“Oh…” I let out a warm breath. “You like that?” I said, thumbing myself more vigorously. “You like watching me play with myself, you dirty old man?”
I knew he was watching.
Especially during hot summer nights, I could feel his eyes on me as I moved around my bedroom.
I could’ve made a complaint, of course, and that would’ve been the end of that.
I could’ve closed my blinds, and deprived him of his furtive pleasure in a second.
But actually… I didn’t mind.
Quite the opposite.
Flinging the windows wide to let in the heat, I moved onto the balcony in my ripped shorts and my damp cotton shirt, unbuttoned against the crest of my tanned breasts, sweat trickling into my cleavage.
I let him look.
I let him stare.
Focusing on his window across the way, I did my best to imagine what he was doing.
I had a pretty good idea.
No surprise there.
He was older than me — by at least two decades, I guessed. I’d even talked to him when he collected the newspaper from his driveway every morning. He was grey-haired, silver-stubbled, but thick-set and hard-bodied. He looked after himself. He had a bruiser’s build.
We exchanged pleasantries as if we were strangers.
But in reality, like so many evenings before, we were intimate.
I passed my tongue over my lips and clung to the balcony rail. I arched my back.
I could just make out his figure in the gloom of the window. There was a ghostly light, throwing up spidery shadows — a monitor or TV, perhaps. Was he filming me?
I didn’t mind.
I wanted to make a show for him, as I had so many times before.
Yet tonight was special.
I lifted my hand to my throat and traced my fingers down the swell of my breasts, lingering on the first button.
My nipples were already swelling. I wondered if he could see them, pressed against my shirt — no bra to diminish the effect.
I hoped so. I hoped he had his hand on his cock too.
Unfurling the bath robe I’d seen him in as he wandered into the light (and before switching it off), teasing it open, his cock stiffening as he massaged his balls.
It was probably big. He seemed the sort to have a brute of a cock: broad with a fat, pink head, I envisioned, a pearl of precum at the tip, his balls shaved bald and hefty.
I wondered what his dick tasted like as I started to unbutton my shirt, my nipples aching, my pussy already moistening.
And as I unpicked the last of my shirt’s buttons, I felt a tingle at the prospect of what I had in store, savoring the anticipation before I lay my shirt open, exposing my tits.
It didn’t matter that he was not the only neighbor in the street that might’ve seen me either, even though it was late.
The thrill overrode any trepidation.
The idea that others might be gawking made me even more aroused.
I licked my thumb and traced it over my right nipple.
It was stiff and unforgiving.
I looked down at my breasts and appreciated the view, just as he must’ve been.
Then I slid my shirt off my shoulders, letting it slither to the balcony floor, before attending to my shorts, unfastening them, and slowly easing them over my hips.
I’d neglected to wear panties too. I didn’t want to have any other layers to negotiate. And after my shorts spooled around my ankles, I kicked them aside and stood naked in the faint yellow glow from the eaves of the roof, passing my hands down the sides of my waist.
As I would with any other lover, I’d attended to myself with care, my bush neatly trimmed, my body clean and perfumed.
Beads of sweat were already clinging to my skin, though, and I enjoyed the feeling of dampness under my fingers, especially when I crept them down toward my pussy and widened my stance.
When my thumb came into contact with my clit, and I opened my labia, I let out a small, soft moan.
He was probably slowly pumping his length now, I thought, his fat cock fully erect, the web of his hand teasing against the shelf of his glans.
I felt a flutter of excitement at the fantasy.
And I rubbed gently against that stiff little nub, prodding my middle fingers into my slick opening, my belly flexing in pleasure.
“Oh…” I let out a warm breath. “You like that?” I said, thumbing myself more vigorously. “You like watching me play with myself, you dirty old man?”
No doubt he did. Every time I put on a show for him, he was ready and waiting, barely an outline in the dark.
But he was never late; never absent.
As reliable as any lover should be, especially when such nubile, yearning flesh was so ready and willing.
I bit my lip. My pussy was so wet now, my fingers eased in and out of my opening without the slightest resistance.
