The Window

I'll never forget the first time I saw her.

I was putting Buddy to bed, as per our usual routine. My little brother loved for me to read him stories at bedtime. We were working our way through Alice in Wonderland, I think. He'd climbed into bed and was ruffling the duvet around himself, and I went to close the curtains. That's when I saw her.

Buddy's window was on the side of the house, and looked across the alley to our neighbour's house which was the mirror of our own home. For as long as I could remember, that room had been empty - full of storage boxes and dust. But tonight, there was a bed, a chest of drawers, and her.

Patricia. Or Trixie, as she preferred; the stuffy grandma name didn't suit her at all.

I found out later that she'd come back home for the summer from college; she'd run out of money so had to give up her digs and move back home with her parents over the holidays while she tried to make some cash for the coming academic year. We hadn't really spoken, other than at the occasional garden party over the years. She was a couple of years older than me, we didn't really have a lot in common. Girls hadn't really interested me. They were hard to talk to, and the ones in my class only spoke to me to tease me. In contrast, computers were easy. They said what they meant. I was quite happy being a keyboard warrior, or to lose myself in the fictional words of my paperback heroes.

But then I saw her, across the alley.

She was standing near the window, facing mostly back into the room. Her blonde hair was plaited and hung between her shoulder blades. She was in tight figure-hugging jeans, topless. I could see the smooth skin of her back, the curve of her hip, and some side-boob. My eyes ran down the slight crease of her spine and then followed the seam of the jeans down and around the swell of her bubble butt and through to places unknown.

"Mike! Story time!"

It must have only been a few seconds, but Buddy was impatient for his story. Reluctantly I drew the curtains, and settled down to pick up on the story. By the time we finished the chapter, and I'd tucked him in and gone back to the window to 'check' the curtains, the room across the alley was empty.

///

I didn't see her the following night, or the next. But later in the week, she was studying when it was Buddy's bedtime. I saw her lying across her bed, facing the window, with books and notepads scattered across the covers. She laid on her tummy and was propped up on her elbows, idly chewing on a pen as she considered some problem or other. Idly I wondered if she needed help with maths or science. My eyes devoured her body. So slim, so trim, with her pert backside again cased and shaped by denim, kicking her barefoot legs in the air. She had a loose scoop-necked top on, and I could clearly see the swell of her pert breasts, as a locket on a necklace swung and bounced off the cleavage.

I found it hard to concentrate on the story that night, and had great difficulty getting to sleep when it was my time to get my own head down for the night.

Over the next few nights I caught occasional glimpses of her. I was becoming infatuated. She wasn't teasing me, she probably didn't even know I could see her. I felt a little bit guilty, but even so I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong. I wasn't spying. She was leaving her own curtains open. I just happened to be there. And I hadn't seen anything, well, private.

Then came the really hot day. We'd got the paddling pool out and Buddy was splashing around having a great time. A water fight looked in the offing, so Mum took down the washing and asked me to take it up to her room, so that it wouldn't get wet again. Arms loaded with clothes and bedding I went up the stairs to my parents' room at the back of the house. I could see Mum and Buddy playing in our garden, enjoying the afternoon. But I could also see over the fence to next door's garden.

To Trixie, sunbathing. Lying on her back in a bikini, with a towel under her. I couldn't see her clearly, but my mind happily filled in the detail for me. The tight fabric across her boobs and bum. Beads of sweat running over her skin, rolling over her contours and through hidden valleys. She turned over and I saw her pert boobs hang in the bikini top. She looked up - did she see me at the window, watching? - and she untied the top and lay down on the towel, so as not to get tan lines on her back.

I'd had to visit the bathroom after that.

///

"Mum, how about we let Buddy have the big bedroom?"

"Why's that, dear?"

"Well I'll be off to college at the end of summer break. It's gonna be his room anyway. I don't need the space; my computer takes up no room and I can put my books on the box-room walls just as easily. Buddy needs it for all of his toys."

All true. Buddy's room was cramped, he couldn't play with some of his bigger toys properly in that small room - the train set in particular needed a larger area.

"Well I think that's very selfless of you, Mike. Very kind. We'll sort it at the weekend." Mum gave me a hug and a big smile.

