The Hunk Next Door

There it was again—the slight twitch of the curtain in the window of my neighbors' second-floor bathroom. I knew from experience it was the only window of the Weber's two-story house that afforded a view of me as I sunbathed in my parents' back yard.

I'd been noticing that same subtle adjustment of the curtain every Saturday morning since I'd returned home from college at the end of my freshman year four weeks ago. It was now late June and my routine was well established. On Saturday morning—taking advantage of an hour of peace and quiet while my parents were running errands and before the beginning of my shift at a local call center—I would drag my lounge chair to a patch of unfiltered daylight in our secluded back yard, slip off my beach robe and offer my bikini-clad body to the sun.

I'd always suspected I was being watched. Now I knew who was doing the watching.

For the past six years Dan and Jamie Weber had lived next door. When, shortly after moving in, Jamie gave birth to twin girls, it was only natural that I would become their babysitter, a role I would continue to play throughout high school. I knew the Weber house from top to bottom and had occasionally looked out of the same bathroom window that was now claiming my attention.

Earlier that morning I'd seen Jamie drive off in the car with the two girls in the back seat. Since they had not yet returned, that left just one person holding down the fort next door. Dan Weber had to be the guy at the window.

Dan Weber was hot. Even at the tender age of thirteen, when I'd first started taking care of his children, I was not immune to his head-turning good looks. He'd been in his mid-twenties when I first met him and had only gotten better with age. He was a bit of a tease, but with me he was never inappropriate or suggestive. He treated me like what I was: the neighbor girl who watched his kids.

So...what was he doing peeking out the window at me? Had he noticed I'd grown up and filled out, so to speak? The thought made me a little giddy. I'd had my fantasies about him over the years. Was he up there in the bathroom fantasizing about me?

A wicked notion entered my brain. Why don't I give him something to look at?

I sat up, untied the straps of my bikini bra and squeezed a generous amount of tanning oil into my palm. I took my time rubbing it onto my shoulders and arms and even more time massaging it into the twin globes that spilled out the top of my suit. With another squirt, I lubed my torso all the way from my rib cage to the tiny triangle of bathing suit that hid my naughty bits. By the time I reached my legs I was making myself horny just imagining him staring down at me. With languid strokes my hands slid between my thighs. With each upward stroke my fingers grazed my pussy. I wondered if he saw what I was doing and if it was turning him on.

When every square inch of exposed skin was glistening with oil, I dropped the empty tube onto the grass and lay back on the lounge chair, pretending to worship the sun. In truth, though, all I wanted was to see the man behind the curtain. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of me and I rolled onto my side in order to face the window. Ever so casually, I sneaked a peek.

I needn't have been surreptitious. Nobody was there. The curtain had been pushed aside and what I could see of the room was empty.

Talk about disappointment. I'd performed my sexy charade for Dan Weber and he hadn't even been watching. It seemed the virgin next door wasn't as irresistible as she'd fancied.

I sighed and rolled onto my back. Probably just as well he's not interested, I thought. Flirting with a married man, especially the hunk next door, could get messy. Better to forget Dan Weber and concentrate on acquiring a savage tan. I closed my eyes and splayed myself before the god of skin cancer.

Lying there with the sun warming the V between my legs, I discovered that what hadn't aroused my neighbor had sure aroused me. Much as I tried to ignore it, stirrings of below-the-waist desire were disturbing my leisure. My twat was demanding attention.

What's a girl supposed to do with an itch that needs scratching? If she's not a prude and no one is looking, she scratches it.

As luck would have it, I'm not a prude. Since I was all by my lonesome in the back yard, I loosened the strings on the sides of my bikini bottom and slipped my hand inside my suit.

Ah. It was invitingly moist down there, as if the folks at K-Y jelly had set up a production factory in my vagina. I plunged my fingers into the flowing vat and explored my vulva. My clit, firm as a tiny erect penis, rose up to meet my probing digits. Every touch sent shock waves down my legs.

This won't take long, I thought. And I was right. What began as a gentle diddling of my clit quickly progressed to an all-out assault on the perky bud. Within seconds I was panting, my pelvis bucking hard against my hand.

"Oh god," I breathed, as paroxysms of delight swept over me. I had nearly abandoned myself to ultimate pleasure when behind me I heard the sound of a throat-clearing. I snatched my hand from my—um—snatch and swiveled my head to look.

Dan Weber was coming across the lawn toward me. Oddly, he was carrying a plastic measuring cup. Not so oddly, he was bare-chested—yum—and wearing a flimsy pair of knit shower shorts that left little to the imagination—yum yum. Young and innocent as I am, even I can recognize an erection on a guy in shower shorts. Dan's was impressive.

Embarrassed to be caught in the act of self-gratification, I gave my dripping hand a hasty wipe on my suit.

"Don't stop on account of me," Dan said, sounding amused. "I caught your show from the peanut gallery and came down to find a better seat. Just in time, I think." He dropped the measuring cup onto the grass, then pulled a lawn chair close to my lounger and sat facing me.

"What's with the cup?" I said.

