tagFirst TimeThe Other Side of the Window

The Other Side of the Window


This story would also fit in the mature and exhibitionist/voyeur categories, but was submitted in the first time category.

It's a story that begins with a boy looking for his dog.


Chapter One: Looking for Barney.

"Damn it, Barney!" I snapped while stumbling through the brush in search of the family dog.

It had become a fairly common occurrence for the little beagle to wander off at night when being let out for his final bathroom trip of the day before going to bed.

I had a love/hate relationship with the dog, and as he worked his way through the backyards of the neighbors, it wasn't love he was feeling from me. This was a quiet rural area but still, a guy could get shot if somebody got the wrong idea and mistook me for a prowler, but I continued on the trail as I followed the rustling of leaves that Barney was creating.

I was already three - no - four houses down from my house when I reached the backyard of the Yates family. Actually, it was now just Mrs. Yates, as their kids had grown up and moved away and her husband had left. Divorced, deserted, dead? Who knew? All I knew was that she was all alone in there now, and Barney was still ahead of me, in search of who knows what.

Must be tough to live alone, I thought for a second, and then shook my head. Living alone has got to be a lot better than living with your parents and kid brother. Having just graduated high school last June, I had started working at the local Price Chopper, and figured that if everything went well, I could get an apartment in town and really start living, because there was nothing to do out here in the sticks.

That changed in the blink of an eye, or rather, in the turning on of a light in the Yates house. I just about jumped out of my skin when it went on, so intent was I to find that little SOB, and then afraid that I had been seen and would be forced to explain what the hell I was doing out here, and so I jumped behind a tree and waited.

From inside the lighted room, I saw someone moving around. Mrs. Yates. She was moving around the room, and to my great relief she was not looking out the window to see who was out there.

She should get some blinds or something though, because you could see right through the window at her, just as clear as day. Of course, to see in the window, you would have to be standing in her back yard, as there were no houses behind the Yates place, and the adjoining houses were pretty far away and well out of the line of vision.

She probably figures that nobody wants to look into an old lady's bedroom, I surmised, moving a little closer while trying to stay out of the square of light that shone out onto the backyard.

Mrs. Yates had to be real old. I remembered her kids going off to college at least seven or eight years ago, and they were almost ten years older than me. That would make them at least 28, so that means that Mrs. Yates would be around 50 at least. That makes her older than my parents, and that means old.

Still, she didn't look half bad through the window, and for some reason I moved closer to the house to get a better view. Mrs. Yates - what was her first name? Rhonda? Rose? I had always called old people Mr. and Mrs., so I wasn't sure.

She had short reddish-brown hair and was wearing wearing a housecoat that looked a lot like the one my own mother wore, and that was certainly no turn on. Now if she would only take that thing off - now THAT would be something worth looking at.

As if on command, Mrs. Yates shrugged off the house coat and tossed it on the bed. Wow! Now Mrs. Yates was standing there in just a bra and panties, brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

The bra and panties were both white, and the panties were full cut, so none of her ass was showing. Her bra was one of those long-line type things, and it was plain to see why she needed that extra support. Those tits looked really big inside that bulky harness.

Never noticed that about Mrs. Yates before, but then again, I had never seen her without a blouse on. She wasn't built like those girls in the magazines. She was a little thick in the waist, and her arms weren't skinny little twigs either, but she was in good shape. If only she would take that bra off.

Just then, Mrs. Yates left the room. I waited for a minute, not sure if she would be coming back in the bedroom again soon. Hurry up, I whispered, because I've got better things to do than stand outside an old lady's bedroom window all night.

Like what? Looking for my dog? I knew that I would stay out here for quite a while longer, waiting and hoping. I was going to stay for as long as it took. This was not something I had ever done before, and it was a testimony as to how boring my life had become. The few friends I did have were now off to college, while I hung around here trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life.

Without even realizing what I was doing, my hand snaked down to my jeans and slowly pulled down my zipper. My dick was hard, and while it was tough to get it out of the fly, I managed without incident.

