Beating the Heat

This time, he didn't bother with the binoculars. Instead, he got the chair, parted the windows and just gazed lustfully at her while he sipped his beer. Again, she was at the little table with the soft light turned on (just like he was, he realized) and writing something while listening to her iPod. As he watched, she stood and moved to her lounger, where she reclined and sipped a drink that had been on the patio beside her. She looked up at his window and waved.

He didn't know what to do. Was she guessing he was there? Did she know he was? How could she know? Did she hope he was watching? She wasn't doing anything erotic... Did she expect him to do... what? He was at a loss. He peeked out again and she was still lying there, looking up at his window. He pulled back into his room again. What to do? What to do?

He decided to go ahead and risk letting her know he was watching her; she didn't seem to mind. Maybe if he let her know he was watching, she'd do something awesome again. He went and turned on the bedroom light, then walked back and opened the curtains part-way. He got up on the chair, knowing he'd be silhouetted and she'd see him there, and maybe see he was naked, but at this point, he didn't know what else to do. He just couldn't do nothing.

She was still there and looking up at his window. She waved. The light was dim, but he thought he saw her smile, though that might have been wishful thinking. With the light on the table beside her, she was side-lit, which nicely showed her curves. The lime green of her bikini kind of glowed in the light, too, which was hot. As he watched her, she bent to the table beside her and picked up her writing pad. Looking up at his window, she then held up the pad, barely lit by the table light.

He couldn't see what was written, so he got down from the chair, grabbed the binoculars and got back. She was still holding up the writing pad and he focused in on it with the binoculars. In blocky letters written with a large marking pen was the word "balcony". He lowered the binoculars. Balcony? What about the balcony? He looked back at her. He should step out on the balcony? He was hesitating, not sure what to do, and looked back at her. She raised an arm and pointed to his balcony.

There you go, then, he thought, she wants me out on my balcony. He pondered that for a few moments and wondered if he should put on some clothes. He got off the chair, grabbed his beer and walked through the apartment to the balcony door. Buck naked and already hard, he took a breath and stepped out into the dark of his balcony.

When he looked down to her patio, he saw her, still on the lounger, but now with the binoculars held up to her eyes. He sipped his beer and looked down at her. She didn't lower the binoculars but kept them trained on him, checking him out. He chugged his beer down, then made a show of shrugging. He wasn't sure what to do. But she didn't lower the binoculars, just moved them up and down, looking him over.

What the hell, he thought. He was out here now, she was looking at him and nobody else could from their balconies... He looked down at her and began stroking as he stood there. He eased his foreskin back, then spit on the head and slowly worked it around. Looking back at her, he took his cock in hand and began rhythmically getting himself off. He looked hard at her, almost willing himself to see through her binoculars, but to no avail. As he stroked himself, though, she removed one hand from the binoculars and slid it into her bikini bottom. Knowing she was touching herself as he stroked, was a real turnon and he almost went too fast.

Since she hadn't left her patio, she obviously didn't mind what she was seeing, he thought as he stroked himself. And by slipping her hand into her bikini bottom, it appeared she was maybe as turned on as he was. Suddenly more relaxed, he leaned back against the wall and luxuriously gave himself long, slow strokes. He wasn't even watching her now, just enjoying masturbating in the cooler evening air in front of her.

After several minutes, he knew he was about to cum. He looked down in her direction and saw her still looking at him through the binoculars, both hands on them again. What the hell, he thought, and sped up. Again looking into her lenses, he stroked quickly and, straining to hold it at the end, suddenly erupted. His first spurts squirted right through the balcony railing and went over the edge. As he stroked and the flow slowed, it pumped onto the balcony then just dribbled over his own fingers.

Panting a bit, he looked down at her. She lowered the binoculars, got up and went inside. At first disappointed, he then hoped she was just going inside to finish herself off. As he softened in the cool night air and she didn't return, he also went inside to the bathroom, cleaned up and went to bed, where he again slept badly due to the A/C.