"Ah, in case I ran into your folks I was going to borrow some sugar. The measuring cup was my cover."

Eying the sizable tent in his shorts I said, "You'd need more like a mixing bowl to cover that."

He chuckled and gave his hard-on an affectionate caress. "This is all your fault."

We regarded each other with unexpected candor. Clearly our relationship had changed. He was no longer a husband with two small children and I was no longer the babysitter next door.

Giving me a sly look, he said, "Why don't you show me what you were doing?"

I blushed. "You want me to...in front of you?"

"It's your solemn obligation, Katie," he teased. "Do you want me to walk around all day hiding this thing with a mixing bowl?" He spread his legs to better display his mixing bowl-sized problem.

"Can't have that on my conscience," I said with a laugh. "What would you like me to do?"

He thought for a minute. "How about if you unhook your top."

For a split-second I hesitated, wondering what I was getting myself into, then I reached behind my back and released the clasp of my top. With the straps already untied, there was nothing to hold the bra in place. It fell into my lap, and there were my tits, exposed to the outdoors for the first time since they'd grown big enough to be interesting. The nipples were sticking out like bullets.

"Oh yeah," Dan breathed. "Touch 'em, Katie. Touch those sexy knockers."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Embarrassed, I made a self-conscious stab at cupping my breasts, one in each hand.

To me it felt awkward, but it must have worked for Dan because his hand dropped to his crotch. Through the fabric of his shorts I could see the outline of his manhood as he worked his fingers up and down the shaft.

That got me going. As I watched him play with himself, I began to fondle and press my tits together like a porn star. Gathering confidence, I rolled the engorged nipples between my fingers. The sensation sent shock waves into my twat. I moaned.

Dan couldn't take his eyes off me. He'd spread his legs wide and was massaging his crotch for all the world to see.

"I'll bet you're wet," he purred.

"I bet I am," I said.

Dan's smile was seductive. "You should check it out."

I chewed my lip, shy about performing such an intimate act in front of my neighbor.

"You know you want to," he said, his breath coming heavy. His voice was hoarse with desire.

My heart was pounding. I slid my right hand inside my suit and over my pubic mound. My fingers found my slit, slipped inside and were instantly engulfed in a river of naughty juices. I'd never been that wet before. I desperately wanted to touch my clit but I was afraid I'd come right away, so I contented myself with circling the sensitive button. By then I was panting.

"I need to see your cock," I said.

He gave me a wolfish grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

He tugged on his shorts and out popped his magnificent penis. It was standing straight up, the head glistening with precum. I'd never seen a penis in real life before.

"Oh fuck," I said.

"See something you like?" Dan said. He stroked his shaft with one hand and caressed his balls with the other. His breathing had become rough.

I could only nod. The sight of his cock erased the last of my inhibitions. The heat rose in my face. I was so aroused I could no longer postpone the inevitable. I moaned and threw my legs open. My middle finger attacked my clit. Soon I was writhing and humping on the lounger.

I fixed my eyes on Dan.

Aware of my approaching orgasm, he pumped his cock hard, matching his rhythm with mine. We moved at fever pitch, staring into each other's eyes.

I threw my head back. "Oh fuck, I'm coming."

At the same moment, Dan stiffened and groaned. With a fierce thrust of his pelvis, he clutched his rod and shot a stream of cum in the direction of my chair. As he milked rope after rope of cum onto the grass between us, I pressed my fingers into my quivering quim and jolts of pleasure shot through me. Profanity spilled from my mouth; I didn't have the decency to be ashamed.

In fact, nothing we did felt wrong or wicked or shameful. This was unadulterated lust: pure animal drive that stripped away shame and knew only want and need. Even after our passions were spent, there was no embarrassment. With my hand still shoved down the front of my suit and Dan still clutching his withering dick, we sat there grinning at each other like we'd just had a baby.

"Holy crap," I breathed. "That was..."

"Amazing," Dan said.

We were silent for a few moments, simply taking in what had occurred. Then, aware of the passing time, Dan tucked his sex back into his shorts. I hooked my bra and adjusted the skimpy fabric to cover my softening nipples. I raised the back of my chair so I was sitting upright. Aside from the milky cum-trail on the grass and the soaking crotch of my bikini, we looked innocent enough—a young girl sunbathing in the back yard and a neighbor in search of a cup of sugar.

"I should go," Dan said and stood to leave.

I smiled up at him. "Same time next week?"

To my surprise, Dan turned serious. He gave me a rueful look. "This can't happen again, Katie. Today was awesome and I'm not sorry it happened, but things like this have a way of getting out of hand."

I swallowed my disappointment. He was right, of course, although there was a part of me that wouldn't have minded this particular "thing" getting out of hand.

Dan leaned over and ran a tantalizing finger across my cleavage. "Just so you know," he said, "if you come out here next Saturday in your bikini and do even half of what you did today, whatever goes on behind the curtain in that second-floor bathroom is your responsibility."

I cocked my head. "Is that a warning or an invitation?"

He laughed. "I'm not really sure. I'll leave it up to you."

With that he retrieved his measuring cup and departed the way he'd come.