2 comments/ 33224 views/ 0 favorites View from the Window Ch. 01 By: sharpchick Adrienne Adrienne pulled into the driveway of the rent house, and got out of the car. She had only two more weeks of leave left, and she wasn't sure she'd be finished with the work on the house by the time she had get back into the daily grind. Still, taking the month off to finalize the divorce and get moved had been a good idea. She had been so busy with manual labor she'd hardly had time to continue to obsess about the failure of her eight year marriage. "God," Adrienne thought, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" The rent was affordable, but to get it, she'd had to promise the landlord that all the cosmetic improvements to the house would be at her own expense. And there was going to be plenty of expense. The interior and exterior needed a fresh coat of paint, the kitchen and bathroom cabinets needed new hardware, and she had taken up the carpet in three rooms to expose hardwood floors that seemed to be in decent shape. She still had to haul the old carpet outside, but the sanitation company hadn't brought the dumpster yet. Adrienne had budgeted enough to hire house painters for the outside, but the rest was going to be strictly DIY. That way, she could buy quality supplies. That would come after the clean-up. The previous tenants had just abandoned stuff they hadn't wanted to take with them. Adrienne and a couple of her girlfriends had rented a truck, and spent all last weekend lugging that junk away. Zoe and Claire made sure they didn't bitch about aches and pains when they got back to the office on Monday. According to Zoe, most of the men in their office had thought it "cute" when they learned who was on Adrienne's moving crew - two more women. But the three of them were fully capable of moving out the old tenants' cast-offs, and would be able to handle Adrienne's minimal furniture as well. Determined and stubborn to a fault, Adrienne had decided to stay away from men for at least six months. Having women help her move was just part of that plan. The former renters also apparently had never washed a window in the house in the six years they lived here. After finishing the packing in the condo she'd shared with her husband (make that "ex" now), she had come to the new house this evening - to wash the windows from the inside tonight. She would wait to wash the outsides till after the painters were done. She unloaded newspapers and her window cleaner in the small foyer, and thought about where to start. "Might as well be the top," she decided and took several stacks of newspapers and her sprayer up the small flight of stairs to the only room on the upper floor of the house. This was the one she had chosen for her study, as there was another room downstairs that she preferred for her bedroom that had a connecting bath. She walked over to the bay window that dominated the east wall of the room. When she had looked at the house, she had been delighted to see that there was even a window seat, and it had storage underneath. Dropping the window seat cushions on the floor, she started crumpling up newspaper to use to wipe the window cleaner off the glass. Her grandma had sworn windows could only be streak-free when wiped down with newspaper. Adrienne had done as Grandma said, and so far, it had always worked. She climbed up on the window seat and got to work. Sometime later, she was almost through with the window, coming around the last curve in the bay. A flash of light through the leafless limbs of the winter trees caught her eye, and she stopped to look for the source of it. It burned steadily, and as her eyes adjusted to the receding light of the day, she was able to make out the source of the light – a lamp that had been turned on in a room in the house next door. It was a table lamp, sitting on a small table beside what looked to be a brown leather couch. She caught herself mentally inventorying her neighbors' living room or den, and stopped short. Adrienne was mildly surprised. The houses in the neighborhood were on decent sized lots – all probably built about thirty-five to forty years ago. Hers was the only one on this side of the street that had two stories – well, okay, a story and a half – and she guessed that this perspective, plus the leafless trees, had created a seasonal breach of privacy for her neighbors. She wondered if they could see her, too, if they stood in the right place. A six foot privacy fence created a barrier around the small side yard and enclosed the entire backyard, so she supposed no one had a view from ground level. She was about to spray the last panes of glass when she saw a man and a woman come into the room. "Guess those are the neighbors," she thought. The woman, petite with short blond hair, came closer to the window, and reached over her head for something. As she raised her arms, the bare-chested man came up behind her, and reaching around in front of her body, cupped her breasts in his hands. Jerking away from him, the woman began to squirm determinedly out of his grasp, and turned to face him, making exasperated gestures with her hands. Adrienne could only guess at the dialogue, as she saw the man raise his hands palm out toward his wife, in a manner that clearly suggested he was pleading his case. But his wife was having none of it. Before she strode out of view (and Adrienne supposed, out of the room), Adrienne was able to see the look on her face, and it was angry, not the look of a woman aroused by her man's sexual advances. The