The Voyeur Next Door by Airicka Phoenix Page B

new darkness with a fresh erection and a familiar beast pacing inside me.

Chapter Three
     
    Ali
     
    I was a pervert.
    I mean, I always knew I was somewhere deep inside. You kind of had to be to do what I did. But last night I had reached a peak in my own perverseness that shocked even me.
    I had fingered myself to an earth shattering climax right there on my terrace, while watching my neighbor masturbate in the privacy of his bathroom.
    Wow. If I could somehow die of pure mortification, I would be in a state of decomposition. What had I been thinking?
    Okay, I knew at the time what I was thinking, which was basically holy fuck dude was hot. Things after that had become hazy, like that sense of fake liberation one felt when getting drunk. Taking your clothes off and dancing on the table always seemed like a really good, and logical idea at the time. But come morning, the memories of it made you want to shove your brain into a grinder.
    I was horrified and I won’t lie, kind of aroused. I’d never done anything like it, and while I wasn’t a prude, my solitary lover in all of twenty-three years had left me very little to be desired in the way of coupling. What I knew, I was self-taught thanks to the wonders of the internet and my neighbor watching. On the off chance I was actually turned on by what I saw, which was seldom, I took my horny self to bed, got myself off, and went to sleep like a normal person. Instead, I had been captivated by the scene of that magnificent cock gripped in a strong, firm hand. I was drawn by the steady strokes over the rigid length. Something about the sight of him, hard, thick and leaking had lit a fire in the pit of my stomach that made my knees weak and my clit ache. It had seemed like such a waste not to enjoy the moment with him and I was a girl all about the moments.
    It had annoyed me that I couldn’t see more than a square notch of beautifully cut abs, parts of a trimmed waist and toned thighs, but something about that fact had also fanned my excitement. I let myself delve knuckle deep inside my forbidden pool in time to my mystery lover’s steady strokes and found he had an amazing rhythm. The motion was perfect for rubbing the heel of my hand over my mound, over the swollen nub. At some point, I was no longer even watching him. I sank into my own pleasure and the explosion promising me the most exquisite bliss. It had been an experience that had literally rocked me to my very foundation. It had been so wrong, so dirty and so fucking amazing, part of me had actually wanted to risk the leap onto his terrace.
    I wanted more.
    It was sick and disturbing, but just the thought of it got me hot and wet. Part of me wondered if he did that after every shower and if I would have the courage to watch again.
    Oh who was I kidding? I was so going to watch again, and again, as often as he kept those blinds up. The man was beautiful and I was addicted to my new neighbor. My only regret was not knowing if there was a Mrs. New Neighbor somewhere in the background. I didn’t whack off for just anyone, but when I did, I kind of liked knowing he was free to be whacked over.
    Dressed for the day, most of my embarrassment cooled by my morning shower, I crept to the open terrace doors and cautiously peeked around the corner, half expecting him to still be standing there, naked, cock in hand. So imagine just how disappointed I was to find his blinds all shut and him nowhere to be seen.
    I crept out of my hiding spot and stood at the railings to study the glossy sheet of glass separating me from my fantasy lover. I judged the distance between our balconies and estimated a quick and painful plummet to the concrete below. I wasn’t athletic. Any notions of becoming a superhero, or a burglar, was out of the question, so no way in hell would I be able to make that lunge. Realistically, I wouldn’t even if I did have levitating powers. I wasn’t that crazy, or desperate. But if I could, I wasn’t sure what