by Slowhand ©
Her breath came heavy as she undid the top three buttons of her white silk blouse. All she could see in the huge picture window was her own reflection, but she knew he was there, watching. He was always there. When she turned off the lights, she could see him, a silhouette in the window across the street. Just dark and indistinct enough to be almost anyone she wanted. She did this for him nearly every night, it had become a routine. It had ceased to be as exciting as it was at first, this strip tease for a total stranger. She let the blouse fall open and slip down her smooth shoulders. She had pondered new ways to bring the fun back into it, she didn't want to just stop.
Whoever he was, his enthusiasm apparently never wavered, he stood there every night, hands splayed against the glass to hold him up. He was always perfectly still, except for the occasional scratch or foot shuffle. She stepped lightly across the room while undoing her strict businesslike skirt. In the beginning, the act was a revelation. It was something new, something daring yet secure. After the first time, she lay awake for hours, lost in the memory while pleasuring herself. Her skirt fell to the floor, and she approached the window in her underwear. She ran her fingers through her jet black hair with her left hand, while fingering the waist of her purple lace panties with the right. She moved her hand up her stomach, covered in goosebumps even after all this time. The strap of her lace bra slid off her shoulder as she took the clasp between her fingers. With a soft snap, the pressure that confined her breasts released, and she let the bra fall down her back.
The apartment was cold, just as she liked it, and her small pink nipples stood erect with exposure. She took a moment to study herself in the glass. Her smallish breasts were still firm, she smoothed one to her chest with her palm, and watched it bob back into place. Her stomach wasn't quite as flat as she liked, but it still looked good. Her long legs were still sleek, thanks to her exercise bike. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, turned her back to the window, and slowly pulled them down past her shiny black high heels. She always enjoyed the feel of the air on her bare bottom, and she lingered a moment, enjoying the sensation. With a deep breath, she stood back up and faced the window. Usually at this point, she turned off the light and the show was over for the evening.
Tonight however, she had decided to expand the performance. With a slight smile, she ran her hands up her thighs, over her belly, settling on her breasts. She pinched her swollen nipples between her thumb and forefinger, and began to rub them gently. A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips, the old passion was back with a vengeance. Her right hand moved back down, brushing the tips of her soft pubic hair. She pressed two fingers to her burning crotch, and her back arched involuntarily. She was in rapture, masturbating in front of her window stranger. She worked her fingers around in slow circles, eyes closed, breathing heavily. She turned around again and fell to her hands and knees. Her left hand moved around to rub her rear, spreading it slightly in the window. She braced herself with her right hand, and moved the left between her legs, rubbing vigorously. She bucked up and down with the motion, lost in ecstasy.
She was so wet that she could feel it on her thighs, trickling down slowly. For the grand finale, she thrust her middle finger inside, and pumped it with a cry of passion. She was on the edge of orgasm, and she upped her pace to a frantic level until it overcame her, like an explosion of white light. For a few long seconds, nothing existed but pure pleasure. Her senses began to creep back, her own distant cries sounded strange. The room began to materialize again, her right arm quivered with the effort of holding her weight. She collapsed to the floor and curled up, hand still between her legs. She lay like that for a few minutes, enjoying every last wave of the orgasm. Finally, she stood and faced the window once again. She wondered how he had enjoyed her show. She blew a kiss to her reflection, and left the room, switching off the lights behind her.
Daytime life was much more routine. She worked at an advertising firm, in a tiny cubicle lost in a sea of other tiny cubicles. All day long she proofread little ads for toothpaste, deodorant, and other such frivolous toiletries. The repression she suffered at work was all worked out in her nightly shows. The need to get out, to do something, never really manifested anymore. She had been sheltered for so long, her antisocial tendencies were at an all time high. People made her uncomfortable, she avoided large groups at all costs. Her window stranger was perfect, she was separated, secure. She would never have to go through the agonizing routine of getting to know him, drudging through meaningless small talk and politeness. Theirs was a simple relationship. She performed, he watched. It was all the sex life she needed.
