My latest erotic adventure kicked off the night my husband and I came home from a local roller derby event. The games were always raucous fun, with regional all-women teams going at it for all they were worth. Everybody jumped up and down and screamed themselves hoarse to root for the gals.
I was exhausted when we got home and told Steve I was going right up to bed. He told me he was going to stay up and have a drink. I kissed him and said good night.
The buzz of the evening’s excitement was still in my bones when I went into the bedroom and turned on a dim lamp. The game had been so physical, the girls on the track so butch but elegant at the same time. There was a latent sexual vibe to the spectacle. I think people were hoping one of the jerseys would get torn off for some tit-exposing fun.
The naughty thought lingered in my sleepy mind as I undressed. A tingle ran up my body as I dropped the last of my clothes. Put on a nightgown? Not that night. I decided I would sleep in the buff.
But I didn’t hurry into bed. Still standing, I felt my nipples stiffening. I put a hand to my breast, daintily trailing my fingernails over my nip. I shivered as a hot thrill went through me.
I smiled mischievously, trying to remember the last time I had seriously masturbated. Steve was such a faithful stud that I hardly needed to bother. But that night I felt an irresistible urge, despite how tired I was. I was in a hazy state, tinged with eroticism, and my body was my own, so if I wanted to touch it, I would.
I finally went to the bed, but I didn’t get under the covers. I lay back, spread my legs and grazed my fingers along my furrow. Already a sweet wetness was gathering there. Gooseflesh stood up on my arms, and my breath came in short pants.
Yes. Yes. I jacked off like I didn’t even have a beloved husband, like I was some horny coed away at college for the first time. It felt deliciously wicked.
That fantasy took shape as I continued to stroke myself. The carnal dream morphed, and suddenly I wasn’t so lonely anymore. I had a roller derby girl in bed with me. I pictured her face between my thighs, her mouth doing wonderful things to me, awakening every bygone lesbian impulse I’d ever indulged in. My fingers were inside me, working hard as my clit pulsed.
Right then, I felt a different kind of tingling. Fear. Or anxiety, anyway. Suddenly I realized the curtains were still open. There was a house directly across the street. Its upstairs windows were dark, but someone could have been watching me!
I lunged for the lamp and snapped it off. I panted in the dark, realizing I was still fiercely aroused. Helpless, I started fingering myself again with my eyes glued to the bedroom window across the way. No more roller girl fantasies whirled through my brain. Instead, I fixated on my imagined watcher, who might be very real. Who lived there? Somebody had moved in recently, I vaguely remembered.
I jerked with a stifled orgasmic cry, my pleasure raging and bright for several seconds. Holy fuck! What had I just done? I went to the window on hands and knees and pulled the curtains closed, then scurried underneath the covers. Somehow sleep found me.
Three nights later, when the episode had just started to fade from my mind, I again went up to bed alone. Steve had told me he had some contracts he needed to look over.
When I entered the bedroom, I saw the curtains were open. That puzzled me. I distinctly remembered closing them earlier that evening. Had Steve opened them for some reason? He must have. I didn’t turn on the light, but crept carefully up to the glass. I peered across the narrow street.
Dark windows on the opposite second story. But the curtains were open over there, too. I could tell. I squinted and detected movement. Like someone shifting weight from one leg to the other, somebody who’d been standing a while.
A—I gasped—a naked someone!
I could barely make him out, but it was definitely a him. I saw the silhouette, his masculine frame—and his cock. The ghostly suggestion of an erection there in the darkness. A nude male standing at his window, looking across at our bedroom.
My first impulse was to call Steve. He’d probably go storming across the street. Or I could call the cops.
But I did neither. Hiding behind the edge of the drape, I continued to stare at the stranger. Stranger? This was our neighbor! A neighbor who was a naked voyeur, apparently.
Had he watched me masturbate the other night? Heat flushed through me, but it wasn’t just embarrassment. A definite thrill accompanied the thought, which made my pussy tingle. I’d never even played with myself in front of Steve.
Due to the darkness, the man didn’t know I was in the bedroom yet, I realized. I was the voyeur now. I grinned naughtily, deliberately taking in the sight of his nude form. My eyes had gotten better adjusted, and his cock, I saw, was halfway hard.
He’s waiting for me!I thought with more than a little delight. I still didn’t fully understand my reaction. I should’ve been furious, should’ve felt violated. But this was so...harmless. It was like looking at porn. Besides, I was getting as good as I’d given. I was feasting my eyes on this unclad hunk.
