Show Off

I decided, however, to look out the window one last time. I slid out of bed and moved just beside the window, glancing out towards Mr. Parkman's window. The room was still dark, but I could have sworn I saw a beam of light just fading as someone closed the door. I grinned, crawling back into bed and curling up, knowing I was likely just imagining it, but enjoying the idea anyways.

That night was the beginning of a routine I kept for the next few days. At first, it was terrifying. I never would have done anything like that until I realised what a rush it was. I would go up to bed just after the sky darkened, knowing that the fantasy would be ruined if I could see into Mr. Parkman's den before I got undressed. Each night, I got more and more adventurous, wondering if Mr. Parkman was watching me, wondering if he knew I could see him, wondering if he got hard watching me. The thoughts made me blush but it seemed so naughty, so forbidden, that I couldn't help myself – every night I ended up in bed, my hand between my legs as I thought about him sitting in that chair, maybe with his cock in his hand, watching me undress.

When I think back on it, I must have been so obvious. The first night I undressed, I had done it unconsciously, thinking Mr. Parkman had gone to bed. The second night, I faced the window as I unhooked my bra, pretending to be looking at my reflection from the side in the mirror. The night after that, I turned my back to the window, and if Mr. Parkman really was sitting there, he got a full view of my round ass and dripping pussy when I bent down to pull my panties off. I started wearing my sexiest panties and bra sets, and prancing around my room naked for much longer than I usually did – until I couldn't take it anymore, until I had to touch myself. After a few days, I stopped waiting until I was lying in my bed. I mean, most nights I snuck my hand between my legs for a few moments, just to feel myself, but one night I turned my bedside lamp on, settled myself against my dresser, spread my legs, and proceeded to finger-fuck myself until I came hard, in full view of anyone who might or might not be sitting in Mr. Parkman's den.

I should have felt bad about what I was doing, now that I think about it. I never really considered that if Mr. Parkman was watching me, it meant he wasn't with his wife. But I was so horny when I was in my room, thinking about Mr. Parkman watching me, that I never really even considered it. I really liked Mrs. Parkman, but truth be told, I had never even seen the Parkman's kiss or touch or hold hands or anything. Even my parents would kiss in front of me, and hold hands, and act like every other couple in love, and I had the feeling that my parents were either really quiet or that my mom as a frigid prude because I never heard them having sex.

Like I said, though, I never thought about it. Every night I would try to come up with new ways to show off for Mr. Parkman, even though I was never really sure that he was actually there – for all I knew, I was just caught up in my fantasy world, showing off for an imaginary person in the next house. As the days went on, I found myself wondering more and more if he was watching me. I wanted to know if he liked what he saw. If he knew I was doing it just for him. That last one was the one that especially ate at me. Each night, as I was undressing, I would glance at his den window at least once, hoping he would see me, hoping he was as turned on as I was.

My little shows soon became a ritual, and even though it was only about a week later, I felt like I had been doing it for ever. I didn't see either of the Parkman's that week, though I knew Mrs. Parkman had visited my mom at least twice. Both times, I had been out job hunting. I didn't know if Mr. Parkman had come over at all. If he did, I never saw him, and I was dying to – if I saw him, maybe he would give me some sort of clue about if he saw my little shows or not. Either way, it had been the most sexually satisfying week of my life as of yet, all thanks to Mr. Parkman, and he hadn't even touched me. He hadn't done anything, really, except potentially sit in a chair facing my bedroom window. And as nice as the results had been, I was craving more.

I didn't have to wait long for it. One night, shortly after, everything changed.

It started off the same way as the past few nights had started. My eyes were practically glued to the window, waiting for the last few rays of the sun to go down so I could run upstairs to my room. On that particular night, my parents were out – my mom had dragged my dad to some charity fundraiser. My dad hated going to them, and I was nearly guaranteed he would be drunk out of his mind within the first hour and having fun within the next, so they wouldn't be home until much later that night. So on that night, I didn't have to take nearly as many precautions – the TV wasn't even on, I simply sat on the couch in the living room, looking at the sunset out the front window.

The second I couldn't see any more sunlight, I ran upstairs. I began unbuttoning my jeans in the hallway, lifting up my T-shirt as I crossed my room and turned the lamp on. By that point, I had stopped checking for the beam of light in Mr. Parkman's den. It didn't do me much good to look for it anyway, as I would never be certain whether he was there or not.

