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Peeping Tom's Anecdote - Part 3

Short story By: M A Nogard

Part Three of Three - As the trilogy concludes, the Peeping Tom meets his match as the mysterious Police caller is revealed, amid a hot and steamy tale of its own.

Submitted:Nov 3, 2012    Reads: 1,381    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

Who are they? The one who now captivates you so? The one that steals your eyes from me; the object of your desire for so many a night.

Is it some harlot, with ungainly large breasts that captures your never-ending gaze? Or maybe it is a well hung gigolo with a perfect form of a body, chiselled from stone that has stolen your attention from me.

Whoever they are, they have had the same effect on you that I had when you first turned your telescope towards my window. I remember that night in full: The light patter of summer rain on the window, the tingling sensation of being spied on, the excitement of being watched, and the pleasure I gave myself for your benefit. Or was it for mine?

Yes, that's why I allowed you to fixate on me, rather than drawing my curtains to block out your titillating view. Because I enjoyed watching you too, but more than that, I enjoyed the attention you gave me.

I remember the expression on your face when you realised you were caught. It was a flash of fear and panic that quickly turned to embarrassment that reddened your smooth cheeks and your exposed penis already semi-erect was filled with a rush of blood. Being discovered had an amazing effect on you. An effect that changed your expression from fear to lust as I dropped the damp towel my body was wrapped in to the carpet, and took hold my binoculars: My hand shaking slightly with anticipation as I strove to scan for the perpetrator.

It has been a while since one looked upon me with such endearment: For someone to want to explore my body in such minute detail. So who is this mysterious stranger who interrupts my less lonely evenings?

I noticed your telescope had moved position from where it was once locked upon my illuminated window. That was several nights ago, and your eyes have ceased their scrutiny of my waiting anatomy, ceased to make me feel the way you do: Wanted.

Instead of pointing to the right of your building at an awkward angle from your own window, it now points diagonally down and across the street. You keep your own lights off, but the moon has been bright and your indiscretion has been noted. You are caught. You are cheating on me. But with whom?

You are on the fourth floor of your building, and the lighted windows are sparse. Across from you the smaller building is a wall of light, but in the very centre is a pane of uncovered glass that flickers with a faint white hue that projects with unforgiving abundance. Could this be the one who has captivated you, and is now the object of your perverted lust.

I know that window; it belongs to that young girl who works at the housing shelter. The one who is always handing out those leaflets with a kind smile on her pretty face. I scowl as I recall her to memory, I have seen her many times leaving that building. Could it be her?

After all she is tall and buxom. With her curves I am sure she could bewitch any man. But would she put them on display for all to see? She has always dressed modestly from what I have seen. I doubt she even knows you're watching, and would react rashly if she did. I try to imagine what you have seen through her window. Her most intimate moments I am sure. Her de-clothing, showering, bathing even. Maybe you have watched as she has become entwined with a lover. I am sure I will never know what you have seen of her, or why you would rather watch one who is unaware of you, rather than a raw, perfect example of a woman, such as myself. Hence, she will never know or understand the connection between us. She will never understand what we have shared during the nights passed, when she had been sleeping, and you had been star gazing into my bedroom.

That first night was truly magical; I felt your stare from the moment my dress slipped from my shoulders, down my slender back to the floor. As I stepped out of it, my bare toes grasping at my high-piled carpet, naked but for my matching lace red bra and knickers. I may have not have had a man, or a woman for that matter in a long while. But it always makes me feel good to dress sexy. I can imagine your gasp as you see me encased in the snug, frilly material.

Still not knowing who my admirer is I decide to play along, bending down to my toes as I tug the waistband down my thighs, backside in the air, my womanhood hidden between them. I kick them away and they land on my crumpled dress. My back to the window, (I don't want to give you too much at once) I stand with my legs apart and reach slowly up behind me for the clasp of my bra.

I have a modest 32C cup, of which I have always been proud. Men have always lusted over my cleavage, and there is nothing more satisfying sometimes than lustful attention. The bra straps fall from my shoulders and I pull the garment from me, holding it out to the side with a straight arm in a manner than tells you that I know you are there, I know you are watching, but you will only see what I wish you to see. I sense your disappointment as you watch my bare rear end move further away and disappear into my bathroom.

