“Look, Claire, there he is!”

“Ooo, I see what you mean, Annie. He is rather gorgeous. And you say he often walks around like that in his flat? In just his boxer shorts?”

“Yes, and he must know that anyone of us in these flats across the road can see him.”

“Has he seen you watching?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I usually stay behind the curtain. I don’t want him to think I’m spying on him.”

“But you are spying," you say. "Maybe you just don’t want him to see you and so you close the curtains.”

I blush. That’s probably more like the truth.

You look at him again, discreetly, staying hidden. “Have you seen the bulge in his boxers, Annie? That’s quite something he’s got tucked in there. Has he ever taken them off? In the window, I mean.”

You know me too well, know what I like. “Not so far. Or not when I’ve been watching anyway.”

“I bet he works out. Look at those muscles. I’d love to feel them.”

“I want to see his cock.”

You pretend to look shocked, although I know you’d like to see it too. Then I see that look come over your face, the one that means you’ve had an idea. “Why don’t you give him a show, too? Let him see you in your scanties?”

“No way! He’ll probably start wanking or something.”

“Well, yes,” you say, as if that was your idea all along; which it probably was.

“And why me anyway? Why don’t you do it? ”

You shrug. “He’s your neighbour. But I will if you won’t.”

Sod that, I’m not having you say I was too scared to show a guy my bra and knickers. “Okay, you’re on. So should I get undressed now?”

“Maybe just take your top off? Walk around in your bra. That should get him looking. Then you could take your jeans off. You have got knickers on today, haven’t you?”

I smile and nod. These jeans are a bit itchy, so it’s not a commando day. “He is still there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but hurry up.”

Something crosses my mind. “What if he’s gay?”

“What if he is? We’ll soon know, he’ll just ignore you. Now stop making excuses and get that top off.”

Fair point. Quickly, I slip off my t-shirt. I’m wearing a quite skimpy black bra, which nicely shows off my firm little tits. I’m glad I’ve been keeping up my gym appointments, too. My tummy is pretty trim, nothing to be ashamed of there.

I casually walk in front of the window. I deliberately don’t look across at him; I don’t want him to think I’m doing this for his benefit. You’re still out of sight, behind the curtain.

“Ooo, Annie, he’s seen you. He’s looking!”

I turn my back on the window, move sideways, then back again, letting him get a good look at me from all angles. I catch your eye: you’re loving this.

“Go on,” you hiss, “Get your jeans off.”

I stand to undo the buttons, slowly, just enough to show the front of my knickers. I can’t stop myself looking across... fuck it, I can’t see him.

“He’s gone, Claire.”

“No he hasn’t, he’s just by the curtain. He’s hiding too. Keep going, you’ve got him.”

Now I feel safe to look across to his flat. Claire’s right; I can see him, staying in the shadows. Bad boy, spying on me like that!

I pause, then take hold of my jeans and pull them down, as casually as I can. I’m wearing matching black panties, rather small and lacy, which fit snugly round my bum and over my plump pubic mound.

There’s a squawk of excitement from you. “Oh Annie, look, can you see? He’s got his hand in his boxers.”

Oh goodness, you’re right. I can see his hand moving. He’s playing with himself stroking his dick. At least he must like what he sees.

I bend over, letting him see my cute bum. I’ve never met anyone who can resist my firm round cheeks. I know you can’t.

“Go on Annie, let him see them properly. Take your panties off. And your bra. Show him everything.”

“No way, Claire! I’m not letting him see my tits. Or my pussy.”

“You have to. Look, he’s still rubbing. Don’t you want to see him get his dick out?”

Of course I do. And anyway, getting down to my undies is getting me aroused. Still in front of the window, I slip a hand inside my knickers and feel the warm wetness between my legs. The tip of one finger I slide inside my vagina, and a dribble of juice runs out. I’m enjoying this more than I’d care to admit.

I decide to get rid of my bra first, leave the best until last. I reach behind my back and find the catch. Here goes. With an expert twist, I undo it and, in one casual movement, let the straps slip down my arms. And there they are. Hello boys!

I turn nonchalantly, watching my bare breasts bounce gently with the movement. They’re firm and perky, and my dark nipples stand out, already hard with excitement. I look out of the window. He’s still there, his hand buried in his shorts. By this time he must know I’ve seen him, but he’s not moving. He must've guessed what’s going on.

I squeeze my boobs, and blow him a kiss, letting him know I’ve seen him. I make a fist, put it to my crotch and give him the well-known wanking gesture. He smiles. He gets it. He takes his hand out, grips his boxers and jiggles them down a little way.

