A week had gone by since Joyce had masturbated in her shower, knowing that Tom, her housemate and childhood friend, was watching. Carelessly, she had left the bathroom door ajar, so when Tom heard her anguished cries, he naturally went to investigate. He quickly realised that the noises he heard were, in fact, due to impending orgasm and not imminent death as he had first feared.
Tom knew he should have just backed out of the room; the furious motion of her dildo in and out of Joyce's pussy was not quite the scene of peril he'd anticipated. Instead, Tom stayed and silently watched; the visions he had so often formed in his mind were now a reality playing out in front of him. Before he knew it, Tom had his penis in his hand, stroking his hardened shaft as he watched the toy sliding in and out of his friend's cunt. The water cascading down and across her perfect, naked body only added to the erotic sight.
Unbeknownst to Tom, Joyce was not only aware of his presence but her arousal reaching new heights on account of it.
This newfound desire to be viewed in such a compromising situation came as a shock to Joyce. It had never occurred to her that she might get a kick out of having an audience as she played with herself. The fact that Tom believed he was watching without her knowledge only added to her excitement.
Now, a week later, Joyce had recounted the experience every day since as she toyed herself in the shower. Each time, she used more toys and more fingers, even holding the shower head firmly against her clitoris, searching for the most intense stimulation.
However, no matter how horny she was or what she tried, she couldn't replicate the earth-shattering orgasm she'd experienced with Tom's hungry eyes feasting upon her. Joyce knew she needed to feel that excitement again. The sluttiness of letting herself be watched. The thrill of being responsible for his hard, aching cock. The feeling of being so out of reach despite the close proximity.
Tom, unsurprisingly, hadn't mentioned what he'd seen to Joyce. As her desire to repeat the episode increased, so too did her want to tell him she knew. They'd interacted only fleetingly throughout the week, though, and Tom's awkwardness was both endearing and amusing in equal measure, which was enough to persuade Joyce to keep him sweating a little longer.
When Saturday morning came around, Joyce crawled out of bed, threw on her comfy dressing gown, and made her way to the kitchen. To her surprise, she found Tom already there, bacon sizzling in a pan as he buttered bread.
He greeted her cheerfully when he saw her. Almost immediately, Joyce felt a familiar tingle between her legs as she anticipated a first extended meeting with her voyeur.
Once again, she considered simply confessing but decided that, as he clearly wasn't going to own up, she would have a bit more fun before all was revealed. With Tom's back turned, attending to his bacon, Joyce opened the front of her gown, the curves of her breasts and ample cleavage exposed between the fluffy fabric.
With his back still to her, Joyce asked, "Aren't you going to offer me a sandwich? Feels the least you could do after disturbing me last week."
Tom turned to face her a little too quickly. "What do you mean?" He asked nervously. He couldn't help but notice and admire her tits, trying to steal another covert glance without blatantly staring.
"Oh, just when I was in the shower last week. I heard the front door when you returned, and it made me jump!" Colour returned to Tom's face as he assumed he'd dodged that bullet. Joyce decided to ramp it up. "Quite lucky, really, I left the bathroom door open like a fucking idiot and, well... let's just say I wasn't scrubbing my back at the time," she said with a conspiratorial raise of the eyebrows.
Tom, considering he knew exactly what she'd been up to, took a moment to realise what she meant. "Oh. Ohhh! Yeah, that was lucky then."
Tom returned to his bacon, turning off the heat and sliding it onto his bread. He seemed to have forgotten that Joyce had asked for one too. As he picked up a knife to cut his sandwich in half, Joyce slipped her dressing gown off her shoulders and let it rest around her waist. Seated behind the breakfast bar, Tom would have a clear view of her upper body when he turned back around.
All week, Joyce had thought about exposing herself again. How she wanted Tom to leer over her. How next time, when he took out his cock, she wouldn't just watch as he stroked himself but would place her own hands around it, slide it down her throat, and sigh with pleasure as it filled her sopping cunt.
"Oh, right. So you wouldn't have wanted to see that if you could then, no?!"
Tom could feel his heart beating in his chest, yet that was nothing compared to the throbbing of his penis as he recalled the sight of Joyce naked in the shower. Turning to face her, with his erection bulging in his pants, Tom was unsure as to how to respond. As his gaze slowly lifted from her bare chest, their eyes met; the devious smile looking back at him finally clicked in his brain. "You knew I was watching, didn't you?"
"I might have had an inkling." Joyce's eyes were burning with lust. Her nipples stood firm, and, hidden from Tom's view, she gently slid a finger between her wet, puffy lips.
"Ahh, right. Shit. So you, er, saw what I was doing as well? Why aren't you pissed off?" Tom asked, genuinely confused.
"Because it's horny as fuck. Tell me you've not been wanking yourself off thinking about it all week because I fucking have."
There wasn't any need to answer, which was fortunate for Tom, who seemed to have lost the ability to speak.
Joyce stood up and untied the rope around her waist, letting her dressing gown fall to the floor. She stood unashamedly naked, allowing Tom a moment to admire her perfection, no shower glass to cloud the view this time.
Joyce took him by the hand and led him silently to her bedroom, closing the door behind them. The half-pulled curtains let in just enough light; the sunlight which woke her last week was now hidden behind thick grey clouds.
She let go of Tom's hand, leaving him in the middle of her room as she moved towards her bed. Kneeling across the far side of her bed, Joyce deliberately stuck her arse in the air as she reached into her bedside table. Tom had a perfect view of her toned arse and the delightful sight of her pussy, already wet all over from touching herself in the kitchen.
Her pubic hair was beginning to grow back with short, wiry strands appearing in the week since she shaved. Tom's cock was straining for release. The sight so turned him on, his lifelong friend no longer sweet and innocent but a filthy attention-loving minx; it was all he could do to stare in awe.
As Joyce turned back to face him, he recognised the purple vibrator she held in her hand as the one he had watched her use so expertly in the shower. Laying flat on her back across the bed, Joyce spread her legs. A filthy smile spread across her face as she revelled in the opportunity to perform for Tom again.
"Stroke your cock as I fuck my pussy." She demanded, running a finger along her slit, spreading the wetness all around.
Tom didn't argue; her authoritative tone was enough to ensure compliance. He stripped down to his boxer shorts, the head of his hardened cock poking through the buttonhole.
Joyce pressed the toy against her engorged clit and sighed at the immediate pleasure. "Get those boxers off. And come closer. I want to see how hard you are." She switched the vibration on, moaning deeper still as the stimulation added itself to her immense arousal at the position in which she found herself; the combination threatened to overwhelm her instantly.
Tom obeyed her instructions again, dropping his underwear to the floor and walking to her bedside. He sat facing her, linking his legs between Joyce's, as both admired the unrestricted view of the other pleasuring themselves. For Joyce, the opportunity to once again be watched as she masturbated felt so illicit, so naughty. It was this sharing of something meant to be so private which excited her so much.
Tom wondered if this was merely an epic lucid dream, and any moment now, he would wake up in his bed, the events of the last week nothing more than a fantasy. This was the girl he had grown up with. The girl he'd had a crush on since before he knew what a crush was. He could never have imagined Joyce behaving in this way, a fact of which she had taken full advantage, issuing demands to his frazzled brain to which he unconditionally complied.
