Espied Pt 03

Part III

Several days passed, there had been another meeting of the photography club and, also, a weekend at a bird reserve with her camera and binoculars. Sal had even swum in the sea from the adjoining beach. It had been very much a family beach, but she had wondered what she would have thought had it been one of those naturist beaches. Had she not been with her photographer friends, and it been such a beach, might she have dared to swim naked? Would she have dared, knowing she knew no-one and everybody else on the beach was naked to join them. Possibly, just possibly. The idea excited her.

One of the ladies, Mrs Riley again, had even said as Sal had come back from the sea dripping with salt water, "Perhaps you should model for us, dear, you do have a nice figure." How Sal had blushed, which had made Mrs Riley smile.

It was now evening, the evening of what had been a very hot day. Sal had the French windows open but there was not a breath of wind. It really was very hot. Unnaturally so for England. Sal fanned herself as she stood just outside. She had turned the lights out and was looking up at the stars. Even her light cotton dress seemed to stick to her in the heat.

Why not? Why not indeed? It was but a matter of moments to slip the dress over her head, unclasp her brassiere and slide her panties down leaving Sal completely unclothed in the dark. She had walked down her garden naked in the day, had even a couple of days before set a blanket out and sunbathed a little naked, thinking a little of that imagined naturist beach and a naked swim, but not been out and about after dark naked.

Wonderfully free but so not Sal - at least not the Sal of a few weeks before. It excited her the private nudity away from her bedroom and bathroom.

Sal had earlier been thinking of the photographs, taken on her balcony, of herself in dappled shade, thinking of how interesting it would be to take similar ones not in the almost claustrophobic balcony but out in the open in some forest glade with a similar dappled shade. Should she, perhaps, plan a walk in the countryside to see if she could find such a place and, even then, would she set up her camera and dare to take her clothes off? Might she even excite herself, make her nipples erect, perhaps take photographs with the sun behind her and her legs apart and see if she could catch a sheen of moisture on the curls and hanging flesh between her legs, maybe even some perfect drop or pearl of moisture just there and glistening in the sunlight. They would be rather more 'accidental' photographs than intentional. She would have to use the remote and would not be composing like she would if photographing a model.

Unsurprisingly her thoughts drifted from a girl model to her neighbour, imagining photographing him naked in the wood. perhaps asking him to erect so she could photograph him like that and then catch that so desired drop of moisture not on vaginal lips or clitoral hood but at the end of the bulb of his penis. The thought made her shiver.

The thought of her neighbour's erect penis also came to her in the dark of her garden. She had looked again, several times, from her balcony but not seen him. Perhaps he had been away.

It was good to be out. She walked down her garden and stood with her back against the wall looking back at her house. Sal could not see very much at all as the moon was not up. A faint reflection of light suggested a window was lit in her neighbour's house. She smiled at the thought of going into his garden and peeking through his window at him in the dark. Walking naked out of her garden door and then through his gate into his garden. It was not really something she would dare do. Dares were not Sal!

Yet, she so liked the idea of being naked in a wood and photographing herself. Naked beyond the safe confines of her home and garden.

It was not much of a dare, really, to open the door in the wall and stand there naked at the threshold of the world beyond her garden, the old green farm track. It was dark there, dark as in her garden, a man could have walked along the track and not seen her. Unless he had a torch that was. It gave Sal an unexpected thrill - the idea of the sudden stab of the torch light both blinding her and exposing her to the unseen man's gaze. He would be perhaps just a voice, invisible to her as he stared at her nakedness. What would he say? Would he say anything, would she say anything? Any move towards her and she could be back through her door and it slammed and bolted behind her. A safe exposure to an unseen man!

It was a fantasy, a night dream, but it captivated Sal as she stood there in the dark of her doorway imagining the beam of light illuminating her. Perhaps the commonplace of a 'Good evening,' perhaps, even, the faint sound of a zip and the realisation that in the dark the man had brought out his penis. That feet from her there was an exposed male organ in all its rugged firmness. Perhaps then the torchlight wavering a little, the result of the movement of the man's other hand, the one not holding the torch, upon his erection.

