I knew it was wrong to watch him. But while alone in my room at night, I found myself sitting in the darkness and gazing at his house.

He kept the windows wide open, as if inviting my stare, and I had a perfect view of his illuminated bedroom. My new neighbor was around forty, and though he lived alone, a woman frequently visited him in the evenings. She had long brown hair, the same shade as my own, and he seemed to enjoy taking it down before they made love. While watching them, I patted my own wavy hair, absently wondering if I should grow it out.

Over the course of several weeks, I'd grown curious about his lady visitor. She wasn't a girlfriend, I decided, for she stayed only long enough for a drink and a fuck. Sometimes, she was still lingering over a glass of wine when my neighbor dropped to his knees and buried his face between her thighs.

During the day, he dressed in office attire, his work hours similar to mine. I knew I'd been a horrible neighbor, neglecting to introduce myself when he first moved in. But the act of making small talk was almost painful to me, and I avoided it whenever possible. My bookkeeping job offered me a lot of time to myself; long ago, I'd decided it was the perfect career. At thirty-seven, I still lived with my father in the house where I'd grown up. It was the house my mother chose to leave when I was a teenager. She'd fallen in love with an old friend, and the two of them decided to make a new life together far away from this town. I hadn't seen her since.

I wondered if my neighbor was like the man who'd stolen my mother away from me. That thought made me resentful, but not resentful enough to keep from watching him. He was sandy-haired and broad-shouldered. I liked his clean-shaven, everyday-man look. Beneath his clothes, which he was always quick to shed, his body was strong but softening a little at his midsection. When he strode naked around his bedroom, I could vaguely make out the shape and length of his cock. It seemed perfectly average, yet he wielded it like a tool for pleasure.

He and his lover were noisy during sex. In my chair by the window, I watched as she knelt on the bed, spreading herself wide for him. He eased into her, so gently at first, but they would soon fuck like wild creatures. I was a silent witness to their lust, growing wet enough to saturate my panties. My faint moans were drowned out by the woman's cries as he held fast to her hips and drove himself deep inside her again and again. Her breasts, larger than mine, bounced with each thrust. Even when their fierce coupling appeared almost painful, the woman's voice would carry through the night: "Harder!" He claimed her pussy like a man possessed, but she was the one in control, demanding more until he was covered in sweat, trying to satisfy her.

After she finally came with a wail, collapsing on the bed, he would turn her over and settle between her thighs once more, his cock relentless. She lay in a kind of blissful stupor as he continued rutting away. My God, the man could last!

And if I pressed my thighs tightly together and rocked back and forth in my chair, I could bring about my own orgasm. Sometimes, I slipped a hand into my nightgown to tease a nipple while imagining it was my neighbor touching me. I wasn't a virgin, but many years had passed since I'd made love, and it had never been with such intensity.

My neighbor's lover would shamelessly beg for his cum, extending her tongue while he pumped away at his dick. He seemed to love marking her in such a primal way. I often managed to reach my climax just as he did; it thrilled me to know our bodies were simultaneously shuddering, both of us in the grip of ecstasy.

The woman loved his semen, readily swallowing what landed on her tongue. With her fingers, she would gather his seed from her breasts and then lick them clean. She seemed utterly filthy then, and my face grew hot from watching her. Yet I wondered how he tasted.

Afterward, he would hold her in his arms for a while. I sometimes heard their soft laughter as they talked.

Did he love her? It was hard to say. He clearly loved the sex they had. And though he was almost brutal in fucking her, his mouth was inevitably tender as he gave her a deep kiss.

It was no wonder she kept coming back. I figured she was probably married, available to him only for sex, and during their time together, he made her feel more desired than she ever had before.

I looked forward to their passionate evenings. While my father sat in the living room with the television blaring, I retreated to my bedroom to watch the lovers next door. Even after the woman was gone and my neighbor had turned off the lights, their lovemaking remained vivid in my mind. And I thought I was safe, hidden away in the darkness. Because of my shyness, my sexual experience was limited to just one partner whom I'd briefly dated in my early twenties. What was the harm in engaging in a bit of voyeuristic pleasure now? No one would ever know.

That's what I told myself until an evening in late spring, when the temperature was unseasonably cool. Too cool to keep my window open, but I was so eager to hear my neighbor and his lover that I sat bundled up in a blanket. My gaze was riveted to his bedroom window, which was also open.

