“Norman! Lily!” she called to her two Great Pyrenees, each of whom in turn rolled over lazily in their sleep and stood up, stretching, staggering towards her and the back kitchen door leading to the yard. The yard was fully fenced, private, with great fir trees and a maple sheltering it from prying eyes, and so she opened the door and stepped out into the darkness, the impossibly large white forms of the dogs following close behind her. The back porch light clicked on, bathing her in a halo of light, but had she even noticed, she wouldn’t have cared--no one to see her, no one to see the pale curves of her ass or the slight sheen of sweat decorating her neck and the swell of her breasts above her bra.
Next door, he rolled over in his sleep as her motion-detecting back porch light clicked on. Oh. Oh my God, he thought, leaping from his bed and drawing open the curtains to peer out of his darkened bedroom through the open window. There. There she was. His angel of the past few restless nights, his unknowing angel. Fuck. Tonight she was nearly naked, last night she had been wearing at least a black lace negligee. Now, everything he had been imagining, been stroking himself to, was suddenly on full display through the space in the branches of one of the fir trees in her backyard.
His right hand fell immediately to his cock, already hard with anticipation. She was walking around the yard now, her pedicured feet--God! what he would give to kiss those feet--ensconced in a pair of slightly heeled black thong sandals. Stroking his cock, now struggling to free itself of his boxers, he watched as she bent over, back to her silent observer, to pick up a toy for one of the dogs. And oh dear God, when she bent over, her round, come-hither ass was on full and absolute display. It was as if she knew, somehow, that he was there, as if she was intentionally tempting him.
He hastily pulled off his boxers, already wet with precum, stroking himself harder and faster, his eyes never leaving her ass, her long legs, the curves of her hips. Just then, her back porch light clicked off, and just as suddenly, and to his absolute horror, he realised that the glow from his hallway light, now seemingly lighting up the room like a horrible searchlight, backlit him, making him (or so it seemed to him) glaringly obvious to any viewer who happened to look up at that moment.
And look up she did. He froze in a combination of fear and anticipation, his right hand still on his cock, his left hand gripping the windowsill. She raised her left hand and slowly waved and then...then a sly smile seemed to cross her face. Was it his imagination? Yes, that was it. It was his imagination. Any second now she would scream and run back into her house.
But no...no, she was definitely waving. Smiling up at him. Oh. Oh my God. He panicked, briefly, sure that she knew what he was doing.
“Hey! Good to see you!”
Her voice rang through the cool night, soft and soothing, as if she were out there fully dressed, as if there was nothing amiss about him standing, naked (in her view) from the waist up, in his window, watching her.
“Come down! It’s much cooler out here!”
There it was. An invitation. He hurried to pull on a pair of pyjama pants, hoping his erection would subside before he could get outside. He practically tripped, running so fast in his bare feet downstairs, flying out his back door, running across the cool grass, to the fence. The dogs barely even looked up; she clearly wasn’t at all alarmed by his presence, and so neither were the dogs. He peered over the fence.
“Um, hi. I’m Jon.”
His words...why couldn’t he have thought of something clever to say? Anything but what he had just said, anything to impress this woman who had haunted his dreams the past few nights.
She laughed, a high, wonderful laugh that wrapped him in warmth and made his mind go directly to making her laugh like that whilst he was between her legs, pulling those black and pink lace panties down.
“Amy. Come on, there’s a gate just over to your left, I’ve some Riesling in the fridge, wouldn’t mind the company.”
She seemed completely unaware, or at least uncaring, about her state of undress. She walked to the gate, those beautiful breasts and hips swaying. He heard her fumbling with the latch, and then suddenly, the gate creaked open and he was within a foot of her radiant beauty. He couldn’t help himself, his eyes falling to her breasts, her belly, the triangle where her thighs met.
“You’ve been watching me.”
A statement, not a question. Not an accusation, either, though. His cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his pyjama pants, eager to hear more, his mouth eager to taste her Riesling and oh God, so eager to taste anything else she had to offer. She stepped closer, whispering now.
“I like being watched, Jon.”
He could’ve sworn that she could see his heart literally skip a beat, or four, at these words. She was watching him, waiting for...what? A reaction? His breathing changed involuntary, and he was quite sure that even in the darkness, she could see his twitching, hard cock and other, less noticeable signs of arousal, like his rapidly dilating pupils. Her next words, though, tossed him right over the edge of the cliff into the abyss of absolute infatuation.
“I like that you watch me, Jon.