The Man Watched Me

Being Watched.

I perform for and fall in love with my voyeur.

The floor to ceiling window on my first floor flat looks across a small communal garden to a fence beyond which there is a golf course. There's a row of trees and bushes covering most of the end of the garden with a gap of six feet or so through which I can see onto the course. It's a pleasant view with the rolling green fairways and in the distance a lake and more trees, poplars and silver birch, I think. Running along the other side of the fence on the golf course there's a footpath that's used mostly by ramblers and dog walkers.

One evening just as dusk was falling, I stood looking out of the window and a man with a dog appeared in the gap. He looked up the garden and at me. I looked back. He stood staring for a few moments and I moved backwards into the room. I poured myself a glass of white wine and returned to the window. He was still looking and saw me but made no indication or sign of greeting.

'Sod it,' I thought. 'Why should I move away, it's my view. Isn't it?'

He didn't move and we stared at each other for a few moments until his dog came bounding up and together, they moved away and out of sight.

I didn't think any more about it until three or four days later when it happened again. Once more it was dusk and I was looking out of the window with just a low wattage uplighter on in the far corner of the room from the window so, effectively, the light was behind me but as it was shining upwards it did not reflect onto the window and hamper my view but it probably made me more visible from the outside.

It was eerie. One moment I was looking through the gap across the golf course out to the lake and then the next there he was looking straight at me and I was looking at him. His sudden appearance startled me and made me jump, but I held my position and we stared at each other. He was of average height with brown hair and slim. Rather nondescript looking he did, though have an air of confidence no, more assurance about him though not arrogance or cockiness. How on earth I drew those conclusions at probably fifty or sixty feet I don't know? Probably they were more impressions than facts.

I guess we stared at each other for a couple of minutes when again I walked away from the window, across the room and poured a glass of wine. I toyed with switching the uplighter off but for some reason decided to keep it on knowing full well that it lit me up. I took the wine, red this time back to the window. He was still there. He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head slightly to his left, my right. I raised my glass and a slight smile formed on his lips.

When his dog, a golden retriever came ambling up to him a couple of minutes later, he raised his hand in a slight wave and was gone. I stood there for a few minutes trying to work out what was happening and coming to terms with my feelings that, I was amazed to realise included being mildly aroused.

The next evening, a Friday, I had been for a drink after work and was home later than usual. When I went to the window, he was already standing looking at the flats. He nodded when I appeared. I smiled and we stood looking at each other. As it was later and a little murkier, I realised the uplighter wasn't on so I went across the room, switched it on and returned to the window. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up, presumably for turning the light on. That made me feel good and I smiled. I felt more relaxed this time, he didn't seem to represent a threat and indeed, seemed to be a nicely turned out reasonably good-looking man. Probably about my age, forty-five, he looked to be the sort of guy I would drink with at the pub or go to watch football with, maybe even sleep with. I did my usual wine trick and he smiled broadly when I returned to the window with the half full glass. Lifting his hand up as though holding a glass he toasted me; I returned that and he leaned forward in a slight bow. We stood looking at each other for a few moments and then his dog ran up, he waved, turned and was gone.

I went to the kitchen to prepare a meal thinking about him. I couldn't get him out of my mind but couldn't understand why I couldn't. I was feeling rather tingly, a little bit like one does with a potential lover as the anticipation of what might happen gets to you. But nothing was going to happen, was it?

I was out Saturday evening and he didn't appear on the Sunday, obviously having different dog walking habits at weekends. That made me think that he probably did a dog walk when he got home from work and that made me try to work out why? Most dogs get walked in the mornings or late evenings. The conclusion I came to was that he lived alone with the dog so no partner. For some reason that made me feel good.

My expectations on the Monday evening were higher than usual. I wore a pair of blue jeans, rather tight all round and a white tee-shirt outside the jeans instead of the usual work trousers and white dress shirt. Going to the window a little earlier than usual my heart pounded when he was waiting for me and I smiled to myself as I had washed my hair just as if I were going on a date with him. He gave me a big smile and raised his hand in greeting. I smiled back and also waved. After a couple of minutes, I got the wine and we toasted each other.