In the dark of the garden, Sal's finger went to her sex, pushed into the curls and slid down the valley and touched her clitoris. Would she have dared do that whilst the man watched or, instead, stood transfixed by the wavering light and awaiting the sound of pattering, the little sounds of liquid droplets falling to the ground as the man's orgasm came? Would perhaps at the last moment the man turn the torch on himself, turned it so the pool of light fell just on his exposed penis and working hand so that she saw first its hardness and then its swollen head shooting white, just as she had watched her neighbour, and then heard the sound of semen falling to the ground, surprisingly loud in the stillness of the night?

Perhaps a whispered. 'Thank you,' and then the man walking on leaving Sal in the darkness knowing nothing of the man but his voice. She would not know who he was, but he would recognise her if he saw her in the street. She would not know if a man in the supermarket or post office looking at her was the man who had seen so much in the dark.

Sal stepped out into the lane and stood beyond her garden. She even took a few steps but could not go any further. Instead she scurried back through her door and closed it. She could not do it. Could not walk more than a few steps like that. Exciting though it had been. Again, she leant against her wall and touched herself. She was quite wet and excited. She had enjoyed daring herself beyond her wall. She wanted to try again.

The second time she had gone back to her house and pulled her dress over herself. Not naked but without underwear. She felt safer opening the door and stepping through, safer with a thin cotton dress upon her but, even so, with absolutely nothing underneath. Safe from exposure if a flashing torch came but nonetheless excited by the feel of nothing on under her dress. Sal walked a little way up the track and then returned and stood outside her neighbour's gate. Should she?

It made the faintest of clicks as she opened it. Not so easy walking down a strange garden in almost pitch blackness feeling her way. But exciting. Such a not Sal thing to be doing, so very much something she would not have dreamt of doing weeks before but the light from the house's window beckoned. It would be such a thing to take just a peek through the window if she could and then hurry home. It took quite a nerve to walk towards the window. The curtain was not quite drawn, and light showed on the crazy paving of his patio. The light was bright and like the light of the imagined man's torch, Sal's eyes needed to accustom themselves to the brightness. What Sal saw pleased her... at first.

Her neighbour was there, just as she had hoped, and seated in his arm chair. Moreover, and exactly as she had wanted, he was naked and with his penis sticking upwards in sexual excitement. It was so what Sal wished to see and her hand touched her curls. What a big penis he had! The head was swollen and bulbous with the skin drawn back. He was not touching it, just looking at the television. Sal was not interested in the television but the naked man. It was unlikely anything on the television was going to be half as interesting as a naked, tumescent man and from her angle she could not see the screen in any case.

All of a moment the man stood up from his chair and turned. His nakedness, if anything, even more apparent and his erection so very much there. If anything, seen on the level rather than above from her balcony made what she was seeing more real. A naked man, a naked erect man and Sal just feet apart. As he walked directly towards her at the window the penis, the big penis, bobbed and swayed. For a moment Sal thought she had been espied but he turned again, perhaps towards the kitchen to make himself some coffee or something.

Sal wondered what he had been watching which had had such an effect on him. She edged along the patio away from the window and towards the French doors to see if she could get a view from there. The light was fainter and no curtains obscured the view into the room or through the doorway into where the man had been sitting. She could now see the television and what the man was watching. It shocked her. It was not some hard porn film, not at all, not soft core film either, it was Sal naked in her garden. How? How?

She had not realised he could see her in her garden: still less that he had seen her. How? She knew that his house did not have the same balcony as hers, hidden by wisteria or not. They were not at all of the same design of building. There was no window overlooking her house and garden. He would have known, sometimes at least, she was in her garden naked from the photographs he had seen but how had he taken the video footage? The television was some distance from her, but she could see herself walking in her garden, even doing 'things.' Through the doorway she saw her neighbour return.

Sal needed her camera. She felt a sudden need to record.

