The story was about a peeping tom, or rather a peeping tomasina. Lily was still waiting, without much hope, for the day Laurel would write a story from a male perspective. The female protagonist haunts dark alleys looking for strangers in windows… haunting dark alleys is a dangerous thing for a woman alone, and Lily felt a soft surge of adrenalin. A couple is found and there is a descriptive passage, hands kneading breasts, hair pulled back, the sheen of a surface of skin covered with sweat, and Lily felt the prickling of her own sweat breaking from its sheath of flesh.
A tattoo of heels; someone was walking by. She resisted the urge to minimize her screen. No one would pay attention to a document, no one could take the time to read it without her noticing. She must act cool, as hot as she felt. The unnamed protagonist continues her search for flashes of other people's intimacy, and succeeds only to find the couple she is watching are people she knows. She knows she shouldn't watch her friends fucking, that that is an invasion of privacy worse that what she has committed before, but she can't resist the allure. Her female friend's hair is long and that occidental shiny black that leaves a lovely trail of motion as she heaves herself up and down on the lap of her lover. Her lover is of a wiry build, tattooed on the chest and upper arms, hair once producted in place now tousled from carnal activity. The fictional spy is drawn closer, hides her face behind the outline of the blue drapes on the inside of the blue room where a blue scene is being enacted.
Lily looked up and away from the screen and tried to keep her face from betraying the turmoil of emotion and lust in her heart and loins. She smoothed her shiny black occidental hair behind her ear, and conjured up an image of her boyfriend, Marcus, of wiry build, tattooed and generally seen sporting a carefully producted faux hawk. Her bedroom was blue, in the back of her house, with a window to the alley behind where domestic refuse was picked up once a week. Laurel had been there before, of course. This could all be Laurel's imagination setting itself in Lily's life. But it could be more than that. She could see Laurel viewing peeping as some sort of creative imperative, fully justified by her art. She read on, but the characters were firmly in place as they people they obviously were.
Laurel watched as Marcus cupped Lily's buttocks in his hands, then squeezed brutally and pulled them down onto his hard thighs. His cock was different from how Laurel had previously imagined, noticeably curved to the left even in tumescence. Hard blood made the veins in it stand out, just as Marcus' forehead was veined with exertion. As Lily vigorously pumped up and down, her effort coupled with Marcus' to a power that seemed more than the sum of its parts, her breasts flew wildly and Laurel could almost feel air currents against her cheek created by their movement. She touched the window, and felt the cold mesh of screen. It was open, and with that realization came her recognition of noises that they made reaching her ears, organs that up until now had been filled with the sound of her own heart beating. Lily's breath was sharp, and vocalized in a high whine at the end of each exhale. Marcus grunted, off beat from the whine, but their bodies moved in tandem. Lily's fingers gripped sharp dents into Marcus' shoulders as she kept her balance while slamming onto his slightly sinister cock. Laurel removed her finger from the cold mesh and sought the warm flesh beneath her skirt. Her breath quickened, but she kept it quiet.
Marcus was shivering all over now, and Lily was losing the rhythm, her grip unsure on his quaking clavicle. Laurel moved her fingers against her clit faster, intent on finishing when they did, then slinking home, the noise of her exit inaudible to the couple distracted by after shocks and breath-catching. But it did not happen that way. As Lily came up, her thighs rising from her calves, about to come down home again, Marcus' hands rose up suddenly to grasp the hair at the base of her head and hold her there. "Didn't think you were gonna get off that easily, did you my little slut?" he grinned. A sound came from Lily that was not a word but expressed laughter, anticipation, and an overwhelming desire for orgasm. He pulled her up and off his member, then threw her on the bed with more force than his thin frame should be able to produce. He threw her face down. His erection was so strained outward it seemed to want to detach from his body, but he ignored it and buried his face between the ample cheeks of Lily's ass. Laurel had to shift position to see clearly which made her visible through the window but she had no worry that either of them would think to look or notice. Without her conscious thought, the movement also brought her middle finger up into herself, as her index, now moving slower, massaged her clitoris in circles. As she saw Marcus' tongue plunge repeatedly into Lily's sphincter, the walls of her pussy pulsed against her finger. She wiggled it forward and was rewarded with electricity flowing through her body, and moisture flowing down her leg. But she was not done yet, she was not done until they were done.
