tossed a few more things on the bed. At this point, with her back still to me, she started to answer my silent thoughts. She reached behind her back, and popped the catch on her bra. She threw it aside and then bent over and pulled off her thong.

A nice ass was presented to me, with a tempting hint of pink lips just peeking out when she bent over. She was certainly not thin, but her ass was very pleasant, with nice round cheeks. Spankably delicious. No tan lines to speak of just smooth creamy skin.

To say that my jeans were comfortable at this point would be a bit of an understatement. I continued to "read" my magazine, knowing that I had a cover story should anyone notice what was going on. But no one was around. It was still just me and her. Although I guessed she wasn't aware of my part in her little after school special.

She left the room for a moment again. Arrgh, I just wanted to see her breasts. I am a serious boob man, and she, my friends, had some serious boobs. To my relief, she walked back in, and I got the full frontal show I was hoping for. Her boobs were beautiful. Had to be D cups. Her nipples were pretty light colored; I could barely make them out from where I was sitting. They swayed so nicely as she walked, with a seemingly two little jiggles for every step she took. For their size, there was very little sagging ("just wait, gravity is an evil mistress" I thought to myself). I love nice boobs, did I mention that? Hers were simply spectacular.

I was so enamored with her chest; it took me a moment to realize that I hadn't noted if the carpets matched the curtains. I looked downstairs, and discovered her pubic hair was my favorite color: completely shaved. I love a smooth pussy, and, well at least from where I was sitting, hers was bare, with nice large, lickable lips hanging down.

I wonder why she shaved it, and for whom? I didn't see too many guys around the place. Hmmm, something to think about. Did she do this for herself, or was it a holdover from a previous boyfriend? I added these to lists of questions to ask her one day, pending my suddenly discovering the courage to talk to her.

She turned around one more time, inadvertently giving me the complete 360 view. If I was mildly interested in her before, I was smitten now. Fairly light skin, no tan lines to speak of, certainly well proportioned, but not fat. No tattoos, no piercings. A nice, healthy, mid-western girl. And she was inadvertently twirling for my pleasure.

I noticed that I had put down my cigar and was involuntarily rubbing my dick through my Levis. Not the most comfortable situation, so I picked my cigar back up and pushed the inadvertent Bill Clinton reference from my mind.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the free show wrapped up. She pulled what looked like a jog bra over her head and proceeded to stuff the boobs underneath it. It looked like she was trying to juggle bowling balls, honestly. Next on were the panties. These were purely white cotton affairs. Then she shrugged in to a t-shirt and stepped in to some sweatpants. It looked like she was dressing to go work out or something.

It appeared that was it for today. I kept one eye on her townhouse while a tried to get back to reading my magazine. I still had plenty of cigar left to smoke.

About five minutes after her quick change routine ended, her garage door opened. She tossed a couple of softball bats and a duffle bag in her car's trunk. She backed it out, and as she started forward, she looked up and waved at me again. I waved back, cigar in my hand, almost afraid to make any sort of eye contact.

She must have simply not thought about the light entering her bedroom. I loved the show, however.

Later, I went inside and ordered some more cigars.

The next free show was about a week later. It was late on Friday. I was in my kitchen making a pizza. I had grown sick of frozen pizzas (bachelor's meal of choice), and was trying to roll out dough I had made from scratch. I was afraid of trying to toss it, New York style, lest it end up propelled by the ceiling fan into another room. The whole affair was taking far too long; by the time the pizza was done it would be about 10pm. How can it take 3 hours to make a simple pizza? The fact that I was on my 4th beer likely didn't help.

As I was rolling the dough, I was looking through the sliding glass door that went out on to the deck over the garage. I saw my cute neighbor girl (CNG) walking through her kitchen, with a towel on her head in a blue fluffy bath robe. She grabbed something out of the fridge, and seemed to just wander back out of her kitchen as quickly as she wandered in.

I saw the light go on in her bedroom, and had a somewhat clear view of the room. She walked in and lay down on her bed. She was apparently watching TV and eating some ice cream. Stereotypical girl night in.

Why would she be spending a night in? It was a Friday night. I could understand that I'd have nothing to do, but she should, right?

Between sneaking peeks across the drive and paying attention to the pizza dough, I had managed, finally, to get something that was round enough for my purposes. I smeared a little sauce on it, tossed on some onions, peppers and pepperoni and covered the whole mess with cheese. I slid it in the oven, figuring I'd have about 15 minutes to clean up the kitchen a bit before it was time to pull the pizza.

As I started to wipe up (how did I get flour on the fridge?) I noticed that my cute neighbor was evidently engaging in an interesting hobby.