I put my head back and rubbed harder.
I wondered if he watched and waited until I was on the brink of my own orgasm before his own inevitable creamy release: a spouting mess that poured over his hand, sliding down onto his huge, hairless balls.
Such thoughts had always helped me cross the finish line. We were entwined in that moment like any other couple.
But tonight, he would have to be patient, as I pulled my hand away, and dropped my head, and offered him a teasing smile.
Not yet, that smile communicated as I licked my fingers.
Be patient, it seemed to say.
And I turned my cheek, and waited as the bathroom door opened, as from the steam stepped the evening’s surprise.
I’d picked Joel for the enhanced entertainment because he was a reliable fuckbuddy, a fantastic lay, and simply the most beautiful black man I knew.
He also had no problem with my arrangement with my voyeur; had been curious and maybe even excited by the prospect.
And that certainly seemed in evidence as he approached the balcony in glorious nakedness, his swinging cock already half-engorged, his eyes hot with lust.
“You started without me,” he said as he stepped into the evening’s warmth.
“I wanted him primed,” I replied as I looked over my shoulder, and Joel stepped up behind me, his hand immediately finding my ass.
He squeezed. I sighed. His hands, like his body, were chiseled from heavy work.
“You like to be watched, huh?” Joel said.
“I like to be fucked while I’m watched,” I replied.
“That can be arranged,” Joel brought his head down to mine, lips pressing against my mouth as I craned over my shoulder.
We kissed in passionate unselfconsciousness, Joel’s hands now skirting my ass and around my waist, and up to grasp at my tits.
He pinched my nipples. My pussy quivered.
I felt his cock bump against my crack.
I reached back and took it in my hand.
Fuck, it was big.
Fuck, it was getting hard.
A swelling lump of flesh; a powerful tool to probe me open.
I was aching for it now.
Even more so knowing that my depravity was on display.
And as I began to slowly jerk on Joel’s shaft, my mind strayed to the man who was doubtless intently watching this development with increasing surprise and excitement, pulling on his own length as I attended to his surrogate’s.
Joel grunted. I’d managed to stimulate his cock to bullish rigidity.
He turned me around and I kissed him some more.
Then he dropped to his haunches, and lifted my leg.
I anchored myself against the balcony, a hand snatching for the rail, as Joel spread my pussy to tongue at my clit.
He held me under my knee. My body stiffened. He sucked and smooched. My stomach clenched.
“Oh fuck, baby…” I clamped my free hand to my breast. “Oh, god yes…lick that pink pussy…”
I wasn’t sure how much could be seen from across the street. My back was facing his window. But I was too preoccupied to care.
I shivered. Gooseflesh dappled my skin. My nipples were swollen buds.
Joel was making me sodden.
He was making me ready.
He mouthed and probed, cupping my ass cheek with his left hand and holding my leg higher with his right.
I felt the climax build.
I bit down on my lip. I kept myself from shouting out. My pleasure peaked.
His tongue felt so fucking good, salivating on my clit. His lips were so soft, mouthing my pussy.
“Oh baby! Oh, honey…” I sighed.
The orgasm rolled through me. Joel sucked it out of me, my juices leaking into his mouth.
I shuddered and shivered.
He moaned and groaned.
Until finally he dropped my leg and pushed to his feet, and we kissed again, his lips sour but sweet from my pussy; his tongue urgent in my mouth.
I waxed his length. He pawed my ass.
Then he turned me around, and bent me over the rail.
And I knew what was coming next.
I’d wanted to suck him, but he was too eager.
I spread my hands across the balcony as if assuming the position.
Now I could stare out to the window, see the vague shadow that was loitering in the dark.
Joel put a hand on the small of my back.
His cock slapped once, twice, three times against my mound.
I flinched. He was teasing me. I arched my back again.
“Put it in me,” I croaked.
“You want me to fuck you now?”
I felt that blunt head sweep through my labia. It rested against my threshold.
“Fuck, Joel…I’m so damn wet…I’m so fucking ready…”
“I can feel it.”
