‘This is it. I’m going to do it,’ thought Jane.

‘No!’ she thought shaking her head, ‘I’m not going to do it!’

‘I’m doing it!’

As she reached into her room for the light switch she thought back to that fateful Friday night about a month ago.

She’d come home by taxi about 11:00 after a really boring monthly dinner meeting at which she’d had a few too many drinks. She’d stumbled into her bedroom without turning on any lights planning to just collapse into her bed and sleep it off.

As she’d come through the door she’d glanced out her window at the apartment building across the way from her building and seen something that stopped her dead in her tracks.

‘Oh,’ she remembered thinking as she watched a good looking man walking around in what appeared to be a bedroom dressed only in a pair of bright red Jockey briefs.

She remembered that, as she’d made her way through the bedroom to close her curtains, she’d looked around guiltily before thinking, ‘I’m alone. My light’s off. He can’t see me. In fact, no one can see me.’

The good side of her conscience had said, ‘you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right to spy on someone. How would you feel if someone spied on you?’

But then she remembered, with a smile, the bad side of her conscience argue back, ‘You didn’t plan to spy on him. It’s just a chance thing. Besides which, what’s the harm. He’s not dressed any differently than he would be on the beach or by a pool.’

She remembered standing by her window admiring his gorgeous body. She then remembered her shock as he’d stopped by the edge of his bed and, after hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, he had lowered them to stand naked.

‘Oh my God,’ she remembered thinking, ‘lookie, lookie.’

She had continued to watch as he’d then walked over to, and put his shorts into, the hamper in the corner of his room. She remembered marveling, over the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the way his penis had swayed from side to side below a small patch of pubic hair as he’d walked around his room before he’d climbed into bed and turned off his light.

Without turning on her light she’d stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed falling asleep with visions of his jiggling cock in her mind.

As she was standing just outside her bedroom door with her hand on the light switch she remembered that she’d wakened the next morning with her twisted sheets clinging moistly to her sweating body along with her damp, tangled hair.

She had lain in bed contemplating her state before she had guiltily glanced across at the apartment where she’d seen him the night before and thinking, ‘did I really see what I think I saw? Did I really see a naked guy last night?’

She remembered shaking her head and thinking, ‘No. It couldn’t have been. It must have been another one of those dreams.’

All day Saturday she’d glanced at the building across the way trying to confirm that she’d really seen what she thought she’d seen. As it became later and later, she remembered thinking, ‘I must have been dreaming. I didn’t really see a naked guy last night.’

It was just after the late news had started, she remembered, that a light had gone on in the apartment across the way. When she had rented it she hadn’t liked the other building being only seventy-five or eighty feet away but the rent was what she could afford.

She remembered jumping up from her chair and quickly turning off both the television and the lights in her apartment.

Standing by the door she flushed at the memory of her whisper when she’d seen him walking about his living room, ‘it’s him. It’s the same guy as last night. I didn’t dream about him.’

She had moved over to sit on her couch in stunned silence, not moving, as her eyes followed him around his apartment, as he’d gone into his bedroom, and as he stripped off his clothes to be fully nude again.

Then she remembered her shock as she’d seen him, after turning on his television and lying down on his bed, start to fondle his penis.

‘What’s he doing?’ she’d thought.

She remembered thinking, as it dawned on her, ‘Oh my God. He’s playing with himself. Is he going to masturbate? I shouldn’t watch this. I can’t watch this,’ the entire time leaning forward to get a better look.

She smiled at her memory of watching in awe as his cock grew under the caresses of his hand, as his hand began to move up and down his rigid shaft, and as, after several minutes, his hips bucked violently into the air and semen shot out of his penis.

‘Jesus. He came. He had an orgasm.’

Then, as guilt set in, she remembered blushing as she thought, ‘I shouldn’t have watched him do that. I invaded his privacy.’

Her smile grew as she remembered that over the past month she’d overcome her guilt as she’d watched him almost every night. After the first few nights she even bought a pair of binoculars so she could get an even better view.

