5 comments/ 99572 views/ 4 favorites Who Needs Blinds? By: OrdinaryGirl “We really need to get blinds,” he said grumpily as he came in the front door and put his keys on the stereo speaker. She looked up from the computer screen to see him scowling at the large window beside her desk. “Why is that?” “The guys next door are out in the front yard with their friends and they obviously didn’t hear me come home. I could hear what they were saying over the hedge.” He didn’t look very happy. “And??” she asked, still not understanding. The four men in their early twenties had moved in a couple weeks ago, after the house next door had sat vacant for a couple months. It still surprised her to look out her kitchen window and see people moving around inside. She had gotten rather used to walking around naked, even with no window coverings, and it was still an afterthought to grab a robe in the mornings. “Well, one of them said, ‘Hey man, why are you watching her?’ and the other was like, ‘It’s no big deal, she’s just on her computer.’ I don’t like them watching you.” She grinned at him. “Don’t be silly. You have nothing to be jealous of. Who cares if they see me typing? It’s not like I’m doing anything.” He smiled back grudgingly, then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I have to go. I’m late for band practice.” He grabbed his guitar case and headed out the door. She sat for a moment, mulling over what she had just heard. It was not the first time she’d considered the possibility that the boys had been checking her out. They often were on the step, having a beer when she got home from work, and she’d smile and give them a small wave and they’d happily return the gesture. And the day she’d been tanning topless in the backyard, she’d been sure she saw the curtains move in the upstairs window. The thought was not a bad one; in fact, she was finding herself somewhat aroused by the thought of the younger men outside in the dark watching her, and she found herself smiling. She glanced at the clock, and decided that 10 pm was a reasonable hour to get changed into something more comfortable. She returned in a few minutes with a glass of wine and a lowcut clingy nightie that just skimmed her smooth thighs. One of the straps fell off of her shoulder and she pushed it back up as she pulled her chair closer to the desk. She unpinned her hair and let the long brown curls fall across her shoulders and back, running her fingers through the silky locks. A smile played on her lips, as she took a sip of wine and turned her attention back to the computer screen, running her finger around the rim of her glass. She dipped her finger into the dark red drink, before putting it all the way into her mouth, slowly sucking it clean. She tilted her head back, trailing her finger down her chin and her neck, stopping to play for a moment with the gold chain around her neck. Her other hand cupped one of her full breasts, and she leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. She put one of her legs up on the desk, curling her toes with the painted red toenails, as she pulled down the top of her pink cotton nightie and pinched her hard nipple between her finger and thumb. She squeezed her breasts harder, feeling the moisture spread between her legs. One of her hands slid down her flat stomach, and she spread her legs, aware that the view from the next yard would allow them to see her shaved, wet pussy and her hand exploring it. She slid her fingers between the smooth lips, and started rubbing, her clit already aroused and sensitive. “Mmmmm,” she moaned out loud, as she spread her legs farther, putting her other foot up on the desk, and rubbing a bit faster. Her hand slid smoothly in the hot moisture, and she slipped one finger inside herself. She used her other hand to keep rubbing her clit as she slid in and out of her velvety wetness. She bit her lip to try to contain the sound of herself moving towards orgasm, as she rubbed harder and faster, pumping quickly with her other hand. She slid a second finger into her tight throbbing pussy, moaning with pleasure as she felt her heart beat faster and her temperature rise. Her hips moved on their own, working with her rhythm, as she licked her lips, rubbing harder and moving her fingers in and out deeper and faster. She arched her back, crying out, as her climax overtook her and she felt herself release a gush of hot liquid all over her hands. For a moment she stayed still, tingling, letting the sensation linger, then she brought her hand to her mouth and slowly licked her fingers. She smiled to herself, as she deliberately avoided looking out the dark window, thinking, “Who needs blinds?” Who Needs Blinds? Ch. 02 The first to notice had been Josh. Barely 19, and Dillon's younger brother, the other three always treated him like they were doing him a favour by allowing him to live there. He was, in fact, grateful to be out of his parents' house and glad that Dillon's two best pals accepted him for the most part, but he didn't entirely agree with the way they always seemed to stick him with the brunt of the chores. So when he