I don't know what made me do it – the fact that my parents weren't home, the fact that I had been a little more daring every night – but I did things a little differently that night.

I started by practically tearing my clothes off. My jeans were already slipping down my hips, and I had my T-shirt up over my head. I hadn't worn a bra that day, so my tits just bounced out of my top as I took it off. I threw it to the floor, tossing my head a bit to get my hair out of my face. I then stood in the middle of my room, topless, my jeans around my hips, showing just the top of my lacy black panties. I faced the window as I slid my jeans down my legs, slower than I had ripped my shirt off, and stepped out of them.

It went against every aspect of my shy personality, but I then looked straight out my window, at the square of black that was Mr. Parkman's den window. I stepped forward, slowly, until I was directly in front of the window. I raised one hand, resting it on the window frame, as I slowly slipped the other hand into my tiny little panties. I stared at the window, my heart pounding, knowing that if Mr. Parkman was there he must nearly be having a heart attack at my blatant display. If he was there, and if he had been wondering if I knew he was there, it was definitely clear now. I fingered my clit, biting my lip as I stared out the window, my fingers sliding along my dripping slit, so close to the window that my tits were nearly pressing against the glass. My nipples were so hard that they brushed against the glass when I moved, the coolness of the glass making me jump and shiver.

I was nervous, watching Mr. Parkman's window, hoping he was in the room watching me. I was out on a very long limb here, taking a huge step, making it known that I was showing off for Mr. Parkman. I don't know what I was expecting, if I thought the room would just stay dark. If I thought that Mr. Parkman would reciprocate my step forward. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I didn't think about it then, either, as I fingered my clit, working myself towards an orgasm.

I was breathing hard, my eyes half-shut as I moved my fingers hard and fast. I could feel myself getting close, and I gasped, moaning out loud. My hips bucked forward to meet my fingers, and I was just on the edge, ready to cum, when the light in Mr. Parkman's den flicked on.

I cried out, stumbling back from the window, but my body was ready to cum and I couldn't stop my orgasm from quaking through my body. I moaned, trembling as I looked out the window, not knowing whether I was in trouble or if my sex life was about to get a lot more exciting.

Mr. Parkman was sitting in his chair, the door closed, the lamp on the table next to him on as he stared out the window. It wasn't until the phone on my bedside table rang that I realised that he was holding a phone to his ear. Suddenly nervous, our eyes locked, I pulled my hand out of my panties and took a step forward, picking up the phone on the third ring.

He didn't let me say hello. "Put on a long coat and go wait in front of your house," he said. My mouth was half-open, still ready to say hello, and I stared at him for a long moment. My heart was pounding harder than it had been all night, and I felt dizzy and almost drunk as I nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Parkman," I finally whispered into the phone.

"Two minutes," he ordered, then hung up the phone and turned the light off.

I stood frozen for a moment, then nearly tripped over my own two feet as ran to my closet. The longest coat I had was a spring jacket from the year before, and I didn't know if it would fit. I pulled it off the hanger and slipped onto it. It was fine until I tried to do it up over my breasts. Cursing, I tried whatever I could to get the buttons done up over my tits, which were two cup sizes bigger than when I had bought it. I managed to just get it done up, but the material was strained to the point that my skin was showing through the holes between each button and I didn't know that the button would stay on if I moved suddenly. If I bent forward, for example, it tightened around my tits, not allowing me to breathe. I didn't have enough time to care, though, and I did up the rest of the jacket. It just barely covered my ass, but Mr. Parkman had said a long coat – I assumed that meant no pants, no skirt. I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to keep my panties on but I decided to risk it. I grabbed the first pair of shoes I saw, which were a pair of strappy heeled sandals I had worn to my high school graduation, and ran downstairs. I slipped them on at the front door, scribbled a note to my parents telling them I'd gone to a friends, and left, locking the door behind me.

Mr. Parkman's car was waiting in front of my house. I was shaking, I was so excited, wondering where he was going to bring me – after all, it's not like we were going back to his place if he had gotten his car out. I hurried towards it, my heels clicking on the driveway. The passenger door was open, and I slipped in as best I could, though I'm pretty sure Mr. Parkman got an eyeful of my black panties as I struggled to manoeuvre in the tight jacket I was wearing.

