12 comments/ 84586 views/ 27 favorites Rear Window By: Charles Petersunn This story concerns primarily voyeurism and exhibitionism, the section in which it was placed. However, there is also a quality of first time. It was based in part on personal experience, as well as fantasy. Both characters in this story, Leon and Patricia, are at least eighteen years old. I hope you enjoy their story! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Leon B. Jeffries planned to someday be a professional photographer. Ever since he was a little boy he enjoyed taking photographs, and by the time he was sixteen he had even won a couple of awards, as well as having a few pictures published. They weren't published in any professional magazine or journal, just the local newspaper, the Bayview Star. But, still, his parents were very proud of him. For his eighteenth birthday they awarded him an EOS 7D SLR digital camera, with an array of extra lenses. He had special lenses with which to obtain close-ups of flowers and insects, and telephoto lenses to capture from great distances the images of rare birds and wary beasts. The EOS 7D included an 18.0 megapixel APS-C size CMOS sensor and dual DIGIC 4 image processors. It could capture images up to ISO 12800 and speeds up to 8 fps. Leon was ecstatic. He immediately left the house with his prize to scour the neighborhood for exotic bugs, flowers, and birds, his favorite subjects. He really enjoyed nature pictures. Of course, there really wasn't that much to shoot within the immediate confines of his parents' home within the Bayview suburb. But, that did not by any means dampen Leon's enthusiasm. The camera was still in his hand as he prepared for bed. He couldn't put it down. He kept looking around his room for something else to capture, to commit to permanent imagery for all time to come. But, naturally, there was even less within his room than within his neighborhood. Close-ups of his underwear or a half-drunk glass of cola were unlikely to win him any awards. Then he saw it, against his window, a very large, lime-green Luna moth. She had landed right on the pane, gripping the smooth slick glass, its stunning, colorful wings softly slowly waving in the dark light of the night. Leon carefully aimed his lens at the stunning insect, getting close-ups of its eyespots, its feathery antenna, and its long twisting tail. Its full 5-inch wingspan, silhouetted against the blackness of the evening sky, was really quite striking. But, almost as quickly as it had arrived, it flew away, leaving only the shadowy darkness behind. Leon though quickly uploaded the images into his computer to study more closely what he had captured. He was pleased, albeit not impressed. The window pane was a bit dirty and smeared. Plus, the background was not as dark as he would have liked. There was in fact a distant blurry bright image just to the left of the moth. He played with the picture for quite a while, isolating the bright spot on the screen, blowing it up, and then using various filters and processors to further distill, clarify, and sharpen the focus. After considerable time and effort, along with an equally impressive degree of skill, Leon was eventually pleased with the outcome. The image was of the bedroom window across the backyards of both his parents' and his neighbors' homes. Within the window could be seen the silhouette of the head and shoulders of a girl, apparently peering out into the night sky. Leon felt she complemented the moth rather nicely, although he really couldn't explain why. He looked out his window. The moth was, of course, still gone, and so was the light across the two backyards. The next night he found himself sitting by the window, waiting, purportedly for the moth to return. The moth though never arrived, not surprisingly. But, Leon did eventually see the light go on in the bedroom. His heart lit up as well and he reached for his camera. He aimed his telephoto lens across the space of the two backyards, into the light of the bedroom window. He couldn't see much of the room. He could though clearly see a chair. It was apparently just a couple of feet from the window. It sat before a dresser that was to his right. In the background was the bedroom door, which was closed. It really wasn't that interesting, but somehow it captivated his attention. He shifted the camera to the left. There was a second window, but its curtains were closed. He went back to the open window and studied the chair for a while, but there was really nothing to see. It was just a standard wooden straight back chair. He watched for some time, but nothing was happening. Still, he did have to smile. He was actually peeking into someone's window. There was something quite exciting, even a little pleasing, about that. He snapped a picture, albeit wondering what the heck he would actually do with it. He scanned with his camera in other directions, looking for additional windows in other houses. Perhaps he might come upon a crime in process! Now, that would be quite the picture. Clearly he would win a reward for that. But, he was largely met with just darkness, trees, and street lights. He lowered the camera. He looked around. His room didn't really offer much of a vantage point into his neighbors' homes, as the perspective left and right was blocked by trees. His only option was really the Hemmings' home, directly behind his parents' house. From his vantage point he could see into their kitchen and dining rooms, on the first floor, and what appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom on the second floor. He assumed the window on the far right of the house was a bathroom because it was just a single window with blinds rather than curtains. Of course, a bedroom could have blinds as well. He didn't really know. His eyes though were quickly drawn back to the window with the opened curtains. The girl had returned. Leon immediately recognized her. Of course, it was Patricia! Patricia Hemming. He hadn't thought about her in years. They had been good friends when they were little, very little. That was really so many, many years ago. He could barely remember. He did recall hunting for caterpillars and butterflies with her. He had enjoyed that. So, this was apparently Patricia's bedroom? Actually, he just realized, he should have known that. At one time he had known that. He had played in that very room when they were kids. He smiled at the memory, as weak as it was. They had played these silly little board games, like Chutes and Ladders, Battleship, and the Game of Life. She always giggled when one of them got married and had children. He laughed when they got to turn the offspring in for cash towards the end of the game. He recalled as well playing dress-up. He hadn't enjoyed that game so much. He couldn't recall exactly when they were no longer friends. They just sort of stopped playing with each other. It might have had something to do with her dolls. He never could get into that. It could have also been her dress-up parties. That was even worse than the dolls. In any case, they just drifted apart. It was perhaps only natural for such a thing to happen for a boy and a girl growing up. Leon could see that Patricia had indeed grown up, and out. Of course, that should be no surprise. She was eighteen now, like himself. He focused the lens. She was apparently getting ready for bed. She was in her pajamas, orange ones, all covered with colorful butterflies. He smiled, and clicked the shutter. He felt a little guilty about that. He was kind of invading her privacy. Of course, it wasn't like she was naked or anything. She was just sitting there, in front of her vanity mirror, brushing her hair. She had short wavy red hair. He wondered why girls brushed their hair so much, and he certainly didn't understand why she was doing it before bed. It wasn't like she was going to see anyone before she went to bed. Plus, her hair would just get messed up in bed. Girls can be such a mystery. Now she was putting some sort of lotion or cream on her face. He felt even more guilty about watching her do that. She clearly wouldn't like him noticing her putting on facial lotion. It looked kind of personal. He didn't take a picture of that. He wondered if she would mind him seeing her in her pajamas. He had seen a lot more of her when they were little kids, trying on the outfits from her parents' closet. But, of course, it was much different then, and much different now. His eyes went to the curve of her breasts. She did look rather nice in that pajama top. He zoomed in even closer, so that just her breasts were within the frame. He liked how the butterflies' wings curved around her curves. His penis swelled and he clicked the shutter. It wasn't the most erotic picture he would have within his collection. He had quite a few that he had downloaded from the internet. But this one was certainly among the most nostalgic and sentimental: Patricia was now all grown up. Patricia got up from the seat and moved out of sight of the window. Leon waited for her to return. He waited for quite some time. But it never happened, and then the light in her room went out. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Leon got up early the next day, real early. He did so ostensibly to get some pictures of the sunrise, and early morning insects. Early morning light is less harsh than midday, and insects can look particularly exotic when sprinkled with morning dew. Plus, some insects won't (or can't) fly away until the dew evaporates, so they make for more patient models. But, as he got dressed Leon did find himself repeatedly checking through his window across the backyards. He checked so often that he wondered if this was in fact the real reason he got up so early. Well, if it had been then he was sorely disappointed, as there was nothing to see. Not surprisingly, perhaps, Patricia was not an early riser. He waited for quite some time. The sun though did eventually rise and once it did it wasn't that easy to see into her room. However, that night he was ready, or at least he was in his room well in advance of any possible show, if he could, or should, really call it that. He was in fact getting a bit excited about it, not that he expected anything really interesting to happen. It was just an innocent sort of game, a new game with Patricia. He passed the time as he waited for her light to come on by working on his computer image collection: cutting, cropping, erasing, transporting, coloring, edging, and so forth. It was amazing how much one could improve a picture via the digital software that was now available. In fact, he became so engrossed with one of his early morning dragonfly pictures that the time had escaped him, and he suddenly realized that Patricia's light had been turned on, for how long he did not know. He grabbed his camera and zeroed in on her window. But, there was nothing there, other than her chair, the vanity dresser, and the door. It was rather disappointing after all that time waiting, after all the excited anticipation. Of course, he shouldn't really have expected anything to happen. What would really happen in a girl's bedroom window? Still, he continued to wait patiently, his charged expectation not diminished by the actual dullness of the scene. He was reminded of the time he waited and waited for a monarch to land on his mother's butterfly bush. The level of anticipation was much higher now, but at least then he was occasionally rewarded by the arrival of an interesting insect. Absolutely nothing was happening here. Time continued to pass and he eventually wondered if he had ever been more bored. He was essentially waiting for time to pass, staring at nothing, hearing nothing, doing nothing. He must have wasted an entire hour of his life. Of course, an hour is not that much time relative to a lifetime. He had at least learned that this had not been a good idea. He checked his watch. It had been only twenty minutes. 'Whoa!' There she was, or at least momentarily. It had been only a brief moment, but it was quite the moment. Leon's only regret was that he had not taken a picture, which was rather surprising for him, as he was typically quite skilled at getting the fleeting shot. His photographic reflexes were pretty sharp. But, this time the image had been so shocking, so mesmerizing that he had actually failed to click the shutter. Leon's heart had suddenly raced with Patricia's appearance. She had walked by in her underwear, just long enough to pick up something from her dresser and then return to wherever she had been before. She had been so fucking sexy! She had been wearing a light orange cotton brassiere and bikini panty set, embroidered with darker orange flowers and paisley swirls. Leon had never imagined Patricia ever wearing anything like that. Well, of course, he had never imagined it when he knew her as a little kid. But, even today, he had not been anticipating that. Well, maybe he had been hoping for something along those lines, in the back of his mind, outside of his consciousness, perhaps feeling too guilty and shameful if he consciously acknowledged what he had been waiting for. And, when it finally arrived he was just so surprised and stunned. He had almost fallen out of his chair trying to get the camera focused. He missed the shot. 'Please, please, please,' he kept saying to her, or at least to himself. 'Please come back.' His dick swelled with suspense. And, this time he didn't have to wait long. She soon returned. He quickly took a series of full frontal pictures as she turned to get into her chair, which was actually unfortunate in one respect because as she took her seat at the mirror her panties were no longer in view. However, the view that remained was still awfully nice. Plus, he could review the pictures of her standing by her chair when the show was over. There was something terribly appealing about seeing a girl in her brassiere, particularly when she is innocent to the observation. It was just so naughty, so mischievous, so licentious. He was feeling terribly guilty, yet also so fucking horny and excited. Her boobs looked so full and round, and so flirtatiously decorated with the orange flowery undergarment. He just couldn't get over how well Patricia had grown into the cups of her brassiere. He wondered what other brassieres she might own. His dick swelled to full erection within his slacks. He considered taking his cock out to jerk off to the sight, but he could not bring himself to do such a thing. It would clearly be so wrong, if not downright perverse. Plus, he was unlikely to be able to keep the camera still and focused if he was jerking off with his right hand, or even with his left. The next time he would set up the tripod. 'Oh my!' Patricia was reaching back to unclasp her brassiere. Leon's cock got rock fucking hard within his pants. Yes, perhaps he should look away, but what self-respecting young man would do so at a moment like this? And, besides, what Patricia didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He would never embarrass her by revealing the fact, or showing her the pictures. He most definitely wouldn't post them on one of those "ex-girlfriend" web sites. He vowed at this moment, swearing with all his heart, that he would respect her privacy, as the straps of her brassiere began to slip from those pale delicate feminine shoulders. The anticipation was severe. His heart pounded, his breathing rushed, his eyes focused as tightly as they could. Once the straps were off both shoulders Patricia withdrew the cups from her breasts. They came into the light of the room, the sight of Patricia's young yet truly womanly breasts. Leon's cock wanted a hand on it so fucking bad. Patricia did not have tremendously large boobs, and he could primarily see just one, and that one from the side, but it was nevertheless a sight to behold. Her breast was so round, so full, so firm, so perky. It stood out from her chest like a proud snow peak, capped by a pointy little tower sitting within the middle of a small pool of round red flesh. This was Leon's first real live boob, and for a moment he even forgot to take a picture, but he quickly made up for that, snapping a series. Patricia appeared to be massaging her breast. Leon couldn't tell precisely what she was doing but he suspected she was rubbing out the soreness of her straps, or something. It was so adorable how her boob was so soft, pliant, springy, and bouncy. He was very jealous of her hand, albeit very, very pleased, and grateful, to at least be a witness to the handiwork. He would have to do something for her, something to show his gratitude. Perhaps a present from an anonymous admirer? She momentarily stopped the massage to reach for something on her dresser, the breast giving a wiggle as she did so, like a little excited puppy wondering what she was getting. She retrieved some sort of ointment from a jar. She began to apply the lotion to her breasts, rubbing it in all around, her boobs bouncing, jiggling and squishing, and they becoming all silky smooth and shiny. She appeared to pay particular attention to her nipples. She even squeezed and pinched them, getting the one within Leon's sight so very stiff and pointy, reminding him of what on his own body was also very stiff and pointy. Patricia leaned her head back a bit, her eyes half closing, taking deep breaths, her boobs rising and falling with each breath, as she continued to massage the lotion into her soft, bubbly boobs. Leon continued to take his pictures. This was now a very personal and private scene, but could she really expect him to look away? Would any other boy look away? She did though eventually stop, returning the lid to the jar, her breasts heaving with apparent excitement. She got up, a bit unsteady, bracing herself with her hands on the back of the chair, looking a little confused, a little agitated. 'Take off your panties,' Leon said to himself, 'Please, pull them down.' Maybe girls put lotion down there as well? That would be extremely cool to see. She reached for her panties as she stood by the chair, but then stopped. She looked in the mirror, at her reflection. She bit her lower lip and then turned way, retreating out of sight of the open window. Leon was sorely disappointed but he was at least treated to the sight of Patricia's little perky round bottom so sweetly wrapped within the orange flowered cotton as it scampered away, out of sight. He got some nice pictures of that. Soon thereafter the light within the room switched off, the show apparently over. Nary a subsequent evening went by that Leon was not perched on the edge of his chair, an eye glued to his telephoto lens, the camera now mounted on a tripod. The show did not vary tremendously each night, but Leon was never bored or disappointed, at least when she appeared in the window, in her undies. He looked forward each evening to discover what undies Patricia had been wearing that day. She most definitely appeared to have quite a collection. There were pink thongs, red satin bikini panties, violet lace bikini, pastel lace bikini, lime green bikini, pastel boy shorts, black thongs, and a variety of traditional white cotton, but even these were invariably adorned with various bows, lace trim, or gaily colored with stripes, polka dots, or paisley swirls. Some of them were sprinkled with equally colorful little animals, tasty deserts, flowers, or, much to Leon's delight, butterflies. She had lots of panties with butterflies. He wondered if their childhood mutual interest had contributed to that particular selection. No matter what undies she wore though she wore them well. There really should be an underwear only day. If girls are wearing such pretty things beneath their clothes why do they want to hide them? Well, the answer to that was clear. He wasn't being really serious, but it would just be so cool. His friends told him that there was a bar at the University of Iowa that had a female undies night. Any girl arriving only in her underwear would get in free. He would have to assume that they got free drinks too. He would drive all the way to Iowa City to experience such an event if not for the fact that he was below the drinking age. Of course, that would also include most of the undergraduates at the college. He wondered how many of the patrons were undergraduates. It might be worth the trip just to hang around outside. Rear Window. Remember Rear Window, the old Alfred Hitchcock movie? Jimmy Stewart was stuck in his Manhattan apartment with a broken leg, and observed love, angst, creativity, and even murder through his, yes, rear window. I mostly saw sex through mine. I was still a bit new in NYC in the early '80s. Had a 5th floor walk-up in a slummy building. It was a classic illegal sub-let. I was young, broke, and lonely. But I had a really great rear window. One evening, quite by chance, I saw two people fucking in the building next door, accross the air vent. Woof!! I was glad that I hadn't turned the kitchen light on.That 4th floor bedroom and its king-size bed were eight feet away. A red-haired girl was astride a blonde man. She was twisting and writhing on his cock. And I could see it all! I spat in my hand and began wanking my dick. They were very hot. She threw her head back, thrashing her long thick red hair. The three of us came at nearly the same time, and my cum adorned the windowsill. Next day I got a stool. Every night they put on a show. Every night I wanked off. After a few weeks I realized that I could use Blondie and Red to get laid. I got a second stool and asked girls in bars if they wanted to watch some live sex. Many said yes. At first I just rubbed my dick through my jeans before jumping them. Later I pulled it right out and invited them to wank off, too. It saved time. The ones who came to see always joined in. Watching Blondie and Red fuck was very exciting. Then Blondie and Red broke up. He got the apartment and had a steady stream of women. The times became unpredictable, but I already knew several interested ladies whom I liked, so I managed fine. And the variety was fun. At first he had a different girl almost every night, but then he settled down to some regulars. There was a very cute east-asian woman with cherry-red nipples and a mere whisp of black pubic hair. She liked getting her toes sucked. Alas, I couldn't see that too clearly, given the angle. But I could sure see her cum. For a while Blondie hosted this tall black chick with a geometric haircut. They'd strip and fuck and sleep. It was fierce and active, but ordinary. Until one night when she pulled a big strap-on dildo out of her bag. That night he let her ream his asshole for like 40 minutes. She never came back, though. Did he not ask her over? Was she done with him? I had no way of knowing for sure. Sometimes I saw Blondie on the streets around the neighborhood -- my place was on the avenue, his was on the cross-street. I pretended not to know him; he didn't know me, of course. I kept my kitchen lights off. A few days before he moved away and I never saw him again, Blondie did a three-way, MMF, with some definate gay action. It was very hot. It was a warm night, so the windows were open. Blondie came into his bedroom with a couple, and they sat at the foot of his king-sized bed with the girl in the middle. She was tall and slim, with long thick wavy dark hair. He was taller and had a beard. At first they sat and drank beers. Then she pulled off her tee-shirt; she had no bra, and the two men at once took a breast each. They were medium sized, fairly firm, with pale pink nipples. So were the woman's nipples. She tried to grab their dicks, but couldn't reach. So she broke away, stood and turned, facing the men. She seemed to order them to strip naked, as that's what they did. She finished stripping, too. She knelt between them as they sat on the bed. She took their cocks in her hands, Blondie's in her left, the beard's in her right. She stroked them hard. Then she started licking the tips, while stroking both shafts, first Blondie's then the beard's. She was sucking more and more of their cocks down. She pulled their dicks together and sucked both at once. The men had to put their bodies right up against themselves, wrapping their arms around each other while she sucked both their cocks at once. Alas, my view was the back of her head. Still. They all moved onto the king-sized bed. Blondie took her muff, she took the beard's dick, and the beard took Blondie's big ol' cock right down his throat. They all sucked and fondled for a while. It was wild watching the beard gobble down Blondie's cock. The woman then pulled Blondie up onto her and they began fucking. I had my usual excellent view. The beard found her bag on the floor and fished out a tube of lubricant. Even as I could scarcely believe it, I knew what was coming next. Sure enough, the beard lubed up Blondie's ass-hole and made a fucking Blondie sandwich. All three were grinding and rolling their hips. It was awesome. The new tenants turned out to be none other than the woman and the beard. It was a classic illegal sub-let. I spent 12 years in my apartment there. Rear Window Well, this isn't the Hitchcock thriller you've been waiting for but hopefully you'll find it enjoyable. I purposely didn't seek out an editor for this piece so all you literary scholars who didn't care for the work can, at least, have fun brow beating me. Either way, I was just trying to brighten an otherwise dull afternoon........ Enjoy! Dave and I were driving home from an afternoon of fishing. I hate when he doesn't catch anything. He has a tendency to pout the entire trip back. "I worked that weed bed for a good half hour and nothing. You flip a spinner into open water and come up with a four pounder!" he said, shaking his head. "Well.... you know Dave, years of dedication and studying the water, I.......... "Oh, bullshit," Dave interrupted. "Your just one lucky bastard." "Yeah, That too," I laughed. Dave stared out the window for the next mile or so formulating his fishing strategy or so I thought. He broke his silence with a topic unusual for him. "Speaking of getting lucky and I don't mean to delve into your personal life but how are you and Leigh getting along?" I gave him that wrinkled brow, curious look. "Fine. What makes you ask that?" "Oh I don't know........ It's just that Kris doesn't seem as receptive to my sexual advances as she once did. Maybe I'm just imagining things but it all seemed to start right after that bible study meeting that she and Leigh have been going to for the last six months. I hope they're not being taught that sex is some sort of sin" "Well, I doubt that," I answered. Leigh and I have been married for eight years so it's bound to slow down somewhat." "Yeah, but Kris and I have only been married for three years and we were at it almost every night. Now it's like once every two weeks." I pulled the car over in front of Dave's house. He lived on the main street and my house is about three hundred feet in back of his. It's pretty secluded up on the hill and Leigh and I enjoy the privacy but I had to buy a plow to get us out of there when it snows in winter. I opened the back of the SUV and helped Dave get his gear out. "I wouldn't worry too much, Dave. Both Leigh and Kris have hosted a few of those bible studies and you must know there's no preaching involved." "Yeah, your probably right. So, you want to try more fishing tomorrow night?" "I can't. I'll be in Springfield. I got a big proposal to pitch and It's a three hour drive so I thought I'd stay over tomorrow and be fresh on tuesday morning. Maybe when I get back. I did save a few fish for ya." "Oh, fuck you." Dave made a passing wave with his hand. "I'll see you when You get back." Leigh made a salad while I grilled the steak and, over a nice dinner out by the pool, I relayed what Dave had told me about his and Kris' love life. "I know she loves him," Leigh told me. