From a Sixth Floor Window Pt. 01

The blinds in the living room were open just enough to allow Cathy to see out while standing back a few feet. With the lights off in the apartment, the target of her attention could not see her watching him, even if he were to look directly at the window. She was awaiting his return from a run in the park. The secretive voyeur had stood in the shadows looking out this way many times before, impatiently waiting for him to reappear. But this time was different, for she had finally decided to reveal herself and turn her suppressed fantasies into reality.

Michael Capriatti had moved into the six-story building in Springfield on a rainy day five months earlier. He had caught Cathy's eye when she happened to look out the window while he was carrying a heavy box up the entryway staircase. He seemed like an average Joe, not overly attractive, muscular, or model-like, but there was something in the way he moved, something in his smile and confident look that turned Cathy on. She studied him, intrigued by the way he carried himself. Several friends were helping him move into his new place, but this charismatic man who had captured this lonely woman's attention was clearly the leader of the pack. The watcher in the window was fascinated. She did not back away until the moving truck drove off.

The following weekend, Cathy spied her newest neighbor going down the steps dressed for jogging. He paused on the sidewalk to stretch his muscles using the railings which bordered the property. He was, of course, oblivious to the fact that he had an audience. His hidden admirer became aroused by the display of athletic discipline as she watched him doing warm-up exercises. Her mind drifted into dreamy visions about touching him all over his body. She loved how his tight shorts hugged the curvy lines of his bulge and buttocks. After Michael crossed the street to run in the wooded trails along the river, Cathy pulled up a chair and waited more than an hour for him to get back.

Her jaw dropped when she saw him again. She had a fetish for athletes showing signs of exertion. His labored breathing and sweat-covered body left no doubt that he had pushed it hard on the run. Cathy's heart was pounding with desire as he did cool-down stretches on the rails, his damp skin glistening in the dying sunlight. All she could think about was having sex with him. She wanted to go down there, but she knew she couldn't make a move in that direction.

There was a dichotomy, a split in Cathy's psyche that produced deep inner turmoil. The "good girl" persona she presented to the world had developed from a model Catholic upbringing that demanded obedience to the highest standards of virtue. This soft-spoken woman moved in social circles that upheld propriety and conservative behavior. People respected her, perhaps too much, for she felt like she was balancing on a shaky pedestal with a fractured foundation.

Then there was the Cathy that very few people knew about, the gal who would drive fifty miles out of town to hang out at seedy bars getting free drinks from men who would take her to cheap motels for an easy lay. This alter-ego got her kicks from wanton sex and zipless fucks in secret rendezvous with dozens of partners. She answered and put up ads on every hookup site she could find online. Having sex with men she knew were beneath her made her feel powerful and desirable. The trysts became a compulsive addiction she had to feed to keep herself afloat. Her dark side had to come out, even though such behavior put her reputation and eternal soul at risk. She was willing to pay the price of the guilt and shame she often felt afterward in order to act out on her base impulses.

This jogger, however, was unattainable. She felt this sophisticated man was above her. Her idealization of him made it impossible for her to conceive of their connecting. She was not worthy of him. The inner voices were clear and adamant that the bad girl within must dampen her desires. The marathon man was off-limits.

But she could not make him disappear. He was there, close by. Cathy glanced out the window constantly to see if he might be around. She memorized his running schedule to ensure she would catch him at the start of his routine and to feel the tension rise as she waited for his return. Her need seemed to increase with every spotting of him. Gradually this need developed into an obsession.

Cathy was pleased to discover he lived on the sixth floor near the end of the long hallway from her. She checked the mailbox in the lobby to get his name, then did a paid online identity search. The Facebook junkie pulled up his page daily. The stalking began. The desperate detective followed him in her car several times to find out where he worked and what he did for a living. With each escalation, the urges increased in intensity. The observer purchased a camera with a zoom lens with which she stealthily took several hundred pictures, mainly at the end of his runs when his sweaty body oozed sexuality. Cathy was so delighted with a few shots that she blew them up to frame size. The glassy-eyed girl would sit looking at them, locked in reverie for this man who didn't even know she existed. She did not, however, masturbate with him in her head. Her inner angel would not allow it.

