Alcimedes - House of Unfinished Stories

I live in a townhouse. I've had this place for about 18 months. They are brand new and very lovely. The townhouse next to mine was not sold until about 6 months ago. Up until then it was empty so I had a lot of privacy. I even walked outside naked in the evening and laid in the grass, looking at the stars. This summer was very, very, hot here, and I got used to walking around the house naked (which I do anyway) but I never put the curtains down because there was no one in the next house anyway. One night I was in my room rubbing Oil of Olay on my body. I was standing right up next to the window and I felt like someone was watching me. I looked out the window and saw the boy who moved in next store with his parents looking at me through the window. He's only about 13 or 14 years old! I wasn't sure what to do, so I did nothing. I went right ahead and rubbed the cream in and acted like he wasn't there. I thought that if he liked what he saw and it didn't upset him then it was ok and if it did upset him, then he deserved it. What business did he have looking in my window? The next evening I thought I would see if he showed up again. I went to my room about the same time, put on all the lights, and massaged myself with the cream again. Sure enough, he was there a few minutes later. I had an audience that apparently liked my performance! I stood fairly close to the window and faced outward but I didn't look directly at him, at first.He could see me from my head down to about my hips. I slowly rubbed the cream into my chest and around my nipples.

I half looked at him and could see he was hypnotized by my breasts. He never even noticed I was looking back at him. I rubbed the cream down across my belly, towards my pubic area. He didn't seem as interested but when I moved my fingers up to my nipples again, I saw him move. I couldn't see what he was doing but from the motion of his body I was pretty sure he was masturbating! It made me wild to think a young boy was getting turned on by me! I might have been the first girl he had ever really seen naked! I kept rubbing my breasts with one hand and fingered myself with the other. I was so excited watching what he was doing that it made me cum very quickly and very often and very hard! When I saw him lean up against the window, I knew that he had cum too. I was almost glad, my knees went weak and I had to lay down. The funny part was that I was still excited. I laid there for quite a long time doing it over and over. I just couldn't stop. I see him still from time to time, peering out the window. I usually keep the curtains closed now. I'd be horrified if his parents ever came into his room and saw me giving their boy a show! But, every now and then, when I know he's home alone, I open the curtains and we masturbate together. I'm pretty sure he knows that I do it for him on purpose. I've looked over at him and he avoids my eyes but he doesn't go away. It's kind of fun but I think, in a few years, when he's old enough, I may get a knock on my door!! LOL I'll deal with that when the time comes *s*

The crushed soda can rattled loudly as it tumbled down the sidewalk, coming to rest as if being invited to be kicked again. Timothy Morton hoisted his backpack up his back, pulling the straps tightly as he prepared to hammer the can again, venting his frustrations with the point of his shoe.

The Morton family had pulled up stakes and moved to the suburbs, leaving the small rural town of Timothy's birth, in hopes of a better life, a step up the ladder in his fathers career. Gone was the house and the comfort of the room he'd known since childhood, gone was the expansive back yard and the delightful seclusion of the woods beyond, and worst of all, gone were the friendships. Friendships had always been more a matter of proximity in the small town of his childhood, founded more on the nature of small town life; small town, small school, and an even smaller number of kids close enough nearby to the house to play with. It never seemed to matter much to Timothy, knowing no other kind of life. Your friends were those that you knew, and although you might not call them close, they were the only friends to be had.

Standing at his locker amid the bustling students as they finished their day, Timothy loaded his backpacks with books and readied himself for the long walk home, closing the locker and snapping shut it's lock before turning to go. But as he turned to leave, he accidentally stepped right into the path of one of the school bullies, a rather broad and large Neanderthal who made it a point of talking loudly and humiliating anyone in his vicinity.

Timothy looked up with stunned eyes as the thug hovered over him, then turned to leave only after scanning the hallway to assure he'd garnered everyone's attention. If the anxiety of having a run in with the class goon had not been enough, Timothy's humiliation would only be topped as he looked to his side to see two of the few girls he knew, both the eye of every male in his class, pointing and laughing at him as he lay sprawled out on the ground. It was now complete; total humiliation.

"I hate this place!" He snarled with gnashed teeth. Shuffling further down the sidewalk, slowly making his way to the turn of his street, Timothy contemplated the only saving grace to come; school was only two weeks from mercifully ending and it would not be soon enough as far as he was concerned. But with no one to call his friend, and no prospects of ever returning to where he wanted to be, the expectations of summer vacation had somehow dulled into a future of boredom and malaise.

