Pearl was masturbating again. I'd watched her do it so many times that I knew from the way her fingers moved that she was close to an orgasm.
I had a lot of pictures of her on that towel draped lounge chair— diddling herself as her husband did yard work around her. Pearl didn't seem to care he was there, even making him stop to fetch water or something from the house. Once he brought her out a vibrator. I thought he acted more like a servant...or a slave than a husband.
I also had a lot of pictures of her fucking her big black boyfriend, so many in fact that I didn't take anymore. I just watched now, but my camera was always ready for something new.
Her face grimaced; her body stretched; her back arched; she opened her mouth—and she came. I was holding my binoculars, jacking off and close to coming as she finished, then relaxed back into her chair with her eyes closed. That sweet feeling in my nuts was beginning to swirl when Pearl's breathing slowed and she sighed, then stared up dreamily in my direction. My heart, and my hand, stopped when I saw a look of awareness creep across her face as she noticed two points of light in the shadow of my garage dormer.
I realized what had happened and pulled back, losing my erection, but it was too late. She sat up, her eyes squinting to slits, then jumped out of her chair and quickly walked to her house. I put my limp dick in my pants and went down to the garage and into my front room, not sure what to do. Soon there was angry pounding on my door.
"You were watching me! You pervert!" The sexy young woman standing in front of me, the one I'd watched secretly from my studio and jacked off over, was smaller in person. She had blue eyes—angry blue eyes—that made me feel like a dirty schoolboy caught by his teacher. I shrunk, thoroughly intimidated, and all the more so when I realized that she was aware of it.
"Is your wife here? Does she know that you spy on me....you fucking pervert!"
My wife? No, Bessie wasn't here, we went our separate ways these days. Pearl wouldn't be interested about our relationship, about how years ago I would hide and watch her with those young rodeo cowboys. I saw how she lusted at their tight, bulging jeans, their big belt buckles; their youth. Then the car accident and the operations and Bessie wasn't the same again. Something happened inside and she lost interest....in everything.
Bessie did a lot of volunteer work now, while I on the other hand spent a lot of time watching and taking pictures from my attic of my young neighbor. And jacking off.
Pearl demanded to see where I "spied on her," so I led her to the small room filled with my stained glass projects. She went to the tiny window that looked down into her yard, "So, this is your fantasy land, you filthy old pervert...." then she saw my camera with the long fat lens laying on my work table. "You have pictures too? Show me! Show me those fucking pictures!"
I thought of her husband, how he must have felt as he brought her a sex toy, and pulled the manilla envelope from a drawer. As Pearl studied the images I thought I noticed a small change in her face: it was still red, but not so much from anger. Her voice dropped as she pointed to a picture of the black guy. Pearl said that 'Simon' was her boss. He'd set her up on a phony charge of embezzlement and was now blackmailing her for her pussy.
Pearl said she would have sucked his dick anyway, then picked up one with his tongue in her cunt and put it on the table along side one with his black cock thrust in her to his balls.
Her left hand had slipped under her short cotton skirt and she was now shamelessly fingering herself. She looked up at me, smiled, and said, "You fantasize about me, don't you mister Foster? Tell me....tell me about it." Then I was that little school boy, confessing about how I dreamed of her sucking my cock through a knot hole in our fence.
Pearl knew she was in control. She saw the saucer on the table next to my camera, the one obviously crusted with my sperm, picked it up and told me to unzip my pants. "You watched me, now I'm going to watch you. Get your cock out." She held it under my stiffening prick and it was one time I had no trouble getting hard. It only took a few strokes until I spurted another layer over the dish. Pearl laughed and said she wouldn't have to be at that 'knot hole' very long.
Pearl liked the idea of sucking cock through a hole in the fence, even mine. It sounded perverse, especially if it was right after Simon had left. I learned that Pearl was perverse—very perverse.
Pearl took out another picture, my favorite, and put it along side the others. The one of her husband eating her pussy after she'd been fucked all afternoon by Simon. My cock was shrinking in my hand when she took the finger from her pussy and dipped it into what I my cock had squirted in the saucer. Then that finger slipped between my lips, hooking me like a fish, and pulled me unresisting to my knees. Pearl said I was going to do something for her then sat on the table and pulled up her short dress.
She kicked off her panties, raised and spread her legs, and I was looking at those pink folds covering the hole where Simon's tongue had been; the hole his thick cock had filled; the hole her husband had unknowingly sucked Simon's seed out of. I was more than ready and willing to go where the others had. But Pearl had something else in mind.