Returning from her house, camera over her shoulder Sal looked through her neighbour's French windows. Over the man's naked shoulder, the television and the image of her were clear. Snap. She moved back along the patio for a better view. Snap, snap. Once more she lifted the thin cotton of her dress and touched herself just as the man was now touching his genitalia, moving the skin of his penis and grinning as he stared at the television. Even in his bigger male hand the penis looked 'chunky,' a real handful! Sal wondered what it was like to hold such a thing, still less to have it pushing at one's sex, seeking ingress. Her fingers pushed into herself, up and down making little sloshing sounds.

Sal did not think her tongue was hanging out but certainly she had been moistening her lips as the man ejaculated. There, right in front of her eyes, but not her camera lens, all at once out of the top of his shiny, bulbous knob shot white liquid, perhaps a foot and a half into the air. Sal gasped. She knew she did, so strangely exciting to see a man do that, his most sexual thing. Another spurt, perhaps even a little higher and then a weaker spurt of his semen, raining down upon him.

Male sexual activity seemed so messy! The stuff was on his penis, stomach, in his pubic hair and between his fingers. Sal raised her camera and clicked and then smiled at herself. Her fingers and indeed now the camera's shutter button were not exactly pristine: rather they were gooey with her own wetness. She clicked again.

Back in her own house Sal looked at the photographs she had taken through the window. So strange, she had photographed her neighbour naked looking at photographs, or rather video images of her naked. Her fingers slipped between her thighs and felt her wetness. She had not come in her neighbour's garden, not quite, but she was going to now. Sal was masturbating to a picture of her neighbour masturbating to pictures of her! And it all felt very good. She stared and stared at the photograph of the ejaculation falling upon him. What would that be like? Warm, male rain! Sal came.

Sal awoke, and thoughts of the night before flooded back into her mind. The excitement of seeing her naked neighbour, her daring in going into his garden, the pleasure of her masturbation as she watched him but also the shock of seeing herself on film - knowing he possessed footage of her naked. She got straight out of bed and went down the stairs and into her garden, still in her cotton nightdress. How had he filmed her? There was no window of his house overlooking her garden. The angles and distance did not permit that.

Sal knew she could work it out from camera angle if she looked and she was right. The camera was cunningly concealed in what seemed to be a, presumably, mock burglar alarm box. Not positioned at the front of the house where you would expect. The naughty man! But had she not been equally naughty with first her eyes, then her binoculars, then her camera through the wisteria and last night in his garden?

Did that now mean she could not in future be naked in the privacy of her own garden? Was he even now filming her, was it a continuous filming and recording of everything she did? Sal turned and walked down the garden. Would he see her, if he reviewed the early morning footage, looking up and straight at the camera and know she knew he was filming her? Probably unlikely, he could hardly go through hours and hours of a recording of an empty garden.

Sal stood at the end of her garden leaning back on the old brick wall, feeling its roughness on her bottom and on her back through her nightdress. She edged sideways, away from where she thought her neighbour's camera could see and slipped the nightdress over her head. Lovely to feel the early morning sun fully on her skin. Sal thought back to her bird watching weekend and the visit to the seaside. It had been a busy family beach but further along it had quietened. Sal imagined being there and walking, taking an early morning stroll completely naked, leaving her things on the sand and just walking, bare foot and bare to the world. Lovely to feel the sand between her toes, perhaps walk on that flat wet sand where the surf came and went, feel the sea come and wash over her feet, perhaps to splash her legs and then recede. Lovely to smell the sea air, the ozone and salt, hear the call of the seagulls and just walk and walk. So what if she met the occasional dog walker or early morning stroller? What were they going to say or do?

They would not know her from Adam - or rather Eve - it would not be like being naked with her photography club. Perhaps she might even meet someone else naked and have an exchange of pleasantries about the weather and how good it was to be out - perhaps even mention their nakedness. Perhaps a woman like herself, perhaps a man. Sal felt a thrill at the idea of her being seen naked by a stranger. It was so not her. Yet she could feel the thought making her wet between her legs.

