My Precious Neighbor

The next step required another risky wicket. "I want to ask you something but I don't want you to get angry and slam the door on me and take away this sight I'm privileged to enjoy." That was a carefully crafted sentence, delivered with all of the sincerity I could muster, and calculated to further my aims to get this lovely creature some needed relief, a number of times, and absolutely from me, intimately. She didn't say anything but was clearly awaiting my question. "Would you consider going in and taking off your bra so that I could see your gorgeous nipples better through your dress? Please?"

"Is that what you meant before when you said that you liked what you were thinking?" she asked me.

"That's part of it, Nancy. Will you do it?"

She didn't answer, but in another moment she turned away and went into the little bathroom next to where she was standing. In somewhere between three minutes and 100 hours she came back. And now I could easily see the darker areas that defined her nipples and a button at the top of her dress that had been buttoned before was now unbuttoned. Life is good! She stood allowing my inspection. Waiting.

"Would you go back to what you were doing again for me?" As if eager to get back to that activity herself, but with no discernible change in her intense observation of my face, her hands quickly returned to their task. Clearly her palms found it easier to massage the undersides of her breasts based on the fluid movement of those lovely orbs under the light material. And now her finger tips easily surrounded her nipples, even pulling them out away from her body periodically. Oh, they swelled so nicely. If only I could wiggle my nose and make the dress disappear. Finally I asked her, "Does that feel as good to you as it looks to me?"

"Yes, it feels good, partly because you're watching me. I can't really believe I'm doing this in front of God and everybody. But I don't know how it looks to you." A straight line if I've ever heard one. And, boy, did I have a number of responses planned.

"No one in the world can see you except me. Not from the street, nor the back yards. Any one who looked over the back fence would see me standing here at the screen door talking to someone, but they couldn't see through the screen at this angle to determine who it was." Now that I could be sure that Nancy realized the total privacy of her show, I felt better. "Furthermore, I'm very glad that playing with your breasts feels good to you. You deserve to feel good a lot." How could any woman fail to find that a pleasing sentence? Continuing, I said, "And I would rather think that my watching you would add to your feelings, not detract from them." Long pause, but the nipple play continued unabated. Once in a while her eyes would slowly close, then reopen. At those moments I made little movements to get closer to her without it becoming obvious that the gap between us was closing. I eventually wanted to be about two feet away from her. With her elevated position in the house, my straight-ahead view was about at her collar bone level. Perfect for all that I hoped to accomplish in this first try.

"Nancy?" She looked back at my face again and made some little sound of recognition. "Would you reach inside your top and touch your bare nipple?" She nodded, and undid the obvious button that would allow her access and reached inside her dress with her hand. Oh, it looked nice. Timing things as well as I could, the next time she closed and then opened her eyes she caught me adjusting myself. Her eyes instantly dropped to my crotch, and I pulled my hand away quickly as if I was startled to have been caught. She pulled her hand out of the top of her dress and opened the button above and the button below the one she had already opened. Now when she reinserted her hand to play with her nipple, the top of her dress opened easily. I would say it gaped open except that from straight ahead of her, I didn't get any better view. But I hoped to improve that soon.

Added to her closing her eyes periodically was now a movement. She was squeezing muscles in her abdomen in some manner, which caused visible movement of her hips. Yes, yes, yes. The next time she closed and opened her eyes I again adjusted myself, taking longer than the last time. Of course I was fixated on what her hands were doing so I wouldn't have known she was watching me, would I? When I finally looked back up at her face she was looking at mine, intently. "I want to see what your hand is doing inside your dress," I sort of croaked.

"I thought you could see. Through my dress."

Aha! The game is afoot. Now she was becoming the temptress she had every right to believe she was. Staying in part I bumblingly said, "But if you could turn a little I could see your hand on your nipple. Not through the dress, I mean, but . . . inside the dress . . . your bare hand on your bare nipple . . . where you unbuttoned it."

Turning almost enough she asked, "Like this, Tim?" Before I could answer she moved more and said, "Or like this?" After I nodded, she continued with, "Is this what you were thinking earlier, Tim? Tell me what you were thinking about."

Sometimes a plan has to take a back seat to plain old-fashioned voyeurism. Her breast was scrumptious looking. Her nipple was quite stiff and she kept tweaking it. I should ask her to wet her fingers. Eventually I had to get my hands and my mouth on her. I would do everything I knew how to do to drive her crazy with lust. She pulled her hand out but made sure her dress stayed open for me. What a beautiful breast. Then her hand reappeared in my line of view and she went back to her nipple. Damn. She had wet her fingers. One of us must be telepathic. Now her nipple really sat up smartly.