We Don't Need No Stinin' Curtains!

I will admit, my purchase of only tissues and lotion at the pharmacy the previous day in front of my neighbor, and the use of them that night for her viewing pleasure was a stroke of genius, no pun intended. I had by now figured out that she was a very sexually inventive woman in her own right. How much of this was her Lucky S.O.B. husband's idea I can't quite say, though I'm sure he probably went right along with it.

The next night when I got home from work, I paused at the mailbox for a moment before opening it. Two days earlier Blondie had stuck a letter in there that said, "I know you watch." So I didn't know what else I might find in the box. When I grabbed my mail I noticed with curiosity that none of it was addressed to me. The names Erika and Roger White did not at first ring a bell, and the address on the label was 7 Pervert Drive. I live on 6 Pervert Drive. Looking across the road at my exhibitionist neighbors' mailbox, I saw a 7 painted on the side of it. Wow, I now finally knew their names, and didn't have to call them Blondie and Lucky S.O.B. any longer.

Considering that Blondie had mischievously put a note in my mailbox two days prior, had she intentionally put her own mail in my box so that I'd have to ring their doorbell and give it to them? Or was this just an honest postal mistake? Regardless of the answer I couldn't very well keep their mail, so I decided to give a little knock on their door. Lucky S.O.B., I mean Roger, answered the door. We said hello, I handed him his mail, and he invited me inside almost immediately. I can read faces, and it seemed to me his was giving away that this errant mail was no mistake on the postman's part.

The Whites who reside at 7 Pervert Drive apparently have a nice touch of style when it comes to interior decorating. Unfortunately, I have no taste for such things, so it would be complete futility for me to try to describe their living room to you. Suffice to say, it was a million times better than what I had in my place. You can very easily tell which house doesn't have a woman living in it.

Speaking of women, the charming, beautiful and damned hot Blondie, er... Mrs. Erika White, made her appearance into the room. "Ah, hello Mark!" she said, for Mark is my name, "Nice to see you again."

"Again?" interjected her husband with a curious look.

"Yes," Erika replied as she glanced over at me with a suggestive look, "Mark and I chanced to meet at the pharmacy yesterday."

And again that night naked from each of our bedrooms, I wondered if she had filled him in on that part as well. If so, neither of them was letting on. Roger was sitting in a black leather easy chair, and his loving wife stood behind him, leaning on the back of the chair. Roger and I soon fell into a general discussion about the neighborhood and about what each one did for a living.

It was a few moments of this trivial talk until I realized with a gasp that Blondie Erika was standing behind him calmly applying some moisturizing lotion to her hands! She was very demonstratively rubbing it in, one finger at a time, her hands held up high enough so that I could see this. She was looking at me while doing this, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But there was no mistaking that she was making a silent comment on the item I had purchased at the pharmacy yesterday, and what I had done with it when I got home. I couldn't help but let out a small grin in recognition.

With these thoughts flying around in my head, it was becoming difficult to concentrate on my chat with Roger. The task became even more difficult when I saw her pick up a tissue and clean each one of her fingers off in that same deliberate fashion; still looking back at me with that nothing out of the ordinary look on her face. I'll give it to Blondie, she is a real pro at this teasing game. Hand lotion and tissues being the very things she saw me purchase and then wank off with yesterday, her suggestive actions with the two items were too much for my attentive hormones, and I soon realized I had a full erection in my pants. I also noticed her begin "sneaking" looks at my bulge, some of them very lingering in nature. No doubt she recognized my erection as proof that I got the hint about what she was doing.

Now, Roger had probably said something really important about going golfing sometime, or giving me his home number in case of emergency, or even perhaps to watch out for the rabid bear that had killed someone three streets down. But even though he was the one speaking, his devious wife now had my attention. Her lotion application now done, I only then realized she had a very thin top on, with no bra underneath. The shape of her breasts was exquisite, and her nipples were very much poking through the thin fabric in an unmistakable manner.

While I would have loved to stay and chat with Roger, his wife was tormenting me too much. My dick was rock hard, the bulge obviously visible to both of them, and I could feel pre-cum beginning to accumulate in my underwear. The thought of sitting there with a wet spot forming on my pants was too much for me to take, and I had to pretend I had important things to do tonight and hastily excused myself to go home. They had to have a good chuckle about it after I left. What a devilish tease she was being, and he was a great supporting actor.

I thought about the lotion on her hands, the tissue wiping it off, no bra, and pointy nipples, as well as her repeatedly gazing down at the bulge in my pants that she knew she had caused. Erika was inside my head now, and I was lusting after her completely. I needed to get her out of my brain somehow, she's a married woman, dammit! So I did the only thing I knew that could possibly kill my sex drive: I began cleaning my house. Try as I might, vacuuming the peanut shells off the rug didn't help, so I mopped the bathroom floor instead. I could now see the tile on the floor again, but the boner was still there, and my brain was still fixated on Blondie. Cleaning not getting her off my wanton mind, I tried to do my taxes. I quickly found I couldn't concentrate on taxes either, the only number I could think of was 7 Pervert Drive. Well, that and the amount of times I had seen Erika White naked.

