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Peeping John

By: standingstones



I was still living at home while attending a local school nearby. I wanted to live on campus but my parents said they couldn't afford it. For now I would have to tough it out. I tried to set up many of my classes for morning. My parents had already left for work and I was able to have the run of the house. I would end up showering and then I would walk into my bedroom.

I took to opening the one shade on my window and drying off as the sun was rising in the morning. I would towel off and then run my fingers across my nipples. That always felt good first thing in the morning. I figured no one could see me at the window. I was wrong. As I was touching myself I looked at the neighbor's house next door. There stood the owner, John, looking straight at me.

John was a widower in his early sixties. I should have stopped what I was doing and lowered the blinds. Instead I pretended like I didn't know he was there. I moved my hands all over my breasts and then I ran my fingers across my pussy. I didn't let on that I knew John was watching me. This went on for some days. John knew what time to watch for me and I put on my show for him. One morning it was me that got a surprise.

I opened the blinds and started to feel myself up. I looked over at John's house. There he stood in front of his window, naked. He had his cock in his one hand and was stroking himself. I tried hard not to let on that I was watching him. We were both trying to let the other person see what was going on. I admit that seeing John's cock was turning me on. It looked so big even from my bedroom window. I managed to push a finger up inside my pussy that morning. I normally just touched myself a bit.

I am sure John got a good view of me. I worked my one finger deep into my hole. My body was starting to shake as I brought myself off there at the window. When I looked over to John's house, he had left the window. I was a bit let down. Did he leave to stroke himself off or what exactly. A couple of days later things changed. I was coming back from classes when I saw John out in his backyard.

I waved to him and he waved back. He walked over to where I was and spoke to me.

"You like to get up bright and early, I see."

"Did you like what you saw," I asked him.

"I think you know that I did," he told me.

All I was thinking about was wanting to see John's cock, up close and personal. My parents weren't due to get home for some hours yet. I asked John if he would like to come over for some coffee. He smiled and said he would love that. I have to tell you that John may be in his early sixties but he looks ten years younger. He seems to keep himself in good shape as well. We stepped into my house. We never got to sample the coffee.

John didn't waste any time. He took me in his arms and we kissed. I was getting shivers up and down my body. John's hands went immediately to my chest. He was rubbing my tits through the material of my shirt. It only took a few moments before John was pulling my shirt off and unsnapping my bra. I have average size breasts but my nipples were so hard right then. He worked my pants down to the floor and off came my panties. Then it was John's turn.

He stripped down in no time and I got to see his thick cock up close. It was even bigger than I imagined. He didn't have to urge me to do a thing. I knelt down and took hold of his cock in my hand. I brought it up to my lips and I took him down my throat. I have to say I was gagging on his rod. One hand was on his balls and the other was at the base of his dick. I can't recall wanting a cock like that before. Sucking on an older man just got me going.

I soon made John rock hard. He had me pull away and he lifted me up. The couch was close by and he moved me close to it. I got onto my back and John slid in between my thighs. I was looking down as John's cock was aimed directly at my opening. I felt the head of his cock and then he started to slide into me. I think I might have let out a scream at first. I had never felt anything so big before. His dick was stretching me wide. Once he finally pushed all the way in, the fucking began.

John took me hard and deep. This was no fancy lovemaking. His balls were slapping hard against my ass. Once he was inside me John began to circle his cock around and around. I got so wet as he fed me his thick member. I knew right from then I was going to let John doing anything he wanted to me. I took a good pounding that morning. My pussy felt like it was on fire from John feeding me his hard bone.

"I want you to cum in me John, please!" I said to him.

He looked down at my face. I think he was wondering if he should deposit his load inside me. I normally don't let men cum in my pussy. This morning everything changed. I needed to feel John's seed in me. He fucked me for a little while longer. I somehow managed to hold off on my orgasm. John arched his back and grunted. He flooded my pussy with all his manseed. I used my muscles to try and get every hot drop of his semen from his thick cock. 

