I watch. It’s what I do. But never like this.
I’ve watched you leaving the building across the street from my own, sometimes with him, sometimes alone. You caught my eye, yes, but not my imagination. Not then.
But later – some weeks, maybe a month later – early one evening, as I stood at my window watching the light change as the workers scurried home, just a glimpse of something. So brief that I thought perhaps it was my imagination. Had you really left your blinds open as you dressed? It was so fleeting I couldn’t be sure. But in my mind there was skin, shape, suggestion. I was still standing there, intrigued, when the front door of your building opened and out you stepped, on his arm, the two of you chattering and laughing.
And that became my place. To watch for you. You became my fantasy, my muse, my obsession even. Rewards were few, but every now and then my patience earned me what I yearned for. I have seen you in every state of undress. I have seen you take him in your mouth. I have seen him choke you, spank you, even hit you. I have seen you masturbate; sometimes with toys – a glass dildo seems to pleasure you most – sometimes with your fingers.
But not like this.
It has taken months and money to plan. Do you know your janitor is an old wino? Have you seen the collection of bottles in his stinky little room? A collection I have added to…he was easily befriended, easily hoodwinked. It just took patience and generosity. No one else spoke to him, even gave him the time of day, you see.
And when you left this morning, me watching from my usual spot, idly fingering the newly cut keys in my pocket, my body tingled with excitement. I waited until you were safely in the hailed cab, then closed up my apartment and crossed the street. I will be patient for your return, use the time to learn you. Explore you.
And now I’m here, sitting in an armchair pushed back into the darkest corner of your bedroom, my clothes folded neatly on the floor beside it, strangely calm even as I hear your key in your lock, hear the door open, the bag fall to the floor, the sigh as the shoes are kicked off.
You seem rushed as you enter the bedroom. There is an urgency to the way you shed your clothes and fall onto the bed. To be so close to you, for us both to be naked, is thrilling. If only you knew…
Unexpectedly, I find my hands mirroring the actions of yours; with the tips of fingers, I caress my belly, my thighs, run them through the light hair of my own mound and up, to circle my nipples. I am well versed in finding my own pleasure but I had never before found teasing my nipples sensual. But now, as I watch yours stiffen to your attentions, it is like a charge runs directly from my breast to my groin. And my cock begins to awaken.
I watch every graceful movement of your hands; watch your finger extend to dip inside you, and I am suddenly envious of your dampness, wishing I had the same to slather the skin of my stirring penis. I slide my fingers beneath the shaft and let it rest across my palm, feeling its weight and heat on my skin. When you bring your glistening finger to your lips my shaft flinches with the thrill, lifting from my palm, and not returning. It is thicker now. Harder.
Like you, one hand ministers to my breasts, my nipples; the other, like you, stays between my legs. Exploring. I stroke the shape of my testicles, the lines of flesh where thigh becomes groin. The skin of my cock stretches, strains. The head is filled, and as I softly caress its length I can feel the pulse in its veins. My fingers roam, drawing its outline, savouring its contours.
There is noise. Soft moans growing louder as your fingers do their work; the sound of your wet cunt flesh as you probe. My fingers encircle my shaft, draw it away from belly, tighten. I find myself matching your rhythm, but deliberately not your ferocity. I do not want to miss a thing. I have waited so long for this. I can wait more.
Your palm covers your mound, fingers deep inside you as I dare to start moving my hand, squeezing the shaft as I pull, softening the grip as I release, my vision almost swimming with you and your delight. It is intense, visceral, animal, and I feel it consuming me. And I see the waves building in you, and I feel my muscles clenching, my body coiling, preparing.
There is heat in me, fire. I am sweating. I don’t know if I can stay quiet. My hand involuntarily quickens and I have to slow it. My cock throbs in my grasp, desperate, fierce, demanding. And then your body lifts and there is the most delicious moan and then twitches and gripping and breath.
And I stand. And I walk over to the bed. And I am so full of gratitude as my hand becomes a blur and now I am moaning and emptying myself onto your softening body, and feeling my knees weaken and my senses scramble.
Until you open your eyes. And suddenly those senses are sharp once more. And my hand muffles your scream, just in time…