He is definitely there, I thought, I am sure. The window might be steamed up but I could make out his outline quite clearly. Obviously, he didn’t think I could see him, I am certain of that, as I am sure he would not want me to know he was watching me, and masturbating.


Maggie

I had had just about as much as I could take.

“What do you mean, it won’t work. Fix it!” He just stood there, that gormless expression I had seen too many times, across his face.

“Hello!” I said, “Is there anybody at home?” Still no reply. What a complete moron. I turned away and went to find the phone. Andy, for fucks sake, why aren’t you here to sort this?

An hour later I had calmed down, well, just a little, as the owner of this completely useless building company had agreed to come over and sort things. Yeh, I’ll believe that when I see it, I thought. And I knew I was being unfair to Andy, my lovely hubby.

When the “boss” arrived, he did seem to kick them into action and a couple of hours later, Liam appeared at the kitchen door to tell me the shower was now working and I should be able to use the bathroom by end of play today.

“Thank you, Liam,” and, after apologising again for what had happened, he went off to make sure the morons were doing what they were supposed to be doing.

Andy had been working day and night, for the last god knows how many weeks. And don’t get me wrong, the money was wonderful, and was paying for my new bathroom, so I couldn’t complain, other than I hadn’t seen him.

When he got home on a Friday evening, he was shattered and whilst we would have a lovely couple of days, and he would spoil me and we’d make love, Sunday evening would arrive too soon and he’d need to get ready for an early start in the morning.

All week I would miss waking up with his hand cupping my breast and his hard, thick cock tucked against my ass. As he woke up and turned over, I would caress his balls and lick the tip of his cock until he pulled me on top of him and impaled my pussy with it. My breasts would float above his mouth until he sucked one nipple in and make me explode in orgasmic delight. My spasms always made his cock fill me with ropes of his warm cum. I was daydreaming that scenario when I was brought back to reality with a voice behind me.

“How’s it all going?” I was pulling weeds in the front garden, but I knew who it would be. “Hi Sam, oh, we’re getting there, slowly,” I said, getting up to my feet and stretching out my back.

He smiled, that lovely big smile and it cheered me up.

“Fancy a beer,” I said, “I’m sure it's past six somewhere,” and a few minutes later we were sat on my porch with beers in hand. And I felt happy.

Sam 

When they had moved in next door, I wasn’t happy. Bloody Yanks I thought, just what I need next door. And in the first few weeks, from what I had heard and seen, my apprehension was fully justified. Why the fuck is everything “awesome” and what on earth does “for sure” mean? But I was just being myself, a grumpy old man, and I knew that.

Getting old isn’t fun although, as my wife used to say, the alternative is worse. But being old and lonely is not fun. I won’t bore you with the details but having lost my wife a couple of years ago, well, one year, three hundred and fourteen days ago, life hadn’t been fun.

It was a month or so later, I was stood in the garden and watched as the lady next door had a fight with the bathroom window. It was quite entertaining really. After ten minutes of shoving and swearing, two of the builders who were working at the house, took over, and that also proved to be even better entertainment as, obviously, they had no idea what’s-so-ever.

It was when I heard one of them say that it would need a complete replacement, I thought it was about time to assist.

“Hello there.”

“Oh hi,” she said, looking perhaps a bit surprised that I had finally said hello, as over the past weeks I had deliberately ignored any possible approach.

“What on earth are you having done?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I did call at your door a few weeks ago to tell you. We are having a new bathroom fitted.” I remember her knocking at the door, but I had ignored her. “By the way, I’m Maggie.”

“And you’ve got trouble with the window?” I could see by her expression she was not happy. “Show me,” I said.

A few minutes later, Maggie was showing me what had been a bathroom, and what could only now be described as a building site.

“And now they are saying the whole bloody window will need replacing. Andy is going to flip his lid!”

It was a lovely old sash window, almost certainly original, so over one-hundred and fifty years old and, after a few minutes of checking it, I was sure it was just that one of the sash ropes had snapped.

“I’m just going to get some tools,” I said and, without waiting for her approval, off I went, picked up what I needed from my workshop, and was back. Maggie seemed a little worried as I started to scrap off the paint, but she seemed to accept that I must know what I was doing.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“A tea please, builders please.” She hesitated. “Sorry, strong with just a splash of milk.”

I remember seeing her run out the back door and up the road to the corner shop. Obviously, no tea, and when she finally arrived with it, I already had the weight compartment open, and was attaching a replacement rope.

