The Silhouette

As I opened my eyes, the alarm clock on the side of my bed read 1:30 AM. Needless to say, I was having a rough night sleeping. Unusually warm weather suddenly moved into my region and it made it impossible for me to sleep. Normally I would have turned the air conditioner on if it were summer, but it was barely spring and a warm front made tonight almost unbearable. A full moon beckoned me to go for a walk to try to get tired and with any luck, catch a breeze while getting sleepy.

I didn't bother to put on much more than the shorts I was sleeping in and a ratty old t-shirt. At that hour of the morning, there wasn't anyone out in my neighborhood that I needed (or wanted) to impress. The tree lined street was lit only by the moon and a flickering street light across from your house. Even from my vantage point, I could see that a light was on in your living room. Figuring you had fallen asleep on the couch after a long night on the computer, I made no mind of it until I got closer to the home and noticed your windows open, and heard the sound of the television interrupting the stale night air. I faintly heard the whining of one of those late night info-mercials when I stopped in my tracks to hear a gentle moaning sound coming from the inside of your house. I paused, glaring carefully into the bushes to make sure that I wasn't intruding on a skunk around your bushes, warning me of impending danger.

Once my ears honed in on the sound, it was unmistakably the sound of someone in the beginning throes of pleasure. But was it self-pleasure? Like radar, I tuned out the annoying television and focused on your breathing, becoming slightly labored. The low, raspy moans were of only one person: you. I had envisioned you as a passionate person, and had thoughts of you on at least a couple of nights in passionate positions, but never had dreamed I could witness those dreams become a reality.

Those damn window shades, I thought, as I tiptoed closer to your window to see if I might see you in a moment of sheer self-lust. I found one shade that provided just a peek into the room, giving me a small glimpse of your most private moment. The television set provided just enough light for me to see an almost angelic side of a woman I only knew to that point as one of my neighbors - an image that will forever be etched deep into the core of my soul. Would I be able to look at you the same way at the next neighborhood cookout? Would there be a special glimmer in my eye on the oft chance we said hello? Would you think of me as weird if you caught me, staring at you as had such precious time with yourself. One hand was gently caressing your breast, teasing your nipple. As you moved away, I couldn't help but notice that it stood straight like a soldier on patrol, reflecting the light off the television from a glistening provided by your moist fingers. Your other hand was poised between your pearly white legs, not concentrating on one area over another, just enjoying the feather-like touch that appeared to allow you this wanton state of self-pleasure.

My senses were acute - focusing on nothing else other than the events that were being unveiled in front of me. I could feel my own emotions stirring, but dared not to attempt to relieve myself for fear of being caught. I didn't want to lose this moment - which seemed to be moving in slow motion time, as you manipulated your tender regions into a gentle frenzy of sensuality. Like a flower in the spring, you opened up, allowing your tensions to become more vocal as you released them to an unknowing audience. I could see your head swaying back and forth, like a ship on the open seas, being bounced about the waves of pleasure that was wracking your body. Your hand began to move faster between your legs, concentrating more on your special spot. Rather than just drifting aimlessly, your fingers and mind were on a mission, the same mission, and it would appear you were coming close to your goal.

Your breathing became louder and more shallow. Your breasts gently follow the motion of your breath, moving in time with each ragged breath. Moaning becomes an animal-like grunting. Your mouth forms a perfect oval shape, not releasing anything other than an occasional short complicated breathing exercise allowing you to reach your pinnacle - your sensual summit.

All went silent. For one brief moment, there was no television noise, there was no internal sound of my own pulse racing - everything stopped for one split second as your senses combined with your mind to bring you to the point of passion you worked so hard to release. It was a sound every man should get to hear at least once in his life - the sound of unadulterated pleasure that no one other than a woman herself could accomplish.

Slowly, your breathing returned to normal, as mine continued to race. I labored to keep myself as quiet as possible to not scare you in such a fragile state. A sheen of sweat lingers on your torso, as you slowly bring your hand from your quivering lower body to your breasts, giving them one last piece of attention before breathing a deep sign of relief, or was it release?

Slowly you rose up, completing your task, and proceeded to turn off the television, but not before one last look at your body, basking in the glow of the television as you bent over to turn it off. Your proportioned hips only lead to a perfectly positioned backside and legs as the one light in the room was snuffed, leaving me only with the memory - and your silhouette, fading out of the room and into my soul.