"Is that what you meant before when you said that you liked what you were thinking?" she asked me.

"That's part of it, Nancy. Will you do it?"

She didn't answer, but in another moment she turned away and went into the little bathroom next to where she was standing. In somewhere between three minutes and 100 hours she came back. And now I could easily see the darker areas that defined her nipples and a button at the top of her dress that had been buttoned before was now unbuttoned. Life is good! She stood allowing my inspection. Waiting.

"Would you go back to what you were doing again for me?" As if eager to get back to that activity herself, but with no discernible change in her intense observation of my face, her hands quickly returned to their task. Clearly her palms found it easier to massage the undersides of her breasts based on the fluid movement of those lovely orbs under the light material. And now her finger tips easily surrounded her nipples, even pulling them out away from her body periodically. Oh, they swelled so nicely. If only I could wiggle my nose and make the dress disappear. Finally I asked her, "Does that feel as good to you as it looks to me?"

"Yes, it feels good, partly because you're watching me. I can't really believe I'm doing this in front of God and everybody. But I don't know how it looks to you." A straight line if I've ever heard one. And, boy, did I have a number of responses planned.

"No one in the world can see you except me. Not from the street, nor the back yards. Any one who looked over the back fence would see me standing here at the screen door talking to someone, but they couldn't see through the screen at this angle to determine who it was." Now that I could be sure that Nancy realized the total privacy of her show, I felt better. "Furthermore, I'm very glad that playing with your breasts feels good to you. You deserve to feel good a lot." How could any woman fail to find that a pleasing sentence? Continuing, I said, "And I would rather think that my watching you would add to your feelings, not detract from them." Long pause, but the nipple play continued unabated. Once in a while her eyes would slowly close, then reopen. At those moments I made little movements to get closer to her without it becoming obvious that the gap between us was closing. I eventually wanted to be about two feet away from her. With her elevated position in the house, my straight-ahead view was about at her collar bone level. Perfect for all that I hoped to accomplish in this first try.

"Nancy?" She looked back at my face again and made some little sound of recognition. "Would you reach inside your top and touch your bare nipple?" She nodded, and undid the obvious button that would allow her access and reached inside her dress with her hand. Oh, it looked nice. Timing things as well as I could, the next time she closed and then opened her eyes she caught me adjusting myself. Her eyes instantly dropped to my crotch, and I pulled my hand away quickly as if I was startled to have been caught. She pulled her hand out of the top of her dress and opened the button above and the button below the one she had already opened. Now when she reinserted her hand to play with her nipple, the top of her dress opened easily. I would say it gaped open except that from straight ahead of her, I didn't get any better view. But I hoped to improve that soon.

Added to her closing her eyes periodically was now a movement. She was squeezing muscles in her abdomen in some manner, which caused visible movement of her hips. Yes, yes, yes. The next time she closed and opened her eyes I again adjusted myself, taking longer than the last time. Of course I was fixated on what her hands were doing so I wouldn't have known she was watching me, would I? When I finally looked back up at her face she was looking at mine, intently. "I want to see what your hand is doing inside your dress," I sort of croaked.

"I thought you could see. Through my dress."

Aha! The game is afoot. Now she was becoming the temptress she had every right to believe she was. Staying in part I bumblingly said, "But if you could turn a little I could see your hand on your nipple. Not through the dress, I mean, but . . . inside the dress . . . your bare hand on your bare nipple . . . where you unbuttoned it."

Turning almost enough she asked, "Like this, Tim?" Before I could answer she moved more and said, "Or like this?" After I nodded, she continued with, "Is this what you were thinking earlier, Tim? Tell me what you were thinking about."

Sometimes a plan has to take a back seat to plain old-fashioned voyeurism. Her breast was scrumptious looking. Her nipple was quite stiff and she kept tweaking it. I should ask her to wet her fingers. Eventually I had to get my hands and my mouth on her. I would do everything I knew how to do to drive her crazy with lust. She pulled her hand out but made sure her dress stayed open for me. What a beautiful breast. Then her hand reappeared in my line of view and she went back to her nipple. Damn. She had wet her fingers. One of us must be telepathic. Now her nipple really sat up smartly.

"Tim? What were you thinking about before?"

