The Lone Window (M/F. peep.mast)


     The night air was brisk as he walked down the sidewalk.  He had been
working late and the time once again had gotten away from him.. Usually at home
at this hour working diligently at his desk trying to add flavor to each and
every story he wrote.  His mind raced now with thoughts and ideas on his newest
piece of fiction.  As a novelist he preferred to write from experience but this
small portion of the book was a bit beyond what he himself had been privy to.
     The soft light that illuminated the street flickered and then the popping
sound right before it filtered out caused him to jump.  The cloud cover that
was obviously there allowed for no lighting from the moon or stars.  The only
bit of light that was visible was owned by the back window of a small cottage
that he had passed every day for the last 5 years.  The occupant of the home
was a somewhat dowdy looking woman that seemed to care little for her
appearance.  The very few times he had seen her he had been cordial but she had
quickly averted her head as if eye contact would actually sear her.
     Perhaps on another day.. The thought would not have entered his mind but
today... thinking only of the novel he persuaded himself it would give him an
idea what a man would feel like when peering into the window of a stranger. 
And she was little more than a stranger.  He tiptoed to the side of the house. 
His heart was pounding so rapidly he was sure of an ensuing heart attack.  And
he marked it in his mental diary that this burst of adrenaline must be part of
the intrigue.       Every night sound reverberated in his head and echoed three
times as loudly as normal.... he was sure that the crunching of leaves beneath
his feet was bound to give his presence away and stepped slowly... waiting
after each step for that yell of capture.
     After minutes that seemed like interminable hours he reached the window
and was gratified to see that he could peer in easily..one more reason to be
thankful for his genetic make-up that pushed him over the six foot margin. But
he was not prepared for what he saw behind the window.  Standing in front of a
mirror was the woman.  He blinked several times as if adjusting the lens of a
camera and indeed the sight was to be ingrained in his mind for some time to
come.
     The dowdy woman stood like an angel in gossamer of white.  Her hair
unloosened from the strict bun she always wore flowed freely to her waist. The
soft candle light in the room picked up highlights of burnt red as the chestnut
mane tumbled in waves.  The glimmer of light silhouetted the woman's form
beneath the gown.  Her ample breasts hung freely and the nipples protruded
slightly as they strained against the light fabric.  Her waist though not
minuscule was still clearly defined and as she turned he could make out the
triangular thatch of chestnut hair that topped her rounded thighs.  
     As she looked at her self in the mirror her hands crossed over her chest
and rested on the upper arm opposite the hand.  She let her hands glide down
and then back up again as if warming herself against a chill.  Then as her
hands continued to warm he could sense the palpable change in her.  Her eyes
closed and her body began to sway to some imagined tune.  She turned left and
right slowly and with each movement the gown caught her form and outlined it
further.  His breath caught in his throat and his mouth watered.  He knew he
had enough to write this portion of his novel and should turn to go but he
could not.  He was locked in place... her siren swaying hypnotizing him.
     She stopped suddenly and eyes again facing the mirror he watched as her
hand reached to her breast and surrounded the nipple.  She examined
both...letting the fabric pull taunt across .... from his vantage point he
could see the actual nipple and the mirrored reflection.  He felt the stirring
in his loins and wished it were his hands cupping and allowing the fabric to be
pulled tightly for accentuation.  
     The beads of moisture on his forehead spoke volumes of his little hold on
composure.  Was it the anonymity or the idea of watching her as she thought
herself to be all alone that stirred him to this height of passion so
quickly...of which he was uncertain.  He only knew he wanted to watch.....
wanted to follow her intent to whatever end it would come.       Her right hand
moved down her abdomen and came to rest on that previously seen mound.  He
thought she was finished as she touched briefly then let loose of the gown.  He
waited anxiously..willing her to continue.  She grabbed the gown in her hands
and began bunching it up little by little..exposing more and more of her
thighs.....he realized with a jolt that he was holding his breath when with the
final lift she allowed him unfettered sight of her womanly treasures.  His
exhale caused a mist to form on the window and he felt the panic of discovery. 
He could make out her form still and realized he was not found out as she
examined herself completely in the mirror.  
     In the next instant the gown was completely removed and she stood naked
before him.  Her beauty was nondescript and possibly evident merely because of
her naturalness........ her seemingly unawareness of self-consciousness.   His
composure minimal at best was threatening to unravel.  She sat then..on the
floor..still facing the mirror legs bent at the knees... spread openly.  She
leaned back on her elbows and allowed her head to fall back.  In this languid
position she continued her onslaught of self discovery.  His hand naturally
went to between his legs..almost instinctively.  His own mounting desire raging
beneath his pants.  
     His eyes never left her...for fear of missing some small nuance of touch
and he wanted to lap up everything.  She reached forward..letting her eyes once
again follow her movements in the mirror.  Her fingers breeched the soft
protective hair covering her venus mound.  As she opened herself to reflection
he could make out the shadings of pink and mauve and where his mouth had been
watering now was completely dry.  His need became palpable as the throbbing in
his groin signaled an almost spontaneous eruption.  Her small fingers found
there destination and with the knowledge of self began to rub in a slow
circular pattern.  Her desire was evident as she arched her hips up to the
mirror and once again her head fell back only this time it was to stay there in
that state of oblivion.
     He watched without blinking... staring as she delved her finger deep
within her only to bring it out again damp with her moisture.  Her body began
to gyrate....her hips up in the air...supported only by her feet ...her moans
became louder and louder...she rubbed..faster then slower and faster
again......until ...with the power of humanity her body found sweet
release..her primal scream symbolizing the current that flowed thru her.  She
stayed there suspended in orgasm.   Her hair sweeping the floor behind her..her
body poised in supplication to some unknown deity above her.... she then fell
back to the floor in exhaustion.  As her climax had mounted he felt the
swelling and exploding of his own seed powerfully overtake him. He muffled his
sound still knowing somewhere in the recesses of his mind that what he was
doing was unethical... and self preservation saved him.
     He looked down briefly and could only find pleasure in the wetness that
now spread across the front of him.  In that brief moment he looked back..and
the woman stood again...slipping the gown over her head.... she gathered the
candle..turned to the window ......smiled and snuffed out the light.