She stepped to the window and looked down the few stories to the street below, peering at it in the way a lion might regard a potential kill from an elevated distance. Thoughts flooded her mind of all the sex that is happening at any one given time in a town the size of Philadelphia. By lifting her gaze, she could see in the distance the silhouette of a certain locally famous statue that, during rain, appears to be urinating...if local legend is to be believed. Already, she could feel the slick wetness forming between her thighs, as her fingers settled on the opera glasses resting on the windowsill. The slightest smile formed at the corners of her mouth as she brought the elegant, antique binoculars to her eyes, and trained the view on 'His' window.
Yes, she thought...one of my favorite times of the day. The young man upon whose window she gazes is known to her only through her sessions of watching him masturbate, as well as entertaining the occasional lover. Both were such a treat to the woman, but if pressed she would have had to admit that her favorite 'watch' is most certainly his late night jerkoff sessions. This boy could really stroke it; sometimes in foul weather, she had noticed that sometimes he would make himself come upwards of five times, the final orgasm always taking so much longer to coax from the tiring organ.
He was laying on his back on the oversized futon, with an impressive hard length of cock arching toward his belly, when she finally found him in her glasses. Slowly he began stroking and touching himself, and she did not hear the sharp gasp of her own breath when he reached down to fondle his own balls. Suddenly the hand retreated, he sat up, his handsome face frowned as he stood and disappeared from view. Frantically she moved her view to the other set of his windows only to find nothing. With a growing anxiety she trained the binoculars back to the bedroom window.
After what seemed an eternity she noticed movement, that he was returning and hopefully to finish what he started, when she noticed something previously unseen by her: another young man who was hurrying to remove his clothing. In moments he was as naked as the first, and the two men were suddenly a tangle of sexuality on the blanket. Hands stroking, tongues seeking, the pair eventually falling into a languid sixty-nine position. She couldn't stand her own excitement, and without being fully aware of it, slipped her free hand to the swollen and wet clitoris who had been making it's presence known with an intense throbbing since right around the time she first sighted him this session.
So hypnotic, this new and unusual event she bore witness to. Her fingers worked rapidly, to soothe the burning wetness. If only, she thought, she could join this lustful coupling...if only. On and on the two men sucked, and fucked, and carried on high while she, in her concrete perch, masturbated herself in a voyeuristic frenzy. Her own cum ran freely from the wet lips of her sex, her hips bucked against her trembling hand. So overpowering was the pleasure that she had to force herself to stop before her knees gave out. What a delicious treat, to find that her favorite subject was bisexual. Until now she had only seen him with a couple of different female partners, but mostly pleasuring himself and that was just fine with her.
