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Subject: <*>NEW STORY--Front Window
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=========================
The following is total fiction.  Any resemblance etc. is a product of your 
imagination.  This work is meant as ADULT entertainment.  If the laws 
where you sit say you're too young to read this, go away and turn 
yourself in to the thought police.  Even thinking about sex is dirty and 
nasty and will warp your mind forever.  Go watch a movie or play a 
game that ends with a body count in the high four figures.  Death and 
destruction are good clean fun.

©1997 losgud.  Personal use just fine.  Archiving okay.  Absolutely NO 
for-profit use permitted.  Reposting without notice is frowned upon.  
Tampering with the text (rewriting) is illegal.  Copyright violations will 
fall under the jurisdiction of my principality, where the punishment is 
to discourage repeat offenders.  We cut your fucking hands off!
=========================
M/F  con  hum  voy
NOTE:  Here's a slightly strange one.  Peek-a-boo, I see you!  As usual, 
things start percolating about halfway through.  Remember:  it pays to 
be a good neighbor!  Enjoy!


FRONT WINDOW  
	
It was one of those mornings where you wake up with the decision in 
hand to change your life.  You wake up, and there it is, as tangible and 
real as the bits of crust in the corners of your eyes.  There was the 
usual great battle with all the bedding, but I managed to fight my way 
free, fleeing the quicksand oblong of the mattress to stumble into the 
kitchen to get the coffee going.  Then I went into the bathroom, and for 
the time it took my bladder to empty I was transformed into a horse.  
By some miracle I didn't overflow the bowl.  From there I went to my 
favorite window and opened it before sitting down in the chair.  I lit a 
cigarette and became a machine.  I sucked in smoke, the blew it out 
through the screen, over and over, until the cigarette was finished.  
This was my clock.  By the time I stumbled back into the kitchen, the 
coffee would be done brewing.  I sat down at the table and drank 
several cups of my wake-up medicine.  Then I fully contemplated 
changing my life.
	
Changing my life was of course beyond my capabilities.  So I focused on 
my surroundings.  With the headiness born of a Saturday morning, I 
decided to rearrange all the furniture in my apartment.  I was tired of 
it being so cramped and dark and gloomy in here.  I'd considered a 
major shift many times before but I was always thwarted before I began 
by one obstacle.  Not that I was too lazy to undertake such a chore--I 
could overcome that inclination just thinking about the rewards.  Not 
that it'd be such an arduous process--it _would_ be a complicated 
procedure, moving just the one right piece at a time to avoid a gigantic 
logjam.  The problem was that no matter how I considered the space, it 
always looked to be a game of musical chairs--when the music ended 
there would be one piece of furniture with nowhere to sit down.  The 
trouble was that I wanted to uncover the front windows, which were 
blocked by a huge oak secretary.  I could see no way to find it wall 
space without, say, exiling the couch to the middle of the room.  Or 
rendering a closet useless.  Or losing a heat vent.
	
The secretary was a gift from a great-aunt when she'd traded a big 
family house in the cold north for a small senior's condo in the sunny 
south.  It was a beautiful monstrosity.  The very thing only an old 
maiden great-aunt would wind up having, which wasn't a very reassuring 
thought now that it sat in my apartment.  The story was that the family 
had brought it over on the boat when they'd first come to this country 
a million years ago.  My story was that _it_ in fact _was_ the fucking 
boat.  

It had a drop-leaf desk, and a rolltop desk.  A million little 
cubbyholes.  Sliding doors.  The multiple desk section rested on a base 
containing four columns of four drawers each.  Above, glass-doored 
mirror-backed shelving rose nearly to the ceiling.  The wood was carved 
to incredible detail.  Pilasters and flutings all over the place.  
Corinthian columns for god's sake!  Flying buttresses!  As if it didn't 
look enough like a cathedral, perched all around the top were little 
gargoyles pushing out of the very wood.  They weren't separately 
affixed decorations.  Luckily the whole thing rested on ceramic casters.  
Luckier still, despite the cracks of age, the four wheels were not only 
whole but still functioning.   
	
At the heart of the whole problem was that I had my bed in the 
livingroom.  The bedroom down the hall past the bathroom I used as a 
study.  Aside from the occasional hoopla of someone getting lucky, 
bedrooms tended to be the quietest corner of any apartment.  I needed 
no noise to concentrate when I was working.  But I could go to sleep, 
or stay asleep, through all but the greatest din.  Such were the 
necessities of my life.
	
I gave grave consideration to my latest vision, then set to work.  The 
bed was just a Hollywood frame.  I leaned the mattress and boxsprings 
against the wall in the hall.  The couch went where the bed had been, 
which left enough room on the adjoining wall for the bookcases from the 
dining nook.  The secretary creaked over to the couch's former position.  
The table and set of four chairs from the dining room I grouped in 
front of the front windows.  Man, that was going to be my new favorite 
window, I could just tell. The dresser and a couple of chairs and two 
minor endtables got shuffled around, winding up in better positions 
than before.  Miraculously the bed fit snugly  in the dining nook, with 
the critical room to spare for the crucial bedside table.
	
