2 comments/ 50841 views/ 5 favorites The Lady & the Voyeur By: ladyphoenix He'd made love to her a hundred times. He'd held her, opened the delicate seam of her lips with his tongue; delved into the mysteries of the sweet fire in her mouth as no other man had ever done. He'd had her on the stairs; the kitchen counter, in the gazebo during a hard summer rain. They'd taken long, luxurious baths together, laughing in the bubbles until she'd straddled him in the big tub, sinking down onto his hard shaft and turning his laughter into thick moans of pleasure. And she'd cum for him, all silk and fire and liquid heat for his hands and mouth and cock. But tonight, for the very first time, he was going to see her. Walking along an alley that her directions said would lead him to a 7-foot high privacy fence, Jack smiled at the thought. She had asked him in her erotic email invitation to take this route, parking three streets away from and behind the home she was caring for while a friend was on vacation, and taking the simple twists of several connected alleyways to find her. Finding her, he thought, had been nothing less than a miracle. Meeting in 12-point New Times Roman type on a cold computer screen in a chatroom where thousands of people no doubt wandered in and out, what were the odds that he could have found someone so...perfect? He'd been online for six months when she'd come along, fairly savvy about most things in modern cyberworlds, and surprisingly fairly jaded...wondering if all he would ever find would be hot, fast, nameless orgasms on the other end of the line. Sure, that was fine enough...he'd done it himself and enjoyed it immensely...there had even been a few women (except the one who'd turned out to be a man, of course...god, was he ever glad the guy had told him BEFORE anything had gone on between them sexually) he considered friends; they were sweet and demure or hot and lusty, and just damn nice people. But her...well, she was both. Teasing, playful...smart, had a heart as wide as the Internet and a wit to match. She could be sweet as dark chocolate in his mouth, or cool as fresh butter...or hot as hell. Being with her was nothing short of incredible each and every time he saw her online...each new roleplay like a roller coaster ride...making his stomach drop every time her username showed up on the Active Users list. He'd said hi initially just because he couldn't resist a woman whose profile said, "Educated, successful writer; happily married; looking for smart men who love to play" and then used "LuvsNymphomercials" as a user name. Their acquaintance began when he'd sent her a little chuckle and told her he loved a woman with a sense of humor...and then he'd learned to love all sorts of things about her. After their second chat, which ended in the most spectacular sexual roleplay he'd ever had the luck to be a part of and an orgasm which was so intense he'd nearly woken his wife two rooms away, she'd given him her real name. Nicole. Since then, they'd talked about their lives, held hands, she'd listened to his pain and he to hers; and most importantly they agreed that neither was willing to destroy their marriages and families by having an affair, and that their relationship would forever be a fantasy on the screen. A month before, he'd asked her nervously if she would consider speaking with him on the phone...he was in heaven when she'd said yes, and then realized that true heaven was the sound of her voice, which was as infinitely varied from sweet to siren, as she was. He'd never heard a voice like that. Then, two weeks later, she'd sent him a rather steamy--and mysterious--email, telling him that she would be in town to do some house sitting for a friend, and would he like to come over; she had something very special for him. He hadn't been able to do more than email her with the reply that he would be there at any time and place she asked. In the last two weeks, she'd been conspicuously absent from their regular chatroom and would only respond, "patience, darlin," when he emailed, asking where she was; why she wouldn't speak to him online. So now here he was, his hands sweating, feeling as high as a sixteen year old kid again, cock so hard he was afraid he'd split his fly open--he felt like a piece of steel forged into flesh. He didn't know if he'd ever been so aroused...so happy and excited and terrified all in one glorious rush. He liked the feeling...but then, she didn't inspire many feelings in him that he didn't like. It had been perfectly dark an hour ago and now he wandered purposely through this darkened crosshatch alleys of suburban paradise. Backyards, some demurely shielding their beauty behind garments of fences, lined the alleys. Here and there the yawning mouths of garages were open, swallowing minivans and lawnmowers and the dark night air. Bicycles and skateboards; a baseball mitt, sandbox toys and swingsets were abandoned and empty, awaiting another gorgeous summer day and the children who would enjoy them. Rounding a corner onto what she had listed as the last alley, Jack brushed by the heavily laden arms of a stocky lilac bush. The scent was thick and sweet, and he found himself pausing for a moment, taking the luxury of the aroma into his lungs and closing his eyes for a moment. "Close your eyes....take a deep breath..." Every time she typed those words to him, his heart tried to crawl up into his throat and his body tensed, cock pulsing with feverish energy--her toy, waiting to be petted; knowing the pleasure of her stroking... "Here we go..." And then she'd start spinning another fantasy for him--always something new, some little surprise waiting...he'd want fast and hot and somehow taking clues from their conversation before the games began, she'd sense it and make him crazy with slow, teasing and sweet. Or he would come to her half asleep or with his body aching or his mind muddled with the complex problems of his life and she'd tell him a joke or tease him, verbally sparring with him until he'd awakened or come out of his self-imposed shell to really talk