Disclaimer:  For ADULTS only.  You know who you are.  If you have to guess, then 
you're not.  Stop reading now, or it'll stunt your growth.

(f mast, sex toys, voyeurism)

The Girl Next Door-Chapter 2.

I ended up leaving work early.  Staying up all night jerking off tends to wear you out a 
bit, so I faked sick, and left work before noon.  My clients probably wouldn't like it, but 
right then I didn't much care.  I was exhausted, and still couldn't get the images from the 
night before out of my mind. 

 On the train home I found myself doodling on a notepad I keep with me, lost in my 
exhaustion.only to look down and find I was drawing clothespins, the curve of her 
ass.all sorts of things I didn't want to have to explain to people walking by.   I was quite 
happy when I arrived home and flopped face first onto the couch.

I didn't feel like moving at all, but eventually, I managed to get up, strip off my clothes 
and crawl into bed.  Thankfully I was able to finally put my neighbor out of my mind and 
I collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up a few hours later, mainly because the sun was shining through my window 
directly onto my face.  I groaned and moved out of the way, but it was too late.  I 
couldn't get back to sleep.  Regretfully, I decided to crawl out of bed and try to become 
human again.  I was just finishing brushing my teeth when I heard strong bass music 
pounding from the balcony. 

 At first, I was pretty good.  I calmly finished brushing my teeth, combed the worst 
bedhead out of my hair, and threw on another set of workout clothes, this time sweats and 
an old beer shirt.  I  thought about whether I was feeling good enough to head downstairs 
for a workout or not.  I decided that I should probably eat first, so I went to the kitchen to 
make some pasta or something.

Unfortunately, you can see the balcony from my kitchen.  Any sense of self control I had 
left me as soon as I noticed this little fact.  I put down the old pot I was filling with water, 
and nonchalantly moved a little further to my right, so I could get a better view.  
Actually, it was an incredible view.  

My neighbor was stretching her hamstrings.  I'm sure you know the pose, but I'll 
describe it for you anyway.  Imagine the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, one  
you watched commit seriously depraved acts on herself the night before.  Now, imagine 
her facing away from you, with her legs perfectly straight, as she is bending to the 
ground, touching her toes, ass proudly displayed.  Now, imagine a leotard made from 
white and blue material so thin, it was virtually not there.  Add in the sun shining 
brightly, making the white part of the outfit almost invisible.  I don't think I remembered 
to breathe for quite some time.

She was in no hurry to move.  Slowly, carefully she stretched each muscle group in turn, 
allowing me to see each and every angle. Had she looked in my direction, she would have 
seen me, but she was too caught up in her stretches to notice.  I was rooted to the spot.

Eventually, she finished, and she began to move to the music.  It wasn't dance, and it 
wasn't aerobics exactly, but somewhere in between.  I had never seen anything like it, but 
it was extremely athletic and fast paced.  She whirled, twirled, even jumped in the air 
several times.  I realized she was an expert as whatever form of exercise this was.  I 
became so interested in watching what she was doing, I actually pulled a chair over and 
sat down, mesmerized by what I was seeing.

Several minutes passed and she was still going strong.  I already knew this girl could 
sweat from the night before, and today was no different.  Her long hair was starting to 
mat down with perspiration, sometimes sticking to her face as she moved through her 
routine.  I could see the sweat starting to run down her neck, causing her cleavage to 
glisten in the bright sunlight.  Eventually, the CD stopped playing, and she was left 
heaving in gulps of air.  God, she looked amazing.  I thought she was finished, I sure 
would have been.  But after a few moments, she popped the CD out, and put another in.

The music changed from an up tempo, beat driven dance mix to a quiet, reflective, slow 
paced groove with Indian influences.  She began to pose in what had to be yoga.  I wasn't 
very familiar with it, but people around the office had taken classes, marveling about how 
tough it was, but how good it made you feel.  Each of the poses she did looked extremely 
difficult, requiring balance, strength and endurance.  My neighbor made it look easy, but 
after a few more minutes, I noticed her leotard was starting to get soaked through with 
her perspiration.  I could actually see the dark circles of her nipples through the flimsy, 
wet fabric. I guessed that it must be starting to chafe.

Apparently, she noticed too.  She broke her routine, and without a second glance, pulled 
the leotard off, and reached for a towel.  I strained my neck to look around the corner, 
and watched her carefully dry off some of the sweat from her torso.  She was looking 
down at herself quite intently, and eventually I saw why: the purple bruises from the 
night before.  Her chocolate colored nipples hid most of the damage, but the marks were 
definitely there. Happy to be set free, they started to harden once they were let out of 
their lycra prison.  I guessed they must still be quite tender, and my dick hardened at the 
sight.

