Open Windows

First day at my first job after college and I was walking along the sidewalk during lunch. I stopped in a newsstand and mostly browsed. 'Lesbian Slut Pussy' and 'Exposed Pussy' sat on the shelf right in front of me. It took a moment to even realize what I was looking at. I'd never seen such a magazine. Reaching up, almost afraid to touch it, I flipped a few pages without taking it down. Skin, oh my God, such lovely female skin. I carried both to the cashier and laid them on the counter, upside down, too embarrassed for the man behind me to see what I was buying.

The female cashier turned them over in front of God and the world.

"Oh lady, this one is really hot!" She rubbed a finger over the picture of a naked nipple on the cover like she probably did a real one. "That'll be $14.69. ... ohh wicked amount."

That evening, magazines hidden in a brown paper bag under everything else in my briefcase, I rushed home. As I sat naked in my bed, lights dimmed, I looked at a picture, then I rubbed 2 fingers in my pussy. I don't know why 2, but it always had been that way for me. As I turned the page, I brought my hand up to my mouth and sucked on my fingers like a woman in a picture was doing. Not so bad. Even the smell was nice. I would look, finger, suck, turn the page. Hell, I was a 'grown' woman of 21, and I was sneaking a peek at dirty magazines, what was wrong with me? I was even enjoying it too.

I always kept my magazines and the fact I licked my fingers a secret from everyone. It became my own private thing. In fact, the longer I kept it my secret, the more special, more private, the more of a turn on, it became to me. It wasn't long before I couldn't feel any pleasure, couldn't even have an orgasm, without also tasting myself. I never told anyone. I was mortified that someone would find out and tell others.

Growing up, there had been a paved pathway in our neighborhood behind some of the houses that I would walk along to school. I sometimes wondered what was going on in the bedrooms, but I never let myself be tempted enough to look. Knew I'd get caught too. Looking at one of the magazines filled with people hiding and watching women exposing themselves, I thought back to that path and wondered how often someone might have peeked in those windows.

One morning after I acquired the magazines, much like many other mornings, I walked through the alley behind my house, past the garbage cans and cars. It was still quite dark as I passed behind one house. A few dogs barked. A cat knocked over a can. I heard a woman yell something. I thought it a bit strange they had the windows open for such a cool morning. Couldn't quite make out what she said. Then again. I snuck over to the window and listened.

"You brute, slam that cock in my pussy."

"Babe, you love it don't you?"

"Oh yes darling. You're the best."

Do real people having sex really say things like that? How would I know? Twenty-one and still had not had sex, sex of any kind, with a guy, or a woman even. The curtains were open and I could see them both. I could see everything. Her legs were in the air, he was between them, his bare ass moving up and down. I could even see his cock going in and out of her pussy. This was the first time I'd seen sex happening in real life. This wasn't even a movie, but right there in Technicolor, right in front of me. I put my briefcase down on the ground and watched, my hand under my dress, fingering myself, stopping to taste my fingers, and getting more and more turned on.

I guess I lost track of time and the fact that other people actually might walk along the alley too. There was a bush hiding me. I felt safe.

"Oh Bob, you're going to make me cum. Don't stop. Work that cock. Fuck me big boy. You're huge. Oh here it comes."

The words did a little to excite me, but what I really enjoyed was just watching. I could have been deaf and still been turned on. I had trouble pulling myself away from the window, but I knew if I didn't leave, I'd be late to work. Part of me kept saying screw it, just watch a little longer; but another part told me how I needed to be on time. The later part won today.

Must say that work dragged on so slowly, it felt like the clocks were running about 1/60'th of their normal speed. People would open their mouths and the voices sounded like a 78 RPM record on 45, they just droned on and on. My mind was flooded with thoughts of the morning, leaving no room for anything else.

The alarm went off as usual, but today I had a mission and I was ready. I hoped they would be at it again. Maybe he screwed her at the same time each morning before leaving for work and I could watch. I was so excited. My breakfast didn't taste good at all. I just mushed things up with my fork and pushed the pieces around the plate.

"Something wrong Jane?" My housemate asked as she made her lunch for the day.

"No Cindy. I'm okay. Little nervous about a project due far too soon." I lied, so shoot me! I have 2 dirty magazines in my room and I peeked in someone's window while they fucked, what's a little lie on top of that? A thousand Hail Mary's wouldn't even forgive it. Might as well go for broke now.

Behind that house, same time as yesterday, I tried to make sure it wasn't too obvious what I was doing in case someone saw me, but even the possibility that I'd be seen, even caught, sparked excitement. The reality of that didn't fully sink in of course.

I waited a moment for some sounds before looking in the window.