Okay. She was definitely in the plan. She wanted to hear words. She wanted to hear words about her and her sexuality. I was ready. I didn't know if her thinking went so far as her eventually having an orgasm right here in front of me, but mine now did. "When we were out in the driveway and your nipples started to push out against your dress I wanted to see them. Well I didn't just want to see them I also ... wanted to touch them. Your whole breast, I mean, but especially your nipples." Yes. That's what she wanted to hear, so I continued. "And I wanted to kiss your breasts and suck on your nipples for a long time. And lick the underside of your breasts. I would be good at sucking on your nipples. Also, I'd nibble on them if you liked that. Maybe scrape my teeth across the tips of your nipples. Of course I'd be good at spending a long time sucking more than just your nipples. That sort of stuff is some of what I was thinking," I finished, slowly. She was shifting her feet now, squeezing her abdominal muscles more often and looking at my face and my crotch alternately. Did you notice the suggestion that I would also like to suck on her pussy? I was fervently hoping she did. That was really risky because there are those who think that that is somewhere between wrong and disgusting. If she was one of those I might be turning her off instead of on. There was an intensity about her face that I clearly recognized. She was on the roller coaster, couldn't get off, didn't want to get off, but also didn't know where the ride ended. I did. It's right there in the plan. Now was the time to end the bumbling Tim. Now Tim, the Destiny Guide, needed to take over, so to speak.

"Does the word 'pussy' upset you, Nancy?" Dead silence. "The reason men, but at least me for sure, like that term is because kittens are so cute, so warm and cuddly, so satisfying, precious, lovable. I like the word pussy." Nancy, maybe absently, put her left hand at her mound and pressed through her dress for a moment. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she started to move her hand away, paused, and put it back as if daring me to look there. Of course I did look there. So I very quietly continued. "That's another thing I was thinking about. You touching your pussy. Imagining you getting wet and slippery. Your panties getting sticky with your wetness." Looking back up at her face and seeing her eyes closed clinched it. We were going all the way to a point where she masturbated herself to an orgasm. Right in front of me. The only question in my mind now was would I be privileged to see it. Even see it clearly.

"I wish that was my hand, Nancy. Touching you lovingly. Pushing in between your pussy lips to find your clit. Rubbing up and down each side of your warm nest. Dipping lower to get my finger wetter so it would slide around your center."

"Mmmmmm," was her response and my reward. When she opened her eyes to look at me they were glazed.

"You could get better contact if you pulled your dress up and your fingers were right on your panties." She was looking at me through her haze, her middle finger moving rhythmically. With her other hand she reached up to her shoulder and pulled her dress top enough off of her shoulder to fully expose her right breast, then fondled her breast while rubbing her pussy through her dress and panties. I was en rapt. There may be no other sight in the world to match a woman pleasing herself, unless it's me pleasing her. Call me selfish. She was so lost in what she was doing, and watching me look at her, that I wasn't sure she had actually heard me.

With a little simpering sound in her voice she whispered, "Yes." Then using both hands she gathered up the front of her dress until her panty-covered mound was clearly visible. My eyes were riveted to that spot. Putting her right hand back against her mound, there-by holding up her dress with her wrist, her middle finger again massaged her cleft. Her left hand returned to pulling and worrying her right nipple. Finally I could see her legs all the way up to her groin. I knew they would be nice legs, and they were. Woman's legs, with soft inner thighs.

"That is so beautiful. You are beautiful. I could watch you do that for hours," I said to her softly. At the top of her thighs was a nice wide space. A face could fit in there quite comfortably. With her legs only slightly spread, her thighs didn't touch. And they looked so soft and warm. I could imagine how they would feel against my ears. "Put your hand inside your panties so that your fingers touch your sweet pussy directly. I want to imagine I can see you actually stroking your lips and teasing your clit."

As if totally mesmerized, she slowly moved her hand up to the band of her panties, got her fingers inside the waistband, and slid them back down to her heat. They were clearly visible moving around her treasure. It was even obvious when she moved her hand in such a way that she could extend her middle finger and slip it into her cunt. "Yes," I said. "Slide your finger in and out of yourself. Rub your clit with your palm. That looks so good." Saying that I squatted down a foot from her and just gave myself over to staring at her hand. She watched me move, but I wasn't trying to touch her. She continued fingering herself and began moaning repeatedly. She was sort of watching me, sort of watching herself masturbate in front of me, and sort of lost in her own space. Now her hips began moving spasmodically. She had to be close. I looked up at her and said, "Nancy. I want to pull your panties down enough that I can see your fingers loving your pussy. I have to see that." She nodded slowly, like it was difficult to control someone else's head. I reached forward, grasped the band of her panties next to her hand, and slowly pulled them down in front until I could see her hand over her pussy with the middle finger obviously buried deep up inside her. After watching her finger-fuck herself for a while, which I was fairly sure she was doing mostly for me, I told her to pull her finger out and rub her clit. She was clenching her pussy a lot, now, and her knees seemed to have a little trouble staying locked. When she drew her finger out of herself it glistened with her secretions. And her pussy sort of followed it out as if unwilling to give up the contact. Now I could clearly smell her arousal. Woman in heat. Exciting my senses.