I was wondering why I found those marks on her nipples so arousing.  I had never been 
into pain.  I had even kicked a girl out of my bed because she asked me to spank her.  So 
why were these marks different?

I didn't have time to wonder very long because at that moment, her eyes snapped forward 
and bored directly into mine.  All my thoughts of arousal left me at that moment to be 
replaced by only one word racing through my mind again and again.

Busted.

Two more words came after that.

Oh Shit.

At this point you'd probably be thinking that most normal people would flush with 
embarrassment and flee the scene immediately.  I know that's what I would do, or so I 
thought.  Did I?  Nope.  Apparently too much blood had flowed to the wrong head.

Did she?  You'd think she would, wouldn't you?  But the answer is no.  She looked 
directly at me with the same cool, detached gaze she had when she had caught me 
checking out her ass the day before.  Then she continued wiping herself off in her slow, 
deliberate manner.  She seemed totally unconcerned to be naked in front of a strange 
man.

All I could do was watch as the towel traced itself down each arm, across her torso, down 
each leg.  Finally she moved to her totally shaven mound.  The towel did seem to spend 
quite a bit of time there, and when she moved it away, I noticed her clit seemed a little 
larger.  Maybe it was just my imagination, but I was hooked anyway.

At this point, I would love to tell you I boldly stepped out on the balcony, stripped naked 
and did vile, nasty things to her right there.  However, I'd be lying my ass off.  It was all I 
could do not to pass out as I watched, all my attention centred on that sweaty fucking 
towel.  Before I realized it, she had finished.  She quickly gathered up her leotard, hit stop 
on the CD player, and retreated inside her own apartment.

Finally, I regained control of myself.  Well, sort of.  I could move, breathe and sort of 
think.  However, I wasn't going to be going anywhere for a while since I had a huge 
hard-on tenting out my loose workout shorts.  Seriously, I felt like a walking sundial, and 
it took almost twenty minutes for it to go away.  I considered jerking off to relieve the 
pressure, then I thought about all the good it did me the night before, and I realized it 
probably wouldn't help.  Instead I paced around my apartment trying not to knock over 
any furniture and thought about the most unattractive woman I could remember.  For 
some reason, my grade eight English teacher kept coming to mind, making me cringe.  

Eventually, my erection went down, and I decided to head to the gym before my neighbor 
decided to call the police on me for peeping.  I ran down the stairs rather than use the 
elevator.  I had a little nervous energy to burn off.

I stayed down in the gym far later than I needed to.  I decided to spend extra time on the 
treadmill after my weight session, so I was gasping for air by the time I was finished.  I 
skipped the hot tub, and decided to quietly return to my apartment.  I was hoping to sneak 
in unnoticed.

I kept it quiet, and didn't see any signs of my neighbor.  I even stuck my head out on the 
balcony, but her door was closed and locked, the curtains drawn.  I figured she had 
probably left for the evening, and I was finally able to relax a bit.  I remembered being 
hungry before all the craziness had started, and now it was early evening.  I was starving.

I decided on something a little more substantial than a bowl of pasta, and set about 
digging through the fridge.  After a little hunting I had the makings of a nice omelet.  I set 
to work, humming to myself, happy not to have been arrested for being a pervert.  It's 
amazing how focussing on a simple task like making yourself dinner can take your mind 
off how crazy your life seems to have become.

I rushed the omelet a bit, but it came out okay, and I dug in with gusto.  After the meal, I 
was feeling much better, much more like myself.  I started to think about all that had been 
happening over the last twenty-four hours and asked myself some tough questions.  If it 
sounds a little schizophrenic, it's because it kind of was, actually.  My conscience was 
forcing me to face myself, especially parts I was trying to avoid.  I pictured my 
conscience as that Simon guy from the reality tv show asking me questions in his 
annoying high pitched British voice.

"You've been with women before, so why was your neighbor able to get under your skin 
so quickly?"  I could see his smarmy face curled up in a mocking grin.

"Easy," I thought.  "Not many women are as stunning, and completely uninhibited.  I had 
been with a few girls who were open minded, but nothing compared to what I had seen 
last night.  This girl seemed to have a whole other level of arousal I had never seen 
before."

"Okay, fine.  Why did watching her put clothespins on her nipples excite you so much?" 
he asked bluntly.

