The Man in the Gap

The floor to ceiling window on my first floor flat looks across a small communal garden to a fence beyond which there is a golf course. There's a row of trees and bushes covering most of the end of the garden with a gap of six feet or so through which I can see onto the course. It's a pleasant view with the rolling green fairways and in the distance a lake and more trees, poplars and silver birch I think. Running along the other side of the fence on the golf course there's a footpath that's used mostly by ramblers and dog walkers.

One evening just as dusk was falling I stood looking out of the window and a man with a dog appeared in the gap. He looked up the garden and at me. I looked back. He stood staring for a few moments and I moved backwards into the room. I poured myself a glass of white and returned to the window. He was still looking and saw me but made no indication or sign of greeting.

'Sod it,' I thought. 'Why should I move away, it's my view. Isn't it?'

He didn't move and we stared at each other for a few moments until his dog came bounding up and together they moved away from the gap and out of sight.

I didn't think any more about it until three or four days later when it happened again. Once more it was dusk and I was looking out of the window with just a low wattage up lighter on in the far corner of the room from the window so, effectively, the light was behind me but as it was shining upwards it did not reflect onto the window and hamper my view but it probably made me more visible from the outside.

It was eerie. One moment I was looking through the gap across the golf course out to the lake and then the next there he was looking straight at me and I was looking at him. His sudden appearance startled me and made me jump, but I held my position and we stared at each other. He was of average height with brown hair and slim. Rather nondescript looking he did, though have an air of confidence no, more assurance about him though not arrogance or cockiness. How on earth I drew those conclusions at probably thirty yards I don't know? Probably they were more impressions than facts.

I guess we stared at each other for a couple of minutes when again I walked away from the window, across the room and poured a glass of wine. I toyed with switching the uplighter off but for some reason decided to keep it on knowing full well that it lit me up. I took the wine, red this time back to the window. He was still there. He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head slightly to his left, my right. I raised my glass and a slight smile formed on his lips.

When his dog, a golden retriever came ambling up to him a couple of minutes later, he raised his hand in a slight wave and was gone.

I stood there for a few minutes trying to work out what was happening and coming to terms with my feelings that, I was amazed to realise included being mildly aroused.

The next evening, a Friday, I had been for a drink after work and was home later than usual. When I went to the window he was already standing in the gap looking at the house. He nodded when I appeared. I smiled and we stood looking at each other. As it was later and a little murkier I realised the uplighter wasn't on so I went across the room, switched it on and returned to the window. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up, presumably for turning the light on. That made me feel good and I smiled. I felt more relaxed this time, he didn't seem to represent a threat and indeed, seemed to be a nicely turned out reasonably good-looking man. Probably about my age, forty-five, he looked to be the sort of guy I would go out with and maybe even sleep with. I did my usual wine trick and he smiled broadly when I returned to the window with the half full glass. Lifting his hand up as though holding a glass he toasted me; I returned that and he leaned forward in a slight bow. We stood looking at each other for a few moments and then his dog ran up, he waved, turned and was gone.

I went to the kitchen to prepare a meal thinking about my 'man in the gap.' In fact, I couldn't get him out of my mind and couldn't understand why I couldn't. I was feeling rather tingly, a little bit like one does with a potential lover as the anticipation of what might happen gets to you. But nothing was going to happen, was it?

I was out Saturday evening and he didn't appear on the Sunday, obviously having different dog walking habits at weekends. That made me think that he probably did a dog walk when he got home from work and that made me try to work out why? Most dogs get walked in the mornings or late evenings. The conclusion I came to was that he lived alone with the dog so no partner. For some reason that made me feel good.

My expectations on the Monday evening were higher than usual. I wore a skirt and blouse instead of the usual jeans and top and washed my hair just as if I were going on a date with him. I went to the window a little earlier than usual and my heart pounded when he was in the gap waiting for me. He gave me a big smile and raised his hand in greeting. I smiled back and also waved. After a couple of minutes, I got the wine and we toasted each other.