man looked pissed, and walked to the window, just staring out of it. Adrienne backed up a little, not wanting to risk having him look up, and realize that someone had just seen this very private moment. She felt sorry for him, as she saw his look of frustration change to one of resignation. He closed his eyes, and began to rub his jeans-clad crotch with one hand. Then, to her amazement, he unzipped his jeans and took out his erect cock, stroking it slowly, right in front of the window. Adrienne's heart beat faster now, and almost unconsciously, she crept closer to the window. The room behind her was darkened, since she hadn't bothered turning on the light when she started washing the window. She stood transfixed, watching the man as he pumped his cock faster with one hand, while easing his jeans slightly down his hips with the other to allow him to cup and tug his balls with his free hand. With his head tilted slightly back and eyes tightly closed, his cock erupted, shooting streams of cum toward the window. He continued to stroke - slower now, cum dripping over his hands, till he was spent. He opened his eyes, wiped his hands on his jeans and zipped them up. As he turned away, Adrienne leaned back against one wall of the bay window, breathing rapidly. Her pussy was swollen and wet – she could feel it through her panties. The scene she had just witnessed had left her incredibly aroused – and embarrassed as well. She had to get curtains or a shade for the bay window as soon as possible. __________________________ The next morning found Adrienne hard at work. She had been at the house since just before sunrise, cleaning and setting up her kitchen and bathroom, which amazingly were in good shape and painted in just the colors she liked – pale yellow in the kitchen and a warm beige with just a touch of pink in the bath. All she needed to complete in those rooms was replacing the old hinges and knobs on the cabinets, and she had the new ones in a box in the car. She wandered through the downstairs rooms with a cup of coffee in her hand. Most of her coffee spilled when she backed into the living room, tripping over the first of three rolls of old carpet she'd dragged in there after ripping it up off the floor. "Shit. . . that's the last damn time I'm tripping over this," she said aloud to no one in particular. She set the coffee cup down in a windowsill, and went to open the front door. Dumpster or not, the carpet was going outside now. She had to have room to spread the drop cloths when she started painting later anyway. Adrienne tackled the job of getting the carpet out of the living room and through the front door with the same strategy she used for everything else – she tried to outwit it. She momentarily studied the roll of carpet, and angled it so she could back out the door, dragging it with her. Grunting with the effort of hauling the damn thing around to the right angle, she was already sweating as she started pulling on the grungy carpet, stray hair from her ponytail sticking to the side of her neck. What she hadn't taken into account was the narrow width of the opening in the doorway, and finding that the roll of carpet was just an inch or so wider than the passage through which it had to come. No matter how hard she tried to squeeze the end of the roll up to at least start to get it through, there seemed to be no budging it. "Looks like you need some help." So focused as she was on the task at hand, the deep voice behind Adrienne startled her, causing her to fall backward from her squatting position in the doorway to land unceremoniously on her butt on the porch. She turned to look over her shoulder, only to find the man from next door looking down at her. Adrienne turned a deep red as she started to get to her feet. Bret He loaded Cynthia's suitcase and garment bag in the car for her. This was the fourth buying trip in two months. He knew she was crazy about her job, but he also suspected she was trying to spend as much time away from him as she could. She had jumped at the chance to take the job, even when he protested the travel schedule. The trips were never shorter than five days and one had been nine. He couldn't understand when and why the closeness they had shared had disappeared. Sex was almost non-existent, and on the rare occasions when she agreed to make love, he could tell Cynthia's mind was a million miles away. They had been together for almost four years, and only married for the last two. He guessed his buddies had been right when they told him marriage could fuck up a perfectly good relationship. His sex life now seemed to be relegated to jacking off damn near every night of the week. Like last night. A mid-winter break in the landscaping business he owned with his brother made it possible for Bret to be home before Cynthia on most days, and sometimes he was home all day long. Yesterday had been one of the days he was home all day, and he had gone the extra mile to make sure that Cynthia wouldn't have a thing to do around the house when she got home. He had gotten her favorite wine, and put on a few tunes they both enjoyed. When she came in from work, he had encouraged her to sit down, drink some wine, and enjoy the music. They had even sung a couple of their favorites together, just like they used to. Everything had been going so well, until Cynthia had gotten up abruptly and wandered off to the den. He had followed, not wanting to lose the mood. When he reached around her to touch her breasts, she exploded, pushing him away and screaming at him that