The view through the front windows would travel through the 
livingroom landing directly on my bed, but that didn't bother me.  
That's what the blinds were for if I chose to care.  It was a little 
unnerving at first--the secretary had provided an excellent privacy 
barrier.  But I well knew from my tenure that almost everyone kept 
their blinds closed all the time anyway.  Those of us dwelling on the 
second story were safe from the scrutiny of anyone in the courtyard.  
Factor in screens and exterior glass that'd been washed by nothing but 
rain in dozens of years and what did it matter if I happened to walk 
into my livingroom in my underwear?  What harm was there if someone 
across the way chanced to see my naked butt climbing into bed moments 
before lights out?  I decided I'd continue leaving my blinds up, even in 
the lamplight of night.  Otherwise I felt too claustrophobic.
	
The only hitch in my plans was that a few weeks before a new couple 
had moved in directly across the way.  The previous tenants had never 
raised their blinds or even opened them, not even during the dull  
light of day.  The schedules of the new neighbors seemed to be such 
that she was the first to stir in the morning, when all the blinds in 
their livingroom would go up, and the first home from work, when the 
blinds wouldn't shift even though all the lights were on.  The blinds 
would drop mid-evening, at the instigation of the guy it appeared.
	
In my apartment's new configuration, I'd wind up loitering over dinner, 
gazing absently out the window, and there she would be, sitting 
watching t.v.  It was a little unnerving.  I immediately thought of 
Hitchcock's _Rear Window_.  I thought a time or two about fetching my 
toy binoculars, but stopped myself shouting _to what effect?_  So I 
could watch her watching t.v. at x10?  So that she could wind up 
noticing me spying on her in a stupid toy way?
	
The thing was, they were the nicest couple in the world.  Friendly folk.  
We'd been waving and exchanging greetings since the first day they 
started moving in.  The real thing was that I found her immensely 
attractive.  She wasn't torn from the pages of _Glamour_, but neither 
was I stepping out of _GQ_.  She was on the short side, with a cutely 
distinctive face, always ready with a winning smile.  Her eyes were like 
those of a doe's.  Breasts that were, well, breasts.  Breasts that were 
nicely apparent but wouldn't necessarily need a brassiere to defy 
gravity.  Mostly what I found alluring was how her waist flared into 
hips, a womanly ass.  And unlike a great many women, she seemed to 
realize that her ass was just right exactly as it was, that were it any 
smaller the pleasure of it would be diminished, from an observer's point 
of view.
	
Observe it I did.  Very very discreetly.  So often swaying in a pair of 
tight white pants.  I would look at the back of his head as they walked 
away and think _lucky, lucky guy_.  I didn't have to wonder if he 
appreciated it or deserved it.  He obviously did on both counts, to 
judge by her small attentions.  _Lucky, lucky guy_, I thought with total 
altruism.  It really did make me happy to see two people so happy.
	
One Sunday I was sitting out on the front stoop with a cup of coffee 
enjoying the gorgeous day.  The courtyard was a microcosm of paradise.  
The leaves on the three big trees twinkled in the sunshine and the 
light breeze, seeming to provide the support for the big canopy of 
luscious blue way overhead.  The birds flitting around were singing 
songs that sang _Be Happy, Be Happy_.  It took no effort for me to take 
their advice to heart.  Their lyrics were already radiating from within 
me, not as a command but as an accomplished fact.  It was a damn good 
day.
	
I saw their car pull up, and then the new couple were coming up the 
walk.  As they approached the turn off to their door we called out our 
congenial if generic greetings.  They are so great, I thought.  I was 
surprised, and delighted, when they turned the wrong way and came up 
the walk towards me.  We spouted pleasantries and introductions.  They 
were Jake and Ellen, and I was Edwin.  We were standing, or sitting, 
out in as perfect a day as there is, residents of a lovely apartment 
complex full of friendly folk.  We joked about a cadre of nosy but nice 
old men we called the resident grannies.  Ellen commented indirectly on 
my redecorating efforts, noting, "Your puss-puss certainly seems to be 
greatly enjoying her new view."
	
This was quite true.  "Yea, tell me about it.  She hangs out there all 
the time.  And if she hears me down here, she does just this."  My cat 
was doing her usual trick of yelling down at me.
	
"Sounds like your pussy wants some attention," Ellen grinned.  "I know 
the feeling.  Well I guess we'll leave you to it."  Just as they were 
turning, she asked, "Have you ever seen my sweet little pussy in our 
window?"  I almost blushed, but quickly recovered.
	
"No, can't say as I have."
	
She smiled and tossed her hair and turned.
	
The thing was--cats and windows--I should have known that they had 
one.  "I didn't know you guys had a cat."
	
Jake gave me a goofy look before he turned away, "Oh, that's because 
we don't."
	