On a Saturday afternoon in mid-August, Cathy looked out the window as Michael's car was pulling up. A woman hopped out of the passenger's seat and hustled to Michael's side before crossing the street with him. It was apparent they had a romantic connection. She was stunning. Her long blonde hair flowed in the gentle breeze. Even from a distance, her smile and pale blue eyes were magnetic. And this gorgeous babe had a body that could turn the heads of every man around.

To Cathy, this beauty was at the top of the pyramid, the embodiment of everything she wanted in life but could never attain: looks, style, class, a perfect body and weight, happiness, and most of all, the man. She fumed with jealousy while sinking into depression as she watched them going up the steps holding hands. The contrasting emotions hit in waves, causing her to alternate between crying jags and childlike tantrums. The lonely heart poured herself a tumbler of Jack Daniels. As the effects of the whiskey kicked in, Cathy saw the couple going back to the car, out for a night on the town.

They returned after midnight. Cathy was still in the chair looking out the window, functionally drunk. She watched the pair pause for a kiss before ascending the steps. Michael grabbed his lover by the hair, pulling her into him as he groped her breast with a sense of urgency.

A half-hour later, Cathy walked down the long quiet hallway, a senseless maneuver, but in her distress, she felt compelled to get closer to the object of her obsession. Nearing apartment 617, the nervous voyeur could hear the sounds of passion as she tiptoed closer, pressing her ear to the door. They were making love in the living room. She listened at the door, excited by the grunting and moaning. The two were going at it hard. There was a creaking sound from the springs of the couch they were screwing on. Cathy felt the heat building between her legs as her throbbing heart accelerated.

"Oh god, Michael, fuck me harder, give it to me, Sir, give it to me, I need it, make your girl come."

The creaking from the springs got louder and faster. The golden-haired girlfriend started screeching. Cathy leaned her ear hard against the door.

"Fuck me! I'm so close, fuck me, fuck me! Make me come, Daddy, make me come, please make me come, Daddy! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, so fucking yes! I'm coming, Daddy!"

The eavesdropper felt like a pervert as she listened intently, violating their privacy, but she could not pull away. Cathy reveled in depravity, becoming more aroused as she focused on the sounds of the powerful orgasms wracking the body of the woman she longed to be. The man she craved was proving his worth to her by taking this blonde goddess to the heights of sexual ecstasy. Every moan, every scream of pleasure coming from behind the closed door sent vibrations rippling through Cathy's body, ratcheting her desire to the sky. Her legs weakened when she heard his voice for the first time, saying words she was stunned to hear.

"Kathy, baby, take me, take my come, take me! Fuck! Baby! Kathy! Kathy! Kathy! I love you, Kathy!"

Just then, the door at the next apartment opened, its squeaky hinges echoing down the corridor. A neighbor was taking a bag of garbage to the chute at the end of the hall. Cathy jumped away from the door, trying to look nonchalant, but the old lady gave her a funny look walking by. The embarrassed girl hurried back to her flat at the opposite end.

Reaching the safety of seclusion in her home, Cathy dropped onto her bed and took out her ribbed glass dildo. She frantically fucked herself as hard as she could with the experience replaying in her head, having multiple orgasms that had her wreathing all over the mattress. They were by far the strongest of her life. When finished, she fell asleep, exhausted, buzzing in sexual bliss.

The following week, Cathy was on an emotional roller coaster ride. A war raged inside her, tearing at the fabric of her spirit. She had to decide which path to take. The "bad girl" was about to win the battle.

On this Sunday afternoon, after Michael had gone for his run in the park, Cathy decided to take the plunge. She took two hits off a pipe and downed two shots of Jack to keep her anxieties from deterring her. She then waited for him to reappear and finish his cool-down. As he started up the stairs, Cathy walked down the hall.

