He was standing in front of the window again in his boxer briefs, same as every evening, a glass of amber colored liquid in hand. Was it whiskey? Rum? Scotch? Bourbon? Maybe Cognac? He looked like a Cognac man, she decided. She was unaware of when this ‘standing in the window in his boxer shorts’ had become a thing. Or, more accurately, she could not remember the exact timing, she had merely looked out the window one night and saw him there, in all his half-naked glory. He was an Adonis. He was every adjective to describe male sexuality, ever. She found him hot. He made her *feel* hot.
From across her way she studied his form. The toned thighs and legs, the shadows of dark hair all over the parts of his body she could see. How the dark hairs clouded over and became thicker from underneath his belly button, a delicious trail to where the fun began below the waistband of his boxer briefs.
He was watching her too, she could tell that much. He watched her every night, just as she watched him. At first, she had tried to distract herself when she noticed this behavior in him, had tried to put him off by ignoring him, in the hopes he would become bored. She was glad it had not worked. She was glad he had persevered in his game of looking into her apartment and watching her.
Now they were watching each other, observing through the large plate glass windows of their apartments. He took a sip of his drink and then put it down, his hand moving somewhere she could not see, the glass out of her field of view. When he moved his hand back, he placed it over his crotch. He kept it still, and then he waited.
What was he waiting for? Was he waiting for her to do the same? She mimicked his actions and placed a hand over the crotch of her yoga pants. Now it was her turn to wait for his next move. For his turn, he squeezed his cock through his boxer briefs and moved his hand up and down the growing form of his erection. From her window, she could see the way his briefs distorted and started to tent with his growing penis. *Thank goodness for the two buildings being so close together,* she suddenly thought.
She smiled and decided to one-up him this time, her hand traveling into her gym clothes, and pulling the waistband of her panties aside. She was becoming aroused and starting to grow wet. She waited in delicious anticipation to see what he would do.
He removed his bottoms altogether, and she caught sight of his glorious prick. From where she was, she could see its length and girth. By no means was it porn star big, but that wasn’t what mattered, because what he lacked in length he more than made up for in thickness. *He’s thicc*, she thought. She giggled at her own use of that word, all the while, looking him up and down. He was better than any fantasy she had ever had of him and his fully nude body. He measured up well in reality to the daydream version that she had of him.
He stood there and waited, hands folded at the wrists behind his back, the sort of posture one takes on a leisurely Sunday stroll through the park. It was rather an absurd pose for the young hunk to take while he was stark naked in front of the window, but his waiting stance was rewarded when she slipped her yoga pants down her own toned legs and kicked them out of the way. Her panties soon joined that pile and now she too was bottomless.
He smiled and moved his hands in an upward motion in front of his chest, as if to say ‘c’mon, top off, tits out.’ She was more nervous about taking her top off than she had been about her pants. At that moment it struck her that she was perhaps old enough to be his mother, providing she’d had him as a teenager. Her tits certainly were not what they used to be, but they had stood the test of time well, she thought. Off came the tank top, and then the blue sports bra. Both joined the rest of the clothes on the floor in a little pile.
He started stroking his cock then, to her nudity. She was relieved to think that her tits had passed his examination, although, if he’d come this far, why stop when the bra came off? The sight of him fully and unashamedly touching himself, turned her on beyond belief. Daringly she slipped a finger inside her sex. She was soaking. He stroked faster when he saw her start to finger herself.
This was the wildest thing she’d done since College. God, what a time that had been. All those sexcapades somehow did not come even close to what was happening now. This seemed more dangerous and daring, more taboo. What if other people from the opposite building happened to look out their windows and see her? That would certainly not be a good look. In fact, it could even look rather incriminating somehow, but she continued. It turned her on more to know that other people could be looking.
He stood closer to the window. She pulled two sodden fingers out of her pussy and did the same. *Huh*, she thought, *his cock is at the perfect angle, that if I get down on my knees, it could be like giving him a blowjob*. She bit her bottom lip. He masturbated faster. She stared straight at him and sank to her knees right in front of the large window.
He seemed to understand what she meant, somehow knew what she was trying to do. He moved in closer again, his fist hitting the glass. Thump, thump, thump, it was rhythmic. Shoving two fingers back inside herself, she licked the glass, pretending to lick his cock. Squelch, squelch, squelch, the sound of her wet pussy and saturated fingers reverberated around her.
Thump, thump, thump, squelch, squelch, squelch. They both continued. Thump, squelch, thump, squelch. She saw he was red in the face, he saw she was red. Two hard nipples momentarily pressed against the glass. They both groaned. Thump, thump, squelch, squelch, thump, thump, squelch, squelch. She was lubricating furiously now, her left hand was almost as wet as the fingers inside her. Fingertips strummed her g-spot and she convulsed, placing her other hand against the glass to steady herself so she didn’t collapse and fall out of his sight.
On his side of the window, he was rock hard and ready to cum, one side of his fist starting to get sore from the repeated hits against the glass. *Let it bruise*, he thought, *it can be a reminder of this very moment*. He was surprised the glass hadn’t smashed or shattered altogether, he was masturbating with such ferocity. Thump, thump, thump.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, she was soaking wet and ready to cum. She forced her tongue against the cool, smooth glass once more and licked wild patterns and trails, her saliva all over the window, her pussy juice all over her hand and down her thighs and legs. Perhaps if she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could be licking his cock. That thought was what sent her into overdrive. Her pussy gushed, her moans grew louder, her tongue stopped it’s drawings on the glass window while she came, with such intensity from her position on the ground that she wondered if she’d pull a leg muscle, she felt her calf go tight and tense from kneeling.
When the aftershocks started to subside, she rolled her shoulders back, feeling a dull ache in her tailbone from kneeling on the hardwood. She opened her eyes and saw a large arc of pearly white cum on the plate glass window across the way from her. The Adonis had put his boxer briefs back on and was watching her through the window, a glass of amber colored liquid in hand, same as every evening.
(This was first published by me to Lushstories.com)
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ggz36j/windows_exhibitionist_masturbation_older_woman