“Fill me up then!”
Joel probed an inch. I hitched a breath.
My pussy expanded to take him; swallowing his head, feeding on his length.
I groaned. I kept my eyes on the window.
Imagining him wishing he was behind me now, like Joel, cramming his cock inside me.
Joel stroked deeper.
He forced himself into my deepest recesses: a clinging, supple warmth that sucked him to the hilt.
He was big. Hard. Fucking hard. Throbbing. Balls deep.
“Oh god…”
My knuckles sang white on the rail.
Joel began to work his cock, building tempo, hard hands on my back, hard cock in my cunt.
Skin slapped skin.
My ass started with each thrust.
Joel growled: “Shit…”
I mewed: “Oh baby…”
My tits trembled as they swung over the rail.
I briefly looked down onto the street. It was calm down there, as I was being buffeted up here.
But in the window? Doubtless he was jerking off; doubtless he was close to release.
As was I as Joel fucked me, my legs bracing, my tits trembling.
God he was deep. Man, I loved him fucking me.
“Don’t stop,” I warned him. “Make me cum…”
He did just that. Once again. Making me stifle a cry as my hand slapped over my mouth, feeling that all-consuming release.
And all the better for being watched.
All the better for eyes crawling over me: lusting over my breasts, my body, my sweet pussy.
My orgasm peaked.
I strained and shuddered.
I rasped against my palm as sweat filmed my skin.
Then Joel was out of me, springing free, his cock coated in my cream, his hand on my shoulder, dragging me around.
I dropped to my haunches knowing what Joel needed.
Now I could finally suck him: pull him between my lips, taste my own climax, savor my release.
Joel had moved far enough back so that I knew we could still be seen from across the street.
He’d done that for me, playing his part in the show.
And I played to the gallery too: one hand on my newly probed pussy, the other on Joel’s shaft.
I pumped his length as I greedily fed him between my lips. God, it was sexy tasting myself. Fuck, he was rigid and wide as I tried to pull him into my throat.
“Oh Lexi…” Joel dropped a hand on my head.
I put my fingers inside my cunt.
They easily explored, greased by my excitement.
I gagged on Joel’s cock.
I sucked him hard.
He looked down at me, eyes puckered, brow tight.
“Fuck…Oh God…”
I could feel him spasming.
I sensed he was close.
I wondered if my watcher was close too.
Was he waiting for the moment when Joel unleashed?
Was he trying to coordinate his orgasm?
I could only guess at how much he might cum. He’d probably waited all week for this moment…
“Cum for me, baby…” I hauled Joel from my lips. “I want to swallow it all! I want it down my throat…”
Joel raised his head. “Christ!”
I dipped my chin to lap at his balls: those big, heavy balls full of hot cream, ready to explode in my mouth.
“I want it, baby,” I told him. “Make me your cum slut…”
I jerked him harder. Joel hissed under his breath.
Then he growled: “Fuck…Fuck, I’m going to cum…”
And I levered him down to my mouth.
He exploded just as I’d hoped: a great geyser, too much to choke down all at once as it sprayed between my lips, surging over my tongue.
Some escaped and rolled down my throat. More coated my gleaming lips.
It was thick and salty and sticky as I did my best to gulp.
But my eyes were not on Joel as he looked down on me, but across the way, to the darkened window.
Could he see everything?
Was he watching closely?
Had he erupted like Joel? His cock straining as he came? His balls emptying over his belly? Slithering down his shaft? Dripping over his legs?
Was he wishing it was him?
Was he imagining my lips on his glans, as they were now on Joel’s, eking out more welling pearls of semen?
I hoped so. I longed for that to be true.
As I swallowed thickly, licking my lips, taking my fingers from my pussy.
“You enjoy that, babe?” were Joel’s first words when we finished.
I nodded as I stood, passing my tongue over my caked mouth.
“Do you think he did too?”
I looked into the darkened window. I offered a small smile.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But maybe we should find out…”
And I beckoned with a finger, across the street, to my avid admirer, before heading back into the bedroom, awaiting the response.