all he thought about was sex. The look of disgust on her face when she stomped out of the room was getting just too damned familiar. She had run to her bedroom – that's what it was now, her bedroom – slamming the door behind her. He had briefly considered following her, but just couldn't stand one more night of pleading with his wife through a closed door to come out and pay some attention to him. So he stayed in the den, feeling a mixture of resentment, anger and unrequited lust, his cock still hard and throbbing in his pants. As he rubbed himself through the denim, he imagined Cynthia's hand on his dick, and her fingers unzipping his fly. Stroking lightly at first, he remembered a time when she had been eager to kneel in front of him. . . her breath and the touch of her lips on his rigid cock as she began licking and teasing the head with her tongue, giving him chills and making his heart pound. As his fist closed tighter around his shaft, he fantasized about taking her from behind, there in the floor, pounding his cock into her tight, wet pussy, and taking both of them into a shuddering orgasm that would leave them both breathless and lying in a heap together on the rug. And as his cock erupted, shooting streams of cum, he could almost hear Cynthia whispering to him, "Oh yes, baby, cum with me. . . I want it all." He wondered if he would be left with only the memories. As he closed the trunk of Cynthia's car, he noticed the neighbor next door, struggling with something in her doorway. She was poised in a semi-squat position, and even with the sweatpants she wore, he could tell she had a really fine ass. Whatever it was she was tugging on seemed to be getting the best of her. He thought he'd do the neighborly thing and offer to help. As he walked across her driveway and came near to her porch, he could hear her cussing under her breath as she tugged futilely on a roll of carpet that was stuck in the doorway. "Looks like you need some help." She must not have heard him as he came up the steps, because he obviously startled the hell out of her. She jumped, and as she did, fell backwards out of the doorway, landing on that fine ass on the porch at his feet. She looked up at him, her face red as a beet. View from the Window Ch. 02 Adrienne "Oh my God, I am so clumsy." Adrienne was mortified. If this guy only knew about last night, he might not be so friendly. She took the hand he offered, and almost leapt to her feet, mostly because he pulled her all the way up. "Must do some physical labor in his job," she thought to herself. "Hey, I'm sorry I startled you. My name is Bret Martin. I live next door. Looked like you were having a hard time. What are you doing – trying to get that roll of carpet out?" Bret smiled at the woman and was relieved to see that she returned the smile. Damn, she had a gorgeous smile, and huge, dark eyes you could get lost in. He brought himself back to reality, still smiling at her. "Why don't you let me take care of that for you? I'll take it out to the curb. Won't take but a couple of minutes." "Oh, you don't have to do that – and actually, that is just the first of three. And to think, I had thought I'd just kind of stack them up on each other and pull them all out together. By the way, I'm Adrienne Morgan." She stuck her hand out to shake his, and was surprised at the pleasant tingle coursing through her body as their hands touched again. This was one hot man. Briefly it crossed her mind that she couldn't imagine any woman telling him "no." "Well if there are three, then I am definitely taking care of this," Bret insisted. "I hope you don't find this sexist, but I just think this type of chore is something that a man should do." In response, Adrienne stepped aside. "Be my guest then, Bret." It took longer than the predicted couple of minutes, but Bret didn't even scratch the doorframe getting all three carpets out and up to the street. Even though the morning air had been crisp, the sun had come up now, and both Bret and Adrienne had broken a sweat from the exertion of moving the carpets. Adrienne thought it only neighborly to ask him if she could get him a cup of coffee or a cold drink. She moved through the open living room door, motioning for him to follow. "It's the least I can do to thank you for moving that carpet for me. I guess I underestimated what a job it would be. Come on in." Bret followed her, appreciating the rear view. As he entered the living room, Adrienne continued on, into the kitchen he supposed, unzipping and taking off her sweatshirt before throwing in onto a box, next to which were several gallons of paint and a bunch of dropcloths. She had a tank top on underneath, the kind Bret's brother called a "wife beater." And underneath that, curves. . . . all of them very apparent to Bret. She turned to face him. All he noticed were her breasts, unrestrained. He felt his cock start stirring in his pants, and moved over to stand in front of the kitchen sink, hoping she couldn't tell. But she seemed oblivious, turning to get him a cup of coffee, as she said over her shoulder, "If you need to wash your hands, there's soap on the sink and a roll of paper towels on the counter. How do you like your coffee? I don't have cream, but there is milk." A few minutes later, Bret and Adrienne stood in the kitchen, talking like old friends over coffee. She told him about the deal she had made with the landlord, and how much stuff the previous tenants had left. He asked to see the rest of the house. "I've wondered how much room there was