tagExhibitionist & VoyeurEye of the Beholder Ch. 05

Eye of the Beholder Ch. 05


It rained all day the next day. By evening it was torrential, enough to cause minor flooding along the river, so I watched a movie I'd been trying to see for weeks, but I couldn't help feeling empty.

It finally stopped raining at about 5:00 the next afternoon. It was soggy everywhere, but the sun peeped out just in time to set, and shortly thereafter I slipped down my favorite alley, anticipating sensual delights.

There was a note on the outside of the window, in an envelope, taped over with clear sealing tape to protect it from the rain. There was no name on the envelope, nothing, in fact, but a lipstick kiss. I peeled the envelope off by the tape and opened it. Inside was a piece of notepaper which smelled heavily of Sharon's own sweet musk. The source of the 'perfume' turned out to be the eye end of a peacock feather folded into the note. (She just floored me: she was so hopelessly erotic.) I opened the note:

I missed you last night, but I went ahead without you.
(C'est la vie.)
Here's a memento, since you missed it.

I'll be out of town till Monday.
See me then.

By the way,
I REALLY loved that the other night!
I can't tell you how much.

I couldn't have agreed with her more. Monday was four days away, and that was just TOO long. Oh well, as the ravishing woman said: c'est la vie.

- O -

Hard as it was to believe (and I do mean HARD), Monday finally came. (I intended to do the same later that evening.) I had dropped by Saturday night and left a note for Sharon the same way she'd left hers for me, though the lipstick kiss I left for her was made by those MUCH smaller lips at the tip of my penis. (I wasn't sure she'd catch it--the imprint was pretty small--but I doubted much, if anything, of an erotic nature would slip by her unnoticed). For the record, the note said:

YOU loved it? I've never cum like that in my life.

So now what, Lover?
I'd like to get to know you better,
but not if it ruins this.


By the way,
Thanks for the 'memento'.
It kept me going (and cumming).

Now, as I made my way down the alley, a bit faster than usual, I couldn't get it all off of my mind. At least my first worry seemed to have proven groundless. When I'd first noticed that she knew I was there, I had worried that it would ruin it, since my new-found voyeuristic pleasure seemed to be enhanced by the secretive nature of the situation. Well, forget that. Knowing I was there, she teased me to fever pitch, getting me so hot that a single touch from a feather finished me more completely than anyone ever had before, whatever they were using to do it.

I was actually a little surprised by the strength of the experience. I had never thought of myself as being very kinky, and now, here I was, getting ready to crouch outside of a window and watch a shameless exhibitionist drive me to total distraction, both of us loving every minute of it. I could only guess what she'd have in store for me tonight.

Unfortunately, the house was dark when I got there. Drat. She must have been held up. I was thinking of leaving when the thought struck me that she had never said WHEN on Monday she would be back, so instead, I just sat down on the back porch, kicked back, and enjoyed the evening.

A little after nine I heard a car pull up out front. The door opened, then I heard the trunk open and shut. A woman's voice was talking to someone. Was that her? (I'd never heard her talk before, so I had no idea what she sounded like. She never even seemed to get phone calls.) Who was she talking to? I hadn't seen the car, so I guessed it could be a cab, but then the car motor shut off and moments later the front door of her house opened, the voice moved inside and the door shut. I looked through the window of the kitchen door and saw long blonde hair above a set of very shapely curves. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face, but what I saw looked great.

Just then, the blinds went up in the bedroom, while the voice continued in the other room. So it wasn't her talking after all. A few seconds went by after the blinds went up, during which time I could imagine Sharon, seeing a note on the window in the same place she had left hers, thinking, reacting. I heard the window open, and the unmistakeable sound of the tape being pulled loose, then the paper of the envelope ripping open, and another long pause as she read the note.

Meanwhile, the other woman just went on and on, apparently filling Sharon in on EVERYTHING that had happened while she was gone, not knowing that what she was saying was, for the moment, the last thing on Sharon's mind. Didn't she ever shut up and let Sharon get a word in edgewise?

Suddenly, in mid-sentence, she stopped and said, "For me? Oh Sharon, you shouldn't have. This is just TOO wicked. Can I try it on? I'll use the mirror in the bedroom." Then footsteps.