He finally came on the woman's tits, and I shuddered silently from my own orgasm. My fingers worked between my spread thighs, furiously rubbing my clit through my panties. Even as the chill deepened in my room, I felt hot with arousal.

I was still languidly touching myself when I saw my neighbor rise from the bed and stroll toward the window. My brow furrowed in confusion; he'd never done this before. While his lover relaxed, wearing a lazy smile, he stood at the window and stretched. Allowing my gaze to roam over the man's naked body, I noticed his cock was slow to soften.

It was then that he leaned forward and looked directly at me, flashing a grin.

Gasping, I ducked down in my chair in a pitiful attempt to hide. With a hand cupped over my mouth, I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, filling the sudden quiet. He couldn't possibly know I'd been watching, I tried to assure myself.

But his expression had been so... knowing! I felt like I'd been spotted; he'd called me out with that grin, though he'd never said a word. Had I grown careless while spying on him? Was I too loud at some point? Had I coughed or sneezed, or even moaned too passionately while climaxing? Maybe I had lingered too long in my chair after he'd turned off his light and shut the window. Perhaps he'd caught a glimpse of my nightgown, its white sleeve signaling him like a flag.

I swore I would never watch him again. I'd keep the window shut and the blinds closed from now on. Though I would miss these evenings, it was far too risky to continue. After all, I had to live next to this man for the foreseeable future.

I slept poorly that night, waking at the slightest sound. The following day, I was tired but on edge. As the hours dragged by at my job, I looked forward to going home and climbing into bed. Right after dinner, I promised myself.

My plans were dashed when I pulled into my driveway after work. Looking over at my neighbor's house, my eyes widened as I saw him striding toward me, still wearing a suit and tie. My face burned, and my mouth grew dry from a rush of anxiety. Yet I calmly got out of the car, clutching my purse before me like a shield.

The man called out a friendly greeting, and I relaxed the slightest bit. While he closed the distance between us, I even managed a polite smile. 

"I don't believe we've met," he said, standing just a couple of feet away from me. "I'm Lance." His eyes, a lighter shade of brown than my own, were filled with warmth.

I took his offered hand and gave it a brief shake. "I'm Violet. I'm so sorry I haven't come over to welcome you to the neighborhood. It's just that I've been..." I had no excuse for my behavior except for chronic shyness, and I figured he could discern that much about me right away.

"No need to apologize," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you now." He maintained that easy smile. My own widened, for I was sure he hadn't noticed me at my window last night, or on any other night. I'd read too much into his grin the evening before.

As we stood in my driveway, I made a point to ask Lance about himself. He briefly talked about his job, and I provided a few details about mine. When our conversation reached a lull, I hurried to bring it to an end. "Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Lance." Taking a step toward my house, I added, "I hope we have a chance to talk again soon."

In what seemed like a single, fluid movement, he stepped in front of me, effectively blocking my path. I looked up at him in growing alarm and saw that his smile had faded.

He leaned toward me, his lips close to my ear. "You've been watching me."

"I haven't," I immediately blurted out.

"You have." His voice was low and insistent. I stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. "And I want to know why," he went on. "Is it simply to give yourself some excitement?"

I stammered a reply. "I don't know what you're talking about." Again, I tried to move forward. If I could just get past him...

Lance held up a hand, his palm only inches from my left breast. "Don't insult my intelligence by lying to me, Violet. I want to know if you plan to make trouble for me, or for my friend."

Even in my panic, I understood the significance of his words. The woman who visited him at night was almost certainly married, and neither of them wanted their affair discovered. "I don't want to cause trouble for anyone!" I cried. Finally, I forced myself to look at him again. "Please, my father could come to the door at any moment." I had no idea how I would explain why Lance stood so near and addressed me in such an intimate way.

That sly grin appeared on his face. It was the same one he'd given me the previous night. "Ah, you have secrets, too, then. You don't want your father to know that you love watching your neighbor fuck?"

I opened my mouth to offer another feeble protest, but Lance shook his head. "The truth is," he murmured, "I enjoy being watched. It gets me so fucking hard to know you're there in your room, playing with your pussy while I put on a show for you."

"You're disgusting!" I snapped. I wouldn't stand here in my own yard and be taunted by this man.

Lance dropped his hand, but before I could escape, he gently took hold of my arm. I was stunned into silence as he pulled me close and whispered, "Come over tonight, after she's gone. I'll leave the back door unlocked, so you can come into the kitchen and then to my room down the hall."

I turned my face away, refusing to look at him. "Absolutely not!"