Due to the success of last night's idea, her mind raced for new ways to thrill herself, and hopefully keep him interested. During her lunch break, she brainstormed new taboos. A few years ago, a friend had given her an enormous vibrator as a gag gift. The thing was awful, it looked like a giant penis, complete in every detail except for the fact that it was an awful shade of lavender. She had never used the thing, never even considered it. Until now. She wondered how her window lover would enjoy the sight of that thing skewering her around it's thick shaft. Just the thought was getting her excited, a little wet in the plastic chair in the lunchroom. She decided to get back to work, eagerly anticipating the evening.
She came home later than usual, and her lover was already at his window, waiting. She lingered through the apartment, teasing. The vibrator was in a closet somewhere, and she left him hanging while she looked. After some searching, she found it in the bedroom closet under a box of old shoes. Unsheathing it from it's packaging, she couldn't resist a smile, it was so ridiculous looking. While in the bedroom, she changed into an old dress, she was in a rough sex kind of mood. She padded barefoot back into the living room, and stood before the window, grasping the dildo behind her back. After a minute or so, she slowly moved a hand to her collar, and with a moan of anticipation, ripped the old dress off in one quick motion. That felt good, instant exposure. She stood completely nude, her surprise still concealed behind her back. She ran a hand down her chest and brandished the thing, in all it's rubber glory, holding it high as if it were the famed Excalibur.
With a seductive smile, she licked her way up it's length, lingering on it's tip. The rubber was pliant, ready. Prodding and rubbing her various erogenous zones with it's moist tip, she sank to her knees. She concentrated it's probes around her crotch, she was nearly ready. She poked her burning groin and pinched her nipples, until she felt she was wet enough to accept the monster. She settled on her back, and spread her legs wide before the window. With a final glance at her reflection, she took a deep breath, and plunged the purple pillar inside. Her cry was half pain, half delirious pleasure, and her eyes watered. After the first initial shock, her body began to adapt, and she began to pump the thing. The feeling was agony, but a good sort. She planted her feet against the window pane, for a better position, and for a better view. Once again lost in the feeling, she didn't come back to consciousness until it was over, and she lay sweating and whimpering on the carpet. She felt like she would be bowlegged for a week, the thing had so stretched her. But the sensation, the act of violating herself so savagely in front of someone else, was worth it. Slowly, and a little painfully, she stood and turned off the lights. The stranger was there, against the window, head down, rubbing at his crotch with his right hand. She smiled, and headed for bed with the satisfaction of a job well done.
Weeks passed, and she continued to come up with new perversions. She had tried self role-playing, self bondage, and any number of fetish demonstrations. Unfortunately, it was getting old again. She needed something big, something to bring back the original excitement and danger. She had noticed her lover's attention seemed to be waning, he was less responsive. She was worried about losing him, she needed to pull out all the stops. The problem was, she was clueless as to what she should do. Her mind was picked clean, ravaged. She chewed idly on a carrot in the lunchroom and tried in vain to come up with something. She hardly ever socialized at work, but everyone around her used this time as a gossip swap. A woman at the next table was talking about a one night stand she had recently undertaken. She couldn't help but overhear. Something about a muscle bound idiot at a bar, rough wild sex, and no next morning misunderstandings. That sounded perfect. The idea she was looking for, a wild one night stand put on for the sole pleasure of her admirer. She decided to head out that very night and pick up a qualified candidate.
She was never really a bar person, she only knew of one in the area. It was a grimy little hole set in what used to be a firehouse. It was called, appropriately enough, "The Firehouse." As she approached the huge wooden front door, the wall of sound nearly held her back. Bowel trembling base thumps pounded at her skull before she was even fifty feet away. Still, she pushed on, resolved to her plan. After paying the five dollar cover, and enduring a thorough pat-down by the sleazy doorman, she was in, and she squinted to take in the possibilities. The place was packed with them, big beefy peacocks like cattle in a pen. All shapes and sizes, colors and races, flexed smiled and wooed their ways into young women's attentions. She marched up to the bar, and ordered a straight shot of vodka. This would take a certain calming of the nerves. It was not long before she was spotted and set upon. A greaseball with pecs like marble slabs ambled up beside her, snorted through his nose, and attempted to strike up a conversation. She felt queasy. This was exactly the kind of thing she hated, what she consistently tried to avoid. Still, she endured. She chatted away with him like an expert, listening to fascinating stories about his car and his accomplishments at the gym. After twenty minutes of this drudgery, she had made up her mind. He was perfect. He wasn't looking for any kind of meaningful relationship. He just wanted to impress his way into her pants. She stopped him in mid-sentence with a pointed stare, and when he was quiet, gave him the simple proposition. Her place. As expected, he agreed quickly, and paid the tab. He agreed to follow her. As she drove home, she went over exactly how it would go down.
