I already knew that he was there. Watching. Waiting. Every day I waited for the familiar thrill to start me off. Slowly, I felt the cool stare of his ice blue eyes raise the small hairs on the back of my neck. It was show time yet again, I thought as I gently loosened the silk scarf from around my neck and let it float down to my plain, black, stilettos.
By day, I was one of those non-descript office girls. You know the type: hair bunched back tightly to my head, make-up to the bare minimal and outfits that made my Mum look sexy in her velvet dress and thick black tights. It wasn't that I didn't want to be sexy: oh no, my boss made sure that any female inferior to her was made as frumpy and unsexy as possible in order to make her shine. So I went along with it, and in the long run it only made me wanted to be sexier by night.
It started about a month ago. There I was in my apartment, sunlight streaming through my wide set windows and falling luxuriously onto the naturally sun bleached wooden floors. After seven years of individually scraping every penny I owed to purchase this one bedroom suntrap. The only unfortunate thing was that, less than a few metres away stood another block of apartments, modern ones with fancy balconies and such like. Mine was a classic, Victorian model with sculptured ceilings and features that charmed the socks off me, and best of all it was all mine. No snotty flat mates, no awful sponging blokes. Yes, I guess it did get kind of lonely but the pros far outweighed the cons. On that particular day I had been rushed off my feet at the office, and as I stepped through my door I kicked off my shoes into the far corner, I paused to stand in the sunlight, allowing it to warm my back. Without shutting my blinds, I pulled off my starchy white blouse with one angry thrust and let my red curls free from their tightly bound clip. The sun warmed my freckled skin and, as I eased my skirt past my tiny thong I felt the now familiar eyes boring into my back. Quickly I span around, and there standing on a balcony opposite my beautiful, old window stood a man, open-mouthed, watching me. Now don't get me wrong, usually this sort of thing creeped me out, but curiously I couldn't help but realise that this was no normal peeping tom. His face was ruggedly handsome, his eyebrows knotted to guard his eyes from the beautiful sunshine. In his left hand hung a half cigarette, forgotten as he clearly enjoyed this quick, uninvited show from the balcony. Even from a few metres away I could see the visible outline of his semi-hard penis in the blazing hot sunshine. Seeing him seeing me was perhaps the most arousing thing I had been involved in in a long time – needless to say, being a single office girl in frumpy fashion didn't get you many numbers. But right now, here, I felt wanted. Unfortunately, exhibitionism wasn't my strong point and as a blush matching my hair crept up my cheeks, I fled to my adjoining bedroom, my wetness sticking to the little piece of fabric hiding the secrets of my desires.
This scenario went on for weeks, come rain or shine I made sure I gave my voyeur something to watch. I began putting matching underwear on every morning in order to indulge him, my watcher. Everyday, no matter how hard and trying my day was I waited until my evening to release all my steam in my usual manner. He always gave me his visible approval without saying a word, just watching me intently with that smouldering, piercing stare that would give me the material to masturbate over during the night. Although I did desire a relationship, this silent pact we held led me to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, and I was scared that anything more I asked for would be rebuked – or worse, a disappointment.
It wasn't until that Thursday night that my stress was at an all time high. I had ended up in the office until way past 8pm, and my anxiety to get home and put on my show was eating me alive. Regrettably, my orgasm intensity was beginning to wane so it was time to try something new, something so thrilling and daring that after tonight, nothing would hopefully penetrate my skin for the following week.
It began as normal. As I swung through my front door I noticed that dusk was beginning to settle and my sun-trap, although warm, was dull. Anxiously, swinging my big Chloe handbag and tweed jacket to the floor, I scuttled across my wooden floor, heels clicking with a fierce beat as I checked, hidden that he was there. In the half-light, I could see him staring into my flat, waiting as usual. I could just make out the faint burn of his cigarette in his left hand. Good, at least he was ready. Quickly, switching on my fake tiffany lamp, I gently pulled the scarf from my neck and, as I said before, let it float gently down to my stilettos. I urged myself not to look at him, let him think he had yet again caught me unaware. Today I had chosen a pale lilac blouse and, carefully and slowly, I unbuttoned the top, one by one, taking my time and making him wait as, inch by inch, my creamy white skin was exposed. By the last button, I checked on him, to make sure he was watching, and I could still make the faint line of his ever observant, lean frame. I tugged it off my arms, revealing my lean biceps, the fabric rustling against my sensitive skin. In response, my nipples peaked to attention, followed by a soft moan that escaped my throat. Already, just by removing my shirt, I felt my clitoris jump with the anticipation of what could happen, but I already knew what I was doing. Then, I trailed a red-taloned hand behind my back and slowly, painstakingly slowly, unzipped my expensive tweed skirt, stepping – stilletoed and all – out of the work clothes, becoming Sarah the red haired vixen. Just one more movement, I told my body as it shivered deliciously, and with a swift unclipping of my hair my red curls settled, ready, on my elegantly carved shoulders. I had become the self-loving temptress, ready to put on my one-woman show.
