New to the city, I’d moved into my apartment, unpacked my meager belongings and was just catching my breath. I didn’t know what exactly I was going to do, but it felt like the start of an adventure. I was a horny guy with my whole future ahead of me.

The apartment was only a modest studio, but it felt like my own kingdom, nonetheless. The building was halfway down a narrow alleyway, and there were trees on either side of my one broad window. I’d noticed when moving in I’d only had a view of one window in the opposite building. My place was screened in from everything else.

Restless that night, I made myself a cup of tea — marveling that was my mug and my stove. I felt independent. Free. Some part of me wanted to go out and prowl, seeking nameless escapades.

But that’s when I spotted a light against the drapes that were drawn closed across my big window. I went to take a peek. Earlier, the window across the alley had been unlit. As I put my eye to the gap between the fabric panels, I saw the room was not only lit, but the curtains over there had been drawn completely aside. A jolt of adrenaline shot through me.

It looked like another studio apartment across the way. But that wasn’t what stunned me, of course. The room had an occupant. It was a woman. A hot woman. And she was moving casually about in nothing but her underwear!

It was sexy underwear, too: lacy panties and a frilly bra — the colors bold and provocative. They were the sort of underthings a woman probably wore when she wanted to turn someone on.

I was definitely and immediately turned on. My cock swelled in my pants as I fixed my gaze on her. Mesmerized, I watched the woman prance blithely around, doing this domestic chore and that. Her movements were graceful and unselfconscious.

When she bent over, I devoured her ass with my hungry eyes. I worshiped the swells of her tits, barely contained by her bra. Every inch of her was the feminine ideal, curvy and lush. I wanted to kiss her thighs, wanted to rub my cock along the sweet ravine of her ass cheeks.

I wrenched my attention away from the window, suddenly ashamed. Or maybe I just thought I should be ashamed. That woman over there was entitled to her privacy.

I poured my now cold tea down the drain and forced myself to go to bed. But mental images of that beautiful stranger stayed with me.

The next night, I tried to keep busy, but when the light came on across the way I took another secret look. Pulling my drape a few centimeters aside, I gawked once again, my shock even greater this time.

That night, she was in a glorious lingerie ensemble: stockings, a garter belt and bustier. No panties. I almost wept at the sight of her hairless pussy. She was even wearing a pair of high heels, making her the sexiest thing alive.

Lost in an erotic trance, I watched her sashay around her apartment. My hard-on was painful, and I had no choice but to pull it out. My erection throbbed in my own hand, and on instinct, I started pumping my meat.

She walked back and forth, pausing to eye herself in a full-length mirror. She ran her hands up her luscious body, squeezing her tits through the bustier. Turning around, she studied the lovely bare mounds of her ass. These she caressed as well.

I groaned aloud, then bit down on the sound as if she might hear. I jerked my cock harder, and excitement shook me to my core. I’d never spied on anyone else before peeping at that woman. I hadn’t realized how deliciously naughty it would feel.

As I was jacking myself toward a furious climax, it occurred to me to wonder what she was doing. I wondered if the woman routinely paraded around her home in lingerie, wearing heels and striking poses.

I cried out as my come went flying.

It was almost as if she knew someone was watching. The revelation rang through my head while thick spurts of my cream hit the floor, and I sagged with sweet release.

Once more I backed away from the window and went to bed. Did she in fact know I was watching? The way our windows were set up no one else could see into her place, same as mine. We had privacy, of a sort.

I could barely wait for the following night, though I was as nervous as hell. I had a bold plan to expose myself to her. But what if I had read the situation wrong? What if the whole thing was innocent on her part? If that were the case, she would see me and be utterly horrified. Worse, she might think I was a pervert!

But there had to be some payback, I’d argued. I’d seen her and appreciated her. She deserved a look at me. Fair was fair.

At the last minute, though, I halfway chickened out. I put swimming trunks on over my briefs. Taking a deep breath, I boldly pulled aside my drapes.

She was in her apartment. I stood in my wide window, my bare torso and legs on display. She was in a different set of lingerie that night, a camisole and fishnet thigh-highs. She was unbelievably hot, as always.

She paused in her parading and turned to face me. She gazed expressionlessly for a few seconds, while I anxiously awaited a response.