glanced over and saw the woman next door in the clingy nightdress come into view, he hadn't shared the discovery with the others. The other three were sitting on the step, which only left room on the grass, and normally he would have felt a twinge of resentment at this, but not with the view he had behind the others. He suppressed a smile as he looked over their shoulders, pretending to listen to the story Allen was telling, while watching the brunette caress one of her full breasts through the thin fabric. The rectangle of light from the window fell on the grass to the left of the other men and Josh hoped she wouldn't stand again, casting a shadow on the lawn and drawing their attention to her. They had already given him a hard time earlier for watching her, but he couldn't seem to help himself. She was older than him by at least a good ten years, but there was something so sensual about her, about the way she moved, her confidence, that great smile, that stirred yearnings deep in his groin. Just watching her bend over the trunk of her car to unload groceries could give him a sudden raging hardon. He was enjoying not only the little show as she pulled the top of her nightie down, exposing the rounded breasts and the full dark circles around the erect nipples, but also taking great delight in getting one up on the other guys. He shifted his position, trying to subtly adjust the bulge in his shorts as he watched her put her feet up on the desk and spread her legs. There was laughter as Allen reached the punchline of the story and Josh joined in with a forced chuckle, having no clue what had been so funny, and not really caring. He was unable to move his eyes from the sight of the smooth creamy lips that were now exposed, the slightest tease of pink where they touched, the way he could see just the hint of the rounded bottoms of her asscheeks resting on the edge of her chair if he stretched his neck. She had just spread her lips with her fingers to rub her glistening slit when Thomas noticed the look on Josh's face. He turned and let out a gasp of surprise. "You little asshole!" he exclaimed, giving Josh a shot in the arm. "How long has THAT been going on?" The other two guys turned to see what the excitement was about. "Whoa!" Allen immediately forgot all about the story he'd been telling and stood up to get a better view. "Sit down!" Dillon pulled him back down. "You don't want her to see you. This is too good to be true and I don't want it to stop." He craned his neck for a better view. "She can't see us because it's too dark out here," Thomas stated matter of factly. "And besides...don't you think she is well aware that we could be watching? She's sitting right there in front of a window with no blinds with the lights on fucking herself. Little slut is probably hoping that she's getting us all worked up." "Don't talk about her like that," Josh said quietly. He'd liked it a lot better when he'd been the only one watching her. Somehow the sensuality seemed sullied now. "Oooh, someone's got a soft spot for the missus next door," Allen teased. "Like we didn't already know that, though," Thomas had a harsh tone, still prickly about being chastised by the younger man. "Do you think we don't notice you watching her every chance you get? Whacking your tiny cock while fantasizing about her doesn't make her...or you...a saint. Look at her with her cunt right there for anyone to see." The anger was bubbling up in Josh's chest and his brother put a hand on his arm to calm him. "Come on, guys. Give him a break. We've all had fantasies about older women before. Let him have his in peace. No harm done." Dillon spoke casually, trying to diffuse the situation before it erupted into something that would cause bad feelings to linger. "Yeah, it's true," Allen said with a huge grin. "I STILL jerk off to thoughts of your mother, Dillon." "Shut up, dickwad," Dillon said with mock indignation, "before I beat your ass." The four of them turned their attention back to the scene in the window next door to find they had missed the rest of it with their quarreling and the buxom woman had readjusted her clothing and was typing away as if nothing had happened. The three older guys got to their feet and started to go inside. Thomas turned back. "You wouldn't know what to do with a woman like that, even if you got her." Josh didn't answer, silently leaning back against the step, staring out into the starry sky until he heard the door click shut. "Fuck you," he muttered in frustration, turning his head to watch the neighbour. He'd heard her husband call her by name the other day. Allison. Allie. He tried the name out, whispering it out loud. Spurred on by the insults, by the need to prove something (to himself mainly), and by his naturally impetuous nature, he leapt to his feet and before he fully realized it, he was standing on her front step, knocking on her door. *** Her heartbeat had just returned to its normal cadence and the shakiness at her uncustomary brazenness has subsided for the most part. Now that the moment had passed, she was a little embarrassed at her spontaneous exhibitionism. What