"It's nothing, really. I'll have everything I need in there. A bed, a desk, a closet, and a bathroom."

And a window.

///

A couple of weeks passed. I arranged my bed so that I could lie there and get a good view through to hers on the other side, although generally I could only see her from the waist down when she was lying in bed. The best times were when she'd sleep facing away, so I'd get the perfect view of her shapely bum; in the summer heat she slept naked and on top of the covers. Rarely did I see her naked from the front, though; and then it was fleeting, out of the corner of my eye.

Did she know I could see into her room? Surely she must. But she didn't acknowledge me.

Once though, I did catch her in the shower. The door to her bathroom had a mirror; as it opened inwards it reflected a view to the cubicle. I lost several online health points and stat bonuses by trying to catch a fleeting glimpse at her soapy body whilst playing deathmatch with my virtual friends. But it was worth it.

One weekend, her family invited us over for a party. The night before, I heard an incredible throaty roaring noise, as a two-wheeled chrome and black monster pulled up on their driveway and a leather-clad beefcake dismounted. That night, Trixie's curtains remained closed.

The next day, the day of the party, I met her boyfriend. Ramone was his name, all tanned and exotic... And slimy. Did I hate him because she was his? Possibly. They'd met at college and were quite the item, it seemed. So no, clearly she wasn't interested in me in the slightest, and any inklings I'd got to the contrary were clearly the feverish imaginings of a desperate horny deluded teen.

Trixie introduced us, and I was as polite as I could bring myself to be, supressing my hate for him and - to an extent - my contempt for her in throwing herself at this scumbag. He acted nice around her and played at being attentive and devoted. But I noticed how handsy he was with her - always touching her hair, her waist, her bum - but with roving eyes checking out the other female guests. Including, I was revolted to notice, my own mother. This fuelled my rage. He'd already achieved perfection in a mate; how could he possibly want anyone else when he had Trixie by his side?

///

That night, I was early to bed and lay there, frustrated and angry. The fantasy was over, ruined by the hated Ramone, his smarmy attitude and his tight leather trousers. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and trampled on. How could I be so naive as to think she even noticed me, let alone liked me?

Darkness descended, and I went to close my curtains to shut out the night. But then they came into her room, kissing and hugging and groping each other. Part of me was revolted. But another part of me, lower down, wanted to see where this was going. I laid back down on my bed, in the darkness, and watched.

Trixie ran her hands up Ramone's sides, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal washboard abs and a full hairy manly chest. They kissed - how could she bear that scratching goatee? - as Ramone removed Trixie's top to reveal her bra, one of my favourites as it pushed her boobs up and together. With one hand he unclipped the fastening, and lowered his head to feast on her flesh. Momentarily, she pushed him down onto the end of the bed - which meant that, mercifully, I could see his smug face no longer, and could only see him from the chest down.

She danced for him; slowly, seductively, whilst unzipping her jeans and then slowly working them down over her hips. She wasn't wearing any underwear! The mere knowledge of this caused my rock-hard dick to start to leak; my hand absentmindedly stroking it gently as I watched. She leant forwards, naked, and started to work his trousers loose. He, too, was going commando, and as the leather was peeled from his groin, his dick sprung loose and stood, long and proud, up from his pelvis.

I watched, transfixed, as Trixie knelt before him at the end of the bed. It looked almost like she ws praying to her god. She stroked his dick, licked it, kissed it, caressed it.

And glanced, quickly but clearly, over at the window. At me? Or had she just realised that the curtains were still open, but decided it was too late now to do anything about it?

Slowly she sucked at the tip, stroking his dick and caressing his balls with her other hand. She began to bob with her head and pump with her hand, taking in just a little at first but gradually working her way down his shaft, taking more and more of him into her mouth. Surely she couldn't get more than half of him into her mouth though?

Ramone reached round for her head and grabbed her by the hair. It looked like he was holding her, pulling her, pushing her down over his dick. Part of me was scared for her. But my dick liked this. It noticed her other hand reach down and start stroking herself between her legs, working a fast and insistent rhythm. She rose and fell, rose and fell, taking more and more of his dick as he pulled her onto him, until soon she was impossibly taking the full length of him, mouth full and surely deep into her throat.

