View from a window
Chapter 1
Graeme glanced out of the window. "Oh," he thought, "oh!"
His next-door neighbour was walking past. There was nothing odd in that. The neighbouring garden came right up to his new home's wall at that point. There was no reason why his neighbour should not walk past. It was not as if his neighbour glanced up or anything and saw Graeme looking; but Graeme certainly saw him. It was a hot day, but there again, in July in that Mediterranean country every day was hot and naturally the neighbour was lightly dressed: rather lighter dressed than he would be out in the street, he most certainly had a tee shirt on but, and that was the surprise which made Graeme stare, nothing else at all. That he had nothing beneath the tee shirt was obvious to Graeme: he had seen the man's cock swinging. Sensible attire really. The man seemed to be pottering around with a watering can and a pair of secateurs. A tee shirt to keep the sun off shoulders and, well, not a need for anything else in the privacy of his own garden. Quite an appropriate thing to do if private. Only it was not as private as he no doubt thought; not with Graeme's small window looking out.
Graeme stepped back into his room and turned for the door. At the door of the room Graeme paused and retraced his steps to take another look, standing rather further back from the window so, given the bright light outside, there really was no chance of being seen. His object not so much to watch the neighbour as to see if, just perhaps, and it would be a shame not to see, just in case his neighbour's young wife might come into view, perhaps similarly clothed or, even better, without attire at all.
Graeme stood looking out. The area he could see was not a lawn. A perfectly manicured lawn would not have lasted a week in that heat without absurd quantities of water. Rather the area featured plants suitable to the climate, -- bougainvillea, citrus trees, hibiscus -- a couple of palm trees and various flowering plants in pots. There was a seat over by the wall of his neighbour's outhouse and, if he moved Graeme could get a very oblique view of just the corner of their swimming pool. It all looked very pleasant and tidy. Certainly, it was devoid of people, at the moment.
He knew he was being nosey. Rather more than that, given he was hoping to see his neighbour's wife and wanting to see her out of his window because it would give him an erotic thrill. He looked at the door to the room. What would his wife think if she knew he was trying to play the voyeur? Yet his eyes returned to the window. A sudden intake of breath from Graeme, as a foot appeared in his field of vision, but, alas, it was his male neighbour coming into view once more, his penis swinging in a jolly fashion under his tee shirt. Graeme watched the man disappearing from his limited field of view, his buttocks peeking out from beneath his red tee shirt.
It was a pity his neighbour's wife was not out in their garden. Surely if her husband went around in just a tee shirt, she would not wear a lot. Graeme had certainly seen her and even spoken to her outside on the road. With his wife, Graeme was new to the area, had only bought the villa very recently and only just moved in. They had bought it for holidays, perhaps to rent out sometimes as well. The neighbours were about thirty, rather younger than Graeme's fifty years (or forty-nine as he liked to say still). The neighbouring wife was a pretty enough woman, Graeme had liked her long dark hair and high cheekbones. He had not been unhappy at her generous cleavage noted in her light shirt, possibly worn without a brassiere, when he had last seen her.
He stood there at the window hoping he might see his female neighbour. He knew very well he should not really be peeking, but he found himself almost glued to the spot in anticipation. A naughty anticipation.
Up to that moment Graeme's last sighting of the young wife had been a couple of days before out in the street but then, all of a sudden, there she was, down below him in the garden. One moment not there, the next fully in sight in the sunshine. Patience was rewarded, there were those breasts unobscured by anything at all. She was just in a pair of green bikini bottoms. Really it was little different from what could be seen on many beaches, but there was the important difference: Graeme was spying in secret. He had not intended to be a voyeur -- well, not much, he had noted one small window of a spare bedroom looked over his neighbours' garden and his reasons for being in that room that morning were, well, they were exactly to see if he could see anything.
Graeme felt himself getting hot and his armpits becoming damp; he leaned a little further forward staring at his neighbour's breasts whilst with a hand he lowered the fly of his shorts. A rather natural thing to do -- for a man. She was talking to her husband. He came back into view and there they both were: he naked from the waist down, she naked from the waist up. A tug and Graeme's penis was out of his fly and in his hand. It was quite different from his neighbours, the one outside was soft and wobbly, the one in his hand hard and rigid. Graeme was willing the man's penis to move. The thought of seeing the woman's hand reaching out and stroking it almost too good. How good it would be to see her erect him, see her hand upon the man's penis as his was on his own. But they just stood there talking and Graeme had to content himself with looking at the woman's breasts,
They were lovely and they were moving as the young wife talked and gesticulated. Pretty full, clearly rather firm with no sag at all; so good to see them wobble and swing; both were surmounted by pleasingly long nipples set in quite small, almost manly areolae. That was all that was manly about them! He thought about decorating them, a drizzle of warm 'cream.'