He let me get settled, and I found myself staring at my hands in my lap, too nervous to actually look at him. It was silent in his car, and he didn't start driving. I could feel his eyes on me, looking at me, likely staring at the strained material covering my breasts, and I knew my skin was flushed from my cheeks to the base of my neck. Though, in all fairness, most of that was from the extreme amount of arousal I was feeling rather than any kind of embarrassment. The silence between us was the only thing more unbearable than the tension, and Mr. Parkman finally broke it by reaching one hand out and touching my shoulder tentatively. I could see him open his mouth out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what to say. Even just the slight pressure of his hand against my shoulder was making my entire body tingle. I turned my head to look at him.

"Haley... if..." he started to say. I knew where it was going – he had that tone like he was going to tell me I could leave if I wanted and while I wasn't sure where things were headed with us, I knew I didn't want to hear that. So I put my hands on Mr. Parkman's shoulders and pulled myself close to him across the front seat, kissing him hard.

Whatever he was going to say, it was lost. Mr. Parkman's hands were on me in an instant, on my arms, my breasts, my waist. He held me as close as he could across the seats, kissing me hard, his tongue tracing my bottom lip before he bit down on it lightly, making me cry out. He cupped one of my breasts with one large hand, my tits still more than his one hand could hold. My nipples were hard, my jacket so tight that it almost hurt as they strained against the material.

Mr. Parkman moved his lips from my lips to my jawbone, then towards my neck and just under my ear. "You're such a tease," he growled, biting me gently. I moaned softly and he squeezed my breast harder. "I felt horrible about watching you. Felt like a dirty old man spying on my gorgeous little neighbour. Then you started showing off, prancing around like a dirty fucking slut." I cried out when he called me a slut, partially because he punctuated his sentence with another nip on my neck. "I can't believe the little girl I used to watch when her parents went out turned into such a whore."

I wanted to tell him that I wasn't a whore, but he brought his lips back up to mine and kissed me hard. "Please Haley, tell me you want this... tell me it's okay..." he mumbled against my lips.

I hesitated for just a moment – now that things were so real, I was suddenly incredibly concerned with a lot of things I hadn't thought about before. The fact that Mr. Parkman kept switching gears was confusing me, too – ready to ask me if things were okay, then calling me a slut, then asking me again. "I want it, Mr. Parkman," I whispered, finally answering him. "But... Mrs. Parkman..."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about her," he said, cupping my cheek. "She's okay with it. She loves letting me fuck other women. She likes to watch sometimes."

My mouth dropped open, and Mr. Parkman laughed. "She saw you the other night and knew in a second that I'd want to fuck you. Why do you think she was talking about you like that?"

I could hardly believe what he was telling me, and Mr. Parkman just chuckled, pulling me close to him again and kissed me, his hand firmly gripping my hair. "How did you know I was watching you, hmm?" he asked as he kissed me.

"I hoped," I gasped. "I didn't know if you were there or not."

"What made you think I'd be there in the first place?"

His mouth moved to the base of my neck as I explained to him how I saw the light from the hallway, and then how it was gone. He kissed and nipped at my skin, sucking lightly, just light enough to not leave a mark on my fair skin.

"You nearly drove me crazy when I saw you. If it weren't for your parents I would have grabbed you and fucked your young little cunt right there," he said.

"God, Mr. Parkman..." I whispered. I had no idea Mr. Parkman was so dirty – in the good way, of course. His words were making my cunt throb. My panties were already so wet from before that my juices were starting to coat my thighs. I had no doubt that Mr. Parkman would be buried deep in my pussy by the end of the night, and as much as I was looking forward to it, I was also a little scared. Mr. Parkman didn't know I was a virgin, and I'm pretty sure he was assuming I wasn't one. I didn't know how to tell him, though – I loved the way he was talking to me, and I knew that if I told him he would stop. So, I had no plans to say anything.

We stayed there for a bit, until Mr. Parkman pulled himself away. "We'll go somewhere else, in case your parents come back," he said. "Is that okay, Haley?" I nodded and he started the car. After he turned the corner, he put his hand on my thigh, which was bare – the jacket had ridden up to the point where my panties were almost showing.