The implications were such that a blood vessel in my brain should have 
burst, causing me to keel over dead right there on the stoop, but I was 
too busy watching Ellen's wonderful ass swaying away.  I was 
wondering as always about a certain incongruity--if panties were such 
sheer little things, how come you could always see them so clearly 
defined through a pair of pants?  And in instances such as this, to 
judge by the lines I could see, why would one bother wearing any at 
all?  Strictly for the benefit of a lucky someone who might help take 
them off?  That was my only guess.  _Lucky someone!_
	
I went back upstairs and started puttering around the apartment.  Fed 
the cat, thought about lunch, decided to put off eating for a couple 
hours.  Gathered up the previous day's newspaper, thought of going out 
for today's, decided I'd put that off until I was really desperate for 
some fun.  A notion of brilliance was knocking at my back door, so I let 
it in.  Aha!  Move that tiny table from that end of the couch to this 
end!  So many weeks after the initial efforts, and at last the 
transformation of my apartment was complete in total perfection.  

I sat down on the sofa supremely satisfied with myself, and the cat 
hopped up supremely satisfied with my lap.  We sat there communing 
in the silence.  When the buzzer rang, we had a race to see who would 
be first to bump their head on the ceiling.  I bounced back on the sofa, 
but the cat landed in the middle of the room, looking at me wildly.  
"It's not my fault!" I exclaimed.  She tore off to the kitchen with her 
tail as wide as her head.
	
The apartment complex was immediately postwar, and the buzzers seemed 
to be navy surplus from decommissioned submarines.  _Dive! dive!_  I 
didn't understand their necessity.  The buttons were located below the 
mailboxes directly downstairs inside the nonlocking front door.  A few 
steps up the stairs would bring a gentle rap to my door.  Then there 
_was_ one.  I got up and looked through the peephole, which of course 
would distort my own mother into the image of the scariest monster 
murderer.
	
I opened the door and there to my great surprise stood Jake.
	
"Well, hello Jake.  What a surprise."  I regained my composure, opening 
the door wide, "Come in, come in."
	
"Nice layout," he commented, "but wow, _déjà vu_."
	
We stood there and exchanged goofy guy grins.
	
Next he noticed the secretary.  "My god, that is incredible.  How 
gorgeous.  Is that what was blocking your windows when we first moved 
in?"
	
"You got it!"
	
"Man, how did it get in here?  They construct the building around it?"
	
"Industrial strength helicopter.  The landlord doesn't like to advertise 
it, but the roofs here are hung on hinges.  You have to see them to 
believe them.  Up in the attic.  Ten feet long, mounted with thigh-wide 
screws."
	
He chuckled.  "Excellent Edwin.  A shitter always appreciates a good 
shitting.  Up the stairs, hmmm, glad it wasn't me."
	
"Hey, glad it wasn't me.  I hired professionals, self-insured ones.  
Presented the owner with several notarized appraisals so he'd 
understand that if they broke it I'd break him."
	
"I can't even begin to guess.  Thirty thousand?"
	
"When my great-aunt gave it to me she included an appraisal for about 
that, but it was dated twenty years ago and signed by the hick dealer 
in her small town.  Who's to say?  My understanding is there's not 
another one like it on the continent.  I've been tracked down by 
strangers.  I have several standing offers in the six-figures, updated 
each year.  I call it my retirement fund."
	
"No doubt.  God what happens in case of fire?"
	
"Well.  My great-aunt has the wherewithal to maintain a policy in my 
name.  And I reckon I'd sit down and have a long hard cry."
	
We stayed there standing around until finally I shook my head.  "Oh, 
hey, get you something to drink?  Something I can do for you?"
	
Jake looked at me, blinking then remembering.  "Oh yes, as a matter of 
fact.  I came over to see if you could perhaps do me a small favor.  No 
pressure.  I don't want to create an imposition or anything."
	
"Shoot."
	
"Well, I've got to run out for a few hours and do some errands, and I 
was wondering if you could go over to our place and keep Ellen 
company.  It's kind of irrational and all, but what can I say?  We've 
had some mystery calls lately that have gotten her sort of rattled.  She 
won't come with me and she won't unplug the phone because her mom 
usually calls around this time for a long chat.  It's too last minute for 
any of her friends to come over.  So, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd 
go over and hold the fort, screen the calls.  So I can go out and do 
what I need to get done.  I mean, don't put yourself out or anything."
	
"Sure," I shrugged.
	
"Really?" he brightened.  "You don't mind?"
	
"No problem.  You're staring at the same walls that were on my agenda 
for the day."
	
"_Great!_  It may seem like little to you, but it means a lot to me.  I 
owe you big time."
	
"Oh god no," I waved him off.  "You can feed my cat and water the 
plants when I'm on vacation or something."
	
We walked out together.  "I'll probably gone three hours tops," he 
winced, "two hours minimum."
	
"That's fine.  Whatever."
	
"But it might just be like ten minutes for you.  Her mom calls, then 
Ellen can unplug the phone.  After that feel free to do as you please.  
Really!"
	
I gave him a playful push, "Go, Jake, _go!_"
	
He clapped me on the shoulder, "Thanks," then went off down the walk.  
"Oh, by the way, I should warn you.  Her mom's kind of deaf, and she 
had some nodules removed from her vocal cords a few years back, so, 
you know, she can sound like a whacked-out crazy herself."
	
"Good warning," I laughed, waving him away.
	