How sick this was, I thought, while my hand slowly stroked my member. Acting like pervert and looking into a neighbor's window was bad enough, but jacking off besides? Masturbation had become a regular event in my daily life, but now taking my act out on the road was bringing it to a new level.

Mrs. Yates appeared from around the corner, and I caught a brief frontal glimpse of her panties. No hair was peeking out, but I could see the outline of her pubic hair clearly as it pressed against the white cotton.

"Oh ma, that looks like a thick bush," I said softly to no one, happy that she wasn't one of those women that shaved their pussy. "Now just reach back and take that bra off."

Mrs. Yates didn't reach back to undo her bra. Instead, her hands went to the front and unclasped the hooks there, and instantly the harness lurched forward, and she casually let the straps slip off her shoulders.

"Oh man!" I gasped, as Mrs. Yates set the bra aside.

Her breasts were enormous! They burst out of their confinement the second that last hook came undone; tits as big as any that I could ever recall seeing in any magazine. They eased down to her waist like torpedoes, but they looked pretty firm, not sagging and droopy like some African chick in the National Geographic.

I came as this went on; my cock belching out seed all over the foundation of the Yates house as the force of my orgasm almost doubled me over.

While the last of the cum dripped out of me, I regretted not having more self-control, because now Mrs. Yates was rubbing some lotion on those incredible tits of hers, and her jugs were so big that she needed to use both hands to lather up each one.

Her nipples were thick stubs that stuck way out from the coaster-sized areolas, and while she massaged them, the nipples seemed to get even bigger.

"I'll do that for you," I whispered in the darkness. "I can do it really good."

That was pure conjecture on my part, because I had only touched one tit in my entire life, and Connie's little bud in no way resembled what I was looking at here.

As I put myself back into my pants, I heard panting behind me. Barney. The little fucker had found me, and was now ready to go home. For once I didn't mind him giving me a tour of the neighborhood, because looking at Mrs. Yates was worth the trip. I even gave him an extra treat when we got home.

"I will never do that again," I muttered to myself after climbing into bed, still amazed that I had done something so insane just a few doors down from my house. What if I had gotten caught?

Almost worth it, I had to admit, and it was almost as good a few minutes hater, when I jerked myself off again as I relived that image in my mind before going to sleep.


Chapter Two: So much for that.

After making that vow to myself, there was no way that I would ever go back to the Yates house again. I went to work and had a distracted day, comparing every woman that came in the store to Mrs. Yates, wondering what surprises they had hidden under their clothing.

After dinner, I let Barney out as usual, and as had been his recent habit, took off on me. Off I went again in hot pursuit, and just as the night before, I ended up in the Yates backyard. The bedroom light wasn't on, and that was probably for the best, I figured.

Then again, I had come out a little bit earlier than last night, so I decided to keep going down past the Yates yard and track down my bonehead beagle. I did keep looking back at the window, just in case, because maybe she was a woman of habit and went to bed at the same time every night.

Barney was found in the next yard, and as I dragged his butt back home, the light went on. Chasing the dog through the tall grass, I doubled back as fast as I could, hoping for a repeat performance.

There she was, taking off her housecoat again, and wearing a black bra tonight. This one wasn't quite as bulky as the other one, and showed a lot more of her cleavage as well.

"Wait for me," I mumbled as I tried to get my hard on out of my pants.

I made a mental note to wear something less cumbersome, if I should ever come back again. If. That was funny. I was as hooked on Mrs. Yates as the rest of the country was on American Idol.

There was no harm being done, or so I reasoned. It wasn't like I was taking pictures or anything. This was just my own private show. That's it. Take the bra off. Is it a front hook or a back hook?

She reached back, then put her hands on her back and turned her hips a little from side to side, as if her back was bothering her or something.

"I'll rub your back, Mrs. Yates," I whispered as I watched her teasing me by doing all of these little contortions, making me suffer in the damp evening air.

Then her hands reached back, and after she undid the hooks, the bra cups flew forward and the harness was free. Those beautiful breasts looked even better tonight, rolling a bit from side to side as she moved.