When the bell rang to signal the arrival of the elevator car on the sixth floor, Cathy messed her hair a bit while putting on a worried expression. When Michael walked out, she was ready.

"Excuse me, sir, could help me for a minute? A pipe has cracked under my sink, and I can't stop the water. I don't know where the shutoff valve is. I'm embarrassed to ask, but maybe you're better at this kind of thing than me."

"Sure, I don't know where it is either, but I bet we can find it if we work together. Is the floor flooded?"

"No, I put a large bucket under the pipe. I keep emptying it."

"Okay, let's take a look."

Cathy could barely feel her feet hitting the floor as they walked down the hall. She was edgy and nervous about the risk she was taking. When they entered her apartment, the schemer locked the door behind them and stood there.

"Is it the kitchen or the bathroom sink?"

"There is no leak."

Michael tilted his head with a quizzical expression on his face. Cathy stepped forward and looked directly into his eyes. There was a long pause as they communicated silently. The huntress stared at him with a pleading look tinged with a dollop of trepidation. Her prey felt confused, but after an eternity of a few seconds, he recognized the flames of desire rising in the windows of her soul. The hungry woman detected the hint of acceptance in his eyes.

"I've been watching you."

"For what reason?"

"This."

Cathy lowered her gaze while reaching out to touch his crotch. She kneeled before him, lovingly caressing the outline of his penis with her fingers. The touches were soft yet deliberate, full of admiration but demanding reception. Cathy was all in; her cards were on the table. She felt a sudden twitch against her fingers. Smiling, she put a tad more pressure on his member. In less than a minute, his cock swelled to its full length and hardness, straining against the tight Lycra material of his light blue running shorts. She gasped. Her gamble had paid off. It was now time to claim the prize.

Leaning forward, Cathy pressed her lips against his shaft, sliding them up and down with a light touch. She was delighted when she felt several more twitches. The libertine pleasured him slowly, savoring the moment like a fine brandy. He allowed her free rein to experience its power as much as she wanted. And oh, did she want to!

His cock had stud stature, easily over eight inches, with a hardness that would make a diamond jealous. A singular feature of his manhood was the swollen helmet that edged out a half inch from the shaft. Cathy ran her lips around the cloth-covered outline of it several times. She was anxious to experience it fully but determined to take her time.

In her many hookups, Cathy had developed the ability to produce copious amounts of saliva when using her mouth on a man. As she moved up and down, she released a flow of spit that soaked the tight cloth encasing his cock, staining it a dark blue. The receiver could feel the moist heat. He squirmed, enjoying her pacing. This aggressive surprise coming from a complete stranger had revved his motor up. Her next move sent it into the red zone.

Before exposing his cock, Cathy moved to the top to nibble around the rim. With the cloth covering the sensitive area, she dared to dig in with her teeth slightly. The effect was electric. What would have been painful on naked skin was pleasurable beyond description through the protective clothing. Michael's knees buckled, letting the biter know she had found an area that demanded more attention. She nibbled in a circle around the hood, taking chances by occasionally nipping harder. Michael groaned, falling back against the wall, but the euphoric aggressor did not let him escape.

Slowing the tempo, Cathy began pulling his shorts down in small increments. They were tight, with the sweat and saliva making them even more so. She tugged down on them playfully, exposing his cock. When the shorts reached his thighs, they fell from their own weight down to the floor. Michael lifted one foot at a time as Cathy removed them, folding them neatly before putting them to the side.

The beggar on her knees was awestruck as she looked up at the most perfect cock she had ever seen. Its size, shape, hardness, and girth were at the top of the scale, exuding the grandeur of its ineffable power and potency, fit for a Greek god. Cathy adored this fully erect Olympian phallus just waiting to receive her attention.

