The Neighbor

It has been two months since all this started, and I am failing four of my five classes. The problem is, whatever I do, I can't help myself. I keep going over the events in my mind to try to snap myself out of this trance and get my life started again:

Five months ago I arrived at UW as a graduate student to study political science. Lucky in the housing draw, I moved into a two-story student apartment with two roommates who were chemistry majors and so were never home. The autumn quarter started, and I started doing everything I thought students are supposed to do: I attended classes, went to football games from time to time, got drunk at parties and, being a graduate student, always went home alone, without any of the excited and exciting undergraduate women I would try to talk to.

Then, three months into the school year, it happened. As I sat in my room at the desk facing my window pretending to write a paper about the constitutional law, I noticed everything. I noticed that my second story window had a plunging view into a bedroom of the single-story apartment it faced. I noticed that my neighbor was a woman—probably a few years older than I am, maybe a graduate student. I noticed that she was in her room and that her blinds weren't drawn. And I noticed that she was undressing.

I know now that I had no idea of what this would become. At the time, I thought it was kind of funny. And even though I got a painful hard-on when she plopped onto her bed after examining herself in the mirror wearing only a bra and panties, there was no way I could have understood in what state I would end up. I watched her lying on her stomach in her underwear reading a book and—after closing my own blinds enough to feel like I was hidden—quickly jerked myself off. It was the thing to do, faced with a rare event like this. It had obviously been a lapse. She would remember to draw the blinds next time.

The next days, feeling very unrealistic, I kept an eye out for my neighbor. My sighting felt very unreal—I could hardly remember what she looked like, and with each glance at impenetrable blinds that covered the window across from mine, I began to doubt that I had seen anything at all.

But then, three days after the first time, I caught a glimpse of movement in the window as I worked at my desk. She must have been on my mind more than I thought because right away I dove to turn off my lamp, almost knocking it down. Getting back up in the dark that, I hoped, hid me, opening my blinds as much as I dared (even though it was night, I was scared to be seen), I looked down into her window—and this time I absorbed everything, excited beyond belief of the possibility of a repetition of the show from before.

She had gotten home and, stepping into her room, opened her shades and turned on the light. Even though I didn't expect much—who would open her shades before undressing?—I could hardly keep from trembling: I was too nervous and too excited to sit still. It became worse as she kept walking in and out of her room, in and out of my view, each time me not knowing if it was all over. But this time, so caught up in what I was seeing, I noticed everything about her.

She had thick, dark hair that ran just past her neck onto her shoulders. She was of medium height, and even though she wasn't the same body-type as most of the college women I ogled at parties, her curves immediately provoked a tingling in my stomach that quickly spread into an erection: she had medium-sized breasts (the size of breast that, while not small, seems always to be firm and to float) and wide, round hips that rolled with a beautiful, rounded ass as she walked. Her jeans seemed to be on the verge of splitting off her firm bottom.

Finally she came back into her room, closing the door. Even though she seemed to settle down, I was reaching the limit of agitation. It was all I could do to stop myself from jerking-off right away, just to break the unbearable tension. Just as I was about to give in, she got up from putting her books away and stood in front of her mirror, a full-length mirror on the back of her door that faced her window (and me). To see her, even fully-dressed, from the front and the back at the same time immediately made me forget myself. The tingling of my stomach and my erection, the tensely nervous buzzing my ears all mixed with the vision of her in her entirety, fading me from existence. There was only what she was doing. And now, after turning to look at herself from all sides in the mirror, she began to undress.

First she tore off the tight, light blue t-shirt she had been wearing. As it slipped off her stomach, moved passed her breasts and snuck off her head, the material contracted turning it into a small blue spot in her hand that she tossed into a corner. Underneath, she wore a cream-colored bra that stuck so well to her body that only a slight change in shade separated it her back, her breasts. Again she swiveled her body around, looking at herself, adjusting her bra and jeans, pushing up her breasts with her hands. And then the bra came off too, strap sprung, shoulder loops slid, releasing her breasts—soft, white rounds peaking forward in marvelous marble-red tips. More spinning, self-examination as she lifted her breasts at all heights possible before letting them fall back to their natural posture with the lightest bounce.