He rubbed my thigh as he drove, his eyes on the road, but his hand slowly moving up my leg, until he was stroking my pussy through my lacy black panties. He teased me, keeping his fingers away from my clit and just feeling my pussy lips through my panties. I tilted my head back in the seat, so excited that I could hardly breathe. "Mr. Parkman, please..." I begged.

"Oh baby," he said, but his fingers still just teased my pussy. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," I gasped immediately. His hand cupped my pussy, grinding his palm into me. I raised my hips to meet his palm, but he wasn't going to let me get what I wanted.

"Tell me how you like it," he ordered.

I froze. I should have just made something up, I know that, but I honestly couldn't think of anything in my state. My mouth just opened, but nothing came out. Mr. Parkman glanced at me. "Did you hear me?"

"I-I don't know, Mr. Parkman," I whispered, looking down at my lap. My legs were spread just wide enough for his hand to fit between them, and I bit my lip at the sight.

"Don't know how you like to be fucked?" he repeated. I shook my head, blushing. I couldn't believe he didn't get it, but then, I guess people don't just 'get things' like they seem to in movies. Plus, Mr. Parkman had good reason – I did act like a slut for him, stripping for him, teasing him... he had every reason to assume I had lost my virginity. "Come on," he said when I didn't answer. "You must have a favourite."

"I'm sure I will, once I try some," I whispered, seeing no way around telling him. Mr. Parkman frowned for a moment, then realised what I meant.

"Haley... you're a virgin?" he said.

"Yes, but I want to keep doing like we're doing, Mr. Parkman, please don't stop..." I said quickly, moaning in disappointment as removed his hand from my pussy. "Please, I want to so badly!"

"I know, baby," he said. "But if this is your first time, it's happening the right way."

"The right way...?" I repeated. "I didn't know there was a wrong way."

He laughed. "There isn't really, but I'm not... I mean, I don't want you to lose your virginity in the backseat of a car." His hand returned to my thigh, but much lower, in comforting way rather than a sexual way. "I still have to look out for you."

I blushed, and knew at that moment that if anyone was going to take my virginity, I wanted it to be Mr. Parkman. At least he cared about me – I mean, sure, it would be nice to lose my virginity to a guy I loved, but for one, I didn't want to miss out on all that sex before I got married, and another, based on the fact that guys my age were inconsiderate douchebags, it would take a long time to get a guy who treated me as good as Mr. Parkman was. That, and someone who could was that good to me and could still say the dirtiest things. I put my hand on top of his and smiled.

We drove quietly, and I knew Mr. Parkman was looking at my breasts every chance he got to glance over. His hand moved ever so slightly on my thigh, ensuring I was just as ready as ever when he stopped in front of a hotel that was known to be pretty fancy. I looked at Mr. Parkman, incredulous.

He cut me off before I could protest. "You deserve somewhere nice," he said, leaning across the seat to kiss my forehead.

"Mr. Parkman, I can't go in there the way I'm dressed!" I exclaimed.

He laughed. "They won't even notice."

He was sure wrong about that. I mean, even as I got out of the car, I flashed my soaking panties at Mr. Parkman, and anyone else who might have been in the parking lot. Mr. Parkman took my arm in his as we walked into the hotel. He kissed my forehead before going to the front desk. I waited in the lobby, biting my lip, feeling like everyone was looking at me. They probably were – my ass was almost hanging out of my jacket, my nipples poking out the front, my heels making me look like a hooker. I blushed and looked at the floor until Mr. Parkman came up and took my arm again.

Our room was on one of the top floors, and because it was so late, we were the only ones on the elevator. Mr. Parkman took the opportunity to press me against the wall, his body pressed against mine for the first time that night, and kiss me hard. I moaned as I felt his cock pressing against me, his large hands ravishing my body, touching every bit of me he could get his hands on. I could have spread my legs right there and let him have me, but the elevator stopped. The doors open just a bit too quickly, giving the people waiting a view of a man old enough to be my father with his hands on my breasts. I blushed and the woman waiting laughed awkwardly before I grabbed Mr. Parkman's hand and pulled him off the elevator.