Voyeur

She looks like a schoolgirl. Her plaid skirt rises a bit and one of her knee-high boots kicks up as she leans back into the SUV to retrieve her soft briefcase and a bag of groceries. The glimpse of creamy thigh is just a tease. The Murano's door is closed with a saucy bump of her hip as she turns toward the house. Her face lights up with a dazzling smile, hazel eyes sparkling in the autumn sun. I don't have to look for the cause. The old wolf comes to greet his bitch. Work boots, Levis and flannel, he is a stark contrast to her chic style, a different generation. She steps close. His hand in the small of her back caresses the wool of her pea coat, urging her closer still. Leaning up into him, her eyes drift closed as he ravages her lips in greeting, claiming what is his. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, disappointed and yet relieved as he straightens, relieving her of the grocery bag. She says something and dances a cute little Irish jig making him throw back his head and laugh. The lucky bastard claims another kiss before delivering a stout swat to her swishing skirt and they disappear inside.

I hold my breath as he appears in the kitchen alone. My heart thuds unnaturally loud in the silence as I wait. The tension eases as she appears from the foyer. The black pea coat gone, a ribbed, sage turtleneck hugs her slender form. Unable to see the lower half of her now, I can still picture the smooth black leather molding her calves, and the way the green plaid kilt brushes the backs of her thighs as she walks. She bends over and I sit up in my chair, hoping for a better vantage point. I am too late. She straightens, a tiny scrap of material encircling her finger. The lacey wisp twirls tauntingly as she leaves the room. It is a nightly ritual, the removal of the panties, and I can't help but wonder at its origin.

A ray of light pierces my eye and I squint against the painful intrusion. Annoyed, I throw up a hand to shade my face, searching for the cause of the glare. I relax, even smile. They've taken advantage of my momentary distraction to make their way up to the lantern room atop the period farmhouse. The shades are up now, and the afternoon sun bathes the glass observation room in its glow, casting sharp prisms of light off new windows. He has been working up there during the day while she is away, turning the small windowed space into a sumptuous private nest. From her delighted reaction, it is obviously a surprise for her. She throws her arms up around his neck; the lecherous old bastard's hands slip under her skirt to mold her tight ass. I watch the supple skin dimple under the pressure of his blunt fingers...ah the miracles of modern technology.

Shifting the binoculars ever so slightly, I follow one heavy hand as it slides up to wrap in her auburn tinted tresses, heralding payment. A low groan of frustration and envy rumbles in my chest as he slowly forces the tart to her knees. How long will it last this time? I have watched her bob over his shaft for hours at a time while he relaxes in front of the television, pulling her up by that mane when he gets close, only to force the whore's mouth back to work when his breath is caught. How long will she kneel at his feet performing fellatio with the zeal of a priestess at altar?

He stands with his feet spread wide, his manner intimidating even from afar. Her hot mouth envelops his thick cock, taking more with each stroke. She hollows her cheeks, eyelashes fluttering over high cheekbones as she focuses on her task. The tight fist in her hair drives her hard, no foreplay. I can almost hear her desperate gagging gasps. A high-pitched whine of protest comes from my lap, my hand fisting in the Pomeranian's fur, unconsciously mimicking the wolf's grip on his bitch. With an apologetic stroke, I toss the pup to the floor. Focus. Her lips are beautiful stretched wide. The flare of her nostrils is frantic as she fights to draw air. I would love to see the look in those hazel eyes now. To see the fear and misery in their depths as I fuck her face, forcing her to my will.

My knuckles rub up and down the crest of my zipper, fighting the urge to just ease the pressure a bit. A shudder runs through my body as he forcefully drags the slut from his cock. Her eyes open wide, a thin string of saliva stretching from his slick staff to her trembling lips. Her features twist in pain as the fist in her hair hauls her up. I hold my breath as he raises his big paw but he merely strokes her cheek. She leans into the touch showing no fear. His fingers play with the hem of her turtleneck before slowly stripping it over her head and tossing it aside. The front closure on the lacey, aspen brassiere gives way with the lightest touch, springing open to reveal twin softball size globes, their dusky nipples already pebbling. From chill or excitement? My pulse races as her kilt slithers down her long legs, leaving just her boots.

She crosses her wrists at the small of her back, her head lowered in a submissive posture. Tonight he does not toy with her. I gasp as she is thrust against the floor-to-ceiling window nearest my viewpoint. Her bare skin presses tantalizingly against the glass, her breasts flattening as he closes in behind her. Slowly he raises her arms above her head, pressing her palms flat. A shiver steals down my spine as he runs a taunting finger over her exposed rib cage, drawing goose flesh in his wake. She falls forward, barely managing to turn her cheek to the glass, as he jerks her hips back, bending her at the waist.

Stepping back, he seems to admire her pose. Slowly, he draws his wide, two hole belt through the loops on his unfastened Levi's. Doubling the length of leather, he snaps it. I can imagine the crack shattering the silence and shudder lightly. Our little lovely retains her position, her eyes closing as she awaits the first blow. My palm grinds against my straining erection as he starts to swing the strap with practiced ease, alternating the blows but gradually increasing the force. Breasts jiggle enticingly as she arches back into the kiss of the leather, her face a picture of agonized ecstasy.

Cock hard and weeping, the kink does not last long tonight. The belt is dropped to the floor. One hand fists her hair again, yanking her head back at a savage angle. Gripping her hip, he drives his cock home with primal joy, drawing a scream from her lips. My prick springs free from the confines of my khakis, fingers closing about it. He is fucking her hard now. I pump my fist furiously, trying to catch the rhythm. The force of his grip whitens the skin on her hip, promising finger bruises on her fair skin. Her tits flatten enticingly against the glass. It is difficult to keep my eye on the action as my own pleasure mounts.

Her lips part, eyes wide open. Can she see me? Does she search the night for the source of that prickle at the back of her neck, or does she see no farther than the reflection of the wolf, confident in his ability to protect her? Her chest heaves, her breath coming in harsh pants I can hear in my ear. That lithe body bucks beautifully before his dominating thrusts. My balls tighten, a low whimper sounding in my throat. I am so close. The old fuck pounds her pussy punishingly, the bitch's face contorted in a mask of pleasure as she nears her climax. She is sliding down the window, bending further, arching back into his pounding hips in desperation. His thrusts brutal, only his vicious grip on her hair keeps her face from smashing into the glass. Her mouth opens wide, her face twisting in a caricature of pain and pleasure, body jerking in the throes of orgasmic bliss.

Ropes of translucent white pearls splatter the window, glistening in the setting sun. A high-pitched whine burns my throat as I milk my cock, the last spurts dribbling over my khakis in pearly clumps. I slump in my chair, drained and sated. The wolf and his bitch have retired to cuddle on the pelts of his brethren before the gas fireplace. Idly, I reach up to wipe a glob of cum from the binoculars. My limbs deadened, it seems an effort. I close my eyes with a small smile, a simple tune threading through my consciousness as I start to drift in a mental replay of this evening...Won't you be...my neighbor?

*WC ~ 1,523*



2nd place in Dark Lady's Dark Fiction Contest May 2008!