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the bible study. We're both into the history as opposed to the religious aspect. She's been laid off for over three months now so maybe that has something to do with it. I'm sure whatever it is it will work itself out." I worked on my proposal after dinner and got everything in order. "I'm going to leave right from work tomorrow around noon so if you want to sleep in I won't wake you.... unless you've got big plans for the day." "Oooohhh yeah," she quipped. "I got big plans. I thought I'd polish my shoes!" "Well, you don't want to over do it. You'll be needing a nap after that," I kidded. "That's okay. I'll get up and kiss you good-by. Maybe I'll kiss you a little tonight too," she said, with that devilish look, and off we went to the bedroom. I was at work early the next morning to get some e-mails out and making sure everything was up to date before leaving for Springfield. I was just closing my briefcase when one of my co-workers knocked on my open office door. "Do you have that chart on continuous workflow with you? I was talking with John up in Springfield on friday and he said he'd be interested in seeing it." I thought for a moment while looking around my office. "Yeah. I don't have it here though. It's at my office at home." "You might think about bringing it with you. It could score you a few extra points." I shrugged my shoulders. "I can pick it up. My house is on the way to the highway ramp." Jeez. There's always somebody that's got a last minute idea when you're trying to get something done, I thought to myself. I drove the mile out of my way and turned onto my driveway. At the top I noticed an unfamiliar car in my spot. I pulled off to the side and went into the house. "Well, I'm back for a minute," I said loud enough for Leigh to hear me, but there was no answer. I figured I'd catch her on the way out and headed up over the stairs to my office. I poked around in the corner until I found the tube holding the workflow chart. It looked clean with no tears so I rolled it back up. I took a quick glance around to see if I maybe needed anything else when I heard a voice from outside. My office window faces the back and overlooks the pool. That must be where Leigh was when she didn't answer my hello. I went over to the window and peered down to the pool area. I just about lost my breath at the sight before me. Leigh was sitting on one of the mesh chaise lounges, totally naked and applying lotion to her arms and shoulders. I've known her to sit out there topless on rare occasions but never bare-ass like this. As good as she looked my real focus was laying on the chaise next to her. It was Dave's wife, Kris. I knew Leigh was a 34c and that Kris always looked slightly larger but I never expected this! These had to be a full size larger than Leigh's with nipples and areola the size of a silver dollar. Her pussy was clean shaven unlike Leigh who maintained a neatly trimmed landing strip. I've hung around Dave long enough to know he was the jealous type and If he ever knew I was staring at his wife's nude body he'd have my head. The two girls were chatting and laughing about something but with the window closed I could make out the words. Leigh sat up and faced Kris who was in a straight out prone position. Leigh rubbed some lotion on her palms and started applying it to Kris' legs, starting with her ankles and working up to her thighs. Kris looked over toward the house and Leigh also turned and spoke some words that I was still unable to hear. I thought there must be someone else out there with them but I didn't want to get too close to the window for afraid of being seen. I moved off to the side to get a view closer to the house and there I could see two feet on the edge of a towel. Who's they were, I had no idea but this would explain the strange car I saw in the driveway on the way in. My attention was soon drawn to my wife who was now positioned over Kris' knees and coating her stomach with more lotion. Leigh's hands worked over Kris' ribcage before returning to her belly and then up again between those large tits. Kris, who was resting on her elbows, fell back and closed her eyes as Leigh's hands journeyed over her taught nipples and then to the underside of her breasts. At this point I was squeezing my hard cock through my slacks as my wife hands fondled the very breasts I wished I was sucking on.. I undid my belt, dropped my pants and boxers to the floor and clamped my cock in my hand. With my thump on top I pushed against the fleshy rim of my cock-head while my left, flattened palm made small circles against the tip. Leigh then leaned forward and pinched both of Kris' nipples. My God, I thought they were going to kiss but instead Leigh stood up and looked toward the house as a shadow appeared, followed by the naked body of what seemed to be an older woman. I could only see her from the back but it was obvious she was on the chubby side though not fat. She had strawberry blond hair and was fondling her large breasts as she walked toward the two girls. Leigh took a few steps forward and brushed something off the stranger's shoulder before cupping her breasts and rubbing her nipples in a circular motion against the tits that were offered to her. Leigh quickly bent forward and stepped back as if the contact of this sensitive area tickled. Both Leigh and the stranger laughed as again, Leigh cupped her tits and gave it another try. This time must have been more pleasurable as Leigh was biting her lower lip while she stared closely at the erotic action the two were performing. I don't think my cock had ever been harder than this. I jacked furiously with my right hand while the fingers of my left hand gently fondled and toyed with my ball sack. Drops of pre-cum were now making their appearance. I scooped them up with my index finger and brought them to my tongue, savoring the sweet taste of my own lust. Meanwhile Kris was taking in this breast interaction by shading her eyes from the sun with her right hand. She then said something and either slapped or pinched Leigh's ass. I couldn't really tell as the two girls were blocking my view. Leigh turned around and pushed Kim' hand as all three laughed hard enough that I could hear them through the closed window. Leigh sat down on her chaise lounge and handed the tube of lotion to the stranger who finally turned around, throwing the tube on to her towel that was out of my range of sight. I pause from my cock pulling and thought for a second. I knew this girl. Leigh had introduced her to me at one of the church suppers. She was the choir director and organist at the church! Jeez, if I wait long enough maybe the minister's wife will show up. Well, I didn't think I was going to be that lucky. Paula was the name that finally occurred to me. Her last name.... I had no idea. I continued my stroking, lubricating my shaft and cock head with the excess of pre-cum that was now flowing freely. Leigh had leaned forward and was caressing the knee and inner thigh of Kris' leg. Paula reached down and gently touched Kris' smooth pussy before pushing her own hips forward and showing herself off to the others. She spread her cunt lips as she explained something and Leigh reached up and ran two fingers over her hair covered crotch before leaning back slightly and exposing herself by pulling back the skin around her thighs. I assumed they were talking about shaving or pussy hair as the three of them exposed themselves several times for the others to see. Kris then spread herself and ran her finger the length of her slit, stopping at the top to toy with her clit. She said something to Paula and Leigh laughed as Paula swung her leg over Kris' head and lowered her cunt onto Kris' waiting tongue. She rotated her hips slightly as Kris' mouth went to work. Leigh was taking in this whole scene while wetting her lips with her tongue. There was still plenty of pre-cum flowing from my little slit and I greedily licked from my hand. My shaft was rock hard to the point where the dark blue veins were protruding under the skin, giving my shaft a lumpy feeling as my palm mover it. I squeezed the base of this steel rod between my thumb and index finger and quickly my member went from a dark pink to a deep purple hue. The wetness of pre-cum only accented the engorged veins and gave a glistening effect with the light from the window. I couldn't take my eyes off it. It looked like it had grown an extra inch. All of this examining of my cock had distracted me from the goings on out at the pool and when I peered again out the rear window Leigh had Kris' legs spread and was applying kisses and quick licks to her inner thigh. I couldn't take my eyes away from my wife as her tongue made it's way upwards and onto Kris' bald pussy. I had no idea that Leigh ever entertained the thought of being with another woman. Though we once discussed the possibility of a threesome a few years back, it never lead to anything. At this point I could see Paula's knees starting to buckle under the pleasure of Kim's tongue. She grabbed her ass cheeks and threw her head back and I clearly heard the words "OH FUCK" before her upper torso pitched forward with a violent shaking. Leigh's eyes looked up but her tongue never left Kris' clit and the two fingers she had in her love hole worked faster. Her hips starting bucking as she pulled at her nipples. "Yeah, TONGUE FUCK HER, FUCK HER GOOD," Paula shouted to Leigh. Kris' knees came up and her feet were suspended in mid air. Her arms fell straight out and made a fist. Her body tightened and seconds later there was a loud groan. Leigh backed off but left her fingers in Kris' cunt, slowing the action as if to bring her down easy. One can imagine what this sight was doing to my hard rod. I stroked like I never had before until load after load of cum found it's way through the slit of my cock head. The first blast shot across the window sill and I quickly put my hand over the excited member, trying keep the mess to a minimum. Two more loads erupted, filling my palm and I eagerly slurped them into my mouth before going back for more. I squeezed my shaft in a forward motion and produced another handful of the warm, salty liquid which I savored on my tongue before getting my pants up and half tucking in my shirt. I thought that in fairness to Leigh the girls would most likely return the favor and get her off too but I knew I was pushing my luck by staying in the house. I quickly grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned the window sill as best I could before taking the workflow chart and heading down over the stairs. I was so spent that I thought I was going to fall but I managed to get through the front door and out to the car. Paula's car prevented me from turning around so I had to back down the five hundred feet of driveway, shifting my attention from the rear window to the windshield, making sure I wasn't detected. I made it to the street and headed to the highway ramp where I pulled into the park and ride area to gain a little more composure. I knew I would never tell Dave what I just saw but........ would I tell my wife? I guess time will tell. And with that I drove up the highway ramp and headed for Springfield. Rear Window She finished her dinner, keeping an eye on the window at the end of her kitchen table. She liked having the furniture arranged this way because it gave her a great view of the block while eating, and she knew it would be perfect for later. It was not quite dark yet, it would probably be another half hour or so. She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher, wiped off the table and took a last look around to make sure things were neat. He stabbed at the button in the elevator for his floor. He was pissed that he had to work overtime, but he had managed to get things wrapped up so he could get home before dark. Anyway, working overtime was a good excuse not to go out with the guys for a beer. For the last week or so getting home quickly had been a priority. She opened the box from Victoria's Secret and admired the cream-colored silk camisole and the matching thong. Then went off to shower. He hurriedly unlocked his apartment and threw his briefcase on the chair by the door. He looked out the window, still about 20 minutes of daylight left, enough to gobble down pizza from last night and go through the mail a bit. She lathered herself with the luxurious french milled soap she received years ago as a gift, but had been keeping for a special occasion. She loved the feel of the hot water unwinding her muscles, and the lather and her fingers on her body. She caressed her full breasts for a little longer than her mother would have approved of and began to trim down under, keeping it neat and presentable. He had thrown most of his mail in the garbage, put the cable bill on the desk and tossed his plate in the sink with the others. He peered across the street, an alley really, and noticed that she had moved the furniture in her kitchen. Strange for the kitchen table to be up against the window, but he remembered that he, too, had recently changed his furniture around as well, and his big leather chair also faced the window. She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, feeling her smooth, silky skin. She released the clip that had held her long blonde hair out of the water and brushed her hair with long, luxurious strokes. She stepped into the thong and brought it up to her damp mound. Was she still wet from the shower or already wet for what awaited her? She didn't know, and frankly didn't care. She slipped the camisole over her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Her ample breasts filled out the camisole nicely and her nipples were far more than visible through the thin fabric. She turned to her closet and considered her shoes. He untied his tie and hung it on the rack. Next was his white shirt, not cotton like his colleagues but a fine silk shirt, impeccably tailored. He hated dressing for work, but he had decided that if he had to wear the corporate "uniform" he was going to look damn good doing it. In the gym he had been paying particular attention to his chest and abs, and was pleased to see that both were improving. His chest was nicely defined and his abs were good and solid. Probably a month or so until the six pack started to appear, but it was as flat and as firm as anyone his age he knew. He hung his trousers in the closet and removed his socks, leaving only the black boxer briefs. Her stiletto heels clicked across the hardwood floor of her living room as she headed toward the stereo. She chose the Motown playlist on her IPod and Heard it Through the Grapevine kicked in, and she felt her hips start to sway as she extinguished the lights in her living room and headed to the kitchen. It had been dark about 10 minutes, but with the drapes drawn it was tough to tell. He turned off the lights in his apartment except for the floor lamp next to his chair. He settled in facing the open window, put his glass of ice water on the end table and waited with anticipation. He only had to wait a few minutes. She walked into the kitchen and switched on the light to the ceiling fan directly over the table. As the light came on in the kitchen across the street, he sat up and began paying attention, knowing he was in for a treat. As she headed to the fridge she peeked out the corner of her eye and noticed that he was in his usual spot, under a single light in an otherwise dark apartment. She knew that with the fridge directly opposite the window he had a perfect view of her as she opened the door. With her feet about two feet apart she bent over at the waist to reach the produce drawer. She hesitated for a moment as though she were picking just the right snack, giving him a good view. She separated a banana from the bunch and closed the door. He could feel himself getting harder as she began tonight's episode. He slipped his growing manhood through the fly of his boxer briefs, giving him easy access and allowing plenty of room for expansion. She playfully bit through the end of the banana peel and headed for the window. Opening it provided a gentle breeze and removed the glare from her light, the better to see into the apartment across the alley. He admired her from his seat, not more than 30 feet away, but far enough to provide all of the anonymity that a pair of sensible, professional 20-somethings needed to unleash their fantasies without worrying about diseases or commitments. In each of the three or four episodes they had shared, each got more interesting, and seeing her with that banana between her teeth told him that this was going to be no different. She looked directly at him as she slowly unpeeled the fruit, giving him a mental image of something far more alluring. She lightly licked the tip of the banana, starting to experience its taste and texture between her lips and teeth. He was now fully erect, gently stroking the back of a fingernail along his length, heightening his arousal without moving too quickly. She was pleased to see that she was making him fully hard and nearly as long as the fruit she was enjoying. As she focused on the circle of light across the street she eased the banana into her mouth. She was totally relaxed and easily allowed the first six or seven inches of fruit into her mouth and throat. He ran his hand over his chest, his fingertips providing the sensation of light touch over his muscular skin and dark chest hair that was just thick enough. He felt his hard nipples against his firm pecs and allowed his finger to wander lazily down the line of hair to his navel. She watched his hand move across himself and imagined her own hand, her own tongue, her own nipples making that same route. She felt her mound continue to swell and a bit of dampness appear on the front of her thong. As she sat on the edge of the table directly next to the window, she let the wet fruit trace her jawline and closed her eyes, imagining it was his tongue. She guided it down her neck and to the lace-trimmed edge of her camisole. He had to catch his breath as he watched her slip the banana between her breasts, a place he had often imagined his manhood. He stood from his chair and slipped the briefs off of his hips and, with some difficulty, over his now fully-erect cock. With his left hand he leaned on the window frame as he took his harness in his right hand and stroked slowly, showing her how effective her seduction was. Following his lead, she raised the camisole over her head, revealing her large white breasts against her dark sun-tanned skin. She slipped a hand into the waistband of her thong and began to explore, remembering to keep her body in front of the window and her legs spread wide to give him the best view. He slipped a cube of ice from the glass of water and put it in his right hand, adding a sensual feeling of cold along the thick vein on the bottom of his cock. He felt it grow another fraction and began to feel an orgasm swell in his loins. The sight of his handful of hard cock had a predictable effect on her, and she quickly slipped the thong down to her ankles. She lay back on the table, giving him a perfect view of her hot, wet, very swollen pussy, and her erect nipples pointing straight up. Her fingers explored her lips, slowly opening her throbbing pussy. She sat up as her fingers went in deeply and she raised a wet middle finger to her lips. She licked the length of her finger, allowing the scarlet fingernails to disappear into her mouth as her other hand continued to work her pussy. Knowing he would be unable to stand during climax, he sat back in his chair, watching her move and imagining that it was her red fingernails stroking his cock as it entered her mouth. He saw her body jump and knew that her fingers had found her clit. As her fingers moved quickly on her swollen clit, she resisted the temptation to close her eyes. His pace had increased and she knew that he did not have much longer. Her breathing became a series of moans as she watched him pleasure himself. His hips began to buck as he enjoyed the visual sensation as well as the touch of his hand. His cock was turning a bright purple under his grip. He loosened his hand and pumped a few more times. The hot, salty, semen jumped to his chest in thick gobs. The sight of him cumming sent her over the edge and she felt a hard orgasm come from deep within her. Her entire body lurched, and the fingernails of her left hand dug into the edge of the table. He milked the last of his orgasm from his cock as he watched her climax. She lay still on the table, catching her breath and enjoying the blissful post-orgasmic feel throughout her body. Eventually she sat up and smiled at her 'partner.' She mouthed to him, "Tomorrow?" He nodded enthusiastically, turned off the lamp and headed to the shower to clean up. She found a squashed banana under her. She tossed it in the trash, turned out the light and headed to her bedroom for some comfortable shorts. Up and down both sides of the alley, their neighbors turned their lights back on. Rear Window You've seen the movie, right? It's a classic. Hitchcock in the director's seat. Jimmy Stewart in plaster watching his neighbours from his apartment window. Yeah, well, that's me right now. Only I'm no Jimmy Stewart - far from it. I'm nearly seventy years old and I didn't have a fall at a motor race while taking action shots. No, I tumbled down three flights of stairs and have what my hospital notes describe as "bilateral #NOF", i.e. two sodding broken hips. Neither does sexy, young pre-royalty Grace Kelly come visiting at intervals, dressed in Dior, to check my crown jewels are still in working order. (She probably actually did suck the lucky bastard off. I hear she was quite the slapper in real life, behind that icy facade). No, my only visitor is Nurse Glover, a hefty community nurse with a brisk, unsympathetic manner who probably last administered a blowjob circa 1985. God, I'm bored. "You've seen the movie, right?" I ask Glover, trying to divert myself from the humiliation of a sponge bath at her hands. "What movie?" she asks. "Rear Window. The one when Jimmy Stewart's immobilised after an accident and -" "He witnesses a murder?" she interrupts. "Yes, I've seen it. I don't think there are many murders at ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning in a nice middle-class town like Roseford." "Well, never mind that," I say. "I'm bored out of my mind here. Can you fetch me the binoculars from the dresser in the dining room?" "It's not in my job description," she answers, predictably. "And what are you going to do? Watch your female neighbours getting undressed?" In fact, this is exactly what I plan to do, but she knows she's overstepped the mark and, probably hoping to head off a complaint to her manager, fetches my binoculars without further protest before telling me she'll see me tomorrow and letting herself out. Katherine and I bought this flat back in the nineties when I retired. We knew all the neighbours then, but now most of the flats are buy-to-let investments - the development being in reasonable walking distance of the main line into London - and the turnover among occupants is high. There is no-one to look in on me and help me pass the time. Katherine herself left only a few years later. She always had a much lower sex drive than I, but when I was working I had an endless stream of young, nubile secretaries on tap willing to keep me satisfied in every possible way. I have such fond memories of blowjobs under the desk and debauched office parties. Adultery was not so straightforward once I was no longer out of the house from six in the morning to eight in the evening every weekday, and when Katherine returned home from a cancelled keep fit class one Monday afternoon to find me fucking Belinda (one half of John-and-Belinda, a couple on our dinner party circuit) doggy-style on the marital bed she lost no time in packing her bags and beginning lengthy court proceedings that robbed me of half my savings and pension and our villa in Spain. My friends pointed out that it had been beyond stupid to shit on my own doorstep like that, and I can't fault their reasoning, although I can't say I am really that sorry. Belinda had the tightest pussy and arse I have ever experienced. Anyway, such nostalgia aside, the second floor flat across the courtyard has been empty for a week and today a new neighbour is moving in. This is the best entertainment I've had for days. The new occupant is female and a knock-out. She can't be more than twenty-three or -four and she has a perfect hourglass figure, currently clad in skintight low-rise jeans, a short tight t-shirt that exposes an inch of olive-skinned midriff and red Converse sneakers. Her hair, tied back in a ponytail, is a mass of snaky black curls. I strongly suspect she has Italian or Spanish ancestry. In middle-age she will probably be heavy, but right now she is voluptuous, firm and ravishing. She kisses the two men who have helped her bring in her boxes and who are now leaning back on the kitchen counter drinking beer, but only on the cheek. They are dark like her - probably brothers. It looks to me like she will be living here alone. Result! After the men have left, she sets up speakers in the bedroom first, plugs her iPod into them and is soon dancing round the flat, her lovely hips undulating, her arms above her head, as she decides where to put her possessions. My cock is hard just watching her. Suddenly, enforced convalescence is a much less dull prospect with this hot piece of ass across the way. I watch her for most of the afternoon as she comes and goes. She seems to spend most of her time in the kitchen and bedroom, whose windows face me. She is blissfully unaware of the peeping Tom spying on her. As the natural light fades she switches on the brass chandelier overhead and I sit in my wheelchair in the gloom, eating a microwave ready meal off my lap. Finally, she decides to get ready for bed and I can't help stroking my swollen cock. She crosses her arms and pulls her t-shirt over her head. Underneath, she is wearing a plain black bra - no lace or seams which would show through her t-shirt. She unties her shoes, kicking them off, and then turns her back to wriggle out of the jeans. She is wearing thong panties so tiny that her big round buttocks are completely exposed. Fuck, they are perfect - smooth, gleaming orbs of tender, succulent flesh. I yearn to bite them. She leans over to pull her jeans over her feet and I glimpse her fleshy pussy-lips, to either side of the tiny scrap of fabric. My hand is now moving in a blur. At last, she turns to face me again and reaches behind her to unclip her bra. I hold my breath, increasing the magnification on the binoculars, grateful that I blew such a vast sum on really good ones that time Katherine and I went on safari. The back strap of her bra falls free and, despite their weight, her big tits hardly sag at all. They still have the gravity-defying perkiness of extreme youth. The shoulder straps slip to her biceps and she crosses one forearm across her chest, holding the cups in place. I let out a little growl of frustration as she reaches out and draws the curtains. All I can see now is her shadow behind the curtain as she finally removes her arm and her bra dangles from her hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My cock is rock hard and there's no relief. I can't believe I didn't get to see her boobs. I close my eyes, seeing her again in my mind's eye, wanking furiously until I cum in torrents over my hand and wrist. . . . She is up early in the morning and so am I - my cock engorged as I watch her dress. To my chagrin I somehow missed seeing her emerge from the bathroom. When I catch up with her she is already wearing a mesh fitted camisole with suspenders dangling from the bottom. Today's hot news though is that she is not wearing knickers. She moves the chair away from the dresser and puts one leg up on it, smoothing a seamed stocking over it and securing the deep lace top of the stocking to the suspenders. She pirouettes in front of the dresser mirror, checkng her seam is straight. Then she repeats the process with the other stocking. She stands on tiptoe as she spins, tightening her calf muscles and glutes, and I get a good view of both her beautiful backside, framed perfectly by the suspended straps, and her pubic mound. She has what I believe is called a 'landing strip', the rest of her pubic hair trimmed away. Her pussy lips wink pinkly at me from between her thighs. She steps into a pair of very high-heeled black shoes and then selects a knee-length pin-striped shift dress from her wardrobe. She zips herself into it. It skims over her curves, only hinting at the riches beneath. Finally, she adds a matching jacket and tosses her hair to free any strands that have been caught. She still has not put on any knickers and I realise she plans to commute into London without any. I envy any lucky man who secures the seat opposite her on the train or tube. As she sits her skirt will ride up offering a glimpse of her stocking tops and - if she