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Peeping Tom's Anecdote - Part 2

Short story By: M A Nogard

Part Two of Three - As she is spied on by the mysterious peeping tom, a young woman uses it to her advantage.

Submitted:Sep 17, 2012    Reads: 2,330    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

Restless in my sleep I toss and turn, I can feel your eyes upon my sleeping body, entwined in the drape of the silk sheets. My eyes open as if you have flicked a switched, and I know what I have to do to get some rest. The only thing that will help me to get a good nights sleep.
I slip out from under the covers, and pad across the carpet to the bedroom door. My crumpled nightie falls, flowing gently around my thighs, the carpet spills between my toes. It's a cool night, but I refrain from slipping on my robe. I have a slight goose flesh from the chill, my nipples are constricted and erect, grazing the smooth material of my night dress as I move.
I enter my modest study, feeling your watchful eyes follow me, locked on to me like a sniper waiting for the order to strike. I know that you wont though, there is no satisfaction in it. I am grateful for that, it's been a lonely month, and the attention you give me is somewhat comforting. Usually I am not one to crave attention, but sometimes you just have to know that someone cares. And you care don't you? You care enough to stay up every night and watch over me. For me it's for comfort, for you I know it is for sexual fulfillment.
As I lower myself in to my chair, sleep in my eyes I flick on the computer. I don't switch on the light, but let the screen cast it's glow upon me. I have often wondered if you reflect on your observations. Do you watch merely to catch a glimpse of my naked form? Am I the object of your obsession because I am the only one in your line of sight that doesn't have her curtains drawn? Or is there something deeper? Something that helps to calm your heart as well as your manly frustrations?
I doubt you can see my screen. I doubt you even take your eyes off of me to try and identify the web page I have loaded. If you did you would discover the truth. You would find that you and I are not that dissimilar. You would discover my secret. My best kept secret... That I am a Peeping Tom too.
Yes, I too enjoy observing another. Only I prefer to do it from the safety of my computer, rather than a telescope at my window, my subjects are those that place their assets on display for all to see. Men as lonely as my womanly self hoping to feel something more than just the hand that envelops their manhood. Men bored with their wives that want to be seen by more than just one woman. Women that love to feel the thrill of having a thousand or so lust over them as they place forward their most intimate treasures for the world to see.
I find a well endowed man in his early twenties. I am in the mood for men tonight, you have had that effect on me. I am a regular on this site, and although I never broadcast I am well known. I have watched this man before, his chest heaving above his washboard stomach as he strokes the seemingly never ending length of his erection.
I type a few words of encouragement as I think of you somewhere in that apartment building opposite, your stare never faltering as you wait to see what I will do next. Are you doing that same act as the hunk on my screen? Are you even turned on? Maybe this is mere foreplay as you await the main event.
I have always been a visual person and the sight of the man rubbing lube into the shaft of his smooth cock and balls is enough to make me tingle. I haven't been with a man or a woman in over three months, and I haven't touched myself in weeks. This is due mainly to you. Ever since I discovered the twinkling of your telescope and the dark shadow crouched over it, I have been a little too self-conscious, shy even. It has been enough to know you have examined my naked curves in intimate detail, and I found it difficult to find the courage to go further.
But tonight... Tonight I am ready, I felt it before bed. That need for physical contact, that need for release, and the action on the screen before me only strives to turn me on, and provide me with the stimulus required for such an act.
I feel natural at the first touch. It's like old times as my fingertips trace the bronzed skin of my legs, freshly waxed and feeling fabulous in the dark. I stretch them out, raising one to the desk and gripping the hard corner with my toes. The hem of my night dress, silky and light rides up to my hip.
Are you watching? Yes, I am sure you are. Never turning away for second, letting nothing distract you as I raise my other leg. Can you see my undies? You should know which ones they are, after all you watched me put them on after I had showered before bed. The small, tight, black ones that I love to wear when I am aroused. The grip of the seat and crotch put a squeeze on my opening and the swollen nub above, just enough to help, just as the man's rigorous movements on the screen in front of me have helped as well.