She apparently found something on TV a bit of a turn on, as she had one hand in the front of her bathrobe. Her knees were up, and the robe had slid down, providing a clear view of her legs and most of her lower half. Her knees were together, so I couldn't get a clear view between them, but

I had a lovely show of her shapely ass. I couldn't see exactly where her hands were, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

I moved to my bedroom to get a better vantage point.

I turned off the light in the room, so she couldn't see me. I quickly unbuttoned my pants and kicked them off, along with my boxers. I must have looked insane, wearing a t-shirt and dark socks as I slowly worked my now really hard erection back and forth. Folks, I was one raincoat away from become everyone's mental image of Chester the Molester.

I was pretty much leaning against the window, watching her. She seemed to be going slowly, only her fingers moving. But, she was certainly going to town. I tried to keep pace with her. It wasn't everyday you watched someone getting off in person. Time to slow down and enjoy it.

CNG had moved one of her hands up under her robe, and was pinching a nipple. She had both hands going now, but still slowly. It was so hot watching her, it was just unbelievable. I had to keep slowing down; otherwise I would have come in about 30 seconds. Slowly, she opened her robe.

Now I could see everything. Her breasts had slid slightly to the side (real!), she was pinching her nipple again. She licked one of her fingers so they'd slide over her nipples more easily. Her other hand was moving back and forth quickly across her clit it looked like.

God, this was awesome. I kept going at a slow, and measured pace, wanting to end about the same time she did.

As she got closer I could see her start to arch her back, moving her pelvis upwards to meet her hand. Her other hand had left her boob and was clutching the bed sheets in a tight fist. I wondered if she was loud when she came, but this was a silent show. She fingers were a blur inside what must have been a very wet, very hot pussy. I could imagine the squishy sound of her quickly sliding between her think, pink lips.

With that her whole body rocked upward one final time as she thrusted, almost like a guy would. Then, she seemed to collapse like a marionette with its strings cut. She must have just come, and it looked awesome.

I stepped back a few paces, and lay down on my bed. I moved my hand faster and faster. I came within what must have been 30 seconds. I just seemed to come, and come. It was one of the best orgasms I had had in quite a while, and I had shot more and further than normal. I took off my now moist t-shirt and wiped off my stomach and my rapidly wilting dick. I stood, and tossed my shirt in the laundry hamper. I took one more look out of the window.

Oh shit.

She was looking right at me, hands cupped around her face and pressed against the glass so she could see. She was still wearing her robe, but it was open. Her beautiful tits were smashed right up against the window. Evidently, leaving my door open let in enough light for her to see me backlit, or maybe it was a street light and my white shirt.

I stood there, frozen for a moment.

She gave me a little half wave, so I waved back, almost automatically. I was embarrassed, and stood there like a deer in headlights.

She waved one more time, then reached over and turned off a light.

Click.

She was gone. Show's over folks. I sat down on my bed to catch my breath. I guess being caught watching and then being watched was as big a thrill as the orgasm itself.

At that moment, I smelled something starting to burn in the kitchen... If she was watching me now, she would have seen a guy wearing only socks and an oven mitt flailing around his kitchen.

About a week later, our VP of our small department in the company brought us all in to a conference room. It seems, now that we were past the holidays it was time for a reorg. Reorganization? I was a little unsure what to expect. (Some of the seasoned veterans around the office seemed not-too-perturbed about this; evidently the company enjoyed a fair amount of org-chart randomization periodically). I was a little freaked out, however. Could I be out of a job? I had just picked up my life and moved it to this God-forsaken snow globe of a city. I was a little worried.

Turns out, I need not have worried. Our group was going to be merged with a larger team. This meant I had to relocate my cubicle to another one on a different floor. So, I packed my office stuff in a few boxes and trucked it to the other side of the building.

I got there to find a cute surprise waiting for me.

"Hi, I'm Danni," my new cube mate introduced herself. She was cute, with blue eyes that literally sparkled. Her hair was a sandy brown with some blondish highlights, pulled back in a simple pony tail. Simple gold hoop earrings and an outfit that was slightly on the casual side of "business casual" completed the picture. As she moved, there seemed to be jiggles in all the right places. But, back to the smile. I love girls who smile. I love girls who give affection freely. I love girls who smile with their eyes as much as their mouth. Danni was one of those girls.

"Hi, I'm Phil," I stammered. "Nice to meet you." That was the sum total of my "How-to-impress-cute-coworkers-playbook" right there. I should have just grunted.

"I've seen you somewhere, haven't I?" she asked. I was certain that I hadn't, and I certainly didn't think this was her attempt at some sort of pick-up line.

"I don't think so, I'm sure I would remember your smile," was my response. I thought it was cool, and, honestly, the closest thing I could have gotten to thinking on my feet. Girls were like kryptonite with me until I got to know them a little better. Usually the brain was moving too fast and too blurry for the words to make sense. She kinda chuckled at my remark.

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