Peeping Thomasina

Peeping Thomasina

A Short Story by jokermon (J.K. Ermon)

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction, presented for the entertainment of adults only. All people and events in this story are purely imaginary and should not be confused with any real-life people, events, or medical conditions. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your bag, don't read it. If it's unlawful for you to read this type of material where you reside, don't read it. This story is copyright the author©2009

~~~

Josephine Thomas entered her apartment practically jumping with excitement. She dropped her groceries on the kitchen counter and ran to the bedroom, where her telescope waited on its tall, three-legged perch.

She had just dashed up four flights of stairs from the underground parking garage. She had been fumbling groceries out of her Corolla's trunk when she saw Marguerite, the buttoned-down thirtysomething from across the way stepping into the elevator. Marguerite was carrying a plastic bag from the local video store. The sight galvanized Josie; the bag could only mean one thing. Fifty-three seconds later, she was at her telescope.

Josie wedged two of her closed blinds apart with the business end of the 'scope, and then craned her swan-like neck to use the eyepiece. In a second, she was zooming in on Marguerite's apartment. Without realizing she was doing it, Josie gave her lips a slow, lascivious lick.

Her blinking blue eyes were comically magnified by her big, square-framed glasses. Her irises filled the lenses. With her pulled-back blonde hair and large nose, she looked somewhat like a female, twentyish version of Ichabod Crane. Like Ichabod, she was slender on top--she could barely fill the 34B-cup bras she insisted on buying--but her incongruous belly-dancer's hips and large, powerful legs saved her from spindly awkwardness. She thanked God daily for maintaining her interest in competitive swimming through university.

Josie and Marguerite lived in an old-fashioned two-story U-shaped apartment building. A large lawn with a swimming pool surrounded by hedges lay between the two wings, and Marguerite's apartment sat directly across from Josie's. And Marguerite never closed her living-room curtains.

Josephine could see her now, seated on her couch, already watching television. The excitable hairs on the nape of Josie's neck stood up. Marguerite's television sat angled away from the window, so Josie couldn't see the screen, but she could, however, see the DVD case lying on top of it. She zoomed in. It was open and empty, with the top flipped up, and Josie's telescope was powerful enough for her to make out the cover.

Oh yes. It was a porno, all right. A slim, large-breasted redheaded girl stood smiling proudly in a tiny pink bikini, surrounded by muscular grinning men in swimsuits. The title of this opus read Gang Wars 13.

It's always the redheads with Marguerite, Josie mused with a smile.

She pulled the view back slightly, and tracked over to Marguerite. That buxom Hispanic lady sat on her couch, working her remote (probably skipping ahead to the good bits, thought Josie) with her legs crossed demurely like any career woman at the end of a long day. She had undone the bun she wore to the office, and her thick mane of inky-black curls tumbled over her shoulders in glorious disarray.

Josie smiled, and a subtle tension she wasn't previously aware of relaxed inside her.

Hi honey, I'm home. The thought came with a surge of warmth and whimsy.

Marguerite had big, liquid-brown eyes with slender brows that rose in inquisitive arches. She had dimpled cheeks, just the slightest double chin, and a tiny, pouting mouth. She had a gigantic bosom which strained the suit jackets she wore, and plump, smooth-skinned legs that tapered fetchingly at her knees and ankles.

Josie licked her lips again as she watched Marguerite undo her ruffled realtor's blouse and open it. She wore a fancy purple lace bra underneath--nothing too revealing for work, but still pretty sexy. It was at least five times bigger than the largest bra Josie owned. And Marguerite's breasts still strained its seams.

Marguerite put down the remote and leaned forward, watching the television intently. She crossed her legs a few times. Her eyes grew brighter and more avid; clearly the action on screen was getting good. Josie watched a long tongue roll out to lick her lips, just like she had done. Great minds think alike, she thought, chuckling to herself.

With an abrupt movement, Marguerite shrugged out of her blouse. She fluffed it out so it wouldn't wrinkle and laid it on the couch beside her. Her arms were more toned than the rest of her, and her hands long and dexterous. She wore light pink nail polish on her fingers and toes. The smooth mocha-au-lait of her shoulders and tummy gleamed.

Marguerite's lips parted, and her cheeks pinkened visibly. She let a hand slide through her hair, and down the side of her throat. Her fingers fluttered over her breastbone.

All of a sudden, her eyes widened, and her lips pursed into an enticing pucker. Something hot must have just happened onscreen. Her chest heaved.

Josie felt her own pulse quicken. Her nipples were already so hard they hurt. A familiar rush of juvenile naughtiness transported her. A tiny remorseful section of her heart said, oh this is just wrong, Josie, you should stop, and she gleefully disobeyed, the way she always did when she spied on Marguerite.

"Come on honey," she coaxed into her telescope. "Give it to me."

