The Window Watcher

Author's Note: The story was submitted as part of the

750 Word Project 2023

, where a story's text, exclusive of title and description, is exactly 750 words.

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I observed from my perch. The bedside lamp illuminating her depravity for my insatiable gaze. The interplay of shadows and silhouettes danced against the wall in measured movement. I had come to occupy the unit in the building across from her.

She was on her back. The smoothness of her nakedness bathed by the incandescence. Her hand languidly caressed the underswell of her breasts, as she brought her fingers between the heat of her thighs. The long, smooth digits of her right hand tracing the puffy labial lips that were swollen from desire, and her own teasingly gentle caresses. Light, yet insistent strokes at the proxy of my command. Her index finger penetrated the awaiting moisture, poised for instruction.

"Are you wet?" I interrogated her over the telephone.

"Yes Sir," she groaned.

"Show me," I instructed.

Her legs widened, affording me view of her denuded pussy. Her petalled lips glistening with the moisture of her desire as she held herself open for my evaluating gaze. Her body lifted onto bent arms, and she arched her back, thrusting her chest upwards in the pose of supplication she knew I demanded for her exhibiting form.

She reached for the dildo, teasing the tip of the toy into her satiny, wet folds, struggling to accommodate the toy's girth before inserting the silicone intruder completely within. Her moans of lustful discomfort carried through the telephone.

"Now the anal beads," I instructed as my cock grew to firmness with each stroke of my hand as I watched her perform for me.

She grunted as she pressed the spherical fullness of the first ball against her anus.

"Hold it there." My voice, laced with yearning as I watched her body agonizingly grip the edges of the globe as it attempted to suction the bead within, straining the ring of muscle with its enormity.

She obeyed. She always did.

"Yes Sir," she hissed out, her body tense from the exertion.

She pushed the remaining balls in as excruciatingly slowly as the first, and I watched as her body accepted the anal intruders as if they were crafted solely for the tightness of her canal. Her legs quivered from the effort of impending desire. The hard peaks of her nipples, the darkening of her areolae, the hitching of her chest was visible from across the passage of space that kept us apart corporeally.

"Now the vibrator," I commanded.

She held the small toy as if reluctant to its power in provisioning pleasure, ratcheting the intensity to its fullest, before nestling it against the throbbing nub of her clitoris. Her body undulated to the waves of delight that propelled her to each successive crest before the precipice tauntingly lured her towards the inevitable tumble. Her hips rocked upwards, rotating towards each crescendo. Her legs, ever mindfully spread lewdly for the intensity of my observation.

"Pull a ball out as you climax. Leave the rest of the strand inside." My hand returned to fondling the rigidity of my shaft, the pre-cum slick in its lubrication.

She paused. Reluctance an impediment to my command.

"I've never done that Sir," she keened.

"You will now." I was resolute in my intention.

Her hand continued its press of the whirring toy onto her clitoris, her body inching forwards as it rocked in accompaniment of her building desire. Her moans became more staggered as the spectral tease of my touch pulled her indelibly towards culmination.

"Sir," she stammered out, "may I climax?"

Her legs fluttered, struggling against the pleasure that only my permission would provide. As I signalled my assent, she pulled the handle, and a ball tugged from within, her sphincter grasping frantically against its escape before acquiescing to the unyielding pressure. She quivered as her climax overwhelmed her movements, denying her inclination towards modesty, and revealing her clutching wetness. The mattress shook as her back flexed with tension before easing as she moaned her release, gripping the duvet with her free hand.

Her voice breathless from exertion. "Thank you, Sir."

The bead angled precariously against her plump buttocks. Two fingers reached forward and pushed the bead back into her welcoming canal, as she opened her mouth to the heaviness of the cock presented to her from the figure straddling her face. Her throat thick with flesh from the man who claimed her presence in coupling but did not own her submissive soul.

To him I saluted before receding from my threshold of power.

For an ephemeral moment every evening, she was mine.