The townhouse complex they'd moved into was new, and as of yet unfilled, leaving the street quite and barren at times. Timothy spent his days wandering around, exploring what was beyond, riding his bicycle around the neighboring streets as far as he was allowed, fending mostly to himself as both his mother and father worked. As the days grew warmer and longer, he would occasionally make his way to the community pool to enjoy the coolness of the water as he had in the stream that donned the property behind his old life, but the solitude of this community place seemed to take away the luster of it's appeal. He had found that there were no other kids in the complex, at least none his age.

It was then, on a particularly hot summer day, that things would change. It had been a day like many others, filled with trinkets of interest in his daily wanderings; a trip to the pool for a noon time swim, a casual bike ride with a new street to explore, and as the sun began to warm the sky into a warm and glowing blanket of orange and red, a walk to the small patch of grass at the end of the complex to hear the serenade of insects as they began their nightly ritual.

Returning home, Timothy was greeted by the tired hello's of his parents, both sitting lazily in front of the television as they attempted to unwind from the stresses of new jobs, and new bills to pay. It was a world remote to Timothy, a world of working the year round, of the worries of support and careers, and although he could not understand the strains that preoccupied their minds, he could see the time it took away from their attention of him. But it was enough that they still tried, still cared enough to ask, "How was your day?", before falling soundly asleep as he sat awake in his room.

It was on this night, like many other nights as Timothy sat in his room, thinking about his day and planning the next, that would cast a new light on his summer. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed, thumbing through a familiar book, one he'd read before but had particularly enjoyed, when a remote glow of light from the window caught his attention. He'd not paid much attention to the view from his room, having felt the disappointment in comparison from the serene vista of his former room, the glare of a street lamp just outside now blanking out the stars he'd enjoyed watching before.

But tonight seemed different, odd, and it was only as he stood and walked to the window that he realized that the street light was not on. Strange, but not alarmingly so, and it was with mild curiosity that Timothy noticed the light that had caught his attention was coming from a window across the way. Craning his neck in an effort to see the night sky, Timothy felt disappointment again as the heights of the buildings would still block his view of the night sky. And it was with a sigh that he would lower his eyes as he prepared to return to his reading, that he would notice movement in the window beyond.

It was only a glimpse, but a recognizable one, of the long blond hair of a woman as she walked into a room. Timothy sat curiously frozen in his tracks as he watched the image of her move past the window, and he felt a jump in his heart as he began to realize that he was looking into the window of her bedroom. With only a quick glimpse of her as she passed to and fro, going about her business, Timothy felt a twinge of familiar recognition, of feeling as though he'd seen this person before, and it was not until she would pass by the window one more time, that he'd remember.

Timothy could see her as she moved about in front of the window, the soft light of her room spilling out to fill his eyes, and he could feel his heart rise and fall each time she would disappear from his view, only to return again and send his heartbeat, and excitement soaring. But as his mind began to almost reluctantly contemplate the possibilities of this subtle illusion of lighting, his heart fell once more as the woman in the window flipped off the light switch as she left the room.

Timothy sat for nearly an hour, watching the distant window, and waiting for her return, before the excitement and the late hour coupled to squelch his energy and ability to remain awake for a moment longer. Crawling into his bed, leaving the covers crumpled at his feet from the summer heat, he drifted quickly off to sleep.

The morning would find the air somehow crisper, the sky just a touch brighter for Timothy as the remembrances of the night before scratched at the back of his young mind through the day. The dip in the pool fresher, and the bike ride effortless as his mind seemed to wander as he made his rounds, repeating with an almost automation the routine of what had become the schedules of his carefree days. And it was only after the sun had once again played it's brilliant song of light against the sky, bidding farewell to the day inviting the night with it's festival of colors, that Timothy began to wake from the daydreaming of the long afternoon.

With a peck on the forehead from his parents as the headed for sleep, Timothy retreated to his room with an odd sensation of excitement. Gently closing his door, he walked cautiously toward the window, feeling a strangeness and curiosity he'd never known before come over him as he stepped to the sill. Indeed, no one had come that day to fix the street lamps expired light, and as before, Timothy could see comfortably out into the night. but as he stood, bashfully looking across the way, he felt the equally strange disappointment of seeing no light coming from the window beyond. Deciding to change into his pajamas, Timothy struggled with this new and unfamiliar uneasiness about himself.