to her; tell her what was wrong. Then she'd be his friend, giving advice...asking the right questions...making him feel...perfectly right again. Taking a deep breath, he made his way around the lilac and the fence was there...fifty feet ahead...7 feet of tall, blonde wood freshly built. The scent of newly cut lumber mixed with lilac, and Jack thought he might stop breathing. He hadn't known a fence could make a man so hot. Nicole would love that, he thought, wiping his hands down the outsides of his thighs. He would have to remember to tell her about that... If he could speak when he finally saw her. She knew things about him even his wife didn't know. He and Nicole had agreed not to make their emotional attachment stronger by trying to have some kind of cyber love affair...they both wanted pleasure and took and gave it...the rest was a deep, loving friendship, but it was so much safer to tell her that he had always been a closet voyeur (not that he'd hung out in many closets...he just had never had the nerve to try to live out that particular desire in his life) and that he hated his sister's dog (the nasty little mongrel thought his bedroom was Central Park), and that he'd had an insane crush on some neighbor woman five years ago whose name still escaped him (she'd made that forgotten crush into one hell of a fantasy last week). She knew his favorite color, the brand of underwear he bought, and what he thought of the PBS version of "Jane Eyre"...and she knew he was crazy about her. If the two of them hadn't been married, he would have tracked her down, tied her to some bed, and given her one devastating orgasm after another until she agreed to be his wife. But such were the intricacies of life. The fence loomed ahead of him, gleaming dull yellow like an autumn moon under cloud-banked skies, a beacon. The gate was locked, as she said it would be, with a chain and combination lock...he could hardly see the tiny numbers and the chain, thank god, bumped around but didn't rattle in its protective neon-plastic blue sheath. His hands were shaking. When the lock slid open, the ends of the chain parting to admit him to paradise, he had to stop again...take another breath. He didn't know what to expect. She might be just on the other side of the fence, in the pool she'd mentioned (laughingly telling him that he would probably be so engrossed with lust that he might fall in if he weren't careful) or waiting in the house. Her directions had ended at the combination for the lock. So slowly that he wanted to scream, he moved the gate open. Disappointment slipped over him. The backyard was large, with the requisite pool and changing room, patio, grill, beds of roses blooming yellow and red in air that was beginning to become mist. A table had been placed in the center of the patio, whatever was atop it covered with a dark blue cloth. And the house, an interesting mix of flagstone, natural log, and smooth wood plank painted a warm rose, looked out at him through big windows gleaming like black ice in the night. The house faced away from him. To his left, beyond the patio, its double sets of elaborate French doors were closed; unshaded, bracketed by potted miniature fruit trees laboring to birth tiny lemons and oranges and scenting the air with a citrus tang. The pool to the right was a deep, pure aqua blue lit by small underwater lights; otherwise the yard was dark. The fence surrounding the property and the trees which nearly lined the whole interior perimeter provided an incredible privacy that made him feel as alone and secure as if he were indoors. He thought for a moment to leave but nearly as quickly as he'd decided it he turned, secured the gate with its lock now inside, and walked silently into the yard. Nicole's invitation stated plainly that he was to arrive no earlier than ten-forty-five p.m. and no later than eleven-fifteen. Looking at his wristwatch in the pale moon and mist glow, he assured himself that he was, indeed, on time: eleven-oh-six. He would wait the requisite nine minutes, to see if she had given him the time frame because she hadn=t been sure of the precise time of her own arrival. Moving silently to the cleverly inlaid stone patio, Jack could see only dim gray shadows behind the glass. Turning away from the house, he realized that only one chair had been placed beside the table at the center of the patio. Even more odd, he realized, was that the chair was not the usual sort of pressed plastic or wrought iron, but a piece of furniture completely inappropriate for the out of doors. It was an obviously expensive lounge chair upholstered in nubby, toffee-colored fabric and, aside from the table, the only piece of furniture. Smiling, Jack was fairly sure that she'd put the chair here for a good reason and he wasn't about to question anything she did. He decided instead to settle in and wait. Sinking into the comfort of the chair, Jack noticed again the dark blue cloth covering up whatever was piled in the center of the table. A night breeze moved across the yard, teasing a corner of the cloth up and folding it back upon itself. Beneath what appeared to be finely made linen, the creamy white corner of an envelope gleamed against the blue. A little nudge with one finger and Jack's heart took a fast slide into his throat when he saw his name written there. His hands shook opening the thing; sliding out the single piece of stiff, creamy stationary. "Comfy, darlin? You should find everything you need on the table--except me, of course, but I'm coming soon. Relax. Take a deep breath. Then open them again and I'll be there. XXXX" Moving the linen cloth, he found beneath one thin, gold rimmed plate of exquisite antique china. On its pale surface were three water crackers, spread with what he knew was a mixture of brie and sun dried tomato, another three smeared with cream cheese and perfectly smoked, thinly cut slices of salmon, and a final three decorated with tiny dollops of sour cream, perfectly salted caviar, and a tiny shower of freshly ground white pepper. Jack's mouth watered, but his other