I went in their building and straight up the stairs, bypassing the 
buzzer.  A tense mood would send you through the roof.  I knocked 
lightly on their door.  I didn't wait for her to have to use the peephole.  
"Hey Ellen, it's me, Edwin."
	
The door flew open.  Ellen's eyes were still those of a doe, but now the 
eyes of a doe about to be pulled down by a pack of wolves.  She flung 
her herself into my arms, nearly in tears, "Oh thank god!  Oh thank 
you, thank you, thank you!"
	
While I was certainly enjoying the show of appreciation I brought it 
gently to an end as quickly as possible.  I was on a mission of mercy, 
not a mercenary mission.  It felt great having her pressed so tightly up 
against me, and I would have let it linger, never being one to be above 
enjoying the odd vicarious thrill, but it felt _so_ great that it wouldn't 
have been much longer before she started feeling exactly how great it 
was making me feel.  I was instantly alert to the dangers of an erection.  
The hitch of my cock.  The scenario wouldn't unfold into the erotic 
interlude of my fantasies.  It would be straight out of Hitchcock.  The 
shock of realization on her face.  Alone in her apartment with the kind 
genial neighbor from across the way, _who was in fact the phone-calling 
maniac!_  I mean, I wasn't, but there'd be the big butcher knife in my 
gut to prevent me from dispelling the mistake.  The phone would ring.  
And it wouldn't be mom!
	
"Hey, nice layout!" I stole Jake's joke, "but wow, _déjà vu_."
	
She smiled very weakly.  "Jake's a fairly shy guy.  I gave him that to 
break the ice."
	
"Nice line," I nodded, feeling like a total dork.
	
I steered Ellen over to the couch and sat her down.  "Okay, you can 
relax now, okay?"  She pulled me down beside her.  She insisted on 
keeping my hands in hers on top of her thigh.
	
"I'm sorry, I feel so stupid," her voice quavered.
	
"No no no," I consoled her, "I'm sorry this creep keeps calling."
	
"I shouldn't, you know, get so upset, but god, he's making a wreck out 
of me."
	
I nodded, "New number, unlisted, first thing in the morning?"
	
"Oh, exactly.  But what really has me shaken is I think this is someone 
who knows me somehow.  He knows my name, and it's not included in 
the listing.  Well, among his many errands, Jake promised to pick up an 
answering machine, and one of those things that logs the numbers of 
incoming calls."
	
"Wise idea," I answered.
	
The phone rang.  We both startled.  Ellen shot it a look of pure terror, 
then jerked away, her eyes on me big pleading pools.  I took my hands 
out of hers and stood up, "Hey, it's probably for me."
	
"Hello?"  Big bunch of heavy breathing.  I waited long enough to make 
sure it wasn't her mom, then continued calmly, "Go take your asthma 
medicine, _asshole!_"  I hung up the receiver and shrugged.  
	
Ellen was melting with relief.  She stood up wringing her hands.  "Can 
I, I mean, should I, that is, are you hungry?  How about, I could you 
know, maybe, make us a little lunch?  Soup, sandwiches, chips, anything 
you want?"
	
"Sure, that'd be great," I replied.  I wasn't particularly hungry, but 
she definitely needed something to do with her hands.  I followed her 
into the kitchen.  I agreed with everything she showed me, figuring the 
more she had to make, the longer she'd stay occupied.  I made the offer 
of assisting, but she would have none of it.  I thought about returning 
to the livingroom, but that seemed a little rude.  Not to mention dull.  I 
could sit in there and stare at the walls.  Or I could sit down at the 
little table, chatting and watching Ellen at work.  The innocent little 
pleasures of watching her bending and stretching and reaching.  That 
was reward enough for my troubles.  I wasn't at all obvious in my 
attentions, though I'd see a half-smile on her face when she would do a 
sudden half-turn.
	
My reverie was interrupted by the phone ringing again.  I stood up 
with an exaggerated sigh.  It was the same panting shit.  I slightly 
muffled the mouthpiece with my hand, then whispered loud enough for 
all three of us to hear, "Officer, have you got the trace going?"  I 
hung up last.
	
I received a standing ovation, even if it was the applause of one.  I 
returned to find the table laden with my victory feast.  There was 
enough food for a small party.  Quickly the truth shone through that 
neither of us had much of an appetite.  I picked up my spoon and ate 
most of my bowl of soup because it tasted as good as it had smelled.  
Ellen used her spoon as a prop, stirring her soup until it had gone 
cold.  She nibbled about half her sandwich, while I consumed less of 
mine.  The meal was thoroughly awkward.  We were mostly silent.  The 
few attempts at conversation fizzled.  It was like being on a first date, 
only far worse.  It was like being on your very first first date.  Every 
now and again Ellen would look up from her lap and toss me a brilliant 
smile.  
	
I was so relieved, I caught the phone on the second ring.  It was the 
jerk again, in a little more talkative mood.  I listened more intently, 
then remembered Jake's caution, and sure enough.  Striding back into 
the kitchen I announced, "Hey, it's your mom!"
	
