Window Sex Part III Secret Admirers
I guess you never expected to hear from me. I'm Bess Carver, the woman next door to Sage, Florenz, Madeleine, and Belinda. Of course I had only seen one room of the house and then only through the window, like watching TV. So how did I get in? Well, I'm coming to that. I not only got in but I joined the writing group there publishing on the online dirty stories site.
I better start at the beginning. Before it was Sage's (what a cool name!) room across from mine, there was Ibis. Ibis was beautiful. Slim and elegant. Dark hair--not sure if it was natural. She may have been a natural blond. She would roam the room naked in the evenings. And I was glued to my window. Better than TV. On several occasions (speaking of better than TV), she would have her BF over and I watched them screwing. That was when I started using a pair of opera glasses (better than the opera!).
After Ibis moved out, Sage moved in. He actually introduced himself to me when I was sitting on my back steps. He came up the alley and then into his backyard and said hi and then approached me where I was sitting smoking a cigarette. I was just sitting there nodding at him. I had already seen him in the altogether and there he was in front of me. Whew! But I was demure. Maybe too much so. I did indicate that I was a discrete person. Anyway there was the practically nightly show. That boy would whack himself silly. He seemed to stay hard all the time. He would orgasm, apparently, again and again. Probably the pot helped. Then the others started to join him. That's when it got even more interesting yet. He would beat off while these two women's legs were scissored around each other. Anyway, this went on and on. The boy jackin' off for me, lurching around in ecstasy.
At some point, I thought maybe I wanted more than mere window sex, not that I was complaining, mind you. But I am getting ahead of my story here.
I would sit by my window as if watching a movie. I had a nice easy chair pulled up to the window. I would sit in the dark, naked, smoking cigarettes and sipping Jameson. I would masturbate in a more or less leisurely fashion as I watched--and smoked--and drank. Better then TV. Better then books. Never really been all that much of a reader. Voyeurism suits me.
Sage would stand there before his window beating off. The others would be sitting around as the audience but never blocking my view. I was the audience officially unacknowledged but nevertheless meant to be included.
Sage would beat off, his hand flying, his penis oiled. He would pause from time to time, his penis pointedly erect--pointing upward stiffly--not to belabor the point. He was so obviously into it, so excited, so immersed and at the same time objectively performing. For me, no less. He would do it over and over, each time typically taking longer to orgasm. And between each bout, he would smoke some more pot, which revved him up, his drug-induced penis responding pluckily, his hand moving enthusiastically, pausing at intervals to display the oil-glistening member, bobbing and wagging.
And then there was Belinda! Oh wow! I know Florenz has already described her, since he writes these roman a clef stories for the dirty story web site. And now I do too, since here I am and here you are. Florenz has compared Belinda's boobs to sacks of grain. Indeed! Watching her on her knees in Sage's bedroom, her long breasts flying and swinging. She's also I think the friendliest because she talks with me in the backyard. Really, I'm in love with her.
But for all that, after a while, I felt that I wanted to enter into a new level of participation. More than just spectator. I wanted to be watched. But on the other hand, I did not want to spoil the excellent show with an awkward interruption. I needed to stage my own event in a timely way. For one thing, I wanted to catch them when they were in the room across from me. If they were orgasmically exhausted, what if they were not interested in my performance art? And if I waited until their lights went out, how would I know they even knew I was on stage?
So then one evening, when I was seriously liquored up on my beloved and inhibition-reducing Jameson, I threw on the lights in my bedroom, a sconce near the door for ambient lighting and a floor lamp next to the window for stage lighting. I was naked but not yet in view of the window/proscenium. Hesitating. Another gulp of Jameson and, not wanting to miss my opportunity, strode on stage. Voila! The naked and the nude! My real self there in the window! I stood there a moment, one knee bent, as if thinking, and I could hear them whispering and then the lights in Sage's room went out.
They were all in there when I did this: Sage, Florence, Belinda (my favorite, the well endowed one), and hairy lady Madeleine. The body builder lady who is their neighbor wasn't there. She's the one who comes over to fuck Florenz and hairy lady in front of me. Anyway, three of them were watching Sage jerking himself off, stroking enthusiastically while we avidly observed.
So I'm standing there and I light a cigarette and stand in front of the window as if casually savoring the tobacco. I guess it doesn't matter than I am being ridiculously obvious, since the whole pretense of all these charades being unintentional is a charade. I put out the cigarette and fluff my bush a little. I look down at it: some hair on the insides of the thighs, some creeping up the belly. Should I have pruned it? Naw--they're fine with it, I'm sure. Madeleine is plush with wiry dark hair. Belinda has a blond bush which is slightly transparent but abundant all the same. I jiggle my boobs up and down as if it is an absent minded gesture.
