Guess What I Saw?byErotickWriter©
This is my first submission, so thank you for reading! I was not too sure what category to post under, because the story covers some territory, but I hope this is OK. Enjoy! Comments encouraged.
I've never thought of myself as a dirty old man. Hell, I've never thought of myself as old! True, I'm nearly fifty, but I don't FEEL old. And I've never been especially attracted to women much younger than me. I'm still not, as a rule. But, I've learned there are exceptions to every rule. And that's what caused my problem. Maybe I should start at the beginning...
I've lived in this house, in this quiet little neighborhood, for a long time. I've seen neighbors come and go. The neighbors right next to me have been here as long as I have, though. Nice people, big family. We barbecue together, celebrate birthdays, all that stuff. They have a slew of kids, five of them, from age 6 or 8 up through about 20 years old. Yeah, they've been busy. You know, one of those religious families that takes pride in having a lot of kids. They kept trying for a son, but 4 girls came along first. Such is life.
Anyway, maybe that's too far back, BEFORE the beginning. The beginning of my problem, in any case. Yeah. My problem started last fall, give or take.
Did I mention our houses are really close together in this neighborhood? No? Well, they are. Really close, like 10 feet apart. And, by the grace of grand design and good planning, our huge living room windows face one another. Brilliant. At least they are staggered a little bit instead of being straight across. It still doesn't do much for privacy, though, let me tell you. Especially when you want a little bit of light in the room. If you're like me, and like to roam around the house in your skivvies, you have to be careful. Even worse, my wife and I like to make recreational use of the couch, too, so we moved it to the side of the room that isn't visible from their living room. I wouldn't want to offend anyone, and sure wouldn't want little kids to see anything they shouldn't. I'm fairly conscientious, and don't want to be disrespectful, you know? The only problem is, one of the kids' bedrooms is upstairs and that window still looks down onto the couch. Usually no one is up there except at the kids' bedtime, but still, there's always a chance. So we have to be extremely careful to pull the curtains or make sure they aren't home when we get frisky in the living room.
It's always worked out fine. Until last fall.
I happened to be home on a weekday. I don't remember why. Even though it was fall, it was one of those bright, sunny days, warm enough to throw back the curtains and open the windows a bit. The kids had started school. This is a working-class neighborhood, so being home on a weekday can be a pretty quiet experience, and I was enjoying some much-needed "me time.
I was sitting on the couch, reading or something, I don't exactly remember what. In my underwear, of course. I hate clothes, except for decoration and to keep me warm. Yeah, I know, I'm weird. Anyway, the warm, fresh air must have gotten to me, because I found myself growing horny. Well, goodness! What is a fella to do when his wife is at work, and he's home alone, feeling horny, you ask? That's right. Off came the underwear, and I soon had cock in hand. I was sprawled on the couch, naked as the day I was born, thrashing my poor penis like it owed me money. My eyes were closed, and I remember feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, and I'm sure I had some naughty fantasy running through my head, fueling my frantic masturbation. My nipples are really sensitive, too, so I was tweaking them while I stroked.
As I was getting fairly close to coming, I opened my eyes to half slits, heart chugging like a freight train. I wasn't really focused on anything except the electricity spreading through my loins and the visions in my head, but something caught my attention and drew me back into the present. I wasn't sure what, at first, but then I saw it. A tiny bit of movement. A hand drawing the curtains aside in the upstairs bedroom window, a furtive face glancing down. The face of the second oldest daughter, Kelly. I didn't have the lights on, so I didn't figure she could really see me since I wasn't by the window. The way her expression changed, though, and the way her eyes drilled into me – yeah, she could see me! Holy fuck. She's a senior at the high school, which is exactly where she should have been – not here, watching me!
Now, I know what you are probably thinking. You're probably thinking the sight of a pretty girl, one at the threshold of her budding sexuality, excited me so much I put on a show for her or something. That I looked lustfully into her eyes as I jerked myself to a full-scale eruption...
Fuck no! I'm not a pervert! Jeeezzzz.