Finally, she grinned and her eyes went up and down my body. I could almost feel her gaze. Her attention made my cock stir. Her eyes centered on my swim trunks, and she got a pouty look on her pretty face.

I got the message. I slipped off the trunks and stood there in my briefs. My cock bulged prominently. A new thrill gripped me. I was no longer just the voyeur — I was also the exhibitionist! Again, it was a mischievous pleasure I’d never suspected existed.

She visibly drank in the sight of me. Once again, though, her gaze came to rest and she pouted. I understood: She wanted me to lose the underwear. She wanted to see me buck-fucking-naked.

Well hell, my cock was about to snap my briefs right off me anyway. Like there was no going back, I skinned off the underwear. My shaft and swollen cockhead jutted out before me as hard as a spike. In no time, its tip glistened with a drop of pre-come.

Grinning again, she lifted the camisole off herself. She wore only her fishnets, and she looked whorishly beautiful. We stood there, facing each other, separated only by glass and a dozen feet of alleyway.

We were two exotic exhibits in our respective display cases. Mutual attractions, each presented for an audience of one. The moment was sexually magical. I’d never experienced a level of arousal like that before.

Her hands went to her tits. But there was no idle caressing; she groped herself ardently. I watched her fingers sink into the luscious globes of flesh. She tweaked her stiffened nipples, and her mouth fell open on a soundless cry.

Hesitantly, I ran a hand over my upper body. Her eyes glittered as she watched. On a whim I touched my own nipples, and desire surged visibly onto her face. I gave her a good show of it, tweaking myself as hard as she seemed to be doing herself. It was a strange sensation — but not without pleasure, I was startled to find.

With one hand still caressing her tits, she glided her palm down over her flat belly. She planted her stockinged feet apart, and I could see her pussy was a shiny cleft. Teasingly, she grazed her fingertips around her enticing slit, and lust shone brighter on her features.

Finally, she traced a finger along her groove, from top to bottom, and her body shuddered.

“Yes, yes!” I called out. “Stick it in!”

She couldn’t have possibly heard me, but maybe she read my lips. Or maybe she was so caught up in our scene there was no stopping her.

As I continued to gaze in my rapture, she slid her finger deep inside herself. It was a beautiful sight. The finger came out wet, and she jammed it back inside. She worked herself slowly at first, but began to pick up speed.

Meanwhile, I let my hand drift to my crotch. I took hold of my achingly erect member, and my shaft pulsed in my grip. As she continued to finger herself, I started to jerk off. I had never done such a thing in the presence of anyone else — much less a naked woman who was also masturbating. It was incredible — and incredibly hot.

Pleasure coated my body, and it felt like layers of swimming joy. The sensation ran deeper than flesh, though. My mind was turned on. Ours was a gloriously kinky exercise. A one-in-a-million sexual experience that I almost couldn’t believe was happening, even while it was going on.

The sense of exposure I felt. The naughtiness of watching her. The two sensations met and collided and formed something greater.

She added a finger, rocketing those digits in and out of her pussy. Her body was writhing as pleasure moved through her in almost visible currents — great torrents of excitement and orgasmic energy about to burst through to the surface.

Her face was etched with ecstasy as she tweaked her tit, while her other hand appeared to be stroking her swollen clit toward triumph.

“Yeah, yeah! Come! Make yourself come!” I shouted.

But maybe I was making her come, too. Our encounter wasn’t happening by accident. She had set this up deliberately, I felt it in my bones. She had hoped I would spy on her at first. Then later she’d no doubt wanted me to show myself, and I had.

Her mouth opened wide, and I could almost hear her climactic moans through our respective panes of glass. She staggered back a step as ecstasy swept her up. She looked across at me with big eyes that brimmed with gratitude. Maybe others who’d lived in my studio hadn’t played as well as me.

But I wasn’t done. I jerked myself faster, determined to send myself into bliss after her. The sparkle came back into her eyes. She was definitely getting off on watching me shamelessly masturbate.

She lifted her two damp fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. She grinned devilishly, and the sight of her sent me into overdrive. My hand was a blur, and my veiny cock throbbed. My balls tightened as joy overtook me, and with a cry, I was suddenly raining my pearly juice against the window.

Afterward, she held up a sheet of paper with a message written in marker: COME OVER HERE.