upstairs. From the outside of the house, it doesn't look like much." "It's not, "Adrienne agreed, "But it really is a very charming and cozy space. I'm going to use it for my study. Come on and take a look." With Adrienne leading, Bret took the stairs two at a time. They entered Adrienne's study, and he immediately noticed the bay window, as well as the window seat. "Very nice," he said, as he moved over to the window. "You're really in the treetops here in the summer. Does the window open?" He began looking for a latch. "The middle part does. . . I checked it last night when I was cleaning the window." Adrienne moved a little closer to the window, and wrestled with her thoughts. "Should I just buy a damn shade and be done with it?" she wondered, "Or should I tell him I can see in?" "Oh, you were here last night. I didn't know you'd been back before now since you and your friends moved all that junk. I started to come over then, but the three of you looked like you had it under control." Bret smiled at her as he spoke and then turned to look out the window. "Boy, that pecan tree next to this wall needs some trimming. . . want me to take care of it for you? You don't need those branches rubbing on the roof, and it would improve your view." Adrienne just blurted it out in a rush of breath. "Actually, Bret, the view this time of year is pretty good. Is your couch Italian leather?" Bret looked at her, puzzled, and then back out the window and slowly down – into his own house. "Oh my God," she thought. "I am so busted." Bret He looked back out the window. What the hell was she talking about? There wasn't a single leaf to be seen, and even though today was sunny, most days lately had been pretty overcast and gray. His eyes moved downward as Adrienne asked about the couch, and over the fence, he saw Cynthia pulling out of the driveway. She wasn't even going to say good-bye this time. She had only left him a note, reminding him about putting the garbage out on Wednesday, with a PS asking him if he'd load her bags in the car. The limited discussion they'd had this morning was through the bathroom door while she was getting ready. "No, Cynthia and I couldn't afford Italian leather when we first got together. Why do you ask?" "Bret, I can see in your house from here. Oh, don't worry, I'll get a shade, but last night as it got dark, and a light went on in there, I could see pretty clearly." Adrienne had turned and busied herself with a box of books behind them. Bret stood speechless. What had she seen? Had she been there when Cynthia and he argued? Or was it afterward? He tried to remember if Cynthia had turned the lamp on before or after they had come into the den together. He looked at Adrienne, much busier in the box of books than was necessary, and suddenly realized what she meant. He felt a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and wondered just how long she had watched - and if it had turned her on. His thoughts crowded over each another in a dizzying rush, and as he looked at her back, he wondered how she would be in bed, on all fours – that incredible ass his for the taking . . . He cleared his throat, and Adrienne stood and turned to face him. "The shade's on the 'to-do' list," she said. "I just thought you should know about the view." "Well, thanks for the heads-up. But I wouldn't want you to go to any expense on my account." He grinned at her as he walked toward the door of the study. "Hey, Adrienne, thanks for the coffee. And it was really great to meet you. I'm going to get out of your hair now, and let you get back to work. Do you mind if I go ahead and trim that pecan tree for you? We've had the usual winter slump at the nursery, and I need some exercise." ________________________ She was painting the walls in her study. From the extension ladder, Bret could see Adrienne working, rolling paint on the walls with smooth, sensuous movements that accentuated her ass and the curve upward to her back. Once, she had turned and stuck her tongue out at him when she sensed him watching her. At midday, she had opened the window, and asked him if he wanted some lunch or something to drink. He'd taken the offer of a coke, and pulled the screen off the window so she could hand it out to him. She set the screen inside the room, and when she bent over, he could see the rosy color of her nipples. He surreptitiously adjusted his hardening cock in his pants as he contemplated taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first, till it stiffened in his mouth and he heard her moan. He had only a fleeting moment of guilt as he daydreamed about fucking the woman he met only this morning. Cynthia sure as hell didn't want it – why should she begrudge someone else? He finished trimming all the branches, and leaned on the windowsill to ask Adrienne for the screen. As she handed it out to him, a sudden blast of wind threatened to take the screen into orbit and both of them held on tightly to it. It did not escape his notice that Adrienne's nipples responded quickly to the cool breeze. He let his hand pause momentarily on hers as he took the screen and replaced it. "I'll be going now, unless there's something else you need, Adrienne." Adrienne "Unless there's something else you need," she thought. "Whoa girl, this is a married, albeit sexually frustrated man, and you are a newly divorced woman – a potentially deadly combination." She had noticed the bulge in his pants a number of times when she had turned to look at him working, and felt a slight thrill that she had not completely