As if she overheard, Marguerite stood up and reached behind herself to unclip her bra. She held out her arms, and it fell forward off her chest. The heavy globes of her breasts dropped slightly and joggled with their newfound freedom. Marguerite's dark-brown nipples had wide, bump-ringed areolas, and they stood out every bit as erect as Josie's.

Josie breathed deeply. Her lungs felt like they had enlarged, and her breaths came floating up some vast hollow canyon.

Marguerite bent at the waist to push down her flouncy, violet skirt. No matter how many times she saw them, the size of Marguerite's breasts always astonished Josie; they were like soccer balls. In her stooped-over posture they hung down to her knees.

Marguerite stayed bent over for a moment, untangling her skirt from her heels, making sure it didn't drag on the carpet. Oddly, she wore a pair of string bikini bottoms in lieu of panties, tied tightly at the sides. Her hanging breasts completely hid her crotch. A fury of expectation choked Josie.

Come on, she begged silently. Come on.

And then--the payoff. Still bent over, Marguerite untied her bottoms, whipped them off, and then finally straightened. An erect penis swung out and up from where her tight bottoms had pressed it to the side.

"Ahhhh," sighed Josie. "There we are."

It bounded around in its own little victory dance. It had an arrogant upward curve, and a slightly lighter shade of brown than her nipples. A plum-shaped, red-pink head bobbed atop a broad, arching stalk; the shaft lofted it high enough to hide her navel. Below her penis, Marguerite had a pair of balls the size of ripe apricots swaying in a pendulous sac. She had no pubes, but generally wore modest swimsuits, Josie knew, and had a faint tan line to prove it. The lighter area of her denuded groin darkened into the lust-congested column of her member, forming a bridge of tendons and skin linking the impossible to flesh-and-blood fact.

Without straightening or looking away from the eyepiece, Josie cocked first one hip and then the other to shove her sensible skirt down to her thighs, where it could drop to the floor on its own. She stepped out of it, and put a hand down her plain white cotton working-day panties. She was already wet. Watching Marguerite always made her lubricate strongly, and there was a vacant, needy ache throbbing between her legs. She slipped her fingers through her soft folds to moisten them, and then began rubbing herself briskly with the pads of her index, middle and ring fingers. Pleasure filled her. A hot blush colored her cheeks and spread over her skin.

Josie kept touching herself as her eyes rolled all over Marguerite's body with unalloyed glee. The woman was a joy to behold. Marguerite had a round little belly, but a stunning bottle-neck waist that made the spread of her hips that much more dramatic. The bobbing protrusion of her penis gave the whole package a kinky, surreal, outrageous appeal.

Marguerite picked up the remote and snapped a quick button-press at the screen (probably pausing it, thought Josie dizzily). Then she gathered up her discarded clothes, turned and walked out of her living room. She had a full, round, projecting ass that always made Josie salivate. Her cheeks rocked up and down as she walked.

Marguerite returned from her bedroom sans clothes, but carrying a large beach towel and a pink bottle of moisturizing tanning oil. Her penis remained erect, and jounced heavily this way and that as she walked. Josie watched her drape the towel over her sofa, and noted she kept on her low-rise black heels. Naked except for them, she sat back down on her towel-covered davenport.

Marguerite uncapped the oil and poured a long stream of the stuff over her breasts, belly, and upright prick. She rubbed it in with her other hand. She kneaded her breasts, rolling and pulling her nipples between her fingers. Her whole upper body began to glisten.

Josie tore her gaze from Marguerite for a moment to race to her bed's end table. She yanked it open and retrieved a big red vibrating dildo. She was back squinting into the telescope in a heartbeat. Great, she hadn't missed anything. Marguerite was still engaged in her own dreamy personal foreplay.

Josie yanked down her panties and sent them flying with an impatient kick. Without breaking eye contact for a second, she switched on the vibrator and inserted it into her vagina.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned in a voice that trembled as much as her buzzing plastic toy. Her toes curled to grip the shag of her carpet.

Through her telescope, Josie saw Marguerite had now grasped her penis with both slender hands and was stroking it up and down.

Nice, she gasped in her head. Oh nice, so nice.

Marguerite's chest rose and fell and her wide eyes stared at the television. Her pretty mouth was open and Josie could almost hear her sweet, panting breaths.

One of Marguerite's hands slipped down to cup and fondle her balls. Those mighty orbs enlarged as the skin of their sac pulled up into a gleaming tightness. They lifted and hugged Marguerite's broad root.

She reached underneath them and began rubbing in little circles. Fumbling in her excitement, Josie zoomed in tight and a gust of breath escaped in wonder. She didn't always get to see it, and that made today special; Marguerite's vagina displayed itself to her.