Then I sat down in my armchair facing the window. I poured another shot of whiskey and lit another cigarette and then threw my left leg over the arm of the chair and sat there, all spread out, and smoked and drank. My body was vibrating, almost shaking deliriously with the adrenaline or whatever it is that was flowing through me at the prospect of my secret admirers.
In this position, open to the world, center stage, I smoked another cigarette and sipped my Jameson. And then I took the plunge. I put my hand in my lap and pressed my fingers to my clitoris and madly masturbated. I don't know how long it took but eventually I came and I have this dreamlike memory of melodiously groaning in the process--and even, it seemed to me, groaning from the secret gallery nextdoor!
And then one evening just a few days after, came my big break. Belinda! She walked over to me, where I was sitting on the steps of my back porch. Her arms swinging--a jaunty walk--with her long legs--wearing short shorts and a bright and bulging halter top and putting to mind Wonder Woman. No, really!
"Bess!" I love hearing her call my name. And she sort of shouts it and stretches it out--"Bess!"
"Hi, Belinda. You look pretty tonight."
She made a humorous curtsy and said, "Thank you, kind lady." Then she stood there in front of me, biting her lower lip and taking me in with her gaze. I blushed but I returned her look. She put her arms on her hips and took a deep breath and let it out. "How about this, Bess my dear, why don't you come over to my house and join my housemates and me for a glass or three of wine and a joint? If you've nothing better to do, that is."
I was on my feet already. And so a new adventure would begin--behind the looking glass.
We entered her house through the enclosed back porch and into the kitchen. I have to admit it was very neatly kept--clean and orderly. I'd never been in their house before, you know. So I was pretty interested.
I think everybody's upstairs," she said. "Follow me." And we clambered up the stairway from the front hall as I ogled her svelte behind from behind. My heart was pounding, my breath came quickly. And it wasn't the stairway doing it either. We turned the corner at the landing and there was the dark hairy lady.
"Look who's here!" she called out, jubilantly it seemed to me, from the top of the stairs. "Welcome to our humble abode!
Remember me? I'm Madeleine."
"Hi again, Madeleine."
This lady has hair in her armpits, poking mischievously out of the sleeves of her short-sleeved blouse. It looked pretty sexy, if you ask me. (Note to self: grow armpit hair.)
They invited me into Madeleine's boudoir. She had a typewriter on her desk--a manual typewriter! "Cool decor," I told her, eyeing the machina verborem.
"Yeah, Maddy writes her salacious tales on it, among other things," Belinda explained.
Belinda directed me onto a love seat near the front window and sat down beside me. I liked that. "We've been writing erotic stories for a website where you can submit your own erotic stories and they're published on the site. Actually, Florenz is the official author but we are all producing grist for the mill, as it were."
While Belinda was telling me this, hairy lady was at her desk rolling a joint. She looks over at me now and says, "He made up a nom de guerre that represents all of us." She paused reflectively and then went on, "Nom de guerre? No! Nom de plume."
Then Florenz walked in. He is so handsome!
"I smell pot," he says. (Even though a joint hasn't even bit lit yet?) He's holding a bottle of red wine. He waves at me and says, "I'm Florenz. Just a friendly reminder." I'm starting to feel like they had this evening all planned out. Or maybe they're just good at impromptus. Madeleine lights the joint she just rolled, holds it out, and Belinda scuttles over to take it, and then hands it to me. Meanwhile, Madeleine has taken five wine glasses from a shelf over her typewriter and cutey boy is filling them. They get passed around, as does the joint.
"We were just telling Bess here about the dirty story site on the internet," Belinda tells Florenz, who has taken a seat in a wicker chair at the foot of the bed and off to one side toward the side wall.
"Yeah," he said, "We're a bunch of ghost writers."
Now Sage waltzes in. He's completely naked, which shouldn't be too surprising, I suppose. For a change, he didn't have a hard on. He stood inside the doorway looking around. "Was I supposed to be dressed for this?"
"You are never supposed to be dressed, baby cakes." Belinda told him. "You're fine just the way you are."
Sage smiled and did a little nodding and bobbing of his head to indicate acquiescence.
Florence handed him the joint. He took a hit while we all gazed upon him and when he let out a cloud of smoke, he looked at me and explained, "Well, I just took a shower, which is why I'm like this."
"You look clean," I said, and everybody laughed. I had thought as soon as it came from my mouth that it sounded lame, but these guys were clearly in a mood to be amused.
I was noticing that Sage, having now taken a seat and passing me the joint, was..uh..aroused. Maddy saw me noticing and remarked, "It's the pot. The guy gets a boner whenever he smokes pot. That's how he is able to beat off for you again and again."
"Remarkable," I remarked, still looking. Sage meanwhile was trying to look nonchalant.