I didn't work out what he was doing when he started lifting and dropping his head. Then I got it. He was exaggerating looking up and down my body; that sent frissons through me. He directed his gaze upwards looking at my face and then moved it downwards until it was focused on my feet. Slowly he raised it until it was, or more to the point I imagined it was, staring at my breasts. I was, I realised becoming aroused and I found myself arching my back and thus, pushing my thirty-six-inch D cup breasts out towards him. He smiled and nodded his head several times and mouthed 'thank you' to me and then was gone.

I didn't go to the kitchen to prepare my evening meal but instead went to my bedroom, undressed and masturbated thinking about my man at the bottom of the garden.

I was on edge all the next day. I was looking forward to seeing him, wondering what would happen and what we would do? What did I mean I kept telling myself by 'what would we do?' What could we do? I was becoming obsessed with a stranger who just looked at me, waited for his dog and then walked off. I had no idea who he was, where he lived and what were his circumstances. I thought of getting in my car after we had stared at each other and following him when he came off the golf course, but that seemed against the spirit of our 'game' if that was what it was. Was it a game? I had no idea, but more and more his staring and my showing were in my mind. It was becoming more serious, more intense, and more oh I don't know but it was getting to me. I began looking forward to it and I knew that without doubt an underlying aspect was sexual. I became aroused when he stared at me and I became, possibly even more so, when I thought about it later.

I was now regularly masturbating about 'my man in the gap.' At the time I had no partner, I had been divorced just over a year, my long-term friend with benefits had been transferred with his wife and four children to the USA and there were no other candidates for taking his place or sexual prospects on my radar. Maybe it was the lack of sex that promoted my interest in the voyeur at the end of the garden or maybe it was a desire to exhibit myself to a stranger in such circumstances? Who knows, I certainly didn't?

We were starting to communicate. Not verbally, still no word had been uttered and only the odd one had been mouthed. It was by facial expressions, hand movements and body language. We smiled more and he made it obvious that he was ogling my body. He indicated for me to turn round, to bend over, both forward and back and to turn sideways. And I did, willingly, perhaps almost eagerly.

I had started 'dressing' for him. Skimpier clothes, gym gear, yogas, shorter dresses and tight skirts.

He was arriving earlier which was necessary as the days were shortening and staying a little longer, ten to fifteen minutes rather than the earlier five to ten.

Throughout the day he would come into my mind and my entire focus was on our 'meeting' in the evening. I knew that I was becoming obsessed. Not so much with him as a person but with the meeting. I knew that he was controlling and directing me, but I didn't know how or why I was letting him do that.

From his gestures and movements, I knew he wanted more. More of me. To see more of me, for me to show him more.

One evening after he had gone and I had left my 'viewing platform' I went to the bedroom on the same floor and started to undress. I had removed my fairly low cut, black, silky top and was about to take the tight, white trousers off when I stopped. I went back into the lounge and, although it was too dark now to see anything I looked to where I knew the gap to be wondering if he was there. Of course, I knew that he wouldn't be as, indeed, nobody was there nor, as far as I could make out on the golf course either.

Just beyond the gap the footpath runs round the back of a green where the hole is, some twenty yards or so past it. Hence, as most golfers rarely hit through a green unless they are pretty good or terrible I saw very few golfers in the area where my 'man in the gap' looked at me. I did worry at times that other dog walkers or the occasional rambler would look past 'my man' and see me when putting on a show and might report me, but in a way that simply added to the thrill.

I moved closer to the window. With the light behind me I guessed that had he have been there he would have seen clearly my breasts in the black diaphanous, Lejaby bra. In the back of my mind I had worn probably my best and certainly most expensive underwear. As I have full, heavy breasts they need the support of a good bra, but for appearances sake not one that covers too much. Lejaby bras are strong enough to provide the modest support I need but do not to hide too much. Being made from black lace it was pretty much totally see-through and soft enough that my always prominent nipples made very visible bulges in each cup. The thong was equally flimsy, dainty and so I had been told sexy. It encircled my hips with a slither of lace and satin plunging down between my cheeks to snugly, just about, cover my labia. It really was as the guy who bought for me called it 'underwear to be undressed in.'