No. In fact, I startled so badly when I saw her there, I thought my already-pounding heart might explode. Ashamed and embarrassed, I jumped up from the couch and ran into the bedroom and found some clothes. Holy crap. I was afraid of so many things in those next few minutes, I can't begin to elucidate. Fuck me sideways! I was picturing my whole life going down the shitter, all because I thought no one was home next door. Damn. And I was really worried about Kelly, too. I have known her since she was a little kid, and I didn't want to traumatize her. I felt awful. Just fucking awful.
I milled around the house for a while. I was trying to find something to do, anything to pass the time, but I couldn't concentrate. I had just about decided to go out for a while when the doorbell rang. Shit! My heart dropped. Maybe it was cops or something! Or worse, Kelly's dad. I checked the peephole.
But it wasn't the cops. Or her dad. It was Kelly. I thought about not opening the door, but she knew I was home. Damn. I had to man up, and apologize. I opened the door. I planned to apologize. In my head I heard myself apologizing, words flowing out in a flood. But no. I just stood there, looking stupid, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, not saying a damned thing.
"Hi, Mr. Mac." That's what everyone calls me. Mr. MacTarnahan seems too big a mouthful. Kelly smiled broadly. "Guess what I saw?"
If she was upset, she sure didn't show it. As a matter of fact, her grin was rather adult and quite conspiratorial. I sputtered, trying to string together a sentence. Finally the dam holding back my words broke.
"I'm so sorry, Kelly!! I didn't know you were home. Why aren't you at school??" Quickly realizing this sounded a bit accusatory, I plunged on. "I didn't mean for you to see anything. Really, I'm so sorry! Please don't say anything, I'll be more careful..." I think I rattled on longer, but you get the idea.
"Mr. Mac, it's OK. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm 18!"
"But, Kelly, just because you're 18..."
She cut me off. "It's OK. Besides..." She tilted her head a little to one side and smiled, "I liked it! You have a nice cock, Mr. Mac! I wish you hadn't stopped." She flashed the full force of her smile, and then sprinted back down off the porch and back into her house, ponytail bouncing with each athletic step.
Well, fuck me sideways!
OK, I bet I know what you're thinking again. You're thinking I took that as a cue to start beating off at the window every time she was home alone. Or you're thinking we started having some kind of sordid affair right there and then. But I told you, I'm not a pervert!
At least, I never intended to be.
So, what happened was this – exactly nothing, at least for a while. Life went on as normal. I started to think my unfortunate indiscretion was going to be forgotten. I saw Kelly and her family like always, just being neighborly and all. True, I sometimes felt Kelly's eyes on me, just a little too long and too intently, but I pretty much convinced myself it was my imagination. She never said a word out of line, gave me not hint that she thought any more about it.
I was really beginning to think it was all in my head, that she had let it all go, when she did something that changed my mind. We had a bit of an Indian summer, and the weather turned warm again. This must have been late September, maybe even early October, but it got up into the 70's a few days. I was out back, working in the yard, when I saw Kelly come out of her back door. She waved to me before going down the steps into the yard. We have a cedar privacy fence between the yards, so once she came down off the deck she was out of sight. I didn't think a thing of it, and just went about my chores. But a few minutes later, I saw her hand flick up and hang her shirt on the fence, followed moments later by her denim shorts. I'll be damned if she didn't hang her sports bra and little pink panties up there, too! She had to know I would see them. Holy moly.
I don't know what she was thinking. I don't know if she wanted me to spy on her through a knothole, or if she wanted me to come into her yard and seduce her, or what. I guess I'll never know. But I DO think she wanted me to know she was sunbathing nude. I mean, cripes, it wasn't even really warm or sunny enough to tan! She had to be doing this for my benefit. She wanted me to see! Otherwise, why would she make a show of hanging her clothes on the fence, right?
But I was good. I behaved. I didn't make any effort to peek or seduce. If I happened to catch a glimpse between the fence slats of her lithe form stretched out on the towel, it wasn't because I was trying to.
