The Window

I yawn as I stretch my arms over my head in the middle of my bedroom after seeing that it's 9:59 p.m. What a day! I'm so tired but very happy! Today was the official end of my first semester of college. I just had my last final that I had to take, and now summer break is on, and time for me to relax. Life is good. I'm 18 and just had a fantastic first semester in college.

I'm wearing my fav pajamas for this relaxing celebration of sleep, which is a black tank top and flannel pajama bottoms. I stop in front of my mirror that is atop my desk so I can look at myself. I frown a bit and pull down on my shirt as I examine the size of my chest. I've always been top heavy, but I hoped I had stopped growing. But it sure looks like I've grown even more. I thought maybe I imagined it the tightness whenever I put on my bra, but I'm not sure I can pretend to ignore it any more. I guess it makes sense as I always look forward to removing my bra for bed.

Other than my chest, I think I look like any other average girl. I'm not a knockout, but I'm by no reasons ugly. True, I am focusing on my studies right now and not so much partying. Nor do I get dressed up or anything. I'm just a standard Latina girl, with a bit more of a chest than most. But I've become good at hiding my chest too, or else there would be nothing but stupid horny idiots trying to get my attention every hour of everyday. And I rather enjoy being known for my mind than my body. I see tons of girls at the college that use their body to get by and get perks, but I just made the Dean's List. I'm smart enough to get everything on my own.

Yawning again, I know that my parents have probably been asleep for at least an hour. It's just them and myself in the house as I decided to come home from college as soon as I could. Now I reach for the small bottle of tequila I have on my dresser and take a bare sip from it. I've been sipping on it all night as I celebrate finals being over. Not that I'm drunk or getting drunk, but I like to be relaxed and loose. My friends are all out getting plastered to celebrate, but I wasn't feeling it. Mainly because most of them would be bringing their boyfriends and it would feel like I was tagging along.

After I put the bottle back on the dresser, I gasp in surprise. I think something just walked past my window. It looked like a man. My heart bets a little as I stand there, thinking if I really saw that. I live on the bottom floor of this house while my parents live in the top floor on the other side of the house. Which means if someone did walk past my window, they had to have walked to the side of my house, between us and the neighbors. And that's just crazy. Surely, even if that happened, someone would have seen them and called the police. Things like that happen in a big city, not out in the burbs where the biggest crime that happens is letting your grass overgrow.

I start to relax as I figure that I didn't really see it. That it is my tired mind making it up as it's been pumped full of tequila. Maybe in a weird way it was my mind trying to make up a boyfriend that would, well, "make me feel good" in celebration of acing all my classes. Oh, how that would be great right now. Not that I could with my parents in the same house.

I keep looking at the window and laugh a little at how stupid I'm being. Then a man seems to materialize out of the darkness as he walks towards my window. The figure walks slow and stops feet away from my open window.

Time seems to stop as I see him there. Fear and horror fill me as my window is open, wide open. There's no screen or bars or anything blocking the outside from my room. There's nothing to stop him from coming inside.

The figure is all in darkness, yet I can see he has blue eyes. Dark blue eyes. I gulp as those eyes hold me, and I don't even see the rest of him. They seem to be full of power and strength, making me feel more scared and oddly excited than ever.

The truth of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks. There's a man looking at me outside of my window. He's looking at me. Staring at me. I want to scream, to run, to grab a weapon, but those eyes hold me. They are unlike any eyes I've ever seen and not in a good way. Those eyes look at me not as a person, but as a thing. They seem to show they don't care about me at all, that they would love to hurt me for no other reason than to hurt me. And the fact he's snuck around to the side of my house only serves as proof that this man must be completely evil. Maybe he's an escaped convict. Maybe a sexual predator. Maybe even a serial killer.

Breaking his gaze, I turn to look at my door to see how far away it is and when I do, it looks miles away. I know it is just a few feet in reality, but it might as well be in a different country for all the chance I have to reach it. Concerned, I turn back to the window and I let out a loud gasp when I see the man is now standing at my window. Right outside.