Staring out into the darkness pretty, but not completely, certain that there was nobody there I undid the button on the waist of the slightly too tight trousers that I had worn especially for my watcher, I slid the zip down and looking at my reflection in the window I slipped them down and off.

In just the see-through bra and skimpy thong I looked out to where he would be if he were there and imagined him looking at me. I felt my nipples hardening and my female juices starting to flow as I went to touch myself. But then I lost my confidence and turning I walked away from the window and into the bedroom.

I used the floor to ceiling mirror as the substitute for my 'man in the gap.' Staring intently at myself I reached behind my back and unclipped my bra. As I would had he have been my audience instead of the mirror, I waited a moment or two before easing the cups away from each breast and exposing them and the inflated nipples to his and the mirror's gaze. I was on fire. My breasts felt so heavy and so full. My body was tingling everywhere, my nipples felt as though they were about to explode and my cunt felt as though it would fall away from my body.

I sank to the floor and lay there my hands squeezing and caressing my breasts. I spread my legs and my hand went down to find that spot of such pleasure. It took little time after finding that to roar my mind and body to a massive orgasm brought about by the nameless 'man in the gap.'

That night I slept with him!

He was now staying longer, staring longer and looking longer at me as I stood closer to the window with the light behind me illustrating myself more clearly to him.

Just like in a love affair, after two weeks or so we went further.

Again, just like in an affair he had been suggesting that we do go further. He had held the lapel of his jacket and pulled it open. He had held his hands at his waist and reached down his legs and as if holding the hem of a skirt raised them until they were waist high. I hadn't understood at first so I had shook my head and raised my eyebrows. Like a new lover trying to get to a woman's breasts or up her skirt and onto or into her knickers, he persisted smiling. Then I got it, I understood what he was doing and what he wanted. That evening when it hit me and after he had left I masturbated twice cumming very heavily both times.

Could I do it, do what he asked, what he wanted and what, reluctantly but eagerly, I realised I wanted as well?

Just before he left that evening he had held his hands as though they were cupping and fondling his breasts. Seeing him do that made it feel as if he was holding mine. And then he gesticulated as if he were removing my bra.

That gave me the idea.

The next afternoon I showered, washed and dried my shoulder-length, spiky blonde hair and slid into a pair of black with pink markings yoga pants. I wore a white, silky sleeveless top that was quite low-cut with thin spaghetti straps. The luxuriant material felt so sensual as it slipped across my breasts and nipples. I didn't wear either, knickers or bra. That made sure there were no ugly VPLs down below and quite distinct nipple lumps up above.

I knew that my appearance was rather slutty and quite obviously raunchy but that seemed appropriate for the occasion and is what some boy friends like now and then.

After wrapping a pashmina around my shoulders and chest, switching the up lighter on and pouring a glass of wine I went to the window and looked out. Yes, he was there and that made my pulses race. He was going to see more, I was going to flaunt my body at him. I hadn't decided just how much or what I was going to do but as he now asked me to let him see me from numerous angles he would inevitably see a lot of me. The yogas were skin-tight accentuating the roundness of my buttocks and bum and the top was thin and clingy emphasising the indentations of my pronounced, rock hard nipples.

Standing staring at him I felt my arousal increasing. As his gaze so obviously roamed over my body it became stronger. Touching his shoulder as if it were my pashmina, he raised his eyebrows as if saying. 'Take it off.' With my heart pounding I held his gaze but did nothing for a moment or two. Slowly, I turned round so that my bottom was in his direct line of sight. I looked over my shoulder and he gave me a thumbs up and bent forward almost to ninety degrees at the waist. I got the message and replicated that position that men seem to like so much, particularly when I am at the gym in tight yoga pants. After holding it for a few moments, I straightened up, slowly unravelled the pashmina and dropped it on the floor beside me. Then I turned round and revelled in the feelings I got as his eyes took in the sight of my nipples showing very clearly that I was not wearing a bra and indicating that I was very aroused.