lost the ability to make a man rise to the occasion. "Oh, no, you have gone above and beyond the call of neighborly duty, Bret. I wish you'd let me pay you for trimming that tree for me. I really have a thing about paying my own way, and I hate to be indebted to anyone." Bret grinned at her as he lowered his tools to the ground, watching to make sure everything got down safely. "It was my pleasure, Adrienne. Maybe you can make me some dinner sometime. That ought to make us even. . . Guess I'll go on home now and clean up. But you just let me know if there's anything you need. Are you staying here now, or waiting till the official moving day?" Adrienne paused before offering her reply. "I know it sounds silly, but I brought a sleeping bag and thought if I had finished this room, I'd just sleep up here tonight. The movers are coming in a couple of days with the rest of my stuff. I'll have to get the rest of the interior of the house painted by then." "It's not silly at all, Adrienne. I think it's cool that you are pumped about moving in here and starting a new page in your life. Just let me know if there's something you need. I should be around here for the next few days." Bret started down the ladder. Adrienne briefly watched him go, then turned around to the mess behind her. Her aching muscles demanded a long, hot bath, complete with a glass of wine. She had the candles packed away somewhere in the bags in the car. Just what the doctor ordered, she thought, as she began to drag the drop-cloths toward the stairs. As she considered the newly painted room, complete with unobstructed view, she wondered what she might see if she looked out the bay window tonight. View from the Window Ch. 03 As he walked back toward his own house, Bret struggled with his conscience about his next move. Ordinarily, he would have showered, gotten something to eat, and settled in to watch any one of a number of play-off games on TV. The satellite made program selections much more complex than was necessary, he thought – kind of like fast food menu options these days. Too much information, and too many choices. But Adrienne was spending the night in her newly painted room. And thanks to Bret, she had a completely unobstructed view of his den – the room in his home in which Bret felt most comfortable these days. . . the room where he spent most of his time. He wondered if she would take advantage of that view, and if he should make it worth her while to do so. When she had told him how easy it was to see in the window, Bret had sensed only momentary discomfort in Adrienne, more like embarrassment for him than anything else. And the fleeting embarrassment he had felt was quickly replaced by arousal that his sexy new neighbor had watched him as he stroked himself in front of his window. He wondered if watching him had made her pussy wet – had she stood in the shadows and let her fingers wander down into her panties, stroking herself until she found the release the visual image of his hard cock made her crave? All the books said men were the visual members of the species, but Adrienne had not protested when he'd told her not to bother with buying a shade on his account. Was that her way of sending him a subtle message? Bret stripped off as soon as he got inside the house. With Cynthia gone, there would be no one to bitch at him for leaving clothes lying around, and he'd have plenty of time to get the house back in shape before she got back. He surveyed the contents of the refrigerator briefly before grabbing a beer and heading to the shower. The combination of the steamy shower and pondering Adrienne's curves without her clothes on gave him a hard-on, and he was tempted to take matters in hand then and there. But he'd been in the shower long enough that the water would soon begin to cool, and it was time to get out. As he passed the thermostat in the hall, he kicked the heat up a little. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts and no shirt. The house was well insulated, and had no drafts to speak of. As he entered his den, he turned the stereo on. Slow, mellow jazz. . . very nice mood music. The drapes on the picture window were still open. Bret approached it, and looked up. Adrienne's study was dark. The decision had already been made. He sat down on the leather couch to wait. Adrienne Renting this house had been one of her wiser decisions, Adrienne thought as she soaked in the claw foot tub in the bathroom. She had poured herself a glass of wine and had a mellow jazz CD playing on the small stereo as she half laid and half floated in lavender scented bubbles. Finally, a tub she in which she could actually stretch out fully and soak all the aches from her tired and cramped muscles. She mentally reviewed her "to-do" list for making the house habitable, and allowed herself to feel proud of what she had accomplished so far. Her eight year marriage to Nick had almost completely stripped her of any shred of self-esteem, and it was exhilarating to take charge of something again, instead of constantly deferring to someone else's judgment about what needed to be done. She poured herself another glass of wine as she considered all the changes in her life in the last few months leading up to her divorce – the arguments over petty things, spending night after night alone, entire days of no verbal communication with Nick at all, even though his facial expressions and body language made clear his disdain for her. . . culminating in her discovery of him and his lover together in their bed one afternoon