Their phone had an ultra long cord.  After gabbing a minute, Ellen took 
the phone back in the bedroom and closed the door.  I sat at the table 
for about five minutes.  I'd moved to the sofa by the time she came 
back out, but in the interim I'd wrapped up all the food and put it 
away in the fridge or appropriate cabinets, washed the dishes, and 
stopped myself just shy of getting out the mop.  I heard the small 
plastic sound of the cord being unplugged from the jack.  She looked 
for me first in the kitchen, then found me where I was.  "My goodness, 
you are an all-round miracle."
	
"Well," I shrugged, "pig at home, prince in the world.  It was really my 
mess anyway.  I had you make it to keep you busy."
	
"How can I ever repay you?"  Ellen had a whole repertoire of brilliant 
smiles.
	
"You already did.  I can go home now and not have to make a lunch 
mess of my own."  I stood up to go.
	
"No no no no no," she strode over quickly, put her palm on my chest 
and pushed me back down to the sofa.  "No, no, no . . . hmmm, _I 
know!_" she brightened.  "Wait right here."
	
She disappeared down the hall into the bedroom again.  She was gone 
long enough I thought I should either sneak out or go find the vacuum 
cleaner.  She returned empty handed, but I noticed immediately she'd 
changed her pants.  The baggy blue jeans were gone, replaced by a 
tight pair of thin white cotton pants that I'd come to regard nearly as a 
best friend.

Ellen did a few slow turns, stopping with her back to me.  "How's 
that?" she turned to ask over her shoulder.
	
_That_ was excellent.  I could see quite clearly that not only were her 
panties high cut bikinis, but they were pink, banded in red, and 
patterned with little roses.  "I've noticed that you enjoy these pants a 
great deal."  I gasped and she giggled.  "You think a woman doesn't 
notice when a man stares at her ass everytime she walks by?"  She 
started backing up towards me.  "Why do you think I seem to be 
wearing these pants all the time?  Ever occur to you that I went out 
and bought three pairs just like them?  It's okay, Edwin, we're not out 
in the courtyard.  You can touch me with more than your eyes if you 
like."  

I was a moth, my hands fluttering to the bright light.  I'd barely 
touched her when the pants slipped down off her hips.  I hadn't even 
noticed her hands, busy undoing the front.  Ellen shook her ass a few 
times and they slid down to her ankles.  She stepped out of them, let 
me savor the view, then turned around.  "I'm done talking to my mom, 
Edwin.  The phone's unplugged."  She lowered her voice to an 
unnatural level, "_Feel free to do as you please.  Really!_"
	
Things were turning really weird really fast.  But that didn't stop my 
hands from flying directly back to her flame, alighting on her hips.  
"Do you like my pretty flowers?  I figured you might."  She removed 
one of my hands and placed it between her legs, cupping me cupping 
her, rubbing my fingers against her fabric covered mons.  "If you make 
me come in my panties, they're yours."  

She was already quite damp.  With very little pressure the thin strip of 
cloth slid up between the slipperiness of her swollen labia.  She pressed 
my hand harder against her while thrusting her pelvis downward to 
increase the pressure even more.  I elevated my middle finger a little 
from the rest of the pack, letting it slide right into the groove.  

"That's it, baby, she cried with a wild expression, "_use_ that fuck 
finger, uh huh, a little higher and you're going to win that prize!"  The 
crotch of her panties were quickly nearly dripping so I shifted the action 
slightly, found her little button, and started rubbing it furiously.  Her 
mouth opened slowly, wordlessly, all the way wide while her eyelids 
lowered at the same pace.  Ellen drew in a long loud breath, then grew 
rigid for a second, all the air in her lungs escaping in an endless groan 
as her limbs buckled.  She crumpled to her knees, between my knees, 
her arms catching on my legs all that kept her completely from the floor.
	
When Ellen recovered from her fall she gave me a sleepy, tousled, 
nearly drunken look.  She slid her arms off my thighs and then down 
between them, forcing my legs further apart.  Then she brought her 
hands back up, holding the hem of her shirt, which she lifted up over 
her head, leaving it to flutter to the floor.  My guess that she wasn't 
wearing a brassiere was confirmed, but she left me little time to admire 
the full sway of her breasts, crawling up in my lap to plant wild kisses 
all over my face.  

But then she scooted forward some more, pointedly offering her breasts 
to my mouth.  "I've noticed you seem to like the looks of these as well.  
The famine of fantasy is over; now it's time for you to feast."  And feast 
I did, nudging and nuzzling, kissing and licking, sucking and suckling 
first one breast, then the other, then the first, then the other.  It was a 
back and forth motion I could have enjoyed for hours.  The feel of them 
in my hands was wonderful as well, but my hands felt an urgency to 
slide around to her back, slipping slowly down to squeeze the widened 
posture of her ass, through the fabric then ducking under the elastic to 
grip the full glory of her flesh, grinding her down against me.
	
"Careful you don't get a big wet spot on the front of your pants," she 
giggled in my ear.  Soon Ellen straightened up and leaned back, leering 
down at me, moving her hands to rub against mine through the thin 
skin of fabric.  "Why don't you take these off, Edwin?  You earned your 
prize.  And who knows, you might find a prize inside the prize."
	
