Previously On...
Ch. 1 - Thursday night, my new roommate Charlie decided to have a casual masturbation session on the couch while I sat there...
Ch. 2 - The next morning, Charlie tells a story about an incident at work, one that's... hotter than expected...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Same day, a few hours later. Back to my game...
My game wasn't particularly loud but it was loud enough that I was a little startled when Charlie emerged from her room (her door being nearest to the couch, so I saw her suddenly appear in my periphery). She was on the phone already and still wearing the same loose outfit as before, which from my seated angle meant I could ever so slightly see up her shirt for a quick second when she passed by. I wasn't staring, but, I can't say I didn't notice.
I don't remember what she was talking about and most of her conversation was responsive for a while, other than one long moment where she was retelling the same story she told me, which from the one or two times my game was quiet enough to overhear, it was just about the same.
I don't remember how long I was able to mind my own business but, being real, I held out with ease until sign of what would become my new normal. Let me explain, when Charlie said she was sex positive, with the previous night as any indicator, it felt like anything could happen, but it turned out that the line about 'casual nudity' and 'being able to do what she wants, etc' was the real gold nugget.
A few minutes into her softly pacing around the open-concept living room/kitchen layout of my apartment, she'd stepped into view, fidgeting with the collection of plants that sat by the far window. On a higher, harder to reach hanging plant, she reached up, revealing the soft underside of her breast. This happened a few times in a row as she pulled dead petals off a flowering bush. She was sideways facing to me, so it was unfortunately easy to train my eyes at her midsection and wait for another slip of which there were many.
It felt wrong, and it probably
was
wrong, to witness her like that; probably why voyeur itself often lands in the subsections of adult websites. There's no consent, which for me had never been the pleasure. I always hoped or built in my mind when I could that there was some knowledge and agreement from the viewee but, beyond my arousal, I knew it likely wasn't the case. And so voyeur stayed on the computer screen where it felt safer and less "stalkerish" but this... this was happening in my own house. Also, the night before fucked me up. I'd been trying to figure out the "rules" if there even were any.
I watched as a few more times, her shirt rose up her breast, uncovering the rose-pink line of her areola then fell again as she shifted. My breathing shifted right along with her. I felt that sinking 'this isn't happening' feeling in my chest and stomach, I felt sweat start to form on my brow. This was nothing like the incident on the couch, but it still triggered a rush within me. It felt naughty to see what seemed in itself 'not naughty'. But I couldn't stop watching. Despite my game, my eyes were fixed. That was, until...
Until she finished plucking at the plant and she turned, leaning her back against the windowsill, her one hand still pressing the phone to her ear, the other in the air, her using one nail to pry dirt from underneath another. She looked downward, I looked away, back at my screen, but still with her in my periphery. The voyeur was over, there was nothing to see, no need to listen in, just-
Where is her hand going???
After her little moment of self-grooming, her hand went to her shirt, presumably to adjust her crop top down as far as the fabric could go, but she didn't do that. With her fingers, she gripped the hem of her top and flipped it up, instantly exposing the entirety of her left breast. I gulped then realized my eyes were laser-focused on her chest, unaware of her gaze.
Shit, did she see me staring?
I scanned my eyes upwards to see her face as I forced my view back to my screen. On the way, I looked and she wasn't looking at me at all. She was looking the other way entirely.
I don't think she saw me.
But now to contend with the fact that her breast was hanging out, and for what reason? I gave it a second, staying focused on my game, trying not to reveal that I was aware of her actions, but then I looked back at her and her hand was holding and she was massaging and her nipple was hardening, and... it was happening again.
Holy fuck!!
I felt every fiber of my body tense, as if it were fighting off the virus of this arousal. I didn't want to cave to the pressure of it. I kept tricking myself into thinking it wasn't even happening. She simply stood there, leaning, staring off, massaging her chest, and
talking on the phone!!??
I'd almost forgotten that she was on the phone this whole time. Who was she talking to? What were they talking about? Was it someone with some sexual chemistry? Was it somehow stimulating?
Almost unconsciously I paused the game, listening through my headphones as I heard "uh-huh. Of course he did, he's a prick." Before she started listening to her caller again, all while kneading her soft, supple breast. There was no sign of any vocal shift that would say to me she was turned on. Nothing in the little bit of context clue to say it was a sexual conversation.
Was it not? Was she just doing this?
I paid a little more attention, as she continued to hold herself, as she gave witness to every feature of her breast in broad daylight, clearly in my line of sight. Each time I inhaled, I felt it deep in the well of my stomach. This couldn't be happening in... real life. Soon though, she moved, stepping away from the window and crossing in between the TV and me, still holding her chest, but passing quickly, I presume out of courtesy. Which means this wasn't necessarily mindless in the sense that she knew I was there. Was it possible she wanted me to see? No, she wanted to own her own space. That's what she said earlier. It didn't matter that I was there. I was irrelevant. And somehow, that was hotter than any other meaning I could make up in my mind.
It took everything in my strength not to follow her with my eyes as she went back to the kitchen area behind me. So the next time I
saw
her was about 10 or 15 minutes later when she brought a snack and leaned against the back of the couch.
She engaged me, tapping my shoulder until I looked over, mouthing the words "you want?" as she offered me a little cut of cheese sandwiched between Ritz crackers. I smiled and took it, then saw past her hand as, still, her nipple hung out past the line of her shirt. I could have choked I gulped so hard. The greatest pain was looking away, wishing so badly I could have been invisible and kept looking without alerting her to what I saw, which clearly looked to be accidental. I took the cracker and swung back to my game, upset at what I could no longer see.
But it didn't take long before there was another opportunity to have her in my line of sight. She seemed to grab a few more cracker sandwiches for herself before crossing my path again quickly and then landing on the far end of the couch, this time huddled up against the big pillow, her feet drawn in as her legs bent, her knees pressed against her chest. She held herself in that somewhat fetal, self-cuddled position for a while, finishing the last of her snack.
The problem this time was that unlike earlier, she could very much see my game being played on the big screen, so I couldn't exactly stop and stare or let my eyes even drift too hard in her direction in case she realized I was watching her more than my game. But I stole glances, maybe hopeful I'd see something, or just out of sheer fascination with her. It was mostly nothing additional or revealing but eventually, one of these glances proved a return to this strange casual/sexual dance she was doing.
At one point when I looked over for a second, first scanning her face to see the direction of her gaze, which was looking off into the kitchen area, then I let my eyes fall down over her body when I saw that her free hand had moved from hugging her legs to her chest and was now playing with the fabric of her shorts.
From what I could see, there wasn't much to her actions, nothing blatantly sexual, but as short as her pants were, it was revealing. Dark curls of unshaven hair crept out down the first few inches of her exposed thigh. Tracing upwards, her fingers clung to the fabric edge, tossing it from side to side, thusly half the time, exposing almost all of her thick, hairy bush, and a peek at the pink of her lips.