"Duh," I thought to myself.  I remembered the strength of her orgasm, the flood of juices 
that came gushing out of her, and how spent she was afterward.  "I was excited by her 
excitement," was the answer.   Hey, I'm actually getting the hang of this, I thought.

Simon started to get testy.  "Alright, then.  If she's so damn exciting, why aren't you over 
there trying to seduce her right now?"

Hmmm.  Had me there.   It took a while, and I didn't want to admit it, but in the end I had 
to. "She's a little intimidating."

Simon raised his eyebrow.  "Intimidating?  Really?  You find her intimidating?"

I sighed in exasperation.  "Yes, I find her a little intimidating.  I mean, not a lot of people 
have her kind of sex drive.  I'm not sure I have that kind of sex drive.  I'd hate to be."

"What?  Left behind?  Found wanting?  Not sufficient to satisfy her?"  My conscience, 
which I pictured as Simon, was merciless.  That's why I kept it locked up most of the 
time.

"Yes, dammit.  All those things," I thought to myself.

"Ah, I see.  Don't you pride yourself on your, ahem, prowess?"

My own conscience was mocking me.  Fuck. "Yes," I answered, "I do."  Truthfully, in 
my 32 years I had done pretty well with the ladies.  I had never found anyone I liked 
enough to marry, but why buy the cow, you know?  I thought about some of the women I 
had been with over the last few years.  There were actually a fair number.  All of them 
were nice in one way or another, but for some reason the relationships never went 
anywhere.  I finally answered, "The sex was good.  In fact, in many cases, it was great."

"Something you take the credit for, yes?" my conscience asked with an evil grin.

"Well, I was there, and I did take part, you know." I responded dryly.

"So it was all you.  Of course it was," he laughed, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"No!  But you know, if the girls are telling you how terrific it was after, and it felt good 
to you." I trailed off.  I was getting more and more defensive with my own conscience. 
What the hell was I doing?

I could hear Simon chuckling to himself.  Finally he said, "The reason you find her 
intimidating is that for once, you are not the one in control.  She only knows about you 
watching her dry herself off, but she doesn't know about the night before.  She also 
doesn't know how obsessed you've become, so she's got you  by the balls and she 
doesn't even know it.  What frightens you is that she doesn't need you, or maybe even 
want you, but you want her.  Badly. You're afraid you'll be inadequate, not up for the 
job, as they say, and you're probably right.  But you're too much of a baby to try and find 
out."

The smug tone annoyed me, but I couldn't argue.  How do you fight with your own 
conscience anyway?  I was forced to admit the truth for what it was.  But that didn't 
mean I had to like it.  Or accept it.

Before I could change my mind, I opened up my door to the balcony.  I strode out onto 
the concrete surface, and noticed that there was indeed a light on at my neighbor's place.  
With my conscience disbelieving, I knocked on the frame of her door.

Nothing.

Shit.  Well, that's that, I surmised, with Simon laughing uproariously at my feeble 
attempt to prove him wrong.  I headed back into my apartment, turned on sports, and 
cranked the volume loud enough that I couldn't listen to Simon even if I wanted to.  It 
worked surprisingly well.

By the end of the game, it was getting late, and I knew that I should be hitting the sheets.  
I was going to have to go to work early to take care of what had been piling up today. I 
switched the television off and the silence was deafening.  The moon was out clearly 
tonight and it was bright, almost full.  I'm sure I had ulterior motives, but I told myself I 
would take in a breath of fresh air (how fresh can it be in the heart of the city?).  I strolled 
out to the balcony and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  I leaned over the edge 
and looked down onto the city streets.  At night, it's beautiful.  All the dirt and grime are 
hidden and the lights glow with a radiance that moves me.  I turned to head back into my 
apartment and to bed.

And stopped dead as I realized my neighbor had returned home.  And her door was open 
once again.

I had to look.  She had drawn the curtains, but I could still peer around the edges.  No one 
at the computer.  I was disappointed, but was about to leave when I heard some motion 
coming from down the hall of her apartment.  I stepped to the side of the doorway so I 
wouldn't be noticed, and I could hear Simon chuckling inside my head.

I took a deep breath, and pushed back the curtain.  She was standing there looking 
amazing in a black bra and crotchless panties, sheer black stockings held up by garters. 
Red lipstick and red nail polish finished off the ensemble.  My eyes flew wide, and she 
stopped dead in her tracks, staring at me.

Words failed me.  I couldn't think of a thing to say.

After a moment, she relaxed and unbelievably, motioned me inside.  I stepped through 
cautiously, not really knowing what to say or do next.

She moved her computer chair over to me and said in a smoky voice, "You can sit there.  
But don't move at all, okay?"

