Eyes of the Beholder

By Katie McN  <katie_mcn@earthlink.net> (c) Copyright 2002, Katie McN


I live in a high-rise apartment. No one knows I watch, but I do. I see things, personal things.

Darkness is my friend. I'm naked and sit by my window waiting for a light to shine in the building across the street. My binoculars in one hand and the other hand hides between my legs, exploring my wetness.

I know them all by now. The man who stands naked in front of his window. The woman who undresses as she walks to her bedroom. The couple who pull down the shade and become shadows in a striptease of my imagination.

There are two men who like to have sex with the lights on. There is a teen girl whose boyfriend visits when her parents go out for the evening. I think they'll have sex soon. I want to share her first time. There is a boy who masturbates in his bed. He hides magazines in his room and thinks his mother doesn't know.

My favorite is the woman who lives across from me. She's lived there for a few months. At first she kept her curtains closed. Now she behaves like a lot of people who live far above ground. She doesn't think anyone can look in her windows and she no longer tries to hide.

I watch her change clothes when she comes home from work. She hides cute underwear beneath her work-a-day mufti. She walks around her apartment in her bra and panties. Her legs are long and slender. Her breasts are round and firm. Her ass is a delight. She is naked after her shower and takes time drying her hair and putting on fresh makeup.

She has a guest. I don't like him. They visit. They eat and drink. He kisses her and then they go to her bedroom. She closes the curtains and she's gone.

She is by herself now. She wears a robe and I see flashes of her thigh as she moves from place to place. I see her breasts as the top of her robe opens and closes. She stands in the kitchen doorway and the light silhouettes her body. She wears nothing underneath her robe. She carelessly touches her breast before disappearing into the kitchen.

Her robe is off and she stands naked in her bedroom. She is looking for something - a T-shirt. She slips it on and gets into bed. She reads a book. I can see her beauty and want to be next to her. She puts the book aside.

She moves her hand down her body and the sheet is pushed away. I can see all of her. Her hand continues lower and I know what's coming next. My hand moves in anticipation.

Her other hand pushes the T-shirt up over her breasts. I can see her nipples standing erect and ready for her touch. Her hand moves smoothly over her breasts and she arches her back as passion seems to over take her body. My nipples are hard like hers. My pussy is wet. My fingers glide in and out. Passion is taking control, control over both of us. I can see it , she is overwhelmed, oblivious to everything else.  Her passion is contagious.  Her oblivion becomes my oblivion.  I too am overwhelmed, what she is experiencing, I experience

Both our orgasms last a long time. I feel she's mine. I love her and want to posses her, but I don't know how.

I wait outside her building in the morning and decide to follow her to work. I stand next to her on the bus and touch her when the crowd presses us close together. I can smell her perfume. Her skin is soft. I move closer and feel her ass against my leg. It feels wonderful. She moves away. I get off the bus when she does and follow her into her building. I'm afraid to join her as she gets into the elevator so I leave.

The phone is ringing, ringing, ringing. I have to answer and when I do, someone says, "I know who you are. I know where you live."

"What do you mean?"

"Look out your window. Can you see me?"

"Yes, how did you find me?"

We talk some more. She knows I watch her. She knows I follow her. She knows what I like. I watch her undress and I take my clothes off, too. She touches herself and I explore my own body. She moves closer to the window and masturbates standing so I can see her. We orgasm together. It doesn't take long.

We talk some more and share secrets from our hearts. We say the things lovers say. When she is there, I see no other. When she is there, no one else matters. We are lovers. She does what I ask and I tell her what she does for me. We share our feelings. We offer our bodies for the pleasure of the other. We are no longer furtive or anonymous, we are open, unrestrained.  We are lovers who want to be together and yet we remain apart. We're in love for the first time and the feeling is new and different. The feeling is wonderful.

The End 


Tell me what you think about my story!

Katie McN <katie_mcn@earthlink.com>

Read more of my stories at my website

www.asstr.org\~Katie_McN\