I didn't work out what he was doing when he started lifting and dropping his head. Then I got it. He was exaggerating looking up and down my body, which sent little shivers through me. He directed his gaze upwards looking at my face and then moved it downwards until it was focused on my feet. Slowly he raised it until it was, or more to the point I imagined it was, staring at my midriff, maybe my bulge, which I realised was stirring. I was, I realised becoming aroused and I found myself arching my back and thus, pushing it towards him. He smiled and nodded his head several times and mouthed 'thank you' to me and then was gone.

I didn't go to the kitchen to prepare my evening meal but instead I found myself in my bedroom, stripping off and masturbating thinking about my man at the bottom of the garden.

I was on edge all the next day. I was looking forward to seeing him, wondering what would happen and what we would do? What did I mean I kept telling myself by 'what would we do? What could we do?' I was becoming obsessed with a stranger who just looked at me, waited for his dog and then walked off. I had no idea who he was, where he lived and what were his circumstances. I thought of getting in my car after we had stared at each other and following him when he came off the golf course, but that seemed against the spirit of our 'game' if that was what it was. Was it a game? I had no idea, but more and more his staring and my showing were in my mind. It was becoming more serious, more intense, and more oh I don't know but it was getting to me. I began looking forward to it and I knew that without doubt an underlying aspect was sexual. I became aroused when he stared at me and I became, possibly even more so, when I thought about it later.

I was now regularly masturbating about him. At the time I had no partner. I had been divorced from Kelly my gorgeous wife for just over a year and my long-term friend with benefits, who was the cause of the divorce had been transferred with his wife and four children to the USA and there were no other candidates for taking his place or sexual prospects on my radar. Maybe it was the lack of sex that promoted my interest in the voyeur at the end of the garden or maybe it was a desire to exhibit myself to a stranger in such circumstances? Who knows, I certainly didn't?

I knew that I had exhibitionist tendencies for I revelled in removing my towel by the jacuzzi at the male, and for that read gay or bi, spa, as guys stared at me. And how I so enjoyed being naked there as others ogled me and even watched as I went down on a guy or as one sucked me.

We were starting to communicate. Not verbally, still no word had been uttered and only the odd one had been mouthed. It was by facial expressions, hand movements and body language. We smiled more and he made it obvious that he was ogling my body. He indicated for me to turn round, to bend over, both forward and back and to turn sideways. And I did, willingly, perhaps almost eagerly.

I had started 'dressing' for him. During the day, thinking about what I 'would wear for him; skimpier clothes, gym gear, shorts and tighter jeans.

He was arriving earlier which was necessary as the days were shortening and staying a little longer, ten to fifteen minutes rather than the earlier five to ten.

Throughout the day he would come into my mind and my entire focus was on our 'meeting' in the evening. I knew that I was becoming obsessed. Not so much with him as a person but with the meeting. I knew that he was controlling and directing me, but I didn't know how or why I was letting him do that.

From his gestures and movements, I knew he wanted more. More of me. To see more of me, for me to show him more or what? Fuck knows I didn't as I had never had a voyeur seduce me before!

One evening after he had gone and I had left my 'viewing platform' I went to the bedroom and started to undress. I had removed my short-sleeved, black, silk shirt that I had left almost open with only a couple of buttons done up, and was about to take the tight, white denim jeans off when I stopped. I went back into the lounge and, although it was too dark now to see anything I looked to where I knew the gap to be wondering if he was there. Of course, I knew that he wouldn't be as, indeed, nobody was there nor, as far as I could make out on the golf course either.

Just beyond hedge and trees the footpath runs round the back of a green some twenty yards or so past it. Hence, as most golfers rarely hit through a green unless they are pretty good or terrible I saw very few golfers in the area where my man looked at me. I did worry at times that other dog walkers or the occasional rambler would look past him and see me when putting on a show and might report me, but in a way that simply added to the thrill.

