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Voyeur Neighbor [MF,exh,voy,mast…] (x-post from /r/LetsWriteADirtyStory)

We opened a new subreddit for interactive erotic stories /r/LetsWriteADirtyStory .
I would like to post one of the more complete shorts. We would love to have more participation as there are some fantasies still waiting to be continued like this one:

Voyeur neighbor (mf,voy,exh,mast ) so far

I was just about to undress when I caught my neighbor undressing in the window, slowly taking off his shirt and pant. Admiring himself in the mirror. His muscular physique bulging in his underpants…..

He is looking at something on his tablet. Then he proceeds to stuff his hand down his boxers slowly rubbing his member. After a few minutes, He then proceeds to take of his boxers. His dick semi hard as he begins to stroke it. I can see him taking long deliberate strokes. I feel my juices beginning to flow as he picks up the pace. Read more »

The First Year: Ch. 1

First chapter is to kind of establish a few characters. There won't be much erotic behavior at first. I'll try to keep it short and sweet! :)

We'd spent all of Adam's day off getting our furniture and boxes moved into the new apartment. His family and a couple of friends had helped us out and the whole day had been a lot of fun. We all ate shitty sandwiches in the middle of our empty living room; I spent a good amount of time with his sisters visualizing the layout; and after his family had made the hour-long drive back to their home a few of Adam's co-workers took us out for drinks.

Everything about this life is new for me. Adam and I met in college just three semesters ago while I'd been living in one of the dorms. My family and hometown is states away from here, but Adam and I fell completely head over heels with each other. Fast-forward, the two of us ended up getting married. It was a small ceremony with just our very small immediate families, and now that Adam's finished with school we've decided to move into a nicer apartment. I'll continue going to school while he works. Read more »

The Passing Storm

The weather had gone from maddeningly hot to severe storms in less than an hour.

It was no doubt summer now, Alice thought as she poured her third glass of Merlot. The electricity had gone out just moments before, but Cliff had been well-prepared with candles and flashlights. He was actually from the south, he knew the seasons whereas Alice, being from Northern California, knew rain, and then drizzling. Thunder was completely foreign to her, and lightning was rare up there.

"Feeling cozy yet?" Cliff asked dryly, crossing the living room to close the blinds of their sliding doors.

"Don't shut them. I like to watch." She took a deep swallow of the warm, bitter wine. Her blood felt warmed and her mind swam comfortably. It was custom for Alice to start drinking after one of their arguments.

Cliff left the blinds open, returning to the kitchen to light more candles stoically. Alice wasn't used to a man like this; Cliff was a very hardened man emotionally, but passionate. All her life Alice had been handed everything by every man. She was unquestionably a lovely creature: honeyed hair, evergreen eyes, and she was young. Only twenty years, while most of the men that preferred her were in their thirties, even late thirties. Cliff was only twenty-nine, maybe the youngest she'd been with since she was seventeen, and he'd been a challenge. Read more »

Beyond the Garden

Every Monday and Thursday I drive an hour from my home to work in the garden of my wealthy employer, a handsome adman in his early thirties. For business-purposes I'll just call him Addison. Addison employed me sometime last spring when we met through a professor of one of my classes. I'm 21 and still in school and have a pretty tight schedule, which Addison offered to work around, while promising a pretty penny for my gardening skills.

Since then I've developed somewhat of an infatuation for Addison. Late at night when I'm showering for bed, or lying on the couch downing a glass of cheap red wine, my thoughts often drift to unrealistic fantasies of him having his way with me, hidden in his hydrangeas. My dreams, I know, will never be anything more than dreams, and not just because Addison is happily married. Still, I can't help blushing when I'm pruning his rose bushes and he walks past me, lightly touching my shoulder and thanking me for my "talents" with his garden. He's a very kind man, and very business. Addison rarely wears anything but crisp suits and never has more than a 5 o'clock shadow grazing his firm jaw, though always with a cigarette or, in the evenings, a cigar. Read more »