They’d been watching each other for weeks.
She knew what he looked like naked: neat little nipples, smooth, nicely muscled chest, flat stomach with a delicious treasure trail running down to the light brown hairs surrounding his cock and balls. She knew his cock stood tall and high against said flat stomach.
She knew how he liked to touch himself, long languid strokes, up and down his cock while he rubbed the flat of his other hand over his stomach and chest, intermittently pinching and pulling his nipples while he watched her.
She shivered and clenched her bottom, writhing and squirming in her office chair. She knew how he braced himself against the glass with one straight arm, legs apart when he came, spraying his come against the window. Looking straight at her with his hot, hungry eyes. Well, she imagined they were hot and hungry – he was just that bit too far away for her to tell.
She let out a frustrated sigh. She wanted to see those eyes when he came; she wanted to be looking right into them when he shot his load all over her.
She couldn’t resist slipping her hand up her top and giving her breast a quick squeeze to try and relieve the ache. What she really wanted to do was strip off, go to the big window in her living room and plaster herself against it. She wanted to spread her legs wide and finger herself till she screamed while she rubbed her tits all over the glass.
It was getting to the point where her nipples got hard just thinking about it. Oh god, had she turned into his Pavlovian pet?
She glanced at the clock. No point anyway – he didn’t get home for another hour. She hung her head in shame: had she become some kind of weird stalker?
She had watched his apartment, but then she knew he watched hers. They had a bit of a routine going, even though they’d never spoken a word to each other. Well, actually that wasn’t strictly true, they’d become quite adept at lip reading and had developed their own form of charades: “hold your tits”, “turn to the side so I can see your big cock properly”, stuff like that.
The hottest thing to date had been a few nights ago when he’d told her to sit naked on the arm of her sofa and spread her legs wide. Then he’d told her to hold herself open so he could watch her masturbating.
Fuck! She’d come so hard that night, she’d been drenched and her clit had been so sensitive it had hurt. But she’d liked it. In fact, she’d wanted something more, although she wasn’t sure what. She’d felt like she’d wanted a bit more hurt, a bit more pain, right there between her legs on her throbbing clit.
The space between them was beginning to bring frustration, rather than the thrill and gratification it had started with. She wondered for the hundredth time how to suggest they get together rather than continue this mutual masturbation distance learning course they appeared to be on. They had both passed with distinction, it was time for the advanced class now.
While she was thinking she was doodling on her notepad: words, feelings, wants, she even managed a dodgy picture of his cock. That got scribbled out quick sharp, but when she finally snapped out of her daze there were two words repeated over and over.
She took a fresh piece of paper with a black marker pen and wrote the words in big, bold letters. Checking the clock again, she realised it was nearly time. She stood up, pushed her chair back and began to unbutton her blouse.
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