Unspeakable

The neighbour is up again. He likes to sit on his back porch and smoke Camel cigarettes and sneakily peer over the fence into my kitchen. I catch his gaze every so often but pretend not to do so; I know I should be outraged by such a breach of privacy but for some unfathomable reason I'm not.

He must be close to seventy. When I first moved in we would strike up friendly conversations when we chanced upon one another in our driveways; he served as a Marine in Vietnam, he has two kids who he never sees, his Wife of forty five years died last August. He rarely gets out these days and his health is degenerating at an increasingly rapid rate. He is an earthy guy, raw but gentle, certainly no threat, and he has obviously known a great deal of pain in his life. I liked him; there was a fatalistic sadness about the way he spoke that managed to maintain dignity without requiring sympathy.

But we haven't spoken in weeks, and our only contact has been of the unspoken variety as he peers through my window. It is an unusual development, and to be honest, I am trying to not think too much about it lest I get the creeps. Because it gives me a certain sense of excitement, a certain tingle of anticipation that when I pass that one spot in my house I am on display and that there is someone who is interested enough to be watching me. My entire house is sacred space and my own private castle where I am safe, and I make sure of that, but in that one section I am in the spotlight and on centre stage.

Yesterday, for the first time, I went about my home naked. I deliberately stood in that spot a little longer than I needed to and ran fingers along the tips of my nipples whilst staring vacantly ahead, oblivious to whether anyone was watching or not.

Feeling a fire building within, my hands gripped my breasts fully, squeezing and kneading them, rolling and pressuring the rigid buds that crowned them. It was turning me on to such an extent I was losing conscious control of my movements, and before I knew it, I was leaning against one side of the window and spreading my thighs open so I could run a hand down towards my pussy, tickling the light hair that covered it, delving deeper underneath until my fingertips were plucking my straining clit.

I lifted one foot and placed it on the window sill, revealing myself to the world outside, and began to thrust three fingers into my dripping cunt while still squeezing a breast above. I was lost in ecstasy, bucking my hips furiously as the first climax hit, then the second, I rolled my head back and let go a primal scream of release. The thought of being watched as I pleasured myself was driving me crazy.

Once sanity had been restored, I looked out and saw my next door spy sitting on his chair, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke rings with a slightly tilted head staring directly at me. No smile, no recognition of any type except the most subtle nod of what could have been thanks before standing, butting out his smoke and heading inside.

I imagined him laying on his bed, taking his hard cock with thick veins in his hand and jerking it violently to the thought of what I had just done. He was probably imagining me sucking that dick, tickling his balls with my tongue, kissing him passionately as I sank down on to him and allowed him to fill me completely. I would fuck him, grinding my hips and creating such friction on my clit that I would explode with orgasm after orgasm, and he would be unable to stand the sight for long before firing his seed deep within me.

What was happening here? Some creepy peeping tom was perving at me in my own house! And yet I wasn't disgusted, I wasn't even scared...I was turned on. I was excited, whatever was happening was giving me one of the biggest sexual thrills I have ever experienced. I have no interest in ever talking to him again, after all what could be said?, and certainly no desire to explore getting into a relationship with him. But if it makes him happy to sit there and enjoy my naked body and watch me masturbate, then that strangely works for me. If it gives him a joy that is otherwise absent in his life, perhaps if it gives him fodder for fantasy, then count me in. At this stage of my life, at this certain time, in this certain moment, it works for me. Some things are best kept unspoken, some experiences are best left unexplained.

So today I am turning it up a notch. The gloves are off. After checking he was there, I pull up a chair and take a seat, placing both feet on the window sill and spreading my legs wide open for him. He wants to watch? Then watch this. I turn on the vibrator and begin the evenings entertainment...