I nodded dumbly, and sat down.  She glanced at a clock on the wall and raced back down 
the hall, returning seconds later with a thick white blanket and a small duffel bag.  She 
spread the white blanket on the floor about four feet away from where I was sitting.  Only 
then did I notice the series of small black cameras that had been positioned to capture 
whatever was happening on the blanket from four or five angles.

She returned down the hall and came out bearing a couple of lights, the kind 
photographers use, putting them around the blanket strategically.  After fiddling with 
them for a minute, she seemed satisfied.

She had set her bag down off the blanket, and typed in a few things to her computer.  
After several keystrokes, a few clicks of the mouse, and an adjustment to the angle of the 
monitor, she moved the keyboard (which was wireless) down to the blanket.  She lay 
herself down and assumed a provocative pose, propped up on one elbow with her legs 
crossed seductively.

She looked at me again.  "Now, I'm about to start the webcast, so no talking or noise, 
okay? Nothing."

I nodded, not sure what else to do.  Even Simon had shut up by now.

She tapped a few more commands, and I noticed one of the webcams started to whirr, 
making a very soft noise.  A few more taps, and the rest were all whirring around as well, 
recording this goddess from every angle.  Once again I was mesmerized by her confident 
sexuality.  Her outfit didn't hurt, either.

She seemed to be waiting for something.  After a moment, whatever she was looking for 
must have happened as she said, "Let's get started."  She reached into her duffel bag, and 
brought out a small, metallic blue penis shaped dildo, and looked into one of the cameras, 
licking her lips in anticipation.

The head of the dildo gently caressed her forehead, down her nose, and into her waiting 
lips.  Beautiful, full red lips that kissed it tenderly on the tip, then opened to gently take 
the latex head inside.  Her cheeks were pulled inward as she applied tender suction to the 
blue tool, and my erection was roaring to life.

She arched her back, showing her incredible body off to great effect before finally 
releasing the dildo from her mouth.  Gently, she let it continue it's downward path, now 
coated with her saliva, and shining brightly under the lights.  The dildo wound its way 
between her breasts, now starting to heave with excitement, and gently circled her navel.  
Her eyes closed in anticipation and she smiled a small, evil grin.

Over the garter belt, the dildo traced it's path until it finally stopped, nestled gently in the 
crevice between her legs.  My eyes were glued to the dildo, and I could almost feel it's 
pain being so close without being able to achieve it's purpose.  Her legs were still crossed 
seductively, but now they began to open, revealing her shaven jewel.  Clearly, she was 
enjoying herself as her lips spread in anticipation.  

First, she circled the emerging head of her clit with the tip of the dildo, coating it with her 
juices.  She started to moan as she pleasured herself, and I wondered if I would be able to 
keep my promise of staying in the chair.  The animalistic urge to jump on her and take 
her every way possible was surging through my body, and it took a real effort of self 
control not to give in.

Her labia were wide open now, and the dildo was coated in juices.  Sure enough, in a 
strong single motion, she pushed the tip inside, moaning at the sensation as she did so.  
The dildo wasn't large, so given her level of arousal, it didn't take much to swallow the 
thing up to it's base.  She pulled it out quickly and began fucking herself hard with the 
little tool, rubbing her clit with her lacquered fingernails at the same time.

I was so absorbed by what was happening, it didn't even occur to me to jerk off.  My 
erection was about to burst through my pants, but I didn't care.

Her juices were flowing freely now, and her moans were becoming rhythmic, guttural 
noises as she took herself to the height of her first orgasm.   Before long, she cried out, 
and a squirt of fluid shot across the room, landing on my leg.  I felt it's searing heat, and 
gathered a droplet on my finger, savoring it's feeling.  More ran out of her steaming cunt 
and soaked the white blanket, but she was far from caring.  She pumped her hips in time 
with the convulsions her orgasm brought her, extending her pleasure.  Eventually, 
however, she came down to earth once more.  A sheen of perspiration covered her body, 
and her chest heaved with the exertion.

She pulled the dildo from her dripping cunt, and unclasped her bra, releasing the pressure 
on her aching breasts.  She held the bra in place for a moment, playing coquettishly to the 
cameras before tossing it behind her head with a flourish, displaying her fabulous tits, 
bruise marks and all.

Slowly she cupped one and pushed the erect nipple up towards her fully extended tongue.  
She flicked it back and forth until it stood stiffly at attention.  After several seconds, she 
released it and began on her other breast, playing to the camera all the while.  When it too 
had achieved the proper form she released it and leaned back on her elbows, showing 
them off proudly.

