Window Watched

He was watching, he was usually watching around this time. At first it had freaked her out a little. She'd noticed the glint of the binoculars in that window across the street. She had never actually seen him. Only the binoculars and the shape of a man behind them. She had bought curtains, and kept them closed most of the time, but a sick sense of curiosity had filled her. Amy had been having trouble paying the rent. She was a student, but was also working part time just to try and make ends meet. Cost of living was high and pay was low, but she was determined to make it.

This newfound audience got her thinking. Amy was a business student and a shrewd one at that. She knew all about filling a need with a product. Clearly this man had a need, and she clearly had the product to fill it, or maybe a better descriptor would be that she was the product.

Modesty or money. Ethics and profit. Amy mulled over her wicked little idea night after night. After seven such nights of pondering, she made a decision. She opened a paypal account and typed up a sign. She was careful printing it at the library the next day, worried a friend may spot her and ask questions, but no one did. The sign was simple.

"Want to watch? No worries. $200 a week. Paypal @WindowWatched. Tips welcome."

She carefully taped the sign to her window at six when she knew he'd be looking. A few minutes later her phone buzzed. A two-hundred dollar deposit had hit her account with a memo.

"Pretty sweet deal."

Good, her buyer had bitten. She opened the curtains. She was wearing her favourite, and only set of lingerie. A simple pink bra and panty set. She waved a little, then set to cooking dinner. She gently swayed her hips to her favourite songs as she cooked, knowing he would be appreciating the view.

It was a little strange, knowing she was being watched. But the extra two-hundred would make rent a lot easier to pay and meant she would be eating a lot better. She ate her dinner, watching her favourite show. She washed her dishes and sat on the couch right in front of the window to work on her homework.

Her phone buzzed again. A hundred more dollars with another memo.

"Top off please."

At least he had good manners. She carefully peeled the bra off, feeling the lacy material brush against her hard nipples. She smiled, and blushed. She felt so exposed and yet there was this feeling of pride that someone wanted to see her and was willing to pay.

She started to work on accounting, feeling her breasts sway every time she reached for her calculator. Every so often she would look over at the window and smile. He's paying, might as well give him a bit of a show. She brushed her hair back with one hand from her face, knowing the effect that had on men.

She completed her homework in record speed, eager to make a little more money off this exchange. She put her favourite not so PG movie on the TV, and grabbed one of her favourite toys. She took a deep breath to steel herself. This was her nightly routine anyway, but it was different knowing she had an audience, let alone a paying one.

She watched the woman's calming massage turn into a clit rub, then to the masseuses fingers entering her and felt her own libido becoming fired up. She inserted the toy and started a gentle vibration. It felt oh so good. Sinful in fact. She watched the video, her fingers brushing over her soaked lips, and the toy pressing on her G spot making her moan.

She lived for this time every night. Her hand started rubbing furiously at her clit, causing her to finish hard, her legs shaking like leaves in an autumn storm. She lay there for a few minutes, then started to clean up. She had just finished throwing the towel she laid on in the washer when her phone buzzed yet again. Seventy dollars.

"Get a remote control toy please. I'll pay more."

There was no way she could do that. That was definitely crossing a line. Yet the wetness between her legs was giving her another answer. Suddenly her phone buzzed again. Two-hundred more dollars.

"Great show, I'll be tuning in every night."

Now she was starting to build a real audience. She definitely needed that toy. She browsed online for hours, selecting a small collection of toys to play with. She carefully used her knowledge of website building, to build a system with a paywall. Every night she would post the remote codes on the website and they could pay to play in ten minute increments. She also signed up for a streaming service.

Amy had never intended to let it go this far, it was supposed to help pay for rent, but it was addictive. She was obsessed with the idea of being watched. She needed the audience.

The next night, she performed in her usual style, wearing mismatched panties and a bra. At the end, right before she went to bed, she posted the website and streaming service links on the window. Immediately she had two new followers. Her toys were set to arrive tomorrow, and she could feel that this new career was calling to her.

During her classes, she could hardly sit still. She was so wired and horny, thinking about performing that night. Class dragged, the hour and a half feeling like a century and a half. At last the professor dismissed them. She had gotten the notification that her package arrived a little while ago, so she raced to go pick it up.

She unboxed the toys, carefully testing each one so she knew exactly how much she could take of each before she came. She set up the camera she had bought as well. With new sheets on the bed and the camera set up, she was ready. At exactly six, she started the stream.

"Hey there, my name is Window Watched, are you ready to have some fun? I have some toys to play with. Well actually you all have some toys to play with. Just go to WindowWatched.com and we can have some fun."

She heard the comments going wild, and the toy in her pussy started to buzz with a vengeance. She squeaked loudly, leading to even more comments. The tips were rolling in fast. Suddenly the toy in her ass started as well. She was now moaning and screaming, the sensations too much to even care what the viewers were thinking.

They were relentless. The toys didn't ease up for the entire four hour stream. It was a nonstop intense sensation for Amy. She had lost track of the orgasms around number eight. She had become nothing but a screaming, wet, animal. The only thing that interrupted the pleasure turned pain was her alarm signalling her that it was ten and the stream was over. She finally managed to crawl over to the camera and in a hoarse, quiet voice, bid her viewers goodnight.

She carefully turned off each toy. Then laid there, in the puddle of her own juices, panting. She had never felt so alive or close to death. She had thankfully had the sense to put a water bottle next to her, knowing her fluids would need to be replenished. She hauled herself to the bathroom looking in the mirror. Her mascara and eyeliner were just drips running down her face, her lipstick was mostly gone, or badly smudged. She was a mess.

Next thing she checked was her bank account. She had made three-thousand dollars in one night. She immediately sent a letter of resignation to her boss, and bought a few new pairs of lingerie. She knew that her student loans were no longer going to be an issue, and worrying about rent was a thing of the past.

Her phone buzzed and lit up. A hundred dollars.

"Great show sweetheart, need a costar? Email Acrossyourstreet@mail.com. Let's make a deal."

Amy copied the email address and started a new email.

"Let's make a deal."