It was a pink, pretty little thing, and the webby skin of her scrotum merged in seamless ridges with her clitoral hood and fat, moist labia. With her balls all swollen and pulled up so tightly now, her vulva lay bare and defenseless. Its inner lips ruffled like seashells as her fingers worked away at it.

Josie began moving her humming plastic friend in and out of herself in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her nipples felt like steel, and they chafed against the cotton of her blouse. She could feel the steamy heat in her body, in her face; it was like standing in front of an open sauna. She undid her top and shrugged it off so she could feel the cool air of the room on her skin. It felt so good to be as naked as Marguerite. Her lust made her woozy, and she felt like giggling like a loon. This was normal.

Marguerite spread her legs wide and Josie gasped. She could see everything: the glistening fuchsia opening, the gleaming pink-brown pucker of her anus, the way her balls bounced atop her busy knuckles and even the shine of her juices on the insides of her thighs.

"Yes," Josie moaned in that plaintive, needy tone Marguerite always brought out of her. "Oh, yes..."

Marguerite's bosom rose and fell faster. Her hand pumped quicker on the curving upright column of her penis. Her other hand gyrated faster at the wrist to rub her clitoris in quicker, tighter loops. There was a light gleam of perspiration on her high, imperious forehead. She licked her lips, and Josie saw the muscles begin jumping in her thighs and her tummy.

"Ohhh yes," Josie whimpered. She pumped faster, matching her own tempo to Marguerite's. Her own arousal soared. It rose and rose, and she gasped when she realized it wasn't going to level off at any intermediate plateau; this was a one-way shuttle all the way to the Promised Land. With her free hand she began frantically rubbing her clitoris. She felt the contractions begin.

Marguerite was right there with her. The woman had closed her eyes; it seemed her own pleasures had finally stolen her attention from those of the performers onscreen. The spine of muscle that ran up the underside of her penis inflated suddenly, and Josie gasped as a fountain of thick, creamy fluid flew up in the air. It shot up at least four feet, described a steep arc and came splattering down across Marguerite's face and throat. Josie could see the tendons in her neck working, (they stood out whitely against her flushed skin) and knew she was gasping or maybe even crying out in her apartment. Another, equally generous spurt followed, splashing thickly all over Marguerite's breasts. Her voluptuous body quaked as her burly penis lobbed semen all over her torso.

"Ohhhh," Josie's breath left her in a harsh, quivery exhalation as a violent orgasm of her own wracked her body. Her eyes rolled up and their lashes fluttered. She swayed on her feet and almost knocked over her telescope.

Her vision went kind of starry for a few moments. When she regained her senses, a lock of hair had come free from her ponytail and she shook it out of her face. Pleasurable little jolts ricocheted about her hips and tummy. She was sweaty and panting. A happy, silly smile had pasted itself to her face.

She put her eye back to the telescope. She had bumped it, and had to zoom out to reacquire Marguerite's apartment before zooming in again.

Josie's smile curled more deeply. Marguerite filled her lens, and she was one sultry, satisfied Latina. She lay sprawled on her couch, arms flung out to the sides, her sweaty body covered in glimmering pools of sperm. Her considerable bust rose and fell at a much slower pace now. Whitish rivulets ran down her cheeks, and a string of it hung across her open, sighing mouth. Bubbly semen glossed her sulky, tantalizing lips. The sight put another shiver through Josie's loins.

Marguerite's brown eyes were lidded and slutty from her climax. She heaved a great sigh and licked her lips. She wiped her face with her fingertips and then sucked them clean.

Josie wondered what her come tasted like. The few boys she'd sucked to completion had been bland and vaguely salty. Not bad, but certainly nothing to inspire the kind of relish with which Marguerite always licked up her own ejaculate.

Josie got another pleasant little quiver as she watched Marguerite lift up each weighty round breast and lap up more cream. She watched as she raised her arms, smiled up at the ceiling, and gave a long, languid, feline stretch.

Marguerite sat up, fluffed out her hair, and then wrapped the big beach towel around herself. She rose and half-limped, half-swayed off to her bathroom.

Josie sighed. Marguerite's post-masturbatory shower would last a good fifteen minutes, she knew, and her favorite neighbor would then spend the rest of the evening in either a pair of silk pyjamas or a huge comfy terry robe. Any further monkey business would then occur in her bedroom, and those curtains were always closed.

Josie left her telescope and lay down on her bed. She took stock of herself: she was limp and drained, but her blood was still up. She was blazing in that special way that only Marguerite could inspire, and one orgasm just wasn't going to cut it. She had planned on doing Yoga this evening, but as loose as she felt now, it would be superfluous.

She began masturbating again, this time at a slower, more luxurious pace. She closed her eyes and replayed Marguerite's performance in loving slow-mo. It was fresh and vivid in her mind. Josie freed a hand to fumble blindly through her bedside table for her lube and anal beads. She wanted to get extra freaky tonight.