appetites came screaming to the fore, far ahead of simple physical hunger. He'd described this scene to her weeks ago, when she'd asked him about his favorite fantasy. The bottle of wine--a beautifully crisp white he'd had only once six years ago--was open and cooling in a small bucket of ice beside the plate. At nearly two hundred dollars a bottle, he'd never splurged on it again, and couldn't believe that she'd gone to such lengths to make this fantasy a reality. A tall, delicate crystal wineglass was lying mouth down on a small square of white linen, waiting to be filled. A china dessert plate bearing a matching gold rim completed the meal with a selection of small, hand-dipped truffles...a treat he'd told her that he loved and he had no doubt that they were from the same small chocolateier he ordered them from twice a year. Another item on the table nearly had him bursting into laughter in the dark quiet of the backyard: a neatly folded stack of thick, brand new hand towels. Four, to be exact. He nearly had a hemorrhage. The thought of her purposely buying and folding and laying out those luxurious, neat little towels...knowing that he'd use them for...well, for cleaning away the evidence of the passion she aroused in him. It was nearly more than he could bear. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he savored the taste on his tongue--more than cool but not icy, and even better than he'd remembered. The last item on the table was odd...a speaker, a bit larger than a deck of cards--very ultramodern and sleek, tailing a thin wire back toward the far side of the house, with another wire leading out of it and into a set of very light headphones. Hell, she'd done all this, Jack thought, utterly surprised and pleased by her--again. Might as well have a bit of mood music as well. Taking another bit of wine onto his tongue, he thought for the thousandth time of how she might taste. Setting the glass down, he leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to still his hungry impatience. When he opened them again, she was there. Past the room closest to him, which was still smothered in darkness, a second room--a study, he thought--was glowing with light and the presence of the woman who stood in the midst of it, facing him. She was perfect. Everything he'd known in his mind--and still a new delight. Tall, with a figure lush with feminine curves, big, gorgeous breasts, and hips he wanted to grab and hold on to for dear life. Her hair shone like dark, burnished copper in the light, pinned up in a soft mass of curls. She was staring straight at him, smiling, and he felt a shaft of heat so potent at her first glance that he thanked the saints he was sitting down. "Nicole." She was his fantasy. Every delectable inch of her. As if she'd heard him through the glass and space between them, she lifted her fingers to her mouth, blowing him a little kiss. Jack was halfway out of his chair, his gaze still riveted on hers, when she turned her face away, glancing over her left shoulder, smiling, and all his blood froze when a man appeared just behind her. Dropping back into the chair, Jack let his breath out in a hard stream, understanding now her true gift to him. The lady was fulfilling his fantasy--making him a voyeur. A wave of erotic awareness rose in him, wrapping him in its hot, wet power, stunning him so that for a long moment he could neither move nor think. As if looking at her through depths he could not fathom, he finally relaxed back into the hold of the chair, shaking, finally understanding that the power she had in his life was not just some scrap of phantasmic dream, but real power--and he realized, too, just how much trouble they would both have been in, if they had met personally. Hell, he would have been lost. As it was, he wondered if he were still breathing. Watching the little drama inside--her, beautiful, poised and elegant, wearing the emerald green dress he'd thus far seen only in his imagination, allowing the man to slide her wrap from her shoulders--Jack decided that he'd have to find a way to send his fantasy woman ten dozen roses--for NOT seeing him. Maybe it was his tender nature, or maybe just the fact that he was a man and, when sufficiently aroused, tended to think with the head in his southern hemisphere rather than his northerly one, but whatever the reason, there had been a dozen times over the last months when he'd been ready to pack his belongings and go in search of her, finding her, and fucking her until neither of them could stand. Times when his life--his reality life, as she called it--were so gawdawful or just plain dull as dishwater that he'd wanted to cross the line....for just a moment; an hour. A touch. She'd politely rebuffed him the first time he'd mentioned it, scolded him lovingly the second. Nearly ripped him a new one the third time. Smiling, Jack watched her moving around inside, laughing--teasing her date, he imagined from her looks and smiles--the way she always teased him into mindless bouts with ecstacy. She had been the one to keep him grounded, even through cyber play and hours of the kinds of pleasure most men only dreamed about on the telephone. While he'd floated, delight and what could nearly pass for worship of her keeping him afloat, she'd made certain they'd both kept their lives intact. He could have fucked it up for everyone--himself, her, their spouses and children--but she hadn't let him. Shaking his head, Jack reminded himself to thank her for saving their lives, and took another sip of wine. Inside, Nicole was serving her date a glass of something that he was somehow sure was excellent but not what she'd given to him. And a plate of hors d'oeuvres--again, good choices, but a step below what she'd prepared for him. Nicole slipped away to the big wall of bookcases, playing with a stereo system while the man sipped wine and enjoyed the feast prepared for his mouth, as well as the one before his eyes, and Jack nearly raged with jealousy. The sway of Nicole's hips in the cling of the green dress was nearly more than he could stand...and clearly, her date felt the same. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him again, smiling and making some humorous comment, making the man laugh. Then she turned back to the stereo, snapped a few buttons, turned a few dials.... And her voice, with Miles Davis in the background, floated to him through the speaker. "You like Miles?" she murmured. Jack felt himself melting at the tone in her voice...the purring growl of sex and female that made him so fucking insane every time he spoke to her. The man made some reply in the affirmative, but Jack could only focus on Nicole...the sway of her body, like a flicker of green fire. "You'll excuse me for a moment, won't you, darlin?" she smiled, sauntering away...and toward Jack. Jack watched, mesmerized, as she left the room, and could barely make out her silhouette as she made her way into the dark back room of the house, making his fists clench with the need to go to her; to make her his with his hands and mouth as he had so often with his mind...his words. When she didn't appear, he nearly growled in frustration...then a very faint, yellow light came on in the far right corner of the house, just behind the glass, and Jack realized she'd lit a candle. It was small, its light faint, but she stood behind it, her focus entirely on him. Bending to her left just a little, she spoke into what he guessed must be another of the little speaker-like devices, and he could hear her sexy purr as clearly as if she were standing next to him. "Hi, baby," she murmured. "I know you can hear me but can't respond and I know that's making you crazy..." The Lady & the Voyeur She laughed then, softly, and Jack's heart melted. "I hope you know that this is for you, lover, not for him. He's a very nice guy and he's been after me for a while so when you mentioned your fantasy I thought he might do nicely. He seems rather...eager," another laugh, "and that bulge in his pants is rather impressive. So...this is for you, baby. Enjoy." Then she straightened, throwing him another kiss, blowing out the candle, and sauntering back into the living room. Of course, Jack thought as he watched her walk away, she wasn't exactly sauntering...it was more like...stalking. The son of a bitch sitting in the den was about to get fucked par excellence and Jack's cock jumped at the sight of her, moving like a panther into her den to mate. The man's head came up and a smile lit his face, but she moved so quickly that in almost the same instant his smile was replaced by a look of shock and lust when she lifted the hem of her dress in both hands, dragging it above her knees, planting one stiletto-heeled foot onto the coffee table directly in front of him. With her green-shod foot right between his wineglass and the plate of hors d'oeuvres, enticingly shaped by the shoe she wore, the poor bastard looked as if he didn't know what hit him, but thought he had an inkling of what was about to. "Still hungry?" Nicole purred...dragging the dress up farther, exposing the lace topped edges of her pale green stockings, and the pale creamy shapes of her thighs. "Or maybe...you'd rather skip the preliminary appetizers and go right for dessert?" Jack settled back into the chair, smiling, knowing that the expression Nicole's date was wearing now was the same one he'd worn dozens of times: surprised, pleased, shocked and aroused. Constantly delighted at the way she aroused; constantly aroused by the way she delighted. "Cat got your tongue, baby?" She purred silkily, "Or maybe it's the...pussy?" The hem of her dress crept all the way up to her navel, exposing a pair of champagne lace panties...a little bit of nothing, covering the pleasures men had fought and died for. And delighted in. Jack ate a delicate canape, sipping his wine, loving the cool sweet dryness of it on his tongue...and desperately wishing it were her. "Nicole--" Jack smiled, amused to no end by the expression on Date's face and the harsh, almost strangled quality in his voice as he forced out her name. Nicole just stayed in position, swishing the hem of her dress a little over her navel, teasing two men into a frenzy. "What's the matter, Sam?" she purred, licking her lips. "You don't want it?" The question earned her a wide eyed "are you fucking KIDDING?" look from Sam, and Jack smiled wryly. The boy was WAY out of the league he was playing in. "Well, I--" Another strangled look, and Sam picked up his drink, swigged half the glass, and narrowly managed to get the glass back onto the table without looking and without spilling it all over the thick, pale carpet. "C'mon baby," Nicole purred smoothly, sliding the dress a little higher....the hem reached halfway between her navel and the bottom curves of her breasts. "Let's play." Jack's cock jumped, already throbbing under even the loose play of fabric over it, and he shifted to get more comfortable. Those two words were the ones she typed when they cybered, or spoke when they were on the phone together. Her sensually spoken euphemism for what some of the more crude (usually under twenty-one) users used as a come-on line: "Hey baby, wanna fuck?". The low purr of her voice saying it always made him twitch; he could see it made Sam shake a little. Sam managed to get his hands up, sliding them around Nicole's delicate, stocking-slick ankle, thumbs caressing. Jack had to give him credit; it was exactly what he would have done, starting there, tracing over her velvety skin, feeling the warm metal of the feminine ankle bracelet she wore against his big, shock-clumsy fingers, slowly sliding upward to massage her calf, pausing at the back of her knee. "That's right, baby," Nicole murmured, her voice changing a little; taking on a bit of rough sex at its edges. She was like an angel--soft, sweet and eyes full of mischief, and she was like a siren--hot, fiery temptation. And Sam was lost, his eyes focused on what his hands were doing; watching the play of his own fingers on her skin as they continued up her leg, taking some considerable time to trace and mold around her thigh where the stocking