Through August, it was the strangest relationship he'd ever had, if it could be called that. On any given night, if she was around and out on her patio, they would take turns masturbating in front of the other. He'd stroke for her and send his cum shooting over the balcony railing. When it was her turn, she'd either be on the lounger or against the wall. Sometimes she'd be completely naked, at other times, only bottomless so she could easily get at her pussy with her fingers. One night, she used a toy, which he'd thought was cool as he watched through his binoculars while sitting on his balcony and sipping a beer while she played with herself. It was strange and it was cool. It was something he really looked forward to and hoped she did as well. So many times he thought he should walk over to his door, knock, introduce himself and speak with her -- but then, he also didn't want to ruin what was turning out to be a terrific summer.

Then came the September long weekend. He'd been anticipating her being around because it was her turn to get off in their on again, off again, night-time ritual. Last time, he'd stood pressed against his balcony railing and reached over the top to stroke himself until he came. All the cum went onto the ground below and he hoped nobody walking past would notice it in the morning.

So it was on the holiday Monday that he spent most of his day out on his balcony, hoping like hell she'd show up at her place and turn him on as she turned herself on. He'd gone through a dozen beer, some pizza, some icecream, coffee and port while hoping she'd show up. She didn't and he had to admit to himself he was supremely disappointed.

Darkness fell early, though, as the days were shortening. He kept looking out, but it appeared she was away for the weekend. He'd gone to bed, a little drunk and more than a little depressed, that she hadn't shown. But, he thought, what could you do? It's not like they had a schedule or anything. Hell, he didn't even know her name. But he was familiar with the sight of her body, her smile, her little waves, the occasional writing pad note, the way she masturbated and made herself cum while he watched from a short distance away.

Again, it was weird, but so cool.

In the middle of the night, he woke up bathed in sweat because the A/C unit had quit again in the middle of the night. It had been happening regularly and every time he spent another sleepless night, he would think again that he should move the hell out. But then he'd think of her and knew he wasn't going anywhere.

This time, he awoke, bathed in sweat again. A little light-headed from the booze during the day, he almost didn't bother looking out the window for her; but he did. He had to. Rolling out of bed, he moved to the window and looked out into the dark. She was there, in the black and white bikini again, on the lounger. He smiled and made his way from the bedroom to the balcony, pulled up his chair and took cock in hand as he prepared to watch her get herself off.

The table light threw a soft glow over her body and as he watched from his dark perch, she fondled her breasts as she looked up at him. This time, he could see she was smiling at him as she lifted her ass and eased the bikini bottom down her legs before tossing it onto the nearby chair. As he stroked himself slowly, she put a leg down on either side of the lounger, spreading herself wide. Her palm flat on the lower part of her belly, he could see her reaching with a finger to part her lips.

He wanted to see better, so he got up, walked back into his bedroom, collected the binoculars, then walked back out. Sitting down, he adjusted the focus to see her finger moving in and out of her pussy. Oh yeah, he thought, as he reached between his legs for his cock. Holding the binoculars with one hand made for some shakey viewing but he liked to be stroking as she played with herself. He moved his chair closer to the edge of the balcony to get a better view. He changed his view from the smile on her face to her pussy. Back and forth, skipping over the still clothed breasts.

Suddenly, though, she stopped fingering herself. He let go of his cock to hold the binoculars as she sat up and reached for the writing pad on the table. He watched her scribble something down, then hold it up for him to view. As he adjusted the focus, his jaw dropped and he almost dropped the binoculars. Standing, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, scribbled in the marking pen he was familiar with, was written "let's fuck". He almost called out, "really?" but didn't dare. It would have gone against everything they'd been doing to that point.

He had to sit for a second and think. Het set his binoculars on the table beside him. He'd been dreaming of fucking her for more than a month. He'd been cumming while thinking of fucking her for more than a month. For more than a month, he'd stroked and cum for her and she'd played with herself and cum (he had been assuming) for him. And now...

He sat and looked across at her. She had leaned back again, legs spread on either side of the lounger, her pussy so inviting. In the past, he'd never turned down a good fuck, or a bad one for that matter and, despite the fact he'd been dreaming of it, at this point he wasn't sure. He looked back down at her and she was holding her arms out, beckoning to him. He stood and leaned out over the railing and gestured... here? There? She again beckoned with her arms. She wanted him there.