Ellen stood up before me.  I leaned over from my sitting position and 
pulled the panties down until gravity sent them to her ankles.  She 
stepped out of them daintily.  The full waft of her arousal hit me like a 
narcotic.  All I could do was sit there staring at her pubic area, the 
hedge of curly hair and the pinkish hints of her delights below.
	
She snapped me out of my daze by mentioning my name.  "Edwin?  You 
probably can't see your next prize very well from this angle.  Let me 
improve on it."  Ellen took the two steps to the end of the sofa, then 
climbed on, crouching on her knees, her forearms resting on the arm of 
sofa.  The view was indeed much more graphic in its presentation.  
"Earth to Edwin," she again interrupted my trance, "I believe it's time 
for you to take off your pants."
	
As though under hypnosis I stood up and did just that, losing the 
shoes and socks along the way.  "Shirt too," she smiled.  With every 
stitch out of the way I stood there with my cock jutting out in all its 
glory.  Watching me over her shoulder she gave a low whistle, "Oh . . . 
my . . . goodness!  Why don't you just plant that right here," reaching 
a hand underneath her to point out the very spot.  I glanced over at 
the naked glass of the windows.  "Don't worry," she whispered, "yours 
is the only apartment that could see me at this angle.  And you're 
already here to see me at this angle."
	
The sight of her was so mesmerizing, the full round globes of her ass, 
her cunt wet and split like a ripe fruit.  I crawled up on the sofa 
behind her, holding myself to make the plunge.  As I moved into 
position her hand reached back to grab me.  "Here," she intoned, "let 
me give you the guided tour."  She slid me inside her past the head of 
my cock, then her hand returned to her other gripping the armrest.  
"Edwin, we don't have too much time, but let's take it slow.  I want you 
to go home convinced of one thing:  that this afternoon you had 
absolutely the best fuck of your life."
	
I took her words to heart, taking almost a minute to fully bury myself 
in her sheath.  With the third repetition I felt her stiffen, then let go 
with a throaty moan.  I had to stop completely, biting my lip to blood.  
Ellen had the most amazing vaginal muscles I'd ever endured.  Her 
pussy was doing its best to ensure that I flood it right then and there.  
When her orgasm subsided and she felt me still stiff inside her, she 
blessed me, "Good boy, Edwin, _very_ good boy!"  She pushed back 
against me.  "My cunt has been so ready for this from the first day I 
laid eyes on you.  You and your eyes, you bastard!  Your eyes on my 
ass like fingers slipping down to rub my pussy.  Your eyes on my tits 
making my nipples feel tweaked.  Your eyes on my face exactly like the 
taste of your luscious lips."
	
I hardly had to do anything!  Ellen kept coming like a woman possessed.  
And she was possessing me.  I could barely move for fear of bringing 
on the crash of my own ending.  She swiveled her ass like no woman 
I'd ever known, until I had to grab her hips to hold her steady.  She 
gave a little laugh, then changed directions, bucking back and forth.  I 
slammed into her hard and fast just to drive her to distraction for a 
few seconds.  I'd never encountered sex so excruciating and agonizing, 
weird and wild in such inaction.  I dove forward, nipping all over her 
shoulders.  "God Ellen," I gasped, "you are fucking amazing!"
	
"The pot and the kettle," she hissed, "calling each other black, you 
amazing fuck you."  She was ascending again into serious orbit, 
slamming her ass backwards, her pussy positively milking me.  When she 
reached back and gave my balls a quick little squeeze I didn't even try 
to resist.  I was grateful to being going along with her on the big trip.
	
I lay there collapsed on top of her collapsed on the couch.  Ellen didn't 
look particularly comfortable, so I pulled out, lost my balance and fell 
backwards onto the remaining cushions.  I'd read somewhere once that 
male orgasm triggers the release of the brain's pleasure chemical.  It's 
called positive reinforcement.  The compound is molecularly next door to 
morphine.  Both substances use the same receptor.  I lay there 
lingering on the edge of a lethal overdose, a big goofy grin on my face.  
Ellen turned around pleased by what she saw.  She bent down and 
licked my cock clean, then reached over to snag her shirt from the 
floor.  "I hope you enjoyed your lunch.  I sure did.  Did you get 
enough?  Mmmmm.  I wish you could stick around so we could share an 
afternoon snack but . . . you know . . . it's getting, um, _late_."
	
I took the hint, successfully attaining an upright position.  I gave 
myself directions:  underwear first, _then_ pants.  Socks, shoes.  Don't 
forget the shirt!  I hurried as best I could.  It wasn't Jake I was 
worried about so much as the cops.  No telling what the old man living 
downstairs had thought about the commotion.  My ears were still ringing 
from the moments when we sounded more like multiple murders than 
multiple orgasms.  Maybe there'd been a screamer or two in his life.  
Though maybe all he'd ever known was his dearly departed wife.  The 
cherished memories of a mousy woman who'd quietly indulged him in his 
pleasures.  I didn't want to stick around to find out which was right.  I 
was glad to go, much as, glancing up from the shirt buttons to see 
Ellen gazing at me, it would have taken just the tiniest gesture to 
persuade me to stay.
	
