Sweet Patric

Valerie stared out the kitchen window at her neighbour across the alley. She'd met Patrick when he'd moved in, and while he had been polite, they hadn't maintained any contact more than a smile and wave if their paths crossed. But she'd been up close to him and that face had stuck in her memory. He was so pretty.

She looked back down at her hands in the soapy water. Valerie had been married to Toby for just six months now but had started to imagine Patrick making love to her, closing her eyes tightly when Toby made his inexperienced advances; in order to see Patrick's gorgeous face. Her neighbour had long, dark curly hair, wonderfully pronounced cheekbones, the greenest eyes she'd ever seen and the plumpest, reddest, most kissable lips.

Of course she loved Toby, he adored her, but he wasn't very confident in his love making and she needed someone to take charge. She imagined that her beautiful neighbor could be that lover. Not that she'd ever really sleep with him. But could it hurt to imagine it? In her mind, he was so masterful and knew just where and how to touch her, to awaken her desire. Toby did his best, but needed guidance, and Valerie was quite often too lost in her own little fantasy to actually guide him.

She stood at the kitchen sink, slowly washing up their tea things, staring out of the window, straight into Patrick's kitchen window. Her neighbour had been up and about early today, and had driven off, looking very cheerful, then gone all day. As she rinsed off the dishes his car pulled up. He had someone with him and Valerie craned her neck to see. It was ok. It was another guy. Quite a bit shorter, sandy haired, stocky build and as he looked about him, he looked straight through her window. He smiled, showing beautiful straight, white teeth and dark brown eyes.

Valerie was curious and prolonged the washing up. Her heart sank as the soapy water cooled. She watched them carry box after box into the house, laughing and smiling all the while. They were moving in together. She watched them in their kitchen, surrounded by boxes of possessions, as they embraced.

She felt sick, like she'd been betrayed. How could he? She pulled out the plug impulsively, splashing herself. She dried her hands quickly and rushed upstairs, tears running down her cheeks.

She knew she was being silly, and had intended to throw herself on the bed and have a good cry, but instead blew her nose and looked out of the window. This gave her a good view into into his living room and across to his bedroom. There was a teddy bear sitting on the floor by her window (a Valentine's Day present from Toby) and she took great delight in kicking it clear across the room. She leaned on the window sill, her jaw rigid and her teeth grinding.

Her perfect lover was gay. That was just perfect. Even in her fantasies she could get no relief.

She saw them upstairs. "Her" Patrick was pulling the other one into the bedroom by the hand. Valerie had not switched the light on and was unseen. She had on occasions watched him in his bedroom, catching a glimpse of his chest, before his curtains were shut. But this time the curtains remained opened, her view unfettered.

She watched as they undressed each other, slowly and carefully, as if they were unwrapping precious things. They kissed often, and deeply, their hands in each others' hair. The sandy haired one grabbed a handful of Patrick's abundant hair, tilting his head back and kissing his throat. She could practically feel the pressure on her throat and imagined Toby's teeth gently biting; unconsciously her hand went to her throat and she caressed herself gently. She saw a bottle of champagne being opened; maybe even heard the cork popping. They drank a toast -- both in their boxers. Patrick held the other's face in his hands and she imagined the endearments he was softly saying; he stroked his face and they kissed again. Sighing, she drew her curtain.

The days passed but Valerie couldn't get the two men across the way off her mind. That Saturday morning, their regular morning for sex, Valerie found herself fantasizing about her neighbours, about their touch, burning to know what had come next that night.

Toby didn't notice, he thought that his sexual prowess had spiked up the way she moaned as she came. From that moment on, Valerie had a plan. She wanted to see them together, to see everything they did with each other as lovers.

She found excuses to spend time in the bedroom in the evenings, always with the lights off, curtains almost closed. She soon learned their typical schedule, but was frustrated that they remembered to draw the curtains each night. She usually managed to catch them as they were getting ready for bed; showering each other with affection as new lovers might, exchanging tender kisses for minutes at a time before breaking apart to continue their preparations for bed. And this included shutting out the outside world and Valerie's prying eyes. She sometimes imagined that they caught sight of her lurking in her window and ducked back quickly out of view. They both, (the newcomer was called Warren -- he'd introduced himself one morning; with a smile, a wink and a handshake), still exchanged pleasantries with her, so she didn't think she'd been rumbled.