when she had gone home early from work to make his favorite supper. That had been the last straw. She had moved in with Zoe that very afternoon, and her best friend had held her wordlessly as Adrienne sobbed and screamed her agony through the night. Zoe had been the one to find the divorce attorney and it had been Zoe who went back to the condo to retrieve Adrienne's clothing and personal effects. She came out of the reverie right before her chin went underwater. Her arms and legs felt like lead, and the water was lukewarm, the palms of her hands and soles of her feet wrinkly as raisins. It was time to get out. She toweled try, and put on her favorite silk robe. After getting a refill on her wine, she went upstairs to admire her handiwork in her new study, and inflate the air mattress she had brought to put under her sleeping bag. Camping in her own house, she thought as she smiled to herself. This was about as close to camping as Adrienne got. She was definitely a city girl. Since the bay window in the study faced east, Adrienne knew that for most of the day she would have adequate natural light with which to work. She had already brought over the floor lamp she got from Grandma's when all the grandchildren and other relatives had finished taking what they wanted from the estate. She intended to use it by her desk when she arranged the furniture in the room. She knew what the paint looked like in natural light and was anxious to see if the color mellowed by lamplight as she thought it might. She clicked on the lamp and was delighted with what she saw. She played with placement of the lamp in the room, unplugging and re-plugging the cord as necessary, and admiring the shadows cast by the glow of the lamp. Twice she changed her mind abut where she wanted to put her desk, and wound up dragging the boxes of books out of the way to try and get a good visual image of how things would look. The room had gotten warm, and she decided to open the window just a crack to let in some fresh air. She saw the light come on in Bret's den as she was opening the window. Instantly, her mouth went dry. The timing was too incredible to be a coincidence. "He must have been down there, waiting," she thought. "Waiting for me to come to the window." She sat down hard on the window seat. In seconds, Bret moved out of the shadows. He was facing her, and looking up at her window. Shirtless and wearing a pair of gray gym shorts, she could make out every muscle in his arm as he lifted his hand to wave at her. Almost automatically, she waved back. Bret began stroking his cock through the front of his shorts, and then ran his tongue over his lips slowly, as he made a "come here" motion with the fingers of his other hand. Adrienne felt her nipples harden. She brought her legs up on the window seat and moved closer to the window. Bret "She's up there," Bret thought, as he saw a light come on in Adrienne's upstairs window. He sat in the shadows, his cock stiffening in his shorts, and waited to see if she would come straight to the window. She didn't, and intermittently, the light seemed to move throughout the room. What was she doing? Then, she appeared in the window, bent over to open it. Bret could see Adrienne's long dark hair fall over her shoulders, almost eclipsing his view of her face. She was wearing a robe, loosely tied, and it had opened generously at the front, teasing him with the possibility of seeing her breasts. He turned on the lamp beside the couch and stood up, moving the few steps to the window. He knew the instant she had seen his light. She looked quickly toward the source. Damn she was hot, he thought, as he watched a slow smile come across Adrienne's mouth. As she sat down on the window seat, he waved at her, and motioned for her to get closer. His dick was throbbing and he reached down to stroke it through the fabric of his shorts. He watched Adrienne's every move as he slid one hand under the waistband of his shorts, and let them fall to his feet on the floor. As his hard cock sprang out of his shorts, he cupped and tugged his balls with one hand, and began slowly stroking his pulsing rod. Adrienne felt the rush of wetness to her pussy. As she watched Bret stroking and caressing his cock and balls, the desire to be touched was overwhelming. She untied the belt on her robe, and it fell off her shoulders. She brought her hands up to her breasts, nipples hard and aching. Gliding the palms of her hands over the stiff peaks, she felt almost electric shocks race from her nipples down to her crotch. She closed her hands over her tits and squeezed, massaging the flesh and pinching her nipples. One hand crept down, over her belly and across her mound, to the folds of her juicy pussy. Bret mouthed, "Show me," to Adrienne, making sure his face was in the light. He hadn't been sure she could see that much detail, but then, she brought her knees up slightly, and parted them. The robe fell away completely, and Bret could see her hand, slowly stroking her pussy. The view he had at that moment was one of the most erotic he had ever seen. Adrienne, with her head tilted back and her legs parted, was rubbing her clit for him, and fingering her wet cunt. She lifted her fingers to her mouth, and sucked on them slowly, staring at him with those large, dark eyes, before burying them in her pussy. He moaned out loud then, and knew he was close to cumming as he pumped his shaft faster now, imagining her pussy muscles gripping him as the spasms of her own orgasm milked his cock. Adrienne's breath quickened