I walked over to her, our smiles ready to conjoin.  We shared a heady 
kiss that allowed my hands the time to roam back around to give her 
ass one last long grope.
	
"Thank you, Edwin.  Thank you very much.  For everything."
	
"No, thank _you_, Ellen.  The pleasure was all mine."
	
"Oh no it wasn't," she trilled.
	
"Anytime . . . " I began.
	
She put her finger to my lips, shushing me with her lips as she led me 
to the door.  She left me to cross the room, where she bent down 
treating me to a final grand view.  Then she straightened up and 
returned.  "Don't forget these," she smiled, holding the panties briefly 
to my nose before tucking them in my pocket, stuffing them deep in my 
pocket, rooting around in my pocket, her hand in my pocket reaching 
over to give my cock a little squeeze.  Then it was out the door with 
me!
	
I walked across the courtyard carrying very few regrets.  There was a 
lot of confusion surrounding the encounter, but I wasn't going to get 
all bent up over the singular nature of the occasion.  It seemed pretty 
obvious that Ellen regarded this as a one-time fling and I certainly 
wasn't going to push it.  Hell, she was married, and such affairs usually 
wind up awfully messy.  Judging by the newspapers, the third party 
usually gets himself blown away.  It'd make sitting out on the stoop 
difficult for awhile.  I resolved to go out and find my own girlfriend.  
Though not immediately.  I'd let myself cool down a bit.  Wait until I 
could sit out on the stoop again without draping myself in a cloak of 
weird emotions.  That would be the fair thing to do.  Because really, 
with no disrespect intended to anyone I might ever meet, I was going 
inside to jot it down exactly as Ellen had predicted.  _Dear Diary, this 
afternoon I had absolutely the best sex of my life!_  I could cut off my 
pecker and still be happy.
	
Back in a more realistic land, I realized I was ravenous.  I wolfed down 
a couple slices of cold pizza, then decided to go take a hot shower.  
Fresh and clean and wearing my terry robe I found the cat napping at 
the head of the bed.  I crawled up beside her.  She opened her eyes 
listlessly, the closed them again.  I smiled and imitated her.  The second 
my eyes shut I was gone.
	
It was dark when I woke up.  The cat was gone.  I got up and turned 
on some lights.  I reheated a cup of coffee, then went to my new 
favorite window for a smoke.  I thought about dinner, but didn't feel 
like doing anything about it yet.  I went and brushed my teeth and 
thought about getting dressed, but it seemed like such a great effort 
for no real purpose.  The robe was really the most comfortable article of 
clothing I owned.
	
I went back and sat at the window, thinking, thinking, thinking.  
Thinking about nothing, really.  Synapses in my brain just sort of 
firing off at random.  The lights were on over at Jake and Ellen's, with 
all the blinds down.  Then all the lights went out.  Oh well, whatever.
	
The newspaper.  I realized I'd never gotten around to going out and 
getting one.  That would give me something to do, add great purpose 
and meaning to my life.  Come back and give greater thought to dinner.
	
So I started thinking about simple mundane matters such as clothing.  
Shoes.  Coins for the paper.  It took tremendous effort to get to my 
feet.  The chair didn't want me to leave.  Then I was standing in the 
middle of the room, looking around in confusion, a blank head on my 
shoulder.  Clothes, I remembered, oh yeah, clothes.  Put some on.  
	
The silence was broken by a soft wooden rapping.  What the hell was 
it?  It came again, _tap tap tap_.  Ah yes, the door.  I strode over and 
opened it, without thinking of the peephole, without thinking of my 
bathrobe.
	
Ellen stood there smiling.  I couldn't say a word.  She didn't wait for 
me to say a word, pushing the door wider, brushing past me and 
stepping into the middle of the livingroom.  I stood where I was like a 
carved wooden moron.  She addressed me in a perky tone, bordering on 
mockery, "You can close the door now if you like, Edwin.  By the way, 
nice formal wear."
	
"I uh, I wasn't really expecting company."  I didn't much care for her 
attitude, but her attitude was overwhelmed by her attire.  She wore a 
simple yellow dress that left me wondering how a few pieces of flat 
cloth could be sewn together to cling so tightly to so many disparate 
curves.  The yellow was more of a tint, lemon yellow, the yellow of 
lemon chiffon pie.  Ellen looked like a lemon chiffon pie fresh from the 
oven, steamy and hot and delicious.  I wanted a slice, I wanted more 
than a slice, I wanted to plunge my face into the pie and gobble up the 
whole goddamn thing.
	
"Well," she gave a pouty look of disappointment, "if you're not, if you're 
not in the . . . _mood_ for company right now, I guess I'd better go."
	
It was a ruse, a ploy, a twist of bullshit, and I knew it.  But the 
knowledge didn't matter.  I _slammed_ that door shut like just like 
_that!_
	
My action brightened _her_ mood.  "I thought I'd pop in," she said 
seductively, "because I had something I thought you might like to see.  
Something I wanted to show you."
	
"Oh?  What?"
	