It was a thrill, a big one, a very big one both to see his reaction and to have the surge of exhibitionist sensations roar through me. It was so like those I had enjoyed when my ex had taken photos of me in various stages of undress, in underwear, naked and touching myself. Then the camera became my lover and the lens the cock that wanted to fuck me. And that's precisely what I wanted right now; to be fucked. A part of me wanted to open the window and ask him to come in and do just that, but I knew I couldn't and wouldn't and instead cupped my breasts in the thin top lifted them up and presented them to him. Smiling, he clapped his hands and pursed his lips into a kiss. I turned away and went to my bedroom and laid on the bed.

I closed my eyes. Not to sleep but to think and wonder, and plan, and fantasise. I knew my voyeur was taking me over. He and what we were doing were consuming me and I was becoming more and more obsessed. I still, though, could not work out why I was so attracted to exposing myself to a man I had never met nor probably never would. Why I wanted to flaunt my body at him, let him see my nudity, my breasts, my nipples, my bottom, my stomach and pubic mound and yes in my wilder moments my cunt. As my hands, with no obvious instructions from my brain found my breasts under the smooth, shiny material of the skimpy top and fondled them so lovingly my mind had me sitting on my haunches naked, my legs as far open as they would go whilst he inspected my most womanly and most private places. Pink, wet and glistening, one of my hands slid down my body to find it and I rather surprised myself to find my yogas. I was so into thinking about him and pleasuring myself that I had forgotten I was still wearing them. But somehow and for some unfathomable reason that seemed fine. It added to the sordidness of me masturbating after flaunting myself at my stranger, the horniness of me doing it fully clothed and the sluttishness of me not wearing underwear. I toyed with putting my hand inside the leggings but again it seemed more in keeping if I rubbed myself from outside and that's precisely what I did. Through the silky top I pinched and pulled my nipples and squeezed and fondled my breasts and through the lycra moulded to my stomach, arse and legs I rubbed and stimulated my clit and fingered myself pushing the material a little way inside my labia. I came very heavily indeed.

Just as in a traditional love affair it became inevitable that I would show him my body. Wordlessly I agreed to expose my breasts to him soon. They had become in many ways the focal point of our show. Every time I performed for him his gaze certainly focused on them well at least I felt it did, but who can really tell from that distance? However, it's not the point whether his gaze did or didn't the real point is that I felt it did and I played to that. I pushed my shoulders back, I arched my back and I thrust them towards him. I rarely now wore a bra when with him and the tops I chose were thin so that my hardened nipples made such obvious indentations that he would be sure to see them and look at them as I sometimes pinched and pulled them imagining it was his teeth and lips doing that. But would we, could we stop there? Just like two lovers in real life the silent questions between us were: would I let him undress me and would I let him fuck me?

Although only a minor consideration, I knew it would be pretty safe exposing myself to the gap with him in it or not. All the time we had been 'playing' we had not been interrupted by anyone else either on the footpath or the golf course so It was unlikely we would in the future. Also, none of my neighbours in the flats either side above or below could see me though they could see him. I had smiled when it first occurred to me that some of them might could also be flashing at him and maybe it wasn't me he was ogling and gesticulating at?

Several times I had thought that he was going to expose himself to me and that maybe we would masturbate together but, of course I had not taken his potential audience into account and doing that would be an arrestable action. As it happens I had no wish for him to do that, expose himself that is, thought the idea of mutually masturbating with him had enormous appeal, but not with him fully dressed. I knew that if he got his cock out and started to masturbate I would not be impressed as it would be a turn off for me. Apart from the fact that a fully dressed man exposing his genitals is not a particularly arousing sight it was completely against the rules of our game. Our game was me exposing myself to him and him looking, not vice versa!