uncrosses and crosses her legs, possibly even her cunt. I shiver with desire. She looks so like some of those pretty little secretaries I used to bang twenty years ago. I wonder if she sucks off a middle-aged boss at lunchtimes. I am very close to cumming and, as she grabs her bag and leaves, I wank to orgasm. . . . She really loves to dance. She dances round the flat in her underwear in the morning as she chooses the day's outfit. She dances when she gets in from work, often shedding clothes as she does. She dances as she cooks her dinner. And when she dances so do her breasts, jiggling and bouncing. And she likes to go out to dance too. My neighbour is going clubbing tonight. She emerges from the shower, damp, pink and delectable, with a towel wrapped around her and sits at the dressing table, tipping her head forward to dry her hair. When she's done it cascades down her back in wild abandon. She applies heavier make up than usual, smoky grey eyeshadow, lots of black eyeliner and mascara and bright pink lipstick. She moves out of my line of vision and returns - damn! - dressed in a strapless black bra and matching boy-shorts. She selects a dress from her wardrobe and wriggles into it. The spaghetti-strapped dress is form-fitting and very short, barely covering her bubble butt. It is covered in overlapping rows of shining, metallic discs. She lifts her hands above her head as she so often does when she dances around the flat and gyrates. My trousers are suddenly very tight. The discs on her dress ripple and shimmer tantalisingly but she is unaccountably dissatisfied with the effect. She shimmies again and pouts at her reflection. Then to my delighted astonishment, she crosses her arms, pulls the dress over her head and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. She tosses it onto the bed and at last I see her breathtaking breasts in all their naked glory. They are more magnificent than I could have imagined. They barely sag, despite their size. I estimate they are at least an E cup and possibly larger. Her areolae are large and dark brown and surround dark, dark, nipples - probably not much bigger in circumference than the rubber on the top of a pencil but long, and lengthening as she tweaks them to make them stand erect. They point slightly skyward as she squeezes the beautiful globes together and pinches the peaks. Then she puts her hands above her head and performs the same shimmy as before. Oh my God! Her breasts describe great circles in the air as her body undulates. I watch in fascination, thinking about how they would look with my cock nestling between them as I titfucked her - and I blow my load in jets so powerful some droplets adhere stickily to the window-pane. I have watched a lot of porn and fucked a lot of women, but this is the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my life. Her boobs bounce almost obscenely before they finally settle and she pulls the dress back on over her braless chest. She does one final shimmy and her unsupported breasts dance in abandon beneath the glittering discs. She smiles at herself in satisfaction, tosses her head, grabs a clutch bag and turns out the light. I am left to clean up my mess. . . . It is no surprise when she brings a man home in the small hours. Like an anxious father on the night of his little girl's first date, I have waited up for her - and like an anxious father I am initially jealous and outraged. But I soon realise that, despite my jealousy, this has its advantages. I am going to get to see a live sex show. The man is what I believe is in common parlance known as "ripped". His skin is dark brown and shiny and his chest and arm muscles bulge beneath his fitted t-shirt. I imagine how they must have looked together on the dance floor, she grinding her butt against him, he wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and sliding them up to find her breasts swinging free. His cock must have stood to attention then, pressing into her arse-crack as he tongued her earlobe and said, "Your place or mine?" Possibly. Anyway, it's her place and she pulls her dress over her head in one fluid motion. His eyes widen as he finally gets an unobstructed view of those glorious tits. He squeezes them together and lowers his head to suck her left nipple and then her right. He tongues them for a long, long time and her head falls back in ecstasy. Then he lets the nipple he's been sucking pop from his mouth and hooks his thumbs into her boyshorts, pushing them down her legs. When she steps out of them she is buck naked but for her high-heeled shoes. He is still fully clothed. They talk for a moment as his eyes roam over her beautiful, nude body and he pulls her in for a long kiss. Then she draws back, a strand of saliva still connecting her bottom lip to his, and pushes him on to the bed. He kneels and she gets on all fours in front of him, and unbuckles his trousers. She pulls his trousers over his snake-hips - he doesn't have on any underwear, and his erection springs free. He certainly lives up to the stereotype - it is long and thick and she gazes at it in wonder for a moment. She sucks the very tip gently and then lets it pop from her mouth. It bounces back and slaps her in the face and she laughs. She wriggles to get into a comfortable position and turns slightly. To my excitement, I can clearly see her pussy lips. They glisten with arousal and anticipation. She settles to sucking again. She is clearly talented - she takes the whole thing into her mouth right to the hilt, despite his size. The head must be well beyond her tonsils. He throat-fucks her for long minutes, holding her hair, and her eyes are streaming. Her butt wiggles as she takes it and her anus winks at me. He has more self control than I would in his position: he manages to withdraw from her and then lies back on her bed as she undresses him, admires his sculpted pectoral and abdominal muscles, straddles him and guides his spit-soaked monster into her pretty, wet pussy. He has made an excellent choice: this position showcases her body to best advantage. Her breasts jiggle seductively on her chest; he holds her narrow waist. Both he and I watch, entranced, as his glistening cock appears and disappears repeatedly between her rosy labia. She cums quickly. He lasts longer than I can. I manage only about half a dozen bounces before the fireworks go off. . . . She wakes in an excellent mood, spinning around as she dances naked around her flat on Saturday morning - but she didn't ask him to stay the night. Nor does she see him again. The following Friday evening she prepares for another night on the town, and I get another treat. After her shower, she moves her chair to face the window to make the most of the natural light and attends to personal grooming matters. First she paints her toenails whore-red. Then she shaves her pussy. Fucking hell, this is a great show. She parts her legs and puts one foot up on the bed. Her pussy lips are spread in this position and she spreads them further as she lathers up and begins to shave, pulling the skin taut to avoid cutting herself. It is beyond me why she does not perform this task in the shower, but I am definitely not complaining. Oh God, she has the prettiest cunt. She takes care to get a sharp edge to her landing strip and then trims it very short with nail scissors. Then she goes over every crease and crevice of her groin to ensure she is otherwise utterly smooth and bald. Finally, she wipes off the shaving cream with a washcloth and strokes lotion over the reddened skin. By this time I can see she is turned on. Her labia have darkened and swelled up. She begins to masturbate. Two of her fingers slide into her wet hole and she thrusts them in and out as her head falls back. Then she is circling her clit with the two fingers, spreading her own juices around it. She rubs it gently, gradually increasing the speed and pressure. With her other hand she squeezes a breast, pinching and twisting her nipple. A flush is spreading over her upper chest and abdomen and I see she is getting close. I have, of course, been matching her movements by stroking my cock, holding the binoculars to my fascinated eyes. As her body begins to buck, I too explode. We have achieved simultaneous orgasm. . . . She seems to have a preference for black cock. Tonight's conquest is mixed-race, another gym rat, well-built and good-looking. She is wearing wet-look leggings tonight that cling to her like a second skin, showing the outline of her pert, round arse. Her front door isn't even closed before she wriggles out of her tube top and begins to dance, topless. He stands behind her, watching her tits doing their own erotic dance in the mirror and then covers them with his hands, dancing with her, pinching her nipples as she grinds her backside into him. She turns in his arms and strips off his clothes then loses her leggings, and they slow-dance naked for about three minutes, probably along to a song playing on her iPod. She falls to her knees and I can no longer see her - the wall's in the way - but I guess from the rapt, slightly vacant look on his handsome face that she is sucking his cock. He stands there for a while then bends and lifts her to her feet. He stands behind her at the dressing table, she leans forward and he enters her from behind. He holds onto her waist and stands still while she moves, as if she is still dancing (and perhaps her iPod is still blasting out music at 2 a.m. - I pity her closer neighbours who get to hear her but not to see her), fucking herself on his erect penis. He is smiling, with his eyes closed, lost in the silken grip of her pussy. Then she looks back over her shoulder and speaks and his smile widens. Clearly responding to what she has said to him, he pulls out of her cunt, slides his dick up her arse-crack and pushes it into her anus. Her eyes close and her mouth opens and she resumes her gyrations. His eyes are open now and he is watching with a face-splitting grin as his prick fucks into her backside. That lucky bastard. He knows it, too, and is taking full advantage. He now has one hand on her shoulder and the other is holding her hair and he is matching her rhythm, pulling away as she does and then slamming back into her. He's being really rough with her. But she is loving it. I can't see her face but it's not hard to read her body language. She is meeting him thrust for thrust. And then, her body tenses and begins to buck against his. She turns her head again and her mouth is open, her eyes rolling back. She is cumming. Now, in my experience it is exceedingly rare for a woman to orgasm from anal sex. My wife, Katherine, would not let me fuck her arse at all. My friend's wife, Belinda, would let me do hers now and again but she only came from clitoral stimulation, never from anal penetration. I've only ever come across one girl who came with my cock in her arse before: a slutty, skinny red-haired copy typist by the name of Janine. Janine was nineteen when she came to work at the company whose board I sat on, way back in the 1980s. Within weeks of joining the company she had earned herself quite a reputation. By that Christmas she had sucked off at least half the board and the Director of Finance brought her in to the last Board meeting of the year and stripped her naked. She was passed around the table as we conducted our business. I was fifth in line and didn't fancy her sloppy stretched-out pussy. When it was my turn, I had her kneel and suck my cock to stiff slickness and then sat her in my lap, impaling her arse on my erection. She bounced enthusiastically as I cupped her tiny tits from behind and then I held her in place, grinding into her depths. It was at that point that she went rigid and cried, "I'm cumming!" and juice gushed from her, soaking my suit trousers. Luckily I kept a change of clothes in my office for such eventualities and sent her, reeking of cum, to the dry cleaners after the meeting. I was sorry when the little slut became pregnant and left. Rear Window Ah, memories. While I took my little trip down Memory Lane I reached my climax and so, apparently, did my neighbour's lover as he is holding her hips firmly and pulsing his own pelvis. His semen must be deep in her bowels. . . . I have a surprise visitor at lunchtime. Belinda buzzes the entry phone, bearing a cottage pie. I have managed to stay on significantly better terms with John, the man I cuckolded, than with my ex-wife. Fortunately, Katherine was too humiliated to share the details of what she saw that afternoon and Belinda was able to pass it off as a spur of the moment grope that went a little too far. I have continued to fuck Belinda irregularly during the intervening years, and now it seems my accident has brought out the nurturing side of her character. She puts the cottage pie in the oven to heat and then removes her raincoat to reveal the rest of her get well gift. She is wearing only a cotton apron over hold up stockings and when she turns her back I can see her naked arse. She takes me into the bedroom and, pulling off the apron, gets to work sucking my dick. She has to put in a lot of effort. Unfortunately, her semi-clad body invites too many unfavourable comparisons with that of my hot slut neighbour. Her pendulous udders are saggy and deflated in comparison to the youthful swell of my neighbour's incredible breasts. Her skin, the product of hours spent under the sunbed, now feels coarse and leathery to me. My neighbour's skin is smooth and a natural olive colour. Her hair is dry and a little frizzy where my neighbour's fat curls are glossy and soft. Eventually - helped by my lascivious thoughts about the girl across the courtyard - Belinda manages to coax an erection from me. Her mouth is hot and wet and if I close my eyes I can kid myself my neighbour's full, soft lips are wrapped around it, rather than Belinda's thinner ones. Then she mounts me and guides my penis into her cunt. Even with my eyes closed I can no longer pretend she is my fantasy girl. Her wiry pubic hair scratches me as she rises and falls: my goddess has a smooth shaven mound. I reach out to hold her waist and it is wider and insufficiently pliant. I am beginning to lose my hard-won erection. Feeling me going soft within her, Belinda rolls and gyrates her hips. Her breasts lift and fall with a slapping sound instead of bouncing and dancing like my neighbour's and I lean over and turn on the radio to drown out the sounds. I close my eyes again and listen to the thumping beat of the music. Now I can picture the girl with her arms over her head, dancing naked around her bedroom as she so often does. My cock stiffens again inside Belinda's pussy and she writhes above me. I buck my hips up to meet her, my fingers on her lace stocking tops, and she cums hard, screaming and panting. I'm sure the girl is a screamer too and the thought triggers my own climax, Belinda's cunt walls milking the torrent of semen from me. She collapses on top of me, laughing. "That was amazing," she breathes. My thoughts are elsewhere. "Will you let me shave your pussy?" I ask. She sits up and stares at me. "What would I tell John?" . . . I'm mobile again and Nurse Glover has removed me from her caseload, but I only go out when the girl across the courtyard is at work. My need to watch her is like an addiction. I am glued to my window. I have been taking chances and several times nearly been caught. I'm not sure if it's the sunlight reflecting off my binoculars catching her attention, but once or twice she has looked straight at me as she undresses and I have hastily had to duck behind the curtains. Maybe it is paranoia on my part, though, as she still rarely bothers to draw her own drapes. She still dances naked round the flat, her arms in the air, her boobs swinging. She masturbates using her fingers or a black silicone vibrator in full view of the window. She still fucks men she's picked up with all the lights on. I still cum at least daily while spying on her. . . . Tonight she brings home - holy fuck! - two men. One is the mixed-race guy from a couple of weeks ago. The other is new and - a novel development - a Caucasian with blond hair. He plugs his iPhone into her speakers and pulls off her top and skirt and unclasps her bra.Then they watch, the blond guy sitting on the bed, the other on her dressing table chair, as she dances for them in only a thong, thigh-highs and strappy heels. It is an intensely erotic sight. They clearly think so too, as they only watch for one song before disrobing, lifting her between them and carrying her to the bed, where they pull off her knickers. Then the mixed-race guy straddles her waist, squeezes her boobs together and begins to tit-fuck her. Meanwhile, the blond guy has spread her thighs and is eating her pussy. She clearly loves this, and before the guy with his cock between her tits can cum she is thrashing on the bed in the throes of orgasm. They roll her onto her stomach and then lift her into all fours. Tit-fucker kneels at her head and thrusts his cock into her willing mouth. The blond man kneels behind her, spreading her arse-cheeks and pushes his dick into her pussy. They spitroast her on her bed with little finesse until the blond opens his mouth in a roar and, pulling out, fires semen all over her back. His cry triggers the mixed-race guy's orgasm and he too pulls out, spraying her lovely face with his goo. She giggles and licks her cheeks. The rest of their cum dries on her body as she catches her breath. Once her breathing is back to normal she smiles at both of them and says something. Grinning, they kneel and she begins to suck them both off, alternating between the black prick and the white, restoring their lost hardness. Once they are ready, they switch ends and repeat the process, this time both cumming inside her. Then all three wriggle under the covers, she sandwiched between them, for some rest. Three times in the night they wake her and take her again. The third time, she straddles the white guy, riding his dick, and the mixed-race guy spits into her anus and enters it. Sandwiched between them, she writhes until she is satisfied, her body quaking between them for a full minute when she reaches her climax. It is the first time she hasn't slept alone. They don't leave until they have had her again in the morning, in another double-penetration. By then, my balls - like theirs - are drained quite dry. . . . A shock awaits today when I walk past my window, toothbrush protruding from my mouth. Her bed is covered in boxes, piled high with books, pictures and all the detritus of a young woman's life. I gasp in horror. It's a rental property, probably a three month tenancy, and it's been three months since she came into my life. It's over. My movie has come to an end. I feel unusually emotional and actually have to dash a tear from my cheek And then she walks into the room and looks straight into my eyes. I duck away from the window, embarrassed at being caught out, but she lifts her hand, palm out in a 'Stop' gesture. She moves some of the boxes off the bed to make room and lifts something onto it. It looks like a child's painting easel - the type with a dry-wipe board on one side and a blackboard on the other. The dry-wipe board faces the window and she begins to write: hey, mister, u watch me I nod my head, shame-faced. She wipes away the words and starts to write again: undressing, dancing, fucking I blush harder. I know what I am: a dirty old peeping Tom. She erases these words, too, and continues to write. Now the board reads: I like it My mouth drops open. I cum hard when u watch Now I'm staring. Not only is she not angry with me for spying on her: she seems to be saying it turned her on! I have to move out today I nod, pulling a sad face. but I want to say thank you what number are you? Holy fuck! Is she saying what I think she's saying? I scramble to find a large sketch pad and a marker pen. I scrawl "65" and hold the pad up to the window. When I lower it again she is gone, but there is one last message on her board: on my way Rear Window Homage Rear Window is a 1954 film directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring James Stewart and Grace Kelly. This fictional story is inspired by some of the characters and events of the film. It is in no way connected to the film and any resemblance is purely coincidental. For a while I wished I could go back and start that day again. It had all begun so well. The forecast was for a beautiful summer's day; clear blue skies and wall to wall sunshine. I hadn't taken the Norton out for a long time and this seemed the perfect opportunity. I pulled on my leathers feeling them a little tighter than the last time I wore them. It reminded me that I also needed to get back to the gym. I had been working away for the past six months and had been so busy that I had let my training regime go. I adjusted my helmet and wheeled the bike out of the garage. It had been serviced by my regular mechanic just before I went away so I hoped that it would fire up. Yes, that's good, I thought, as the familiar roar came from the engine. I didn't have any real plan as to where I was going. I had always enjoyed just getting on the bike and letting a journey unfold in front of me. Free styling it like that had taken me to some wonderful places I would never have thought of otherwise. So, I slowly rode through South London and onto the motorway just to open her up a bit. I wouldn't stay on the motorway for long as it's just so boring riding such a magnificent bike in a straight line. Give me England's winding A or even B roads any day of the week. I was planning to take a month off after this last contract so the ride today would be the beginning of my holiday. I turned off soon enough onto a two lane A road and just let the machine do its thing. It was a perfectly balanced and powerful beast and I think I'm a good rider when I'm in the groove. Bike and man were at one with each other that day, until 'it' happened. 'It' happened when I had just come round a blind corner and found a small Ford overtaking a lorry coming straight at me. The last thing I remembered was the terrified look on the faces of the young lads in the Ford. I woke up in hospital the next day with a broken collarbone, two broken ribs, a compound fracture of the right leg and a badly ruptured Achilles. I couldn't remember what had happened but they told me I was very lucky. I lost control of the bike as I tried to avoid the car and slid off the road into a thicket of bushes. The Ford and the lorry didn't stop. Thankfully, a motorist following me did stop, called 999 and the air ambulance got there pretty quickly. It could have been much worse. Still, it was bad enough. I was going to be laid up for a while. I had just moved into a newly converted flat up on the top floor of an old four storey Victorian building in London. It had been an old workhouse with buildings built surrounding a central courtyard. It was a perfect flat for my bachelor lifestyle; two double bedrooms, new kitchen, big lounge and a wet room. The big feature was floor to ceiling windows in the living room which looked out over a shared landscaped courtyard. Perfect, aside from the fact there was no lift. I was discharged from hospital a week after surgery; they needed the bed space apparently. I had a surgical boot for the Achilles rupture, a plaster cast for the fracture and an arm sling for the collarbone. All in all, a class one screw up. After some wrangling between my solicitors, my company and the health insurers, it was agreed that I could get a live in carer and physiotherapist for the two months recuperation I would need. The insurance was trying to claim the accident had been my fault but the witness statement together with the police report finally absolved me of all blame. My parents had emigrated to Australia about five years previously so there was going to be no help from them. Mum did offer to fly back over, but Dad hadn't been well recently so I told her that she should stay out there to look after him. My sister, Mandy, a research biologist was halfway up the Wazoo, or some such river in the Amazon, so no help there either. I didn't have a girlfriend to call on as I had discovered my last one cheating on me with her personal trainer. There was an old girlfriend who had offered to pop in to keep me company from time to time but that was as far as it went. There were mates, of course, but they were worse than useless when it came to providing help. So, it was going to be me and my live in carer stroke cook stroke physio for the next couple of months. The hospital sent me home in an ambulance and the paramedics, bless them, managed to carry me up the stairs on one of those chair thingys they have for such occasions. I had been given a wheelchair, and a commode chair, God forbid My carer was due to arrive at lunchtime and precisely at 1200 there was a call on the intercom. I buzzed him in and several minutes later there was a knock on the door and I managed painfully to wheel myself to the door and open it. Standing outside was a weedy looking guy with his hair in a pony tail and a couple of large suitcases. 'Hi, I'm Paul, I'm your live in.' 'Oh. Right, I'm Jeff, pleased to meet you.' We shook hands and I guess I was a bit underwhelmed by him. He looked a bit puny for the task of hauling me around for the next few weeks. Although I had already seen in hospital how much a tiny Filipino nurse could lift with the right technique. He had just hauled two heavy suitcases up four flights of stairs and he didn't seem out of breath, so I guess that boded well. Paul immediately took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed me back into the flat before retrieving his suitcases. 'That's a lot to bring, isn't it?' I said. 'Just a few things for the next couple of months,' he replied, 'it saves me having to go back for stuff.' Fair enough, I thought. I showed him the spare bedroom which was only just smaller than mine. I had commissioned an interior designer mate of mine to decorate and furnish the flat before I moved in, so Paul's room had never been used and he could just move his stuff straight in. 'What a lovely flat,' Paul said as he came back out of his room. 'Did you do the design?' 'God, no,' I said. 'If it had been left to me I would have gone straight to Ikea and bought everything there.' Paul smiled and said, 'Well, whoever did it has very nice taste.' I looked around at the flat in a new light, and I guess it did look pretty nice. It was a conversion and my friend had left as many original features as possible but had brought the entire flat up to date with modern furniture mixed in with a few older pieces I had inherited when my parents moved to Australia. 'OK,' said Paul, 'let's get the schedule organised shall we?' Paul turned out to be very efficient and it was obvious he had done this kind of work before. Before long we had a working schedule laid out for meals and physio sessions, which would be twice a day to begin with. I could just about move around in the wheelchair but I would need help with showering and the toilet at least for a while. This was the part I wasn't looking forward to but I thought I would just have to grin and bear it. 'OK, what do you normally do for lunch?' Paul asked. 'Pie and a pint at the pub, normally,' I said grumpily. He laughed and said, 'Well, that might have to wait for a bit but let's see what we can rustle up.' My old girlfriend, Lisa, had ordered a whole load of groceries from an online grocery service and had been at the flat the previous day to receive the delivery, and to pay the guy a big tip for dragging it all up the stairs to the flat. She is pretty good looking, though, so she often had men eating out of her hand, me included while we were dating. 'Is a croque monsieur and some soup OK?' Paul called out from the kitchen. 'Sure, sounds good,' I called back. Paul brought it through on a tray complete with a bottle of lager. God bless Lisa, she had gotten her priorities right. I pushed myself over the window so I could at least look at something while I ate and took the tray onto my lap. Paul had made himself a small salad and sat at the table to eat. 'At least you have something to look at,' Paul said, nodding at the windows. 