Three's a Circle Not a Triangle

Waiting for her to undress, William watches Susan.

With the sunlight shining through her house, lighting her up and spotlighting her as if she's a stripper on stage about to strip naked at any moment, he'd rather spend his day watching her in her mundane life than watching her in porn movie. Preferring more to watch live this reality TV show of a glimpse in the everyday life of a porn star, with nothing else to see but for this, he's already seen all of her porn movies over and again. Much later, only stopping from his sexy surveillance of her to watch the news and those reality TV shows, the Bachelor, Survivor, and American Idol, filled with voyeuristic excitement, William spent his entire day watching Susan with the sexual anticipation that she may remove her clothes.

Susan, Susan, Susan, his life was filled with thoughts of Susan. Most of his day was spent as if watching a boring baseball game or watching paint dry when watching Susan do her little chores around the house. He couldn't wait to see down blouses of her breasts while watching her work in her garden or seeing her laying out in the hot sun while imagining her wearing barely nothing. Yet, every time he saw her after waiting several minutes to see her do something, anything at all, so glad that she moved in across the street from him, he felt rewarded and glad that he was watching her after all.

No matter what she was doing, even if she sat there quietly while reading a book, he just loved seeing her without her knowing that he was watching her. He imagined he was there in her life doing all the mundane and minutiae little things that an old married couple does and that he no longer enjoys doing with Liz. All that he missed having with Liz when she fell out of love with him, he imagined the conversations they'd have and the laughs they'd share. He imagined having sex with her in the way that he used to have with Liz.

"If there's such a thing as fan fever and if there's such a thing as love at first sight, then I love you Susan Jill Parker. I do. I really do," he said out loud for no one to hear while imagining her standing with him at the altar.

"Speak now if anyone objects to this marriage or forever hold your peace," he imagined the reverend saying while looking out over all who were in attendance.

"I object," came a voice from the back of the church. As if she was at his trial objecting to him receiving a life sentence for just thinking about divorcing her instead of receiving the death penalty, he imagined Liz standing to raise her hand in objection and to ruin his imagined marriage with Susan. "He can't marry her because he's still married to me," he imagined his wife saying to embarrass him in front of all of his friends and family.

Fuck. Watching Susan every minute, he forgot about his wife. Married longer than he's been single, how could he forget about her but, with Susan now in his life, he did? He wished she'd just go away so that he could be alone with Susan. He wished she'd suddenly turn into a cougar and satisfy her every sexual whim with the lawn care, 20-something-year-old man.

Susan, Susan, Susan, all that he thinks about now is Susan, Susan, Susan. With his mind filled with Susan, Susan, Susan, all that he wants is Susan, Susan, Susan. Is that too much to ask when he's at the end of his life with so few years left to live, (cough, hack, wheeze)? Essentially, being that he's no longer a young man and being that he's in his sixth decade of his life and of living, all that he has to look forward to is death. All that he fears now is the dread of dying. Theoretically, a man his age, he could die of a heart attack tomorrow or an embolism any second. So tragic, as if he's her Romeo and she's his Juliet, he could die, not at the hand of poison but by natural causes, without ever experiencing seeing Susan undress or without ever experiencing what it would be like to have sex with Susan.

His life is complicated by the two woman that he has in his life, one that he has but no longer wants and who no longer wants him, and the other that he doesn't have but yearns to have. Other than her knowing he's her neighbor, she doesn't know he exists. Walking the beach of some tropical island with Susan by his side, he'd be happy with her if she'd let him. Only, allowing his sexual fantasy to control his commonsense, how could she possibly be happy with him, an old man and a man old enough to be her father? No doubt, someone who looks like her would want someone her age, a little older, or even a little younger. She'd never settle for a man with a bad back, bad knees, and who experienced occasional episodes or erectile dysfunction. It's poetic justice that he was always raring to go when his cock suddenly wanted to take a nap.

"Not now William Junior! Of all the times to fall asleep, you can't possibly be tired now when you should be sexually excited. Wake up you little bastard and stand up like the proud, wooden soldier I used to know you to be," he imagine shaking and quickly stroking his suddenly softening prick to semi erect attention.