Now he’s teasing me. I can see the dark bush of pubic hair above his dick. It’s a big rod, I can tell that much. Come on, you dirty boy, show us what you’ve got.

Luckily the teasing doesn’t last long. He pulls his boxers down, and his erection springs out. It’s a cracker, looks about eight inches, rock hard, and rearing up at about 45 degrees.

I look at you. “Satisfied, sweetie?”

“Ooo, yes! Isn’t it lovely?”

“Why don’t you come and play, too?”

“No, he’ s all yours, sweetie. I’ll just stay here and watch.”

You perch on the corner of the sofa, pull up your dress and slip off your knickers, getting ready to satisfy your very obvious need.

I look back at him, now standing in full view. He gets hold of his dick between thumb and forefinger, and pulls back the foreskin, revealing a thick purple head. He lets me get a good look. Even from here I can see it’s glistening with pre-cum.

He makes a “come on over” gesture. I shake my head; after all, we don't know each other. Besides, I’m enjoying this. It’s like flirting, but naughtier. Instead, I pull my knickers off. That’s only fair. He deserves to see the neat dark triangle of pubic hair, trimmed short and tidy.

He’s masturbating properly now, pulling on his hard dick. I rub my hand over my pubic mound, then down towards my pudenda. I can feel the heat; it’s time to give him a bit of a show. I raise one leg high and put my foot on the windowsill, so he can see the pink slit between my legs. I get two fingers ready, show them to him, then slide them over the folds of my labia before pushing them up inside my vaginal passage.

Oh heavens, I really am sopping wet up there. I can hear the schlup, schlup, schlup as my fingers thrust in and out, and I feel dribbles of juice run down over my hand. I take the fingers out and wiggle them at him, wondering if he can see the sticky moisture.

You certainly can, Claire! You’ve made yourself comfortable, your lovely long legs wide apart. One hand is strumming at your clitoris; two fingers of your other hand are inside your pussy. You stretch your slit open, letting me see the pink, wet interior. Stop trying to distract me, Claire, I want to take this all the way with him.

Still staring at me, he smiles, and puts his fingers in his mouth. I get the message, and do the same. My juices taste nice; tangy and clean. I lick my lips as I put my fingers back in my pussy, and begin to rub at my clitoris with my other hand.

It’s pretty much a race to the finish now. He’s alternating between full-on dick pumps with his fist, and gentle circling of fingers round the shiny knob. I can see beads of sweat on his chest. I’m pistoning my fingers deeper and faster into my vagina, droplets of pussy juice splashing everywhere. I wonder if I should get my vibrator, but it’s a bit late for that now.

There’s a sudden flurry of movement from him. Here we go. He stands up against the window, pointing his erection in my direction. He opens his mouth, holds his dick steady, and ejaculates. I watch as a thick loop of semen splashes against the window pane. More follows, until there are four or five gloopy strings of it running down the inside of the pane.

As I watch the last drops of semen drip from his dick, I feel myself coming. My fingers strum faster and faster at my clitoris, and then it hits me, that unique electrifying tingle. I have to steady myself on the window to stop myself collapsing. It’s a good one. I’m sweating too, and my heart is beating like crazy.

As I slowly come down from my orgasm, I take the three fingers out of my soaking pussy, and run them down my own window, leaving a trail of sticky juices. Not as spectacular as his stuff but I can smell it, sharp and fresh. I press my naked body against the glass, crushing my breasts and hard nipples. Kneeling down, I lick the smears of pussy juices off the window, then stand again and push my pelvis against the glass, trying to leave more smears directly from my sticky labia.

He’s still stroking his wilting dick, and I watch as he rubs it against the window, through the trails of semen, leaving longer trails of mess. Still breathing heavily, I stand back and run my fingers through my smears again. He’s mouthing something at me; it looks like the word “tomorrow.” I nod, and blow him another kiss, before sinking down onto the sofa next to you.

In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten about you. You’re just stroking your pussy gently, which looks very pink and aroused, as it always done when you’ve just had an orgasm. I lean over and stroke your thigh, noticing how wet and sticky you are between your legs.

“You’re such a voyeur,” I muse. “Sometimes, I think you’d rather watch than actually have sex.”

“And you’re such an exhibitionist,” you reply. “Look at the mess you’ve made on the window. I suppose I’m going to have to clean it again now.”

“Not quite yet,” I say, pulling you towards me and easing your legs apart, exposing your pink wet folds. “I want to clean you first.”