"I won't touch you, unless you want me to." His words were like a seductive caress. "You can sit and watch me all you like. I'll stroke my cock, and I'll come for you." I heard his breathing quicken a little. "That would get you so wet, wouldn't it? You can touch yourself as well."

I jerked out of his grasp, and this time, he let me go. Only when I reached the door did he call, "See you tonight, Violet."

Once I was safely inside, I gave my father a quick hello before hurrying to my room. I didn't want him to see how flustered I was. As I set down my purse and keys, I noticed my hands were shaking. I could still hear Lance offering that filthy invitation; it was like his voice was seared into my memory.

Pressing a hand to my cheek, I felt the heat radiating from my skin. I had to calm down, I told myself. My gaze drifted to the window. I'd left the blinds closed that morning, and I didn't dare open them now. It was because of my stupid behavior that I was forced to hide in this room.

My mood was sour while I heated up leftovers for dinner. My father didn't help matters by complaining about the meal. "There's too much salt in this," he said with a grimace.

"It's the same as what we ate for dinner last night, and you had no problem with it then," I snapped. 

He raised an eyebrow. "What's with you tonight, Violet?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "It's just been a long day. I'm going to turn in early tonight."

"Good. Maybe you'll wake up on the right side of the bed tomorrow."

I bit back a retort, and we ate in silence. Afterward, I washed the dishes while Dad watched the news in the living room. Once the kitchen was tidy, I went to kiss his cheek in a gesture of silent apology. Then I wished him a good night.

Alone in my room, I changed into my nightgown. All the while, I stayed away from the window facing Lance's house. As I lay in bed, trying to read a book, my indignation increased. Outside, the night was warm, and my room had grown stuffy. It wasn't fair that I had to keep my window closed and spend a miserable night sweating!

Before I could stop myself, I got up and strode across the room. As I lifted the blinds, my face was defiant. The moment I opened the window, a cool breeze greeted me. Lance's bedroom window was open as well, but I didn't see him.

Then I heard the woman's laugh. Freezing like a startled animal, I waited for the two of them to drift into sight. As they stood next to his bed, sharing a fervent kiss, I remembered that I could easily be seen in my own room's lamplight, and I hurried to turn it off. 

"Go to bed," I whispered to myself in the sudden darkness.

But I didn't go to bed. No, I ventured to my chair by the window and sat down. Already, I was breathing hard and fast, my heart racing in anticipation.

Lance didn't glance my way. Instead, he stripped his lover of her clothes, his hands impatient. Grinning at his need, she allowed him to pull her onto the bed. He was bare-chested but still wore his pants. Was he teasing me? I wondered. Could he possibly know how much I loved seeing his cock?

He took his time kissing the woman's large breasts, and I teased my nipples while watching him suckle hers. When he finally settled between her thighs, I grew wetter, as if I were the one he was about to taste.

As Lance devoured her pussy, his hands slid upward to cup her breasts. Though I refused to touch myself, I couldn't stop my hips from rocking, with my thighs pressed tightly together. The woman's guttural moans carried to me, and she began writhing so fiercely that he had to hold her still.

I came just as she did. For an instant, I was tempted to cry out and let them both know I was shamelessly watching, but I resisted that insane impulse, biting my bottom lip as my body quaked.

Lance still hadn't given any indication that he was aware of my presence. I thought he might not want to risk drawing his lover's attention to me. The woman barely had time to recover from her orgasm before he guided her into the position he preferred. My eyes widened as he turned her sideways on the bed, so she was facing me while on her hands and knees. With her head lifted, she stared out into the night.

Lance hurriedly took off the rest of his clothes, then knelt behind the woman. While facing me as well, he moved to enter her, and they both groaned at that first deep thrust. I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward, desperate to witness every second of their coupling.

He fucked her so hard that she struggled to keep herself upright. It was a raw, feral act, and I could hear their bodies slapping together. The woman made a sound like a sob, lowering her head so her hair shielded her face. Yet she begged him not to stop. "Yes, yes, wreck my pussy!" she growled. "I want to feel this fuck for days!"

My own pussy ached, as if in sympathy. I was dripping wet, and my clit throbbed with arousal. Still, I sat almost motionless, my stare fixed on Lance's face.

Finally, he looked in my direction. Even as his hips continued their merciless pumping, he flashed that wicked grin. A delicious shiver snaked through my body, and this time, I made no attempt to hide.

I knew then that I wouldn't be able to resist going to him. I was certain he knew it, too.