What was the cause of light headedness? So strange. And with a touch of irony, it was only after Timothy sat at the edge of his bed, once again cradling the same book from the night before, that he would see the light gently illuminate outside his window. the almost eerie timing sent a small chill through him, as he began to think of the window beyond. Gently and quietly, he closed the pages of his book, setting it to his side as he slowly stood and stepped toward the window. It was, as he'd hoped, the light within the bedroom of the woman that had shone through his, and Timothy stood silent and still as he waited to see her again.

And as before, he watched as she passed in front of the window, stooping slightly at the edge of her dresser as she removed the delicate jewelry that she wore, gently placing them down before turning and walking away. It was a glimpse into a world that Timothy knew nothing of. True, he had seen his mother do the same, but this was so different.

He stood by the window patiently, waiting and watching as time passed without a sign of her. Had she gone? Had I missed her? But as a moth drawn to a flame, for as long as the light of her window glowed, Timothy could not take his eyes, nor his mind, from her window. And it was after a time, his vigilance wearing away at his energy, that he again saw the stirrings of movement in the shadows of her room. And as he prepared himself for the sight of her again, he could scarcely have imagined what was to reward his patience.

Stepping into the frame of the window, across the stretch of space that was the far end of her room, Timothy watched as she stepped into view, wearing the soft wrappings of a soft terrycloth robe, her hair bundled in a towel. It was obvious that she had come from bathing, and Timothy stared with silent fascination as she performed the gentle unwrapping of her hair and began to gently stroke through it's length with her brush. He was fascinated with her grace, the smooth motions as she carefully stroked her hair, gracefully pulling it away from her as she tendered to it's need. It was then, as Timothy watched with mesmerized fascination, that she gently laid the brush to rest, and slowly opened her robe, sliding it gently off her shoulders to drop to the floor, her bare back showing to the window. Timothy's eye's glared wide as they followed the gently curve of her back, tracing it's lines to the gentle hourglass flare of her hips.

If had the strength of ten, it would not have been possible to move as he stood transfixed, his mid a blur of youthful excitement at the vision before him. She reached for something on the dresser, emptying it's contents into her hand, and gently began to rub it along the length of her arm. Timothy felt as if he could hardly breath as she slowly turned and stepped toward the window, her arms crossed as she continued to rub along the length of her upper arm, concealing from Timothy's eyes the magical view for which even his wildest dreams had never imagined. And as her hand slowly and tenderly slipped down the length of her arm one more time, standing in the window before Timothy was a vision of heavenly beauty and excitement he'd never conceived.

The corners of his consciousness followed the motion of her hand, as it moved across her shoulder and across the soft cleft of her neck as she gently tilted her head gently back, but the focus of Timothy's being fell to the unmasked object of his youthful fantasies. A rigid shiver of energy gripped his body as he stood paralyzed, staring at the vision of inviting softness and tear dropped beauty of her breasts, the contrasting color and protruding softness of her nipples riveting his attention.

Like a statue, he stood helpless to his desires as she continued to smooth the lotion across her skin, her hands gently massaging her softness, but his eyes remaining transfixed to the magic of her chest. The vision of her nakedness was cast with such intensity that Timothy never noticed the pause in her motion, the hesitant stillness followed by a gentle sway of her body.

Time had stood still for Timothy, and it was only the parting of her image as she stepped away from the window and out of view that would break the spell he was under. almost as suddenly as he reeled she was gone, the light from her room went silent, jolting him with it's suddenness, and sending him staggering away from the window in a daze.

Trembling as he stood, his mind floating high above his body, he began to feel lost as his thoughts swirled, and his body beckoned with newfound sensations, enough to instill the urge for flight as he reached for the light switch and dove for the comfort of his bed. Clambering under the cool softness of his sheets, he lay struggling to catch his breath as he began to feel a narrowing of sensation from his body, gathering strength in his groin. It was a sensation not unknown, but somehow powerfully different this time, calling to him with a sirened song he'd never heard before.