She was not having it. Not having the man next door preventing her walking naked in her own garden. With defiance, she walked down her garden and into her house with not a stitch on and made breakfast.

Another hot evening. Sal left the French windows open to get some air. It was hot. More than hot enough to wear very little or nothing at all. Sal sat at a table with her laptop reviewing photographs, particularly those of the night before. Snaps really, rather than carefully planned photographs, but, in the nature of snaps, some had worked very well. She wished she had caught her neighbour's ejaculation better. It had been impressive, not that Sal knew much about such things. Perhaps men normally spurted even further! The pictures of his messed-up curls and, at first, hard erection and then of it shrinking were not bad at all. What a funny thing men did! Sal's hand stole between her thighs, but did not women get very liquid in their own sexual parts? She smiled, they got very wet even without the addition of the men's own liquid.

She had enjoyed spying on her neighbour and then it came to her that not only were the curtains of her own house not drawn but the French windows were open. Her neighbour could at that very moment be standing outside looking at her as she had done to him, perhaps with his long penis in his hand masturbating as she had done. He could have walked all the way around completely naked, even erect. She could not remember for sure if the door at the bottom was actually locked. If it was, he could not be there, but if it was unlocked he could be. Sal did not look, did not go to see, rather her fingers played the more in her sex. The thought of being seen excited her.

And what if he just walked through the French windows without a word, his big penis pointing in front of him, walked up to her and just ejaculated upon her exposed skin and then walked back out into the night?

Sal had crept into his garden: why not him into hers? Her fingers played at the thought, as she looked at her screen but eventually she could not resist getting up and having a look. A little unnerving stepping out into her garden with the idea he could be there - it could, after all, have been someone else entirely - but there was, of course, no one there.

Her desire to see her neighbour again crept up upon her as the next day progressed. Sal had enjoyed the sight. She had enjoyed seeing him in his garden but close to and through the window rather than at a distance through binoculars or a camera lens. That evening she crept unclothed. It made it that much more exciting. She had ventured a little way beyond her garden door before like that but not so far. It was a little bit of a shock to find her door, contrary to her expectation was not bolted. She must have forgotten to bolt it when she last went out - when she went to her neighbour's garden before. So, he could have been in her garden and she not known!

Slowly Sal moved up his garden, further and further from the safety of her own garden door and house. It was just as before. Did her neighbour make a habit of masturbating when in at that time of night? Something she could regularly watch! It was such a pleasing sight, so good watching her neighbour exercising his big male organ. It would be exciting to see it come again but Sal rather hoped he would stand up again, she liked seeing him like that with his penis sticking out so far in front of him, big and hard - handle like! What would it be like to hold that handle - handle it indeed!

As if sensing and reacting to her thought the man stood. Sal stared at his penis, it was pointing right at her, as if she was staring down the barrel of a gun. She wished she had brought her camera. What a shot that would be if she could focus in upon it. Penis seen end on, the focus so on the little slit at the end, the swollen bulb of the penis. The thought, Sal suspected, would come into the mind of a person viewing the photograph - was it about to fire? It would be rather good to take several photographs, a proper shoot with the aim of catching the moment of ejaculation from an end on angle. A challenge and a not inconsiderable risk of getting semen all over the lens! Could she really capture the thought that it was about to shoot, not merely know that it was but the photograph be full of the idea -- or the promise?

Sal looked up from the penis. She had been absorbed in it, in looking at it, and had not thought why the man was not moving. Had he seen her through the window? She was about to turn tail and run but he seemed merely to have a puzzled expression on his face. Perhaps he was just thinking of something. He moved and turned away. Was it time for coffee?

Slipping sideways Sal peered through the French windows. Unlike the time before, but like hers the night before, the French windows were open. Through she could see the television and once more saw herself in her garden but not just walking around. She was on her back with her legs splayed doing very much what her neighbour had just been doing with his hand. Sal swallowed, the man had footage of herself in the most embarrassing of activities.