I still hadn't heard Sharon say a word, but this sounded promising. I slipped over to the window in time to see the blonde enter the room. She was everything she seemed from the back, and more. Not only was she beautiful, but she also had 'world-class melons', as a school chum of mine always used to say. She slipped the light sweater she was wearing over her head, then let her short skirt slip to the floor around her feet.

My, my, was she a lovely. Long lines, rich tan, golden hair flowing over it. The 'wicked' something was a nearly sheer, white lace negligee, so to try it on, she had to take off her bra. She ended up taking off her panties as well. What a treat: firm, round breasts, large but not too large, almost too perfectly-shaped to be natural; silky blonde cunt hair; no tan lines anywhere. I was, again, more thrilled than I would have expected. I was rubbing my erection through my pants, thinking that this was a great warmup act, but I hadn't come to see her, so I didn't get into it as much as I would have at another time.

Sharon had come into the room, watching appreciatively as the blonde put on the camisol. I saw her sneaking a look at the window, quickly at first, then longer as she strained to see through the reflections on the glass, trying to tell if I was out here. I had blended back into the shadows. I didn't want her to know. I figured she had spent at least a couple of days, knowing I was there, teasing me mercilessly, so turnabout was fair play.

Still, I did recognize that she had set this up for me. Knowing my tendencies, she had lined up a gorgeous woman and an excuse for her to get first naked, then erotic. She had even made sure before she left that the mirror was set up so I would have the best view in the house, or out of the house in this case. It warmed me deep inside: it was so thoughtful, and I was enjoying it immensely, in the same way one enjoys a well-prepared appetizer.

Meanwhile, throughout it all, the blonde never stopped talking. She went on and on about how beautiful it was, and how well it fit (I had to admit, she was right about that!), then stopped in mid sentence and said, "Oh my God, look at the time! David will be furious if I keep him waiting. I'd better run." She was putting her skirt and sweater on over the camisol, so I guessed that David wouldn't stay furious for long. Sharon, on the other hand, was still straining to see through the window, looking a bit exasperated.

Finally, the blonde left, talking all the way out the door. It was an amazing performance. I never heard Sharon get a single word in. Not one. When she closed the door, she settled back against the wall for a second in a way that said, "Whew, blessed silence. At last." Then she came back into the bedroom, crossed to open the window the rest of the way, and peered out into the darkness.

- O -

I had slipped behind the lilac bushes so Sharon wouldn't see me, but then I thought better of it. She deserved to see that her 'present' had been received and appreciated. I gave her a second to wonder, then walked out from behind the bushes. A truly radiant smile broke across her face. I just wanted to hug her, to tell her I understood what she had done for me, but mostly how good it was to see her. I took a step forward, started to say something, but she frowned slightly and shook her head, then smiled again so I'd know she wasn't upset, just reaffirming the rules.

I decided to lighten it up. Pointing out the bedroom door, I drew my hand across my forehead in a "Whew" gesture, then made a talking hand motion. Her smile broadened and she rolled her eyes up as if to say "Yeah, isn't she?" Then she motioned me to wait here and left the room. I did as I was 'told'.

When she returned, it was with two negligees on hangers. She held them up for me to choose. One was the black one she had worn the other night, which had all kinds of wonderful memories for me. The other was white, nearly identical to the one she'd given the blonde. Memorable as the other night was, I couldn't wait to see her in the white one. I made a great show of trying to choose, then finally pointed to the white one...no, the black one... oh, alright, the white one, I guess. I suspected she wanted to show off the white one for me, secure enough in her own beauty to actually invite comparisons with the blonde. I had no doubt that she'd come out on top. (Well, truth be told, on top of me is what I hoped.)

She set both hangers down on the chair then turned to me at the window. She was still dressed in her business suit, which pretty much defined the bottom of the range of acceptability for business. It hugged her curves, accentuating her body rather than hiding it as such suits often seem designed to do, and the blouse underneath the open jacket was just a bit too loose, the first button a bit too low to say "I'm all business."