Then I saw her turn her face, dick buried deep in her mouth, to face the window. She looked straight out across the alley, straight into my window. Straight at my bed. And winked.

I came, hard and full and strong. She knew. She must have known for weeks that she could be seen. That I was watching. Every time she'd dressed, every time she'd laid in bed stroking herself under the covers, every short skirt and pair of Daisy Dukes she'd tried on and checked herself out wearing in the door mirror. Every set of lingerie she'd bought. She'd hoped I was watching,

I was spent, but she was just getting started. Her whole arm was vibrating as she played with herself, and her cheeks pulled in as she sucked hard on Ramone's dick while he held her face on him. Eventually he let go, and she pulled off him, shaking and convulsing, her other hand now slowing to a rest. She rose to her feet, and Ramone backed up on the bed. He ws now hidden from the waist up from my vantage point. But that did not interest me at all. I watched my Trixie climb onto the bed and straddle him, facing away so that she was in full profile to me. I watched her clutch his dick and guide it into her, watched her lean forwards onto her hands. Watched her breasts swing as she slid herself up and down over him, over and over. Watched his filthy hands caress her beautiful backside and hips as she worked herself onto him.

I couldn't take my eyes off the scene. I'd watched porn before of course, I was a teenaged boy. But I'd never seen anything remotely like this in real life. My mouth was dry, and my hand was pumping as I watched Ramone's dick repeatedly disappear inside her. I watched her bite her lip, toss her hair, grab at her boobs. I imagined I could hear her whimpering and moaning. Then I watched, transfixed, as she leapt off his dick and spun around to kneel between his legs. She pumped his dick furiously with one hand, and then he was letting loose all over her chest and stomach.

When he was spent, Trixie stood. She licked him off her thumb and fingers, and walked over towards the window. I watched as his jizz dripped and slid down her breasts and tummy, and ran down to her sex. I watched her scoop some up and raise it to her lips, all the time staring across the alleyway to my room. She winked, kissed the air, then closed the curtains as she turned back to the bed.

///

The next day I heard raised voices across the alleyway. I looked out of the window towards the front of the house to see Trixie and Ramone fighting, from the porch over to the driveway. Ramone was making all kinds of "it wasn't me" gestures, but Trixie was holding out a phone - his, presumably, not hers - and screaming abuse at him. Finally, she threw the phone at him; it missed, and smashed to pieces against the tarmac. She stormed into the house; he climbed onto his motorcycle and roared away.

Trixie came into her bedroom and drew the curtains. They didn't open again for the next three nights.

Later, I found out more about what had happened - Ramone had been cheating on her while they were at college. This didn't surprise me; he was such a scumbag. I felt for Trixie though; no matter how much of a mistake I thought Ramone was for her, he clearly had meant a lot to her, and it hurt me to see her in pain.

A few days later, I happened to be in my room during the day, when a delivery truck pulled up outside Trixie's house. I saw her sign for something at the front door, and then shortly after I saw her come into her room, ripping open the delivery box to retrieve what was inside. It was a long thin box, about 6 inches square by almost two feet long, in suspiciously plain packaging. Inside was another box, all pink and sparkly. I saw her claw this box open too and jump back onto the bed. Momentarily, the sparkly box was thrown over the end of the bed, and I saw what she was so desperate to unwrap.

It was a dick. An implausibly large rubber dick, about as long as my arm and as thick as my wrist. A dick surely no man could ever have possessed, not that I could reasonably imagine anyway.

I watched Trixie lift her skirt up over her hips. She raised her legs and planted her feet square on the mattress with her legs wide. I saw her twist some kind of dial at the base of this monster, as she brought the shaft to rest against her most private places. I could almost hear the gasp as her back bowed and she pressed the sex toy against herself.

I watched as she urgently pulled her thong aside, and brought the tip of the toy against her opening. Watched as she stroked the outsized fat tip across her wet lips, as she used one hand to pull herself open and stroke at the top of her opening whilst the other hand gently but insistently pulled the tip into her. Watched as the head finally slid home, and her back arched again, and her legs involuntarily came together.