She’d gotten to know his body – the little scar on his right shoulder, the dimples in his ass, the colic in the back of his hair – and his habits – how he brushed his teeth, how he took off his pants, and that he masturbated at every second or third day.

She’d come home tonight, after this month’s compulsory dinner meeting, drained but anxious. Tonight’s meeting had been a rather boring one where she’d been hit upon by four of the office nerds – Gerry, Jack, Graham and Frank. All of them, with the exception of Jack, had accepted her brush off gracefully and moved on.

Jack, on the other hand, had had too much to drink and wasn’t put off. He’d put his left arm around her shoulder and had tried to cajole her into coming back to his apartment for further discussions about the deal she was working on.

He’d talked to her for almost twenty minutes getting bolder and bolder with the way his body had touched her. First it was his hip against hers. Then his right thigh had brushed against her left thigh as he’s whispered something to her. He’d pretended to stumble as he had pulled away so that the side of his chest had rubbed the side of her right breast.

She’d taken it all submissively until, as he’d reached past her with his right hand to get a beer on the shelf behind her, he’d let the backs of his fingers gently rub across both her boobs.

As she’d turned towards him to ask him to stop bothering her he’d not only ended up with both arms around her neck he’d moved his right leg between her legs and ground his thigh against her crotch.

After she’d recovered from her surprise she found him blatantly staring down at her chest with a leer on his face.

As he started to say, “I thought you’d like th…” she surprised herself as she’d stomped on his right foot as she snarled, “back off bastard.”

He looked at her with both surprise and pain as he got the message and backed away. As he turned to walk away though she’d heard him mumble, “Frigid bitch. Lighten up.”

Usually meek and shy she’d been surprised herself, and a few of her coworkers who’d overheard the exchange, by her reaction.

As they’d congratulated her she had said, “I don’t know what got into me? I don’t usually lash out like that. It must have been the booze.”

Even though her coworkers had assured her that he’d had it coming she felt embarrassed by her reaction. She wasn’t as embarrassed by her actions towards Jack but by the effect his touching had had on her. When he’d brushed her boobs both her nipples had sprung to attention and when he’d ground his thigh into her crotch she’d felt a jolt of lightening lance into the core of her body.

As she’d moved around afterwards she’d had a sticky feeling in her crotch. Unsure what it was she’d gone to the bathroom and found her vaginal lips puffy and extended and a clear fluid oozing out from between them.

Each time she’d wiped herself to try and clean up the fluid, her body twitched until she’d had to stop because her vagina was just too sensitive.

Ashamed at the way her body had reacted, and sure that everyone who looked at her knew exactly what was going on, she’d left shortly afterwards.

She entered her apartment and, before turning on hers lights, looked across at his place. She saw him fully dressed sitting on a chair, facing her building, and animatedly talking on the phone.

Looking at her watch she thought, ‘10:30. It’ll be another thirty minutes to an hour before he goes to bed. With all I’ve had to drink tonight can I stay awake that long?’

As she was watching him she felt her mind drift and her visions returned. Visions of herself in crude, passionate embraces, hands pawing her, male organs penetrating her, using her, pleasuring her.

She shook her head, trying to fight free of the visions, trying desperately to ignore the heat in her loins, the swelling of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples as she thought, ‘God Jack was annoying but he certainly had an effect on me. I need another beer to calm me down.’

She returned, and sitting on a chair in the dark, continued to watch him as she sipped her beer. She found herself fidgeting – crossing and recrossing her legs, changing places on the chair, and constantly taking sips of beer. In no time she was finished the beer and found herself opening another.

As she made her way back to the chair she thought, ‘I wonder if he’d like to see me naked?’

As she sat back down on the chair her good conscience whispered, ‘No way. You can’t strip for him. Think how embarrassed you’d be.’

Her bad conscience immediately countered in a loud internal voice with, ‘Why wouldn’t he want to see you naked? He looks like a healthy male and they’re always trying to take peeks. Besides which you’ve been watching him for the last month. His shows shouldn’t go unrewarded.’

The more she sat watching him the more she convinced herself that she should do it.

