Framed in a Window

The first time I saw my neighbor's tits was purely by accident. She was changing her clothes in her room and had whipped off her top. I was making up the bed in my spare bedroom. I had caught her movement out of the corner of my eye. It was a momentary glimpse of bare tits. Then, she saw me. We both startled. For a brief moment, we looked at each other awkwardly. I quickly smiled and gave her a thumbs up. That seemed to help. She actually smiled back, covered herself with a folded arm and closed the curtains.

Our houses are so close together that I can hear her music. I've never met her. They moved into the house a couple of months ago. I met her husband once, briefly, when a garden watering line broke and was flooding my yard. He was nice. I think he was her husband anyways. We didn't chat much.

She is a beautiful dark haired, middle eastern looking woman.

After that day, I found myself going back into the spare bedroom more than usual to see if I might get another glimpse of her. She was gorgeous. Those tits were perfect. Really, I just wanted to see her again.

I looked to see if she did anything to change the window treatment or did anything differently. I moved some plants to the window in order to give myself an excuse to be at the window regularly.

Interestingly, about two weeks later there was a potted plant placed on her open windowsill. I had not seen her, but I took this as a positive development. I was thrilled!

Past the curtains, I could see just the back of her head working at her computer most days. She must work from home. I think the room is her office and not a bedroom. I once saw her husband working on a laptop in another window off the front of the house. Her window is about two feet higher than the window in my spare bedroom and separated by about 10 feet between our two houses. Neither of our windows is visible from the street, nor from below, nor from any other window in either home. The arrangement provides a discreet line of communication between the two windows.

Then, one afternoon, I was watering my begonias when I saw her step up to water her plant, wearing a button-down silk blouse fully unbuttoned and untucked and yellow yoga pants. I could just make out the edges of her partially exposed breasts. She acted like she didn't see me as she went about the watering with a large kitchen glass. She went back in to fill it up and still she didn't look in my direction.

Surely, she knew I was there. I can't imagine that she would ever step up to that window again and not think of the accidental show that she had given me before. To step up again now fully unbuttoned and exposing her bare cleavage to the waist was another positive development. This flirt show was on bigtime! I was over the moon!

I would that say she is about 36, slender, beautiful olive skin and luxurious long, thick, dark, shiny, hair that plays down over her shoulders. Her breasts proportional to her frame. Her nipples pointed slightly upwards, dark little cones instead of prominent nipples. She was lithe and smooth, her movements slow and deliberate.

I switched to reveal more skin too. I wore no T-shirt, going bare chested and also removed my underwear and wore just my sweatpants shorts while watering. The problem was that my timing was off from her watering schedule, and I had not seen her in two or three weeks. Then, one day, walking the hall, past the spare bedroom, I caught sight of her.

I raced to change into my old sweatpants shorts, like a kid racing to change into a swimsuit to get to a swimming pool of cousins. I took off my shirt and proceeded to the window. This time, it was I who acted as if I did not see her. I did everything I could to not look up. Finally, when I was almost done, I glanced up to find her looking directly down at my cock. She was in the same unbuttoned blouse and this time she was wearing only panties. A pair of small white sexy panties. Then our eyes locked. After what must have been only a second, she stepped backwards into her room; but she did not move to close the curtain. If she was watching from the dark recesses of her room, I could not tell. If she was watching, she could clearly see my cock punching at the front of my sweatpants. I stripped down and continued with the plants for a couple of minutes, watering naked, possibly for no one, and I then moved on.

After that, I repotted one of the begonias to a bigger pot. I chose a pot that I found at the hardware store with a heart shape painted on it. I then used a magic marker to make a pierced heart, like a Valentine's heart. It was just two weeks before Valentine's Day. It seemed appropriate. I set the pot on the sill and hoped she got the message. In Italy, Valentine's Day is known as La Festa Degli Innamorati. If she is foreign, the message would be lost.

About a week later I saw her again. This time she was completely topless, wearing just panties. She looked like art framed in a window. Gorgeous, beautiful woman standing there. Delicious looking tits.