if Old Mr. Panders had been out walking his dog? I'd probably have triggered a heart attack. Oh well, it was such a brief thing that it's unlikely anyone even saw me. She had almost convinced herself that it had gone unnoticed when she was startled by a knock at the door. "Just a moment," she called, as she ran to grab her robe, wondering who it could be, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps it was related to her recent...activity. God, I really hope it's not the cops! But this IS the privacy of my own home. And I AM allowed to do whatever I want in my own house. It's not my fault if someone decides to stand outside my window and watch. Is it? She was still tying her robe around her waist as she unlocked the knob and opened the door. So sure was she that it would be a uniformed police officer that she couldn't have been more startled-and relieved-to find the fresh-faced young man standing there. For a moment they both just stood there, looking at each other in confused silence. "Can I...help you?" He looked vaguely familiar and she tried to place him, watching him shift uncomfortably as he searched for something to say. He felt like an even bigger idiot now than he had on the lawn with Thomas. He'd found himself knocking on the door before he even had a chance to figure out what to say. Although, he now suspected that even if he had had a hundred years, he still wouldn't have devised something to say. "I...I...I really have no idea what I'm doing here," he said foolishly with a shake of his head. "I'll...just be going now." His embarrassed grin and flushed cheeks made her smile and she found herself intrigued with the cute young thing on her doorstep. She put her hand out to touch his arm. "Wait." He turned back towards her. "You're one of the boys that lives next door, aren't you?" It hadn't taken her long to figure out where she knew him from. He was the one who seemed to take the greatest notice of her, the one who was always so quick with a smile. He had looked awfully cute from a distance and she wasn't disappointed with her closer look. "Yeah, I'm Josh," he said, extending his hand. She returned it with a firmness that both surprised him and yet somehow didn't. "And so tell me, Joshie, what brought you to my doorstep tonight?" Her tone was coy and she watched him intently, a little smile on her lips. She already had a good idea, but wanted to hear it from his mouth, to verify that the knock on the door and her spontaneous show at the window were indeed connected. The shakiness from earlier had returned. Somehow her life had taken a swift curve to the right and she was finding herself on an unfamiliar but exciting path that could very well lead to trouble. She didn't feel daunted by this realization. "I don't...know exactly. I just...well, I was sitting on the lawn and then before I knew it, here I was. I sometimes don't think things through logically. I tend to follow my instincts. Sometimes it works out; more often than not, though, it gets me in trouble." Trouble. So she wasn't the only one who had caught the faint scent of danger in the potential of the situation. She contemplated sending him back home before this went any further. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" WHERE did THAT come from? He looked as surprised as she felt at the question and that made her giggle. "Well? Would you?" "Uhhh, sure, I guess." He stepped inside, looking more than a little uncomfortable as she closed the door. She followed his gaze to the window by the desk. "You really should get blinds," he murmured, cheeks aflame. "It's...well, we have a really clear view inside your house from our front yard." "So I hear." His eyes snapped to her face. "You DID know we could see you!" Now it was her turn to blush. "I really don't know what came over me. That was a little out of character for me." They both stood awkwardly, her pulling her robe closer, him with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The ticking of the clock above the kitchen sink seemed incredibly loud in the silence. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked quickly, her words coming out in a rush. "Did I en-yes." He hesitated, cleared his throat and then added, "Well, I would have enjoyed it more if it had been just me. Some people don't have, well, the best attitude towards women." She nodded. "I see." A pause as she let his words sink in. "Well, I guess they won't be getting an encore then, will they? No sense wasting that on people who don't appreciate it." He could sense her deep embarrassment and tried to soothe her pride. "No, it wasn't like that. They think you are very attractive, as do I...it's just that...I don't know...they just see you as another hot woman, not as a person. They don't see you as I do." His tone had softened at the end, belying the tenderness he felt towards her. She looked at him curiously and took a couple steps closer. "And how exactly DO you see me?" She was intrigued by him now, by the realization that he had thought of her in this context long before she so blatantly exposed her sexuality, that she had been