Peeking

The first time it happened, she'd been so sure it was an accident. Startled and embarrassed, she turned from the window so quickly that she stumbled over the side table by the bed. If she'd learned anything from her first three months in England, it was that its inhabitants were more reserved about everything than she was used to; her cheeks burned to think that she had caught her neighbor in such a private moment.

Later, though, as she tried to fall asleep, her mind kept bringing her back to the sight she'd seen in the lit bedroom window. She couldn't pull herself away from the enticing image of a firm cock being rhythmically stroked. In her mind's eye, she replayed the momentary glance, trying to remember whether the man's hand had been cupping his balls, or whether that was her own fantasy kicking in. She tried to banish the mental picture, but the more she thought about that snapshot image, the further sleep was. Her hands strayed to one tightening nipple, and her body suddenly reminded her how good that felt. With all the stress of settling in and starting a new job, she'd been neglecting herself. The sudden urge between her legs would not be denied, and she sighed as she slid her finger into the warm wetness. Quicker than she would have believed, she was gasping and arching and picturing the man's anonymous ecstasy.

For the next few days, she scrupulously kept her head down when coming in and out of the house. Although she knew it was absurd, she felt that if she were to run into him, one look at her face would reveal her nighttime fantasies. Every evening when she arrived, she resolutely closed her curtains. Yes, best just to avoid temptation. Besides, who knew what kind of laws there were about that over here?

*****

The last week before the holidays passed in a blur of deadlines. After the obligatory happy hour on Friday, she was tired and cold by the time she arrived home, and went directly up to the bedroom to change out of the red silk suit she had worn for the evening. As she entered the darkened room, illuminated only by the light from the hallway, she saw the light go on in his room.

Was it the wine? What was it that made her freeze in place rather than scurrying to close the drapes? She hovered by the doorway, hardly breathing, as if he could hear her across the alley.

He was as handsome as she had remembered, and when he removed his shirt she knew that any hope of maintaining her pledge to respect his privacy was gone. Slowly and almost intentionally, he trailed his fingers down across his left nipple, rubbing and pinching. Mesmerized now, she watched him lick his finger and then return it to the aching nub, rubbing it until it stiffened, then transferring the wet finger to the right nipple.

Breathless now, and cursing herself for the indiscretion, she reached down and began stroking her nipples through the silk. They'd been taut and hard all night; she knew that from how many men at the pub had stared at her chest. She'd always enjoyed playing with her breasts, but touching her nipples while silently, secretly watching him touch his own was exciting her faster than she thought possible. Small groans were escaping her lips, and the sound of her own arousal fired her passion even more.

The man was rubbing his trousers now, fondling the very obvious bulge that was covered there. She opened the buttons of her blouse and snapped the front closure on her bra to release her aching breasts. Never taking her eyes off the image in the window, her hands eagerly closed on her breasts, squeezing them almost roughly enough to hurt.

Slowly, almost as if he were performing, the man unbuckled his belt and cast it aside. He deliberately, slowly lowered the zipper to reveal the briefs beneath. As he turned to remove his trousers, she got an intoxicating glimpse of a firm, white-cotton covered ass.

For what seemed like an eternity, he continued to fondle his cock and play with his balls through the underwear. Occasionally the swollen head peeked out through the waistband. Quickly she shrugged off the silk blouse, stripped off her short skirt, and stood only in her black silk panties. She could feel the juices gathering between her legs. She would not turn back now.

All shame gone now, her hand stroked her pussy over the silk as she silently urged him to take off the briefs. She was hotter than she had been in weeks, riding her fingers and feeling the warmth beginning in her belly and moving down to her clit. She suddenly felt her first orgasm coming, and her fingers moved up to tug and pinch her sensitive nipple. Just as she was exploding, soaking her panties, the man across the alley looked up and stared right into her eyes. Then he smiled.

*****

She froze, but was coming too hard to stop. And it felt too good to stop, even though she knew that she was clearly illuminated by the hallway light. Once the spasms subsided, she raised her eyes and looked back at him, tentatively but calmly.

Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he stepped out of the briefs. The cock was just as hard and enticing as her brief glimpse had told her. When he reached down to grasp it, another jolt of excitement went through her clit, and she decided to play this game out, regardless of what it cost her.

One orgasm was never enough for her, especially with this kind of visual stimulation. As the man started to slowly pump his erection, she slid her underwear off and sat back in the chair by the door. She spread her legs and looked him in the eyes, challenging him to look away.

She sensed, rather than heard, him moan as he stared at her pussy. It was too far away for him to see many details, but she knew that he could at least see how red it was, and how glistening her lips were from her earlier orgasm. The stance alone, perched on a ladderback chair with legs akimbo, was something out of a porno film.

He was stroking harder now, and she started stroking her clit in the same rhythm. Good lord, that was an impressive cock. She had never seen an uncircumsized penis before, and she stared, wondering what that head would feel like in her mouth, how she could tease it with her tongue. He jerked it firmly, leaning into the strokes, as if fucking his hand. Fucking his hand....she wondered what it would feel like inside her, pushing into her tightness.

She was emitting little moans now, groaning against her fingers as she watched him stroke. Oh, and yes, he had been cupping those balls, or at least he was now, rolling and caressing them in his fingers as if to show her how full and sensitive they were. She ran her tongue over her lips, wishing she could lick and tease his sac.

The awareness of what she was doing washed over her, and she knew she should be shocked, appalled, fleeing, but she couldn't stop watching him masturbate. Nor could she pull her hand away from her clit, aching again and swelling. The sight of that cock was enchanting, especially knowing that it was hardening and filling while she watched. Her watching was turning him on, and the thought was spurring her on to levels of arousal she'd never known. She felt the familiar tingle and knew it wouldn't be long before she was spurting again.

She met his eyes. He was close, too. Stroking faster now, and breathing hard by the looks of it. His penis was beautiful, hard and red and leaking. As her moans increased, she wondered what it would taste like. She was riding the ridge now, rubbing faster and moaning loudly as she watched him nearing his orgasm. His balls were tightening, moving nearer his body, and she watched carefully to time her climax with this.

And Oh. Wet warmth spurted from her pussy as she came, pushing against her hand. She bucked and cried out, still coming, as she watched thick ropes of cum spurt out of his throbbing cock. His face contorted with joy as he squeezed and milked his balls. It seemed to take him forever to stop coming, and she imagined rubbing the jism into her breasts, teasing her nipples with it. Pinching her nipple now, she groaned with delight at the sight of his orgasm, rubbing her clit franticly till every drop of her climax was drained, leaving her gasping and weak and tingling.

*****

She smiled a small, satisfied smile as she turned off the light and fell into bed. Perhaps the English weren't so standoffish, after all.