"Sage is trying to look nonchalant," Maddy said, laughing.
"How can I look nonchalant," was the response, "when you are talking about my..."
"Boner," Maddy said as she took the joint from Belinda. "Good thing we've got lots of pot for boner boy."
The joint was finished. Maddy poured some more wine in my glass. Florenz took off his clothes—though as it turned out, he wasn't wearing much, just jeans and a tee-shirt—no drawers. Whew! Now there were two good looking young men in the room. Belinda stood up from the recamier on which she had been seated next to me and started stripping. I looked at her—unabashedly—given this unabashed group of people. I think I mentioned how much I'm in love with her. Everything about her is extraordinary: her sack of grain boobs (obviously), her height, her pale and taut, narrow hips, her slim though fleshily soft thighs, her fleshy vulva which I was now seeing close-up for the first time—thick and fleshy, genuinely like vertical lips. They rise high up from her crotch—that is, they are vertically rather long. Her blond nest of hair covers her prominent labia without obscuring them. But more than that, more than her alluring physical qualities, her presence is..reassuring. That may not be a strong enough word—but, really, she is one of those people who makes you feel comfortable and content just to be in their presence. Already I was starting to comprehend the importance of my new friendships in this house of charms and mysteries.
It was at this point that Sari came into the room. Already naked, she had apparently stripped as soon as she entered the house and then came upstairs in the nude. Sari doesn't live there. She's a neighbor. She is medium size, compactly built, small breasts, nice rounded hips--not too rounded--just a little fleshy flare. Very good figure, actually. She is dark with curly hair, and a long patrician (I guess you'd call it) nose. And there she is in the altogether. So Maddy starts rolling another joint while Sari introduces herself to me. Though of course I've seen her before, which I mentioned. This made her laugh.
"Oh yeah, of course," she said. And then she did a little naked, humorous curtsy.
Maddy stripped and now they were all naked except me.. They were standing there now, hands on hips, looking at me expectantly.
Sari said, "Well?" So I took off all my clothes—jeans, blouse, bra, panties--while they looked on. What a crew!
And now Sari took charge—the master of ceremonies—and things got pretty exciting. (Just when you thought they couldn't get any more exciting.)
"This is just ideal!" Sari exclaimed at this point, bringing her palms together in a spontaneous expression of glee. "We've the two masturbators here in one place finally—a moment we've all been anticipating. Let's take them into the bathroom and stage an event for our personal delectation."
"Boy," said Florenz, "you said a mouthful!"
"Thank you," she said, nodding in his direction. Then she turned and waving us onward, led the way to the bathroom across the hall. It was a nice roomy space with a bathtub on one side enclosed by a shower curtain along the length. Sari pulled the curtain wide open and punched it up at the far end and up against the wall. She bent to turn on the water, while we all dutifully observed her spritely flanks, tested it for temperature, and then flipped the nob that made the water come from the shower head. "All right, you two," she said to Sage and me, gesturing with the backs of her hands, "in you go!"
Here's the plan as it unfolded: Sage and I are in the shower together under a warm spray from the shower head, Sari hands Sage a plastic bottle of shampoo, and he squeezes out a handful of the white, creamy substance onto one hand and passes the bottle to me. I put some on my right hand and set the bottle down. Sage begins to masturbate with his shampooy palm. And then I did too. Florenz, Maddy, Sari, and Belinda are watching us. Sage sliding his hand up and down on his hard-on and me rubbing and caressing my clitoris, vaginal lips, and opening. Sage is so at one with himself as he beats off that I can almost feel it, as if I were jacking my penis, which I don't even have. I look around at the audience. Florenz is rather slowly, almost hypnotically masturbating himself. Sari is slowly massaging her pussy. Maddy is actually masturbating her startlingly long clitoris between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a dick! And Belinda was seated on the toilet seat cover, from which she had a full frontal view of me, and with her chin resting on one palm and her elbow on one knee, watched me and in doing so, inspired my sexual arousal to new heights.
I dropped my hand to my side as Sage ejaculated, expressing watery sperm arching in my direction. We both stood there, tuckered out performers. I stepped from the tub first and Sari wrapped a towel around my wet shoulders like a boxer emerging from the ring.
"I need...I need..." I stammered.
"Yes, sweetie," Sari cooed, "Come back to the room." We went across the hall--that is, Sari led me, her arms around my shoulders, and then she placed me on my back on the bed.
"Belinda!" I whimpered, tossing my head back and forth and stretching my arms out.
"Here I am," she said, now looming over the bed. Then she got up on the bed and facing the headboard, squatted down over my face and pressed her labia onto my lips. "Yes," she said, sighing, "this is what I want."
I said "me too" but my words were pretty much unintelligible under the circumstances.