I moved closer to the window. With the light behind me I guessed that had he have been there he would have seen clearly my now bare chest in the black shirt. Staring into the darkness pretty, but not completely, certain that there was nobody there I undid the button on the waist of the, slightly too, tight trousers that I had worn especially for my watcher, I slid the zip down and looking at my reflection in the window I slipped them down and off.

In just the open silk shirt and a pair of tight, black CKs I looked out to where he would be if he were there and imagined him looking at me. I felt my cock hardening as I went to touch myself. But then I lost my confidence and turning I walked away from the window and into the bedroom.

I used the floor to ceiling mirror as the substitute for my voyeur. Staring intently at myself I slid the shirt off and gazed, ridiculously lustfully given I was alone, at the clear outline of my cock inside the tight pants. Half wishing I had kept more of Kelly's panties I slid them off and, for some reason as it was not my usual masturbating practice I sank to the floor and lay there my hands squeezing and caressing my manboobs and my body. I spread my legs and my hand went down to find that shaft of such pleasure. It took little time after finding that and pumping it slowly but meaningfully to roar my mind and body to a massive orgasm brought about by the nameless man at the end of the garden.

That night I slept with him!

He was now staying longer, staring longer and looking longer at me as I stood closer to the window with the light behind me illustrating myself more clearly to him. Just like in a love affair, after two weeks each day that passed, each 'date' we had we went further.

Again, just like in an affair he had been suggesting that we do go further. He had held the lapel of his jacket and pulled it open. He had held his hands at his waist and reached down his legs and as if pushing his trousers down. I hadn't understood at first so I had shaken my head and raised my eyebrows. Like a new lover trying to get to a man's sexual parts, he persisted smiling. Then I got it, I understood what he was doing and what he wanted. That evening when it hit me and after he had left, I masturbated twice cumming very heavily both times.

Could I do it, do what he asked, what he wanted and what, reluctantly but eagerly, I realised I wanted as well? My arousal when he ogled me had been increasing by the day. I so looked forward to those moments when silently across the length of the garden we, in our way, made love. No fuck it, not made love that's romantic bollocks, we had sex, fucked, screwed shagged and simply just had each other. Well at least in our imaginations we did.

Before he left that evening, he'd held his hands just beneath his waist as though they were cupping and fondling his penis. Seeing him do that made it feel as if he was holding mine.

That gave me the idea.

The next afternoon I showered, washed and dried my longish but not overly so blonde hair and slid into a pair of black with white markings, cycling shorts that I had bought in a fit of ambition when I started to cycle to work. On top, I wore a white, silky sleeveless top that some called a tank and others saw as being similar to an athlete's singlet or vest. I remained barefooted.

I knew that my appearance was rather slutty and quite obviously raunchy but that seemed appropriate for the occasion and is what some boy friends like now and then.

After wrapping a large, white, fluffy towel round my shoulders around my shoulders and chest, switching the up lighter on and pouring a glass of wine I went to the window and looked out. Yes, he was there and that made my pulses race. He was going to see more for I was going to flaunt my body at him. I hadn't decided just how much or what I was going to do but as he now asked me to let him see me from numerous angles, he would inevitably see a lot of me. The shorts were skin-tight that I knew from posing in front of the mirror before coming on stage accentuated the roundness of my buttocks and bum and the fullness of my bulge, the top was thin and clingy emphasising the indentations of my pronounced, rock-hard nipples.