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome,” and I did my best not to wince. Instead, I explained how the windows worked and that often the ropes would snap, and it wasn’t long before I lifted the window, and it slide open. And her smile said it all.

“While I’m here, I might as well replace the others,” and again, without waiting for her approval, I began to open the next compartment. A couple of hours later, it was all finished, with both sashes working perfectly.

"Maggie, all done.” To be honest, I was pleased with myself, but when I saw her smile, I realised I actually felt better than that.

“Oh, thank you so much, how much do I owe you? Oh, I don’t even know your name, oh thank you, please, how much?” I smiled.

“My name is Sam. And you don’t owe me anything. Just glad I could help,” and I picked up my tool bag and bits and pieces and off I went, Maggie following me out, her thanks echoing in my ears.

It was a few hours later, and I was out the front, tidying the border when I saw Maggie’s husband arrived home. I didn’t look up. My normal mood had begun to return. It was usual this time of day, as it would have been about now that my lovely Angie would appear with our evening drinks and we would sit, watching the late evening sun disappear.

“Sam, Sam!” It was Maggie. “Come and have a beer with us, please, I ‘d like you to meet Andy and he wants to say thank you.” And whilst I wanted to say no, and I wanted to feel miserable, I smiled and slowly got to my feet and followed her up her garden path.

That was over a month ago and I had become a regular visitor for an evening beer, more than often with just Maggie. And, I had found myself lingering in the garden each evening, hoping she would be in her garden and that she would invite me to join her and then I would not feel like a grumpy old man, at least for a short while.

Maggie

I was so happy. “Sam, come and see, it’s ready!” I bounded up the stairs and waited as he followed me. “What do you think?” I was so pleased. I had missed my bathroom so much. Sam looked about, and walked about, checking the edging, and then the shower unit and, to be honest, god knows what, until he finally looked at me.

“It’s perfect!” And, for some unknown reason, I hugged him. He seemed embarrassed, but it soon passed, and I was soon showing him all the cabinets and the power shower, and the double basin.

“Maggie, I don’t want to be picky but I can’t hear the extractor fan.”

“That’s because it isn’t working,” I said. But I was not going to let that ruin my excitement. “They say they are waiting for a new motor. But we can open the window so we can still use the shower,” and we toasted my lovely new bathroom, albeit a steamy one.

“Well, at least we can shower,” said Andy and, as he lathered himself up, I slipped off my nightie and joined him.
“We need to christen every room my darling,” I said, as I started to stroke his lovely cock. I hated him working away all week, so when he got home on Friday evenings, I would make sure he realised how much I loved him, and how much I desired him.

Andy has a wonderful cock, nine inches of solid muscle and as I stroked him with one hand, my other hand squeezed his balls, my fingers exploring his anus and it wasn’t long before his fingers were deep in my pussy.

“I want to see us fuck,” I said and I stepped out of the shower and moved over to the sink units and bent over, my face just a few inches from the large mirror and I watched as he stepped behind me. Oh, it was fucking horny and when he slipped his cock deep into me, I saw the expression on his face.
And there, against my lovely double sink unit, he fucked me, my tits swinging as he pounded me and when he came, I remained bent over the sink, rubbing my swollen clitoris until I orgasmed, looking into the mirror. Shit.

There, in the mirror, I could see the window next door. Andy, for some reason, had opened the bottom sash, obviously to let the steam out and I could clearly see next door. I stood quickly and closed the window and, instead, I opened the top sash.

It was a couple of days later that Sam joined me for a beer and after he had gone, I went up to have my shower. I loved my new bathroom but the lack of an extractor fan was a problem, so much that without opening a window, the mirrors would fog up almost immediately. After turning on the shower, I quickly undressed and then, after opening the top sash, I turned to face the mirrors above the sinks, and began to check what us girls need to check. And it was then I saw him.

At first, I froze but, as I carried on feeling my breasts, I watched the scene behind me. He was stood just to the side of his window, but I could see him, standing looking at me. And instead of covering up, or moving away, I just carried on what I was doing, knowing I was naked, knowing he could see my naked bottom, knowing he was watching.

I am not a prude but nor am I an exhibitionist. But here I was, naked, knowing an old man was watching me, and probably jerking off, and my pussy was tingling with excitement. In my imagination I could see him, stroking his cock, and wanting to slip his erection into my pussy, and how he would fuck me until I orgasmed.