He's really going at it now, inspired I hope my by words of encouragement. I am fixated on the crease and stretch of the sheath of skin that envelopes the reddened shaft every time his fist slides up and down in a ferocious grip. Have you got a grip too? Are you punishing your self in repent for your sins? Are your balls as smooth as his? Are they dancing a free tango as you torture their companion? I hope so.
My panties are not the only thing squeezing my erogenous zone beneath. I have my hand cupping myself as I slide my palm over the dampening material. My fingertips stray under the elastic that surrounds the tops of my thighs, I can feel the soft fuzz of my neatly trimmed pubic hair as I let my fingers bury in it. And they are there, sliding down the warm slit and working my natural lube into the lips as pre cum runs down the shaft of my man on the screen, dripping on to the clasped fingers. They are almost white from the pressure of his grip, and I can only imagine the feeling of his pulsing cock in my hand.
He's getting close, I can tell by the increased urgency of his thrusts. Are you? I hope not. It won't take me long, but I want you to see it all with that lust you are feeling right now. He's going to finish very soon, but that's OK, he's not the one watching me.
My fingers tips enter me, I don't go for theatrics. I know what I like and I know what gets me off. It's simple, but effective. A small push and two sink in and are hooked around into the soft warmth of my pussy. The lips closing around them, absorbing them, drawing them in as I tense my muscles.
I press in and out, occasionally deepening to the next knuckle as my thumb presses over my clit in slow, circular movements. My other hand is busy too, grasping at the mounds of my breasts through my nightie. My nipples, erect when I first awoke, protrude dominantly through the night gown and I tease each in turn with a pinch of silk. I love to feel a grip, cupping my breasts, just as I enjoy rough hands on my body as I make love. There is something very intimate, primal and close about stray hands that can get me very worked up.
The man on the screen throws his head back, his hips convulsing as his hand stops dead, visibly squeezing as hard as he can. I feel elation as a white jet fires into the air. It's long and thin and splatters the man's six pack and chest as a second stream lurches out, higher this time, before the first has landed, I watch as this lands on his neck in soft pools. He grimaces in pleasure as a third is released, not so high or as energetic as before. Then the remnants follows, flowing out in a thick, white, pearly stream, drizzling out of the slit in the pink mushroom. I runs down the head, flooding over the fingers that are still tightly wrapped around the shaft.
The man has collapsed backwards, laying down and panting, and a final dribble oozes out of the end of his cock. I realise I am salivating, transfixed by the magnificence of his ejaculation. My fingers are buried deep within me, working faster, harder. My hand is holding my breast so hard that my hand shakes, I have to relax. It's then it that it takes hold.
It's sudden. Unusual for me as I usually like to keep building it up and negotiate when I cum. I don't get that choice as my thumb was pressed harder than I realised. My womanhood catches fire, my body convulses like my man on the screen and my hand locks to my pussy, fingers still inside. My muscles contract around them without choice and my clitoris pulses as if struck by electricity.
I moan, loudly. Did you hear me? I gasp for breath, my chair is in danger of rolling away I have to grip the corner of the desk with my toes to stop it as my legs spasm weakly. My hips are raised and a warm slick runs over my hand and down to my wrist, sweat covers my face and cleavage. I am lost to my orgasm as my eyes close, stars dancing beneath my lids.
As my pleasure subsides, my hands idly slip into the neck of my nightie. Absent-mindedly fondling my breasts and teasing around my areolas. I take a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh of complete ecstasy. As my palm continues to massage my pussy I smile a satisfied smile to myself. For the first time in over a month I feel at peace. You finish too? Did you erupt like that man on my computer? I can only hope your climax was as intense as his, it makes me warm inside to know that it was caused by me.
Something's wrong, lights flash outside as my haze of sexual lethargy falls. I am out of my chair in an instant as a loud bang rocks the street. I am aware of my sopping panties clinging to my flesh, as I reach the window in time to see two burly policemen drag a half dressed, disheveled form from the entrance to your building. It's you, I know it's you even though we have never met. You have had your eyes on me in my most private moments, but this is the first time I have seen you. You look up and I smile again, trying to catch your eye, trying to comfort, still trying to workout the chain of events. My fingertips brush my lips as I watch you packed into the back of a police car, I can still smell the remnants of my orgasm.
As the car drives away I make my way back to bed. Yet somehow even after such an eventful night, sleep continues to elude me.


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