as she felt herself beginning to peak. She fucked herself deeper with her fingers, arching her back slightly as her orgasm exploded in waves in her pussy, and resonated up into her belly. With delicious effort, she watched as Bret pumped his meaty cock faster, jets of spunk spurting as his fist slowed and then finally stopped. His chest was heaving and as he gave his softening dick a couple of strokes, he grinned up at Adrienne. She blew him a kiss, tweaking one still erect nipple as she turned off the light. _____________________________ In the semi-darkness of dawn, Bret bent over to pick up his newspaper off the lawn when he heard Adrienne call softly, "Good morning." He looked up to see her, standing beside her driveway, two steaming mugs of coffee in her hands. Wordlessly, they moved toward each other at the same time, meeting under the tree that separated the yards. "Good morning, yourself," he replied, as he took the mug from her, his fingers brushing her hand lightly as he looked down at her upturned face. View from the Window Ch. 04 Sincere thanks go to SlvrTongueDevil and Leraye1 for helping me through a dry spell while finishing this chapter. Adrienne The mug she held in both hands was steaming, but it wasn't coffee that made Adrienne's face hot. "I saw you out here and thought maybe you'd like some coffee," Adrienne said as she glanced down. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl, breaking daddy's curfew by sneaking out to meet her boyfriend. "Down, girl," she thought to herself. "He's married." Bret's broad grin was genuine. Damn, he felt good this morning. But Adrienne seemed almost embarrassed and shy. Once again, he briefly contemplated his new neighbor the way she had looked last night through the window. He shook himself out of the daydream. "Hey, want to come in and have coffee? I have a pot going, and I bet you haven't had time to get a subscription for the paper. You can read mine." Seeing her hesitate, he pressed on. "C'mon. . . you can take a look at my house, too, while you're at it, if you promise not to make 'girly' noises about the mess." Bret's grin and boyish attitude was infectious. Adrienne smiled back at him and said, "Well okay, but just a cup and a quick scan of the paper. I've got a living room to paint and quite a bit more cleaning to do before the movers get here tomorrow. And I'm sure you have more to do than entertain the new kid on the block." Bret resisted the urge to tell her how much pleasure "entertaining" her had brought him. For the next half hour, he also resisted numerous opportunities to touch Adrienne, refilling her coffee cup instead as they chatted like old friends at his kitchen table. His reward was her agreement to let him cook dinner for her that night, after each had taken care of their chores for the day. Bret Since the damned accountant had been late, things had taken longer at the office than he had anticipated, and Bret was late getting home from the grocery with the food for tonight's dinner. He had thought about getting candles – he had no idea where Cynthia kept them – but then decided that might scare Adrienne off for good. Better to just have some good music, he decided, and wondered what kind of music she liked as he looked through a stack of CDs. For the meantime, he decided on some classic rock to get his blood pumping as he got dinner ready. He also needed to tidy up, and get the steaks marinating. The salad would be easy enough – thank god for the bagged stuff they sold in the produce section now. He had just finished making the marinade and wiping up the resulting mess when the doorbell rang. Bret glanced at the clock – he sure as hell hoped it wasn't Adrienne yet, he wasn't halfway through with his preparations. Bret opened the door to find a neatly dressed young man on his porch, probably some kind of salesman. "Yes, can I help you with something?" "Are you Bret Martin?" The young man looked hopeful as he held out his hand with an envelope in it. "Yes, but what is this?" Bret took the envelope offered and turned it over, only to see Sudderth and Associates, Attorneys at Law, on the front, just as the young man told him, "Mr. Martin, you've been served." "I've been what? Wait, what the hell is this?" Bret stepped out onto the porch, but he was talking to the man's back as the process server climbed in a car and pulled slowly into the street. Adrienne She had knocked at first, and when she heard the roar of the music, she finally pounded on the door. Getting no answer, Adrienne opened the front door, and followed the sound of the blaring music. The only light she saw was in the kitchen. She went quickly in there and saw papers all over the floor, the morning newspaper, and an envelope that had been torn open. She could still see the return address of a law firm on it, and underneath the mangled envelope, a Complaint for Divorce, filed today. "Oh, damn her to hell," she thought. "The bitch didn't even have the decency to be in town when she did it." Adrienne followed the sound of rock and roll into the den. The room was lit only by the stereo equalizer, and at first, she didn't see Bret, sitting cross-legged in the floor in front of the sofa, with his head in his hands. She turned the music down, and walked over to where he sat. "Bret?" She knelt beside him. "Do you want to talk about it?" She reached out to touch his shoulder and he put his hand on top of hers. "Nothing to say. . . I've known she wasn't connected to 'us' any more, it was just a matter of time before one of us gave up the