I've always had a crush on Cynthia. She's perfect in every way. 5'3", long, wavy, red hair, tiny waist, small perky breasts ... I could go on and on. I've only spoken to her in passing, but I'm infatuated nonetheless. I suppose now I should explain that Cynthia is the woman that lives in the building directly across from me in the April Gardens Apartment complex. Our living room windows facing each other
Now I'll go on to say that I've always fantasized about masturbating on my fuzzy green couch with the living room curtains opened so that Cynthia could sneak a peek if she so chose. I've never had the nerve to do it, until yesterday that is ...
That day I came home from work, exhausted at the long day that I had endured. At that point all I wanted was to take a nice, hot shower, put on my PJ's, and relax in my living room with a tall glass of chilled Zinfandel.
I walked through the front door, kicked off my shoes and dropped my purse. On my way to the bedroom I stopped in the kitchen and popped a glass in the freezer to chill. Then I made my way to the bedroom where I pulled off my clothes, laid out my PJ's, tossed on my bathrobe and headed to the bathroom. I hung my bathrobe on the door hook and turned on the water. I adjusted the temperature until it was just perfect and climbed in.
I noticed that the hot water running over my body felt particularly good today as I begun to soap myself down. As I ran my soapy hands over my breasts I noticed my nipples beginning to stiffen. I let out a tiny moan and started slowly running my slippery fingers over them. Then I let my hands wander down over my belly and onto my pubic bone. I stroked myself there for a few moments before continuing on between my legs. I moaned again and reached for the soap. I spread my now engorged labia and began to rub soap around on my clit. I continued for a moment and then decided to stop and make myself wait. After all, self-torture is the best. I quickly finished up my shower and dried off. I tugged on my robe and wandered into the bedroom to put on my silky pajamas. Then I went to the kitchen, filled my chilled glass and padded to the living room; a throbbing ache of arousal clinging between my legs.