She shrugged off the jacket, the silk blouse underneath leaving no doubt that there wasn't bra under it. Her nipples showed plainly through the fabric, pointed hard with arousal. Her fingers began undoing the buttons, slowly, teasingly, her eyes never leaving mine. As she came to the bottom, she reached around to undo her skirt, the raw silk making a soft rustle as it slipped down over her stockings.

Either she never wore pantyhose, or she had purposely worn the garter belt for me. Given her erotic nature, either was a distinct possibility. Now she stood looking at me, a flirt of a smile on her lips, white silk blouse hanging open, barely hiding her nipples but revealing the white lace panties under the garter belt, the auburn curls above her shaved cuntlips showing clearly through the lace. She slipped a finger down inside the panties, drawing it up across her clit, closing her eyes as she did, then opening them to look into my eyes as she brought the finger to her lips and sucked it off. I drew a long deep breath, and unconsciously licked my lips, only realizing it when Sharon smiled.

She let the blouse slip to the floor, again with that sensual rustle of clothes falling. I loved her breasts, particularly with the nipples standing out as they were. She cupped them lovingly, sneaking a glance in the mirror as she did. Then she turned, picked up the negligee, and put it on. When I saw how good it looked with the white garter belt and panties, I realized that she had guessed all along I would choose the white one.

Sharon stood admiring herself in the mirror, turning first to one side, then the other, then trying as best she could to get a good view from the back (what a wonderful pose that was). Then she turned back to face the mirror, taking a long, approving look. She cupped her breasts, caressing, the tips of her thumbs rubbing over her nipples as she closed her eyes, giving herself to the feeling. I saw the subtle movement as a chill ran down her spine. Her right hand traced fingertips down across her stomach, across her mons, rubbing through the lace of the panties, one gentle fingertip gliding, barely touching, across her clit. Having rubbed the lace into a groove over her clit, she now drew a fingernail lightly up and down it, her lips parting slightly as she did.

She seemed to have forgotten all about me, but I was sure she was completely aware of me, and that the knowledge was heightening her pleasure. I knew one thing: she was heightening MY pleasure. She had slipped a couple of fingers inside the panties, and now rubbed them slowly up her slit, moistening her clit, making gentle circles over it. She dipped slightly as her knees gave out momentarily. She glanced at me to see if I had noticed, just like a cat when it thinks it's been caught losing its cool. I winked at her and nodded to the chair.

She went to get the chair, an overstuffed armchair with high, padded arms, pushing it over to face the window and settling into it with one leg over each arm. The shaved lips of her pussy were clearly visible under the sheer lace of the panties; it enhanced rather than obscuring them. As she stroked herself through the panties, the thin layer of fabric dampened, becoming even more transparent.

The waistband of the panties plunged almost to the curls above her lips, and it was no time until her fingers traced up to the top and slipped inside. They made a quick pass down her clit, then dipped between her labia; up to her clit, down and in again, making a soft, wet noise as her cunt sucked at her fingers. Sharon had been watching herself in the mirror through half-lidded eyes, but as I got into my own masturbation, she began watching me more. I had decided that it wasn't so much that it turned her on seeing me masturbate; it was more likely that she was turned on by seeing how much she excited me. I was like another mirror, one that showed a side of her that she couldn't see without me.

Her gaze shifted back and forth, first to the mirror, then me. My eyes were fixed on her pussy, my excitement mounting. She had stopped watching me stroke myself, and now watched my eyes, which must have been glazed with arousal. Her own breathing had picked up, but she guessed from my motions that I was getting close to cumming. She slowly drew her fingers out of the panties, then rose from the chair and crossed to take two boxes from a small table by the mirror, adjusting the mirror while she was at it. As she returned, she slipped off her panties, and I, taking my cue from her, stepped out of my pants, knowing the lilacs would shield me from view.

The boxes were gift-wrapped, one a little larger than the other, with a wire connecting them. I'm sure I looked puzzled, but she just smiled a teasing smile, placed one of the boxes on the window sill, then sank back into the chair, first scooting it all the way up against the wall under the window so the wire would reach. I reached out for the box, but she raised her hand, tilting her head a little, as if to say, "No, wait." She began to open hers, taking her time about it.

