Untitled...

I wonder if you’re watching me.

A soft crunch of leaves amidst the quiet of the brisk fall air gives way to the possibility that someone is just outside the window...the one with the curtains left open just wide enough to frame a shot of my naked body lying on the bed, softly awash in a dim, amber lamplight...the one that I left cracked so that you can hear my moans as I slowly stroke myself with my eyes closed, my right arm behind my head so I don’t obstruct your view.

That is, if you’re actually there.

I heard you step out for a smoke a while ago, but you have yet to come back inside. You probably think I’ve retired for the night after our last vodka tonic - the last drink of many that we put back while catching up. I hope you’re surprised to find otherwise.

Another crunch in the leaves...I’m pretty sure that you’ve at least peeked in by now.

I wonder if you’re watching in disgust. Are you offended by such a risky act of exhibitionism? Will you view me differently, having seen me for the first time in such an erotic state? Surely I must know that the curtains are agape, and that breakfast will be awkward in the morning, with averted eye contact and forced conversation.

I wonder if you’re turned on instead. Are you licking your lips with a heavy sex-starved gaze, one hand supporting yourself on the brick wall as the other sneaks underneath your bunched up skirt? Are you having a difficult time keeping your feet planted quietly on the ground as your wet fingers disappear in and out from between your legs? Are you finding it hard to keep your knees from buckling as you imagine wrapping those fingers around my thickness - stroking, rubbing, tickling it as I’m doing now? Is it a challenge to control your quickening breath as you envision yourself sliding down its length?

It seems so as I hear a light gasp amidst the breeze, followed by another small crunch.

I wonder how long you’ll stay outside...you must be shivering by now, legs and ass covered in goosebumps. Will you brave the crisp air, frantically rubbing yourself until I let go all over my stomach? Will you retreat to your bedroom to finish the deed in private, never saying a word about the incident, leaving both of us with a bulging, dirty secret to keep?

I wonder how you’re going to react when I suddenly direct my eyes toward the window, acknowledging your presence. Will you duck to the ground and hide, knowing that you’ll have to either wait until I’m asleep to move or walk noisily through the leaves, later pretending that you didn’t see anything? Will you run back inside the house, embarrassed and horrified at being caught in your voyeurism, nervously constructing what you will say the next time we see each other?

Will you stand bold and own the intrusion of your guest’s privacy, continuing to pleasure yourself as I tease you from the other side of the window, holding my rigid cock inches from your face?

Will I hear my door open and be accompanied for a night of noisy, sweaty, voracious fucking?

I wonder.

This is somewhat dark, and so unusual, giving a sense of plot (in all its meanings, lol), even if it all happens in the mind of the man, and the strange twist: the voyeur is actually watched.

I love the story!!

Interesting story, HJ! Great twist...what happens next?

i'll bet it has to do with sex!!...at least i hope.

quote:

Originally posted by Phoenix:
Interesting story, HJ! Great twist...what happens next?

That's entirely up to your own disturbed, perverted head.

delish...