The Voyeur Next Door by Airicka Phoenix Page A

directly across from mine. The other windows were dark, the occupants not home, or maybe already in bed. One had their curtains drawn. But the one adjacent to mine, the terrace doors were open, the blinds drawn apart wide to expose a six drawer dresser topped with a gilded, oval mirror, the foot of a wide bed, one of those bed benches women liked so much and … a woman.
    I blinked, not because I believed she was some kind of hallucination, but because of the way she was leaning against the open frame of her doors. The light from behind her painted her in a dark outline, making it almost impossible to make anything out, but I saw enough.
    She must have just gotten out of the shower as well, because her dark hair was a cascading tangle of damp curls all the way to her hips and the shimmery, peach colored fabric of her satin robe was stained by wet patches. But what captured my attention, and had my cock twinging in a new burst of lust, was the unknotted sash waving in the night like a pale snake. It hung free at her sides, leaving the front parted to the evening. The flimsy thing barely covered miles of long, perfect legs, legs that were ever so slightly parted to accommodate the hand tucked high against her mound.
    Her face was bent forward, obscured by the thick curtain of hair swinging around her shoulders. One forearm was braced against the wood as she leaned into the steady strokes of her fingers. She seemed lost in that place between passion and release. I knew it was wrong to watch, but hell if I was going to stop.
    My fingers tightened around my weeping erection. The vein pulsed steadily beneath my palm as I matched my strokes to hers. It could have been the wind, or my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard the quiet moan of pleasure. It seemed to hum between our two buildings before fading to nothing. A breeze drifted through the crack and swept aside the flap of her robe, not enough to show a damn thing, but it was enough to make me want to slide up behind her, take a hold of her hips, and push home inside her. I didn’t even care what she looked like, or who she was. All I wanted was to feel myself replace her fingers. I wanted to close my hand in her hair, bow her body back into mine, and fuck her right there on the terrace. I wanted to expose her breasts to the night and my hands. I wanted to hold them in my palms as I rode her long and hard.
    A choked gasp brought me back and I watched her knees tremble and the hand on the frame tightened. The one nestled between her thighs quickened and I could have sworn I could hear the wet sound of her pumping fingers moving deep inside her slick channel.
    She came with a shudder. Her head dropped even further forward and she slumped into the doorjamb.
    The hand I had braced against the window ledge tightened at the same moment as the sagging folds of skin around my balls did.
    I came. Hard.
    Thick ropes of come splattered over the wall and trickled across the white linoleum. My knees quivered and I swayed forward slightly. Ragged tufts of breath expelled with every tremor until I thought I would suffocate. By far, that had to have been the most intense climax I’d had in ages, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. Sure I’d seen porn, but this was different. The high was incredible.
    I lifted my head to peer at the woman and was relieved she was still leaning against the door. Her hand slipped slowly from inside her and the light from her apartment shone over the gloss coating her fingers. My own desires reared its head as I imagined her coating my dick in that fashion. I imagined pushing her down on her knees and making her clean us both off my cock. Then taking her inside and starting all over again. Instead, all I could do was watch as she stood there and silently will her to lick her fingers clean.
    She didn’t.
    She drew her robes together and hurried inside without me ever seeing her face. A moment later, the light snapped off and I was alone in the