Still behind the drape’s edge, I swiftly undressed. By that point my pussy was damp. I tweaked my nipples to arouse myself further.
Come on, fucker!I thought wickedly.It’s my turn now. Touch yourself!
Instead, the stranger stepped back from his window, and I cursed my lack of telepathic ability. But just as I was starting to feel stupid standing there naked, a light came on across the way. Suddenly, there he was! A shadow no more. I saw, even at that distance, how nicely molded he was, with distinct muscle groups on his fine bare body.
My eyes, of course, zeroed in on his cock. His shaft dangled enticingly. I figured he would grab a robe or leave the room, having given up on me for the night.
Instead, he stood there in his bedroom, with his head tilted slightly to the side as if staring into the distance or going over some important thought.
I realized his thick cock was beginning to rise! He ran a hand unselfconsciously over himself, across his chest and down his hard abs.
Oh God,I thought.Grab your cock!
This time my powers of mental suggestion evidently worked. Still gazing off to nowhere, he lazily wrapped his fingers around his shaft as he grew into full hardness. It was a scrumptious-looking length of meat, from the plum of his cockhead down to his shaven balls.
My breath caught. Casually, as if he had all the time in the world, he started jerking on his rod. Instantly my hand was between my legs. I slotted one, then two fingers up into myself, feeling the silky heat inside. Pleasure flowed all through me. Nerve clusters trembled with rising bliss. My clit was throbbing with need.
I couldn’t have had a better view—unless I’d been in the room with him. But this, somehow, was more exciting. I’d never entertained any serious thoughts about cheating on Steve, but this had an innocence to it. I was just watching, just pleasuring myself as I did so. I didn’t care if Steve thought about other women, if and when he jerked off. Make-believe did no harm.
OK, this wasn’t make-believe, but it wasn’t quite real either. I wasn’t having sex with this guy. If he chose to wank his cock with the curtains open and the lights on, that was his business. If I didn’t like it, I could either complain—trust me, I wasn’t in a complaining mood—or look away—and there was not much chance of that!
Granted, it was weird that he’d decided to turn on his lights. After all, he had to have been standing at his window in the dark hoping to see me, and hoping to remain undetected as I undressed for bed—and if he was lucky, indulge in another masturbatory session.
He was working himself at a steady rhythm, though not hurrying just to get himself to his orgasm. I liked that.
Take your time, do it right.
I fingered myself deeper as my excitement rose, reaching critical levels.
The whole thing was so goddamn naughty, and that was what pushed me over the edge, the idea that I was doing something deliciously bad. I came to a shuddering climax, clawing at the curtain. I swear the room went hazy a moment as I nearly swooned.
When I blinked back to reality, the man was still pumping away. I guessed he hadn’t seen the edge of the drape flutter.
Then it hit me all at once. The opened curtain. Steve had to have done it because I hadn’t. Steve...knew. He knew about the voyeur across the street. Maybe they’d met when I was at work and gotten chummy. Maybe my husband had said he’d leave the bedroom curtains open? It was a crazy thought.
But suddenly it wasn’t so crazy. How many times had I said to Steve I wished I’d been more sexually adventurous—done something outrageous? I’d mentioned BDSM wasn’t my thing—same for games with food, which just seemed unsanitary to me. But I had mentioned feeling excited by the idea of exhibitionism. Getting naked in front of a stranger. And the inverse of that: watching a stranger be naked.
Steve had provided the opportunity.
In a lovely daze, I turned on the overhead light. I stepped out from the edge of the drape into full view. I stood before the wide window, directly across from our masturbating neighbor.
Let him watch me,I thought with dark glee.
I could see his bright grin from all the way across the street. He didn’t stop pumping his cock. I put my fingers back up into me. My body streamed with wetness and light and heat and desire and pleasure. I felt radiant, exposed like that.
I fingered my pussy, and he fisted his meat, in a glorious mutual jackoff. Steve was somewhere downstairs, but I would tell him every detail of this incredible liberation.
The man was jerking himself faster. My curled fingers squirmed harder as I also coaxed my swollen clit. I groped my tits and tweaked my nipples. The ecstasy overwhelmed me, sending orgasmic squiggles through me. I was assaulted by tiny bolts of joy before the final ultimate crisis swept me away.
My climax almost put me on my knees. I swayed and cried out, and across the way, jizz went flying in a well-lit bedroom where a naked male stranger stood. Afterward, I blew him a kiss.