ended in a wide, pretty band of flowery lace, the pale jade stocking an even prettier contrast to her smooth, porcelain skin. That, Jack thought, is where he would have been different. He would have done the same thing with his hands, but he would have kept his gaze on Nicole's all the while he was sliding his hands up her leg. When she turned her head to the side, looking back out toward him, her mouth curled up in a sexy, "you like what you see?" smile, and he smiled back at her, even knowing that she couldn't see him. She knew. Sam bent his head, kissed the delicate toes peeking out of the tip of Nicole's heeled sandal, making a small moan of pleasure. Kissing her toes one by one, he looked more slave than lover, worshiping at his Mistress' feet, and when he slid off the edge of the sofa to kneel between it and the coffee table, kissing her toes, Nicole gave him a knowing smile. "Good boy," she whispered, letting go of her skirt with one hand to bend and stroke his hair. Jack unsnapped his jeans, relieving just a bit of the pressure on his throbbing cock, stroking over the shaft through the material with his thumb. Needles of pleasure ran through his groin, his moan matching Sam's as Sam's mouth traveled up Nicole's calf. Dropping the hem of her dress against her upper thigh, Nicole watched Sam, her fingers moving to the little buttons at her bodice, slipping one tiny disc from its mooring, then another; another. Snagged by the movement, Sam's attention focused on her hands while his mouth continued to kiss and caress her skin, over her knee... Nicole's dress parted, exposing high, full breasts confined by a bra of slick champagne satin with a pretty fastener between them; she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, slid her hands, palm down, fingers splayed wide, across her silky tummy. Jack took the tab of his zipper into trembling fingers, grasping the edge of his open fly with one hand, he managed to get the rasping metal fully open before his cock ripped the denim in its furious arousal. He groaned at the release of pressure on his cock, shifted and adjusted his jeans and briefs until he was exposed, his thighs parted just enough to give him room to jerk off while he watched her...them....and indulged himself in one firm, slow stroke, root to tip then back again, before realizing that he was embarrassingly close to cumming already, and left his cock to take up his wineglass again. Taking a chilling sip, he tried to school himself to patience. Sam's mouth was over Nicole's knee and onto her thigh, just inside her kneecap, kissing her skin in a way that reminded Jack of a Frenchman kissing a woman's inner arm, from wrist to the soft inside of her elbow. Before the boy could reach his intended goal, Nicole slid her foot from the table, removing temptation from his grasp, leaving Sam kneeling on the floor with the coffee table between them, hands empty, eyes pleading. She shifted her hips, just one lithe movement, and the dress slithered to the floor in a puddle of green. Above her pale green stockings she wore a scrappy little piece of silk nothing to cover her lush cunt, and Jack, inhaling deeply of the fragrance of the wine, could imagine how hot and sweet and fragrant she must be at that moment. She put her fingers to the fastener between her breasts...Jack couldn't miss the way Sam stared, practically drooling, while she undid the little fastener and slowly, slowly peeled the cups away from her high, firm tits. She had the prettiest breasts, Jack thought, as the silk fell to the coffee table. Plump, full, firm, with a slight uptilt and perfect nipples, already hard and begging to be sucked. When she cupped them in her own soft hands, running her tongue over her lower lip and giving Sam a 'what-are-you-waiting-for' look from under her lashes, the boy seemed to remember himself, and came around the table. Again, Jack thought, he and Sam clearly differed in their approach. He would have jumped over the fucking table half an instant after she''d taken her body from his, not wanting a second to pass without contact. Setting his glass aside, Jack took his cock into his hand again, stroking exquisitely slowly, wanting to draw the pleasure out, and knowing precisely when he would allow himself to cum. Sam pulled Nicole into his arms, against his body, finally taking the initiative, now that the shock had apparently worn off. He had one hand hard on her ass, obviously grinding his crotch into hers (a bit of overkill for a woman who deserved more finesse, but...who was he to find fault?), and the other hand Jack couldn't see. He'd have bet a million bucks that hand was squeezing one of Nicole's gorgeous tits. And all the while, Sam had his mouth plastered to hers, kissing her senseless, greedy and too aroused to control himself, even at this point. Precum covered the swollen head of Jack's cock. He was harder now than he'd ever been in his life, watching his pretty lady with some other man. God, he was going to owe her BIG TIME, he thought with a wry smile. Nicole would just smile and say that this was not about keeping score, but he didn't think she'd mind if he at least tried to get even. Wrapping her arms around Sam's neck, Nicole managed to move in small increments until she had them in profile to Jack so that he could better see the action. Sam's left hand was cupping, squeezing and kneading her right breast, and she was pushing it harder against his touch. The moans and gasps and the wet, hot sounds of kisses made stroking without cumming harder and harder, the same effect it was having on his cock. Nicole was making those soft, husky whimpers he loved, the same sounds she made when he was whispering in her ear over the phone about how he was loving her, tasting her, fucking her. She managed to get his shirt off somehow between ardent kisses, every discarded item of clothing simply falling to the floor. The sounds of them together were incredible, but getting louder, so he reluctantly stopped stroking his cock, taking his eyes away for a moment to slip on the headphones. Immediately