The shower was now hot and, gradually, the lower window began to fog, so I turned and slowly walked into the shower and out of view. And my fingers dipped into my soaking pussy and within a few minutes, I orgasmed. Fucking hell.

Sam

 What the hell am I doing? I looked at the mess on the window. Oh god, how low can you get? Ever since I had lost her, my self-esteem had plummeted. I hadn’t wanked since I was sixteen and it was then that I had met my wife. We had had a lovely life, and a lovely sex life but, and when I had lost her, I had lost everything. And now here I was, watching my lovely neighbour and, even though I knew it was wrong, when I came, my spunk hit the window and I felt almost pain, that exquisite pleasure and pain. Oh god, I hope she hadn’t seen me.

When Maggie had shown me the bathroom, I was very impressed. But, besides the fact that the extractor was not working, two other things hit me. Firstly, there were no blinds fitted. The windows were not frosted. The house, like mine, is listed, so that was not an option. And secondly, the beautiful mirror across the sinks directly faced my bathroom and I knew what would mean.

Now it has become a routine. I would time my excursion into the garden and usually Maggie would be there and we would share a few beers. Andy would be away working and, although Maggie understood why he had to work, and obviously missed him, she seemed to enjoy my company and, every day, I found myself less grumpy and less lonely.
And every evening, I watched as Maggie undressed in front of the window and, just before the window completely steamed over, she would turn and remove her bra and panties, before disappearing into the shower.

Afterwards, as I cleared up my mess, I would feel guilty, even ashamed, but I could not help thinking that each time, Maggie seemed to spend just a little longer in the window, slowly checking her body, and I would be treated to such a horny show, the mirror ensuring I could see her voluptuous breasts.

Later, as I lay in bed l would masturbate again. Was she putting on these shows for me? If she was, then she knew I was watching, surely? But, fucking hell Sam, what the hell are you doing!?

Maggie 

“Hi Sam, fancy a beer?”

This had become our routine. He would feint a slight surprise, and within a few minutes, we would be sat on my porch, beers in hand. I liked him. He was a handsome man, but probably thirty years older than me. He had told us about his wife, who he had obviously loved, and probably still did, and over the last few weeks, I had seen a sparkle in his eyes.

It was always a delightful hour, but I was surprised that, although I had found it weird, almost wrong, I looked forward to this moment in my day. And not for once did I feel awkward. It was as if we had a secret, just between us.

We would say good-night, and off he’d go, and I would tidy away the bottles and then go upstairs. A few minutes later, I would slowly stroll into the bathroom and turn on the shower and then go to the window and open the top sash. And then, as I undressed, I would see him in the mirror.

I would stretch as I took off my top, and then bend and remove my jeans, and before the window would steam up, I would unhook my bra and would squeeze my breasts together, enjoying the freedom, before peeling off my panties. And I would wait a minute or so, pretending to examine my pussy in the mirror, but looking at the image in my mirror.

I even started to trim my bush and tidy my bikini line in front of the mirror, and I would think, often out loud, “Go on, Sam” and the figure in the mirror would move, and I could see he was jerking off.

Fuck, it was so horny, and I would feel my pussy tingle and I would gently slip a finger between my lips, and then turn and walk into the shower, and would get to work with my fingers.

And every night, later in bed, I would find myself thinking about Sam jerking off, watching me. I wonder how big he is? I wonder how hard he can get when erect? I wonder if... but I would tell myself to behave. That was not going to happen. Surely not. No.

Sam

“Sam, you couldn’t give me a hand, could you?” Of course, I could, but I pretended that I was busy, but then reluctantly put down the garden fork and got up off my knees. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, far from it, but I had decided to try and keep our contact to an evening beer. And that was bad enough.

Over the last month or so, I had found myself in a terrible predicament. Simply put, I was worried I was heading for a fall. I was certain Maggie knew about how I spent my evenings and although she had not said a word, I thought she would, sooner or later, say something and I would die of embarrassment. But there was another problem. I thought she was bloody gorgeous, and not only was I masturbating whilst I watched her in her bathroom, I would lie in bed at night imagining her in my bed.

I followed her lovely curvy bottom up the path, and into the house, and then upstairs to the bathroom. Fucking hell, I thought, and images of her at the basin flashed in my mind, and I even found myself looking out of her window towards my bathroom, and I felt the colour in my face rise.

“Listen,” she said, and she switched on the light. Nothing. “Can you hear it?”

“Sorry Maggie, hear what?”

“Exactly. The bloody extractor fan has stopped working!”