Bra tossed in the corner, her hands moved in heady slow-motion towards her waste where button by button the front of her jeans opened showing, as she paused to look at herself again, black panties that reflected a silky shine. Then, seemingly too tight to come off so willingly, she slipped off her jeans in an impossible slide, the denim following every turn of her ass, every round of her hip. Then she stood in front of her mirror, the perfect shape of her body uninterrupted. She swiveled herself, looking at her bottom covered in a shiny black film of a panty, swiveled back to look at the two strips of material that skipped past the top of each hip before meeting inches below her belly-button and sliding down a flat, steep slope that disappeared between her legs into an unimaginably dark, sweltering, obsessing spot where the strip of black silk again became its thinnest.

It was, at least, this spot that obsessed me after she spun—this time playfully—one last time before sliding her almost naked body under her sheets to read. This movement suddenly woke back into myself. And even though I was soaked in pre-cum, I had completely neglected myself. I came right away in huge, emptying jolts having barely touched myself.

It was only after having spent myself that, too tired to move but suddenly afraid that she might see me, I realized how irritated I was that I didn't come while watching her. More importantly and even though I didn't realize it at the time, it was at this second viewing my problems began. My neighbor had planted an obsession into my mind that, next to my memory of her image (always painfully blurry after the fact to satisfy me) endlessly grew and demanded more space in my thoughts and my life.

It started slowly. I kept a vigilant eye out for her while I would study at my desk. Then, I began migrating to my window whenever I was in my room. After that, I would keep the lights off all the time as I waited, making studying impossible (not that I had concentrated on much but her window since that second night). After that, I rushed immediately upstairs to my room when I got home. Finally, I stopped going to classes all together. My schedule was apparently different enough from my neighbor's that I had become terrified of missing another sighting. Slowly her image and waiting to again encounter that image consumed, one by one, the other aspects of my life until there was only her and watching for her.

In exchange for sacrificing most of my life, I saw her sporadically. Sometimes her shades were half-closed. Other times, completely open. Sometimes I went weeks seeing only the light come on through the closed shades in her room. Other times, she undressed excitingly with the shades wide open many days in a row. But a pattern never emerged that might somehow allowed me to free up part of my life.

I saw more of her. Different clothes came off in different ways revealing many kinds of material underneath. One night she had unzipped a skirt to reveal a blue thong that hardly seemed to cover the slight mound between her legs. Another night, she emerged from the shapeless gray of sweat clothes, formalizing her tight, rounded form in white panties that, wet with the sweat of her jogging, conformed to the rounds of her buttocks and even gave the slightest hint of the dark crack between each cheek and the shade of a triangle of hair that pointed to that secret place between her legs that had become the capital of my mind.

Every time I saw her undress, it so threw me into an oblivion of commotion that even I can hardly tell one 'show' from the other. My neighbor usually stripping to her underpants before slipping into bed, the only evening I can distinguish from the others is the first time I saw her completely naked, the first time I saw what so many panties had hidden from all but my imagination. My eyes focused on her room, I new she was home despite the tightly drawn blinds because of the light that came on behind them. I followed her shadow as she moved back and fourth as I had so often on these disappointing evening of drawn shades, and, leaning over to pull off her panties too close to the blinds, she tipped backwards balancing only when her bare ass pressed the blinds to the window so that I could see (or imagine—it was often impossible to tell) the rounds of her ass. I came right away, wave after wave of pleasure sending me further away from myself and, for a moment, closer to her. Then, as I fell back in my chair, her round form left the window, and then her silhouette left the room entirely.

Expecting nothing else, I waited a bit longer for the lights to go off marking the rare moments where I could relax my vigilance. But, instead, the shades shot upwards exposing her, her body wrapped in a vast, white towel and her hair in a smaller one. She dried her hair, her face before tossing the small towel in a corner. Then, before I could understand what was happening, she unwrapped the towel from herself and dried all the slow rolling curves that had grown so familiar to me. Only, this time I saw every curve in the flesh. I saw the line of her breast continue uninterrupted down past her stomach, bending inwards into a point that became blurred in the dark triangle of hair that was thinnest at the upper corners and exploded into a funny little tuft at the place where her thighs were closest together.