Chores and taxes not being enough to conquer my horny lust for Blondie, I decided to get out the old lotion and take care of things. Maybe that would help. But on the way to my play, I saw my two neighbors outside on the front lawn at twilight, arguing something awful. Now I've mentioned before that she is a screamer, and Erika's temper and yelling are powerful enough to shake the very foundations of the house. What they were arguing about doesn't matter, probably some marital spat of how he didn't cut the grass well enough (I say that because she kept pointing at the lawn demonstratively). After a minute of very animated discussion, she threw up her hands in display and stormed back inside, poor Roger was left shaking his head, and cursing under his breath.

I don't know if all male minds work this way, or if it is just my own selfishly perverted brain. But I was afraid that this little marital spat would put an end to any potential erotic nooky by them tonight, meaning of course that my binoculars and I would be cheated out of another fine display by my neighbors in their bedroom. A good many of you are probably shaking your heads at this and calling me a pig. But if you got to see what I get to see across the street every night, you'd think this way too!

With these selfish thoughts in mind, I went and scraped together some leftovers from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator (the only one that had any food on it, so I didn't have a lot of choices here). After dispatching with this spartan dinner, I was now convinced there would be no nooky across the street for me to watch. So I decided I might finally catch up on that thing called sports which I had so neglected because of Blondie's nightly shows. So on my way to the TV to watch some baseball, I was astounded to see my neighbors' bedroom light on. Quickly reaching for the binocs and a chair, I then essayed to figure out if there was anything worth watching - in their bedroom window I mean, not on my television!

My neighbors over at 7 Pervert Drive are consistent if nothing else: some form of sex all the time. I'd have thought by the view before me that they hadn't just had an enormous fight on the front lawn. She was sitting clothed on the edge of the bed while he stood right in front of her, pants pulled down, wanking away furiously. At times she would start feeling his balls, or reaching behind for his ass. This little show didn't take long, and it ended up with a very nice facial. She just looked up at him with a wicked smile, and licked her lips. They both walked out of the bedroom, and turned off the lights. This one sided quickie done, a mere two minutes later his car was leaving the driveway. He left her home alone, just like last night.

Seconds later the phone rang. It was Erika. She said she just got to checking her mail, and realized the mailman had put "some of your stuff in my box." Her exact words. I would love to put my stuff in Blondie's box! She asked me to come over and pick it up. On my way over it dawned on me that she was asking me to come over when Lucky SOB was out. Ideas raced through my head as to why. She had just watched her husband jerk off, and received a facial out of it, but hadn't been satisfied herself. Was she calling me over to get something started? She was a married woman. It was one thing doing stuff with the curtains open while the other watched, but quite another thing sleeping with my neighbor's wife! So as I crossed the street I mulled this over with caution.

As soon as she opened the door, I realized it was nothing of the sort. How very well scripted this little exhibitionist episode was on their part. There she was standing at the doorway, wearing the same clothes as before, without a bra, nipples poking out. But on top of that, she had never bothered cleaning her husband's ejaculate off her face! It had cleared up and most had run down her face, but I could still see it, and smell it. Blobs of it had begun soaking into her top in noticeable puddles. To say the least I was speechless. She knew I had watched her getting the facial from my window; now she was letting me see the results up close, which also afforded her the chance to get a good look at my reaction.

Some women don't seem to understand why guys are so into giving women facials. I have no idea either, outside of saying it just looks so incredibly hot! The fact that a woman just let some guy shoot his male fluid all over her pretty face is so erotic. And now seeing it on Erika's face and clothes up close had me speechless. Once again acting with pure nonchalance, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary sprayed all over her face, she let me gawk for a few moments - and gawk I did. Then she handed me my mail with a calm smile, my hands trembling as I grabbed it from her. As soon as I had my mail, she abruptly ended the show by saying goodnight and closing the door. Not a word exchanged about what was on her face, played just the way she wanted. Her mood the entire time so calm, I was convinced she must be a professional actress.

With a raging hard on again in my pants, I raced back home. From my window I espied her bedroom light turn on, and she paced around a bit, sperm still all over her face, obviously showing it off to me again. Finally she got a tissue, and facing the window slowly wiped it off her face and chest. Then standing right next to the window, Blondie picked up some lotion and began applying it to her fingers the same suggestive way she had done earlier when I was in their house. This was clearly a message to me. So I stood up, and turned on the bedroom light. No sooner did my light turn on, then hers went off. With her hall light on I could see her silhouette by the window. That was my cue.