A quick look around and I could see new fittings over the window, quite near to the ventilation vent. A few moments later, I had found the main switch to the extractor and, after switching it on, it purred into action.

“Sam, you are a star,” she said, suddenly pecking me on my cheek. A few minutes later I was home, and feeling depressed again. I knew those fittings were for the blinds. Oh well, I thought, at least that will force me to stop my nasty habit, but it did not stop me looking out of my bathroom window that night, and the next, until I finally turned away disappointed. They were very nice blinds.

Maggie

“Sam, fancy a beer?” I needed to talk to him.

The previous evening, in fact all night, had been horrible, and that was just crazy. I had showered as usual, and had been delighted with the new blinds, but I found myself lying in bed and, for the first time in months, I felt lonely. And I knew why.

He arrived a minute later, with a handful of beers and we settled down to chat about whatever, and it was only a few minutes until we were both laughing and he was telling me a very funny story about a woodpecker’s hole.

The fall was on its way, or autumn as Sam called it, and the light was disappearing earlier and earlier and it was quite dark when Sam said goodbye. I cleared away as usual and about five minutes later I went into the bathroom but, before I pulled the blinds, I looked over to Sam’s bathroom. There was nobody there, and I felt a disappointment surge through me.

Knock-knock. I watched his reflection as he unlocked the door and when he opened it, I smiled.

“Sam, so sorry, but that damn extractor is not working again! Would you mind?” A minute later we were walking upstairs and I was beginning to worry that this was not a good idea. He checked the light and then the switch above the door. No, it didn’t work.

“Was it working earlier?” he said as he turned the light on and off a few times. I said it had been and I was just about to have a shower when I realised it had stopped.

“Sorry Maggie, think you’ll need to get the sparky back in,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. I thanked him for his help, but as I did so, I pulled up the blinds, and undid the catch of the window and lifted the bottom sash, so it was fully open.

“See you later,” I said as he went off back home. And I waited. It was only a minute or so later that I saw his reflection in the mirror and, as the window was open, he had a completely unobstructed view.

As I removed my sweater, I felt nervous and yet so excited. My jeans came down next and I deliberately stretched, tensing my buttocks and then unhooked my bra and let it slip to the floor. I could not believe I was doing this but, as I hooked my thumbs into the side of my panties, I felt a tingle surge through me and I slowly pulled them down and left them on the floor. I straightened up and pressed my hands into my lower back and then slowly across my hips and down my stomach and between my legs. And I turned around.

Oh my god. There was Sam, standing in his window, the bottom sat open wide. He was wearing a T-shirt but otherwise, he was naked, his cock in his hand. I stood looking at him for a short moment, but then I raised my left leg and put my foot onto the low window sill and then slipped my fingers into my freshly shaved pussy.

As I stood there, my fingers sliding into my pussy, I watched Sam closely. His cock was hard and I saw him spit into his hand and then rub it onto his cock, using his fingers around his helmet, and then slowly begin to stroke his erection. And I copied him, spitting onto my hand and then slowly rubbing it into my pussy, pressing on my pelvic bone, pulling my pussy so my clitoris popped out from under its hood, and then circling my bud with my middle finger.

It was one of the horniest things I had ever done and I realised my nipples were so hard they ached, so I used my free hand to squeeze them, all the while looking directly at Sam jerking his impressive cock. And fuck, I wanted it in me, and I could almost feel him sliding into my soaking pussy, and his hands squeezing my breasts and pulling my nipples. We both stood there, no more than ten yards apart and watched each other masturbate, the cold air on my body increasing the wonderful sensation, as Sam stroked his erection with one hand, his other squeezing his balls.

When I orgasmed, it was sudden. I had felt it build deep in me but I was expecting my usual warm and satisfying one, but as I began to thrust my fingers deeper and deeper, my eyes fixed on Sam, it kept building and the harder I used my fingers, and the harder Sam stroked his cock, it grew and grew.

When it hit me, it took me by surprise. Fuck, it was awesome and I had to grab the window edge to stop myself crumbling in a heap. And I watched as Sam’s hand became a blur and until his cum erupted. It was several minutes before I regained my composure. Sam still standing there, in the window, looking at me, so I blew him a kiss and went to have my shower.

Later that night, alone in bed, I found myself gently masturbating, imagining Sam alone in bed, with his rock-hard cock in his hand. I wonder if..... maybe.

Oh, and I must remember to put the fuse back into the extractor switch before Andy gets home tomorrow.