Nathan
I SIT BACK IN THE KITCHEN CHAIR I have parked in front of my window. Picking up the binoculars in my lap, I bring them to my eyes. The focus is off, so I twist the dial until it’s clear, then zoom in on the person I’m watching in the apartment across from mine. She’s entering the mouth of the hallway that leads to her bedroom.
I take my eyes from her just long enough to look at the clock on the stove. Right on time. Just like every Tuesday night.
My body tightens in anticipation.
Once she enters her room, her hands move to her hair and she releases the long blonde strands from her ponytail. She grabs the mass of curls and brings it over her shoulder before she runs her fingers through it.
My hands tighten on the binoculars with the need to have my own fingers in her hair, gripping it as I guide her head where I want her.
She stops in front of her dresser, her hands moving to the buttons on her bright red shirt, and she slowly starts releasing them. A black bra comes into view and my dick hardens beneath the zipper. The material slowly slides down her arms until it lands on the floor. Smooth tanned skin tempts me.
The open black curtains flutter as she passes by them. She disappears for a moment before her form comes back into view. Her hands move to the button and zipper on her skinny jeans. When she shakes her ass to get the tight material over her hips, I swear she’s putting on a show just for me. My balls draw up, and I’m forced to release the button and zipper on my own jeans. It never takes much for this woman to put me on the edge.
The first time I saw her was two years and two months ago, and it’s a day I’ll never fucking forget for as long as I live. I had been standing in front of the window, drinking a beer and randomly looking out across the way when something caught my eye. A woman, with her back facing the window, her wild blonde hair cascading down her back. She was on her knees in front of a man. His head was tilted back, one hand on the window behind her, the other fisting a chunk of her hair. Although he was helping guide her, the woman knew exactly what she was doing. I couldn’t see her face, but I desperately wanted to. I’ve always enjoyed watching people have sex, watching people period, but there was something about watching the woman’s blonde head bob back and forth as she took the guy in her mouth. To this day, I still don’t know what it is.
I took out my phone, pulled up the camera feature and zoomed in as far as I could. I still couldn’t see her face, but fuck if the view didn’t get better anyway. After several more minutes of her blowing him, he yanked her away. She stood, and without prompt, turned around and flattened her hands against the glass, presenting her ass to him. My first look at her face wasn’t that great through my camera, but it was enough to send the last of the blood in my body straight to my dick. I blew my load all over the window as I watched the guy fuck her.
I was at the window every day for nine days after that before I saw her again, and each of those days that she didn’t appear drove me insane. The day she did show, she was alone, and all she did was eat a meal she warmed in the microwave, watch the television for an hour, then go to bed. I soaked up every second of seeing her again.
I don’t know where she goes, but she’s rarely home. However, for the past year and a half, every Tuesday night, like clockwork, my ass sits in this chair, and I watch her. Every week the same thing happens. Except for that first time, she’s never brought a man home. Her curtains are always open, except one day a week. Thursday. Every once in a while, I’ll see her walking through her apartment, but most of the time she’s not there.
I don’t know her name, what she does for a living, if she has a family, or even the color of her eyes, but Tuesday is my favorite day of the week, because that’s when she puts on a show for me. This girl is mine, even if only in my head.
I feel a drop of precum bead at the tip of my cock as she slips the thin straps of her thong over the curve of her hips. When she bends to take it off, exposing the glistening folds of her pussy, I reach down and palm my hardness.
I hear a knock behind me, but I ignore it, my attention solely on the show going on before me.
When the woman stands again, she moves to the bed, gingerly taking a seat. She scoots back against the pillows, and my blood pressure rises in anticipation of what I know is coming next.
My fingers tighten around the binoculars as she settles back and lets her legs fall open. A groan slips past my lips, and I squeeze my cock harder. One hand moves to her tit and she pinches her nipple, while the other heads south. She doesn’t touch her pussy immediately. At first, she skims hers fingers over the inside of her thighs, getting close to her center, then veering away from it.
She likes to tease herself. She likes to tease me. Even if she doesn’t know it.
The air changes in the room, and I know someone just walked into my apartment. My eyes don’t leave the woman and my hand slowly continues its strokes as I feel someone walk up beside me.
“Hey, man, why didn’t….” The voice trails off, before there’s a muttered curse. “Fuck.”