every cricket, every sigh of the trees...everything...was suspended, and his whole aural world was nothing but sex. In the scant moment he'd taken to get the headphones, Nicole had gotten her hands on Sam's belt and was busily unfastening his trousers while he continued playing with her tits, murmuring the kinds of mindless drivel Jack could imagine a sixteen year old boy saying to his girlfriend. "Oh, baby, you've got such great tits," Sam breathed, squeezing them together, hissing as his belt came unbuckled and the zipper went down. "Oh, yeah, baby...I want you to touch me...touch my cock, honey." Nicole gave him no response save a sexy smile, before dropping to her knees in front of him. He immediately shoved his hands into her hair, pushing her head toward his crotch; she resisted, taking her time, removing his pants and briefs, then teasing him endlessly with her palms and fingernails and breath before finally giving in to his pleas and grasping his cock, stroking it lovingly, in the rhythm that Jack used himself. "Do you want it, Sammy?" Nicole whispered throatily, gazing up at him, one hand on his cock, the other on her left breast, teasing the already stiff nipple. "Do you want my mouth on your cock?" "GEEEEEEZUS! YES!" he gasped, sounding like a fish out of water needing air. "Oh fuck...PLEASE." Smiling, Nicole wrapped both hands around his cock, bent her head and taking the head into her hot, wet mouth, sucking on it for just an instant....Jack imagined she ran her tongue around the head, and over the slit, and Sam shook visibly and cried out. Then she took her mouth away. Standing, smiling at the confused look on Sam's face, she took his hand, backing toward the sofa. Before sitting down, she put his hands on her hips, on the waistband of her skimpy panties. "Me first," she murmured. Sam couldn't drop to his knees fast enough; Jack heard the slight sound of tearing fabric as the panties came down and off, and then Nicole was seated, legs spread, and without so much as one tease of his tongue, Sam's mouth was full on her open cunt and he was eating her with more eagerness than finesse, but eager could be good too, Jack supposed. Nicole's head fell back on the sofa, her legs widening, her hands sliding into Sam's hair. Her hips bucked forward, her body trembled. Jack could feel his own body straining. Imagined that it was his hands, his mouth, doing this to her. His hand around his own cock tightened, every stroke slick from the precum he was oozing in copious amounts, and he stroked himself as Nicole was pleasured, her eyes closed, head back. Sweet lord, the sounds she was making were pure fucking torment. Now, when he lay in his bed at night, with her on the phone in his ear, he could really SEE her in his minds eye...he KNEW what she looked like when she was aroused. It was killing him with pleasure. Her head began thrashing back and forth, her hands left Sam's head to squeeze her tits together, pluck at the nipples, making herself moan even more beautifully, more erotically. She began begging, in that unconscious way Jack knew she took on when she was close. "Ohhh god baby, please......" hips bucking up, grinding her pussy against Sam's eager mouth...the wet sounds of his tongue on her cunt like listening to juicy music. "Please baby...please," she whimpered, moaned and gasped. Jack didn't realize how close he was, until she opened her eyes, looked full at him through the glass and all that distance between them and groaned, "PLEASE baby......NOW!" and suddenly the wave crashed over him. Nicole screamed a little and stiffened and began spasming in her orgasm; Jack felt pleasure like he'd never known roll and crackle through him; felt his own cock jump and twitch in his hand, and he couldn't help the groan that escaped him as hot spurts of thick white cum shot up his shaft and out and then fell back on him, making his tight fist fuck even slicker and hotter. He came and came and came until he was gasping for breath and then he fell back to earth, having to close his eyes for a second to gain his equilibrium again and to stop shaking. In the house, Nicole was whimpering softly, making throaty sounds that were so like purrs they made his skin prickle with heat, coming down off the hard fall of what had sounded like a shattering orgasm. He only hoped that his being here, her knowing that he was watching, had made it as powerful for her as it had been for him. Sam had the good sense to slow his avid devouring as Nicole came back to her senses, and within a few minutes he was simply nibbling at the insides of her thighs, kissing her tummy, licking her with very brief little forays of his tongue into her hot, creamy center. Nicole smiled--first toward the back of the house and Jack, then down into Sam's hopeful expression. She gave a throaty laugh. "Well," she murmured, stroking her fingers through Sam's hair. "I guess you really wanted my mouth on your cock," and the comment, though lightly spoken, was seductive in the extreme. Nicole put the fingertips of his right hand on Sam's lips, still glistening with the glorious taste of her feminine heat, sliding them back and forth. Then she bent forward, replacing her fingertips with her mouth, tasting herself on her lover's mouth, licking at his lips before opening her mouth against his and tasting more deeply. Jack, having cleaned himself up with the aid of one of the little hand towels she'd so thoughtfully left for him, (he wasn't laughing about her choice of party favors now, he thought) took a long sip of wine, imagining the taste and of her and envying the tasters. His cock lay against his thigh, its not-completely flaccid state mute testament to the high level of arousal this whole amazing night and its temptress had created. He was not finished...because Nicole was not finished with him yet. Sliding to sit at the edge of the sofa, thighs open wide, Nicole broke her kiss with Sam and with one last, playful lick of his lips, whispered, "Why don't you stand up, sweetheart?" Not into arguing with her at that moment (and what man would, when