tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Woman at the Window

The Woman at the Window


I staggered through the streets as I tried to keep an even pace. Another early evening run that was no easier than the first ten. No one paid attention to me, just another man trying to hold back the ravages of time with some exercise.

I had pretty much decided that the effort was not worth the trouble until that fateful day I saw her at the window. A woman talking on the phone brought my already slow pace to standstill. I stared at her like a puppy in kennel looks at a boy.

She turned and saw me. I blushed at being discovered while staring and pretended to stretch a painful limb. I became concerned because she looked at me long enough to be able to describe me to police if she so chose.

Trying not to panic I apparently did the right thing. I smiled at her and shook my head in seeming disgust at the idiocy of jogging in the night and ran off at a leisurely pace.

I actually ran the last two blocks to my home. After a quick shower I grabbed a beer and sat to watch TV. Concentrating on the shows was impossible. I could not get the woman at the window out of my mind. I realized that I had not even noticed if she was beautiful, cute, or plain. Yet all I needed to do was close my eyes and I could see her clearly.

The next evening brought something new to me, an eagerness to hit the streets. I told myself that I had just gone over the hump and that my exercise was paying off. Deep in my brain I knew that I just wanted to catch another glimpse of her.

I slowed as I approached the window. She was not there. I slowed to a walk. I moved as slowly as possible without faking an injury. I thought I glimpsed movement at the window but a quick glance showed it to be empty. Disappointed by her absence I walked the rest of the way home.

The next day my will power was tested as I forced myself to get ready for the run. I decided I hated running. Yet somehow all the health and conditioning arguments won out. They were aided, perhaps, by the faint hope that I would see her again.

By the time I approached her walk the fact that I had never run three days in a row had become painfully evident. I was dragging, hands on hips, out of breath, feet and back in pain.

This evening I was not sure I wanted her by the window. I was not in the most flattering condition. She was there of course.

When she saw me she gave me a small smile and a shake of the head as if to say, “you are nuts”. She left the window before I could nod in agreement.

My body was telling me she was right. But my heart had a second picture of her and knew I would continue. Her smile could light up the sky. She was beautiful.

Running past her window became the highlight of my day. I ran everyday. She was accomplishing more than any amount of will power or trainer could have. I began to make physical progress. Running became easier.

I had done some snooping and found out that her name was Debby. She was a teacher and much to my delight, single.

I would see her at the window only two or three times a week. Sometimes she would appear to take notice of my passing but most of the time she would not.

My heart was telling me she knew when I was there. My mind disagreed.

About the fourth week of my regimen I found I had to leave my home a bit later at night. Work had piled up and my daydreams of her did not help get it done. This was serendipity. At this later hour Debby was often standing by the window talking on the phone.

It was a Sunday night when my world changed. I saw her as I approached and was elated as usual to see her. As I got closer I saw that she was wearing only a towel. Debby had apparently answered a call while in the shower. I came to a screeching halt and stared, not believing my luck. I searched and found deep shadows that afforded a complete view through the window. My heart was beating so loudly I thought she would hear it .

She was talking animatedly with someone, probably a boyfriend. The window was partially open and I could could hear her voice. My mind was racing and could not pick up on much of what she was saying, it was simply enjoying the sound of her voice.

Debby had her back to the window when I made my approach and found the shadows. She was now standing in profile to me. I could see her down to her knees.

I saw the telephone cord brush against the towel covering her breasts once, twice, until the breast was exposed. I had to force myself to breathe.

Slowly the towel slid off her body. The sight of her magnificent breasts buried itself into my brain. I found myself with my hand grasping my manhood through my shorts, every pore of my body aroused.

Her body was the definition of a woman to me. It was soft and curvy with a pale skin that seemed to shine with its own light. Her nipples were taut and became deep red as I watched. Her pubic hair glowed with its own aura.

I became mesmerized as a watched her free hand move to a breast and caress it. A moan startled me and I was momentarily confused. Did it come from Debby or from me?

Her hand slid down her body to the inside of her thighs and caressed them gently. She was bringing her hand closer and closer to her love mound. Debby allowed a deep sigh to escape as her hand reached the core of our universe. A slight turn in her body brought sight of her glorious pussy to me. I saw one, then two fingers disappear.

I was in a frenzy. I scanned the streets and windows to make sure neither of us was being observed. Convinced that this was a private affair I reached under my loose shorts and brought my very rigid member out of its confinement.

She began to masturbate in earnest and I followed. I increased my pace when she did, slowed when she did. I wanted to time my release with hers. I almost lost complete control when Debby brought the hand coated with her sex juices to her lips and tasted her own essence.

Soon after she resumed masturbating her moans increased in volume and frequency. So did mine. We careened towards our orgasms. Her climax was near.

I ejaculated as she arched her back, her mouth open in silent scream. Her body trembled and I heard her gasping for air.

My release was one for the ages, depositing large puddles of my cum on her walk. Her orgasm appeared to last forever. So did mine. It took several moments before we composed ourselves.

Debby hung up the phone, a far away look in her eyes. She never glanced out the window as she stepped away from view.

I became concerned that someone may notice my presence in the shadows. I was still holding my rapidly diminishing dick. Tucking myself back to decency I forced myself to walk home on wobbly knees.

As I reached home strange thoughts jumped into my head. I wondered what she would think if she saw the silvery white puddles on the walk outside her window.

Would she recognize them for what they were? Would she guess that she was their inspiration? Would she guess it was me?

I could not sleep that night. I masturbated twice more while replaying the most erotic experience of my life in my head.

Eventually I got out of bed, got dressed, and drove to an all hours market. It was three in the morning. I bought a dozen red roses and placed them by her front door. I left no name, no note.

I looked to see if the evidence of my passion was still visible on the ground. I pretty much expected it would have dried up and vanished by now. Instead, the evenings humidity had added volume and an eerie glow to my cum on the walk. It was clearly visible in the moonlight.

I thought that if she truly had no idea I was watching she would never guess who the roses were from. She might even assume they were from the boyfriend with whom she was speaking on the phone.

I had an irrational whisper of hope, however, that she would guess the truth.

The week went by and I never saw Debby by the window. The lights in the room were always off. At first I thought she may be on a trip, but that was unlikely since it was normal school week. I also saw that there were lights shining elsewhere in her home. She was there.

Had Debby guessed that she was been seen pleasuring herself by the window? Was she afraid of encouraging a voyeur? A pervert?

I came to regret my rash decision to leave the roses. By the end of the week approaching her darkened window would fill me with great sadness.

It was again Sunday night. The streets were deserted as usual. As I turned the corner that led to the window I saw that again the light was off. Depression was overtaking me when I suddenly saw the light come on.

Debby was by the window watching my approach.

My emotions piled into my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. My pace slowed to a crawl.

She was wearing only a towel. A vase with a dozen somewhat wilted red roses was sitting on the windowsill.

Every hair on my body stood upright.

Our eyes locked. I came to a standstill directly in front of her, captured by her gaze. She slowly allowed the towel to slip off her body, never taking her eyes off mine.

I froze in place, mouth agape. I was so stricken by her naked beauty that no coherent thought could enter into my head.

I at last noticed that Debby had moved her gaze away from me. She was now looking expectantly to my left.

I followed her eyes and my heart almost burst with emotion.

Her door was open.

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