Lisa Clarke was living the dream life. She was the twenty five year old trophy wife of a forty year old billionaire. Her stunning beauty was only exceeded by her naiveté. And that was saying something because Lisa had a face and body that models spend their life savings on to attain. Having such attributes, along with a husband willing to lavish her with anything she desired simply to keep her around, didn't require much in the way of intellect.
Perhaps it was this lack of mental prowess, or perhaps it was a general proclivity to being a recluse, that her reputation in society was indisputable: Lisa Clarke was eccentric.
Her eccentricity was the bane of every man who thought they would swoop in and save Lisa from her station in life. Well, maybe they weren't so much interested in saving her. All any man that ever laid eyes on her wanted to do was fuck her. And Lisa would have no part of it.
Or so everybody thought.
Andrew White—who despised being called Andy—lived in the house closest to Lisa and her husband. By close, I mean about a quarter mile away in an exclusive, gated community on the outskirts of town. Andrew was eighteen and his parents were merely multi-millionaires.
Lisa could not pick Andrew out in a lineup if her life depended on it. First, there was nothing extraordinary about the teenager. Second, she rarely saw him and never gave him a second thought when she did. Unfortunately for her, Andrew recognized this fact.
Andrew was brilliant. He was studying astrophysics in college after graduating from high school two years early. Astrophysics involves the physical properties of celestial objects. At the moment, Andrew was enthralled by the physical properties of the celestial object that lived next door to him.
Over the years, Andrew accumulated some pretty fancy, and expensive, telescopes. All of them were capable of having a camera attached. Not always were the telescopes pointed to the heavens from Andrew's makeshift observatory in an upstairs corner room of his parents' mansion.
Within the past year, Andrew perfected the science of aiming one particularly suitable telescope at Lisa's manor and, over a matter of weeks, determined which room was which. Just as importantly, he had an unobstructed view of her back yard.
Lisa Clarke's back yard was likely not similar to yours. Hers was a sprawling expanse of cabanas and whirlpools surrounding a massive swimming pool and acres of greenery.
Lisa always thought it was private.
The only thing that was private was Andrew's collection of thumb drives containing images of her topless or nude, sunbathing or swimming, eating or drinking. She was always alone. These pictures were not the blurry, mile-away images of movie stars you see from paparazzi in magazines. In Andrew's pictures, you could count the freckles on Lisa's chest.
Countless loads of cum were pumped into towels in that observatory as Andrew watched her. He imagined what her perfectly firm, full tits would taste like. He dreamed of his tongue sliding up and down her pussy, savoring her sweet juices. He could feel his hard cock opening her from behind as she bent over.
Thus were the statuses of eighteen year old Andrew and his twenty five year old neighbor Lisa at the time. Things were about to change.
A lesser mind than Andrew's may have missed it. But his memory was almost photographic. Besides, visitors to the mansion were so rare when the old man was out of the country that anyone driving in other than the pool cleaner and cleaning ladies was noticeable. For the same Porsche with the same male driver to appear twice in one week was the same as setting off an alarm for Andrew.
Also, the man and Lisa were never together outside of the house when he was there. If he had been a relative or business associate of the husband, they would likely go out back at some point where all other entertaining seemed to take place.
Instead, they stayed inside. That meant Andrew had to conduct a room-by-room search using the telescope. It was on the visitor's second visit that Andrew struck gold in a most unexpected place.
A room on the uppermost floor of the mansion was often ignored by Andrew because it was never used, or so it seemed. But this time he focused in on two figures moving about in the center of the room. Clearly it was Lisa and her guest.
The moment he saw them embrace, Andrew's mind began to fill with schemes. He begged them to remain in view so that he could capture as many images as he could. He nearly shouted with glee when more lights came on and he realized the walls were virtually swathed in tall mirrors.
The couple kissed and groped for over a minute. Then the man grabbed the front of Lisa's blouse and viciously ripped it open, buttons flying in all directions as Andrew watched and repeatedly hit the remote shutter button. Lisa was roughly turned in place and the man tore off her bra.