Having just had her show me her facial up close and in person, I was too turned on to drag this out for her in a slow tease. I quickly stripped like the horny guy I was, and hastily grabbed for the lotion. My dick was dripping pre-cum before the pants even hit the floor. Lathering up my hand, I grabbed my cock and instantly started jerking off, knowing she was at the window watching me. After a minute of this show, I was interrupted by the phone again. I picked it up and to my surprise found Erika on the other end!

"Hello, Mark, sorry to bother you again," she began matter of factly, as if she wasn't at that very moment watching me stroke myself, "I was just wondering what with this mail being placed in the wrong boxes, if this sort of thing happens often? I'd like to see if we could get that addressed with the postal service if it's been a problem in the past."

Put yourself in my position. This woman just coaxed you into masturbating in front of your window so she could watch. One minute after you start wanking for her, she calls on the phone to talk about something else. What was I supposed to do here, stop stroking and cover up, or keep going? This exhibitionist stuff is a very touchy thing, living on the edge of excitement at the risk of getting in serious trouble. Why would she call me while watching me wank? For as horny as I had been a second ago, I went limp dicked over this puzzling question, which instant flaccidness I knew she could see. She had me in her power here. I finally assumed she just wanted to heighten this little game of hers by talking to me while watching me masturbate. So I started stroking my dick again until it grew full to size, as I tried to answer her question and keep this conversation going. Talking with her while stroking was a very erotic concept! The one thing about being a voyeur, is that you don't hear the sounds of sex. Now that she had called, she could obviously hear the squishy stroking sounds and the tone of arousal in my voice.

And so there I stood in front of the window, masturbating for a woman across the way who was also listening to me doing it. Over the course of our phone conversation she never once alluded to what I was doing to myself in front of my window, and never commented on the masturbatory sounds that she was obviously hearing over the phone. Erika was proving once again to be an expert at the subtle nuance. By not speaking about the cum on her face, or me sitting there in plain sight masturbating for her while we talked on the phone, neither of us was admitting it was happening. And that's what made it all the more erotic.

As I started to get closer to orgasm, it of course became more labored for me to talk and pay attention to what she was saying. She could sense it, and quite by intention started asking questions that required longer answers from me than just yes and no. I struggled through a few answers like that, but I was on the verge of coming. She timed it perfectly, because right as I was about to cum, I heard the obvious sound of a vibrator turning on, held right by the phone so she knew I could hear it. A second later the sound grew fainter, and I heard a quiet moan come from her lips. There in the darkness she was putting the vibrator on her clit, knowing that I couldn't see her, but could hear her. One more sigh from her and I exploded. Even though I knew she was watching me jerk off, had called me just to hear me jerk off, and knew I was on the verge of orgasm, I felt guilty about making a bunch of orgasmic grunts over the phone, fearing I'd come across as a perverted pig. So I tried my best, half successful, to stifle my noises. But the sounds that did slip out coupled by her perfect view of me from her window gave away my orgasm. She certainly couldn't have missed my sperm flying out.

There was a ten second pause on both our ends until she hastily said, "I'm sorry, I have another call coming in Mark, nice talking with you."

With that, she abruptly hung up. Her bedroom light did not go on, but I still saw her silhouette at the window. It was clear she was masturbating there in the dark, knowing I knew what she was doing, but frustrated that I couldn't actually see it. What a tease! Standing there naked myself with cum all over my hand, I merely made a show of cleaning myself up with the tissues, then got dressed again.

The past two nights we had sort of worked out a routine that when one's light went on, the other's went off and vice versa. So figuring this is what she was waiting for, I turned mine off and grabbed the binocs, waiting to see her light turn on so I could see her playing with her vibe. But she didn't let me see. I could only see the silhouette of her frame at the window, though I could tell by her posture that she was masturbating. After a few minutes of this half show, I could see her moving around a bit more, and then walk out of the room completely. She had given me ever so bit of a show, but intentionally not enough that I could see anything. She had me in her spell, and I was hard again. It didn't occur to me until later that I should have called her back so that I could hear her getting off too.

With Blondie out of her bedroom, I passed on the idea of jerking off a second time. I was clearly playing this game by her rules. Just a minute or so after she walked out of her bedroom, I saw Roger's car pull into their driveway. The timing way too perfect, it was clear that everything which had happened since I got home was perfectly scripted by her (or them). From the mail incident, to her twice putting lotion on her fingers suggestively, to their argument in the yard, to the facial, to her showing me the facial up close, to watching and listening to me jack off. Even her masturbating in the shadows with the vibe while she knew I watched but couldn't see anything was all part of her little plan. She was teasing me with absolute expertise. I stood in awe of Erika, and in absolute lust. And she knew it.