standing would mean his cock would be directly in line with those sweet, honey-dripping lips?) Sam straightened, hands running up the soft outer curves of her arms as he went. Jack thought fleetingly that it would have been more comfortable for Sam to simply switch places with Nicole, but quickly realized that no detail was being ignored by his seductress. If Sam was seated, it would be difficult at best for Jack to really see what was about to happen. And of course, by virtue of being a voyeur, seeing was all-important. With Sam standing in profile to him, Jack was in a much better position to watch her play. Nicole looked up at Sam, a mischievous smile on her mouth, and lifted her hands to put her nails to his shoulders, lightly raking down, over his chest, taking a few moments to run her thumbs over his nipples, his navel, before dragging them to his hips, down the outsides of his thighs, then up the fronts of his thighs. Sam moaned, putting his hands back in her hair again. "C'mon, don't tease," he rasped, his cock bobbing right in front of her mouth, still wet from kissing him. "Oh poor darlin," she cooed back, before kissing the underside of the head of his cock, making him gasp and jump. "I don't tease....unless I plan to fulfill." Her right hand slid around the shaft of his cock at the base, her left hand went to the inside of his right thigh, nudging his legs apart a little more. She moved it up, cupping his balls, testing his arousal at having his sacs touched; caressed. Apparently, from the way his head rolled back a little and he moaned aloud, Jack assumed that the kid loved it. Taking her cue from Sam, Nicole continued to gently tease and knead his balls with one hand while the other began stroking slowly up the whole length of his shaft, rotating a little at the head before moving back down again. She bent forward, kissed his navel, licked her way across his hipbones, licked and sucked at the spot between his balls and the root of his cock. All the while, Sam moaned and encouraged and gasped, his breathing growing heavier by the second, his hips beginning a subtle forward thrust and backward retreat, fucking Nicole's hand. Finally, she slipped her lips over the head of Sam's cock, taking him in deep with the first, wet thrust of him toward the back of her throat, and Jack thought Sam would explode at that instant. Nicole slid her mouth away, Sam moaned pitifully at the withdraw, and Jack's cock stirred and twitched at the erotic scene before him, stiffening as if her mouth was on him rather than Sam. Nicole smiled up at Sam, slipped the head of his cock over her slick lips, then down over her chin, down the center of her throat as she arched her neck and began to rise up on her knees. One hand still playing with Sam's balls, the other on his cock, guiding it down over the hollow of her throat; making a wet trail down her breastbone, precum and her saliva, as she drew a line down her body with the head of him. She moved the head down between her breasts, then back up to the top of her cleavage again, then back down. The hot, soft skin between her breasts began to gleam with the wet proof of Sam's desire, and the man himself groaned heavily when he looked down to watch the head of his cock sliding up and back between her tits. He growled something unintelligible, then some choice obscenities while she slicked the precum-wet head over one nipple, then the other, before returning his cock to her cleavage. She plumped her tits around him, squeezing his shaft between the pretty mounds, and slowly began moving her torso up and down, fucking him deliciously, erotically. The Lady & the Voyeur Each time the swollen head of Sam's cock peeped up out of the top of her breasts, Nicole bent her head, sometimes licking at it, sometimes taking the head into her mouth for just an instant before releasing it and sliding it back down, fucking the shaft again. Nicole alternated tit fucking and sucking Sam's cock with long, erotic glances at Jack, who had his own cock back in hand once more, stroking, feeling the electric buzz of pleasure just as strongly as he had before his first orgasm, the sight of her fucking another man with her tits almost more than he could bear. Sam was making sounds that could have been used as a dub-over for a porno film, alternatingly moaning, grunting and groaning, hands fisted in Nicole's soft hair, hips thrusting forward and back, fucking her tits or her mouth or her hand, whatever she offered, anything she wanted. He was obviously lost in the sensations, completely oblivious to the fact that outside, another man watched. Nicole's real lover this evening, Jack thought. She might be performing with Sam, but she was doing it for him, planning everything down to the last detail, making love to Jack with wine and food and lighting and sound...and the gift of voyeurism. She was fucking Sam, but she was making love to HIM. Jack, her fantasy lover, confidante, friend. That thought alone nearly made him cum again in his hand. Inside, Nicole had abandoned her tit fucking and was sliding onto her knees in front of Sam, both hands wrapped around his cock, sucking him as deeply and as fast and deliciously as a woman was able. Sam was gasping; Jack was sure that the boy was about to cum, and at the moment before his explosion, Nicole took her mouth and hands away, effectively halting his orgasm. Sam growled in frustration; Nicole smiled. Stood. Wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, kissing him as ardently as she had sucked at his cock, lifting her left knee and rubbing it against Sam's hip, pressing her crotch into his when he put his right hand down to hold her knee in place, letting her wrap her calf around his hips. Jack moaned himself as Nicole effectively fucked Sam without penetration, rubbing her hips into his, rotating herself against him, making him moan into their kisses. Jack could imagine Sam's cock, trapped between his own hard belly and Nicole's softer one, wet from her mouth, sliding between them, giving pleasure, yet not enough to bring him back to