So strange the very next evening standing in those very neighbours' garden with a glass of beer in hand trying not to look up at his own little window. His wife had been talking to the neighbours; they had barely met until then and that meeting had led to them being invited around for drinks. Clarette was not now topless, definitely not, and Jarrett certainly had trousers on. The window was a lot less obvious from the garden side. Small, covered outside with a fly screen and half hidden by a mass of climbing Passiflora Edulis. Graeme tried to stand with his back to it so his eyes did not keep glancing up at his spy hole. He did not want to draw attention to it and for it to be in some way covered up -- or for his neighbours to ensure they were covered up when notionally private in their own garden. He had hopes of seeing rather more of Clarette. She really was lovely. It would be so good to see her again, unguarded and perhaps fully unclothed. Perhaps she might bend over... Naughty, bad, even wrong but what was the harm? None at all he could see, and Graeme had enjoyed his little voyeuring... and the wank. It was a pleasant evening.
He found he just could not keep away from that bedroom. If he passed the door he had to nip in, close the door behind him and take a little peek, hoping to see Clarette and Jarrett again. A feeling of disappointment when there was simply no movement at all in the garden below. He found himself lingering, hoping all at once a figure would come into his view, his ears straining to detect voices 'off stage.' He was not always disappointed but so often it was Jarrett or Clarette clothed.
A couple of days later he was in luck. Sort of. Graeme stepped into the bedroom and closed the door. It was quite early in the morning and he was on the way to make a cup of tea. Jill was not yet awake though he would probably wake her with a cup of tea on his return. Rather unlikely Clarette would yet be up and about and seemingly he was at least right about that, but instead there right outside his window was Jarrett. He at least was up and about in the early morning sunshine, perhaps just risen, certainly he stifled a yawn; the man was standing there with a book in hand motionless in his garden; perhaps he slept naked, it was certainly hot enough, because he did not have a stitch on, moreover he was standing there with an erection as large as life.
Graeme was not interested in men, not at all, but the association, the fellow feeling perhaps and certainly the connection to sex with Clarette came easily to mind; the thought that the tumescent penis he was looking at might have been slipping and sliding inside Clarette mere hours before, was a very good and arousing one. The thoughts of what penises did. As Graeme stared his own penis erected inside his pyjama bottoms. A quick tug at the cord and his pyjama bottoms fell to the ground leaving him as naked and erect as his neighbour. A real fellow feeling indeed: not that Jarrett could see him.
Had Jarrett been copulating with his wife the night before? Clearly, he had not that morning -- he would not be standing like that if he had! Graeme leant towards the window straining to see. The idea that he might detect dried semen on the man's knob gave him a strange thrill; his thoughts going to imagine how it had come about with Clarette. Better, of course, by far for it to have been her and to have seen the dripping evidence running down her thighs. If only he had binoculars to hand so he could examine Jarrett's penis for that evidence of connection with Clarette.
Strange seeing his neighbour naked and erect; strange seeing any man like that; strange watching him move around the garden with his penis up. In Graeme's mind the possibility and hope that Clarette might appear. He began to stroke himself, moving his foreskin up and down, at the thought of Clarette coming into view, perhaps dropping to her knees and sucking Jarrett's penis. Graeme would like to see that very much. Instead, with no dramatic entrance of Clarette from 'off stage,' Graeme had to content himself with half of the tableau and his imagination. Jarrett sported a fine enough erection, sticking up at a good angle, and a little to the right, from a mass of dark curls. In the early morning heat his balls swung gently.
Perhaps all the erection signified was an early morning need to relieve himself; maybe Jarrett would soon be watering the plants; perhaps it was a habit of Jarrett to take an early morning stroll around his garden, maybe enjoying the tumescent feeling, maybe he just ignored it.
In the garden Jarrett reached and pulled his erection down and then let it spring up. 'Boing!' Above him and unseen, Graeme stroked with more enthusiasm. Yes indeed, it was only a man he was seeing but he was naked and being sexual. The association of sex being enough to excite Graeme. Jarrett turned and walked towards the seat set against the wall opposite the window, showing Graeme his well-muscled buttocks.