The next little hint I got that things weren't just in my head happened just a few days later, on a Sunday morning. I was puttering around the living room – fully clothed, mind you – when I caught sight of some movement at the neighbors' living room window. Not a big deal, by itself. With five kids and three dogs there's almost always movement at the window when anyone is home. Usually, though, the whole clan goes to church on Sundays, and I didn't hear the dogs, so it seemed kind of strange. I did a double take, certain I caught sight of someone moving this time. Sure enough, Kelly came right up to the window, completely nude! And there was no mistake – she knew I was there. She waved at me! She stretched her arms wide, completely unhurried, and took hold of the open curtains, smiling at me the whole time. She lingered with her hands clutching the fabric, and maybe it's because I know the family is religious, but in a flash I thought of the crucifixion, of sacrifice and offerings. She was so close I could see the puckered skin around her pink nipples, inches from the glass, and I knew they were hard. I took in her neat little bush of reddish-brown pubic hair. I didn't mean to stare, but I was so taken aback it never occurred to me to look away.
She drew the curtains closed.
"What are you looking at, dear?"
I nearly shit myself at my wife's innocent question.
"Uh, nothing!" I stammered, way too quickly. Fuck. I even sounded guilty to ME. Of course, Monica's radar is infallible, and she picked up on my guilt right away. Never mind that I hadn't really done anything wrong. She cut me a "What the hell are you up to?" look that made my nuts want to crawl back up inside. I mumbled something about thinking I saw movement at the neighbor's house, which was true. I also said I hadn't seen anything, which was patently UN-true.
She didn't believe me for a second, but I didn't budge. I suppose, looking back, that if I had just told her what was going on right then, things would have been fine. I have no idea why I didn't. Well, shit – I have to call bullshit on myself, there. Who am I kidding? I know exactly why I didn't say anything. I felt horribly guilty because I really liked what I saw. And I didn't want it to stop. There, I said it. Are you happy?
Well, that little snafu seemed to blow over, and everything was copacetic with the wife again. The winter was pretty uneventful. Sure, Kelly snuck a little wave at me now and then, when she thought no one else was looking, but that was it. Things stayed nice and calm for a few months. But it sure didn't last.
One Spring Saturday morning, my wife answered a knock at the door. It was Kelly, asking if she could wash our cars to raise some money. I guess she had a trip coming up and needed extra cash. My wife told her we'd love to help, but she was leaving in about 15 minutes to teach a pottery class. They talked for a while, and I guess they decided Kelly could wash Monica's car first, and then she could wash mine after Monica left. I was only halfway paying attention. To be honest I was avoiding being around Kelly and my wife at the same time. I had this awful fear Monica would somehow tell there was something going on. Even though there wasn't! Like I said, she has radar. Anyway, they figured it all out, and before Monica left, she handed me some bills and told me to pay Kelly when she was finished.
I was working on editing some pictures and lost track of time when I heard the door open a bit and Kelly called "Mr. Mac, I'm finished!"
"Come on in, Kelly!" I called back. I was in the living room, right down the hallway.
I heard her close the door and pad down the hallway, and looked up as she rounded the corner.
"Jesus Christ, Kelly!" That's all I could get out, partly because I was embarrassed that I had said "Jesus Christ" to a kid from a religious family, and partly because I was shocked by her appearance.
She was dressed in a crop-topped white tee shirt and yellow cotton soccer shorts. That was odd enough, because around her family Kelly dresses very conservatively. But the thing that blew my mind was, she was soaked to the skin from head to foot, and her clothes might well have been painted on in translucent paint. She was cold, too, and every inch of her skin was dimpled with goosebumps. Her tiny, hard nipples struggled at the clinging material of her tee. I could see the color of her small aureolas through her shirt, and (bless me, I tried not to look!) the shorts showed a perfect outline of her labia. She obviously didn't have any underwear on.
Time seemed to stand still while I tried to figure out what to say, how to get her out of my living room. I must have stood there gaping for quite some time, because Kelly spoke before I could.
"You OK? Something wrong, Mr. Mac?" She had a hint a mischievous smile that told me she knew exactly what was wrong.
"Kelly, what would your parents say? You, you're practically... you shouldn't... Aren't you COLD?"
Very articulate, right? What was I supposed to say? You look like you're naked?
Kelly laughed at me, at my stupid stammering. "Yeah, I'm a little cold."
She passed her hands over her belly and across her breasts. The movement seemed unconscious, not just for show. But I could see she liked the feel of her perky nipples.
"But, your parents... they won't like you wearing that." I motioned clumsily at her skimpy outfit. "What are they going to say when you go back home?"