As far as he was concerned, watching her walking from room to room to organize, unpack, and put things away was better than watching any porn video. If she was indeed that porn actress in his favorite porn videos and he truly believed she was, why watch her on his flat screen when he had her in a three dimensional view across from his house. Based upon her character, Susan, that she played in porn movies, and because her real name is Susan, he deemed watching her doing her typical, daily, little things was as if watching a non-erotic porn video. He's more than willing to watch her do nothing while waiting for the prelude of what he hoped would happen next, her removing her clothes.

Better than watching her having sex on DVD, whatever she was doing, whether unpacking a box while imagining her stripping off her clothes, he couldn't remove his eyes from her. Afraid he'd miss something, fascinated by everything she did, he couldn't stop watching her. With her being so beautiful and with him being so physically attracted to her, there was nothing and no one he'd rather see than her. After watching so very many pornographic videos with her as the star and after seeing her naked and having sex so very many times, he's masturbated over every square inch of her beautiful, naked body. Having imagined starring with her in one of her pornographic movies, he could easily fill in the sexual parts while watching her daily G rated activity.

As he matured from a horny, testosterone filled, young man to horny albeit sporadically impotent older man, he became more selective of his pornography. Too predictable with their stories and bored by most of them, now not just any porn film would do. No longer satisfied with just the explicit, sexual content, he wanted more of an erotic story with believable characters. Long before she was his dream woman, in the way that Shannon Tweed was then, when he was a much younger man, for the past ten years, Susan was his longtime, sexual fantasy woman and porn star.

Now with her living across the street from him, his dream come true, as if he was creating his own porn movie, maybe somehow, some day, and in some way, he could have an affair with her. Maybe somehow, some day, and in some way, she'd notice him in the way he noticed her. Maybe somehow, some day, and in some way, she'd be sexually attracted to him in the way he was with her.

Because she was so much younger than him and he was so much older than her, he seriously doubted she'd ever want him in the way that he always wanted her but, if nothing else, he could masturbate over her and over the sexual fantasies that he'd have about her. If nothing else, maybe unaware that he's watching her nor caring that he is, in the way she starred in so many porn movies, maybe she'd give him a live, voyeuristic show of her naked body while standing in front of her window. He'd love to see her naked in real life.

As if he was on police surveillance, an important stakeout of authorized overtime, and requested to watch a dangerous criminal, he sat there for hours staring at her from across the street. As if he was an insane patient confined to a mental institution, he chanted her name, Susan, Susan, Susan, as if he was Charles Manson and Susan was his minute by minute mantra. As if he was a dangerous prisoner forever locked away in a solitary confinement cell with nothing but a window, he imagined having sex with her even when he knew that having sex with someone who looked like her was an impossibility. As if he was an old man forgotten about in a nursing home that offered him little more than a room with a view of her bedroom window, he'd be happy with seeing that for the rest of his days while masturbating over the sexy thoughts of her dressing, undressing, and having sex with her. As if he was a stalker stalking a porn star celebrity, he watched her with lust from across the street.

He refocused his stare more on different parts of her body instead of on her face. He didn't want her to sense that she was being watched and that he was staring for her to turn to around to look his way, or worse, cover her windows to block his view. Instead of staring at her gorgeous face, he concentrated his leer more on her round, firm ass, her big, beautiful breasts, her slim waistline and flat stomach, and her shapely thighs that promised to lead his mouth, lips, tongue, fingers, and cock to nirvana, if only she'd let him. Not wanting to scare or startle her, he didn't want her to feel that he was an old, perverted man watching her, even though he was an old, perverted man watching her. Never thinking his life would come to this with him lusting over a woman young enough to be his daughter, somehow it did and somehow he is.

