The Watcher in the Window
- By Pride and Passion
He is the weakness in my knees, and the flutter of tiny wings in the pit of my stomach. He is the only man who has ever truly satisfied me, but he is not here. He fled one night, to risk his life on the battlefield of a hostile foreign land. As I lay on my bed, consumed by loneliness, my mind is filled with images of a passionate encounter with my absent lover.
I press my eyelids shut and imagine all of the pleasures that have escaped me since his departure. I run my tongue across my lips, recalling the sweet taste of his tender kiss. I shiver with delight as I imagine the many ways in which I long to be touched.
A faint sound in the distance pulls me from my lucid fantasy. As I gaze out of my window into the moon tinted darkness, I see the whites of two eyes staring back at me. In the darkness beyond the window of a neighbouring house, someone is watching my every move.
I reach out and grab the bedsheets, pulling them over my naked body. My unquestionably handsome neighbour is a quiet man. He lives alone, and seldom leaves his house. Although we regularly exchange smiles, we have not yet spoken, and I've often wondered what dark secrets are hidden behind his piercing eyes?
Apprehension becomes intrigue as I contemplate a moonlight tryst, with the handsome man whose name remains a mystery. Aroused by fantasies of sinful indulgence, I slowly slip my bedsheets off my body until I am completely naked once more.
I fan my legs apart, pressing the balls of my feet into the mattress and exposing my soft pink flower to his gaze. Then I place the index finger of my right hand inside my mouth, saturating it with my warm saliva, before running it down my chin and across my chest. I can feel my heart pounding as my hand caresses my breasts. I proceed to my torso, circling my belly button before finally reaching the throbbing gateway between my legs.
My whole body quivers as I rub my little button of pleasure. Ever so gently at first, and then harder and more rigorously, whimpering with delight as the pleasure flows through me like an electric current. It feels so sensitive. So deliciously wet. I've never felt so alive!
My hips come to life, rotating rhythmically as the motion of my finger intensifies. I slip my finger inside myself, whimpering as the tingling onset of a delightful orgasm builds at the base of my spine. If I'm not careful I will stroke myself to a climax too soon.
I open my eyes for a split second. I'm still being watched, and the sense of danger intensifies the thrill. I feel so naughty, so terribly wicked, but I'm too excited to stop. Am I turning him on? Is the watcher in the window touching himself at the sight of my writhing body? I shut my eyes and descent deeper into my little tunnel of pleasure, seeking out the ecstasy that I had fought so hard to supress only moments earlier.
My finger has a mind of its own. It knows exactly how to bring me to the edge and beyond. I caress my little button with the perfect amount of pressure, then I flick it ever so gently until it feels like every nerve ending is about to explode. I hear a thud in the background. A door closing. Is it him? Has he left his house in the dead of the night in search of the delights that only a wanton woman can provide?
I slide another finger inside. My jaw tightens, and my body bolts upwards, lifting my pelvis off the bed. This is it! Here it comes! The sensation reaches its apex, floating over me in hot waves as my fingers work me into a frenzy. I grip the sheets with my left hand, and throw my head back, letting out a deep wail of satisfaction. Finally, the feeling takes control of me as I ascend into a powerful orgasm.
I fall back onto the bed, panting heavily and feeling dizzy from my overdose of pleasure. The room is deathly silent, and as I open my eyes and stare out of my window, the eyes that were watching me have vanished.
I reach down and pull the sheets over my body, and as I drift peacefully into a dream state, the image of my lover is replaced by a new face. Now it is my enigmatic neighbour whose company I crave.
The man in the window. My midnight voyeur. Suddenly, a familiar sound yanks me out of my slumber. The unmistakable sound of knuckles on hard wood. I sit upright in bed, smiling nervously, yet strangely excited at the prospect of an unexpected late night visitor. To be continued...
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