Second Sight


Olivia ached as she undressed for bed. She was newly widowed. Her husband had died unexpectedly after a sudden illness and left her alone. He doctor had given her test results that morning. She was at the end of her first trimester. The unborn child was the ghost of her beloved's desire and passion. She stood in front of a beveled mirror and inspected her body for subtle changes.

She was just beginning to show. Her lower abdomen bulged slightly. Her morning sickness was almost gone. Her breasts were beginning to swell. She thought she felt a flutter when she woke from a nap earlier in the day. She spread her legs and thrust her pelvis forward slightly to inspect her genitalia. Her husband had nicknamed it her crimson lily She blinked away the tears as she remembered his voice--and his touch.

She trailed her fingers from the hollow of her throat, traced around the aerola of her nipples and continued down to the silky auburn hair on her mons. She spread her labia apart with her left hand and began to pleasure her clitoris. She took it between her thumb and index finger and massaged it. It thickened and grew erect. Her labia engorged with blood. She watched herself in the mirror. It was a warm summer night. Her bedroom window was open and the sheer lace curtains rustled in the draught. She was so intent on the exploration of her body that she missed the silhouette of a man's profile just outside the open window.

It wasn't the first time that he had found his pleasure as she found hers. Before her husband's death, he'd watched with binoculars from his apartment in the next building. He'd caught snippets of their play with his digital camera and played them over and over for his own guilty delight. Every time he caught a glimpse of that flame between her legs his cock swelled and he was forced to masturbate. Often, he got so excited that he couldn't finish it off. He'd lie frustrated and erect for hours, thinking of all the ways he could enjoy her sex.

He read about her husband's death in the local paper and felt a twisted sense of optimism. He was glad the bastard had died. He didn't deserve her beauty or her orgasms. Now that she was alone, he grew bolder. He crept up the fire escape when she went out for her evening walks and waited for her to return. Her knew her routine by heart. She'd become a slave to her day-to-day since her husband's death.

He'd waited patiently this night. He could see her reflection without moving from his perch on the railing. He wore sweat pants so that he could reach inside them and grasp his cock without actually exposing himself. He bit his lip as she fondled herself. It was almost too much to bear when she dipped her fingers inside her vagina and tasted her own juices. She opened her dresser drawer and took out a gel vibrator with a clitoral stimulator and turned it on.

She took it in her mouth and fellated it. He'd seen her do this for her husband many times. She'd moisten it to make it easier to insert. It was large, so she worked it slowly. He choked back a groan and reached for his cock with both hands. He cupped his balls with one hand and stroked himself with the other. He pulled his foreskin back and pinched the glans. He enjoyed the pain and it kept him from coming too quickly.

She took the vibrator and teased herself with it, starting with her nipples and working slowly toward her snatch. He loved all the dirty words for sex. He loved the sound of them, the nastiness of the taboo of saying them. Her pussy, that was his favorite. He wanted to pet her and make it purr. He almost giggled.

She was doing it now. She was watching herself in the mirror and she moved it in and out. She whispered her dead husband's name and worked the electric prick with both hands. He could make her feel so much better than a piece of plastic. He loved watching her come. Her mouth relaxed, her nipples hardened and her clit swelled until it was nearly as large as the tip of his little finger. He love to suck on it like a piece of cinnamon candy. Hot, sweet and hard! Her juices clung to her auburn trim and shimmered like dew. He squirmed against the railing and accidentally knocked a small potted plant. She was so excited that she didn't hear it. He listened to the soft sucking sound that it made as she worked it. As she fucked herself! He giggled again. She looked up. She saw a shadow on the curtains and froze.

"Who is it?"

It was the moment that he'd imagined for nearly a year. She'd finally noticed him and spoken to him. He was frightened and excited at once. She was vulnerable, flushed with excitement.

"Let me help you, Olivia."

She dropped the vibrator and turned toward the window. He couldn't stop touching himself. He wanted her to know how hard she'd made him. He wanted to show her.

"Go away! I'll call 911."

"Don't say that, Olivia. I love watching you come."

"What? How long have you been watching me?"


He had a quiet voice. He didn't want to alarm her.

"You look so beautiful when you come."

She stared at the shadow in disbelief.

"Come out where I can see you or I will call the police."

He stepped into the pool of light outside her window. He was a giant with tawny hair and a close-cropped beard. He'd pulled his hands out of his boxers. His erection bulged against his sweat pants. She stared at him, repulsed and attracted at once. He'd caught her in a moment of personal passion. The vibrator hummed at her feet. He stepped through the window and blocked it.

"Did you enjoy spying on me?"

He stammered and covered his hard-on with his thick hard hands.

"Tell me. I've lost everything and now you've stolen my privacy too. You want to fuck me, don't you? Or do you just want to play with yourself and peek?"

Something snapped in him. His stolen moments were sacred to him. His Venus had scorned his secret pleasure. He saw red. He stalked toward her, his head lowered. She stood her ground.

"Kill me! I'm already dead anyway."

He kept coming. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. She beat against his chest and spat at face. He set her down on the bed and pushed her flat. He wiped her spittle from his face.

"You want me. You could have called the police or screamed."

He pulled off his tee-shirt. He was built like a bear. He had thick blond chest hair. He towered over her. He waited for her to tell him to stop. Being this close to her made him rock hard. He pushed her legs apart with his knees. She was soaking wet. He could smell her--it was a clean ocean scent of pussy aroused. He inhaled through his nose and savored it like expensive perfume. He pushed his sweat pants around his ankles and stood over her. He stroked his cock slowly.

"Tell me you don't want this. I can smell how much you want it. You're dripping."

He grabbed her by the neck like a kitten and dragged her around. He got on top of her and rubbed his torso against her. She dragged her nails across his cheek and drew blood. He rested on one elbow and grabbed her hand. He made her touch his cock. It jumped in her hand. He held her by the wrist and forced her to stroke it for him. Her fingers barely reached around its girth.

"This is real. That piece of plastic doesn't have a pulse. It can't throb inside you."

She wrestled her hand free and slapped his balls. He yelped and forced her legs wide. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head. He grabbed her chin and made her look at him.

"You want me to be rough, don't you? You pretend that you don't want it, so you can stay in the grave with him. I know what you need. I'm going to fuck you alive."

He kissed her mouth. He forced his tongue inside so that he could taste her. She struggled at first. He felt her breasts pushing against his chest. Her hair smelled like lavender. The tip of his cock brushed against her thigh. She pulled her legs together. He forced it between them, pushing his foreskin back. He put his lips to her ear.

"My name is Alex. I want to hear you moan it when you come."

He pinned her arms down and used one of his feet to open her legs. He pushed against her vagina until he found entrance and took her with a single thrust. She was tight, almost painfully so. He rode her with long slow strokes to open her up. She dug her nails into his back. He winced, but enjoyed the pain. She sank her teeth into his neck. She was open enough to take all of him in. He stroked her faster. She called out his name. His pubic hairs were soaked with her juices. His balls were sticky from slapping against her. She arched and squirmed. She howled like a wild cat when she climaxed. He slid his hands under her thighs and pulled her up. He buried himself in her as he came and collapsed on top of her. He stayed inside her for several minutes before he rolled off and sat up on the edge of the bed. She turned away from him and closed her eyes.

"Get out! You made me betray him."

He dressed quickly and started for the door.

"No! You snuck in, you can sneak out."

He climbed out the window. He looked over his shoulder at her. She slipped her fingers inside her pussy and was licking his semen off them. He smiled to himself and climbed down the fire escape to the alley. He was free of her now. He could pick another window the next time.

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