"You stud, suck my pussy ... lick my clit like I suck your cock."

I peeked. They were laying sideways across the bed today and I could see better than yesterday. Her breasts quivering as her body rocked. Her knees up, feet on the bed, knees spread wide apart. His head was between her legs. He was lapping, licking, and sucking her, just like the pictures in the magazine. My briefcase was on the ground and my hand flying up and down across my mound.

"Yeah baby, right there ... oh fuck, you really know how to suck a woman."

I managed to catch them doing something to each other each day for the rest of the week. It was my own private sex show. I even fantasized that they were fucking just for me.

Then Monday, it happened, the horrors of all horrors. "Hey you!" the voice boomed right behind me. "What do you think you're doing?" A hand now held my shoulder.

The couple stood inside the opened window, bent over, looking at the man and me.

In a soft, sensual voice, she asked "What's going on?"

"She was peeking in your window and doing nasty things. Saw her Friday too. Thought she'd be back. Don't worry, I'm going to call the cops now. She won't bother you anymore."

"Please don't! I won't do it again." I could already see the gallows to hang me, tying the knot was all that was left to do.

The woman held her hands over her chest. "I know her. Bring her around to my front door." I didn't know why she was being nice, she didn't know me at all. Anything was better than being taken to the police station.

The man pulled me by my shoulder.

"I need to get my briefcase!"

"It'll still be there later."

Now with a robe around her, the woman stood in the open doorway as we walked onto the porch. "Thanks mister. I'll talk to her."

As the man walked away, I followed the woman into the house.

"Got to run dear. Catch you this evening. Big meeting in an hour. I'll just make it."

"Bye dear!" The door shut. "Can I get you some orange juice? I'm Amy."

"Jane. Listen, ... I'm so sorry. It was ..."

She cut me off. "Don't think a thing about it. I knew you were watching from the first day. What a turn on it was knowing that. Have not had a better orgasm in a long time."

"You knew?"

"Sugar cakes, I'd seen you walk by. Knew what time you went by everyday, just like clock work. The weather was cool, but I left the window open on purpose to see if maybe you'd hear us, maybe even watch."

"Really?"

Amy leaned against the counter, her robe fell apart revealing her leg, her hand rested on the bare thigh. Her eyes looked and she knew what I was looking at. She moved her leg a little forcing the robe to open completely.

"Look better up close?"

I wanted to say 'Fuck yeah!', but simply said "You bet!" What a chicken I was.

Her hand touched herself, a finger disappeared, the knuckle moved, a hand stroked her breasts under her robe. "Tempting, but I might get in trouble if I keep this up in front of you."

"I'll be late for work."

I didn't see Amy for several weeks, didn't have the courage I guess. Then one evening she was sitting, reading a book, in the backyard as I walked home through the alley.

"Hi Jane! How is work?"

I stood over her, peering down into her cleavage, her book rested in her lap.

"Fine. Got my big project finished."

"Sit if you have time. I was hoping I might see you."

"For a minute."

I stared at her face, her almost visible breasts. She moved her book.

"You're naked!"

"A little. You don't mind do you? At least I have a shirt on."

"What does it feel like?"

"To be naked?"

"Sorry, no, no, to ..." I fumbled for words as she sat in front of me, wearing just a man's white dress shirt which wasn't even buttoned, revealing most everything. "... you know ... have someone kiss you ... your ... clit." I surprised myself at what I'd just said. I felt so bold for asking such a question.

She patiently waited for me to stumble through my thought. "Nice. Some times VERY nice. To me not as nice as when I touch myself though. Then I love to lick my fingers. Oh my God, do I love the way I taste. I don't have an orgasm until I taste myself."

"I can't believe you're saying that. That is exactly the way I feel too. I knew I couldn't be the only one. I felt so abnormal though. I was afraid to tell anyone."

"Honey, what you like to do is just fine. Don't you worry about what others think."

"What about your husband?"

"He thinks it's pretty weird when I finger myself and then lick my fingers. Oh I let him do whatever to me. He doesn't like to kiss my pussy very much. Sometimes I fake an orgasm or two just to let him think he's made my world shake. But after he's asleep and the few drops of cum he puts in me, hate to call it 'shoots' in me, has drained out onto the sheets, or drifted into space, I dip my fingers in nice and deep, scoop up some of my juices, and suck on my fingers until I drift off to sleep in the warm bliss of a 'real' orgasm."

As she talked, her fingers teased her labia, sometimes parting the lips, sometimes flicking her clit with a tip of the finger. All very matter-of-factly, much like some people nervously hold a cigarette, or tap a pencil on the desk. It was as if I wasn't sitting right there in front of her, looking.