The one advantage of viewing your new conquest is that you can no doubt make out the shiloette at her bathroom window. My own has no windows so you have to wait until my bathing is done. I take my time for you. Grooming myself to perfection. Shaving the few stray hairs from my legs, and then removing all of the downy bush from between them that has formed during my time of celibacy. I pluck my eyelashes, douse a light shade of lipstick, and darken my eyes as I let my thin, blond hair rain down my back in long, wet ropes. Finally I wipe of the excess water, leaving enough to make my skin shine, and wrap the towel around my breasts to hide my modesty.

Back in my bedroom, your gaze hits me again like a spotlight. I give you a another glimpse of my buttocks, below my towel as I reach down in a draw for my binoculars.

It's then that the expression of fright consumes your face, as I catch you like a child with his hand in a sweet-jar. It didn't take me long to scan the windows and find the culprit. Yours is the only one uncovered, and your long instrument reflects the moonlight from its chrome casing. I find you just in time to see that look, and watch as you duck behind a curtain, your telescope swinging idly.

You are wearing nothing but a t shirt. Grey with a black eagle design on the front. It is just long enough to reach past your abdomen and hovers over the thick hair, just above your limp swaying, manhood.

The view is not unpleasant. You are a man that keeps himself in shape, I can tell that you have toned chest and biceps, and your flaccid penis is a sight in itself to behold.

I haven't seen one like that before. And I am not ashamed to admit I have seen a fair few. It is by no means the largest I have seen, but the girth would no doubt make up for that. It's clear you have never shaved down there, but that only makes it appear more manly, and makes me yearn for what it is capable of. I cannot quite make out if you are cut, but the curve to the left is endearing. I want a closer look. There is only one thing for it.

You're peeking out from behind your curtain, reaching for your telescope. I want to see more than just your nose and hand. I lower my binoculars and thrown them on the bed behind me. With meaningful abandon I march to the windows, my body almost touching the glass. My breath leaves a mist as I wrench the towel apart. Do I have your attention now? Are you sneaking out from behind your place of hiding now that you know I am in the game and wanting to play?

Yes! Yes, I see you from down the street, stepping out nervously as your face locks to the eyepiece. I let my hand caress my skin, sliding up my thighs to my tummy and then up to cup under my breasts. I fondle them for a few second, priming my nipples with my fingertips as I stroked my mounds out towards you. Pushing them together as I bite on my lower lip.

Then I turn and march back to the bed to take up my own viewing instrument, and there it is in all its glory. Not quite what I was I was hoping for... yet. But the rounded end has lifted from your scrotum and is now protruding out in front of you.

You need something more. I sit down slowly on the end of the bed, the binoculars glued to my eyes. My legs part, not too wide, just enough to show the treat between. Freshly smooth, unmarked by tan lines and still not dry from my bath. A water droplet is settled just between the folds and I can only hope can see it glistening in the light from my ceiling.

My move has had the desired effect. Now your manhood raises its head and stands to do its duty. You are uncut and longer than I thought, but it's that curve that entices me. I imagine what it would be like to have you here with me. To have that inside me, grinding against my inner walls as I claw at your body. I wonder, is your chest as hairy as your cock?

Your hand is already at work. I am a not surprised. You are not the first man to abuse themselves at my expense. Although never from this distance. You are grabbing at your balls, squeezing them tightly in your fist as you pull them down. As you come up, your thumbs rubs the underside of your engorged penis, pushing it back against you. I see your eye is still on the scope, but I can just make out a grimace on your handsome, rugged face.

I smile a wicked smile, showing you the enjoyment you are giving me. It's not the act that I am enjoying, but the intent that it is for me, and because of me.

I have not been aware until now that the bead of water has gone, replaced by a slicker substance that lubricates the slit between my legs. My pussy is burning with a desire as your fingers wrap tightly around your shaft, your fist beginning to pump in that up and down motion that will finally end this affair for tonight.

I move quickly, I reach my bedside table, find what I want and perched back on the edge of the bed again before you even know I have moved. I shift back slightly and lift my knees, resting my feet on the covers, either side of me. The folds of my pussy are now fully on display, running with excitement, the lips slightly puffed out.

I have had my vibrator for many years. It has been my only constant companion in my loneliness. My relentless partner in many a sexual endeavour, and has never failed to impress.