With his binoculars in hand and poised at the ready, should she strip naked in front of her windows as he hoped she would, he stayed positioned while holding them should he need them for close up views of her hot body. He wished he could take her picture or video her but fearing that she'd see the flash or spot the red light, he was content seeing her every curvaceous image with his own eyes and memorizing her every detailed movement. Not an easy feat to do, being that the chair was so bulkily heavy, it was worth the physical expenditure of effort and energy for the promised comfort of soft, warm, worn leather cradling his ass and hips. He carried his old, comfortable, red, leather chair closer to the window and to his table where he'd position his food and beverages while watching her.

When his legs started cramping and his back started hurting from sitting too long and when he tired from sitting in his red, leather chair too long, he'd switched to sitting in his soapstone brown, Herman Miller, Aeron, office chair to rock and swivel back and forth with the imagined image of her sitting naked on his lap. With her long legs wrapped around him, facing him while kissing him, he imagined her sitting on his cock while he cupped her naked breasts in his hands and fingered her nipples. A memory he'd love to have, he'd love to have sex with her in every room of his big house. He'd have a renewed appreciation for his house with the memories of Susan being naked in every room.

As if he was going on a camping trip, skipping supper, he used the time it would take for him to cook supper to raid the panty and refrigerator and carry up an armful of snacks along with his carafe of coffee. As if taking a commercial break during an important home team playoff game, dashing downstairs and running back upstairs so as not to miss anything, while Susan was in another part of her house and in a room where he couldn't see her, he readied himself to pull an all-nighter. If this was the closest that he could be to Susan right now, he was happy for the vision of her that would, no doubt, inspire all sorts of sexual fantasies of him with her later. Only, if he wished long enough and prayed hard enough, maybe a miracle would happen.

With the morning turning to afternoon and the light of day beginning to darken with the advent of night, making sure he had his lube and plenty of paper towels at the ready, as if he was watching her on video instead of in person, he couldn't wait to masturbate over her stripping off her clothes. If he had to, not wanting to take a bathroom break for fear that he'd miss something, he'd even use the portable pee pot he had when taking long trips in his car. He wondered if any of his other neighbors were watching her in the way that he was watching her. Nah, his neighbors are all old, then he thought with a laugh, with most of them the same age, his neighbors are as old as he is.

Besides, none of his neighbor's wives would allow their husbands the liberty to park themselves by their window to peep on their new neighbor in the way that his wife didn't care what in the Hell he was doing in his room. Sequestered in his den, once library, now office and makeshift bedroom to accommodate his voluntary separation from Liz, his living separately from his wife and with his new neighbor moving in across the street were the two best things that happened to him this year. Maybe his life is changing for the better after all. Maybe his next trip would be taking Susan to Vegas to have a theme wedding before having their Honeymoon at the Mirage or Bellagio.

Realizing when he thought about his neighbors being old, living in this old neighborhood with mature trees for thirty years, his neighbors were all his age with some a little younger and others a little older. Only, not taking care of themselves in the way he's done all of his life, they all not only looked older than he did but also acted older too. At 60-years-old, a young sixty at that, he didn't consider himself old, just aged and seasoned in the way of a fine cigar or single malt scotch. He still felt just as horny as he was at 30-years-old. Especially when it comes to sexual turn-on's, it's funny how some things never change. Loving that he was a voyeur, he still loved exhibitionistic women and now, hopefully having one living across the street from him, his life had finally taken a turn for the better.

For him to be watching his new neighbor in the way he was, he felt as if he was a horny teenager again. He remembered that he used to watch the girl next door, Becky McAdams, when he lived with his parents as an 18-year-old student after having just graduated high school. As if two ships passing by one another on the ocean of exhibitionism and voyeurism, that summer, Becky had just graduated college and returned home and he was on his way to college in September. Instantly in love, he couldn't take his eyes off of her and he spent many sleep disturbed nights dreaming about and sexually fantasizing about her having sex with him.

