Author's comment:
This story has been translated from the German original using DeepL AI. I have tried to fix as many of the small translation errors as possible and improve on the flow. Let me know what you think.
I love to create deep characters and take my time to elaborate on the changes in people over time, what they think and why they do what they do. Feel free to comment, I appreciate all input.
**Cleo**
After a long day of work at the clinic, the longed-for hot shower had rinsed the leaden tiredness from her. For a moment she looked at herself motionless in the mirror. Checking, she pulled up the base of her breast a little. As she often did, she then put her hands under her breasts like little bowls. She liked this sight. Gently she ran her thumbs over the comparatively small nipples, which, as always, immediately hardened.
Water droplets had formed on the tips of her hair and now rolled across her chest and back, leaving wet trails. Quickly she dried her hair a little and carefully wrapped the small towel around her head like a turban.
Despite her 39 years, two early pregnancies and a demanding job, she had "held up quite well," as she had described it somewhat mockingly, but also proudly. Her skin was wonderfully soft and supple, even if her critical eye had recently noticed one or the other blemish. She even found herself quite beautiful most of the time, but knew that her beauty wouldn't last forever - a fact that could unsettle her a bit on bad days.
She wrapped the large towel around her body and knotted it expertly between her breasts. From a small, but all the more expensive jar, she dabbed some lotion onto her fingers and gently massaged the expensive stuff under her eyes. Again she looked at herself in the mirror: at least she would delay the aging process as much as possible through intensive care, sports, sleep and a healthy diet. She sighed, but smiled at the same time, stepped out of the bathroom and into the brightly lit bedroom.
Carelessly she threw the big towel on the bed and picked up the bottle with the body lotion. Placing her left leg on the bed, she generously squeezed lotion onto her thigh and already lost in thought, placed the bottle on the small nightstand. Methodically as always, she first massaged the body milk onto her arms, then slid her hands over her neck and décolleté. Again and again, she briefly dipped her fingers into the small reservoir of lotion on her thigh and massaged it in. Her hands efficiently roamed over breasts and belly to the base of her legs, but without lingering anywhere. As best she could, she contorted and spread lotion over her back. Finally, she mechanically rubbed the remaining body milk onto her feet and legs, up to her buttocks.
When she occasionally had some free time and was in the right mood, she imagined strong, massaging male hands. She would then linger a little longer on individual spots, then lie down on the bed, close her eyes and begin to stroke herself, already quite aroused.
Then she would play a little movie in her head. The back story was mostly identical, but depending on her mood she varied the fantasy. The subsequent erotic part changed, from gentle and tender, to raw, wild and animalistic the next day. Some variations were almost brutal, others romantic or magically transformed. She knew exactly how she would react to each fantasy, how long it would last and how intensely she would feel.
But today she had an appointment, so she would stick to the usual ritual with no extras. Shortly before she finished applying the lotion, she saw something flash in the corner of her eye. She looked calmly at the window before realizing in a split second that she had forgotten to lower the blinds. Just then she could see the curtain on the neighbor's window move slightly and with a leap she jumped away from the bed, stood against the wall, grabbed the crank and turned down the shutter as fast as she could.
The neighbor's house was slightly elevated and from the topmost window one could see directly into her bedroom. She felt her heart beat all the way to her throat and the blush of shame shot up her face. For a moment longer she remained standing like that against the wall, not daring to move. Her breathing was rapid and she thought
*"For God's sake, not the neighbor, of all people."
In this neighborhood, people still greeted each other as they passed - and he greeted in a peculiarly unpleasant way, especially when his wife wasn't around. An older, somewhat shabby guy, whom she had actually suspected for quite some time, for no reason at all, to be a Peeping Tom.
That's why she always had the shutter down in the evening.
Always.
Except today.
*--*
And now he had seen her naked. He of all people.
He had seen how she had rubbed in the lotion, her hands roaming over her body, almost caressing it.
Had he really watched her during her beloved, private ritual?
Fortunately, today was a day without "extras".
Still. So embarrassing.
A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined him watching her, hidden behind his curtain.
How his thick penis had slowly filled with blood. Trembling with arousal and already half-hard, he had stuck a hand down his worn-out workout pants.