~~~

Josephine had discovered Marguerite's secret entirely by accident the previous year. She'd been adjusting the zoom for what was promising to be a spectacular autumn moonrise and misjudged the tilt. She found herself with a lens-full of her naked across-the-way neighbor instead.

Marguerite's extraordinary anatomy floored Josie. Even though a part of her knew it was inexcusable to violate someone else's privacy this way, she kept her telescope's sighting aperture right where it was. At first it was because she couldn't believe her eyes, but then it was because she couldn't look away. She felt the wet trickle down her thigh, and realized her heart and pussy were both pounding with excitement. Marguerite made her hotter than anyone or anything she'd ever encountered. When the dark temptress ejaculated, the contortions of her face and body made Josie come, on the spot, without even touching herself.

Blushing and appalled, she had rushed into her shower to scrub away the experience. As she soaped herself up, she began masturbating. The images now indelibly stamped in her mind were just too potent to resist.

When she came, it was every bit as life-altering as the first time she'd made love. She'd never come so quickly or explosively. Most of it was Marguerite, but part of it was the illicit thrill of spying--the idea of seeing things she wasn't supposed to see. She came four times in the space of an hour, which was an undreamt-of record for her. Each jarring orgasm followed quickly after the other. By the time she hauled her pruney, rubber-legged body out of her shower, she had resigned herself to her fate. She was hooked.

Josie couldn't fathom it then, and still couldn't now. She'd never had any voyeuristic tendencies before. Erotic pictures and movies tended to embarrass rather than arouse her. Even now she couldn't bring herself to photograph or take digital videos of Marguerite, even though the technology was readily available. It just seemed wrong to her, a line of creepiness she couldn't cross.

Whenever Marguerite stripped and masturbated, however (which she did at least four times a week), Josie had absolutely no reservations about enjoying that to the fullest. She had amassed quite a collection of sex toys over the last year to enhance her voyeuristic pleasures. Marguerite had the ability to make Josephine forget for brief, sweet periods that she was a dorky bespectacled woman with a big nose, small tits, and no social graces. Her dull job at a downtown investment house had blossomed into a rewarding career; she could now afford a much swankier apartment, even a modest house if she wanted, but there was no way she would ever move away from Marguerite.

~~~

Josephine tensed, gasped loudly, and then went limp with a whimper. She took deep breaths and luxuriated in that sense of ineffable well-being a good strong orgasm always gave her. She had come so many times, and so intensely, that she actually smarted a little between the legs. Her anus stung pleasantly, too. She had not been gentle with herself.

Her glazed eyes stared at the ceiling, where she had pinned all of her old glow-in-the dark star charts. As a kid, she'd been an avid junior astronomer and had even considered making a career of it. Her life hadn't unfolded quite that way, but it remained an engaging hobby. She'd never been without a telescope, even during her impoverished student years.