When she bent over to dry her legs, my entire being shot through each of my nerves to my groin, my cock harder than it was when I had cum minutes ago. Bending over to dry her feet, just between the place where her legs became her ass, I could just see that darker, softer skin the only knowledge of which had ruled my mind until then. I lost all sense of my usually exaggerated caution. I completely opened my blinds, I fell forward my face onto the window wanting automatically to get closer to her. I saw the pink-brown softest skin of her cunt, and even though I can't remember touching myself and even though I had just cum moments before, my cock swelled and suddenly shook in a release that I didn't think could end until I had completely spent my entire life in that climax. It was all too much for me to keep track of everything. For all I know, she might have caught me watching that night.

Such is the obsession of my life that has devoured all else and that has me failing my classes. I watch for my neighbor and, when I am lucky enough to see her, her under things or her most secret skin, I pass for a moment into an oblivion that makes me only more empty, more eager and addicted to watching her again when it passes. I am caught between the need to watch her and the deepest fear that she might catch me watching. Even as I write this—trying to get some peace of mind—I am going out of my mind seeing her pass in and out of her room, wearing only a t-shirt that hardly covers the white, cotton panties underneath it. I know that I must do something to break this situation, one way or another. The center cannot hold.

*

The light in her momentarily empty room shining through the glass of her uncovered window, he left his room. The back door to his apartment slowly swung open and his figure was hardly visible as he crossed the short distance that separated the two buildings. When he reached her window, he saw that the frame was filled in only with the screen—she had opened the glass on this hot night. He skillfully lifted the screen off its screws as he had watched her do three times when she had forgotten her keys. He stepped into the room before putting the screen back as best he could with his hands trembling as much as they were. When he turned around, he was surprised to see how unfamiliar this roomed he had stared into for so long seemed to him now that he was in it. As he turned to see his own room behind and above him (half out of excitement, half to verify if she could have seen him watching), he saw to his right the pile of clothes that fell out of his field of vision when she tossed them off her body.

Feeling the tension of a disaster mounting in him, around him, he couldn't stop himself from taking his own clothes off. His shirt was melted into the pile of bras and panties before he realized what he was doing, and when he saw his pants on the floor, his cock nervously, insanely erect in the air, he could only contemplate the catastrophe he was letting himself run into.

It was at that moment when she, still dressed in only a t-shirt and white panties, came back into her room. Somehow, she only noticed him in the mirror mounted on the back of her door after she had closed it. He had never seen her so closely. She froze, her eyes wide with surprise that excited him, that suddenly made even less matter than the moment before when he was taking his clothes off in this stranger's room.

Acting as though he were watching himself, he walked towards her and for the first time touched her body, taking her arm and leading her to the bed. He bent her over the edge, and not conscious of the movement of his own limbs, found his hand sliding down that white material of the panties that covered her ass. Slowly it passed over a cheek, moving towards the place where her legs came together until finally, after months of watching, his hand settled on the white that covered the slight eminence of her lips. His hand stayed there, moving back and forth in an animal rocking that he couldn't control, his fingers moving over and over the material that covered her cunt.

When his fingers began to feel the hot damp that spread in the cotton that was over her crotch and when he felt her slowly rocking against his hand, the situation suddenly changed. Suddenly what had felt like the beginning of a mad disaster shifted into complete opportunity, arousal. He had stepped into a realm of unlimited possibility. The moisture coming from her pussy now inspiring his thoughts, he stood up behind her and, after having watched her undress so many times, pulled down her panties himself. The crotch—almost clear from her juices—stuck a moment in the place where her thighs were closest together before slipping free. Seeing her ass, watching her pussy visibly becoming wetter, made him feel for the first time his own nakedness.

Pushing her legs slightly more apart with his own, leaning forward, he slid slowly his cock into her. The wet heat that followed him down from the head, down the shaft, to the base of his penis was shocking and sent his pelvis smoothly rocking into her wet heat. As the bottom half of his body worked away, he leaned forward so that his chest settled on her back. He could feel her panting become more exaggerate with each thrust. His nose fell into her hair that smelled like a dark flower—a smell that barely emerged from the scent of their overflowing sex. His hands slipped under the shirt she was still wearing and settled on her breasts, stopping the wild bouncing that his thrusting caused. His ears closer to her, he heard her making small moans that ended in a sort of hiss, as though she couldn't quite get out the 'yesssses' she wanted to yell as he slid in an out of her.

Then her body shook, her cunt gripped him, sending her heat though his body as she came wet, violently on him. The jolt tipped him too over the edge, and as wave after wave of pleasure ran through his body becoming the jizz that pour into her pussy, he wondered if she knew that, before all this, he had watched her for long from his room.