As she drained her beer she got up and went into her bedroom. She put the empty bottle on her bedside table.

She was about to pull back her dark out curtains when she thought, ‘I should have sexy underwear on for this show.’

She flicked on her dresser light and pulled a red thong and matching bra out of her lingerie drawer. She quickly stripped and replaced the unimaginative, but very comfortable underwear she wore to work, before getting dressed again.

Turning off her bureau lamp she slowly pulled back her window curtains to provide him with the maximum view possible.

She walked around her room in the dark taking stock of where he’d be able to see her. After she’d figured out a routine, she left the room and stood outside.

As she reached for the light switch to start the show she thought, as she noticed her hand was shaking, ‘I need another beer to calm down.’

She got the beer and, as she took a couple of long swigs, thought, ‘you’re just procrastinating Jane. Get on with it.’

She left the unfinished beer on the counter and walked back towards her room. As she came to her doorway she peaked in and looked across and saw that he was still talking on the phone.

‘This is it. I’m going to do it,’ she thought.

‘No!’ she thought shaking her head, ‘I’m not going to do it.’

‘I’m doing it,’ she thought emphatically as she reached into her room, flicked the switch to turn on the light beside her bed and walked in.

She walked over to the dresser feeling her heart pounding like it was going to jump out of her chest. Her hand trembling slightly, she took off her watch and glanced over at his building to see if he’d seen her.

Seeing no evidence that he had, she stretched her arms over her head and did a couple of slow twists thinking, ‘if this doesn’t work how am I going to get his attention?’

As she lowered her arms she thought, ‘maybe I’m going to have to get down to my underwear for him to take notice. That’s how I noticed him the first time.’

She faced the window and, after slowly unbuttoning the front of her blouse, removed it. Seeing that she still didn’t have his attention she turned and, walking back to her closet, hung it up.

Turning back to face the window again she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought, ‘my God, what a coincidence.

I’m wearing red underwear just like he was the first time I saw him.’

She then undid the button at the top of her skirt and, after pulling down the zipper, slowly slid it over her hips and down her legs. As she straightened up she saw that she still didn’t have his attention so she turned and hung it in her closet too.

Somewhat frustrated she walked around her bedroom in her bra and panties picking up and straightening things.

Still not having any indication that he’d noticed her she stood for a second trying to think what else she could do.

She noticed her bedspread and thought, ‘I can take it off and wave it around. If waving a large white flag dressed in a bright red bra and panties doesn’t get his attention nothing will and I’ll give up.’

Making sure she was still visible in her bra and panties she pulled the bedspread off the top of the bed and started waving it around while she folded it.

After a few seconds she noticed that he was standing at his window and thought excitedly, “’I got his attention. He’s looking at me.’

As she placed the folded bedspread on her dresser she thought nervously, ‘God do I want to do this? Do I want to strip in front of this guy I don’t really know?’

She took a deep breath and thought, ‘I’ve started down this road. I can’t chicken out now,’ as she reached behind to undo the clasp of her bra.

After fumbling with the clasp a couple of times it finally came undone and she shrugged it off her shoulders and stood, facing the window and exposing her breasts to him.

She then walked over to her hamper in the corner of her room by the drapes and put it in. She walked around her room topless for a couple of minutes pretending to tidy up.

She stopped in front of her dresser and glanced over at his building using the reflection in the mirror to see if he was still watching her.

Seeing he still was she thought, ‘my God. What am I doing? Do I stop here or do I go all the way?’

As she reached across her body to straighten a picture that was stuck in the side of the mirror her forearm brushed her nipple and a shot of electricity flowed to the core of her being.

‘There’s my answer,’ she though as she turned back to face the window feeling slightly faint from the heat in her loins, the swelling of her breasts, and the hardness of her erect nipples.

She ran her hands over her breasts as she remembered seeing women do in the porno flicks she’d seen as a teenager. As her fingers ran touched her nipples she felt little jolts shock her lower tummy.

Not able to stop herself she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slid them off. She straightened up and, with her legs spread slightly stood fully exposed to him as she tossed her panties towards the hamper.