Mesmerised, transfixed, I watched her slowly twist the toy from side to slide, sliding it in and out perhaps an inch or so as she did so. I could see the end of the toy glistening as she pulled it back out, and watched her rock as she slowly slid and twisted more of the huge length of it into her.

I must admit to feeling somewhat inadequate as I watched this incredible display. The toy was huge, so much larger than my own somewhat pitiful seven inches. I felt a little distraught; and yet... And yet I wanted her to succeed. To take it all, and not be beaten. So I watched, silently cheering her on, as inch by inch she corkscrewed the footlong member into herself. I watched her adjusting a dial and flinch when whatever setting that was took effect. I saw her hold the protrusion at the base of the monster against the top of her opening, stop sliding it in and out but just held it there. Then after a few moments she grabbed it with both hands and started really ramming it in and out of her hard. My own hands matched the rhythm as the sense of urgency in her actions built. I realised I wasn't going to last much longer, and that's when it happened.

With one hand she pulled the whole length of the monster out of herself. She snapped up into a sitting position and grabbed herself round the legs with the other arm. But that's not where I was looking. I was watching jets of fluid spray from between her legs - over the bed, across onto the floor. Was she peeing? It didn't look like it. Was this how girls came? I'd never seen anything so hot. Nor had my dick, which sprayed in sympathy.

///

I had some difficulty meeting her gaze after that, when we met out on the street, or at the shops. But she acted as if nothing had happened. Mum put my reaction down to just being an awkward teenager. But Trixie smiled at me, a knowing smile. "See you around later," that smile was saying.

I'd wondered what work she was doing during the holidays. Bar work, Mum had said. And it was true, she was rarely in her room on Friday and Saturday evenings, but she was also missing some weekdays. Whatever she was doing it must have paid well, as even I could tell that the quality of outfits she wore was increasing. This wasn't the cheap flimsy stuff out of child factories in China; this was high quality clothing from the posh shops in town. Loose flowing silks or tight body-hugging lycras, leather and suede and faux-fir. And the lingerie... This wasn't cotton VS common stuff, it was high end satins and lace.

One afternoon while I was coding at my desk I looked over at the window. Her bed was covered in clothes, her closet doors open. It was a mess. She was grabbing at things, throwing them about, clearly unable to decide. She caught me watching her. She turned to face me, miniskirt in one hand and short-shorts in the other, held them both forwards and gave a kind of shrug. I pointed at the shorts, and she smiled, and I watched as she stepped into them and slid them over her shapely legs and zipped them closed. Then she held up a tie-up blouse and a scoop-necked crop top. I pointed to the blouse, and watched as she tied it over her boobs. She stood, gave a twirl, and made a "ta-da" action with her hands. I pursed my lips and nodded in appreciation. She blew me a kiss, and skipped out of the room.

Helping her dress became a semi-regular thing after that. I got a real kick out of choosing different looks for her. She had such great clothes. Sometimes I'd dress her all naughty and slutty. Sometimes she'd be all sweet and innocent but with exotic black lace underneath in secret where only she and I knew. Some nights I'd see her come home and she'd striptease for me, taking it all back off while I watched. Mostly though, it would be so late that I'd be asleep when she got home.

Then one day I found out where she was working. Dad was driving us back late from a movie, through a rougher part of town, when I spotted her little Fiat in the car park of a seedy-looking bar - darkened windows, lots of neon, with a fantasy girl logo picked out in pink tube lighting. Was this the bar work Mum had been referring to? My mind reeled. Was she a bartender... Or a dancer? A stripper? My imagination started making connections, fair or not I wasn't sure. It made sense of her exhibitionism. Was she practising on me? Had I been dressing her to come here and show off to other men? The idea repulsed and excited me in equal measure.

///

Another night, she came out of the shower in her robe. She dragged a chair towards her window, then beckoned me up to mine. She started to mime.

"I see you," she was signing. I blew her a kiss and made a few somewhat crude gestures. She shook her head, and pointed at me. She pointed at her eyes in a V, then turned her hand back to point at me. "I watch you," she seemed to be saying. And she sat down on the chair, still wrapped in the robe, and waited.