The first time I saw my neighbor's tits was purely by accident. She was changing her clothes in her room and had whipped off her top. I was making up the bed in my spare bedroom. I had caught her movement out of the corner of my eye. It was a momentary glimpse of bare tits. Then, she saw me. We both startled. For a brief moment, we looked at each other awkwardly. I quickly smiled and gave her a thumbs up. That seemed to help. She actually smiled back, covered herself with a folded arm and closed the curtains.
Our houses are so close together that I can hear her music. I've never met her. They moved into the house a couple of months ago. I met her husband once, briefly, when a garden watering line broke and was flooding my yard. He was nice. I think he was her husband anyways. We didn't chat much.
She is a beautiful dark haired, middle eastern looking woman.
After that day, I found myself going back into the spare bedroom more than usual to see if I might get another glimpse of her. She was gorgeous. Those tits were perfect. Really, I just wanted to see her again.
I looked to see if she did anything to change the window treatment or did anything differently. I moved some plants to the window in order to give myself an excuse to be at the window regularly.
Interestingly, about two weeks later there was a potted plant placed on her open windowsill. I had not seen her, but I took this as a positive development. I was thrilled!
Past the curtains, I could see just the back of her head working at her computer most days. She must work from home. I think the room is her office and not a bedroom. I once saw her husband working on a laptop in another window off the front of the house. Her window is about two feet higher than the window in my spare bedroom and separated by about 10 feet between our two houses. Neither of our windows is visible from the street, nor from below, nor from any other window in either home. The arrangement provides a discreet line of communication between the two windows.
Then, one afternoon, I was watering my begonias when I saw her step up to water her plant, wearing a button-down silk blouse fully unbuttoned and untucked and yellow yoga pants. I could just make out the edges of her partially exposed breasts. She acted like she didn't see me as she went about the watering with a large kitchen glass. She went back in to fill it up and still she didn't look in my direction.
Surely, she knew I was there. I can't imagine that she would ever step up to that window again and not think of the accidental show that she had given me before. To step up again now fully unbuttoned and exposing her bare cleavage to the waist was another positive development. This flirt show was on bigtime! I was over the moon!
I would that say she is about 36, slender, beautiful olive skin and luxurious long, thick, dark, shiny, hair that plays down over her shoulders. Her breasts proportional to her frame. Her nipples pointed slightly upwards, dark little cones instead of prominent nipples. She was lithe and smooth, her movements slow and deliberate.
I switched to reveal more skin too. I wore no T-shirt, going bare chested and also removed my underwear and wore just my sweatpants shorts while watering. The problem was that my timing was off from her watering schedule, and I had not seen her in two or three weeks. Then, one day, walking the hall, past the spare bedroom, I caught sight of her.
I raced to change into my old sweatpants shorts, like a kid racing to change into a swimsuit to get to a swimming pool of cousins. I took off my shirt and proceeded to the window. This time, it was I who acted as if I did not see her. I did everything I could to not look up. Finally, when I was almost done, I glanced up to find her looking directly down at my cock. She was in the same unbuttoned blouse and this time she was wearing only panties. A pair of small white sexy panties. Then our eyes locked. After what must have been only a second, she stepped backwards into her room; but she did not move to close the curtain. If she was watching from the dark recesses of her room, I could not tell. If she was watching, she could clearly see my cock punching at the front of my sweatpants. I stripped down and continued with the plants for a couple of minutes, watering naked, possibly for no one, and I then moved on.
After that, I repotted one of the begonias to a bigger pot. I chose a pot that I found at the hardware store with a heart shape painted on it. I then used a magic marker to make a pierced heart, like a Valentine's heart. It was just two weeks before Valentine's Day. It seemed appropriate. I set the pot on the sill and hoped she got the message. In Italy, Valentine's Day is known as La Festa Degli Innamorati. If she is foreign, the message would be lost.
About a week later I saw her again. This time she was completely topless, wearing just panties. She looked like art framed in a window. Gorgeous, beautiful woman standing there. Delicious looking tits.
Again, she ignored my presence just feet away. Although I could not see much, I could see a dark-haired pussy was in those white panties. This time she lingered a full minute at least, presenting herself to me. She leaned forward in my direction with her tits. Her nipples were dark and different than I was accustomed to. She picked at some leaves and adjusted her pots. I was so enthralled I grabbed my cock through my shorts. And then she was gone.
It was then that I noticed she had drawn a heart on her pot too. That in itself turned me on so much, that I had to jerk off after this encounter.
I didn't see her for a while after that. I looked for her on Valentine's Day, but nothing. I was pretty busy with things myself those weeks, but I kept an eye out. I noted that she had turned her pot again, so that the heart was no longer showing. Maybe our thing had come to an end.
Then, one day an election volunteer came to my house and told me about a community gathering on a neighbors terrace to promote a city council member for reelection who lived in the neighborhood. I ended up going to the evening gathering not far from my home. There was a printed agenda provided on arrival - in Italian. It involved some social time before and after a community outreach talk by the speaker regarding current election issues. By chance, I my window muse there too! And, it appeared that she had come alone. My heart leapt!
There were only about 30 or so people present, so everyone met everyone eventually. I stepped forward and introduced myself to her in Italian, but then switched to English.
"I'm James." I said in English, smiling. I didn't offer to shake hands. It did not seem appropriate, instead bowing my head in her direction. I waited for her response. When it registered who I was, she flushed, briefly. That was the only indication that she had recognized me.
"Hello James, I'm Petra. Nice to meet you." She returned, in perfect English, cute voice and accent.
"Hi Petra, nice to meet you too." I played it as though I had never seen her before.
I raised my glass a bit as to make a statement. "Please forgive me if I don't remember your name later. I have a terrible memory for names, numbers, and directions. But I do remember faces." I smiled broadly and looked her briefly in the eye to register if she was getting my message.
She did, clearly. She laughed a little. She had a beautiful smile. I could see her relax. I saw her chest subside as she exhaled freely.
Over the next minutes of the social time, she sipped at her glass of wine with me and smiled genuinely and did not move to exit the conversation. In fact, she went on to ask me about how long I had lived in the Italy, if I supported the candidate, if I knew anything about the election issues on the ballot. I kept the conversation on point. I didn't probe into her life with even one question. To any other observer, it was polite chat between two newly introduced neighbors.