Suddenly her arms flew upward, and as she stretched her body, I saw the most amazing thing. Mrs. Yates had hair under her arms. Thick brown tufts of hair sprouted out of the pockets of her underarms as she contorted her body, and as I stared in wide-eyed wonder, I ejaculated.

That was incredible. I had never seen a woman with hairy armpits before. All the girls I had ever seen either had stubble under their arms or were smooth. I remembered seeing a picture of Julia Roberts with hair under her arms, and I recalled the guys and other girls making fun of her, but I had still thought she was pretty.

This added dimension did nothing but make Mrs. Yates sexier in my eyes, and I was so distracted that I had hardly noticed her breasts at all. Now that her arms were down, I was able to concentrate on those incredible globes, which were getting the lotion treatment again, but the light went out a minute later, leaving me to wander back home.

Later, home and in bed, I got myself off twice more while picturing that beautiful woman reaching for the stars. This had to end pretty soon, because I already needed glasses, and at this rate I'd be blind in no time at all.


Chapter Three: The end?

I kept going back to Mrs. Yates and her window, and she never disappointed me. For the next two weeks I visited her, and had gotten it down to a science.

Mrs. Yates went to bed at 10 every evening, and every night the routine was the same. I had her breasts committed to memory, and could have picked them out of a titty line-up with no problem. I wondered what size bra she wore, and always hoped to see one on the clothesline, because if I had, I would have been tempted to snatch it for a souvenir.

I had quickly developed a wardrobe for my nightly sojourns, consisting of a black sweatshirt and matching sweat pants with nothing underneath. Not only did I have a stealth-like appearance, it now only took a flick of the wrist to drop the sweats down and start yanking away.

Barney didn't even take off some nights, as the evenings were starting to get chilly, but that was alright by me. The leaves were so thick that it was tough to move around without making noise, but by then I was beginning to feel immune. Almost like I was invisible and could walk right up and stare at Mrs. Yates without hiding.

It was that kind of reckless stupidity that got me caught, although I didn't realize it at the time. There was no way in the world that I could keep away from that window, and I proved that one night by standing out there in what felt like a monsoon. The wind was wicked and the rain was coming down in sheets, making the window almost impossible to see through.

That didn't much matter, as I could picture here clearly in my mind. She massaged that lotion into those beautiful globes just as always, and I blasted my load onto the ground just like always.

The night after the storm I was in my usual place, waiting for the light to come on. Everything went according to plan, and while I neared orgasm - holding off in hopes that Mrs. Yates would raise her arms, I lost sight of her.

That took a second to register in my mind. Where did she go? She had ducked out of view, and when I moved a little bit to see where she went, all of a sudden her face was at the window. Peering out with her hand shielding her eyes from the glare, and appearing to be looking right at me.

Startled, I jumped backwards, tripping over the stone border of her patio and sending me flat on my ass. Scrambling to get out of sight, I pulled up my sweat pants and disappeared into the darkness, not even caring about the crackling noises the branches and leaves were making beneath my feet as I tore through the underbrush.

"That was close," I muttered to myself as I leaned against the back of our garage and tried to catch my breath.

Bullshit. Mrs. Yates had caught me. I was busted, and I knew it. There was little chance that she hadn't seen me, but I clung to that minuscule hope as I went inside, fully expecting to hear our doorbell ring, hearing either Mrs. Yates screaming to my parents about their perverted kid, or the police coming to haul me off to jail.

So I waited under the sheet, listening for the doorbell that did not ring, and it was near dawn when I finally fell asleep.


Chapter Four: A different kind of work day.

I was in a fog at work the next day, dead tired from the night before. They had me working a cash register much of the day, and I was not my usual self, which I hoped would go unnoticed by the manager. If I ever wanted to get a promotion, I couldn't afford to be seen loafing around.

I was almost done for the day when I saw her. Mrs. Yates. In the store, pushing a cart down the aisle, and looking beautiful as ever. I had rarely seen her shopping, and certainly not sen I had started watching her through the window.