"Hello," the man says in a dark voice that shows he smokes or used to smoke a lot. When I was younger I used to watch a lot of horror movies that had the one crazy killer killing the gang of people. His voice would perfectly go in one of those movies as the killer.

"Not a smart thing to do...leaving your window open like this," the man says, looking around at the large window frame. The bottom half of him is hidden by the wall and window ceil but his upper half is completely visible. Then the man leans forward and his face comes into the dim light that my lamp casts out of the window. I see his face and can see the smile on his bearded face. I can't make out much, like if there's any scars or what not, but I can tell he's older, maybe 40 something and a very rough character.

"W-What do you want?" I ask in what I hope is a strong 'don't mess with me' voice, but I know is a scared whimper. Every part of me says to scream. To scream as loud as I can. My neighbors will hear it, along with my family. That my father will burst in with a gun or the neighbor's will call the police which will make him run off. That someone will save me. All I have to do is scream.

The man doesn't response or move after I ask what he wants. He just stands there, making me think he might be drunk or high or something. Then a shiver of fear runs up my spine as I wonder if he's thinking of what to do. If he means to hurt me. That he's thinking of all the possibilities.

All I need to say is that I'll scream and he'll run away. But I get hit with a realization. I'm not going to scream. But why not? Is it because I'm too scared? Too much of a sacredly cat? I consider that if I scream, I might make him mad, and I don't know what he might do if he gets upset. Then I remind myself that he's still outside and I could run out of the room before he manages to get in. I am not as helpless as I think I am. But a part of me, well, wants to be scared. Like, really wants to be, to the point that it's making me feel odd in a sexual manner.

"Please, don't hurt me, ok?" I finally tell him in that horrible whimper of a voice. He tilts his head after I say this in a strange way. It's almost as if he didn't think I would react like this. After a moment of looking at me like this, he nod once as if agreeing to something.

"Get a bag," the man suddenly says in an upbeat tone. "A bag?" I ask, confused as this come out of left field. "W-What type of bag?" I ask. "Any, doesn't matter," he answers calmly.

I look about and spot the reusable bag that I use when I go shopping next to my dresser. I walk to it and grab it, noticing how badly my hands are shaking when I reach for it. When I grab it, I curse myself as I've walked further away from the door.

I stand up with the bag and find that I can no longer look directly at the guy. So I stand there quiet for a moment, showing him the bag. When I do this, I can't help but feel weird. I feel a mix of fear, but also shame for not screaming or running away. And as strange as it is, I feel, well, aroused. Definitely aroused. The tingling between my legs that leads to my stomach is very strong which leads me to believe that a part of me is liking this in some dark strange way.

I like this? Why?! Why in the world would I like this? The answer to this comes at once without much thought. The fear of it, the feeling of not being in control at all, the confidence of the man that he is in complete control of everything, even my life. All of it makes me tingle in a dark and strange way.

"Open the dresser. Put ya panties in the bag, all of them," he orders with a hint of a laugh in his voice. The hint of the laugh is much like a high school bully telling his victim to do something humiliating in front of a crowd.

My mouth drops open as of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn't one of them. Put my panties in the bag? My underwear? All of them?

"A-All of them?" I ask in disbelief. "Yes," he says in a mocking manner. I'm surprised he didn't add in a 'duh bitch.' In a daze, I open the top dresser drawer, where I keep all of my panties. It's almost like he knew the exact time to do this as I just did laundry this afternoon, so all my panties are in the drawer. Slowly, with a shaking hand, I grab handfuls of my panties and put them in the bag as he watches. In roughly 30 seconds, the drawer is completely empty and all my panties are in the bag.

I then turn around towards him, and hold out the bag. In what is a truly shameful and humiliating moment I have to force myself not to smile as my arousal is building and building. I try to figure why I am smiling and it occurs to me because I know why he wants my panties. He's going to steal them. He's stealing my panties, all of them.

There's no way he can reach the bag as I am still feet away inside my room and he is still outside. Only he shakes his head as if saying "no." The way he does it makes me feel like I'm some dumb airhead girl that doesn't know what I should be doing instead of the girl that just made the dean's list.

