The Accidental Voyeur Pt 08

'Oh no,' I said to myself. 'I can't really be seeing..." But I was.

Tessa Allbright, Dan's daughter from next door, was out in the Allbright's garden in the very early summer's morning light; really, really early when no one would sensibly be up and about, standing there in the sunshine. I say 'standing', if her pose could be described as just 'standing.' How do women and girls do that? Just artfully pose without thinking. If it had been a man he would just have just been standing there, solid and graceless, but Tessa... One foot a little in front of the other, its leg thereby coming a hint forward of the other, which meant her hip was not quite level. One hip up above the other -- a charming asymmetry. And she had her hands raised and pulling back, or was that tying up her long and rather striking in the morning light, blond hair. It was in her hands, and she was doing something with it. I could see the swell of her breast in her half turn as she worked at her hair. The breast pulled taut. Was that the outline of a nipple?

Not that Tessa Allbright was naked -- as such. And the 'as such' mattered. She was in a light but long nightdress. Yes, it was open in having a long and low scouped back but otherwise it covered her bare arms, shoulders and went right down to her feet. It might have caught the dew on the grass. It was the sun's fault of course. Rain might have done the same, but without sun or maybe rain it would have been fine and respectable and covering. But as it was -- it was anything but -- it was staggeringly sexual. The sun shone through the material rendering it nigh on transparent, as if Tessa was dressed in the finest transparent gauze with little polka dots all over. I couldn't see her breasts much, or where her thighs joined together at the front, but I could see in perfect curving detail her pink bottom. Perfect cheeks above gorgeous smooth thighs, with the light coming right through the gap between them seeming to highlight and point the way to manly pleasures. A perfect shaft of light. Could I really see wispy hairs there, or was that my imagination and interpretation?

That bottom! You -- or more accurately I -- wanted to smooth my hands over those cheeks, feel their rounded softness beneath the nightdress, perhaps place them over my knee and spank; certainly let my cock spring up between those twin curving buttocks and legs where that shaft of sunlight now shone; and I wanted to feel between those cheeks, into that so interesting crack with the dimples above. Fuck -- I wanted to stick a finger into her hot back passage. Make her wriggle before spanking again. I wanted to stick my fingers in other places. Yes, that other, so special, place. Moreover, I wanted to stick my cock in there. Plant my cock in her crack and push into heat.

And Tessa was not the only one of us naked or giving that appearance. I often rise and like to sit in the early morning sunshine in the privacy of my recessed patio without clothes. Yes, sometimes I sit there with an erection. It does come rather easily in the mornings. Sometimes I stroke. Today I was standing not sitting, and most definitely I had an erection; one that had forcibly thrust itself up before me. It was standing very proud. How could I not be turgid with this vision of the erotic before me? Tessa's almost naked skin against a backdrop of emerald lawn. If she turned, I would see all - young breasts and furry triangle - but if she turned she too would see all. And Tessa is 18 and I am 45.

The thought of seeing her perhaps slowly swing around, that early sunlight moving over her body, so revealed that morning. See her breasts come into full view. Were her nipples pointing? Would her sweet little slit show through her downy curls? Surely they would be springingly soft and not yet thick, a delight for a man to caress and pet. And, of course, there too was her face. So pretty, so innocent. I knew that, had seen her face many, many times: though I knew nothing of her innocence or otherwise. I liked to presume she was virginal. It suited the picture of her I had been granted, motionless out there on her lawn: what I saw and also what I imagined.

I stood staring, imagining, and wondering. Me unmoving. She unmoving. But, again, that worry nagging at me. What if she turned and saw? I took the wise course and retreated -- slipping back inside the house and out of sight.

And when I looked again, she was gone.