And as he lay still, his hand slowly pulled by instinct from his side, sliding underneath the confines of the elastic of his pajamas, he felt the slickened dampness of excitement on his skin. And as he found he courage to gently trace the origins of this new and troubling exuberance, his body shook with excitement as his fingers gently swirled the mysterious fluid around the head of his engorged boyhood. There was no condition, no thought, no control strong enough to forestay the inevitable, as his fingers first hesitantly, then enthusiastically began to explore the sensation of sliding along the length of his straining penis.

And as his hand began to form an instinctual envelope, finding the tip of his penis as it expectantly oozed another drop of desire, he began to slowly press himself into the warmth and comfort of his grip. It was more than his young mind could fathom, and his body took control, immediately emptying his enthusiasm into his slickened hand. Timothy's body clenched with rigid fear and overwhelming pleasure as he felt the tingling moistness well from inside him, jetting forth with each blissful contraction. His hand and his hips continued the rhythmic dance until there was no more, exhausting all that was in him and draining his ability to breath. Sweating, and breathless, Timothy lay silent and soaked as he contemplated what had happened.

The hands of time would play their cruel and unforgiving trick on Timothy the following day, refusing to bend to the excitement and eager anticipation of his young mind, marching ever slower in his eyes as he awaited the night. All that had been routine had become torturously slow as he pedaled and fidgeted his way through the afternoon, bicycling twice what had once taken an entire day.

His distress was not lost on his mother, noticing the nervousness in his speech and stride on her arrival home. But Timothy's amorous appetite at the dinner table dispelled her fears, as well as his own. It was only after the ritual good nights and retreating to his room that Timothy would again begin to feel tension of youthful angst, this night focused as it had never been before.

Waiting for the night to take hold, and the quiet confirming his parent's sleep before gingerly locking his door, Timothy sat nervously sat at the edge of his bed once again, book in hand. Never looking at it's pages, instead almost willing the magic of the previous nights to re-occur, he sat silently awaiting the signal light from his window.

Like a light from heaven, Timothy felt his heart rise in his throat as he saw the familiar glow from outside. Standing back from the frightening allure of it's promise, he watched from afar as the movement from her window signaled her arrival. After attempting to swallow away the dryness of his parched mouth, he stepped slowly toward the window, and peered once again across the void of the darkened night that separated him from this vision from heaven that he'd been granted.

And as the night before, she would appear to him clad in the softness of terry cloth this time with her hair softly dry and flowing down her back. But tonight, he would find himself drawn closer and closer to the window as he watched with blinded excitement as she walked toward the window, halting only as she reached it's edge. The world outside his window slowly became a pillowy softness as his attention focused further and further onto her, as she had before, coming to him covered by her own arms and slowly revealing herself to him. And as before, Timothy fell under the spell of her beauty, standing motionless as she gently and slowly rubbed her body with moistness.

But tonight would find Timothy sent to new worlds as he glared dreamily as her hand swirled along her soft skin, gently gliding down her chest, to slowly and softly cup underneath her breast. He could feel his heart begin to pound in his chest, as she dabbed her hand once more with her lotion and began to gently swirl the smooth and cool lotion over her breast, drawing forth her nipple between her finger and thumb.

Timothy began to feel a wave of heat flush through his body as her hands continued down, her arms slowly pressing together the object of his fascination, seemingly making them grow and reach toward his hungry eyes. Her could not move his eyes from them, from her, even though he began to feel the presence of her attention. He simply stood and watched the rise and fall of her glistening skin and the inviting hunger of his desire.

It was then that he watched as one of her hands emerged from the mystery of the windows edge, gently winding it's way back to her breast, pinching her nipple, expressing it toward him. It was more than he could take, as he began to feel the building hunger between his legs, begging his attention and blinding him to all else.

And as he succumbed to it's will, sliding his hand under the grip of his pajamas, he saw as she closed her eyes, her shoulders dipping forward as her hand reached further between her legs. Gathering the slickness that covered his excited member, Timothy began to swirl his hand over it's head before taking firm hold and sliding it's rigidity in and out of his palm. Still frozen his eyes began to swell with excitement as he watched hers close and a small shudder run through her body.

Did she feel the same as me? And it was then , as he began to feel the power in his loins begin to peak as it had the night before, that he looked to see that she seemed to be looking right into his eyes. In a brief moment of agony and ecstasy, Timothy began to realize that she had seen him, but there would be no stopping the torrent of tension that began to release from inside him. His eyes glazed in a dizzying menagerie of stars as he began to come, his body clenching and releasing as he pumped from within, bathing his hand in warm excitement.