"Now your bras," he states firmly. My mouth drops open again as this evil bastard means to steal not just all of my panties but my bras as well. But, feeling like a coward, I turn back around and open the second dresser drawer to do as he says. It's the fear that is making me do this, but I know I'm not resisting much as this dark feeling I feel is intoxicating.

So I begin to stuff the bag with my bras. And these are not cheap bras either. Most of these are custom ordered due to my, umm, bust size. I've always been top heavy. Always. And it's reached a point where if I want a truly comfortable bra, I have to custom order them. Most store bras will break apart too easily.

As I stuff a bra that cost me 80 dollars into the bag, I wonder what people will say tomorrow when I go around braless. Just like with my panties, I did laundry today and made sure they were all washed. I even went braless this afternoon to make sure. So this bastard is going to get all my bras as well. He's taking all of my undergarments except for the pair of panties I'm wearing right now.

The two drawers are now empty as all of my bras and panties are in the bag. To show this, I leave the drawers open in case he wants proof. I turn around, my head lowered, holding the bag's in both hands. A part of me hoped he might not be there any longer. That he would have run off, too scared he would be caught. But he's there, watching. And when I see him, that dark tingling between my legs gets stronger.

"Good girl," he laughs. And that laugh cuts through me, making me feel an inch tall. He's laughing at me. Laughing at the scared pathetic college girl.

"Hand the bag over," he tells me and smoothly reaches

INTO

my room with an expectant hand. Acting like he's a rattlesnake, I inch forward and hold out the bag, scared that he may grab or bite me. Once it is within range, he calmly takes the bag and looks inside of it.

I'm made to watch as he reaches in and takes a pair of my panties...and smells them. Seeing this is so humiliating as he's smelling my personal belongings. After he smells them, he looks at me with a disgusting smile that again reinforces that he's the one in control.

"I said I want all of your panties. And you are still hiding a pair," he says, lowering the bag out of sight of the window where he most likely drops it by his feet.

"N-No...that's all of them, I emptied the drawer, I swear," I tell him honestly and nervously looking at the open drawer. I gulp now as it hits home how dangerous this guy could be. What if he's a truly crazy person? The type that prays to a duck and thinks his cereal speaks to him? What if he gets violent? I mean, right now I can talk to him, but if he is crazy, I might be able to any longer. What will I do then?

"I want the ones you are wearing," he says, and I again hear the smile in his voice. To this I learn that he's not crazy at all. He's smart. Smart enough to remember what I might be wearing now. After hearing this, I close my eyes as fresh humiliation washes over me.

"In fact, why don't you remove everything you have on, alright?" He tells me, and the smile in his voice grows. A fierce wave of arousal washes over me at his words, both humiliating me and making me hot in a way I can't describe. It's a dark sort of arousal, the sort you know you shouldn't go after but it makes you feel so excited that you might have a heart attack.

"Ok," I say softly, not believing I said anything. I'm about to undress in my room while a man watches outside my window.

I turn around to show him my back. Not sure why I do this at first, but then I stop lying to myself. It's for affect. To make a show out of this. But I keep playing the part of scared little pathetic girl, which isn't a part at all. This is so maddening how I'm so incredibly scared yet love this at the same time.

My hands move down and grab the bottom of my pajama top. I lift it up, feeling more and more of my skin being exposed as I lift it upward. I feel the air on my stomach, on my lower back, then feel the shirt go up over my breasts. For a moment I struggle as I pull the shirt up and get it tangled in my hair.

The next thing I know, I've dropped my shirt and look down to I see my bare breasts out and exposed, jiggling with each breath I take. Never before have I felt so proud of my breasts. No...I shouldn't call them breasts. I should call them tits. That's what he will call them. And he's going to see them.

Next my hands grab the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I pull out on them, then pull them down, exposing my pink panties that cover my ass. As I pull them down, I can feel his eyes as he sees my bare legs as I become closer and closer to being naked. Now my pajama bottoms bunch around my ankles, where I step out of them, wearing only my panties.

My hands grab the waistband of my panties and hold for a moment. I can't believe I'm doing this. I really can't. I can't believe a crazy man is at my window, stealing my underwear and making me undress. And I can't believe how insanely hot I feel.