"Don't worry. They went to visit Sammy in Nevada for the weekend." The oldest sister, Samantha, goes to UNLV. "I'm home all by myself."
Her look told me I was in serious trouble if I didn't get her out of there, and SOON. She chewed on her lower lip in a way that just about drove me crazy.
"You'd better get into some dry clothes, Kelly."
"Are you sure I couldn't warm up here?" she purred.
"Uh, no, that's not such a good idea."
She didn't seem upset. Instead, she seemed tickled. "If you say so, Mr. Mac."
I handed her the cash Monica had left, and steered her toward the door with a hand on her shoulder. I could feel her shivering a little bit under my touch. I walked just behind her, and I noticed her shorts clung to her round, smooth ass-cheeks, and when she walked it made the most mesmerizing bubble pattern where the wet fabric stretched across the crack of her behind. I cursed myself for looking, but I couldn't seem to help it.
"And don't stay outside long," I added. I was already worried someone would see her leaving looking like this. "In those wet clothes you can see your whole body!"
Kelly gave me a look I couldn't read at first.
"Don't you like my body?" she asked, and this time there was no coquettish teen about her. Instead of teasing me, she seemed truly uncertain about whether I would like her shape.
"Oh Kelly, you know..." My voice trailed off. I started to tell her exactly what I thought, that she was beautiful and was driving me crazy, but I stopped myself. Instead, I finished, "You know your dad and mom would be pissed."
Her eyes got wide, but a little of her confidence returned, and she smiled again. She knew what I was thinking and feeling, even if I hadn't said it. She could also probably see my hard-on, despite my best efforts to casually hide it.
"You're not gonna tell my dad you've seen me naked, are you?" she asked, all sweetness and innocence again. Good god, she was playing me like a cheap fiddle. But I didn't hate it.
"No, you know I'm not gonna tell your dad!" I laughed, kinda nervous but kind of relieved that she wasn't upset, too. "Now you should get home."
She smiled, and turned to go, and it was all I could do not to reach out and pat her ass to send her on her way.
"Oh, and Kelly?"
"Yes, Mr. Mac?" She turned backed expectantly.
"Thank you." Big pause. Way too big a pause, while we looked at each other appraisingly. "Um, you know, for, um, washing the cars. See you later."
Laughing, she said "Yeah. You're welcome. And if you pay attention, you might see me sooner, rather than later." She quickly turned and sprinted lightly up to her doorstep.
I went back into the house, totally hot and bothered. What did she mean by that? I got myself a cup of coffee and tried to work on pictures again, but I couldn't concentrate. I was tormented by the situation. I had no idea why Kelly had focused on me. She had always been my favorite of the neighbor's kids, it's true, but I had never thought of her in a sexual way. I hoped I had never sent her any inappropriate signals. Now, I was so worked up I don't know how I could help but send signals. I remember her when she was a little five year old kid. She was always the sweetest of the siblings, but full of spirit and independence, too. She didn't always get along with her parents because of that independent streak, but she was never a bad kid. I was having a whole lot of trouble reconciling the image of the little girl I once knew to the lovely creature that has been torturing my poor, perverted, damned soul.
Fuck me. No no, DON'T fuck me! Oh lord, am I in trouble.
While I was sitting there, feeling miserable for contributing to the corruption of a minor – no, wait, that isn't really right, she's not a minor – I was amazed to realize I was still turned on by the image of Kelly in those clinging, revealing, wet clothes. My cock was still a bit hard, and I had a dull ache in my balls. Her words keep coming back to me. "You might see me sooner." Like a siren's song, the window beckoned. Taking my cup, I went to take a look, and sure enough, she was there.
She must have known, even before I knew, that I would be drawn to the window. She was watching for me, and as soon as I came within sight, she began what she had been waiting for. She smiled at me, and then began to undress. It wasn't really a striptease. It was just the slow and deliberate movement of someone who knows they are being watched. Knows, and likes it.
Totally nude, totally unashamed, she sat in the chair she had pulled up. She put one foot up on the low sill, and began to move her hands over her body – up the length of her legs, and then, with fingertips spread, up the smooth lines of her belly and over her breasts.
I knew I should go, just turn and walk away. Shut the curtains. Anything. But I just couldn't. I stood, and I watched.