on his mind as more than just a passing thought, that what she had deemed to be only casual passing encounters had fueled something more intense inside of him. He glanced again towards the window and then back at her, only a couple feet separating them now. "I can't...do this in front of the open window. They are probably all inside but I just keep feeling like they are watching, staring, laughing at me." She stared at the window for a moment. "Nice bunch of friends you have." "They aren't really my friends. It's my brother and his two friends. They are just nice enough to let me live there." He paused for a moment, then grinned wryly. "And be their slave." She chuckled and winked at him. "Well, now, if I had a slave, I'd be sure to always keep him happy." He laughed. "If I'm understanding your meaning correctly, I don't WANT them to keep me happy THAT way." She laughed with him. "Very good point." His eyes met hers. "But I wouldn't argue if it were you." "I could use a slave," she said softly. "I would happily do whatever you wanted." "Anything?" There was no mistaking her intent now and she bit her lip, waiting for his response. "Yes." The silence as they held each other's gaze was ripe with promise, both of pleasure and of trouble. "Then come over tomorrow evening and help me hang blinds." Her voice was low and he leaned in to catch her next words. "Then we won't have to worry about an unappreciative audience. I've always been a much bigger fan of private shows, anyway." Who Needs Blinds? Ch. 03 She doublechecked her measurements against the blinds in her cart to be sure she had the correct sizes for the living room windows. It had been a casual statement at breakfast, the fact that she was going shopping for window coverings, that caused her husband to freeze with his spoonful of Frosted Flakes halfway to his mouth. His grateful smile--and the realization that he thought it was because of his concern from the evening before--made her flush in guilty embarrassment. The sudden rosiness of her cheeks made him reach out and pat her arm in reassurance. "It's okay, honey," he had said soothingly. "They're just typical boys who can't help but watch a beautiful woman when they get the chance. We'll get those blinds up and then you won't have to worry about anyone invading your privacy." She had just nodded silently, the flushed a deep crimson now, watching him as he got up, leaving his bowl of sugary milk and soggy flakes on the table beside the opened box of cereal and the litre of milk, and headed for the front door. He had knocked his shoes together, the dried bits of mud spattering on the floor, before leaning against the wall to put them on. "I'll be gone until Sunday night for this music festival. I'll help you with the blinds when I get home." He'd came over and given her a kiss on the forehead. "Don't miss me too much!" "I'll try not to," she'd managed to reply with forced joviality and a tight smile, but he was already out the door. With a sigh, she'd finished her tea and started cleaning the kitchen, wondering how her life had become so boring, so routine, so passionless. Her hand had started to shake as she wiped up the ring of milk from his cereal bowl when she thought of the night before. Had that really been her? It seemed so far away, so distant, surreal, as if she'd dreamed it. She'd been restless all night, feigning sleep when Matthew had come home, feeling guilty and not sexually drawn to him at that moment. Even when he'd snuggled up behind her in his post-practice routine, his erection hard against her ass, wanting that quick release that would bring him down from his musical high and help him sleep, she'd laid still, forcing her breathing to be deep and regular. After rubbing against her for a couple minutes, he had given up, rolled over, and the bed had moved to the quick rhythm of dry skin on skin. Ordinarily she was compelled to always be his release, to forever be readily available for his satisfaction, religiously believing that if you're being a good wife your man never should have to masturbate, but last night the desire to cater to his sexual whims was strangely absent. She'd pondered this as she wiped the counters and put the dishes into the dishwasher. Now, waiting in the long checkout line, she wondered exactly what she was doing. 'I'm just buying blinds. Everyone has blinds. It means nothing. He probably won't even come over tonight. The blinds will be good. A physical barrier between me and the temptation to repeat last night's brazen impulsive exhibitionism. That's it. I'm just going to put them up and pretend nothing ever happened.' She glanced at the checkout line to her right to see a middle-aged woman and the child in her cart staring at her, and she realized she'd been muttering out loud. She pulled out her list of measurements and pretended to be engrossed in the numbers until it was her turn to pay. Pulling into her driveway, she couldn't help but glance at the house next door. All seemed still. She hurriedly carried the blinds into the house and dumped them on the floor. 