She became a peasant serving her king, a groupie pleasuring a rock star, and a submissive surrendering her ego to her Dominant; all rolled into one. Nothing mattered except giving. Sex had always been about taking, for Cathy had never really had any respect for the men she had picked up. Her licentious behavior had always been self-focused, a mixture of physical cravings and sinful satisfaction. Now, for the first time, her only concern was pleasing her man without regard for her own pleasure. But as she was about to discover, the paradox inherent in Domination/submission is that the submissive receives what she has always craved the most.

Time ceased to exist as Cathy began worshipping his cock with her hands. She touched it lightly with tenderness and admiration, her fingertips sliding up and down the length of it repeatedly, increasing the pressure gradually to build tension. She brought her fingernails into play by cupping her hand around his balls and dragging her nails straight across them. Michael gasped. Cathy looked up at him with a smile, meeting his gaze with an angelic look that left no doubt about her total devotion to pleasing him.

Rising up a few inches, Cathy took the head of his cock into her mouth. She swirled her tongue in circles around the sensitive rim, getting an immediate response. Michael moaned and quivered while placing his trembling hand in Cathy's hair. The sensations multiplied as she pressed harder, scraping her teeth lightly across the area.

"Oh my god, that feels so fucking good! Oh baby, yes!"

The thrilling words hit Cathy like a freight train of joy. Her spirit was soaring in the clouds, propelling her to give more and more to this incredible man who had been at the apex of her fantasies for so long. A glob of thick saliva oozed from her lips, moving down his shaft. She reached down to catch it before it dripped off, sliding the froth back up with her hand. The cocksucker saturated his manhood with her spit, using it as lubrication and a source of visual stimulation for the Superman of her dreams. She began to bob her lips, going further down by micrometers with every oral thrust. On the upstroke, the talented slut would suck hard, creating a vacuum effect that devastated the recipient's ability to maintain control. He was heading to an orgasm he wanted to delay, for he needed to show this hungry girl who was in command.

On a long downstroke, when her lips were almost to the hilt, Micheal grabbed Cathy by the back of her head and forced her to take it all the way in. She immediately gagged but made herself take it deeper. She could feel the head touching her throat. He pushed further, causing her gag reflex to activate full bore. She choked, releasing huge amounts of saliva which flowed down his balls and legs. There was a power play going on. Neither side would relent. Michael pushed further, pulling her in by her hair. Her esophagus spasmed, spurting stomach acid into the mix. When breathing became a problem, Cathy grabbed his testicles hard, with the implicit threat of more. The dominant partner admired her for hanging in there until she had no choice. He released her.

Cathy came up for air and sucked in a deep breath with a long wheeze. She had absorbed his show of authority. The time had now arrived to give her all to take him over the edge. She began to fellate him with purpose. The rhythmic strokes were long and deep, with lots of suction that overpowered his will to hold on. Her heavy breathing added to the effect, driving him onward. His eyes closed while his legs started to quiver.

"Take me! Take me! Oh, god, take me!

Michael erupted into a mind-bending orgasm that shook him to the core. Never had Cathy taken such pleasure in a partner's climax. His semen squirted in long bursts, his thick cum tasting so sweet as it filled her mouth. She kept going until she sensed that he had reached the point where male post-orgasm sensitivity dictated it was time to stop.

The pair took a few minutes to recover, Cathy leaning her head on Michael's leg. She was unsure of what to do next. He settled the issue quickly.

"Stand up."

Cathy got to her feet, albeit slowly.

Michael leaned in, forcing her back into the wall. He put his hand on her chin, looking into her eyes.

"I will be coming back at precisely 10 pm tonight. You will leave your door unlocked. I will enter without knocking. You will be in the middle of your living room floor, in the doggie-style position. You will be naked except for a black blindfold, that is sufficiently tight to keep out all light. You are not to touch yourself between now and then. Do you understand these Instructions?"

"I... I am not sure..."

He pushed her against the wall with much greater force.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"Good. That is all for now."

Michael put his shorts back on and walked out. Cathy started thinking about making a black blindfold.