She then ran her right hand through her pubic hair to fluff it after it had been crushed all day under her panties. The sensation of her hand and the hairs standing up caused her whole pubic area to tingle and she closed her eyes as she sighed and she leaned back against the dresser.

Unconsciously, her left hand began to cup and caress her breasts while her right hand continued to massage the soft, pulpy mound between her legs.

She rubbed a finger up and down her slit, pressing against her clit as she leaned back against the dresser.

Her legs eased further and further aside as her finger rubbed harder, digging in between her cunt lips, mashing down against her sensitive clitoris.

Her head rolled from side to side and her ass was bouncing against the dresser as she humped forward against her finger.

A low groan escaped her lips, interrupting the panting flow of hissing breath. She squeezed her breasts harder, digging her fingers into the soft mounds, twisting and pulling on her nipples as her finger slowly twisted upward into her vaginal sheath.

"Oh God!" she moaned, her legs spreading further apart as she finger fucked herself.

Her head rolled slowly back and forth and her buttocks ground and mashed against the dresser as she humped her loins against her fingers.

She felt the heat rising within her, pulsing up through her body from the furnace between her legs. She felt the slickness of her body, stroked her hands across it, caressing her smooth belly as her ass cheeks slapped against the dresser.

She brought both hands up beneath her swollen breasts, cupping them, then mashing upwards and back against her ribs. Breath hissed out between clenched teeth as her rock hard nipples were ground into her palms. Her fingers dug deep furrows in the malleable flesh as she kneaded the firm meat.

Her right hand slid back down her belly and in between parted thighs, cupping her pussy mound, then dipping a finger into her cleft. She rubbed two fingers up and down her slit, sawing them between the wet, pulpy cunt lips, then her fingers curled and eased into her twat tunnel.

Her ass humped forward again as she slid the two fingers into her vagina up to the knuckles, then ground the knuckles against her clit.

Her mind was screaming at her, warning of the danger, ‘what are you doing? What are you doing?! Are you mad?’

She couldn't stop herself. Her cunt burned like an oven on high. Her head was too full of sensuous visions.

Her fingers pumped in and out, grinding over her mashed clit on each pass. Her free hand roved across her slick body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, caressing her belly, sliding behind to fondle her buttocks, then easing up through the strands of her hair as her back arched in pleasure.

Her feet slithered apart on the floor and her fingers continued pumping in and out of her moist cunt tunnel. Her buttocks grinding on the corner of the dresser.

Her eyes were glazed, yet suddenly they focused. There on the bedside table, directly across from her, was the beer bottle she’d left earlier.

She groaned and shakily stumbled to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle. She almost stopped but her excitement was too much.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed her butt against the sheets causing then to bunch up into a slight backrest.

She raised her feet, placing them beside her, and then slowly eased the narrow necked bottle into her cunt slit.

She whimpered a little in pain. Her cunt was unused to anything more than a finger, and even that seldom.

She was a virgin.

It wasn't fear that kept her that way, well, perhaps it was, but not of the usual sort.

She wasn't afraid of sex itself. Instead it was her pride and dignity that she feared for.

All during high school and college she had been propositioned by handsome young boys, and always she had rejected them out of fear of them telling.

While she’d worn revealing clothing and taken part in some pretty wild exhibitionist stunts with the “girls”, tales of her and some boy in bed would have devastated her.

She had something of a reputation with the guys of being frigid.

Nevertheless, she had educated herself about sex, at least, to the degree that she could.

She never would have dreamed of asking her parents. Her friends, while they could have helped, didn’t understand her reluctance and were therefore of little help.

Instead, she'd watched late at night, on the family's satellite dish, as lewd and obscene visions had been displayed for her disbelieving eyes.

She'd seen women on their hands and knees getting fucked and sodomized. She'd seen them avidly sucking cocks, seen them with their legs pinned back against their chest, or worse, their ankles pinned up behind their ears.

They all looked so, so, degraded, so shamed and so demeaned.