'If I get them up before tonight, then I can just tell him I don't need his help and downplay the rest of the interchange we'd had. A slave! Pffff! Who would take anyone seriously about that anyway? Absurd.' She pulled out the instructions and groaned. "Easy to assemble" was always a lie. By the time she'd sorted out the hardware, found all the tools she would need, and dug the stepladder out of the garage, it was midafternoon. She decided to do the window by her desk first, to tackle the most obvious line of sight from the currently still house next door. No sign of activity whatsoever, she noted to herself. Must be nice to sleep all day. She hadn't even gotten the second bracket in before her shoulder started aching from reaching and pushing while turning the screwdriver to attempt to drive the screw into the hard wooden window frame. She dropped her arm, shaking it out, closing her eyes and leaning her head to the left to stretch out the tense shoulder muscles. When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking down at Josh, who was watching her. She quickly hid the screwdriver behind her back and gave a little wave. He said something to her that she couldn't hear and cursed her inability to read lips. Slowly she opened the window. "Hi," she said awkwardly, giving him a polite smile. He knitted his brow in nervous unsurety, and finally blurted out, "Wasn't I going to help you with that?" He looked so awkward and confused, and a little hurt, and she felt bad. "Yes. Yes, of course. I just thought...I just thought I'd get a little headstart on it. It looks like a bigger project than I anticipated." She gave him a warm smile, hoping to see the unhappiness on his cute face dissolve. He stared at her for a moment, his hands shoved deep in his pocket, waffling between hope and feeling a fool. The silence grew and she felt herself wanting him to look at her again the way he did last night as he was leaving, felt a desire inside her that she hadn't felt for the last few years of her married life. "Why don't you come over right now and help? I'll make you dinner." He searched her face and then gave her a big smile that she returned immediately. "Alright, just let me changed and I'll be right there." As he hurried off into his house, she slowly stepped off the ladder and wondered what had happened to her common sense. She was a married woman, for goodness sakes, and inviting over a young man who so obviously had a crush on her couldn't possibly lead to anything good. 'Is this what a midlife crisis feels like? I'm hardly old enough to be at my midlife!! I'm not a dissatisfied housewife. Am I?' She had barely had time to start making sense of her thoughts when the doorbell rang and he was there, holding a bottle of red wine, which made her purse her lips to contain her embarrassed smile as she felt her cheeks flush. Yes, red wine is what I prefer and, of course, he would know that. She opened it to let it breathe, and when she came back, he was already poring over the instructions and organizing the hardware, lost in thought. She watched him for a minute, savouring the intensity of his concentration, the cute way he bit his lip and frowned when he was trying to figure something out, the contour of his young lean frame as he kneeled on the floor. Impulsively she walked over to stand right in front of him. He looked up inquisitively, innocently, waiting to see what she wanted, and for a moment the word slave flashed across her consciousness. She felt an unfamiliar surge of power fill her, mischievous, daring. He waited, his eyes never leaving her face. With a slight smile, she slid her right foot forward. "Take off my shoe for me." He stared at her for a moment, then gently placed one hand behind her heel while the other one removed her black flat. He softly caressed her bare foot before delicately guiding it to the floor. When he looked back up at her for approval, she suddenly felt overwhelmed and unable to speak. Her eyes held his as she nodded, her face intensely serious, sliding her other foot forward. His eyes never left hers as he did the same for the second shoe. The moment was thick and sweet as chocolate gelato, as they stayed frozen for what seemed an eternity, him on his knees, her towering over him. She reached down to tenderly touch his cheek with her palm, then turned and fled into the kitchen. Shaking, she peeled the potatoes and tossed them with olive oil and seasonings, silently berating herself for continuing this charade. 