With her catch trailing behind her, she unlocked the door, tossed down her things, and stood before the window, arms outstretched. He gave the huge uncovered window a quick glance, then approached her slowly. They embraced with a hard wet kiss, that seemed to her to drag on forever. Still, she knew she had to make this as good a show as possible. She turned and maneuvered him while he sucked on her neck, so that his back was to the window. With one quick pull, she had his shirt over his head and off, and she ran her hands over the rock hard chest. He moaned as she ran her fingernails down his back, slowly, resting them on his waist. They kissed for a while more, he seemed to enjoy it despite his lack of skill.
Without warning, she grabbed his crotch and he stiffened, eyes wide. She gave him a smile, and he relaxed as she undid his jeans. His circumcised penis flopped right out, between the slit in his boxers. He was big. Not huge, but better than average she thought. She stroked it softly, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Kissing her way down his chest, she settled on her knees. He trembled as she kissed the tip, teasing him. Quickly, to avoid gagging, she took it whole, inciting a squeak from his throat. She had no idea what she was doing, she just worked it like she was rinsing out her mouth. He ran his hands roughly through her hair, adding to her agitation.
When the gag reflex finally threatened to overcome her, she stood and kissed him again while taking his hand. She pushed him down to the floor, on his back, and stood over him for a moment. He was frozen, he stared up at her in anticipation. Slowly, she pulled the tight black dress off her shoulder. He smiled, and she continued. She stripped, revealing her lack of undergarments, and his smile grew. She risked a glance at the window, she wondered how he was enjoying it. With a smile, she took a step back, and switched off the light. Her stranger was there, but he seemed distracted. He kept glancing to the side, like he was watching television while standing at the window. With a huff of resentment, she decided to get his attention back. The light from the street was just enough to illuminate their bodies for him to see.
With a new aggression, she stepped forward, and ripped his pants off the rest of the way. He almost seemed frightened, as if he was going to scramble away. She settled on the floor with her knees around his waist, pinning him down. Kissing him hard, she held his hands to the floor while grinding his stiff dick with her dry crotch. He whimpered, and she let him go. He babbled something about a condom. She hadn't even thought about that. She guessed he wasn't quite as dumb as he looked. He quickly retrieved one from his pants, and slid it on expertly. She ran a finger along it. Lubricated. Lucky for her. She just wasn't as excited as she thought she would be. She mounted him again, and guided him inside. After the past few weeks, she was stretched out pretty well, and they had no trouble getting into the motions.
He grunted, she bit her lip. They slapped together almost violently, building to a frantic pace. Mercifully, he exploded rather quickly, grunting and whimpering at the same time. She endured his post orgasm jerking for as long as she could, then pulled off and settled on the floor. Slowly, she looked up at the window. He was gone. For the first time, he wasn't at the window. His lights were still on, he hadn't left. She was lost, utterly confused and drowning in despair. What had she done wrong? Perhaps he was the jealous type, he didn't like to see her with another man. That was the only thing she could come up with. She sat bewildered, not even noticing her present company until he addressed her. She snapped back to attention, and glared at him with contempt. He was launching into his "gotta go" routine, but she beat him to it. She hurried him along with the excuse of work tomorrow, helped him gather his clothes, and sent him on his way.
He left with a blank expression plastered over his tan face, he probably wasn't used to it ending like that. When he was gone and the apartment was still again, she pulled on a robe and slumped into her easy chair dejectedly. She didn't look at the window, didn't check to see if he was back. She felt that she had failed, she didn't have the energy anymore. She sat in a deep funk, mulling over the events of the past few weeks, when a knock at the door snapped her from her daze. She stomped towards the door, he had probably forgotten something, or wanted her number. Forcing her anger down, she opened the door. It wasn't him at all. It was a woman. A thin blond woman, with short cropped hair, jeans and a tee shirt, staring back at her with wide, warm eyes. The moment stretched, the silence was uncomfortable. The woman decided to break it. "Hi, I'm Jenny from the window across the street. Could I come in?"
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