Again, she ignored my presence just feet away. Although I could not see much, I could see a dark-haired pussy was in those white panties. This time she lingered a full minute at least, presenting herself to me. She leaned forward in my direction with her tits. Her nipples were dark and different than I was accustomed to. She picked at some leaves and adjusted her pots. I was so enthralled I grabbed my cock through my shorts. And then she was gone.

It was then that I noticed she had drawn a heart on her pot too. That in itself turned me on so much, that I had to jerk off after this encounter.

I didn't see her for a while after that. I looked for her on Valentine's Day, but nothing. I was pretty busy with things myself those weeks, but I kept an eye out. I noted that she had turned her pot again, so that the heart was no longer showing. Maybe our thing had come to an end.

Then, one day an election volunteer came to my house and told me about a community gathering on a neighbors terrace to promote a city council member for reelection who lived in the neighborhood. I ended up going to the evening gathering not far from my home. There was a printed agenda provided on arrival - in Italian. It involved some social time before and after a community outreach talk by the speaker regarding current election issues. By chance, I my window muse there too! And, it appeared that she had come alone. My heart leapt!

There were only about 30 or so people present, so everyone met everyone eventually. I stepped forward and introduced myself to her in Italian, but then switched to English.

"I'm James." I said in English, smiling. I didn't offer to shake hands. It did not seem appropriate, instead bowing my head in her direction. I waited for her response. When it registered who I was, she flushed, briefly. That was the only indication that she had recognized me.

"Hello James, I'm Petra. Nice to meet you." She returned, in perfect English, cute voice and accent.

"Hi Petra, nice to meet you too." I played it as though I had never seen her before.

I raised my glass a bit as to make a statement. "Please forgive me if I don't remember your name later. I have a terrible memory for names, numbers, and directions. But I do remember faces." I smiled broadly and looked her briefly in the eye to register if she was getting my message.

She did, clearly. She laughed a little. She had a beautiful smile. I could see her relax. I saw her chest subside as she exhaled freely.

Over the next minutes of the social time, she sipped at her glass of wine with me and smiled genuinely and did not move to exit the conversation. In fact, she went on to ask me about how long I had lived in the Italy, if I supported the candidate, if I knew anything about the election issues on the ballot. I kept the conversation on point. I didn't probe into her life with even one question. To any other observer, it was polite chat between two newly introduced neighbors.

"I've been here about nine months. I spend part time here and part time back home in New Jersey," I explained. "I'm interested in the local issues, but I can't vote here." I didn't mention to her that I had come to the event just to get to meet some new people. She didn't offer why she had come to the event either.

We were subtly flirting. I felt it.

In as much as this situation enabled this exchange, we were taking it in. Slowly gaining confidence, I gathered in the sight of her lips, her smile, her eyes, the full line of her jaw. She was about 5'2", a petite, almost no makeup, except her eyes. She wore lipstick. Her dress was professional and stylish. She had an accent. I didn't ask. She was definitely middle eastern though.

I sensed her eyes were subtly raking me over as well.

When the event started, we casually parted. Everyone gathered around and sat down with fresh glasses of wine and paper plates of finger food on couches and chairs in the garden. She sat down on the end of a sectional couch with some other ladies in a position directly across where I had found a seat.

I sat back and at this point and tried to focus my attention on the speaker. In reality, Petra was the only thing on my mind. I observed she was trying to focus too. She didn't eat, she didn't ask any questions. She fidgeted with her wine glass. She dropped a shoe off of one foot, exposing a stockinged lovely foot. She dangled it there playfully while she listened. I watched from my peripheral vision.

The event went on a bit longer than scheduled with questions- questions about matters not important to me and all in local Italian dialect. I wasn't following. I moved to the kitchen to put my wine glass on the host's counter and to slip out before the wrap up speech and goodbyes.

As I was leaving the kitchen, I ran into Petra coming in to put away her glass away too, as I had. In the doorway, I said as politely as possible, "It was nice to meet you Petra." I smiled and gave her the same thumb's up sign.. She responded by instantly extending her hand for a handshake, which I took. She had a small, soft hand. I held it briefly.