'This couldn't possibly lead to anything; why am I leading him on like this? Why do I find it so appealing to have this young handsome man so willing to do whatever I want, when I am already married? Married to a man who provides a good enough wage that I don't have to work, that the bills are all paid, that I don't have any financial worries. Married to a man who was gone to rehearsals and shows five out of seven nights, and who spent the other two making love to his guitar in the basement before coming upstairs to have sex with his wife.' The sex was a formula now: a long kiss while he squeezed her left buttcheek, a grope or two of her right breast while kissing her neck for ten seconds, then the hands disrobing her, pushing her onto the bed, and less than five minutes of thrusting. Even her sounds were now rote, the same moans at the same places, the same whispered words of encouragement (he particularly liked it when she would beg him to cum in her, fill her), and the same expressions afterward. The rolling over, the pulling of her head to his shoulder, the kiss on the forehead, the "good night" and the snoring. She could script it out for a stand-in and he may not even notice that the woman beneath him was different, she thought angrily as she pounded the steaks with a mallet. Realizing her frustration, she paused, looking at the mallet, wondering where all this pentup negativity was coming from. 'I'm happily married,' she told herself firmly, resuming the pounding. "How do you like your steak?" she asked from the doorway, watching his biceps flex as he easily secured the brackets that she'd been struggling with earlier. He finished tightening the screw and nimbly jumped down from the stepladder. "Medium-rare, please." He tossed her a happy little smile and went in search of the next pieces he needed. She wiped her hands on her apron and cleared her throat. "You know I'm married, right?" He nodded and looked at her, waiting. "I just wanted to make it clear that I won't cheat on my husband. I just . . . I'm just not the type to do that." She half-smiled almost apologetically and looked away. His voice was soft. "That's not why I'm here. I'm not trying to get you into bed." She glanced over at him, where he was busying himself a little too much with the instructions. She was confused and felt a little foolish. She walked over to where he was kneeling, comparing screws to the illustrations on the paper. His cheeks were flushed and he didn't look at her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. I just..." She trailed off, scrutinizing him, trying to figure out what he meant. "Then why are you here? Why do you want to help me?" He kind of shook his head and struggled to find the words. "I don't know exactly. I just like to please women, to help them, to make them happy. I've always felt like this and I know it's weird but I just like to see the smile on their faces, to know that I've done something for them. I think women are beautiful and I have so much respect for them. I can't even explain it." His voice dropped and she had to lean in to hear it. "I would never expect you to pay me back like that. Just seeing you happy is good enough." She thought for a moment and then took him by the chin and turned his face up towards her. "Look at me. Do you really mean that? You're not just feeding me a line and then later you're going to try to seduce me with your cute innocence?" He shook his head earnestly and flushed more. She looked him over while she digested this. He SEEMED genuine . . . except for the bulge in his shorts. She smiled. "I think a certain part of your body is betraying your words." He flushed deeper. "I will admit that it's arousing to please you, to do things for you, to have you tell me what to do. I like it when women take control. But I would never ever take advantage of you." He looked at her earnestly. "I would do anything you asked of me and then just leave if that is what you wanted and I'd be happy. Aroused, yes, but I would take care of that later." "Hmmm." She thought about that. "Anything?" He nodded. "Clean my floors?" He nodded again. "Iron my clothes?" "Yes, ma'am." "Wear my panties and dust my house?" He swallowed hard and before he could reply, the twitch in his shorts answered for him. She smiled, surprised but very pleased with the direction this was taking. She thought of the mess left in the kitchen for her to clean up that morning, the way her life seemed to revolve around a guitar, the way she had seemed to have become a piece of property for her husband to jealously guard but not cherish. When she didn't say anything more, he whispered one word. "Please." "Alright. Here is what I will offer you. We will have set times for you to come over and be my little slave. You will clean my house, rub my feet, bring me tea, whatever it is that makes me happy and my life easier. And in return, when I am done with you, I will give you the panties that I'm wearing and you can have alone time with them for 30 minutes in the bathroom. Whatever you want to do with them. Wear them, sniff them, wrap them around you and have release . . . I will not let you take them next door where those other nasty boys could find them but you can use them here. And if I want to watch, you will let me. After all, I think I might like watching more than being watched. Does that work for you?" He was looking at her incredulously, almost in awe of what she was saying. The adoration of the boy at her feet was a totally new experience and she was finding herself very aroused. She leaned down to his ear. "I think I might like this arrangement even more than you. There are some very wet panties for you for when you have those blinds hung." And with that she turned and walked into the kitchen to grill the steaks.