My Neighbor’s Voyeur

Using my binoculars, I peeked through the window and across the street at Mrs. Walson, my best friend’s mom and one of, if not THE, hottest MILF on the block. She was cleaning house dressed in extremely high cut cut-off jeans, and a lumber jack shirt. Now when I say high cut, I am sure her pubic hair would have shown had she not regularly shaved that area, and while her shirt remained unbuttoned, showing ample cleavage, she had it pulled up and tied just below the 38C temptations bulging from her chest, in short, her usual cleaning attire.

As she leaned forward sweeping or mopping the floors, I enjoyed a down blouse view of those gorgeous mounds when she was facing my direction, or, when she faced away, the bottom quarter of her firm, full ass cheeks being parted by the seam of her cut-offs, a voyeurs dream come true.

‘Shit’, I whispered when, just as Mrs. Walson was leaning forward to pick something up, Jason Smith, a friend of mine who lived up the street, casually strolled by the Walson’s house, obviously enjoying the scene I was being denied. By the time I again had a clear view, she had already stood up and was returning a ‘hi’ wave in response to Jason’s. This happened often, and not just with Jason, as most, if not all, of the boys, not having the vantage point I had, had no other choice but to walk by hoping for a peek. I suppose I couldn’t blame them, it was a show any teenager could enjoy.

Watching Mrs. Walson gather together her cleaning supplies, I knew the show was ending, but continued to watch as long as possible. I followed her across the living room until she disappeared from sight before I noticed, because of the wide angle view through the binoculars, her bedroom curtains were not tightly drawn together. I adjusted the view of the binoculars bringing her bedroom window into closer view and waited patiently.

As I waited, I felt my heart beating in my chest, felt my hands starting to shake, felt saliva gathering in my mouth until I almost drooled, and then she entered.

As she entered, she was looking down, fiddling with the knot that had held her shirt closed. I watched as she finally managed to open the outer loop of the knot before raising her hands and, her fingertips sliding down her breastbone, pushed open the remaining loop allowing the hem of the shirt to drop open.

I felt as if I had been transported to a surreal universe where everything happened in slow motion. Her hands continued down until they could take the shirt by the parted hem, pull upward and back, allowing the shirt to fall back from her shoulder and, as her tits came into view, I gasped. Despite their size and fullness, they did not drop or sag when freed, their asymmetrical areola enhancing the perfect nipples, still hard from rubbing against the shirt, and were thrusting forward as her arms and head stretch back dropping her shirt away. As she finished stretching, she pulled her head and arms forward. She Look down and, I could tell by the movement of her arms, began undoing her cut-offs.

The size and positioning of her window limited my view to only being able to see her body down to her belly. Knowing what she was doing, and hoping for a different view, I stood on my toes try to look over the windowsill in a downward direction with no luck, so I stood on my bed only to have the same lack of results. She leaned forward (to remove the cut-offs from her ankles?) and I watched as her bust hung freely with the slightest of motion before she rose again and started walking away from my direction, bringing more of her body into view. I jumped back to the floor and raised the binoculars to my eyes just in time to watch her ass cheeks sway with each step she took before she entered the master bath and turned toward the sink.

She reached for a facecloth and bent forward slightly to wet it under the tap causing her ass to push back (where imagined my face was waiting) before wringing out the facecloth. She stood upright again and lean back her head and began to slowly wipe her neck with the facecloth as if it was lover caressing her with kisses. She leaned forward again to rewet and rinse the cloth and, as her ass jutted out, my tongue involuntarily started to pass my lips. After the facecloth was wrung out, she held it her right hand and raises her left arm so she could wipe the sweat I so wanted to lick from under her left tit. She placed the facecloth in her other hand and washed away the sweat from under her right tit. She put the facecloth in the sink before clasping her hands together. She stretched them upward as far as she could reach and leaned to the left, then to the right, obviously checking for any sag to her bust which, I could have told her, there wasn’t.

She reach down to wet and wring the facecloth again. She turned to face away from my direction, raising her left leg to rest it on the toilet across from the sink. She leaned forward slightly, almost daring me to run up behind her and accept the offered gift, and, using her right hand, began to wash between her legs. The cloth in her hand wiped along the lips of her crease, back and forth it travelled as it slowly parted the lips and entered. The wiping motion soon sped up and more of the cloth disappeared. Her body bent forward, her left arm holding on to the side of the tub for support. As she bent, her ass cheeks parted inviting my tongue to caress the puckered muscle, when suddenly, her head threw back, her knees pulled together and buckled slightly and the ‘washing’ of her privates returned to a slow, steady pace.

Her orgasm seemed so intense I thought I could share it from where I was standing and I envied her husband’s access to these treasures, their fullness, their feel, their taste, and imagined that I shared that access, and more. I saw myself nibbling her nipples and sucking on each, licking at their firmness as they reached full erection, enjoying their sensation between my lips. I felt the palms my hands cupping the firmness of her tits as my finger began to stroke and pinch her nipples. Feel my lips gently kissing their way down her belly and over, then under, her groin. I could feel my lips parting slowly allowing my tongue to exit my mouth to explore and taste her honey-sweet cavity. I imagined the sounds of her panting sighs of anticipation as her hands would pull my head deeper into her as her juices washed over my chin. I felt perspiration forming on my forehead as the sound of my own panting breath quickening. I felt the pleasure mounting in my groin as, without my knowledge, one of my hands had left its grasp of the binoculars, slid itself into my jeans and began to expertly masturbate my genitalia to near orgasm only to be denied by my mother’s voice coming from directly behind me asking, “Harriett, what are you doing?”

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