It's the arousal that makes me damn near yank down my panties. I meant to slowly pull them down but instead they zoom to my ankles. In a flash, I'm naked. Naked where he can see all of my backside. My bare ass, my shoulders, my back, all of it. Trembling, I step out of my panties and bend slightly to pick them up.

"Turn around and don't you even think about hiding anything," he says in a very smug voice, as if he knows he's the one in charge of the world. I gulp and put my hands behind my back. Then, slowly I start to turn, feeling my breasts swing slightly as I do. As I turn, I stare ahead, not wanting to see his face when he sees everything. Not wanting to see the look he's going to have when he sees what so few people have.

"Tsk, tsk, getting naked for strangers, not too bright of you," he says and laughs once I'm facing him completely. I keep staring forward, my face very red, feeling how his eyes go over my bare breasts and to my shaved womanhood. Or should I say over my big titties and shaved pussy. Neither of us says anything as I stand naked for him, and for anyone that might be looking in.

"Toss the panties," he tells me and motions with his hand. Doing as I'm told, I pull my hand that has the panties and toss my last pair to him. He catches them easily and pockets them as if this is a normal thing to do. His eyes look over me again, where he nods once in approval, and then shakes his head as if I'm the sick one here for showing myself.

"Now for showing a stranger ya snatch and fat tits, you gonna have to be punished. Now bitch, spread your legs, wide. Hands behind your head," he says with a tone of voice that seems to say, 'let's get this over with.'

Nearly panting with fear and arousal, I part my legs shoulder width apart. Then I spread my legs more. When I do this, I feel my pussy lips part open ever so much which is such a strange feeling in this situation. To know that he's seeing the most intimate part of me as I humiliate myself for him.

Now I lift my hands up, feeling my tits lift a tad as I do. I put my hands behind my head and interlock my fingers as if he is a cop. My breasts are arched out from this and it feels like I'm presenting my naughty bits for him to inspect. It's a horribly humiliating feeling, one that I've never felt in my life. Never have I been put in a situation like this or had to pose in a sexual manner. But at the same time, I know that I'm about to cum and I haven't even been touched. That has never once happened to me or in any story I've ever read.

Suddenly, a flash of bright light goes off. It's such a bright light that it blinds me. I want to put my hands to my eyes as they hurt, but I don't. I know if I did, he wouldn't like it. So I keep looking forward and keep my eyes open. Then another light flashes and now I have to close my eyes. When I reopen them, I can barely see anything, but I can make out the guy's outline.

"No..." I groan as I find out what he is doing. He has his cell up and is taking pictures of me like this. Naked pictures. Naked pictures of me in my own room. Naked pictures of me, tits arched out, legs spread and posing for him like a whore.

"Good girl," he says as I don't cover myself or try to stop him. More flashes go off. Picture after picture is taken.

"Bounce those basketballs you call tits," he now orders. I shudder at this as another wave of humiliation moves in a wave over me. Then I bend my knees a little and straighten them. When I do, my breasts bounce a bit. It doesn't feel good as my tits do weigh a bit. But I do it again. And again, bending my knees more to make them bounce higher.

I begin to shudder again but this time from the worst possible thing that could happen at this moment...I cum. An orgasm washes over me from bouncing my tits while being photographed. It washes over me in waves, making my entire naked body feel warm and tingly. And all this time, he takes pics of me. Takes pics of me bouncing my tits, and of me cumming, but I doubt he knows what's just happened.

The orgasm passes and my vision comes back fully. I stop the bouncing of my tits as I see him looking at his cell, swiping on all the pics he just took of me. I moan a bit as it looks as if he took at least 2 dozen pics. What is he going to do with those pics? Put them online? Share them?

"Now..." he says with an air of finality as he looks up from his cell. "Turn around," he orders. I take a deep breath as I believe he wants to take pictures of my backside now. Maybe even make me bend over so he can take pics of my snatch in a humiliating pose.

I turn around as he tells me to, feeling my breasts swing as I move fast. Knowing what he's about to do before he does it is much worse than not knowing. It's a bit like torture to be honest, which is probably what he is going for.