Becky McAdams, he forgot all about her until now that Susan inspired his voyeuristic fantasies. A vision to behold, Becky was the most beautiful woman in the world, that is, until he met and fell in love with Liz. A twenty-two-year-old hottie, with long dark hair and big brown eyes, Becky was his best friend Dwayne's sister. He wondered where Dwayne was now. He wondered where Becky was now, married and divorced and fat from having children, no doubt. If only Dwayne knew that he was voyeuristically enjoying his sister, he'd be angry. Only, at the time, he didn't care. She was worth a beating from her brother for him to watch her strip naked. Fodder for his sexual fantasies, Becky was his long, hot summer masturbation material then in the way that he hoped that Susan would be his daily masturbation material now.

Giving him a real, sexy striptease show, Becky must have known he could see her dressing and undressing. With their houses right next door and just the width of the driveway away across, how could she not know that not only could he see her but also that he was looking and watching? For fear that she'd stop her show of exhibitionism, always walking around in the dark for fear that she'd know his bedroom was across from her bedroom, he never turned on his bedroom light.

She'd undress with her shades up and her light on while he watched and masturbated over her unbuttoning and removing her blouse, unbuttoning and unzipping her short skirt, unhooking and peeling off her C cup bra, and slowly pulling down her skin tight, white bikini panties. Oh my God, she was a sexual vision to behold and one that he so looked forward to seeing over and again every night. If it wasn't for the bright flash of his Polaroid, he'd take her nude picture to preserve the naked memory of her but not wanting to prematurely end the show, he didn't want to push his luck.

Towards the end of the summer with nothing to lose being that he was heading off to college and he'd probably never see her again, he started giving her a show too. He'd lay on his bed and with his big, hard prick in hand and masturbate with his bedroom light on and his shades raised high enough for her to see what he was doing. Every time he stripped naked and started stroking himself, she'd turn off her bedroom light. It was then he knew that she was watching him because the next night, leaving her light on when she crawled on top of her bed, she returned the favor. It was then that he wondered if she sexually lusted over him as much as he sexually lusted over her.

After he finished masturbating himself, leaving her light on and her shades up, she stripped naked, laid on her bed, and masturbated in front of him too. Then, for the next week, as if they were porn twins, before he left for college, they masturbated together. Staring over at him, she'd play with her big tits and finger her nipples while rubbing her clit while he stared over at her and stroked his big cock. His sexual fantasy come true, having never experienced something like that before or since, he hoped to experience that now with Susan. He watched her orgasm and she watched him cum.

A time before the computer and the Internet, every night was the same show of her removing four articles of clothing and masturbating in plain view of him as he masturbated in plain view of her before, show over, she donned her nightgown and turned off her light to sleep. Every morning it was the same show with her standing within view of her bedroom window with her light on to strip naked to take her shower. After her shower, she'd walk around naked with a towel on her head as if she was a middle eastern woman wearing a turban. With a view of her ass and a view of the rest of her in her mirror, he'd watch her sitting at her vanity table naked to brush her hair. One hundred strokes, fifty strokes with her right hand and fifty strokes with her left hand. He imagined her stroking his cock in the way that she religiously stroked her long, brown hair.

In the way that Susan is now, Becky McAdams was his dream woman then. Yet with her his best friend's sister, with her being four years older than him, and with him being so sexually immature and naive, he never had the courage to ask her out. Duh! He was so stupid. An opportunity he always regretted not taking, in hindsight, he should have asked her out but didn't. If he had that opportunity again now, he would ask her out to dinner and sex afterwards. Just as he thought that, he wondered if Susan was his second chance. Maybe he shouldn't delay and ask her out for a drink or to lunch before someone else does. Shortly after he left for college, he heard that Becky married some big real estate developer who was old enough to be her much older brother.

He wondered what time Susan went to bed. Hoping it wouldn't be a long night, feeling as if he was on police surveillance stakeout again, if he watched her all day today maybe he'd learn her schedule enough that he wouldn't have to keep watch on her 24/7 tomorrow. Only, he wondered if she had the same routine every day. He wondered what time she awakened to start her day. He wondered what time she showered. He wondered if she'd leave her bathroom door open while showering for him to see her washing her wet, naked body. Why wouldn't she? She's alone. There's no sense closing a bathroom door when she's alone and already has all the privacy she needs. So long as he doesn't see her taking a shit, he'd love to see her taking a shower.