"It was nice to meet you too James." She smiled, looking me right in the eye. "Keep an eye out for that heart of yours," she said. Her face flushed again, for maybe a microsecond. And then, she turned her attention to someone else in the talking crowd to say good-bye. She switched to Italian.

I practically ran home with joy. I don't even remember walking home.

A few days later I saw another woman in her room while I was watering. It was a younger, dark-haired woman, maybe a house guest or something. I had never seen her before. I didn't present myself at the window much. I quickly took care of the plants and retreated. My mind questioned everything. It was all a pleasant, private high. I told nobody. But Petra now had become the object of my now more regular masturbation sessions. That beautiful, dark patch in those panties was my visual image. In my mind's eye I blew huge loads all over those upward turned tits and stunning face. Even my girlfriend at the time had noted that I had been cumming in ropes lately.

Then, one day I saw she had turned the pot around again. There was a number "2" drawn neatly in the middle of the heart. What did it mean? Surely it meant something. Did she mean me to be there at 2pm? Or, did it mean the second of the month, or week? It was late May, but June 2^nd was a full 10 days away. I explored the 2 pm possibility the next day, but she was not there. I tried again the following day and after that. No Petra and no change in the pot. I kept trying whenever I was home alone and thought about it.

Finally, one day about two weeks later, about a month after the community event, I was watering my plants at 2pm sharp and Petra stepped forward from the darkness of the her room and moved into the window to water her plants.

She had on a sexy black bra. It was the bustier type that is designed to present the tits. To present the nipples rather than cover them. Petra had put on a sexy as fuck bustier - for me!

She had on thigh high stockings and no panties. She had also pulled her hair back and made it up on top of her head. It was a new look I hadn't seen.

I had a clear view of her pussy. I had been craving it so much for weeks. A dark, trim patch dove between her legs. It was trimmed short enough that her cunt peaked through.

With no pretense to watering the plants, she moved one pot aside to give me a better view. She stepped one leg up onto a chair to show me her cunt and leaned forward and stopped, as if in a brief pose.

I could see her beautiful pink labia droop through. I didn't need a camera. That image is forever etched in my mind.

I looked up to see her looking right at my cock and then she looked right up at me. Stoic. She did not change her facial expression. She moved to stick one finger in her mouth. She spread her legs a bit more. And with her other hand, she moved two fingers to her pussy and began to work her clit. I almost blew my load right there. I released my now raging cock from my sweats. I stroked myself openly before her as she fingered herself slowly at first and then more frantically, with two fingers buried in her cunt at times. I could hear her fingers working wet meat.

It didn't take long. I shot a load of cum out the window and onto the ground 30 feet below. I could see by her contorted face, that she had gotten there too. She came with a small momentous cry. Beautiful woman with a beautiful little orgasmic cry. Then, she exhaled fully, like she had released a tremendous cloud of energy. After a minute or so she put her raised leg back down onto the floor and stepped heavily back into the darkness of her room. She looked up one last time and briefly smiled as she gave me some gesture of a wave goodbye. I just stood there with my dick in my hand.

After that, our rendezvous became a little more regular. I practiced with my acoustic guitar in the chair by the window at 2pm some days while I was working from home, hoping she might take a break and come out... It worked. I played and she danced in her window for a song or two. She wore bra and panties, usually. One time, standing in the window, she changed into a different bra and panty. She turned and bent over to show me her most private parts. She looked me in the eye as she did. She slid her hand up between her legs and slid a finger deep into her pussy. She has a beautiful ass. That was hot. But our sessions didn't always go to nudity.

The last time we rendezvoused, I jerked off into her mouth as she mimed sucking my cock from 10 feet away with her mouth wide open and her tongue out. She liked to see me cum, I could tell. She kept at it until I was finished. She watched intently when I blew my load. She smiled, but didn't say a word. She closed the curtains and went back to her normal life until the next time, and so did I.

End