He took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew out, the smoke filtering the streetlights into a blooming haze. The hammock drifted lazily from side to side as he stared up at the cloudy sky, basking in the warm summer night. He startled briefly at the swish of the neighbor's balcony door, then relaxed. The street lights didn't reach his backyard, and he didn't think there was much risk of anyone seeing him. Even if there had been, it was worth it to feel the caress of the night air across every inch of his skin.
He could see her now, silhouetted against the lamp in the bedroom. She lit the candles in the glass jars on the railing, and as she leaned down to position them, the flames revealed a brief glimpse of one soft pink nipple before she turned back to the lounge chair, her silk robe hiding her from behind. She sat fiddling with her phone for a moment, and soon the soft sound of a not quite distinguishable song issued from the speakers. She set it down and laid back, an enticing shadow in the velvety darkness. He put out his cigarette, not wanting to draw her attention with the burning ember.
A far cry from the nosy pensioner who had occupied the house previously, the new neighbor was a bit of a mystery. He knew she was an artist from the easel that sat on her front porch, currently covered with a tarp and surrounded by errant paint splashes. He knew her name from the advertisements for the local gallery's upcoming show, and that she kept odd hours. Some days he wouldn't see her at all, and others her light never seemed to go off. She kept to herself, and didn't make a lot of noise, which was really all that mattered for houses that were this close.
That, and she was beautiful. When she got into the zone with her art, she didn't appear to notice anything around her, and he would watch her graceful movements as she brought the canvas to life. He had wondered more than once if her hands were that practiced in other activities. He fantasized about their bodies, covered in paint, creating their own art on one of her tarps.
She slowly ran what he knew from chance encounters with her around town to be a perfectly manicured nail down her neck to one full breast, cupping it, squeezing, as her other hand slid down her stomach. He heard a muffled gasp as her stroking fingers found their target, then a soft moan of pleasure. He grasped his cock, and began to stroke, timing his movements with hers. He imagined her warm, wet pussy riding his cock, her thighs dripping, while he sucked those perfect nipples. Imagined bending her over the balcony railing, pulling her hair back toward him as he slipped into her ass.