I desist with the teasing foreplay which I usually enjoy, but plunge straight in. Your hand is a blur, working fast as you strive to satisfy your needs. If there are any others observing our affair, they would surely be chuckling at a man with telescope to his eye, and a woman holding binoculars aloft partake in a frantic opera of long distance, mutual masturbation.

My vibrator buzzes in agreement as I work it in and out of my pussy. My vagina suddenly alive from the pulses and the stimulating vision before me. The sight of the head of your penis disappearing and then poking from the top of your hand does more to pleasure me than a stray finger, lingering deep inside me during a frustrating night alone.

You are bent over, watching me as I fuck my wet hole for you. Showing you what you could be doing with that shaft of yours instead of wanking off to what is nothing more than real life porn show.

Hand moving faster as my toy glides in and out amid a circumference of juices that run down to soak my bed covers. My other hand gripping the binoculars so that I don't miss the grand finally.

Was it written in the stars to be this perfect? That my orgasm alone is more intense and more prominent than any in recent memory, but to have yours burst out before me at the same moment only sends my pleasure to new heights.

My body convulses as I breathe out in a hard, rasping gasp. My womanhood closes tight around my toy as it buzzes within. You own body has gone ridged as your back straightens up. I am a little hurt that you are taking more enjoyment from your own ejaculation than from my own.

But as your knees tremble, your eyes close, your hand slows to hard, lengthy strokes, I see your hard cock expel a stream of thick fluid that splatters the pane in front of you. It's like you are trying to reach me with it. Firing off jet after jet at my helpless, writhing body as my pussy explodes before you.

I drop my binoculars; the sound although loud on the carpet does not reach my ears. I am deafened to all sounds as I collapse backwards on to my bed. My vibrator still inside me I grasp it tight, pushing it further in and holding my hands between my legs as I shake uncontrollably. I call out loudly, my eyes wide, my legs together, still clutching at my crotch until the orgasm subsides, and then only sensation left is the buzzing in my vagina, and a warmth that flows through my entire body, consuming me with a calm I haven't felt in a long, long while.

You are watching me again. You are forgiven for your indiscretion as I now know you watched the ending to the dramatic climax through your whitewashed window. I scramble for my binoculars again to see how you faired.

We stare at each other for a few more minutes that seem like hours, speaking a silent conversation without words. Each admiring the other as we stand in all our glory at the windows as naked as the day we were born. I am now happy to know, that your chest is indeed as hairy as your cock and just as seductive.

For countless nights we follow the same process. Sometimes varying the positions, but never the act. I have never been so highly sexed as this in my life, yet you have never laid a single finger upon me.

I realise now, it's not her fault that you are watching her beauty rather than my own. It's yours. It's you who has decided to forsake me. To cast me aside because someone better, younger and more beautiful fate has seen fit to be placed in the sights of your lens.

I therefore have no other choice. We could have carried on this affair to my grave, but you choose the other side of the fence. Very well. For if you choose to punish me in such a cruel manner, you will be punished too.

My calm and collected demeanour you know so well changes to one of discomfort and violation as I take a hold of the telephone.

I give the emergency services operator a detailed description of you, along with your address. I know every inch of you by now and relate the acts I have seen you partaking at your window. I am shocked, I am insulted, disgusted. I am profoundly outraged at the ordeal. As I hang up, my sudden flare of temper immediately dies away as my eyes return to my binoculars.

There you are, I see you shuffling to free yourself from the bonds of your underwear. You stand proud and magnificent, just as you did for me for those few wonderful nights. I watch as the rhythm of your fist beings pounding in intense urgency. It cuts deep inside me that once that rhythm was for me, as was the inevitable conclusion.

The climax comes for me as I see you jump; startled from your lethargy of self-abuse by something that courses you to whirl around in terror. You do not even get to finish as your manly body vanishes from view.

I mourn my loss a short while longer as you are escorted by two burly policemen from your building. I smile in satisfaction as I see you glance at the centre window of that building opposite your own, before one of them places his hand heavy upon your crew cut hair, and pushes you down in to the waiting car. You should have accepted me as the one and only, now it may be some time before you get to observe the female form again.

I wonder, how old are you? Twenty three? Twenty four? and I myself only sixty two. We could have been so good together, with our common vices and voyeuristic tenancies; a match made in a passionate, lust filled heaven. Instead you decided to take a different route, one that destroys my dreams. I feel used; an object cast aside when something better came along. I am a woman scorned. And for that I offer no forgiveness.


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