Trish
After my ex-wife and I split up, I lived in a multi-family duplex that I rented for a few years. Eventually I bought a large townhouse in a small, newly built development in my town. Big townhomes -- four bedrooms, with a lower-level garage with an entrance to the house, and a back patio entrance with a sitting area, which became my "man cave."
The mid/main floor has the front door entrance, after you go up half a flight of stairs, and includes the kitchen and a living room and two bedrooms -- one is mine and one serves as my office and exercise room. My master bath has a large sunken tub and a big walk-in shower. The 3rd floor has two more bedrooms and a bath, where my kids live when they stay with me. Then there is a small open loft that looks down into the mid-level living area below.
There are only eight units - four buildings which each have two units. The buildings are separated by a small walkway, just wide enough for a trash can or a bike.
My master bedroom has two big windows that face the front, and one small window that faces the walkway and the building next door. If you are facing my building, my unit is on the left.
The unit across the walkway was owned by a local businessman, who rented it out. My former neighbor across the walkway moved away, and in moved a young single mom with her son, about six years old. I guessed her to be about 40 or so. Short with blonde hair, smallish tits from what I could tell, and a nice round ass that comes from childbirth and motherhood. Very pretty face. Thin lips, not what us men would ball "blow job lips," but she was still very attractive. I considered her pretty hot, about a seven or eight.
I introduced myself one day while we were both out front. Her name is Trish and she works in a local hair and nail salon. I wondered (silently) how she could afford to rent this place.
That's all the pleasantries we exchanged, and over the next few weeks I saw very little of her. It seemed that she had almost exclusive custody of her son because he always seemed to be there, and I never saw any kind of father pick him up or drop him off. They'd leave in the morning, come back in the evening, and that was about it.
As I said, my bedroom has that small window facing the other building, where Trish now lives. I always kept the shade on that window up, and since the day I first moved in, I never once saw the shade on the opposite window open. I had no idea if all of the houses were constructed with the same blueprint, so I figured the room opposite my bedroom was the guest room that no one was using. On occasions when I had company over for fun, my shade might get pulled down by my guest, but more often than not it stayed up. It was almost like the window wasn't there.
If you've read my stories thus far, you know I'm a pretty horny guy. When I'm not getting regular sex, I masturbate frequently, maybe two or three times a week.
At the time of this story, I had been in about a dry spell of several weeks after my last piece of ass, and I'd masturbate about two mornings a week before I got out of bed, and maybe in the afternoon occasionally if I was working from home and feeling in the mood.
One day, late afternoon on a warm Saturday in May, I was doing some yard work in the back, weed wacking and cleaning patio furniture. The yards were small but we did have a small patch of grass and a ground level patio at each unit.
Trish happened to be out back as well, and she called out to me to ask if I could help remove a dead squirrel from her yard.
With a smile I said, "Sure, but what's in it for me?"
She smiled and answered, "How about a cold beer?"
"Sold!" I replied, and I went through the gate in my back fence and through her gate. I removed the squirrel with a shovel and put it in a trash bag and threw it in her trash can.
"Done," I said, "now how about that beer."
She went inside and came out with two cold ones, and we popped the tops and sipped them while we chatted. I asked about her son, and she said that he spent every other weekend with his dad, some deadbeat loser with no job and no car, so she had to drop him off and pick him up.
I learned that she was 41, son was seven, and she had recently split with her husband, now renting this place from her father's best friend at a deep discount until she could afford to buy something.
We finished our beers and she asked, "Do you want to come back later for another one, after I've cleaned up and had dinner?"
"Sure, "I said, "I'd love to, I have no plans tonight. How about around eight o'clock?"
"Perfect," she said. "See you then.
I went home and had a bite to eat, showered, and considered jerking off, but decided to hold it, because, well, you never know. As I walked out of my bathroom, I thought I saw some movement at the window across the walkway, through the small window facing Trish's house. I watched for another minute but all was still.
I slipped into Trish's backyard right about eight, and she was already there pouring wine for herself. I asked for some as well, and we settled in to continue small talk like we had done before.
Talk turned to our houses, and she said, "It's weird how both of our master bedrooms face the walkway, even though you have a left unit and I have a right unit."
I said, "How do you know where my bedroom is?"
Her face became beet red, and she had no idea what to say. I had caught her red-handed admitting that she's been stealing peaks of me, and probably had seen me just half an hour earlier.
I broke the ice by laughing a bit, and said "Well??"
Finally, she admitted, "Sometimes I see you in your bedroom."
"Really?" I questioned. "And what do you see?"
"Just you, laying on your bed sometimes."
"That sounds boring," I answered.
"Well," she said, "that's not always the only thing you're doing."
"Hmmm," I said, "well what else would I be doing?"
She paused and measured her words.
"Touching yourself sometimes."
I chuckled, "You mean like, scratching my leg or something?"