Suddenly, I saw his balcony light go on, his body edged with a soft white light. In his right hand I spotted a pair of binoculars, focused on me. My clitoris leapt with excitement, and even though I had expected the added thrill of the binoculars, my body ached with desire. Tenderly, I held my creamy, white breasts, which were spilling from my deep green bra set. In full view of this man, I stroked my nipples through the silky fabric, tweaking them and pinching them, sending electric shocks to the very heart of my yearning. I threw my head back in delight, arching my back as I slipped back into a carefully placed chair, my legs spread wide giving him a teasing view of what was to come. Slipping one bra strap down, I teased my own flesh, imagining his cool hands touching the same spots eagerly, his eyes roaming over my luscious milky skin. I bit my red lips gently, trying to subdue my desire, but my whole body was so turned on that I wanted to scream. The bra had to come off and, ensuring that the watcher was observing, I edged my bra off, revealing my small, pert breasts topped with two, cherry like buds. They popped out, hard and pointed, and quickly I strolled towards the window, gazing boldly in his directions.
I promised myself that tonight I would only masturbate in front of him, but here, in my stilettos, suspenders and deep green thong, I only wanted him. So, with my inhibitions shattered I beckoned him. The light at his apartment suddenly switched off, and, as I felt the wetness visibly soak my pants I shook with desire and fear: had I pushed it too far?
A few minutes later there was a knock at my door. I froze, still horny, still wet, but solid with fear. Had he reported me? Was it him? Was it my mother? Quickly slipping on my coal silk gown, which was like melted chocolate coating my energized skin. With dread I approached the door, and fearfully opened it.
"Hello," he said quietly, a bottle of champagne in his hand, "That was quite a show tonight." His ice blue eyes were glued on my rock hard nipples that teasingly peaked from the fabric, and his erection became more blatantly visible through the grey trousers.
"Hi," I said, "come in." I stepped back from the door and waited for him to slip his suit jacket off, and as he did he revealed a white shirt barely covering his well-toned chest.
For a moment, we simply gazed at each other; but then he began to approach me, and pulled me urgently towards him while diligently removing my silk gown. His big, manly hands held my small breasts, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the small buds, making me once again shiver in delight. Instantaneously, he pushed his body against mine, his erection pressing directly against my soaking wet groin causing me to groan out loud. In return, I ripped his shirt off, and, momentarily began to stroke his chest, mesmerised; then I continued to tug his trousers down. There, in his muscular glory, was a modern day Adonis there for my taking and I trembled with delight as he groaned into my neck.
"You're amazing," he groaned, pulling aside the thong, while I ran my hand down his shaft, causing his muscles to tense with pleasure. Shuddering, he began to gaze intently at my glistening wet folds, "Everyday, you drive me wild...I just need to have you." With that, he knelt and buried his face into me, his tongue exploring every part of me, sucking my juices while his magical thumbs span circles on my clitoris.
"Stop!" I gasped, as he looked up from between my legs, "You'll make me come. I want to come with you inside me." He grinned wolfishly, and in one swift movement, whipped his Calvin Klein underwear off and grabbed a condom from his wallet.
"I was hoping you'd say that," he said, his pupils dilated with desire as he eased the latex on. I pulled him down on top of me, and, while I held my thong aside to enter me, I felt a scream whelm up inside me as those weeks of pent up desire came to a head. At first he teased me, only allowing me to have the head of his penis inside until I begged him for more, and then, grinning, he pulled my smooth white thighs up to allow a deeper thrust and began to deeply fill me, and within moments of each other, excitement and indulgence overtaking our pleasure, we came, my screams filling the old, Victorian apartment...
For a few moments, he lay inside me, his penis spurting into the latex walls giving me little frissions of delight. Slowly, as the orgasm subsided I could feel the embarrassment snaking back into the atmosphere as I couldn't fill the void of silence.
"Look," he said, gently easing out of me "I don't really do this sort of thing. You see, I work in an office, and I didn't mean to watch you but it was the perfect way to end a hard day. I hope you'll forgive me, and let me take you out for the night?" I grinned, recognising the irony of the situation.
"Sure that would be great," I said, "by the way, I'm Laura."
"And I'm Shaun, pleased to meet you," he said murmured, grinning, stroking my turmoil of red hair. "Now how about a glass of champagne?" he said, standing up, his brown hair mussed softly.
"That would be great," I said again, flinching at my repetition, my stress leaving me entirely and replaced with the prospect of further nights of passion. And who said stress was bad for you?
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