'Yea, better than daytime television I guess.' I said a bit sulkily, realising this was probably going to be my world for the next few weeks. We finished lunch, Paul cleared away and we started on our first physio session. I wheeled myself into the bedroom, and Paul helped lift me out of the chair onto the bed. He managed that with ease and I began to realise his smallish stature belied his real strength. I was wearing a very old and loose t-shirt and sweat pants as they were the only things I could manage at the moment. Paul carefully removed the t-shirt and then the sweat pants. His hands were very soft I noticed and very well manicured. I even thought his nails had some clear varnish on them. From the first moment he laid hands on me I could tell how good a masseur he was. His hands were strong and gentle. He was working some kind of magic on me as he carefully went through a whole set of exercises that the hospital had devised for me. I have to admit I felt so much better after the session. 'Where did you train, Paul? You have wonderful hands' I said. 'I trained as a physio here in London for three years after school, and then went travelling, got to Bangkok, learnt their massage techniques, ran out of money and worked as a masseur there for a while until I came back to London.' I wondered about him working as a masseur in Bangkok and what that might have entailed. Paul chatted away about his time travelling and how much he had enjoyed Bangkok. That was a city I had always wanted to get to but had never got round to visiting. He was easy to talk to; probably I realised because he was a good listener, a skill that must have come in very useful in this job. He got me back into my t-shirt and sweat pants and wheeled me back into the living room. I had my Apple laptop on the desk in front of the window so I could do some work from home. It also gave me the chance to look at what was going on outside the window. The windows were floor to ceiling and I could see most of the courtyard and a lot of the three other blocks. It was a mixed development with some shops on the ground floor, artisan stuff mostly, bread, cheese, wine shop and the ubiquitous coffee shop in one corner. The first floor was let out as office space and the top two floors as apartments. The planning authorities had specified to the developers that they couldn't install elevators as it was a listed building so, it became literally a walk up. Paul had made some tea and we sat looking out and I explained the history of the place. I told him that families were split up once they came into the workhouse and the only times they could get together was at exercise time in the central courtyard before having to go back to their segregated buildings. 'Those poor people,' Paul said, 'we can be so intolerant. I know all this has changed,' and swept his arm across the view outside, 'but we still don't accept people for what they are.' He said this softly but with such passion I had to turn and look at him. He blinked once or twice, turned away and said he would leave me alone for the afternoon. In addition to being a wonderful masseur, Paul turned out to be a very capable cook. Lisa was coming by this evening as a kind of one woman house warming. I asked Paul if he could cook for three tonight and he said it would be no problem. Lisa barged in about 6 o'clock and having kissed me on the cheek and made a lot of noise about how she had warned me so many times about that bloody motorbike and that I never listened to her and when was I going to find a woman and settle down because the clock was running and I wasn't getting any younger and yes I was very handsome but there is no time like the present... She could as usual have gone on like that all night if she hadn't noticed Paul standing quietly at the kitchen door. I called him over and introduced them to each other. 'Paul, this extraordinary force of nature and well known windbag is Lisa, an ex of mine who is now happily married with three lovely bambinos, and Lisa, this is Paul my carer. Actually, no I can't call you that. I know, he's my new BFF.' Paul laughed and shook hands with Lisa and said, 'Pleased to meet you Lisa,' Lisa said, 'Likewise, Paul, and don't take any crap from this man, he's impossible, I should know.' Paul smiled, a big natural smile that lit up his face and said, 'Oh, he's just perfect I think. If you would excuse me I have to go check on dinner.' As Paul walked off to the kitchen Lisa watched him go and then turned to me, pulled a face and said, 'EEEuuuww that put me down didn't it.' 'Stop it,' I said, 'he's just doing his job,' 'Mmmm, well I have to tell you he is very pretty. He also pings my gaydar you know.' 'What? Don't be daft Lisa.' 'Daft? You know I'm just a big fag hag don't you.' 'Bugger off and get us a drink, will you?' 'Poor choice of words my sweet.' she moved off to get me a scotch and herself a gin and tonic. She stuck her head through the kitchen door and asked Paul if he wanted anything. He asked for some sparkling water and Lisa sorted us all out with drinks. Lisa and I had been an item for about a year and I never really knew why, but we just drifted apart and one day we realised it would be better if we went our separate ways. Strangely enough we became good friends and even when she married her Italian banker we had kept in close touch. She had been and still was a stunning looking woman and I sometimes regretted not trying harder back then. She is also great company and soon had me laughing with some of her very dirty jokes. Paul had made a beautiful spaghetti alle vongole with a salad and a homemade tiramisu for dessert. The three of us sat up at the dining table after closing the blinds to the outside. Paul lit and placed candles in my grandmother's silver candlesticks which I forgotten about and they really helped to create a wonderful ambience around the table. The food Paul had made was delicious and time passed quickly. Lisa would as usual hardly shut up and I watched Paul as he listened to one of Lisa's monologues with rapt attention. In fact, he looked as if he might be falling for her. Lisa looked at her watch and announced she had to go because Paolo, her Italian husband, was babysitting tonight and he was so untrustworthy with the children. 'Lisa, that's scandalous, Paolo is a wonderful father and you know it.' He was too, totally devoted to Lisa and their children. 'Hmmph,' was all she said as she stood up. Paul went to fetch her coat and Lisa hissed to me, 'when you're finished with him, can I have him please? He'll make someone a perfect wife.' I threw my napkin at her as Paul arrived with her coat. 'Paul, thank you for tonight, you are delightful, if you'll allow me to say so, and you two make a lovely couple.' I laughed but caught sight of Paul who was blushing furiously. Lisa left after kissing both of us goodbye and it was like a summer storm had come and gone. Paul cleared up the dishes, made coffee and we sat and chatted a little. Paul said, 'I really like your friend Lisa, she's so much fun. She reminds me of Grace Kelly, you know before she got married to Prince whatshisface.' 'What?' I said, spluttering on my coffee. 'She is lovely, but Grace Kelly, I can't see it.' There was a sparkle in Paul's eye and I thought that Lisa had made one more conquest. One last task remained to be achieved this evening. Paul pushed me through to the wet room and helped me onto the toilet in the corner. I was damned if I was going to use their bloody commode. We managed to do this without too many dramas and Paul diplomatically left the room as I did what I had to. I called him back in and he got back in the chair and off to the bedroom. I have always slept naked, except in hospital where I had to wear one of their horrible gowns. Paul got me onto the bed and helped me off with my t-shirt and pants. I thought it would be more embarrassing to have a man do this but with Paul there was a strength and gentleness that was reassuring and unthreatening. 'Goodnight Paul and thank you.' You're welcome Jeff, and don't forget to use the monitor if you need me.' He had brought with him a baby monitor so I could call for help if I needed it. I was glad to be back in my own bed and partly because of that, and maybe the wine and Scotch I had consumed, I slept well and woke refreshed and ready for the day. Paul was already up and I could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen. I am not human before I have had a couple of cups of coffee in the morning, so this was very welcome. Paul knocked on the door and brought me in a mug of black coffee, putting in on the side table. He had changed into what i assumed was his professional working outfit of white trousers and a loose tunic. 'Is black how you like it?' 'Perfect, Paul, thanks. What's on the schedule today?' 'I suggest you finish your coffee and then we should get you cleaned up before physio?' 'OK, but I have to confess this is the bit that I'm not looking forward to.' I was not allowed to shower myself so a wash was all I was allowed for a while. Paul said gently, 'I understand, but I have done this many times and it will be quick and I will try not to be embarrassed.' He said this with a straight face. 'No, I mean I will be emb...' I saw him laughing and I grinned sheepishly, but it had broken the tension. We got me into my towelling robe and made the short wheelchair ride to the wet room. With Paul's help, I managed to sit on a stool and after getting rid of the robe Paul proceeded to wash me with a professional efficiency. The problem was that being washed by someone else is for me a very sensuous experience. I had once been entertained by a Japanese client to a so called geisha bath and had been bathed by a beautiful Japanese girl. That was undoubtedly one of the most erotic experiences I have ever had. Paul was very gentle and the combination of his soft hands and the warm water called up memories of Japan and my cock decided to remember it too. It began to get erect and there was no way I could really hide it. I was beetroot red but Paul didn't seem to notice. It was while he was drying my back that I asked him, 'Do you mind doing this, Paul?' He paused and then said, 'It's part of the job really, and sometimes with clients it's not a nice experience but with some clients it can be enjoyable.' I was watching his face in the mirror as he spoke and I could see faint pink spots on his cheeks as he continued to towel me dry. I also noticed he had a small diamond stud in each ear. I tried to remember if I had noticed that last night but I couldn't recall seeing them. 'I hope you don't mind, Jeff, but I have put my wash gear on the shelf in here, if you wish I can keep them in my room?' 'No, that's fine, Paul. Please consider this your home while you're here.' 'Jeff, thank you, that's very sweet of you.' We fell into an easy routine, Paul would make breakfast then take me for a wash, it still gave me an erection, but he didn't seem to pay attention to it. We then had a physio session, coffee and then I spent time on the laptop or staring out the window. Lunch was followed by another physio session, tea, then work or a 'staring out the window' break, and then dinner. Paul was a great cook and twice cooked me a Thai meal which was fabulous. He was also good company and he would sit with me and chat about his life and what he enjoyed doing. He was an amateur actor in his spare time and had dreamt of turning professional but the chance had never really come along. One morning I was looking out through the window and he asked me what I watched. Rear Window Homage 'It's a bit like a human zoo out there, I guess. Look down there, for example.' I pointed to an office on the first floor. A man was just pulling the blinds and a girl was standing just behind him. 'I think they are having an affair as every day, they come into this room, he closes the blinds and half an hour later he opens them again, and she is trying to straighten her dress.' 'Or that flat over there, a singer lives there and practises in front of the mirror every morning. Or that flat over there, I think she's a dancer because she does a warm up routine every afternoon, generally wearing very little.' Paul smiled and said,' Of course, not everything is what it seems.' 'Yes, you're right, Paul. We don't really know what goes on behind closed doors do we.' For some reason he blushed as I said that. What I quickly came to appreciate were our twice daily physio sessions. Of course, some of it was pure agony as he stretched and pulled and iced me to keep my muscles and joints supple and working as they should. Even those exercises were made bearable by the feel of his soft strong hands stroking and kneading my aching muscles. I rapidly began to look forward to those sessions as the highlight of my day. He promised one day to give me an authentic Thai massage but as that could be very tough it should wait for a while. I noticed that it wasn't just his hands that were soft, he never seemed to show any sign of beard growth and his skin seemed to be in perfect condition. His hair he kept in a pony tail but one day he came out of the wet room while I was wheeling myself to the kitchen, with his hair hanging down and he looked transformed. It framed and softened his features and I could see what Lisa had said about him being pretty. Lisa had popped in briefly a couple of evenings for a quick drink, and Paul visibly brightened when she was around. I thought that he was getting a big crush on her and when he was out of the room getting our drinks I told her so. 'Oh brother,' she said, 'you really don't know what's going on, do you?' 'What do you mean?' I asked but Paul walked back in and Lisa just rubbed my shoulder as if in sympathy. Paul had his first day off on the sixth day he was with me. He had arranged for a relief carer to come in after breakfast and then he would be back later that night ready to start again the following morning. We had our usual breakfast of fruit, coffee and toast as he waited for the relief to arrive, before heading out the door carrying one of his suitcases. Just going to drop off a few things, he said. See you tomorrow morning. The relief was a disaster. He thought of caring as more of a military assault course, barking out orders to me and treating me as some kind of obstacle that had to be attacked, surrounded and defeated. The physio sessions were agony. How this guy was tolerated as a carer I have no idea. He completely ignored my wishes, not that he actually asked me what they were. It was his way or the highway as far as he was concerned. As the day wore on in increasing amounts of frustration I realised how much I missed Paul; his conversation, his smile, his soft hands and his caring personality were things that I had come to value. At the end of the day I was praying for it to end so that Paul would be back. As I lay on my bed, unable to sleep after a horrible day, my mind started to spin. Why did I miss Paul so much? Was it just because of a rough day with someone new? I knew some patients fall in love with their nurses, is that what's happening to me? I shook my head and thought, no, I'm not gay, I can't be, I like women too much. Is Paul gay? Lisa had put that thought in my mind and I really didn't know. Did it matter anyway? I thought it must be just that I'm at a really low ebb and I'm fixating on the one person who is showing me care and attention. I heard the outside door to the flat open which must have been Paul returning. I felt a huge surge of relief at the thought of him being back and I fell asleep almost immediately. It must have been about 2 o'clock in the morning when I awoke for some reason. My leg was aching badly after the physio from Mister Bloody Motivator and I knew that I had to get a painkiller or I would not get back to sleep. I realised with disgust that the bloody relief had left the tablets and a glass of water just out of my reach. The baby monitor was on; it's light blinking in the darkness. I could call for Paul but I should be able to do this for myself, for God's sake. I bum shifted myself across the bed towards the table and reached out for the tablets, when I over balanced and fell out of the bed. It wasn't a long drop but I fell awkwardly and it felt as if I had been stabbed in the leg. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' I heard myself saying. I needed Paul now. 'Paul, can you come? I need some help.' I shouted. Paul rushed into my room and said, 'Shit, what have you managed to do Jeff?' 'Fell on the bloody floor. What's it bloody look like?' Paul ignored my sarcasm and calmly said, 'OK, let's get you back up and see what damage has been done.' Paul bent at the knees to get his arms under my shoulders to lift me back on the bed and as his face came close to mine, I suddenly noticed a touch of colour around his eyelids that looked like eye shadow that had not been cleaned off properly, and there was, I'm sure, also just the hint of lipstick in the corner of his mouth. My eyes widened and I'm sure he noticed my reaction, but all he did was to lift me effortlessly back up and onto the bed. Paul quickly checked and it didn't seem that anything bad had happened, apart from a severely bruised ego that is. He fetched me a painkiller and the glass of water, covered me with the duvet and stood looking at me for a moment. He was wearing pyjamas and as he bent over to pull the duvet up, even in the dim light I swear I could see a hint of lace as his pyjama top gaped open a fraction. 'Are you OK now?' he asked gently. 'Sure, thank you for getting me up so quickly. No harm done I think. I'll be a lot more careful in the future.' 'OK, well I'll see you in the morning Jeff, goodnight.' 'Goodnight and thank you, Paul.' I hesitated and said, 'Paul?' 'Yes Jeff?' 'Oh, nothing really, it can wait. G'night.' I would save that for later. 'Sure Jeff.' I woke the next morning sore and angry with myself. How stupid had I been? I could really have seriously set back my recovery. After I finished feeling deeply sorry for myself, I remembered what I had seen when Paul came into my room last night. Had I really seen it, or was it a trick of the light and confusion because of the pain I was feeling? No, I was sure of what I had seen. There had been traces of makeup on his face and he had been wearing something lacy beneath his pyjamas. Oh shit, I thought. What's going on? He must be gay, for sure. At that moment Paul knocked and came in with a coffee. 'Jeff, I thought that after your night time adventure we should skip this morning's physio session and see how you feel this afternoon?' 'Sure, Paul, if you think that's the right thing.' I was a bit short and he looked at me oddly for a moment and then left the room. Paul returned a little later to get me out of bed for my morning wash. I became much more aware of his close proximity when he helped me out of bed and into my robe. I was dreading the next step which was to get me washed. For the first time I was able to get out of my robe and to sit on the stool unaided. Paul then began to wash me and I said, 'Can I try please, Paul?' Paul handed me the wash cloth and stood back as I struggled to wash myself. I dropped the cloth and angrily said, 'Shit, bugger, arse.' Paul picked up the cloth and asked. 'OK if I do it, Jeff?' I nodded, not looking at him and he started. As usual the combinations of his hands and the gentle feel of the wash cloth across my skim had me cock hardening within seconds. I tried to think of anything that would keep me from thinking about what he was doing but to no avail. My cock was only interested in it's own pleasure, not it's owners embarrassment. I went a deep red and Paul just kept washing and making it even worse. I thought, he's enjoying this, making me have this reaction. I said, 'That's enough Paul, can we finish now.' 'Whatever you want Jeff.' He dried me off and then with my robe on he wheeled me into the living room to the desk. I opened up the Apple and started hammering away at the keys trying to get rid of my frustration. What was up with me, I knew he was gay and there I was getting an erection in front of him because he was touching me. God, what a mess. I couldn't think straight; why did I feel differently now I thought for sure he was gay? He had never been anything else but professional towards me and had not tried anything on. Oh that's fucking stupid, I thought, why does every straight guy think a gay guy is planning to grope him at the first opportunity. Paul had many opportunities to do something but he had not. I really liked Paul before this happened and I missed him a lot when he was away. Was I secretly attracted to him? Is that why I got an erection? Hell, this was so confusing. I had ended up behaving like a complete jerk this morning and I didn't know what to think. Paul came in with coffee and laid it next to me on the desk. I didn't look up. 'Jeff, is there something wrong? Have I done something?' a simple question with a complicated answer. I didn't say anything. 'You seem very upset with me.' I grunted and thought, I have to say something, this is childish of me. I turned round and looked up at him. He looked worried. 'Paul, last night when you came in to get me up off the floor, I could see traces of makeup on your face. Are you gay?' His face dropped and he sat down and put his face in his hands. 'I thought you might not have noticed. Oh God, I'm sorry, I'll call the office and get a replacement for me and I'll pack and leave today.' He looked as if he was going to cry. I felt something lurch in my chest. 'Paul, please just answer the question.' I asked softly, and I hoped, gently. He looked at me and said, 'do you really want me to?' I nodded. He looked out of the window, took a deep breath a said, 'Yes, I'm gay. Have been since I was thirteen. Satisfied?' 'And the makeup, Paul?' He shrugged and said, 'Doesn't matter, I'm leaving anyway.' 'Paul, please tell me, I want to know.' He was still looking away and then as if a barrier had fallen he started to speak. 'Not only did I know I was gay at thirteen, I started to wear women's clothes. First my mum's stuff, and then my sister's. I got caught, of course, and gave it up for while, but I kept getting the urge to go back. Mum sent me for treatment but that didn't work. When I went to college it was bliss, I could finally do what I had wanted to and dressed regularly.' He paused, his mind obviously back in the past. 'I didn't want to dress fulltime, I was happiest when I could choose who I wanted to be. I wasn't sure whether I was gay or bi-sex at that time. I liked men and women, and then felt more and more drawn sexually to men. You would not believe the number of straight men who like to go with a guy in a skirt.' I felt myself blushing but he wasn't looking at me. 'I've been the same ever since, I act pretty straight. I think, but I really like to dress whenever I can given the limitations of my job.' He stopped and looked across at me. 'I will go, no problem, but believe it or not I have really enjoyed looking after you, and I think you did too. So, if that's the case will you please not tell the company what I have just told you?' 'One more question, please, Paul. What about last night?' His shoulders dropped and he looked away again, 'Well, I've told you everything else, so why not. On my days and nights off I go out dressed for the day, I'm passable at the least, and then go to a club or a bar, where I can be myself with others like me. That's where I was last night, just didn't clean my makeup off properly. I hoped you hadn't noticed, but I knew by the way you reacted this morning you had.' He stood and went to go back to his room. 'Paul, please sit down,' I said in as neutral a voice as I could muster. He looked at me and then sat down again. I knew I should ask him to go. 'Paul, thank you for being so honest with me. I have enjoyed you being here and I couldn't ask for someone to take better care of me than you. I admit it was a shock last night and I didn't deal with it well this morning. I apologise to you for that.' I took a deep breath. 'I don't want you to leave; I would like you to stay if you feel that's OK.' He looked at me trying to see if this was a trap, 'Jeff, are you sure?' He seemed to be near to tears. 'Yes, Paul, I mean it, Will you please stay?' I smiled to show him I meant it. 'Jeff, oh yes, I would love to stay, thank you.' I could see his eyes glisten and he wiped away a tear. 'I won't let what happened last night occur again, I promise.' 'Paul, I really don't mind what you do. It's your life; you should live it as it you want.' He was on the edge of tears again. 'Thank you Jeff, this means a lot to me.' I asked him, 'Do you have a name for when you, you know, are dressed?' He looked very shy when I asked and said hesitantly, 'It's Paula, not very creative, but it's easy to remember.' My heart was beating fast as I asked the next question, 'Can I meet Paula?' Where the hell did that come from I thought to myself. He stood dead still, I think, fearing I was having him on. 'Jeff, do you mean that?' I nodded, my voice getting a little thick as I said, 'Yes, I would like to. How about tonight? Would Paula like to come to dinner?' A big smile spread across his face, 'I'll have to check with her first, but I'm sure Paula would love to come to dinner with you.' 'There's just one thing,' I said, my face and voice deadly serious, 'Can I get a fresh cup of coffee, please?' Pau collapsed in giggles and said, 'Coffee coming right up, sir.' The day passed quickly, Paul was his usual professional self and after lunch I felt fit enough for a physio session. This was the first session after this morning's confession and Paul seemed a little hesitant in his massage but he seemed to relax as he sensed I was not at all concerned. His hands and fingers soon had their usual reaction and I almost fell asleep at one point. It gave me time to think. Why had I asked for Paula to come to dinner? Curiosity, I thought, I wanted to see him as his other self. I thought about his growing up years and how confused he must have been. Even now to have child come out at that age must be difficult for parents to handle and the dressing must have made it extra tough. I thought that he seemed to have grown into his skin pretty well. Was I worried about tonight? Yes, I was a bit nervous that he would look like a bloke in drag but I would have to deal with that if it happened. I was comfortable with Paul and I hoped I would be equally so with Paula. The session finished, Paul wheeled me back to the desk with a cup of tea. I had a brainwave and suggested that instead of Paul, or Paula, cooking tonight we should order a takeaway. Paul frowned and asked if I didn't like his cooking. I laughed and said that I loved it but it would be better if I met Paula tonight without her having to cook too. He eventually agreed and I ordered from my usual Indian takeaway. Paul left me alone after that and we agreed that dinner would be at eight, with a drink at 7.30 first. I did some work for the rest of the afternoon and then watched some mind numbing TV for a while. I was nervous and I couldn't imagine what Paul must be feeling. At 7.30 I was doing some people watching through the window as I heard the door to Paul's room open. 'OK, I guess I'm ready.' The voice was somehow Paul's and then not Paul's at the same time. I turned the chair round fearing for the worst and my mouth dropped open. What confronted me was not a bloke in drag but a beautiful woman. If Paul was weedy as a man, he was just gorgeous as a woman. Holy shit, I thought. 'Well, what do you think? I'm Paula, by the way.' I realised I still had my mouth open and closed it rapidly. 'Hi, I'm Jeff and I'm very pleased to meet you Paula. You're absolutely gorgeous.' Paula blushed and murmured, 'Thank you. Can I get you a drink?' 'Scotch please, better make it a large one.' It gave me a chance to look at Paula properly. Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders and she was wearing what I guessed was called a little black dress. It was sleeveless, with a vee neck, and fell to about six inches above her knees and absolutely hugged her figure. My God, she actually has a figure, and her legs were to die for. She was wearing a small gold chain round her neck with a locket, drop earrings, a gold bracelet on one wrist and a tiny watch on the other. She had on dark tights and some very expensive looking heels. I just couldn't believe my eyes and I could feel a stirring in my trousers at was seeing and I had to shift in the chair as I was getting uncomfortable. Paula turned round with our drinks and she came across and sat on the sofa opposite me and crossed her legs. If I wasn't uncomfortable before, I surely was at that point. 