Standing staring at him I felt my arousal increasing. As his gaze so obviously roamed over my body it became stronger. Touching his shoulder as if it were my towel, he raised his eyebrows as if saying. 'Take it off.' With my heart pounding I held his gaze but did nothing for a moment or two. I watched him turn away from me and back sending me a clear message. Slowly, I turned round so that my bottom was in his direct line of sight. I looked over my shoulder and he gave me a thumbs up and bent forward almost to ninety degrees at the waist. I got the message and replicated that position. After holding it for a few moments, I straightened up and looked over my shoulder and saw that he was giving me the thumbs up with one hand and holding his crotch with the other and was smiling and nodding. This encouraged and reassured me that I was doing what he wanted as well as what I did and that I was not making a fool of myself. Still with my back to him I turned my head away from him and fiddled my now full erection from the confines of the shorts so that it reared straight up my flat stomach. Slowly I unravelled the towel and dropped it on the floor beside me. Then I turned round and revelled in the feelings I got as his eyes took in the sight indicating that I was very aroused.

It was a thrill, a big one, a very big one both to see his reaction and to have the surge of exhibitionist sensations roar through me. It was so like those times at the gay saunas when I had dropped my towel prior to going into the jacuzzi or the pool as several guys looked on. The buzz as they saw my semi was amazing and I had wanted to be fucked. And that's precisely what I wanted right now; to be fucked. A part of me wanted to open the window and ask him to come in and do just that, but I knew I couldn't and wouldn't and instead cupped my breasts in the thin top then lifted that up and presented my quite hairy and toned chest to him. Smiling, he clapped his hands and then pressed his thumb and forefinger together several time in a pinching movement as he pursed his lips into a kiss. I pinched my nipple and kissed him back then I turned away and went to my bedroom and laid on the bed.

I closed my eyes. Not to sleep but to think and wonder, and plan, and fantasise. I knew my voyeur was taking me over. He and what we were doing were consuming me and I was becoming more and more obsessed. I still, though, could not work out why I was so attracted to exposing myself to a man I had never met nor probably ever would. Why I wanted to flaunt my body at him, let him see my chest, my breasts, my nipples, my bottom, my stomach and the outline of my erect cock? Why even as a lay there I was imagining going onto my balcony and stripping off so I was naked and he would see my erect cock. As my hands, with no obvious instructions from my brain found my cock and balls under the smooth, shiny material of the cycling shorts and fondled them so lovingly my mind had me sitting on my haunches naked, my legs as far open as they would go whilst he inspected my most private places.

I rather surprised myself to find my shorts were still on, I felt naked and wanted to be like that; I was so into thinking about him and pleasuring both of us that I had forgotten I was still wearing them. But somehow and for some unfathomable reason that seemed fine. It added to the sordidness of me masturbating after flaunting myself at my stranger, the horniness of me doing it fully clothed and the sluttishness of me not wearing underwear. I toyed with putting my hand inside the shorts but again it seemed more in keeping if I rubbed myself from outside and that's precisely what I did. Through the silky top I pinched and pulled my nipples and squeezed and fondled my breasts and through the lycra moulded to my stomach, arse and legs I rubbed and stimulated my cock and balls and fingered my arse pushing the material a little way inside me. I came very heavily indeed.

Just as in a traditional love affair it became inevitable that I would show him my body. Wordlessly I agreed with my alter ego to expose my entire body including my cock to him soon. They had become in many ways the focal point of our show. Every time I performed for him his gaze certainly focused on my bulge and so far, unseen to him cock, well at least I felt it did, but who can really tell from that distance? However, it's not the point whether his gaze did or didn't the real point is that I felt it did and I played to that. I arched my back and I thrust my lower torso towards him. The tops I chose were thin so that my hardened nipples made such obvious indentations that he would be sure to see them as, like women do, I pinched and pulled them imagining it was his teeth and lips doing that. But would we, could we stop there? Just like two lovers in real life the silent questions between us were: would I let him undress me and would I let him fuck me?

Although only a minor consideration, I knew it would be pretty safe exposing myself with him there or not. All the time we had been playing we had not been interrupted by anyone else either on the footpath or the golf course so it was unlikely we would in the future. Also, none of my neighbours in the flats either side above or below could see me though they could see him. I had smiled when it first occurred to me that some of them might could also be flashing at him and maybe it wasn't me he was ogling and gesticulating at? Fuck could there be a woman playing him as well?