I don’t say anything, but out the corner of my eye, I see Tegan look toward the window. A small part of me, a foreign part that I’ve never experienced before, wants to yank his gaze away from the window and gouge out his eyes so he can’t look anymore. I’ve never before in my life felt possessive over a woman. I want to see women with other men. I get off on it. It turns my dick to fucking granite to see a man fucking a woman or a woman getting herself off. Hell, even two men fucking makes me hot as hell. It doesn’t matter. As long as someone is getting off, then so am I. I’ve been this way since I was a teenager.
But the thought of Tegan watching the woman in the apartment across the street has anger hitting my gut like a ton of bricks. I grit my teeth and force the feeling away.
“It’s Tuesday,” he grunts beside me. “I should have known you’d be getting your rocks off with 9B.”
I continue to ignore him and keep the binoculars at my eyes. Tegan knows he won’t get much of a response out of me. Not when she’s home, not on Tuesday. He doesn’t ask why I’m sitting in the dark either. I’m not going to blatantly advertise my Tuesday night masturbation session to the woman by having my lights on to illuminate me. That would be fucking stupid on my part.
“Are you coming tomorrow night?” he asks, walking away and leaning against the island with his arms over his chest.
“Yes,” I answer tersely, ready for him to be gone.
“What time you planning to be there?”
I grind my molars together. “Whenever I get there.”
“Good, because Abby wants everyone to come.”
I stay silent and watch the woman strum her clit with her finger. Her back arches and her mouth falls open. I can’t hear her, of course, but I know she just let out a low moan. She bites her bottom lip, then licks the plump flesh, and I wonder what she tastes like.
I pull harder on my cock and let out my own deep groan. Tegan, still standing off to the side, either doesn’t hear or ignores it. I’m sure it’s the latter. My friends and I aren’t shy. We’ve all had some type of sexual contact with the others. Not because we’re into each other, but because we use each other to fill sexual voids when we need them. We all have sexual addictions or perversions, things most people look at with disgust.
I like to watch, Tegan likes to be watched, Abby is a bona fide sex addict, and Ava only has role play sex. Abby, Tegan, and I met during sexual therapy sessions. Ava came along later when Abby met her in a bar. We all left the sessions at the same time when we realized they were a waste. Who are the doctors to say our perversions should be “cured”?
Fucking nobody.
I hear my fridge close and the cap off a beer bottle hit my counter. The woman in the apartment releases her nipple and grabs the headboard, her fingers gripping one of the rails. Her back arches even more and it thrusts her tits out. My mouth waters with the need to clamp my teeth around those pointed tips.
“Leave,” I growl to Tegan without taking my eyes off the woman.
A bottle clunks on the counter, feet move across the floor, there’s the snick of my door opening, then, “have fun” before the door closes.
The view in the apartment across from mine damn near has me erupting. She’s got two fingers stuffed in her pussy, her thumb wildly rubbing her clit. Her back is still bowed back, her legs wide, her mouth open into a shout, and her chest heaves up and down.
My stomach muscles tighten and the hand holding the binoculars starts to shake. My release is going to be explosive. It always is when I come watching her.
Seconds later, just as her body stiffens from her orgasm, intense pleasure shoots up my cock and spurts out the tip. A grunt leaves the back of my throat as ropes of cum land on my belly and chest.
Fuck, that was good.
The woman’s body relaxes against the pillow, her breathing matching my shallow pants as we both recover together. I may be fucked in the head, but the thought of her and me coming together, like we’re actually in the same room, keeps me just as hard as I was before.
After several moments, she gets up from the bed, grabs the robe at the end, slips it on, and walks into the bathroom, where I know she’s going to take a shower. I get up from my chair and walk into my own bathroom. Letting my jeans drop to the floor, I step under the spray to clean the cum from my chest and stomach.
I walk out of my room, grab a beer from the fridge, and chug half of it down before taking it to the bar with me. I glance over to the window and see her bedroom lights are off. This is typical. On Tuesday nights, she comes home, undresses, gets herself off, showers, then goes straight to bed. Most of the rest of the week, she’s gone
It wouldn’t take much for me to find out her name and where she goes when she isn’t home, but I don’t want to know. I’m not sure if I’ll ever really meet her, but until I do, I want to keep part of her a mystery.