There was a lot to be proud of, I thought abstractly, still battling my urge to ravish her.

A minute passed, where I sensed she was catching her breath as much as anything, and 
she reached into her bag, pulling out another dildo, this one huge compared to the last 
one.  Easily ten inches long and six inches in circumference at the base, this fuckstick 
would make any man envious. It was black and smooth, and not modeled after a penis, 
but looking more like a police baton than anything, although wider.  It even had a handle 
at the end for a better grip.

My breath caught as I realized what she was going to do with this mammoth thing.  I 
couldn't believe it would fit in her hole, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.  I 
don't think I blinked for the next twenty minutes.

She tried to suck the end of this dildo, but she couldn't fit the end in her mouth.  It was 
too wide, so she contented herself with licking it provocatively, coating it with saliva.  
Her pussy, already aroused from her previous tool was open and ready, but it still amazed 
me that she was going to fuck this thing.

She shifted her hips, flattening the angle of penetration to make it easier.  I noticed her 
biting her lip as she put the huge tool at the entrance to her core.  She couldn't even reach 
the handle, it was so long, so she grabbed the shaft and pushed the tip slowly inside.

One inch.  Her lips were pushed to their limit to accept this invader.  Her legs spread 
wide, and her breathing came in short, tight gasps.  She pushed further.

Two inches.  She had to stop here for a moment and breath deeply.  Her clit was mashed 
against the smooth black surface as she took it in as far as she could.  I could see her 
excitement start to take over after a moment, and she pushed again.

Three inches.  She cried out, pain and pleasure mixing inside of her again.  I knew it was 
a powerful combination, and I guessed she was well on her way.  She pulled the dildo out 
an inch, then back in pumping slowly.  Her syrup was coating the tool, and I could see 
some run down the crack of her ass.  Her clit was red and swollen, receiving continuous 
pressure as she fucked herself with this monster.

Four inches.  A deeper cry, and a quick spasm ran through her body, causing her to 
shudder, and her breath to come in ragged gasps.  Her hand reached for, and finally 
found, the handle at the end of the beast.  She held it in a tight fist, and began to turn the 
cum slicked pole around in a circle as she hammered it in and out.  With the extra 
leverage, she was able to push harder.

Six inches.  Her limit.  She rammed the tool into herself hard and with increasing speed.  
I watched the as her skin tone deepened from almond to a darker brown, and finally, to a 
little pink as her orgasm began to take over her body.  Her toes curled, her knuckles grew 
white as they gripped the big black stick, and the syrup oozed out of her tortured hole.  
Her cries turned to a long scream, and her body stiffened, her back arched off the blanket 
as this mother of all orgasms tore through her.  Several seconds passed before the spasms 
released her from their control.

She fell back to the blanket, slick with sweat and her own juices.  Without her hands 
pushing it into herself, the dildo inched it's own way out, until it fell away with an 
audible slurping noise.  Her eyes had rolled back in her head, and now they were closed.  
Her breathing was still labored, but started to slow.

After a couple of minutes, she licked her lips, the first sign of awareness I had seen since 
her orgasm.  A few more seconds, and she blinked, her eyes re-adjusting to the bright 
lights.  Her color returned to normal, and she stretched slowly, sensually.

Another minute, and she pulled her keyboard towards her.  She began typing quite 
quickly, and it became clear there was another person on the other end of the computer.  I 
started to leave, but she stopped me with a raised finger.

It took several minutes, but she finally finished typing to the other person.  A few more 
keystrokes and the cameras shut themselves down, no longer whirring or recording any 
action.  It seemed like forever, but finally, her attention wasn't taken up by the computer, 
and she turned her gaze in my direction.

Rather than look me directly in the eye as she had earlier in the day, this time she started 
at my feet and worked her way up, appraising everything along the way.  I felt vaguely 
like a piece of meat, but it wasn't in a bad way.  I did get a little nervous when her gaze 
settled on my raging erection, especially after looking at the size of dildo she had just 
pleasured herself with.  A small smile played at the edge of her lips as her gaze made it's 
way up to my tattered beer shirt, then finally, my eyes.

She said simply, "You work out.  Good."

I will remember what happened next for the rest of my life.


NOTE TO READERS:  Thanks to all who have provided feedback, especially KG from 
Texas.  Your questions provided the framework for this chapter. I love any kind of input 
into my writing, it inspires me.  If you have any comments or questions, please send them 
to me at feryk2001@yahoo.com.  Chapter 3 is in development.  Thanks in advance.