'Well, what do you think, Jeff?' I took a moment to compose myself, 'Paula, if I wasn't seeing you with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. I mean you are stunning.' 'Thank you, that's very sweet of you to say so. I was so nervous getting ready tonight, I thought I might have over done it.' Her makeup was light but she had used it to highlight her eyes and mouth. I think she had plucked her eyebrows because there was a definite arch to them tonight. She had used eye shadow that drew your attention to her eyes and she had on a light pink lipstick that made her mouth look very kissable. God, did I just think that? At that moment Paula ran her hand back through her hair and that nearly did for me. It's a gesture that gets me every time when a woman does it. The stirring had definitely become much more than that. Luckily, the door buzzer went and Paula walked across to the intercom and buzzed in the delivery guy with the food. I watched her as she walked across to the door and there was no trace of masculinity in her stride or bearing. She looked as feminine as could be. Paula retuned with the food and she sorted out plates and cutlery for the food and we tucked in at the table. I asked her to open a bottle of red wine and she came back with two glasses. She said she wouldn't normally on a school night as she put it but it might settle her nerves a bit. I told her she shouldn't be nervous, I was delighted to be having dinner with such a beautiful lady. She tipped her head and looked at me out of the corner of her eye and said thank you and that she appreciated it. The wine relaxed us both and we were soon laughing and joking as Paul and I did. From time to time I caught a glimpse of Paul in her but it was obvious that Paula was an individual and much, much more than Paul in a dress. She talked about when she was in Bangkok getting some cosmetic work done; smoothing her Adams apple and some implants on her hips. She had taken hormones for a many years but was now happy with what they had achieved so took a lower dose these days. She pushed her chest out and said quite proudly that they were entirely natural. I had already noticed she had boobs and asked how she kept them hidden as Paul. Easy, she said, they are not big enough to make it a real problem under the loose tunic Paul wore as long as she bound them up in the morning. Same with the hips, it doesn't notice in the work outfit either. Eventually, she stood and said it's late and we still had to get me ready for bed. Even that coming from Paula sounded very different. Rear Window Homage 'Jeff, I want to thank you for letting me do this, and for the way you have made me feel this evening. You have been fabulous.' She stood and moved over to me, squatted beside the chair and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I could smell her perfume and as she moved back from the kiss she paused and we looked into each other's eyes. I felt my heart flip and suddenly this wild thought flashed into my head that all I had to do was move a little closer and kiss her, but I just coughed and said you're welcome and it had been an enjoyable pleasure. She dipped her head once more and pecked me again on the cheek. She wheeled me to the wet room and I was now getting much better at sorting this out by myself. I could feel myself healing now and the collar bone seemed to be getting much easier. Paula wheeled me into the bedroom and helped me off with my t-shirt and then pulled off the sweat pants. Needless to say being put to bed by Paula was very different to being put to bed by Paul. I had a definite erection which Paula could not have failed to notice. She pulled the cover up and leant forward to give me one more kiss on the cheek. 'Thanks Jeff, you are wonderful, do you know that?' She left the room leaving me to think about the sight of her small uncontained breasts through the vee of her dress as she had lent over me. The next morning Paul woke me with the usual cup of coffee dressed in his work tunic and trousers. There was no sign of Paula from the previous evening. The first hurdle was to get washed. I was moving much more freely now and managed to walk from the chair to the stool. I still didn't trust myself to wash properly so Paul took the cloth. Something had changed after yesterday and the washing still felt as good as ever, but I felt no reaction as I had in previous days. All I could think of was that I wished it was Paula doing the washing. We sat and drank coffee and watched what was happening outside the windows. The singer was practising and the guy in the office drew the blinds one more time. 'Paul, do you mind me asking you some questions about you?' 'No, if I'll answer what I can.' 'Do you prefer living as Paul or Paula?' 'Easy one,' he said, 'both. I like my professional life to be as Paul and my after work I like to become Paula. It would make it difficult to work as Paula unless I wanted to transition completely and I don't want to do that, at least not at the moment.' 'So you, still have, you know...' He laughed, 'Yes, Jeff, I have a penis, and it still works, I think that was your next question.' I turned red and said, 'I'm sorry.' 'Don't worry, I would not answer these questions for everyone, but I think I can trust you, so I will. I don't want to lose my penis; I enjoy it for giving and receiving pleasure.' I went a deeper shade of red. Paul didn't seem to notice. 'Paul, if Paula wants to visit again she'll be perfectly welcome to, any time. I liked her company last night.' This time, he can't have missed the blush that seemed to cover me. He smiled and looked me in the eyes, 'Jeff, that's nice, I think she would like that a lot.' Paula did indeed appear that night; she was dressed casually this time in tight jeans, a white fitted shirt and short boots. Her hair was in a pony tail but this time tied high on the head and with a bright red scrunchie holding it in place. Her makeup was light but still managed to highlight her eyes and those kissable lips. I couldn't now think of her lips without mentally adding the word kissable to them. We had a nice evening, Paula cooked pasta and I had half a bottle of Chianti and Paula had a glass. Getting to bed was getting easier as well, I could now get onto the bed myself but Paula still had to slip off my sweat pants. She pulled up the covers and lent forwards to give me a kiss. It seemed natural for Paula to do this. This time though she hesitated for a heartbeat and then kissed me on the lips. The touch of her lips on mine was electrifying. She pulled back and anxiously scanned my face, fearing she had gone too far. I smiled up at her raised my head and kissed her on the lips. I said 'G'night Paula,' and settled down happily. 'Goodnight Jeff, sweet dreams.' In the morning I felt better than I had since before the accident. I managed to roll myself over and get from the bed to the wheelchair without falling over. Real progress I thought. The next two days passed in the same way. Paul looked after me by day and Paula appeared in the evening. I was definitely making great strides and was getting more mobile. I was still heavily dependent on Paul though but I could see a time when I wouldn't need him as a carer and that made me feel miserable. Lisa had texted that she was going to drop round the following evening and when I told Paul he seemed happy enough but there was something bothering him. 'What is it? I thought you liked Lisa, I even thought you fancied her.' He laughed and said, 'I don't fancy her, but she is the kind of woman I would like to be, well not actually be, but she is so funny and beautiful and full of energy.' I stared at him and said without thinking, 'If it was a choice between Paula and Lisa, I would choose Paula every time.' Paul stood stock still and said very carefully, 'Jeff, be careful what you say. You should only say things you really mean.' I looked him n the eyes and said, 'I mean it, and I will show you, why doesn't Paula meet Lisa tomorrow night?' 'You can't be serious, Jeff.' 'I am serious, I would be proud to be seen with Paula, anywhere, with anyone.' I was talking wildly but I knew I meant it. Paul looked long and hard at me and said, 'OK, but I warn you Jeff, you have more to lose than me.' Later that night after we had finished dinner at the table, and Paula was about to clear away, I reached over and took her hand. She looked at my hand holding hers and then back to me. 'Jeff, please be sensible. You can't mean this.' 'I pulled her over towards me, 'Paula, will you please kiss me?' She hesitated and then dropped my hand and ran to her room. If I could have I would have kicked myself. You stupid, lame brained idiot, numb skull, jackass, fool. I called myself every name under the sun. I managed to get myself to the toilet and then into bed by myself. I would have cheered if it weren't for what had happened earlier. I had turned the lights off and had settled down when I heard the door open and a chink of light flashed as the door was closed. I felt the covers lifted and Paula slipped in beside me. Oh my God, I thought, this is it. 'Jeff, do you still want that kiss?' 'Oh yes, I do.' She covered my lips with hers and she pushed her tongue past my lips. I kissed her back and her hands went round my head and we mashed our lips together. She broke the kiss, sat up straight and lifted off her short nightdress and placed my hands on her breasts. They felt small but the nipples hardened immediately under my touch. She bent down to kiss me again and my tongue this time pushed past her lips. Tongues fought a duel as I continued to play with her nipples. She moaned as I tweaked her nipple and that caused her to raise up the bed and she pushed her right nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the now granite hard nipple and nipped it with my teeth. She moaned and transferred the other nipple to my mouth. I gave it the same treatment and she sought out my nipples and rolled and tweaked them between her fingers. I moaned this time and I felt her nip the nipple with her fingernails. She raised herself up and I could sense her looking down at me. 'Are you sure you want this, Jeff? You know what I am and what I've got don't you?' I answered by pulling her down into a long and deep kiss. She broke off and said to me, 'I guess I'm going to have to do all the work here.' She sighed and then said, 'Jeff, do you know how porcupines make love?' 'No,' I said, thoroughly confused. 'Very, very carefully.' She replied. I laughed and then stopped as I felt her mouth envelop my rigid cock. She was a Phd at cocksucking and she took her time; licking, sucking, nipping and stroking my cock and balls, taking me high and then bringing me back down before she finally brought me off. She kept her lips wrapped around me as I climaxed into her mouth. She gagged once and then she must have swallowed. She sucked me dry and then came up the bed to kiss me. I could taste the saltiness of my cum left on her lips. She slipped out of the bed, said, 'I'll be back, don't go anywhere.' She must have gone to the bathroom because when she returned she smelled of toothpaste. She came back to bed and lay down beside me. I wanted to reach out and cuddle her but at the moment that was beyond me. I found her hand and brought it up to my lips and kissed it. I whispered, 'that was awesome, Paula' She reached out her hand, touched my face and stroked it with her fingers. I nuzzled into it and kissed her fingers. She said, 'We'll have to talk in the morning, Jeff.' With that we just lay together and her breathing became slower and she dropped off to sleep. I followed soon after. I awoke to find myself alone in the bed and for a moment I wondered if the events of last night had been a dream. I smelt coffee brewing and with a rush realised that last night had been real. I had slept with Paula in the literal sense of the word if not the other sense. We had kissed and she had sucked my cock. I went red at the thought of it. Did that mean I was gay? Well I had slept with Paula, not Paul. Even I realised that was a distinction without a difference. I shook my head and thought, 'You know I don't give a damn.' Paul knocked as he always did and came in with coffee. 'Morning, Jeff, how are you?' I grunted something. I told you I am not human without coffee. 'Ok. When you've had coffee, can you get yourself out of bed and into the chair?' 'OK, slavedriver.' 'Let me know and I'll come back to collect you.' How could either of us just not say anything about last night? Are we going to pretend it never happened? Was it just a one night stand? I decided to play it by ear and see what would happen. I did get myself out of bed and wheeled myself off to the wet room. I had got myself out of the chair and on to the stool, when I saw Paul leaning against the door. 'Aren't you going to help?' 'Looks like you're doing a fierce job yourself. Do you need any help?' 'No, probably not.' 'Give me a call if you do.' I managed well today and wheeled myself out to the living room where Paul had laid breakfast. We ate in silence and then both of us began to speak at the same time. We laughed and that broke the tension. 'You first,' said Paul. 'Lisa,' I said. Paul smiled, 'Yes, your lovely ex who is visiting tonight.' 'Will you be Paul, or Paula?' 'Who would you like me to be?' I thought for a moment and I knew I should say, Paul. 'Paula,' I said. 'OK but Paula will need a bit more time to compete with a Grace Kelly lookalike if that's OK?' I laughed and said, 'That's fine, but don't tell her you think she's a Grace Kelly clone, because she is unbearable enough as it is.' Paul took himself off to get ready at 5 o'clock with Lisa due at 7. I amused myself by looking out the window and reading a bit. At 6.45, Paula opened her bedroom door and shouted, 'Here I come, ready or not.' She walked out and my heart skipped a beat. This time she had done her hair like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's and was wearing another black dress, sleeveless but with a high neck line and a flared skirt together with the black heels she had worn the first night. She wore a single string of pearls around her neck and a silver bracelet on her wrist. I was blown away. She twirled round and the skirt filled out, 'Will I do?' 'Oh yes, you'll do alright.' At that moment the intercom buzzed and I wheeled over to let Lisa in. She blew in through the door like a yacht in full sail and stated talking straight away. I held up my hand for her to stop. 'Lisa, I would like you to meet my new carer.' I motioned to Paula, who stood up from the chair and walked across to Lisa and shook her hand. 'Pleased to meet you Lisa, I have heard so much about you from Jeff.' Lisa smiled and said, 'Likewise. I'm sorry, I didn't catch you name.' 'It's Paula.' 'Oh hi Paula, that's a coincidence Jeff's last carer was called Paul. What happened to hi...' Lisa stopped dead and stared closely at Paula. 'Oh fucking hell,' she said, 'It can't be can it? Oh shit, it is, you're Paul.' She sat down, looking shocked. 'What the fuck is going on?' 'Lisa,' I said, 'I always told you that you sounded like a truck driver, you still do.' 'Screw that,' she said, 'I need to know what's going on. And I need a drink, a stiff one.' Paula went to fetch a gin and tonic and brought me a large Scotch. Lisa took a huge gulp and looked at me and then Paula. 'My Christ, Paula, you are gorgeous. You look fabulous.' Lisa was recovering fast. 'You are one big bastard, Jeff for pulling this on me, I will never forgive you. Now, will one of you tell me what the fuck is going on?' I told Lisa about discovering Paul's secret and Paula told her about growing up and how she became Paula. Lisa was rapt and for once kept quiet for the whole of the story. She sighed and leant back in her chair. 'Paula, that's one hell of a story, you must have been through some rough times.' She nodded her head towards me and said, 'and this old bastard over here didn't mind?' 'No, Jeff has been wonderful. I offered to resign but Jeff said no, he wanted me to stay. He suggested he meet Paula and then he agreed to let me be Paula when I want. I'm Paul during the day as his carer and then I can be Paula in the evening.' Lisa looked at me over the top of her glass and raised her eyebrows at me. I ignored her but knew she wouldn't let it go. Paula excused herself and headed to the kitchen. 'Well, well, well, what a tangled web we weave. And are you two, you know, dirty dancing? I mean together?' Lisa was never subtle. 'God, no. I mean it's totally professional and I guess we're friends but that's it, you dirty minded witch.' Even as I said it, I didn't think she believed it. 'I can tell you, I know a whole host of red blooded men who wouldn't hesitate to fuck her brains out given half a chance.' I said to Lisa, 'Can I trust you on this, this has to be between us, I mean.' 'Oh sure, I'll only tell Paolo, and naturally it'll be on my Facebook page later tonight.' She saw my face and said, 'Oh, don't wet your pants; I will keep your secret. Anyway, I can't tell Paolo because he would be first in line to have a go at her.' Second, actually. But I said that in my head. Lisa said, 'You know he, she whatever looks like Audrey bloody Hepburn? She's gorgeous.' I smiled and said softly, 'She thinks you look like Grace Kelly, but I shouldn't have told you that.' 'Huumph,' she said, normally a good sign from Lisa, 'but that doesn't make you James Stewart.' 'Paula, I'm coming through to help,' yelled Lisa as she walked into the kitchen. Help, as in interrogate, I thought. The evening went extremely well. Lisa seemed to take a real shine to Paula and before we knew it, Lisa was grabbing her coat. 'Got to go see if Paolo has been force feeding the babies pasta again.' She said as she headed for the door. She bent down to kiss me and whispered, 'Better keep your door locked tonight. Or maybe it's already too late.' 'Witch,' I hissed back. Lisa kissed Paula on both cheeks and sailed out of the door. I needed a Scotch to recover as Paula and I sat and chatted about Lisa. Paula really liked her and especially so when I told her that Lisa thought she looked like Audrey Hepburn. I was in the wheelchair and Paula was on the sofa, her legs tucked up beneath her. It felt really comfortable just sitting with Paula like this at the end of a lovely evening. I finished my drink and wheeled myself off to the toilet. Next big challenge I thought, what happens tonight? I came back out and Paula was clearing away. I wheeled over to her and told her to leave those until the morning. I asked if she could wheel me into the bedroom. She did so and then turned to leave. 'Where are you going?' I asked. 'To my bedroom, of course.' 'Better stay here,' I said, 'it will save me having to wheel myself over to your bedroom.' She smiled slowly, unzipped the dress and let it drop to the floor to reveal just a tiny white bra and knickers. She reached behind her back and unclipped the bra freeing her small but perfect looking breasts. I could see a bulge in the front of her knickers and I shivered at the thought of what that contained. What have I let myself in for, I thought, but my cock began to grow at the sight of Paula's nearly naked body. I was still in the wheelchair and she began to dance closer, her body moving and gyrating slowly and sinuously to some imaginary music. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and brought her breasts close to my face. I reached out for them but teasingly she moved away again and then dipped back into me so my mouth could just touch a nipple. I flicked out my tongue to brush the nipple and she then pushed it right into my mouth and I sucked it until it grew hard. Moving away again she turned round and brought her bum up close, wiggling it right up to my face. Spinning around she dipped the other nipple into my face and allowed me to lick that one until it must have been painfully hard. She stood up, her hips grinding from side to side and slid her hands across her belly and up to her breasts, rubbing and kneading them. I heard myself make a sound from somewhere in the back of my throat. By this time I had a positively painful erection. She dropped to her knees and reached out to slowly ease down the sweat pants I was wearing to let me cock spring free. She looked up at me and slowly leant forward to take me in her mouth, all the while keeping her eyes locked on mine. This was even more spectacular than last night as I could see exactly what she was doing. Her mouth and tongue sucked and licked my cock and balls so expertly that it was not long before I was ready to climax. She sensed I was close and held me back a little and then accelerated her pace until I could bear it no longer. 'I'm coming, I'm coming.' I managed to blurt out before my hips bucked and I unloaded into her mouth. She looked up at me as she sucked everything into her mouth, swallowed, then licked her lip to clean the last of the cum that had spilled from her mouth. Paula slowly stood up and I saw that she was aroused because her cock was pushing out over the top of her knickers. I felt a rush of blood through my head and I somehow felt compelled to reach out my hand to touch her. She looked down and said, 'Are you sure?' I nodded, my tongue too dry to say anything. Paula slipped down the front of her knickers and her cock stood out proudly from her groin, the purple head glistening with pre cum. My fingers brushed the shaft and I jumped as it twitched. It felt soft and warm and hard all at the same time; so much like my own, yet so different. I gently began to stroke it, circling the shaft with my fingers and she began to rock her hips back and forwards so that it slid through my fingers. I looked up and there was a look of pure bliss on her face as I started to move my hand in time with her thrusts, and I could feel it getting harder as she pushed through my hand. I was mesmerised by the sight of her cock, with its glistening purple head and slit staring at me, daring me to go the next step. My mind was reeling at what I was doing and as if entranced I moved forward and my tongue flicked out to touch the head that was so close to me. Paula jumped a little as she felt my tongue and I heard a little gasp from her as she realised what was happening. I looked up to see her eyes locked on mine, pleading with me to keep going. I had crossed so many lines already that I thought another would not matter and I opened my lips and took the head of her cock into my mouth. Rear Window Maybe he could invite Patricia to go with him. He smiled at that thought. Maybe they would let her in despite her age. Of course, it would be a rather odd first date, to say the least. It was a strange thought but it was difficult not to imagine the strange, the unusual, the unlikely and the wonderful as he watched Patricia through the window wearing white boyshort lace front cheeky panties, with scalloped edges at the legs and little bows at the hips (about two thirds of the way down). The boyshort panties hugged her bottom so well. The matching brassiere was even better, as the material appeared to be painted on her breasts rather than just holding them up. He could detect her boobs wriggling beneath the thin lace fabric and, even better, her nipples struggling to push their way through. Regrettably, he never did see Patricia without her panties. He was though treated with repeated displays of her breasts, with which he grew very familiar, and fond. He never grew tired of them. He did though wonder what they might feel like. He wondered if somebody sells fake breasts. Perhaps you could send them a picture and they would make a reasonable facsimile of the respective girl's correct size and shape? He could then feel them as he watched them. He eventually had quite a collection of pictures of Patricia within her extensive wardrobe of undies, as well as braless. He kept them within a password protected computer folder, apply named "My girlfriend, Patricia." Of course, she really wasn't, but they had at one time been best friends, and he could at least imagine her being his girlfriend now, which he did most every night, fantasizing that she was undressing for him on purpose, keeping her curtains open just so he could watch her getting ready for bed. Yes, it wasn't real, but it was still terribly nice to imagine, and it was all that he had. When it came to girls Leon was not terribly experienced, which was really putting it mildly. This was in fact his first experience of watching a girl, in real life, be undressed, and the fact that it was his childhood friend, Patricia, made it all the more special. Leon considered melding the images he had of Patricia with ones he had downloaded from the internet, essentially cutting and pasting her head onto the body of an entirely nude girl. He was getting pretty good at that, and had even uploaded some of his creations onto a website for fake nude pictures of famous female stars. This way he could at least have an imaginary picture of what Patricia might look like entirely naked. Plus, he could give her really big boobs, or just tiny titties. He could have her cunt be shaven or hairy, an elfish slit or thick, wavy flaps. He would do that with movie and television stars, and enjoyed immensely his ability to see everything he wanted to see of some particular famous starlet, having her pose exactly the way he wanted. Such photo editing sessions invariably ended in masturbation. He sometimes even shot a big load right on the screen of the monitor, right on the image of the star, albeit often finding that to be a bit weird, plus messy. But, he never did alter his pictures of Patricia. Somehow he felt that wouldn't be right, wouldn't be respectful. And, besides, he enjoyed letting his imagination govern the image, as well as enjoying the expectation, the anticipation, that perhaps someday everything would in fact be revealed. It was like he was waiting for a birthday to someday arrive, or perhaps even better his honeymoon, when she would finally reveal her body to him, but not actually knowing when that day would come, or if it ever would. He did wonder what a terrible shame it would be to have her one day move out of that bedroom, perhaps even leave the neighborhood, without him ever having been able to see what she looked like, down there, beneath her panties. He came very close one evening to having her secret revealed. Patricia was wearing rather tight white bikini parties. Leon smiled at the sight of a clear camel toe, for which he obtained a very nice close up as she stood facing the window, staring out at something in the darkness of the night. What she was looking at was unbeknownst to him, nor did he really care. He just knew what he was looking at, and it was a very, very delicious sight. It was really quite striking how something so small, so simple, could arouse so much interest, even fascination. Leon had a very nice set of camel toe pictures. This one could be the prize of his collection, as this was a camel toe of a girl he actually knew. Not too many guys could say that. Well, actually, those with girlfriends probably could say that, but there were lots of guys without girlfriends, wasn't there? And then Patricia turned around, presenting her bottom to the window. The panties hugged her derriere so well. Each cheek peeked out from the lower sides of the panties, as if she had purchased a pair that was a size or two too small, unable to fully cover the cheeks, resulting in little crescent moons to appear, complementing nicely the crescent moon in the night sky. That would make for a nice picture, Leon thought, if he could get her to pose for him on a hill in the country. But, this was still pretty good. He unzipped his pants and took out his stiff dick with his right hand as he clicked the camera shutter a couple of times with his left. Thank goodness for the invention of the tripod. Patricia bent over from the waist, all the way over. She was apparently picking up something from the floor? Or perhaps checking her toenail polish? He couldn't, of course, see that far down but that didn't matter, as the view he did have was perfectly wonderful. Her bottom grew rounder and rounder, the panties stretching tighter and tighter, her slit camel toe coming into sweet view, peeking out from between her youthful white thighs as if asking to have her picture taken. He obliged the girl's precious cunt, the shutter clicking madly, his hand stroking equally feverishly. Patricia reached back with her hands, her thumbs hooking within the waistband of her panties. She started to pull them down, very slowly and not all the way. It was as if she was uncertain whether she wanted to pull them down, or perhaps she was just playing a little game with herself, imagining that she was displaying herself to her lover. She paused when they were only half way off her bottom, only the top half of her crack exposed, not yet revealing any of those really special private parts. She turned her head, apparently looking at herself in the mirror. Leon's mind slid again into the fantasy that Patricia was purposely posing for him, teasing him, enjoying her little exhibitionistic displays, her little nighttime show, her bedtime play, knowing that he was jerking off to it, loving the fact that she would eventually make him cum, make him shoot his heavy thick load just by being so pretty, so sexy, so provocatively naughty, so neighborly. Patricia had such a lovely bottom crack. It revealed so very little but promised so very much, as farther deep down within that warm fleshy valley were very personal, private secrets of a very intimate sexual nature. Girls did not open this valley to any traveler who happened along the road. This valley was entered on only very special occasions. Leon begged for more, dying for more, but he pretended that was probably how she liked it. He was getting so fucking close, so close to seeing her inner beauty, and so close to cumming. He wondered if this time he might shoot his load all over his window, providing some rather nice texture and atmosphere to the pictures of Patricia through his window and hers. But, apparently this was not one of those special occasions. Patricia stood back up straight, her panties still just halfway down and she, once again, scampered out of sight, the light going out almost immediately thereafter. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The next day Leon was taking a picture of a rather striking monarch butterfly in the back yard. She was not cooperating very much as she kept flitting from flower to flower. Still, he felt he was getting some good shots. "Leon, still chasing bugs, I see." "What?" Leon tore his eyes from the lens of his camera to see Patricia standing behind the chain link fence that separated their backyards. It wasn't a large fence. It only reached her waist. "Oh, Patricia, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come up." "Leon, don't you even say hello. My goodness, we haven't seen each other in years." "Oh yes, of course, gosh, I'm sorry." In his own mind though he had been seeing quite a bit of her lately. "Wow, you know, it is really nice seeing you again." His face reddened at that remark, as it was really nice in ways she did not realize. He was struck at how pretty she had become. She looked even better up close, with her dark brown eyes, full lush red lips, petite nose, rosy cheeks, and short wavy red hair. Her bangs were pulled to the side by a little orange butterfly barrette. "It really is, Leon," she continued, "My goodness. You certainly have grown up into a handsome young man." That didn't help his face, as it reddened further, but he did now at least have a good excuse for blushing. "Well, um, yeah, I guess, but, geez Patricia, you sure have as well." His eyes briefly went to her breasts, which were tightly encased within a t-shirt that read, "Quit Staring!" The words curved around her lovely round mounds. His face continued to redden. Patricia noticed Leon's brief glimpse of her breasts, and his deep blushing. She thought it was cute. She didn't mind him looking. The t-shirt was tight for the precise reason to draw a boy's attention. She rested her hands on the fence and leaned over a bit, squeezing her breasts between her arms. That provided them with even more voluptuousness. "Do you really think so, Leon?" Leon tried not to notice her breasts, but he certainly did. Plus, he was thinking how nice it would be if she did that while leaning out her upstairs bedroom window, naked. His cock was swelling within his pants. He was so glad he was wearing tight jockey briefs but, just in case, he hung the camera loosely in front of his crotch. He self-consciously avoided eye contact. "Well, yeah, sure." "You know, we used to be such good friends, Leon. Whatever happened?" Leon strolled up a bit closer to her. "Well, I don't know. I guess it was just growing up, you know. It happens." Patricia provided him with a rather flirtatious pout. "Well, I can't say that I like it. Don't you miss me, just one little bit?" That was a bit much, but Patricia did enjoy flirting with boys, and it was kind of nice to do so with her childhood best friend, particularly as she could see how uncomfortable it made him. He was clearly so shy and self-conscious around girls. "Well, yeah, sure," Leon acknowledged. Patricia grabbed hold of the fence and leaned back, her arms still pressing into the sides of her breasts. "You know, we should get together sometime, maybe rekindle the old sparks." Had there been sparks? Leon had not been aware of any. He was though certainly feeling some now. "Well, I'm not sure I want to play all those old games again." Patricia chuckled, "You don't want to play dress-up?" Leon wondered if his blushing would ever stop. Oddly enough, perhaps, he would very much like to play dress-up now. "Well, um, no." He blushed further when he realized she was obviously just joking, but he had answered as if she was being serious. "You wouldn't want to put on some of my panties?" "What?!" Leon was shocked to hear a girl refer so openly to her undies, and it was Patricia no less. She had never said such a thing when they were little. Well, actually, maybe she had, but it clearly had a very different meaning now. Patricia giggled. "I guess you would just like to look at them?" Leon had no response to that. His heart raced. Did she know something? He just looked at her, shocked. What does a guy say in response to that? Particularly when it's true. Patricia dropped the flirtatious teasing. "Leon, I was just having fun with you. Goodness, you look like you swallowed a bug." She let go of the fence, and just leaned against it. "As I recall, you didn't really like dress-up very much when we were kids." "No, no, I liked it," he lied, and then realized he was continuing to stumble in his responses. It wasn't particularly manly to say that he liked to play dress-up as a boy, especially since it wasn't even true. "Oh, Leon, I know you're lying. You hated it." "Well, I didn't hate it. I did enjoy our searching for bugs and butterflies and things." Patricia pointed at the camera. "Looks like things haven't changed much there for you, still collecting the butterflies." Leon chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so." It was perhaps a good point. He thought of pointing out that apparently she collected butterflies on panties. "What have you been up to, besides searching for bugs, of course." "What?!" His eyes widened with concern. He strongly asserted, "Nothing!" Patricia again chuckled. "Leon, geez, don't be so defensive. Are you like some sort of wanted criminal or something?" At the moment Leon was feeling like one. He wondered how illegal it was for him to be taking pictures of her through her bedroom window. He hadn't really thought about that. To him it was just being innocently playful, no real harm to anyone. He now realized that he was going to have to look this up. He smiled self-consciously and replied, "Of course not. I was, um, well, um, I like photography. I plan to become a photographer." "Ooooooh, that sounds very interesting, and creative, like a real artist." Leon smiled. In his mind being a creative photographer was being an artist. But, more importantly, no other girl had ever seemed that interested, let alone impressed. "Well, yeah, it is. I enjoy it. What do you do?" "Oh, nothing as interesting as that. I'm going to Weston College to become a nurse." "You go to Weston?" Patricia hesitated to answer. She was a little embarrassed about that. Weston was probably at the lower rung of higher education, beneath even a junior or a community college. It was strictly vocational training. But, they did have a good placement office, and their graduates did get pretty good jobs in nursing. "Um...yeah." "I go to Weston too! I'm taking some photography courses." "Really!?" She was relieved, and glad to hear that Leon was a Weston man himself. "That's so cool! How come I haven't seen you there." "Well, I don't know. I don't go that often. Just a few days a week, in the morning." Patricia nodded. That did explain it. Her classes were in the afternoon. "Well, maybe if you stuck around one morning we could have lunch?" "Sure, that sounds great." Patricia smiled at Leon. "Would you take my picture?" "Well, yeah, sure, if you want." It's not like he hasn't already been doing that. Patricia stared at him for a bit, a bemused smile on her face. Leon wondered what more she wanted. He had said yes. "I mean now, silly butt." She used to call him that when they were little. "Oh! Oh, yeah, sure, sure." He held up the camera before his eye. This seemed now a little weird. Patricia stepped back from the fence and gave Leon a little modeling pose: left hand behind her head, right hand on her hip. She cocked her hip and thrust out her breasts, like she was posing for some girly magazine. Leon smiled, and swelled. How sweet it would be if she posed like this in the evening, in her window, wearing just her panties. "Do you like this, Leon?" He most definitely did. He hoped Patricia would not realize how much he liked it. He knew she was just being playful. She had posed like this when they were little kids, and it had no erotic implication back then. The pose was so silly she probably didn't realize that he actually found it to be rather stimulating, even provocative. He clicked the shutter a few times. It would go very well with his other collection of Patricia pictures. He could begin with this picture, followed by the others. "Yes, well," he said, after a few more shots, "I'll, um, send you a copy, if you wish." "I'd like that," Patricia replied. As she turned to head back into her house she added, "Maybe you could take more pictures of me some other time?" "Well, yeah, sure." Hopefully that very evening, he thought. Leon waited that evening with considerable expectation, as he had most every evening, but the stakes had now been raised. Patricia was now more real to him, even more interesting. He didn't have to wait too long. She entered the room, turned on the light, shut her door, and for only awhile disappeared out of sight. She soon returned, wearing only a brassiere and panties. Leon had seen this pair before, but he was not disappointed. How could he be? Patricia was wearing her butterfly panties, and matching brassiere. The butterflies were just so colorful and pretty, and they were fluttering and flying all over her curves. He quickly snapped a few pictures, thinking about her pose that afternoon. Imagine if she had struck that pose in just these undies! And, imagine that he did indeed. One butterfly was very still, resting peacefully on the soft rise of her cunnie mound. It was like he had found his home, his source of life sustaining nectar. He got a close-up of that. Now, that was the kind of picture that could win a prize. Patricia pulled the chair away from her dresser so that she could stand right in front of it. She posed like she had done that afternoon, one hand behind her head, the other on her hip, her head and hip cocked, her breasts thrust out. She was apparently seeing how she had looked to Leon, studying herself in the mirror. "Oh my gosh!!" Leon loudly exclaimed. He glanced behind him to check that his door was shut. He wondered if he had locked it. Of course he had. He always now did, worried though that his mother or father might get suspicious as to why. But, they rarely disturbed him this time of night. For all they knew he could be in bed. In any case, even if he wasn't sure that the door was locked he wasn't about to leave the window to check. He returned his attention to Patricia's window and snapped a series of pictures. And, it became even better. Patricia reached behind her, thrusting her breasts out further, to unclasp her brassiere. She let it fall to the floor, her round, white perky boobs coming into view. He had seen them naked before, of course, but it was one thing to see them as she went about her business, it was quite another to see her posing provocatively, like she was modeling for Playboy or something. And then she even pulled down her panties, bending way over to do so, thrusting out her bottom behind her. It would have been even better if her bottom was facing the window, as it had the other day with her panties half off. But he wasn't complaining, as his dick rose up with the falling down of Patricia's butterfly panties. Once her panties were off Patricia resumed her pose, studying in the mirror how she looked as a naked girlie model, one hand behind her head, one on her hip. She turned a bit to the left, and then the right. Each turn possessing its own particular allure. Turning to her right brought into view more of her lovely round, perky breasts. Patricia thrust them out. He zoomed in even closer and got a real nice picture of them. Her nipples were standing up so tall. They weren't sitting right on the front of her boobs. They were up higher than that, pointing up toward the night sky. They were apparently trying to stand up as big and tall as they could for her, trying to make her look proud. She didn't turn so far to the right though that her cunt came into view. Leon saw only a wispy bit of her hair. He could only imagine what he was missing. Rear Window Patricia though did give her shoulders a bit of a wiggle, causing her boobs to bounce and jiggle, a mischievous smile on her face, clearly enjoying her little naughty show in the privacy of her bedroom mirror. Leon wondered if all girls posed for themselves like this in the privacy of their bedrooms. It did seem only natural that a girl would want to know how she looked. What was a mirror for anyway? All girls must pose like a model in front of a mirror at least once or twice, if not quite a few times. She would be naturally curious as to how she would look. She would want to test out how she looked before she actually tried a pose for some guy, just as she checked out how an outfit looked, or a new hairdo. She would want to know if she looked silly in some poses, perhaps others weren't terribly flattering or revealed some flaw. Leon was so, so appreciative that he could actually witness for himself this natural rite of passage for the young lady. Leon though also liked to think that she was imagining posing for him! She had said that she wanted him to take some more pictures in the future. Maybe she was trying out some of the poses she might do for him. He would have to be sure to wear extra tight briefs when, or if, that day finally arrived. Turning to her left brought into better view Patricia's cute perky round bottom. Leon felt that perhaps she should receive a spanking for posing like that in front of her bedroom window. Doesn't she realize that some guy could be watching her?! He parents would be very upset with her about that. Goodness, imagine if her father came in the bedroom right now, all upset and angry at having noticed from the backyard that she was doing this in front of an open window. He would come storming into the room and give her a real good hard spanking, something that a dirty little girl well deserved, and hopefully right in front of the window. He would say that if she didn't mind showing off her body like that then apparently she wouldn't mind letting the world see her get a good spanking! Well, this was at least what Leon was imagining. Thinking about her father looking up from the backyard though made Leon wonder. He tore his eyes away briefly to check the windows on the first floor. The dining room light was out. The kitchen light was on but he couldn't see anyone in there. He turned back to the bedroom window but she was gone. Her little playful fantasy had apparently ended, or perhaps she was now posing on the bed, perhaps with her butt up in the air, perhaps with her legs spread wide open, perhaps even spreading open her cunt with her fingers. He imagined so much going on behind that other window, behind those closed curtains. Leon had been in her bedroom a number of times as a little boy. He tried to recall where her bed was. He thought it was right beside the second window, but he wasn't sure. He glanced back down at the dining room window. He again thought about Patricia's parents, smiling at the thought of getting a lot of pictures of her father giving her a spanking. But he then realized that, of course, her father would be even more upset if he discovered that Leon was watching her, taking pictures of her. A wave of anxiety and panic swept through him. He turned away from the window and shifted over to his computer. He tried to look up the laws concerning peeping Toms. From what he could find the illegality depended upon the state, but generally required that the girl not realize she was being viewed, that she was fully or partially naked, and that the viewing occurred at a location or place where she had a reasonable expectation of privacy. All of these applied to Patricia, or so he figured. But, does a guy have to look away if he is walking down the street and there is a woman naked in a window? Probably not, as she should not reasonably expect privacy if her curtains are open in a window facing a public sidewalk. Patricia's window was different. This was her backyard. But, would he be expected to have to turn away if he was just sitting in his own backyard, watching the night sky and then Patricia appeared in her bedroom? That didn't seem fair. He read that a man in Georgia was convicted for masturbating in front of his window that was visible from a public highway. In contrast, a guy in Pennsylvania was not convicted for masturbating in his house even though he was in front of a window. The complaining neighbor could only see him when looking through a window in her own house. It was all a bit confusing, but Leon figured he was probably on thin legal ice. Waiting for her to appear so that he could take pictures was considerably more invasive than inadvertently noticing her while studying the night sky. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Leon didn't see Patricia the next day. He figured she must be in class. His class wasn't until the following day. Nevertheless, he drove out to the college. He just had to see her, at least somewhere. As soon as he got there he was stricken with ambivalence. What would be his excuse for just showing up like this? This did seem kind of stupid, if not weird. He had no idea where she was. There would be a class schedule though in the library. He went there, cursing himself for not looking up the schedule at home. He needed to find out where the nursing class was. As he entered the library though he saw her, apparently deep in thought as she was reading by the Health Sciences stack. His cock instantly came to life. Was that perverse? Any guy who is attracted to a girl gets excited when he sees her. It was only natural, but this did kind of feel like some sort of perverse stalking. He quickly lifted the camera, focused, and took a picture, his cock getting harder in the process. Photography never felt so good. Just as quickly though he lowered the camera and looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed him taking a picture. A couple persons were looking at him, apparently wondering what he was up to with that camera. Leon looked sheepishly at them, and then made his way to a table, picking up a book as he went. He sat down, pretending to be looking at the text, holding it up high enough to hide his face from Patricia's line of sight. Fortunately she didn't stay in the library for long. He followed her out, all the way out of the building, keeping his distance so that he wouldn't be discovered. Why couldn't he just say hello? She was the one who suggested they have lunch. Well, he knew why. He was just so self-conscious and nervous around girls. Plus, he had no excuse for being there. But, why can't he just tell her that he came to visit her? There was nothing wrong with that, and it was in fact the truth. Well, all the guilt and uncertainty might have something to do with the fact that his interest was driven substantially by his secretively spying on her through her bedroom window. Leon noticed that Patricia apparently wasn't heading home right away. She appeared to be walking toward a shopping area. He admired her outfit, as most any guy would. She was wearing a rather short skirt that waved left and right as she took each step, flirting with the possibility of showing more than just lily white thighs, which was already showing quite a bit. Leon snapped a few pictures. A bottom can be so adorable as it works its way down the street. Patricia stopped, and then bent over to fix her shoe. Her skirt rose up, revealing now most definitely more than just her thighs. An inch or two of bottom cheeks came into view, along with her cunnie pouch. Apparently today was the day for violet lace bikini panties. Thongs might have better, Leon thought, given the current pose. Still, violet lace was clearly very fetching as well. Leon quickly looked around for witnesses. There were three people within sight, speaking to one another. None of them seemed to be paying much attention to him, or to Patricia. He quickly focused his camera and took a couple more pictures. Was this illegal? Did Patricia have a reasonable expectation of privacy while on a public sidewalk? Well, she probably did with respect to what was under her skirt. A guy couldn't be blamed for looking when she bent over, but he really shouldn't take a picture, not without her permission. Leon could perhaps be even charged with stalking, in addition to peeping. Patricia glanced back to see Leon a distance behind her. She stood back up, brushed her skirt, and called out to him. "Leon, is that you?" Crap! Anxiety again swept over him. "Uh, yeah," he replied, waving hello, his heart fluttering. She started to walk up to him. "Have you been following me?" That was an odd question to ask, even if it was true. What girl would think it was true? Was she just teasing him again? Or, did she really know the truth and was about to tell him off. "No, no. I was, um, going to do some shopping. There's a nice electronics store here. They have some photography equipment." It was a pretty convincing lie, or at least so he felt. "Oh yes, I see, you have your camera with you," she observed. "Sure, yeah, of course. Actually, I'm rarely without it. You never know when you might come across a nice picture." Patricia smiled. "Were you taking a picture of me, Leon?" "What? Uh...well...no." It was a lie in a number of ways. "Well, actually yes." Perhaps it was best to admit to at least some of the truth. "I just saw you walking up in front of me, and well, I don't know. I thought it would be nice to take your picture." "You took a picture of me when I was fixing my shoe?!" She looked genuinely concerned. "Oh! No, no, I didn't mean that. I mean, well, just when you were walking in front of me. When you bent...When you stopped, uh, to fix your shoe, no, not then." It was also best not to be completely honest. "Well, you better not have been. Goodness, gracious, Leon." She stepped up close to him and asked, softly, "would you like to take some more pictures?" "Sure!" He instantly replied, and then realized he probably should not have expressed so much enthusiasm. "How do you want me to pose? You pick it this time." Now, this was both a very exciting opportunity, and an equally dangerous risk. Leon had quite a few ideas, none of which he felt he should share. "Well, um, how about leaning back against this tree." "Alright," Patricia agreed, shifting over to the tree, resting her back against the trunk, her hands clasped behind her bottom. It was a common, innocent pose. She smiled sweetly at him, or at least at the camera, through which Leon was peeping at her, just as he did from his bedroom. The camera clearly loved Patricia. She looked so pretty, her smile was so natural, so symmetrical, so perfect. Along with her rose skirt Patricia was wearing a pink cardigan sweater, which draped nicely over her breasts, delineating the soft contours of her curves. Sweaters can do wonders for a girl's breasts. He took a few pictures. "Let me undo a couple of buttons," Patricia suggested, as if Leon would even object. "That will be more sexy." Leon's eyes widened with interest as Patricia undid one, then another, and then even a third, and then opened up her sweater a little, just enough to reveal a bit of her brassiere, enough to see that it appeared to match her panties, as a bit of violet lace appeared. Leon looked around. They were not drawing any attention. It was really quite innocent and normal, as it could just be a guy taking some pictures of his girl, and a girlfriend will typically be a bit sexy in a pose for her guy. Nothing really unusual about that. Leon got a few more pictures. These would go well with the ones in which Patricia was only wearing her violet brassiere and panties, as if they followed this pose for him. Once he was done Patricia suggested, "Here, let me pull this skirt up a bit." She reached down to take hold of the hem and began to lift it up. "Patricia!" Leon warned, again nervously glancing around. Patricia giggled. "Leon, what's wrong?" Her face turned to shock. "Leon! Did you think I was going to show you my panties?!" "Oh! No, no, not at all," he quickly denied, but the protest was expressed so strongly, so vehemently, that it actually suggested otherwise. "My goodness, what kind of a girl do you think I am?" "Really, Patricia, I wasn't thinking that. I was, um, just, uh, warning you...to be careful." "You're protecting my honor," she suggested, smiling appreciatively. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He looked fondly, and lustfully, at her through the lens, her skirt raised, revealing a bit of her panties, and a very enticing part at that. Perhaps she could not tell she was doing so from her particular vantage, as the raised skirt would block her view. But Leon could clearly see a very personal, feminine part of her panties, right where her cunnie mound rose out from her thighs. His cock was now so fucking hard. He quickly took a few pictures, feeling so excited, but for more reasons than one. He was again wondering if he was skirting the edges of some law. Was it illegal for a girl to expose her panties in public? Even if it wasn't she must be pushing the boundaries of what would be considered to be socially acceptable within a public setting. "Let's do one more," Patricia suggested. She got down on the soft grass, sitting on her bottom, leaning back, thrusting her breasts out, one leg bent, the other stretched out in front of her. It was another traditional pose, and one for which the raised knee caused the skirt to slip back into her lap, revealing quite a bit of soft, white, feminine thigh. Leon first took some pictures from her left. These were particularly nice in capturing the curve of her breasts, the sweater falling open a bit further, revealing even more of the lace of her brassiere. Patricia either didn't care or wasn't noticing, her smiling eyes fixed on the lens of the camera. Leon shifted around to get some pictures standing in front of her, facing her, providing a very nice peek up her raised skirt, where her cunnie mound was now entirely exposed, albeit still covered by the tight violet lace. There was something quite special in getting a forbidden peek up a girl's skirt, seeing her most precious spot, normally entirely hidden from view, but now revealed and exposed, and Leon was even getting it permanently recorded. He was though also feeling more and more self-conscious about what they were doing, and how exited he was getting. He noticed that they were now drawing some attention. Persons were glancing at them, apparently wondering what they were doing, what they might be up to. Leon wasn't so sure he was enjoying being the subject of another person's curiosity. Why did they have to intrude into what should really be private and personal! Leon considered asking Patricia if she might get on her elbows and knees, bottom raised. That would no longer have any pretense of innocence. Maybe if he just started out with her on her knees, looking back at him over her shoulder, and then follow that with her falling forward onto her hands? She did say for him to pick the poses. "Hey, I've got an idea." "Oh my!" Patricia suddenly said, springing to her feet. "I've got to run. I've got a manicure appointment, and I need to get my hair done." "Oh, okay." Leon was sorely disappointed. Patricia brushed off the grass and dirt that was sticking to her bottom. She stepped up to him, grasped his arm within her fingers, and said softly, "You'll send me copies?" "Yeah, sure," but he knew he would have to do a bit of image adjustment to cover up the panty exposures. Patricia would surely be quite upset that he hadn't warned her about how much she had been revealing, instead just going ahead and taking the pictures. "Oh, but hey, um, I actually don't have your email address. I didn't get it the other day." Well, that was certainly a good point, and an oversight. She whispered it into his ear, as if it was some deep personal secret. It took all of his concentration to get it correctly, as her soft left breast and stiff nipple pressed into his arm. "You remember that now," she said as she stepped back to button up her sweater. "Oh my, I didn't realize it was that much open." She smiled coquettishly at him. "You didn't get any naughty pictures of me, did you?" "Oh, no, no, definitely not," his face reddening. "Well, I guess it wouldn't really be your fault. It was very naughty of me, to get so carried away." "Oh no, no, it was fine. I didn't see anything." She stepped back up to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then said, "You're such a good boy," and waved cheerfully as she turned away. Leon took a few more pictures as she scampered down the sidewalk, not feeling much like a good boy. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When he got home he looked up the illegality of indecent exposure, and felt that they were probably safe. Like the peeping Tom laws, what constituted indecent exposure varied somewhat from state to state and even across local governments. Exposure of genitals in a public place is generally prohibited, and in some states and places exposure of female breasts is also prohibited, although prosecutions were said to be rare. Some states, if they do prosecute toplessness, may require evidence of intent to offend. In any case, Patricia had done far less than that. Leon worked very hard on the pictures. He so much wanted Patricia to like them, to see what a good photographer he was. He wanted them to be perfect. It was pretty much all he did for the rest of the day and into the evening, and he still would have liked to have worked even longer on them. They were not quite perfect. But, he also didn't want her to go to bed thinking that he had forgotten about it. He picked out the best five, but then considered them a while further before he sent them off. And, even when he finally felt settled on them, he struggled over what he should say in the email. Perhaps just "Here they are." But that sounded too curt and unfriendly, as if he didn't really want to send them. It's not easy expressing the right affect within an email. Perhaps he should say instead, "Here they are, like I promised." Well, he should probably add, "I hope you like them." That sounded though a bit too insecure, like he was worried she wouldn't (of course, he was in fact very worried about that, but a man should never appear so uncertain). Perhaps he should say, "I like these the best." That not only conveyed some confidence but it also suggested that he found her attractive. Actually, maybe he should say, "You really look pretty in these." No, that was coming on too strong. Maybe just, "I think you look nice in these." This struggle to write the perfect email went on for about a half hour. He finally settled on a few sentences, but before he could send them he wondered if perhaps he had not in fact selected the best five. No, no way was he going to revisit that question. He then double-checked to be sure that nothing untoward had somehow slipped into the email, like an additional attachment of one of his personal, private pictures. And, then, his heart racing, his palms sweating, he clicked send. He waited, occasionally glancing out the window. Of course, if she was at the window then she wouldn't be at her computer. He wondered where her computer was. It must be somewhere else in her bedroom. She probably had some desk out of sight of the window. Or, perhaps she didn't even have her own computer. No, that was ridiculous. Every eighteen year-old girl has her own computer. But, no return message ever arrived. Leon was disappointed. Maybe she didn't get it? Maybe he should send it again. No, that would be like leaving multiple messages on an answering machine. Way too needy. Maybe she got it and didn't like the pictures. Or, maybe she wasn't checking her computer that night. That seemed unlikely. Every girl checks for emails at least once each evening. That had to be true. Maybe she was out. Maybe she was out on a date with some guy?! Rear Window He then realized that his expectations, his fantasies, were really getting out of hand. All he had done was take some pictures of her. It wasn't like they were dating. He went downstairs to get a cola, and then returned to his room. He worked on some of the bug pictures he had taken the other day, getting his mind off Patricia. Maybe he should even stop looking through her window. He was getting kind of obsessed over her, to the point of even following her around. Yeah, the more he thought about it, the weirder it sounded. He only glanced occasionally at her window as he worked on his pictures. But, when her light came on he immediately turned his head. Patricia strolled into the room, wearing the sweater and skirt she had been wearing earlier. Leon's cock instinctively swelled. So much for his resolve to stop peeping. It's just so hard to take a position contrary to one's erection. He quickly picked up the camera, mounted it on the tripod, checked the focus, and then snapped a few pictures. He unzipped his slacks and pulled out his stiffening cock. He vowed though not to get obsessed with her. He was just going to enjoy watching her in the outfit she had worn today. It would, of course, be useful to get any pictures of her taking it off, to go along with the pictures he took earlier, and then that would be it, at least for a while. Patricia did not go deep into her room. She stopped right beside her dresser chair, facing the window, and his. She began to undo the buttons of her sweater, just as she had done leaning against the tree. It was a tremendous stroke of luck. She couldn't be in a better location for Leon. His eyes fixed on her sweater, as were hers. Each of them watching each button become undone, one at a time, bit by bit, the shutter of his camera clicking away. When all of them were undone she hesitated, looking down at the unclasped buttons, the sweater now partially open, a little rose bow on the front strap of her brassiere peeking out from within her sweater, but little more than that. Still, it would seem the rest would soon follow. Leon took a deep breath of anticipation. Patricia's breasts swelled with her own deep breath and then she opened up her sweater, bringing into view both of the lacy violet round cups. Leon squeezed the camera shutter, while his other hand squeezed his cock. He had not noticed before the faint rose embroidery traversing the violet lace. It was really quite subtle, yet so alluring, wrapping around the tender, bewitching curves of her captivatingly round, proud breasts. Leon worked his fist up and down his cock. Patricia reached down further, to her left, to unclasp her skirt, and then slowly pulled down its zipper, bending forward a bit as she did, opening up a soft, white, enticing deep cleavage. She let go of her skirt, letting it fall softly to her feet, out of sight below the window's ledge. She stood back up straight, now wearing only her matching brassiere and panties. Leon's camera, and eye, went to the rose embroidery curving along the rise of the little feminine mound. There wouldn't be much beneath those panties but to Leon it would be quite a lot. If only she would, at least once, remove her panties. He promised to avoid her window for a full week if she would let him see it just once. That's all he wanted, that's all he was asking for. Patricia looked a bit uncomfortable, just standing there, for no apparent reason. She looked to her left, to study her reflection within the mirror. She smiled. She could see how pretty, and sexy, she was, how beguiling, how tempting. Keeping her eyes fixed on her reflection, she reached behind her back to unclasp her brassiere. She slowly slipped her arms from one strap, holding the cup against her breast, and then repeated the action with the other shoulder strap. Leon stroked himself harder. Wouldn't it be so nice to cum right now, just as she was about to reveal her breasts. But, wouldn't it be even better to cum just at the moment they were revealed. Or, perhaps better still, when her panties were pulled down. It was always so difficult to know precisely when it was the best time to cum, particularly when one didn't know when or how the story would end. Surely tonight though she would finally complete the show, as she was watching it herself within her mirror. Patricia let her brassiere fall from her breasts, both boobs coming into view. Leon groaned with such yearning, such lust. They were so full, so luscious, so mesmerizing. Patricia gave them a wiggle. Leon groaned again, feeling himself getting so fucking close. Could he really wait for the panties to be pulled down? Heck, why wait. They weren't coming down, at least not for him. They hadn't come down before. Why would they now? If he didn't cum now she would likely soon be completely out of sight, climaxing then would be so anticlimactic. Patricia turned her face to look straight ahead, out the window, seemingly right at Leon. A look of shock suddenly swept over her face. She turned away, and scampered off. Leon froze in mid-stroke. What the fuck just happened? Did she in fact see him? Shit! He suddenly realized how stupid he had been. How so fucking stupid! He immediately leapt away from the window, dashed across the room, his cock bobbing mightily, and turned out his ceiling light. Could anybody be more dense? Of course she could just as easily see him as he saw her! Well, not as easily, as she did not have the benefit of the telephoto lens. But, still, she would see a face in the window, just as he had first seen hers, and would now realize that it must be him, peering through his ever-present camera, mounted for his comfort and ease, on a tripod. That's not a particularly ambiguous picture. He peered through the darkness at her window, now without the advantage of his camera, trying to get a sense of how much she could have seen. Her chair now looked so terribly small. He couldn't make out much of any details. But, he did recognize it as a chair. Yes, she could probably see him and, worst of all, discern the presence of the camera. His eyes went suddenly down to the windows on the first floor. If her parents had looked up from the dining room or the kitchen they could have easily seen him as well, at least when he was right up against the window, which he was apt to do when he was really getting into watching Patricia. His heart seemed to stop. He felt suddenly flushed and sick, as he pondered that possibility. But, clearly they hadn't ever seen him, for if they had, surely his parents would have received an immediate phone call. Perhaps the police would have showed up at his door. And certainly their daughter would have been told to shut her curtains. No, her parents had not yet seen him. He was very, very fortunate in that regard. But, Patricia most definitely must have seen him. She had been looking directly at him! She in fact looked shocked to have seen him. Didn't she? He wished he had gotten a picture. He couldn't really trust his memory of her expression. What should he do now? He checked for an email. There was one, from Patricia. He stared it, afraid of opening it, afraid what it might say. His life could now change forever precisely at this moment. Her parents hadn't seen him, but they might now soon find out, as Patricia tells them, and then goodness knows what they might do. He again felt a wave of panic. He clicked the message. It read: "I hope you liked the show. You are a very naughty boy!" Whoa! She liked it?! She liked that he was watching her get undressed?! Was that really true?! He smiled with a huge sense of relief, and delight. Actually, he could read those two sentences with entirely the opposite meaning. The first sentence could simply be sarcastic. The second sentence was, at face value, an angry scolding. Consistent with this interpretation was that there was no accompanying smiley face, no cue that she was joking or teasing. It can be so hard to infer the affect within an email. The additional symbols were really very important. Plus, he noted, she never thanked him for the pictures he sent earlier. Maybe he should respond by email, and ask for clarification. But, if she was really angry that might just inflame her more. If she was angry it might be best to let her cool off. But, better to be wrong by apologizing unnecessarily than to simply ignore her anger. He probably should send her an email. He looked out his window. Her window was now dark as well. Even if he sent an email tonight she wouldn't see it until sometime tomorrow. He might as well wait. That would at least give him more time to think about precisely what to say. He did not sleep well that night, not well at all. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - He felt better though the next morning. It was clear that even if Patricia was mad she had not told her parents, for if she had then they would have spoken to his parents and his parents would have spoken to him. So, even if she was mad he was clearly being given the opportunity to talk to her about it. Perhaps she would forgive him. He decided to apologize face-to-face. That would be more sincere, more adult, more forthright than an email. Plus, he wouldn't have to belabor the wording of every sentence, with her likely still misunderstanding what he was precisely trying to convey, and then wait hours for her to respond. He spent the afternoon in his backyard, taking pictures. He could have gone to her house, but he kind of wanted to avoid her parents, just in case. He hoped she would come out once she saw him. It was quite a while, but she did eventually come out into the backyard. Leon looked at her nervously, studying her face to see if he could read her feelings, her thoughts. She smiled. Leon smiled back. He was so, so relieved. He dashed over to a bush, behind which he had stowed some flowers he had bought for her. He had kept them hidden as he didn't want his parents to notice them, and ask questions. "Here," he said, "I got these for you," handing them to her over the fence. "Flowers?! Really?! Leon, that's so sweet." She stepped up to the fence to take them. They were not particularly expensive flowers. They were just carnations. But, it was the thought that counts, wasn't it? And, apparently Patricia was indeed appreciative. As she received them she gushed, "Leon, they're so pretty. Oh, I do love carnations." There was a moment of awkward silence. What could Leon say? He didn't know. Patricia said, "You know, Leon, you should really close your curtains." Leon blushed, and looked down as he shuffled a foot. He was trying to figure out how best to articulate his apology. Patrician continued, "Goodness, the things a boy will do in his room when he thinks nobody is looking. My gracious, a good girl shouldn't be exposed to such things!" "What?!" What was she talking about? What had she seen? Well, actually, he was in the middle of jerking off when she looked at him. She couldn't really have seen anything though because his lower body was beneath the windowsill, but maybe she knew what he was doing, by the movement of his hand. This is rather embarrassing, to say the least. "Now, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. It's very sweet of you to buy me flowers, but that doesn't mean I can just forget what I saw." Leon was afraid to ask, but he had to. "What did you...see?" "I never saw that much, besides you taking pictures of me, and doing something else..." Leon's face reddened. He was so embarrassed. "And," she added, "just how much you liked looking at things on your computer. You spend lots of time staring at that screen, Leon. It was kind of boring for me but when you would stand up it was often a rather climactic moment." Oh crap. Patricia had seen much more than he had even been thinking. She had seen him, watched him, looking at porn on his monitor, and had then even seen him stand up when he came. He didn't always stand up, but sometimes he did. He liked to shoot his load onto paper towels and sometimes even onto the screen, right onto an image that had been particularly erotic. Yes, it was pretty obscene. But, what happens in the privacy of one's bedroom is one's own business. Unless, of course, one leaves the curtains open. Leon could feel his heart sinking into his stomach. His legs felt weak and unsteady. His head dizzy. His face flushed with shame. "For how long have you been able to, um...see things." "Oh, I don't know, I guess at least a few months." She had been watching him longer than he had been watching her. "Oh," was all he could muster. "Goodness, Leon, I mean, doesn't it get all over the keyboard?" The color in Leon's face deepened. "Patricia, really, I'm really, really sorry." He felt like crawling into a deep hole to hide. Patricia didn't say anything for a while, smiling as she watched his discomfort. She eventually replied, "Oh, Leon, don't say that. I thought it was cute, and funny." Leon rolled his eyes. That was much better than disgust and abhorrence, but it didn't really make him feel much better. Cute was okay, but funny was not. "And, well..." She lowered her voice and looked around, as if there might be someone listening in. "...Kind of exciting too." "Oh?" Now, that was a little better. "But, I figured I should tell you because, well, you know, my parents might have seen you at some point as well." Now, that would be embarrassing. Goodness, imagine having neighbors complain to your parents that you are jerking off in front of an open window. "Yeah, well, uh, thanks." He felt like such a fucking pervert. He did wonder though why she had looked so shocked last night. Either he misunderstood her expression or she was playing with him. "I was wondering, Leon," she quietly asked, her hands clasped behind her bottom, her body swaying left and right, as if to gently wave her breasts at him. "...if you'd take some more pictures of me." "What, yeah! Sure!" Once again he realized he responded with more enthusiasm than he really should express. "Do you want to come over here? We can take some pictures by the milkweed. It's blooming real good right now, and there's some monarchs on it." Patricia became a bit soft and reserved. "Well, actually, I was kind of thinking that maybe, um, you might want to take some pictures, of me...in my bedroom?" Leon's cock twitched within his boxers. He was wearing boxers and slacks, as he clearly had no reason to expect Patricia would be at all flirtatious, if that's what she was doing. He cursed himself for not being more cautious. "Well, um, yeah, sure." He was uncertain though about one key point. "Like, um, from my bedroom?" That would make good sense. He imagined jerking off while she willingly posed for him, perhaps even opening up her blouse? His dick swelled. He wondered if he could jerk off without her becoming aware of it. "No, silly butt," she replied. "You've already done that, and more than just a few times I might add." "Oh, yeah," he softly acknowledged. "My parents aren't home right now. We can go up to my bedroom." Oh fuck. There was no way he was going to control his cock. "Okay," he agreed, his voice still timid. He told himself that it would all be very innocent as he opened the gate to enter her yard and follow her indoors. If he thought otherwise, if he thought about what this really might be about, the evidence of his excitement would just be so apparent. She probably just wanted to try on different outfits, like she used to do as a kid. But, of course, now she would have him look away when she changed. Leon's eyes were fixed on Patricia's taut swaying bottom so tightly encased in her jeans. How does a girl get pants on that are that tight? Yes, it really couldn't be anything more than just wanting to try on different outfits. His imagination had been getting the best of him. But, why mention that her parents aren't home? That was probably because her parents wouldn't let her have a guy in her room. But, geez, if that is true, what do they do when her parents come back? "What do we do if your parents come home?" Patricia looked back over her shoulder as she was about to open the back door. "Leon, is it important for you to not have my parents be home?" Leon stopped in his tracks. "What? No! No, um, well, you had just mentioned they wouldn't be home. I was just wondering when they might be getting back." She didn't respond. She led him into the house. She immediately went to get a vase in which to put the carnations. As soon as Leon entered he recalled the times he played in this house with Patricia, when they were little. He wondered what kind of play they were going to engage in today. He waited in the dining room for her to return, recalling how they once played tea party in this room. Patricia came back with the carnations in a vase filled with water. As she headed for her bedroom, she looked over her shoulder at Leon following dutifully behind. "Would you like something to drink?" "No, no, I'm fine." His mouth was pretty dry, but he didn't want any delays. He was anxious to get started, although he was keeping his eyes off Patricia's bottom, trying to get his cock to go back down. In his mind he was going through the various components of a camera, but when they got to the stairs his concentration at distraction failed. Patricia walked a couple of steps in front of him, which put his face right at the level of that round, perky butt, which shifted and swayed as it made its way up the stairs. No boy could be expected to ignore that, and his mind naturally returned to the fact that he was headed to her bedroom, to take some pictures, of her. Patricia looked back down at him as she reached the top of the stairs, "Isn't this going to be fun?" Leon nodded. He sure hoped so. As he followed her into her bedroom he shut the door behind him. "No, no," Patricia corrected him. "Leave the door open, so we can hear if my parents come home." That wasn't terribly reassuring, but Leon did open the door as Patricia put the vase on a side table next to her bed, where she could see them tonight as she went to sleep. Leon wondered if he should again ask what they were supposed to do if her parents came home, but he doubted that he would get a straight answer. He was plenty dense when it came to girls, but he was beginning to realize that the game they would play in her room had actually started from the moment she said hello in the backyard, or perhaps even when she had looked shocked to see him watching her through the window. Leon looked around. He only vaguely remembered the bedroom from the last time he was in it, which was many, many years ago. He did, of course, immediately recognize the dresser and chair that stood right in front of the window. He looked through it to his own window across the two back yards. It felt kind of odd for a moment, as if he was having an out-of-body experience, seeing himself from a distance. He turned to his right to see that he had been correct. Her bed was right in front of the other window. If she had ever just opened those curtains he would have been able to see her lying on her bed, doing perhaps quite interesting things beyond just reading a book. But, there were clearly more interesting things now to see, as Patricia was wasting no time in removing her blouse. She had her back to him but what she was doing was very, very clear. Well, apparently his hope, which at the time had felt more like a fantasy, had been right on target. He swallowed what little saliva he could muster. She had said that she had been watching him for months, much longer than he had been watching her, which meant that most to all of the times she had undressed in front of her window she likely knew he was watching her. His dick swelled with excitement. Rear Window As she pulled her arms free of the sleeves of her blouse Leon noticed no strap along her back. She wasn't wearing a brassiere? Patricia turned around, using both arms to protect her modesty. "Now, you won't tell anyone I did this, will you?" "Oh no, definitely not, I promise." He now could see that she was wearing a brassiere, but the strap wrapped around her neck rather than her back. "And, you won't show anyone the pictures or post them on some internet site." "I promise, Patricia." At this point most guys would promise just about anything, but he was being sincere. He had in fact wondered how so many naked pictures of girlfriends get on the internet, and how much of it was with the knowledge and permission of the girl. It made him feel a bit guilty to look at them, actually more than just a bit. Patricia looked into his eyes, gauging his trustworthiness. Well, if you can't trust your best childhood friend, who can you trust? She withdrew her hands, revealing to his eyes her brassiere, which was very sexy indeed. The strap around her neck not only lifted her breasts well but also pulled them together, providing a deep sexy cleavage that was so prominent in her rose v-plunge push-up. Her breasts appeared to be trying to squeeze themselves out of the cups. Any effort to restrain himself from developing an erection was now long gone. At this point he could only hope that she wasn't noticing it. "Leon Jeffries, what is that down there?" Patricia asked, a concerned, troubled look on her face, while pointing an accusatory finger right at the offending bulge. Leon covered himself. "I'm sorry, Patricia, really. Um, I..." He really didn't have any explanation. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, providing them with even more lift. "How do you expect to be a professional photographer if you develop boners every time you're taking pictures of a model?" Actually, Leon had to admit, she had a good point. Frankly, he wondered how lingerie photographers dealt with this problem. But, of course, he didn't really have aspirations for such a career. "Well, I was just planning on taking pictures of nature, you know, things like that." He glanced down at himself, at his erection. It felt so good but looked so bad. Patricia giggled. "I'm not mad, Leon. I think it's actually cute. You clearly find me very exciting, don't you." She stepped up to him, reached out, and briefly caressed the bulging tip with her finger. Leon's eyes bulged as much as her boobs. His cock had never been happier, or more excited. "Yes," Leon smiled. "Yes, I do." That was quite the understatement. "But," she warned him, "Don't think you're going to be able to use that big nasty thing on me. I'm not that kind of girl." "I understand," Leon said, albeit not really. Apparently, Leon thought, she was a bit of a tease, but right now that was alright with him. Right now she could be or do just about anything and it would be alright with him. He raised the camera to take a picture. "No! No!" Patricia squealed, waving her hand at him. "Not yet. I want to get ready." Apparently in this case the model controlled the session, not the photographer. Leon lowered the camera. Of course, it was understandable that she wanted to check her hair, her lipstick, her make-up. These could be pretty important pictures. Leon smiled as he watched his model prepare for her photography session. He appreciated her effort most when she was getting dressed, or more accurately, undressed. Patricia slipped off her shoes and then worked on undoing her jeans. Leon's earlier curiosity over how a girl gets into such tight jeans was explained by the considerable difficulty she was now having getting them off. She had to keep pulling, twisting, and squirming. It was kind of funny, as well as adorable. He would have loved to take pictures of that, but he had his orders. When she finally got them to her thighs she fell back onto the bed, raised her legs, and said, "Well don't just stand there, help me get these off." "Sure," Leon said and, still holding the camera, took hold of each pant leg, helping her wrestle the jeans off. He suppressed a smile as he helped to wrench the jeans from her body. He was actually pulling the pants off of a girl. He really should have a video camera. Leon wasn't too sure what he should do with them once they were off. He folded them up and turned away to lay them on her desk chair, where he observed her computer. When he turned around Patricia was posed on her bed, facing him, on her knees, her bottom resting on her heels, her hands clasped in her lap. She had a sweet, innocent smile on her face, which contrasted so well with the fact that she was in her undies, her low-cut, push-up brassiere provocatively displaying her breasts. She asked, "Is this nice?" "Yes, yes it is," he acknowledged, and then took a series of pictures from various angles, Patricia following his every movement with the camera, always presenting her sweet, pretty smile, albeit repeatedly stealing glances at his cock, whose continued stiffness encouraged her gay expression. She eventually suggested, "Get a close-up, you know, of just my face." "Sure, sure," Leon agreed. He got onto the bed with her, on his knees, and focused the lens for a good close-up. She had such lovely wavy red hair, the bangs pulled away by a sparkly rose-colored flower barrette. Her large, round dark brown sultry eyes filled the lens. She did have very pretty eyes, and such a naturally comfortable smile. The pictures though were not that easy to get, for as he was getting the right focus he suddenly felt the tips of her fingers again caressing his knob. He lurched out of surprise, as well as the immediately intense stimulation. "I'm helping you steady the camera," Patricia suggested. She was kind of doing just the opposite, but that was fine with Leon. He would be happy to take quite a few of these close-ups, especially if they continued on through to a certain particularly portentous moment. But, well before that time would come Patricia shifted away and got onto her hands and knees. "How about this pose?" "Yes," Leon quietly agreed, his voice now a bit breathless. He started to get behind her but Patricia corrected him. "No, silly butt. Get a picture in front, so my face is in the picture. Why would I want a picture of my bottom?" He didn't explain that he would rather like a nice picture for himself of her butt. He moved though to get in front of her, which necessitated her shifting a bit as well, as she had been facing the window. He had to admit that this was actually a good angle, as she smiled prettily into the camera, the cleavage within her brassiere opening up further, her bottom rising up behind her like two luscious orange hillocks that would be so wonderful to climb. One could only imagine what she looked like from behind, and sometimes having to imagine was just as good as knowing. She bent over even farther, onto her hands and elbows, looking up at him so gaily, so innocently, with her chin resting on her hands, her pantied bottom sticking up so high behind her. Leon had to lean forward a bit himself to make sure that the tip of his stiff knob wasn't in the frame, albeit he did take one precisely with it there, the round knob seeming to touch the tips of her lips. "Okay," she allowed, "you can take one from behind now." He shifted around to her behind, wondering if she would also take one herself from there, a big grin appearing on his face. Patricia had such a cute perky little round tush, and it was so wondrously colorfully wrapped in her tight rose bikini panties. Her cunt bulged between her thighs as obviously as his dick did within his pants. "Look back at me," he suggested. She did as he instructed, smiling up at him as he enjoyed her rather lewd pose, presenting her bottom up in the air, a position that suggested only a couple of things, both of which were rather naughty. As he took his pictures she reached out with her foot, and lightly caressed and teased his knob with her toes. This time he eventually pulled away, getting a bit worried that he would not be able to make it through this photography session without having a rather embarrassing accident, enjoyable as it might be. When he seemed to have enough, Patricia shifted around in the bed to sit on its edge, facing him. She asked, very quietly, "Would it be alright, Leon, if I took off my brassiere and panties?" Leon's heart raced. "Yeah, yeah, absolutely." Could this really be happening? "But, you know, I've never shown it to a boy before." She didn't specify what she meant by "it" but Leon understood. However, she wasn't being entirely truthful. She had already been with a boy, actually more than one. But that was something she felt Leon didn't really need to know, at least not right now. "I've already seen it," Leon claimed, referring to when they were just kids. "No you haven't!" Patricia objected, but with a smile on her face. "I never took off my panties back then." Actually she was probably right about that, as best he could remember. She reached behind her back for the clasp of her brassiere, but then asked again, "You definitely won't show anyone these pictures." "Yes, I do really promise." The promise though was not enough. She also wanted something else. "You have to take your clothes off too." Whoa! On the one hand that was clearly a fair deal. Plus, what boy doesn't want to get naked with a girl. But, Leon did hesitate. He would feel a bit silly standing there, naked, with a stiff dick, while taking pictures of her. Still, quite a small sacrifice to pay for what he got in return. "Um, okay...sure." "You can put your clothes over there," she suggested, on the chair in front of the dresser. Leon set the camera down by her computer and walked over to the chair and began to undress, his back to Patricia. He had not yet taken his clothes off in front of a girl before. He felt he really had nothing to fear, at least that was what he kept telling himself. He was in pretty good shape. But, he couldn't deny feeling quite nervous about it. What boy wouldn't feel at least a little bit nervous. Is a guy any more exposed than at the moment he first takes off his clothes for a girl? He was at least comforted by the knowledge that she hadn't shown herself to any other guy before. That would suggest that his would be the first she had seen, in real life. She would have to be impressed. After he took off his shirt and shoes he looked to his right and realized that he was standing right in front of her open window. He looked back at her. "Shouldn't we shut the curtains?" Patricia smiled, leaning back in her bed, still wearing just her brassiere and panties. "Now you want them shut? Gee, I wonder why." The shoe was apparently on the other foot. She smiled mischievously, "No, I think that's really only just fair." Leon looked out the window as he undid his belt and slacks. Well, at least there wasn't anyone in his bedroom, nor could he see anyone in the backyard. He slipped his hands over the waistband of both his boxers and his slacks and began to pull them down, his face turning red over the fact that his naked butt was poking back at Patricia. She giggled in appreciation. "You have a very cute little bottom, silly butt," she said, both complimenting and teasing him. Leon stumbled a bit as he worked to get his feet out of his pants legs, his hard cock bopping and waving. At least she couldn't see that, although anyone outside looking in could see it. He again looked out the window as he took off his shirt, still feeling reasonably safe but not really knowing for sure. It was harder to see into a home when it's daytime. But, what if his mother came into his bedroom right now and looked out his window to see him fully naked, across the yards, with a raging hard-on. He quickly finished undressing and, feeling very naked, turned around with his hands covering his cock, and made his way back to his camera. "You have to take your hands away, Leon," Patricia admonished. He knew that was true. He was just trying to put it off. He pulled his hands away and reached for his camera, trying to look nonchalant, as if nothing unusual was going on, despite the fact that he was entirely naked with a raging hard-on, with a half-naked girl watching him. "Oh my," Patricia said as Leon's hard, stiff dick came into view. "You are a very big boy now, aren't you, Leon." Leon didn't say anything, but he did smile. Those were the words a guy likes to hear from a girl, and he had no reason to think she wasn't being sincere. "Okay, now," he said, as he aimed his camera at her, his stiff dick pointing the way. "It's your turn." "Are you really going to make me do this?" It was in fact her idea. "I took my clothes off." "You're so mean." She pretended to pout as she stood up and reached behind her back to unclasp her brassiere. Leon began taking pictures. Patricia smiled for the camera, and for Leon, as she slipped her arms from out of each strap, all the while keeping the cups pressed against her chest. When both arms were free she looked into the camera, bit her lower lip, and let the brassiere fall to the floor. Springing into view were those luscious white perky round boobs, the nipples sitting up high, the curves so lovely, so sweet, so clearly very squishy. "Do you like them?" Patricia asked. "Oh yes, very much," Leon responded, as sincere as he ever felt in his life. He so much wanted to grab his cock, but somehow he felt that would be rude. "You don't think they look funny cause they're, well...different from each other?" He furrowed his brow through the lens. He studied them. Goodness he suddenly realized, she was right. He hadn't noticed it before. His vantage, when she wasn't wearing a brassiere, was typically from the side. In any case, the left one, her left, was a bit smaller than the right one, and it pointed a bit more toward the left. Well, apparently Patricia did not have the completely perfect body? He lowered the camera. "Patricia, I hadn't even noticed that before." Patricia gave him a look of annoyance, as any girl should when hearing that a boy had been window peeping, getting peeks at her naked breasts. But she wasn't really upset. She just felt that she should at least feign being troubled, if she was to be respected as a good girl. Plus, she just liked teasing him. Oops, Leon thought. He had just admitted to having seen Patricia's naked boobs through her window. Well, it wasn't like it was a secret at this point. He suggested, "I think it makes them look more special, more unique." That was pretty lame, but it was all he had. "Really? You really think so?" "Sure!" She smiled. She sometimes felt that way but usually rejected the notion as being self-serving, if not absurd. It was nice hearing a boy say it. She reached for her panties. Leon admired even more how Patricia's breasts appeared to fill up as she bent forward to pull her panties off her bottom. They swung and swayed like true udders, begging to be squeezed and milked. His hands though felt so terribly deprived, not being able to stroke his cock or fondle Patricia's breasts. He did at least take the opportunity to take some rather nice pictures. Patricia pulled her panties off her bottom and down her thighs, and then let gravity finish the job, the delicate rosy lace gathering around her ankles. She carefully stepped out of them, her hands continuing to protect her modesty by hiding her cunnie. She was still quite ambivalent about revealing that, understandably so. Leon had seen most every other part of her. It was a rather big step to show him her most personal feminine spot. She suggested, "You know, I should be able to take some pictures of you." "What?!" Leon most definitely hadn't been expecting that. Patricia hadn't actually given much thought to such an idea. It just kind of popped out of her head as she hesitated to reveal herself. But, now that she had said it, it did make very good sense. "I mean, why should I be the only one to have her picture taken?" Leon didn't have a counter-argument, or at least one that even he found compelling. He just knew that he didn't much care for the idea. "Well, it is my camera." Why would he want to have naked pictures of himself within his camera? That sounded rather self-centered to Patricia, but she did have a good response. "That's fine, I can use my own camera." "Oh! No, no, that's fine. You can use mine." If it was to happen he would prefer that the pictures be within his possession, but he knew full well that she would want them sent to her. "Goody!" she replied. She reached out with her left hand to take the camera. He reluctantly gave it up. She used both hands to hold it up to her eye, asking "How do you focus it?" As her hands reached for the camera Leon's eyes had immediately gone to Patricia's beautiful, engaging, and enticing slit, his eyes widening with rapt interest, his cock twitching with lust, as he explained, "Use the third ring on the lens. The first is for aperture." How could anything so fucking erotic be so simple, he thought. "The second is for depth of field." Her vagina consisted simply of a delicate crack traversing a little mound of soft white flesh, but it was so fucking hot. "The third is for focusing." Patricia smiled. "What?" It was too much information to absorb. She just had one of those throw away cameras. Leon tore his eyes away from Patricia's cunnie crevice to help her with the camera, stepping up close to her side. He patiently explained its mechanics. Patricia though was not paying much attention. She was listening to him, but she was looking into his eyes as she was pressing a naked breast into his arm while her left hand reached down to fondle and caress his erection. She had felt a few cocks before, but this one had considerable sentimental value, being the stiff hard penis of her childhood most very best friend. She had never imagined handling Leon's hard cock before. It was kind of neat to be doing so now. She could tell that she still had a strong fondness for him, and he clearly did for her. "Now, Patricia, you have to pay attention." The concentration was difficult for Leon as well, to say the least. He much preferred Patricia play with his cock than teaching her how to use a camera, but he wouldn't want her to somehow damage it. "Oh, okay, I'm listening," she said. She dutifully focused her eyes on the camera and paid better attention to what he was saying, but she didn't take her hand away. She continued to hold the top of the shaft with her fingers as her thumb lightly, absentmindedly, traced around the knob. Leon explained the workings of the camera again, but this time confined his instruction specifically on the focusing. If he tried to teach her more he was likely to shoot off his load. Patricia eventually announced, "Okay, I've got it now. Why don't you stand over there, by the window and I'll get a picture of you." "By the window?" "Yes, yes. I think the lighting will be very effective there." Leon didn't debate the aesthetics. He dutifully made his way to her dresser, where he had originally taken off his clothes, his stiff dick bobbing like a fishing rod. "No, no," Patricia corrected him again. "Get over right in front of the window." Leon looked at her suspiciously. Was she really trying to have him expose himself to somebody outside, perhaps even his parents? That wouldn't make much sense, as she would get into just as much trouble, perhaps even more. But, he did move around the chair to stand right next to the window. Patricia was just playing with him, enjoying the fact that he clearly found it uncomfortable to be exposing himself, which was only fair given his own voyeuristic enjoyment of her through the very same window. "Stand with your arms up, like you're a body-builder, showing off his muscles." Rear Windows Ch. 1 Shelly could see him. He couldn't see her and that was the way she liked it. Technically, he could see her through her loft windows if she were standing right at them. But, he never looked up and she always concealed herself when she peered down into his many and opened shades. He was her home entertainment center. Shelly had moved to this city only a few months previous. Her new job was good but she interacted with coworkers very little and had no friends yet. She was looking down at him now. It was a special night at his apartment. He had a girl with him. The best part was they were on his couch, which directly faced the window, where she had the best view. He had his strong, tanned arm around the blonde girl as they watched his television. Shelly laughed to herself viewing him as he took sips of his beer and mustered up courage to kiss the rather busty lady next to him. He finally made his move by taking the blonde's face in his hand and placing a first, gentle kiss on her lips. She returned his kiss and let him slide his hand on her breast. Shelly took a good grip on her window frame with one hand so she could finger her clit. Her nipples rose to full hard-on as he chewed on his lover's nipples below. He pushed the girl onto her back. She rose her arms above her and spread her legs wide after he shoved up her skirt and pulled off her panties. Her nuzzled his face in her naked breasts as she held his head. He fumbled beneath his torso and slid his cock in her. She arched her back and let him pump away at her. He pulled the blonde up and turned her around so that she leaned against the middle of the back of the couch. Shelly's cunt was red-hot and she had half her hand up her pussy at the sight of her voyeur boyfriend when he drilled his tool in the bleach babe's cooch and dog-fucked her. Shelly was hypnotized by his ass with tight buns that bobbed to and fro against the jiggling ass of blondie. Shelly gulped when he took his rod out of the girl's cunt and began to massage its tip around her butthole. The blonde turned in slight protest to him but he kissed her neck and rubbed her twat and must have said something right because she turned to reveal her backside to him. She gripped the couch and pursed her lips while he tried to work his dick head into her asshole. Shelly let visions of him ass-fucking her fill her head as she saw him throw his head back when he had gotten the whole of his cock head in the blonde's buttcakes. Shelly could almost feel his nice, pretty meat stick shimmying it's way up her poop shute. She was sure she could hear him moan in pleasure at the sight of his wiener working up the woman's ass. Shelly for sure knew she heard the blonde bitch yelp and buck the poor boy off of her butt. The mean girl began quickly putting her clothes back on and shrugging off the apologetic advances of Shelly's window friend. Shelly felt so sad for him as he meekly watched the bleached bitch yell something at him and slam his door shut after her exit. Shelly closed her eyes and played the events over in her head, but replaced the blonde whore with herself. Shelly imagined how she would show him what to do and how to move. She envisioned the groans of pleasure she would hear from him when he finally got what he wanted. She came in a bombastic, orgasmic rush from playing the ass-fucking fantasy in her mind. When she stopped shuddering from the swells of ecstasy and opened her eyes she let out a high, short scream. There he was. Her lover through the window below. The handsome man who never looked up. He was looking up at her! He saw her! ...Stay tuned for Part 2 of Rear Windows. Rear Windows Ch. 2 He saw her! There he was totally naked, looking up at her through her tiny loft window! After Shelly realized what was happening, she swooped down on her floor. Damn! She thought. Now she wouldn't ever be able to peek at him in private anymore. Now he would probably shut his blinds and deprive her of the only social life she had since she moved to this stinking town. Humbly, she slithered to the front room so she could stand without him seeing her from below. Shelly plopped down on her bed and played what she just saw over in her head. Her special peek-a-boo boyfriend from the apartment below her loft had just bounced his balls up against some blonde bimbo's butt. Shelly had rubbed her clit silly as she peeped in at them from her little window. He had fucked the chippy from on top and doggy-style. Then the poor boy had tried to sneak his prick into her back door and the bottle-bleached bitch got mad and split. Shelly got hot and tweaked her twat to an orgasm and when she came to, her voyeur beau was looking straight at her. This of course, got Shelly hot again so she fingered her flower and fell fast asleep. When she awoke, she was glad it was Saturday. She always passed the guy when she left for work on weekday mornings. He always greeted her with a nod and she nodded back. Before the "sighting", many was the time she had to stifle a giggle after she passed him. He did such silly things. He had no idea someone knew he would tear off a small piece of paper from a napkin or candy wrapper and pop it in his mouth to chew it. Shelly knew this small stuff and it made her giggle. Now, how could she face him when she stepped out the door of her building Monday through Friday? And her double cappuccino with hazelnut syrup! She got one every Saturday morning at the coffee shop two doors down from her place. He was always there when she went. What a dilemma! She really craved those cappuccinos. Wait a minute! A thought struck her. She always went there at about the same time, just before noon. She looked at her clock. It was 10:00 am. Maybe if she went now quickly, she could avoid him and get her yummy treat. She debated as she dressed in a tank top, sweat pants and thongs. She ran a brush through her hair and splashed water on her pretty face. She grabbed her wallet and keys and bee-lined it to the coffee shop. She let out a relieved sigh after she entered the shop, scanned its petite setting and found no sign of him. She loved this place. It was all covered in peach tile and seafoam green floors and ceilings. The coffee bar was to the left with small tables filling the remaining floorspace. She walked up to the barrista who knew her and was already pulling down the lever on the espresso machine to make her cappuccino. She laid down her money and they exchanged greetings. She took her hot, foamy coffee drink and almost made it out the door when she was stopped short by the silhouette of a familiar man piercing the sunlight shining in the shop door. Shelly froze. Her eyes grew big and her heart began to race. She fought the urge to back up when he slowly headed to her. He had a solemn look on his face as he dipped his head down and spoke to her. "Well". His eyes glinted a bit as he flashed them at her. "I guess we should introduce ourselves. My name is Don". He stuck out a rugged hand and planted his eyes right on hers. She noticed how kind his face was and took his hand. She felt a jolt of energy at his touch and from his expression he had felt it too. "M-my name is Sh-shelly". She stuttered out. Suddenly she flushed and blurted: "I'm am so ashamed! I don't know what got into me. I'm new in this town and I don't know any body. And I'm...I'm just so sorry"! He shushed her and put his arm around her and it felt good. "It's perfectly human. What you did". He was smiling sweetly as he assured her. "In fact. I was hoping that since you know what went on last night..." He bowed his head and blushed. "Maybe you could give me some advice? You know, from a woman's point of view"? Shelly let a grin cross her mouth as a twinge of lust hit her pussy. Advice hell, she wanted to give him lessons. She coyed up and told him: "Well since you forgive me, I guess I owe it to you to help you in anyway I can". She looked down at his crotch and remembered how nice and healthy his cock looked from her window. He caught her again with his eyes and a grin. "Let me get my hazelnut cappuccino and maybe we can go to my place and talk"? Shelly couldn't believe this great guy was so close to her. "I'll follow any man that drinks such a great drink". She lifted her cup to show him she had ordered the same. Don got and paid for his coffee and the two walked out the door of the shop. They walked the three doors down to his apartment building. They discussed the weather and the neighborhood and other small stuff all the way until they got inside his apartment. Shelly was a bit quiet when she realized she was seeing it from Don's perspective and she felt a little bad. Don picked up on her mood and directed her to sit on the infamous couch where he had screwed the blonde last night. He reassured her she was absolved of guilt and then posed his question: "Last night. You saw what I was trying to do with that girl"? Shelly nodded and their eyes locked. He darted his away and continued. "Am I doing something wrong? Should I stop trying? I mean, don't some women like"? He shyly looked at Shelly: "Do you"? She was sure her face was bright red as she answered: "Well, it has to done um, slowly. Um...You have to um..." They stared at each other and she could feel the excitement between them as if it were a thing. She mustered all the courage she ever had and told Don: "Why don't I just show you"? With that he planted his hot mouth on hers and pushed her on her back onto the couch. He kissed her neck and pulled up her tank top. Her bare breasts pleased him and he sucked on their big, puffy nipples. He pulled her sweatpants down to reveal her lack of panties. She purred as he covered her cunt with his mouth and teased her twat with his tongue. He knew just where her joy button was and worked it until she swelled in orgasm. She moaned a pretty moan and whispered to him: "Get some lotion". He obediently got up and disappeared into his bathroom. He came out and stood before her with his raging hard-on and a bottle of hand lotion. She took it from him and laid it to the side. She took his cock in her hand and wrapped her lips around it and pumped his pud with her pretty pouter. When he was good and happy, she smiled and turned around on the couch so her cute fanny faced his fuck stick. "What you need to do is fuck my pussy first". She pushed her ass up at him. He grabbed it by the cheeks and slammed his dick in her hot little twat. "Now baby". Shelly instructed with pleasured tones: "Take some of that lotion and put it on your finger and stick it in my ass while you fuck me". "Yeah". Don replied gratefully. He squeezed a dollop of lotion from the bottle on his fingers and then worked the middle one into Shelly's tight, pink asshole. "You want me to work it huh? I'll work it". He pounded her pussy hard as his digit jutted in and out of her bunghole. Shelly gripped the back of the couch with one hand and massaged her clit with the other. Her asshole throbbed at his finger fucking. "Yes Don! That's it! Shelly panted to him. "Warm it up baby! Warm it up for your dick"! His thrusts coming strong and firm he begged her: "Now? You want it now? You want my cock in your ass"? "Yesss. Now"! She cautioned him: "Go slow baby. A little at a time. Bury your bone in my back yard slow"! There was a shudder as he slid his cock out of her pussy and squeezed lotion on her ass. He took his rock-hard rod in his hand and worked the tip in her booty. She arched her back and told him to rest it there for a bit. He rotated his hips until she relaxed and then gradually, he got his cock was all the way up her ass. "Now, fuck my ass". Shelly grunted. Don pulled her butt cheeks apart, pulled his cock out to the edge of her bootyhole and slammed it back in. The sound of his trunk slapping her ass filled the room as his tool filled her fanny. He banged her butt until his dick stiffened and shot a hot load in her ass. "Oh Shelly! Oh yes"! He yelled, slapping her butt as his cock jerked in her asshole. He threw his head back and let out a slow groan and took her by the waist. He picked her up and threw them both backs down on the couch. Her on top of him and his bone still in her backyard. He held them there like that until he was hard again in her butthole. Then he ass-fucked her again. She spent the whole night there. They butt-banged in every position he could dream up. He was very grateful. She saw him occasionally after that. When they did he always ended up with his cock in her asshole. She was beginning to like this city now. From her rear window, it was one big, free backyard.