charade. She says I've been mentally cruel to her. It's not true, you know. I loved Cynthia." "Oh, my god, of course it's not true." Adrienne knelt beside Bret, and put her arms around his shoulders, her head touching his and swaying slowly. She murmured, "It'll be all right," as she comforted him and they held the embrace in silence. Bret felt her breasts against his head and damn, she smelled so good. He reached up and around her and pulled her into his lap. She struggled to sit up as his face came closer to hers, but he twined his fingers in her hair and kissed her fully on her parted lips, slowly and insistently pulling her closer to him as his tongue teased hers. She found herself returning the kiss and almost lost herself in it, but Bret pulled away far enough to start a warm, lazy trail with his lips down her cheek to her throat. Adrienne's half-hearted protests quieted as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling. Bret's lips moved to the pulse in her throat, and his hand moved down to cup her breast. Her nipple instantly responded, stiffening in the palm of his hand, and he teased the turgid peak with his fingers as he continued to nuzzle her throat with his lips. She arched up against his hand and he took her mouth with his again, sliding his hand down slowly down her body till his palm cupped her mound, squeezing gently. She felt his manhood, stiffening against the side of her body, and she wanted to touch him – to feel his cock get hard in her hand. Instead, she unbuttoned his shirt as she lightly nibbled his lips. "I need to taste you." He said it softly at first, then told her again. Bret rose to his knees from his sitting position, and still cradling her in his arms, lowered her to the floor. They faced each other, kissing and stroking as they peeled away the clothes that separated his warm flesh from hers. As she pulled her sweater over her head, Bret cupped Adrienne's bare breasts in his hands, gently tweaking her nipples, as she had done last night in front of her window. The tingling wetness of her pussy only added to the rush of sensations spreading over her entire body. Adrienne moaned quietly as she laid back, their discarded clothing under and all around her. Bret's mouth was warm and wet on her nipple, sucking and teasing her with his tongue, as his fingers taunted the other nipple at the same time. Adrienne ran her hands through his hair, gasping with delight. With her nipple still in his mouth, Bret looked up at her, their eyes meeting as she whispered to him, "Bite." With a half smile on his face, Bret did as she asked, gently nibbling on the stiff peak, and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure. He began a leisurely descent down her body with his tongue, pausing now and then to kiss or lick, trying to find all the sweet spots on her willing and responsive body, inhaling her subtle scent as it changed from perfume to the sweet musk of a woman. He let his hand trail down her side, feeling the gooseflesh rise as his fingers followed the path his lips had begun. Adrienne arched her back and ground her pussy into his chest – Bret could feel her heat and wetness. He reached under her ass with both hands, bringing her pussy up closer to his face, teasing the swollen lips with his mouth and flicks of his tongue. He marveled at the glistening of excitement on her pouting lips – her clit was begging for attention. As his tongue flicked at her button, he felt her fingers tighten in his hair. He ran his tongue down her slit, and then back to her clit, lapping quickly at the erect nub as he fucked her with two of his fingers. Her breath quickened, sounding almost ragged in his ears as she whispered hoarsely, "Now, baby, now." And then Adrienne was cumming, juices running from her cunt over his hand as the walls of her pussy contracted in spasms on his fingers. His tongue still worked her clit, wringing the pleasure out of her, until she clawed at his back, pulling him up to her, and wrapping her legs around him, reaching for his throbbing dick. His cock parted the lips of her swollen pussy and Bret felt her shudder as he began to enter her, very slowly at first, savoring her tight, wet heat. She arched impatiently under him, grabbing his ass, and he fucked her harder and deeper, until he was afraid he'd cum too soon. Adrienne pulled away from him, saying, "I need to taste me on you." As he rose to his knees, Adrienne took his cock in her mouth, her breath against his skin as she sucked and stroked his shaft, tasting the salty tang of him. Just as he thought he'd shoot his load, she suddenly turned around, presenting her ass to him, in a timeless pose that needed no invitation. He plunged deep inside her, fucking her hard and fast, and she met him stroke for stroke, his balls slapping her sensitive clit, and sending her over the edge. He began cumming as soon as he felt the walls of her pussy milking his cock, shooting jets of hot spunk deep in her cunt. His strokes slowed but he continued to fuck her, as the mix of their juices ran down her thighs. Adrienne and Bret They woke at almost the same time, a couple of hours later. As Adrienne sleepily snuggled closer to him, Bret kissed the top of her head. "Are you hungry? We never had that dinner I promised you." Adrienne sat up and looked around to get her bearings, then whispered in shock. "Oh shit, Bret – look, we left the curtains open all this time! We gotta close those right now." Bret's laugh was instantaneous. "Are you kidding? There's a helluva view from that window. . ."