So, they were going to fuck and Andrew might or might not have an angle to see it, he thought to himself. He watched with delight as the man reached above him and pulled something down. Then Andrew saw Lisa's arm being raised and tightened into a wrist strap. Then the other arm went up. She stood there, topless, in the dead center of the room in full view.
In the mirrors, Andrew saw that she wore tight jeans. These were quickly stripped off her by the man and Lisa hung in just a pair of tiny panties, not much larger than a thong.
The man circled her, apparently talking as he moved. Andrew judged him to be about thirty, maybe a little less. He was rugged, handsome, and very athletic looking. His clothes were still on.
He tugged on Lisa's blonde hair, yanking her head back and causing her bare chest to thrust out. Andrew saw Lisa's mouth open in an exclamation of either pain or...something. Her captor lowered his mouth onto hers and smothered her in a kiss while she struggled.
Then he disappeared for a few seconds. Andrew didn't panic. The man wouldn't leave her there. In time, he returned with something in his hand and Andrew squinted to make it out. Suddenly, it thrashed across Lisa's tits and Andrew recognized the thin braided bands of a leather whip, similar to the type he'd often seen in online BDSM videos.
Andrew was fascinated as much by the expressions on Lisa's face as he was on the redness of her nipples and tits. Each subtle strike of the whip brought a new contortion of her facial features that, unmistakably, were not indicating pain alone.
His dilemma was how to capture the images of what he was witnessing while, at the same time, taking care of the huge erection growing in his shorts. An easy, temporary fix was to pull out his cock and he did that, never taking his eyes off Lisa's body and the whip assaulting it.
Andrew could see down to about her knees without using the mirrors on the wall, and down to her feet if he focused the camera on that spot. Therefore, he was able to see when the man moved the whip down to her pussy and ass. Inch by inch the man's actions began to pull her panties lower until she was exposed. Lisa writhed within her constraints the entire time until, finally, the man ripped off the last of her clothing.
Andrew lost sight of the man for a while, but hints from the mirrors told him the guy was undressing. That ultimately proved to be correct when he stepped back into Andrew's view, running his hands up and down the front of Lisa's body, and then slowly walking around her. There wasn't an inch of her body the man didn't touch at some point during the journey. By the time he was done, the man's cock was pointing up like a pole.
But it wasn't that cock that Andrew next saw against Lisa's nude frame. The man had vanished, only to show up again with a massive vibrator in his hand. It looked to Andrew like a bowling pin, the head was so big. It was that device that was used against her and Andrew could practically hear her squeals. Some of his best pictures so far included the ones of the vibrator massaging her tits and taunting her clit.
Andrew frantically pulled on his cock, thinking it totally unfair that a piece of plastic was doing what his rigid hard on could be doing. Meanwhile, Lisa squirmed and wriggled as the man smiled.
Then it was time for Andrew's money shots; time for the fleeting rapture that would haunt Lisa forever.
Lisa's secret lover moved in front of her, nothing in his hands but his own cock. He got into position. Lisa wrapped her legs around him and the man held her by the ass. Andrew captured the scene of the man's cock sliding into her pussy.
The rest was predictable and Andrew took a few seconds away from the telescope and camera to find a towel. Then he watched. The fucking was fast, furious, and entertaining. Lisa's tits bounced in delightful uniformity. The man's arm muscles bulged as he embraced her. His hips thrust forward and upward with violent regularity.
It was obvious when they simultaneously came. Andrew had seen enough porn with the audio turned down to recognize an orgasm when he saw one...or two. He held the towel in place and deposited his own cum into it in a prolonged climax, envisioning himself in the man's place, unloading into Lisa's tight little pussy.
Lisa was eventually let down. The man eventually drove away in his Porsche. Andrew had his evidence. Life was good.
The next day, when Andrew at last had the time to peruse his photos of Lisa and determine which ten or twelve he wanted to print out, he fully realized the excellence of his collection. No sane woman—and he hesitantly included Lisa in that category—could refuse listening to his offers of silence on the matter. There would be a price, of course.