Funny how you look at someone differently after you've seen them naked, or nearly so. At least that was what my very limited experience had shown me. I had only seen one pair of breasts before Mrs. Yates had come into my life. Even now, any time I ran into Connie Durfey, I always saw those little teardrop shaped titties right through her clothes.

That was strictly minor league stuff now. Mrs. Yates was a real woman. To the casual eye, Mrs. Yates appeared to be your typical middle-aged housewife. Short, reddish brown hair and a figure that was almost entirely concealed by the drab, nondescript blouse and slacks she wore.

What would the other shoppers think if they had gotten a chance to see Mrs. Yates like I had? They would certainly look at her differently than they did now. I knew many of her secrets, and knew how incredible voluptuous she really was, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

That reddish tint in her hair. Only her hairdresser and I knew for sure that it was colored, as the dark brown fur under her arms had given her secret away there.

Those breasts. Mrs. Yates dressed so plainly that there was no way people could tell that under that boring, short sleeved, olive colored blouse were a pair of the biggest and fullest breasts imaginable.

Why didn't she show them off like most of the other women did? Lots of other women came into the store with their tits practically hanging out, trying to look sexy, and there's Mrs. Yates, hiding all those treasures from view.

I knew. It was our little secret.

The person I was supposed to be waiting on during my preoccupation with Mrs. Yates cleared his throat, which got me out of my trance, and as she disappeared down another aisle I got my head together. I was also hoping that my shift would end before she got done shopping, and if it didn't, that she would go to another register.

My shift didn't end, and she didn't pick another register. As I stood trapped behind the counter, I watched Mrs. Yates calmly walk past about a dozen cashiers and get in line at my register, even though my line was longer.

I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I looked around for the front end supervisor, hoping to be able to escape. I have to go to the bathroom. I feel sick. I quit. Anything. Brenda, the woman in charge, was nowhere in sight, and in a couple of minutes it was too late.

"Hi. How are you today?" I said to Mrs. Yates as she appeared in front of me.

It was the same thing I had already said today at least 500 times, but this time it came out sounding like I was a goose being strangled. My hands were shaking as she handed me the card customers use to get the discounts on sale stuff, and I managed to drop the card to compound my distress.

"Fine. How are you?" Mrs. Yates replied, in a voice that was quite calm and normal sounding by comparison, and at least without any hint of anger. "Jeremy."

It was on my name tag, and as I passed the groceries over the scanner; tomato soup, paper towels, ground beef - she casually asked me if I wasn't a neighbor of hers.

"Uh - yeah, I guess so," I stammered.

She was my height, I noticed as I glanced up at her. My height, sadly, was only about 5'5", and I felt even smaller than that about that time.

Despite my nerves, I still found myself looking over at her body. The blouse was so loose that you could hardly make out her tits, and it was completely buttoned up so there was no cleavage showing either. What bra was she wearing underneath that blouse? She had at least three of them that I knew of, and in my mind I was hoping it was the black one, which exposed more of that cavernous cleavage.

The sleeves of her blouse were short, exposing her pale and lightly freckled arms, which were nicely toned, and those sleeves were so floppy that if she raised her arm, I figured I could look right down her sleeve at her armpit. The very thought of seeing that thick tuft of hair close-up gave me a hard-on, and if that didn't tell me I was losing it, nothing else would.

She didn't buy anything interesting, and I was relieved when she didn't pursue the conversation while I bagged her stuff. She had a very pleasant voice, but silence was better for me right now, especially when I thought about the things she could say.

Something like, "Hey, aren't you the pervert that was looking through my bedroom window last night while you jerked off?", wouldn't go over well with management of the store, and neither would me fainting or running out the door.

"Here you go," Mrs. Yates said, handing me her check for the groceries, and as I put it through the processor for it to be filled out automatically, I saw her name.

Roxanne. Roxanne M. Yates. Roxanne. Beautiful name. Did her friends call her Roxie? Rox? I liked the whole name - Roxanne. It rolled off the tongue so fluidly.

By this time, I was getting more and more relaxed. She hadn't seen me after all. It must have been too dark out there, and by the time her eyes adjusted to the drastic difference in light, I had already tumbled out of her view.

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