John didn't let up. He kept driving his monster deep inside me. I screamed out loud repeatedly as I felt his milky load hit my pussy walls. We did finally end our hot sex making together. I was having a hard time trying to catch my breath. Sweat from John's body was hitting my chest. John finally pulled out and I somehow managed to get to my feet. I got some damp paper towels and we got cleaned up. 

"I hope you want to try that again," he said to me.

I couldn't admit it to John right then but I knew I was going to need to be fucked over and over by him. That is what happened. I would still let him see me naked at my window. When I got back from classes, we would have torrid sex together. I would go to his house and he would take me in every position I could think of. Often John would lead me to the bathtub and he would fuck me there. The water from the shower would be pouring over our bodies and I would take John's cock.

I would bend at the waist with John standing behind me. He would thrust his prick deep into my pussy. John drove his cock inside me so deep, he would raise me up onto my toes. I never made John wear any protection. I had to feel his hot cream in my pussy. I don't know how this will all play out. I can hardly move into John's house and become his mistress. We have talked about moving away so I wouldn't be right next to my parents.

Time will tell as to how John and I work things out. Until then I plan on having John's cock buried inside me as often as I can.

Peeping Jonathon



Jonathon couldn’t see her face, only the slim, sexy legs dangling on the side of the sofa. He peered through his apartment window, squinting and cursing at himself for not buying the binoculars that were on sale last week. Her skirt rode high on her thigh, a mini-skirt that reminded him of the schoolgirl fantasy he’s had for decades. Her stockings were opaque; they resembled the look of argyle socks that were knitted with extra length. He admitted it didn’t sound too sexy, but as far as he was concerned, they required garter belts. That’s all he needed to know; if something required garters, it was sexy. As much as he tried, he couldn’t see if she wore any panties. Everything about her made his dick hard. 

Her living room was always tidy, perfectly arranged, not even a pillow out of place. She had a lawyer’s bookcase next to the leather sofa and he wondered if that was her profession. No matter, he was still hard even if she was a lawyer. In fact, he didn’t know anything about her except that she loved to lounge in stockings and short skirts, sometimes with a bra, sometimes without. Every night around seven the lights in her apartment come on and he hides behind the blinds, in his dark bedroom, oil and dick in hand. 

He knew she had long black hair because, on occasion, she would move into partial view as if to tease him with the possibility of seeing the face to go along with the luscious body. Every now and then, she would stand up and walk into another room, but never into full view. Her face was still a mystery. Again, he cursed at the fact that her shutters weren’t completely open. At least he could enjoy the view - however limited - of her lying on her side, feet over the armrest and her delicate arms caressing her knees and thighs. 

Many times Jonathon entertained the possibility that she, just once, might please herself. It was an irritating mystery as to why she never did. Months of hope without the slightest satisfaction! He never saw any men in her apartment. For an instant he questioned if she were a lesbian, then smiled. Jonathon often wondered if she just used her sexy lounging as foreplay before scurrying off to bed and masturbating there. With his luck, she would touch herself in the one room he had no visual access to. Nevertheless, his mind traveled to the secrets her skirt hid, and he jacked off as many times as his body would allow. 

Every night she was home, Jonathon peeked through his blinds. Week after week his curiosity grew: he wondered who this woman was, what she did for a living, what she was like in person and in bed. Several times he tried to dash out his door, down the stairs and across the street in hopes of bumping into her. However, each time he did, he only found himself in a sweat. Disappointed and exhausted, he would bump into the old bag lady by the door asking for money to buy her next bottle of booze. Damn those stairs! He tried the elevator once, thinking it was faster, but it seemed every tenant was going out. As the elevator stopped on every floor, he anxiously and cordially smiled at the people who had no idea he was in such a rush. 

When he rented the upscale apartment on the ninth floor it was for the view from his living room. It looked out onto a serene pond – man-made, of course – that calmed him down after a hard day’s work. He never expected to find the treasure his bedroom window offered: a beautiful woman who would tease him to orgasm each night as he played peeping tom. 