"You know ... I did enjoy watching."

"Oh my yes. I did too when I was your age. I'll never forget one of our neighbors. How they could carry on like rabbits. My, my. I watched them often and for the longest time when I did. Always thought all men were like that one. Was I wrong about that."

"Lately I've been picturing what I saw when I'm in bed at night, my hand between my legs. Puts me over the top. Just more for me to lick off my fingers too. Now I can just think of your fingers in your mouth."

Suddenly her face scrunched up a little, she leaned back on one hand, a soft moan escaped from her lips. Her hand came up to her mouth and she licked her fingers.

"So good! Have a little housework I need to do before he comes home. Hope you can stop again ... soon."

Maybe on the way home from work. We don't have to tell anyone do we?"

"Not even Bob."

"I love secrets. Makes things seem so much more special."

"Yes Jane. Yes they do."

Now, so many years later, I still think about Amy. Don't know what happened to her. Wonder if she is still with Bob? They moved away a few months after that talk with her in the backyard. Oh, sure, I managed to watch them in bed a few more time, even talked with her in the backyard some. It never got tiring for me.

After that, I kept my eyes and ears open for a peek of some action through an open window. Once in a while I would get lucky, not often enough. Too many air conditioners. Everyone keeps their windows shut these days. Too bad.

I found that spreading my legs, revealing some upper thigh, my pussy, even fingering myself in front of strangers would satisfy some of the same needs as peeking in windows. The risk of getting caught was maybe greater, that part of the excitement higher. Overall, maybe just as good. At times I was like a junky after a fix when I would finish a flash. During it, my heart would pound so hard that I wondered if anyone could see my chest flailing in and out.

Why is it that the first time, maybe the most recent time too, are always the best? I'll never forget that first time I flashed someone. In fact not long, maybe a year, after the last time I saw Amy. I was sitting in a cafeteria, having a hamburger steak and mashed potatoes, not really very good. Even though I remember the experience, I don't remember what made me do it.

My legs were parted some, ankles crossed, knees bowed out. Maybe I was just being comfortable, not thinking about how I was sitting. I looked up and a guy was watching. I didn't know him, had never seen him, wasn't even interested in meeting him. I felt flush, my heart was beating quickly just knowing he was looking under my dress. I didn't have any panties on, rarely wore any. I sat there for a moment, then spread my knees more. Just a test to see if he was really watching me or just looking at something behind me. As my legs moved apart, he sat up more. He was definitely looking under my dress. I uncrossed my ankles and placed my feet about as far apart as my knees. I could tell he was paying more attention now. My hand slid up my thigh. His hand rested on his pants. My hand touched my pussy. His hand rubbed his crotch. We began to masturbate in sync to each other. I bit down on my fingers. His hand slid into his pants. I pulled the fingers from my pussy and licked them. He pulled his hand out of his pants and licked his fingers, then left.

I sat there, not knowing if my legs would hold me just yet. This was the most turned on I'd been in a long time, at least the few months since the last time I'd watched through a bedroom window. I actually saw this guy a few more times in the cafeteria. Each time we would do the same thing. I'm glad he never talked to me though, it would have ruined everything. He had too remain a stranger.

Over the years, I would do the same thing at least once a week, some weeks everyday. Sometimes to a man, sometimes a woman. Didn't make much difference to me. All the mattered was that a stranger was watching, looking up my dress, looking at my pussy, watching me masturbate. There were times the urge wasn't as strong, almost fading to zero for a few weeks, then returning with a hard rush. Each time, the need being greater. Sometimes I just couldn't control myself. I wondered if I should get help, but knew there was nothing that could replace these feelings I had. If I lost them, I'd be nothing, empty. That was even more terrifying than being caught.

Once I flashed a guy and it turned out to be an undercover cop. That was real scary. Managed to get off with a simple blow job, but he did threaten me with jail, court, the whole nine yards. Real scary. I laid low for a while after that. But I was so horny in a few weeks, I just had to do it again. I needed my fix.

Don't know why exactly, but I never found a partner that could satisfy me no matter how we exposed ourselves to each other. We would take turns hiding in the closet, behind bushes in the park, sitting at different tables in restaurants, nothing did it for me like with a stranger. Regular sex, what the hell was that? I tried it 'normal' ways with both men and women. Nothing, absolutely nothing, at all happened for me, not even a tiny orgasm.

So, I have always lived alone since I could afford too. Now I'm 42. Masturbating alone, and in front of strangers. I still have a copy of those 2 magazines and keep them by my bed, often flipping through the now very well worn pages, the images of the women kissing each other all over their bodies are burned forever into my mind, remembering ... remembering that day.