He thought about it for a few more seconds, then went inside, back to his bedroom. He pulled on some shorts, zipped up carefully around his firm cock, shoved his keys in his pocket and headed out into the hallway for the stairs. Hurrying down the stairs, he let himself out of the building, then took the sidewalk through the courtyard. As he walked up to her patio, she stood, put a finger on her lips in the universal signal for 'don't talk' and then eased her bum onto the little table.

He looked around to see if anybody was watching, but nobody was awake and about at 2 a.m. As he turned to her, she reached behind and unclasped her top, letting it fall away so the dim light glowed on her skin. She put her hands back behind to grab the edge of the table and spread her legs wide for him.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He undid his shorts, let them drop to his ankles and kicked them away. Moving between her legs, she looked up at him and smiled as she lifted them to put them around him. Looking down, he placed a hand on each thigh and pressed the head of his cock against her. She gasped as he touched her, then used her legs to ease him into her. Feeling her ankles lock behind him, he looked down as he slid inside her.

She was so wet he moved easily into her warmth. As he pressed deeply into her, she lay back on her elbows and smiled up at him. He began fucking her slowly and reached to take a breast in each hand. She used her feet to pull him toward her and they built a nice rhythm as he fondled her breasts. Her nipples pressed against his palms and he could see goosebumps all over her body as they fucked.

Her eyes closed as he slowly fucked her, and she moaned a little as he moved in and out of her. Between his rhythm and her pulling him into her, the little table moved with their fucking and he watched her face as they fucked. A breeze began to blow and he could feel the sweat cooling on his skin. He shivered. Standing there fucking her, he looked over his shoulder once in a while, to ensure nobody was going past or watching, but nobody was. It was just the two of them, fucking, kind of like strangers, kind of like regular lovers. Like before, kinda weird.

He could feel himself ready to cum and she seemed ready. She was bucking as he fucked her pulling him hard into her with her legs and he sped up. In and out. In and out. The little table was creaking and he could feel cum building. He moved his hands to her thighs and moved deeply into her. In and out. The rhythm was terrific, even with the table moving.

Finally, she moaned deep in her throat and hung onto the table hard and really bucked against him as she came. That sparked his cum and he emptied into her as they kept their rhythm going. She was breathing hard, breasts rising and falling and he was sweating along his hairline and panting a bit himself. He slowed, then stopped, not wanting to pull out of her. She kept her legs clamped around him, holding him inside.

They looked at each other and smiled. "I..." Her finger against her lips stopped him from saying anything. She unwrapped her legs from around him and sat up higher on the table as he slid out of her. She put her hands on his chest, caressed him a little, then reached up and touched his lips with a finger. He stepped back and she eased off the table. Standing in front of him, she again touched her fingers to his lips. Then she stepped back, made a motion to blow him a kiss, then quickly stepped into her apartment, leaving him with a glimpse of a beautifully formed behind.

He stood there for a few moments, feeling rather stupid and awkward, then pulled on his shorts and walked back to his building. He made his way up to his place, let himself in, walked to his bedroom window and looked down at her patio. No sign of her. He sat on the edge of his bed and, if it wasn't for their cum on his cock, might have believed the whole thing never happened.

A couple more weeks passed without him seeing her. Then, on a Saturday, he was on his balcony having a beer when a guy stepped out of her door to pick up the little table and carry it inside. He returned a couple of minutes later and folded up the lounge chair. The man was about to carry it inside when he shouted down, "hey, somebody moving out down there?"

"Yup," called up the mover. "This is the last couple of things, then we're on the road." Then he turned and went inside.

Sitting there, he felt suddenly numb. She was gone? Moved? Left, just like that? Then he thought, just like what? Like some beautiful woman he had shared something odd with. A woman who came into his life unknown, shared one intimate encounter and many distance encounters, before leaving. Looking down at her little patio, he knew he'd never forget her. They'd never spoken a word, but it was the most amazing and bizarre summer of his life.