the edge of orgasm. He found his own hips moving in rhythm to theirs, making Jack realize exactly what was so fucking erotic about being a voyeur...it was a threesome, even though all three were not in the same room, and even though one was not aware of another. An anonymous third, he wanted to be behind Nicole, sliding his own stiff cock in her wet cleft, pushing the head up and back along her slit, making her flinch and moan each time his head rubbed over her clit, feeling the force of Sam on the other side of her, imprisoning her between them. He could almost feel the soft curves of her sandwiched between his chest and Sam's...could almost feel his cock finding her swollen, pink hole, pressing inside.... "Fuck me." Jack blinked, brought out of his reverie by Nicole's words. They were both plea and demand, but after an instant of thinking "YESSSSSSSSSS" to himself in response, he realized that she was murmuring to Sam. "C'mon, Sammie," she cooed sexily. "Come and fuck me. I want it from behind." Pushing out of Sam's hold, Nicole turned around, rubbing her ass against Sam's surely aching cock. Sam immediately threw his arms around her, squeezing her tits, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "You wanna fuck?" Sam ground out harshly. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh yes," Nicole purred, back arching, shoving her tits harder into Sam's hands. "I need it." "Then ask me nicely," Sam countered, moving her to the sofa and getting her onto her knees on the cushions, hands on the back. He spread her knees wide at the edge of the seat, sliding his palms up and down the soft insides of them, teasing her pussy lips with his fingers. "Please, Sammie," she groveled sweetly, moving her hips against his hand. "Please..fuck me...." Her voice broke on a little cry of pleasure as Sam settled one hand on her ass, the other between her thighs, fingers sliding around her clit, pressing and caressing her, making her hips writhe. Jack watched, enrapt, as Nicole bent forward, forehead pressed to the back of the couch, one hand fisted to either side, hips moving seductively back against Sam's hand. Jack could only see her in profile, envying Sam's delicious view from the rear with her sweet pink folds all swollen and ripe and wet, and open for the taking. When Sam dropped to his knees behind her, Jack nearly sighed with relief...he would have done the same, and was willing Sam to do it for him....eating pussy by proxy. The taste of her, Jack thought as Sam buried his face between Nicole's legs was no doubt as ripe and tangy and sweet as the wine he'd sipped, and far richer. Nicole screamed, throwing her head back while Sam went at her eagerly, shaking his face from side to side, his mouth buried in sweet, wet, woman's cunt. She began fucking her hips back at him, rocking against his tongue, forcing the speed to quicken or slow at her demand. Sam kept one hand on her ass, grabbing his cock with the other, beating himself off while forcing her closer and closer to another orgasm. Jack loved the way she looked and sounded then, bent over the sofa, tits swaying, legs spread, head thrown back. She made sounds that were like a woman, but also like a wild animal in heat...and Jack knew, when she began hissing obscenities, that she had lost control and was completely gone in pleasure. "Ohhhhhhh FUCK!" Nicole hissed, hips bucking at Sam's mouth. "Oh fuck, Sammie...yessssssssssss! Eat my pussy, baby. Make me cum you bastard. MAKE ME CUM!" Jack nearly came again, hand again wet with his own precum, cock like iron in his stroking fist. Inside, Nicole screamed, her body jerking hard in the throes of an orgasm so intense if Jack hadn't worn the headset, she would have awakened half the block. Her body shook and bucked, her hands clenched harder on the sofa back, her pussy was no doubt pouring sweet cum onto Sam's tongue. Without waiting for her to relax, Sam shoved his hand between her thighs, rubbing at her cunt, her clit, again, and stood, taking his cock into his free hand, shoving it at her, finding her hole. He shoved his cock in full length, without warning, making Nicole scream again and her spasms start anew. He began pumping her hard, fast and deep immediately, grabbing at her hips, the sounds of their bodies slapping together an erotic pulse deep in Jack's balls. Nicole was making harsh sounds of passionate distress, obviously close to another orgasm, and Sam was jamming his cock into her like a wild man, face a mask of intense concentration and pleasure, body tense and trembling. "OHHHH!! FUCK!!" Nicole screamed, and as she slammed into the wall of her orgasm, Sam stiffened and jerked behind her. "Take me," he rasped. "TAKE IT" he shouted at her, and then he threw his head back, mouth open, making a loud, long sound of pleasure as his hips spasmed, and he came in Nicole's wet, milking cunt. Jack came with them, his cock jerking in his hand, his cum spurting up in thick wet geysers, his whole body burning and exploding with such intense pleasure that he had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out. His ass bounced off the seat as his hips fucked into his hand, his muscles clenched tight. Cum spurted and dribbled everywhere, onto his thighs and hand and belly and even his chest. The orgasm was deep. Intense. And it was all hers. All Nicole's....his sweet fantasy lady's. It took him several minutes to come back to his senses and breathe normally again, and when he had he wondered with a wry, deeply sated sigh, what fantasy of hers he could fulfill...to return the favor. ~THE END~ Post Story Note: So, readers, what do you think? Should Nicole send Sam packing and invite Jack in for a passionate night of hot, mind-blowing sex? Or should chapter two involve Jack fulfilling some fantasy of hers, without his participation (of course, he WILL have to watch), in order to maintain their strict rules about meeting? Send some feedback and let me know...the next chapter will be reader's choice! And don't forget--if Jack's going to fulfill one of Nicole's fantasies...which one will it be???