Jonathon was obsessed. He turned down invitations to “happy hour” with friends – little did they know he had several happy hours at home – and avoided the idea of dating. When he walked down the street, every woman he looked at was one with long black hair. Sometimes he would go for a walk around the time she was expected home, hoping to catch a glimpse, or better yet, bumping into her. His timing sucked. 

The last time he tried, he stood out in the rain like an idiot – if only he had a dog as a reasonable excuse to be out in the rain with no umbrella. He made a mental note: buy binoculars, on sale or not, and buy a dog. Jonathon wondered if he was on the verge of being a stalker; she became his obsession. He felt the need to jack off just thinking about her. Sometimes at work, he would walk into the men’s room and play with himself, thinking about the strange, yet sexy argyle stockings he would love to feel and the mini-skirt he would love to peek into, if just to satisfy his curiosity of whether or not she wore panties. Then his mind raced to the kind she wore. He imagined she were the type that didn’t wear any so she could be accessible at any moment. He could please her, he thought. 

One weekend, the lights were off in her apartment from Friday to Sunday. He tried masturbating to his vast collection of porn but he couldn’t get his dick up. Frustrated, he drove to the red light district in downtown Frankfurt. Of course, it rained. The streets were busy that night; there must have been a convention that weekend since chic businessmen crowded the peep shows and titi bars. Jonathon decided to walk into a brothel. He hadn’t been in one since he moved into the apartment. One hundred and fifty euro later, he had blue balls. It was the longest weekend of his life. 

Walking home that evening Jonathon bumped into the bag lady that smelled of rotten feet and alcohol. Once again, she opened her hand and asked for change. Jonathon couldn’t stand her and wondered why someone didn’t do something about getting her into a shelter or finding her a new building to beg in front of. He paid too much money every month for her to be his welcome home audience. As he walked away from her, he stopped and felt a bill in his pocket. 

He turned around and gave her the twenty euro with a condition. Later that week, he bought several disposable point and shoot cameras and told her another twenty euro would come if she photographed every person who entered the building across the street. Surely even an old drunk could take a picture. One of them had to contain an image of the woman he could not stop thinking about.

When Jonathon entered the photo lab he was excited by the possibilities. After three days worth of photographs, he felt hopeful that she was somewhere on the film. He did not notice the woman behind the counter because he focused on the prints in front of him. Instead, he paid quickly and dashed toward the exit.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. Annoyed, Jonathon turned. “I’m the owner of this lab. I developed your film and… “ Jonathon froze; her hair was midnight black and her face, delicate and pale like that of a porcelain doll. He looked into her eyes. They were sea green and reminded him of the Bahamas, mysterious, clear and alluring. 

“Yes…” he answered.

“I’m curious as to why all eight rolls of film happen to be photographs of the entrance way into my building. Is that a coincidence?”

Jonathon smiled. His heart raced. “No, actually it’s not,” he replied.

She gave him an inquisitive look. Jonathon wasn’t sure if he answered correctly, but he had found her, the mystery woman whose long legs and sexy lounging introduced him to a new level of sexual excitement. 

“I’m working on a project, actually,” he said. “I’d love to tell you about it…over coffee perhaps? You might be able to help me in fact.”

“Really?” she answered. She stood there for a moment -it seemed like eternity - then walked around the counter towards him. Yes, this was she, he thought, recognizing the mini-skirt. Jonathon waited for a reply, nervous, numb and undoubtedly hard. 

When he looked at her, he could not stop thinking about her panties. His palms began to sweat. “My name is Jonathon,” he said as he walked over to her - discreetly wiping his wet palm on his pants - arm extended to shake her hand, trying to be polite, but yearning to experience the feel of her skin. “My name is Paulina. Pleasure to meet you,” she said with a smile. “No, the pleasure is all mine,” he replied.     

The End