Three weeks later, on the verge of giving up hope, she saw Patrick lighting candles around the bedroom, clad only in red satin boxers and a white tee shirt. She hurried to shut the bedroom door and stripped off her jeans. She settled in the window chair and watched as Warren came into the room with a bottle of champagne and some nice tall glasses. There were bunches of roses on one of their bedside tables and she watched entranced as Warren took the head of one of them and scattered the petals onto the bed. Valerie sighed, she thought it was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen. Apparently Patrick was pretty taken with the idea too, as he took Warren by the shoulders and pushed him gently back onto the bed. He was already shirtless and Valerie breathed in deeply as if she could smell those crushed flower petals as they mashed against his firm muscular tanned body.

Patrick lay on top, kissing him deeply, running his hand through Warren's hair, and then sat back to remove his T shirt. He looked towards the window and Valerie felt a jolt through her as she swore she saw him wink directly at her. Her heart beat so fast and she felt her already flushed face get even hotter. She felt a surge of sexual excitement run through her; accompanied by a feeling of mortification; but her need was greater than her capacity for shame. They broke off their kissing to open the champagne and toast each other and Valerie was certain that Patrick had also raised his glass in her direction. Her sexual frustration and the possibility that this performance was partly for her benefit caused a low moan to escape her throat and her hands to slide down between her thighs.

Warren pulled Patrick's red silk boxers down and Valerie inhaled sharply as his impressive erection disappeared into Warren's mouth. Valerie was torn between concentrating on the look of ecstasy on Patrick's face and the sight of his penis playing peek-a-boo. She squeezed her thighs together hard and increased the pressure of her hands against her clitoris, closing her eyes momentarily. She came to and snapped them open, willing her orgasm away for now.

Patrick was having difficulty, swaying as his lover expertly sucked his cock. Valerie saw the glistening shaft disappear completely into Warren's mouth. He must be deepthroating him! she thought her mind in a fever, imagining that she was the one kneeling down.

She giggled to herself. She'd never liked sucking her lover and Toby had stopped asking her for it. But with Patrick, she amazingly found herself craving the feeling of the soft skin, the hot hardness, the growing taste of his cum. Shaking off the warm pleasure of the thought, she looked to them again.

Warren was standing now kissing his lover. Patrick's erection had not flagged so it looked like he hadn't come yet. Valerie let her fingers move against herself, widening and deepening her pleasure as she watched, transfixed.

Patrick gently urged Warren on to the bed. The young man complied, lying down naked, like he was posing for a painting. Patrick picked something up and then climbed on to the bed behind Warren. Placing a hand on Warren's hip, his other hand moved to Warren's arse, gently caressing him. Warren was smiling and shifting a little under the pleasurable stimulation. Valerie saw his own penis erect, disappearing to be pressed against the bed.

Patrick's hands moved, stroking Warren's thighs, his lower back, and all over his arse. Finally, Warren said something and Patrick leaned back up. He stroked his cock slowly looking down at his lover and then his hands got busy with lubricating his lover. Valerie watched breathless at the care and time Patrick took, all the while his own cock not losing a bit of arousal.

Finally, they were ready and Patrick leaned down across Warren's back. One hand held his cock and guided it, placing it to enter his lover. Again, Valerie was convinced that Patrick looked up at her, even moving a little to give her a complete view.

.... and then he entered Warren. It took a minute until she lost sight of Patrick's beautiful member, his hips at last pressed firmly against Warren's arse. She looked at Warren's face and saw perfect pleasure there. Patrick was holding him, caressing him, saying soft endearments.

As she saw Patrick begin to thrust and withdraw, she could hold back no longer. Her fingers moved briskly between her legs, letting her arousal rush higher and higher. The last image she had was of Patrick, his body a beautiful tableau of straining muscles as he came in his lover. Valerie's eyes shut as her own orgasm swept over her.