She’d always thought, ‘how could any man ever respect me if he were to see me from behind, on my knees, presenting my sex organs to him as though I were a bitch dog in heat. How could he not deem himself smugly superior as he rode me like that, or shoved my legs back and apart to pierce me with his organ?’

She could neither have talk bandied about between guys concerning her sex life, nor tolerate the humiliating positions she’d have to assume for some boy or man to mount her.

She forced more and more of the bottle up into her body, wincing a little, but unable to repress a shudder of delight, either.

A superb horsewoman, her hymen had disappeared some time ago so there was no blood. Yet still there was pain, for her unused tunnel was very, very tight.

Now almost the entire length of the bottle was up inside her. She held onto the bottom with two fingers as she rubbed her clit with her other hand.

She slowly began to pump the bottle in and out of her crotch hole. It wasn't easy. The bottle fit in there like a cork in a bottle. She had to pull very hard to slide it back out of her body, despite the wetness within herself.

It felt so hard up in her gut like that, and she groaned each time she pushed it fully into her gash.

Her legs, bent tightly at the knees, fell apart and back onto the floor. Her thigh muscles and tendons sent little signals of aching pain as they were stretched and strained.

Her breathing was coming in harsh little gasps and pants, and there were soft little sobs of excitement and dazed pleasure.

She was had got to the point where she working the bottle in and out with some speed, even approaching the forceful stroking she'd seen in the porno movies.

Her eyes were closed and in her mind she lay on her bed, legs apart, as a muscular man, with the face of the man across the way, was thrusting into her body.

Her head slid backwards as she leaned against the bunched up pillows and rolled from side to side.

Her breasts thrust outward, straining against the tight skin as she arched her back.

Her cunt gave a powerful shudder and then sent a bolt of pure electric excitement deep into her belly.

She gave a little cry of pleasure and slid her left hand up her body, caressing her flesh as it followed the contours of her body and eased up over the full round hillock of her left breast.

Her pussy was so hot she wondered why it wasn't melting the bottle, which was half buried in her crotch.

She pulled it a little ways out, then thrust back into herself.

She grunted in pained pleasure, her loins spewing fire as an orgasm approached.

She pumped the bottle in and out of her hole.

Her body shuddered and trembled as she flew upward and was caught in an orgasmic hurricane. Her body was jerking and humping and shaking on the bed as she skewered her pussy with the bottle.

Even if her parents, her grandparents, her brothers and uncles and half the office were to stare in shock, she couldn't have stopped the furious pumping motions of her hands as she soared through an incredibly powerful, prolonged orgasm.

The bottle pistoned in and out of her tight slit, her ass jerking and humping back up at it, her head thrashing from side to side as she whimpered and whined and grunted in ecstasy.

Ferocious starbursts of white and yellow and red burst before her eyes as her body convulsed in orgasmic pleasure.

Her cries, soft and almost inaudible before, were now quite audible in the quiet room. She didn't know or care who heard her as her orgasm consumed her.

She pulled her legs back, slumping even further on the bed, drawing her knees back to her chest as she savagely pounded the bottle into her boiling, fleshy cunt slit.

She arched her back again, her legs straightening, shooting out into the air.

Air puffed out between her lips, her cheeks bulging outward, then another shocking bolt of pure, white-hot pleasure seared her body.

She cried out, her legs bending and drawing back again, her hand still desperately punching the hard makeshift penis into her cunt.

Her knees were again drawn up against her and she had slumped down to such an extent that she was practically lying on the bed, her knees up above her head.

Her third spasm gave her body another harsh shake, and then spit the bottle out.

She slowly began to come back down to earth.

Her mind began to coalesce into one piece, her body stopped its twitching and shaking, and her breathing became less ragged.

‘Oh God!! What have I done?!’ she thought as her bleary eyes slowly focused.

She looked over at his building. She saw that he was still standing at his window but that he had his erect cock in his hand and there was something running down the window below it.

She closed her eyes against tears of humiliation, her skin flushing a terrible beet red.

She shakily reached over and turned off the light before pulling back the sheets and sliding between them exhausted into her bed.