It looked like there were several things in the box, though I couldn't see what. The one she brought out was connected to the wire. It was a small white cylinder, which, trailing its white wire, looked like nothing so much as a slightly pointed tampon, except that it was perhaps half again as large. She turned the end by the wire about a quarter turn and held it up for me to see, and hear. Whirrrrrrr... She leaned back, her eyes turning to the mirror, her hand, with the vibrator, moving between her legs.

She had settled into the chair with her knees much farther forward, almost to the wall. She was excruciatingly close to me: I could see her, hear her breathing, smell her, almost taste her, but I couldn't touch her. Her pussy was spread wide, the vibrator making lazy circles around her clit as her breathing began to quicken. The circles picked up her breathing's pace, driving the breathing a little faster. She turned her head back to me, watching me as I watched fascinated while she slipped the vibrator between her labia and slowly pushed it in with a finger. She sighed, closed her eyes, her fingers returning to her clit, gliding back and forth over it for a moment, just enjoying the feeling. Then she slowly opened her eyes, and with a sly smile, motioned me to open my box.

This was wonderful! It looked like a walkman, but the radio tuner dial didn't have stations, it went from slow to fast. Sharon was watching me intently to see my reaction, her fingers in a kind of holding pattern of quick, tiny movements. I took it from the box, slowly turning up the speed a notch, my eyes raising to meet hers. There were many emotions reflected in them: cool appraisal, and lust, and happiness, and just a touch of...what? Something I couldn't quite place. Oh, and sex. Her eyes were totally erotic. She was close, hanging on the edge. She had taken herself right to it, then given me the means to push her over. I bumped the speed up a bit, smiling as I did. She arched her back just a little at the increased vibration, her eyes closing most of the way. Her fingers had slowed, sustaining but not pushing toward orgasm. I pushed it up just a tiny bit more, seeing her squirm slightly as the vibrator whirred inside her. She started to arch up toward her fingers, beginning to pant. I rolled back the speed, her eyes coming open just enough to register a mix of protest and appreciation.

I held off for a moment, then began to ease the speed up again, taking it to just below the spot I had stopped the last time. Her fingers were back at it again: dipping, emerging wet, slipping up to flick back and forth over her clit. I pushed the speed again, watching her writhe in response. She was near again, and so was I. It was ever so tempting to push us both over at once, but I didn't want it to end. I slacked up, both on her and on me. She gave me a mock protest, then spread her legs a little farther, her fingers dipping out some of her juices and starting to massage them around her anus. She reached over into the box, now on the floor by her, and pulled out the vibrator I'd seen her use the other night.

As one hand continued to play with her clit, the other began to tease her ass with the vibrator. She was moaning now, and I was getting hotter by the minute watching. Then she slowly pulled out the vibrator, turned it in her hand, and held it out to me, a momentary look of uncertainty in her eyes before she closed them, then, one by one, lifted her legs up and placed them over the window sill, bringing her ass and pussy right up to it. I turned up the speed a notch on the other vibrator, then gently circled the one she'd just given me around and around the rim of her asshole. She drew a deep, shuddering breath, lifting up just enough to give me better access. Her fingers had slowed again as the orgasm began to creep up on her. I slowly began to push the vibrator in deeper. As it went in, she arched up, her hands moving up to tweak her nipples, her body writhing as her breath came in short gasps.

I cranked the speed all the way up as I slowly but steadliy pushed the other vibrator home up her ass. She arched way up, a deep moan marking the beginning of her orgasm. 'OK, here goes," I thought. As she arched up toward me, I took a deep breath, still unsure of my plan, then planted my tongue squarely over her slit, and lapped it in one good, firm lick up over her clit, savoring the taste, the smell, before falling headlong into my climax.

Sharon screamed, thrashed, bucked, her orgasm exploding over her, the unexpected feel of my tongue shocking her, but pushing her beyond protest. She came in waves, moaning and writhing as each one passed, a fine mist of sweat glistening on her skin. I didn't dare another lick, figuring that I'd better find out the fallout from this one first. It was all I could do to remain standing from the strength of my own orgasm. Besides, it had served its purpose. Now, I could sustain her orgasm(s) with only the smallest movement of the anal vibrator...a full stroke sent her headlong into another wave.

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