Using her left hand now, for the first time, she spread her lips open with two fingers. Her coral pink flesh was slick with her excitement and her clit was about half exposed from under its hood. Oh, what a soft, warm tongue could do with that little pearl. Her right middle finger went back to sliding up one side of her opening and down the other. Then back and forth a bit just under her clit, then up and down again. She was hunching now. I don't know any other word for it. If she had been lying on her back she would have been pushing her ass up repeatedly to increase the contact on her clit. She was fucking against her hand. It was glorious. She was so close, working so hard at it. Staring down at herself as if her eyes could pull her orgasm from her loins. I was afraid she would lose it if she didn't come soon.

"Put your finger in my mouth," I directed her. She stopped moving her hand, but not her hips, and just looked at me. "I want to taste your finger. The one you had up inside yourself. Let me suck your finger so that when you put it back on your clit, part of me will be there, too."

She moved her hand toward my face extending her middle finger. As soon as my mouth closed around it and my tongue began licking it inside my mouth, she uttered her first actual word in at least the last 15 minutes. "Oh, God!"

That was good enough for me. I moved her hand back to her pussy with my hand, and kept my hand in contact with hers. "Now come for me, Nancy. Let me watch you come. Then give me more of you to taste after you come. Come for me!"

And she did. It wracked her whole body. I thought she was going to lose control of her knees, but she held on. Her moans were so satisfying to me. Most of her sounds were unintelligible, but I liked them. Every now and again I heard my name, or God, or thank you. More than enough return on my investment.

By the time that she recovered enough to focus on me again I was standing about 3 feet away, looking at her lovingly. When she started to look flustered and embarrassed at what she had just done I reminded her that she owed me something. That distracted her momentarily. "You were going to dip into your sweet pussy after your orgasm and let me taste your come. It's my reward. And I want to taste the beautiful woman's come. Now." She stepped back into the house a little more, reached up under her dress with both hands, and pulled down her panties. After she stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor, she pulled her dress up in front, all the way to her waist, fully exposing her legs, her very wet pussy, and the base of her belly. She was doing all of this very deliberately for me. And probably for her enjoyment of my enjoyment of her. Then she squatted down a bit, spreading her knees, and with her left hand she again opened her pussy. She paused to let me look. I stepped up to the doorway and bent down to look closely. Using both her right index and middle fingers she rubbed them from the bottom of her pussy all the way up to the sides of her clit. Then she extended her fingers to my mouth and watched me as I licked and sucked them clean. She was en rapt at the sight. Hell, I was en rapt at the whole thing. "Again," I said. And as she again moved her fingers over her pussy I added, "Inside, too. Push your fingers up inside your passage and then give them to me." She did exactly that, watching me closely. It almost doesn't get better than this.

Standing up and moving back to my original position by the screen door I just looked at her. She dropped her dress front, but just stood there. "Thank you, Nancy. That was a precious experience. You are a beautiful woman. And all woman. And very tasty, and very desirable."

"I should be thanking you. Even though I can't believe I just did that, I loved it. No one could have convinced me that I would ever have put on such a display for anyone and enjoyed it, Tim."

"Not anyone?" I asked her.

"No one has ever seen me . . . masturbate."

"Make love to yourself," I corrected her immediately.

"Make love to myself," she repeated just as immediately. "And I never thought any one would ever see me do that. But knowing you were watching. . . Trusting that you would not touch me or try to take over . . . was so exhilarating. So sensual. So . . . precious. I loved it!"

"Good. Now I have a question for you. Is there a switch that shuts off that big, bright light under the carport?"

For a moment she was taken aback at the abrupt change in the conversation. Then she simply said, "Yes."

"Well, it's 6:15 now. In two hours it will be dark out. If that light is out at 8:15, instead of brightening up both of our driveways, I'm going to come back over here. But not to stand outside the door. I have some unfinished business to take care of. Shouldn't take more than two hours or so." That stunned her, I know.

"Uh . . . well . . . uh." Significant pause while she gathered herself together mentally.

"Just because you had a nice orgasm doesn't mean you're finished. You need another. And maybe another. Plus, I'm not much in favor of tasting your pussy second hand, as it were." She started to say something but I charged on. "Add to that the fact that I didn't get to fondle your succulent breasts nor suck on your nipples." Again she started to say something, but again I just kept right on talking. "In addition, I didn't get to see the rest of your body, or play with your ass, which my hands long to do. And," I stampeded through her upraised hand and open mouth, "I want to see you on top of me impaling yourself on Timothy Junior's seven and-a-half inches of very aroused heat while I touch you all over. Now, you wanted to tell me to go fly a kite, or something even worse?"

"No, Tim. I wanted to tell you that the light would be off, the bed will be turned down, and I will once again place myself in your hands, to do with as you wish." That last was said very quietly, very fervently.

"Could you be wearing something long, like a big tee shirt so that I would have to search for everything that I want to find, at least until I whup it off of you?" I asked just before I walked away. "I would really like that."

"So would I, and I will."

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