Ellen reached down and pinched the hem of her dress, drawing the 
fabric up to her waist.
	
Jesus Fucking Christ!  I'd started this day like every day of my entire 
life.  Sure, women's underwear can be sexy gossamer things.  But 
suddenly in the course of barely six hours I was on the verge of 
developing a full-blown panty fetish!  The ones she was wearing were 
the palest lavender, cut way low on the hips, and nearly too skimpy to 
be seen without the aid of a microscope. 
	
"I want them," I gasped.
	
"Then come and get them," she giggled.
	
"Come here," I demanded.
	
"No, you come here," Ellen commanded.  She gave a slow twirl to show 
me all the sights.
	
Put that way, I obeyed.  I ended my approach on my knees, kissing the 
tiny triangle.  She let the dress drop, the fabric floating down over my 
head.  I could smell how freshly showered she was, but even so the 
scent of her arousal was enormous in my nose.  Geez, talk about guys 
spending their days walking around with erections.  The crotch of 
Ellen's panties wasn't damp--it was soaking wet.  I hadn't even touched 
her beyond the wing brushings of my kisses.  Though I quickly 
corrected that.  I caressed the pouch with my fingers, then moved my 
kisses lower, making them stronger, letting my tongue dip down for 
some action.  Fetish or no fetish, the panties had to go.  I wanted to 
taste her directly.  I stretched the elastic over the fullness of her ass, 
coaxing them down past her thighs until the panties became a spent leaf 
in autumn, drifting slowly to the ground.  This was of course an 
awkward position for me to fully enjoy her charms, so I started nudging 
her backwards toward the sofa.  
	
Ellen instead pulled me to my feet.  "Right idea, wrong location."  She 
glanced to her right.  "I want to be laying in your bed."
	

I glanced to _my_ right, at the night bared beyond my windows.  She 
noticed and hissed, "Yours are the only opened blinds in the complex!  
No one's watching us."  This was true, and besides, she was already at 
the foot of the bed, facing me.  Ellen stared at me as her arms 
contorted behind her, working the zipper down.  She gave a shrug and 
the dress fell from her shoulders, landing around her feet like a 
rumpled sun.  But she in fact was the sun, standing there nude blazing, 
leaving me nearly blinded.  I squinted and blinked just to catch a 
glimpse of her glory.  The ancient civilizations had the hierarchy of the 
deities absolutely correct.  Except they had it totally backwards.  The 
moon was the male's pale imitation.  Modern monotheism, fuck that!  I 
could plainly see exactly what I needed to worship.  As I approached, 
Ellen hoisted herself back up on the bed, sitting, her legs spread at the 
edge.  "Lose the robe, Edwin, lose it now.  Then come to dinner."
	
I knelt before my new god, and attended to my devotions.  "Show me 
how much you love my pussy, _show me!_"  I had no problem doing 
exactly that.  The first small taste of her had me wild for more.  And 
more, and more and more.  I lavished my tongue upon her, dipping, 
darting and swirling.  I slid my hands between the bedding and her ass 
to hold her all the more firmly.  I moved to suckle her clit like a 
nipple.  I longed for her to cream all over my face, and soon enough I 
was rewarded, again and again, hugging her lunging hips, never 
wanting to let her go.
	
Eventually I had to move up on top of her or lose a pair of hanks of 
my hair to her hands.  Ellen kissed me like she was trying to devour 
my face.  "Go, baby, _go!_" she groaned.  "Fuck me now, fuck me crazy, 
fuck me with that big fuck stick, fill me up with fucking, fucking fill 
me up, fucking fuck me, fucking fucking fuck me fuck me."
	
With each thrust we scooted further up on the bed.  I was fucking 
fucking fucking her whatever.  I was just glad each time she peaked 
that I was able to relax a little for more.  I'd already annotated my 
diary:  _And then this evening I had absolutely the best sex of my life 
again!_  I wanted to ensure that there was no doubt in her mind as to 
the same thought.  And so I started up again, me the coal in her tender 
spilling into her boiler, sending her huffing and puffing down the track 
some more.
	
As she came again with a long wail I went plunging ahead, thinking 
there was no way I could last for another round.  Ellen's cunt muscles 
were still contracting, pumping away at my cock, when she suddenly 
pushed at me and squirmed out from under me, my cock sliding out of 
her with an audible _pop!_  Talk about just about popping the cork!  I 
was one shook up bottle of champagne.
	
My look was an agonized one, astonished and afraid.  All that pent-up 
sperm was going to back up and give me permanent brain damage!  
Ellen flicked the tip of my nose with her tongue, then gave me a big 
lewd smile to calm my fears.  "Don't worry, silly!" she said, rolling us 
over.  "We just need to be sure to get in a good view."  She sank down 
on my shaft with a smug look of intense satisfaction.  By golly, the 
brief breather had calmed me down enough I was ready to go another 
full round.  

I would well admit that the view was indeed very nice from this 
position.  The sexy set of her face was well within sight, nicely focused 
in the mid-distance, and her breasts hung down just waiting for my 
hands to cup them.  Nevertheless her phrasing did have me confused.  

Ellen read my expression, and answered.  "I lied.  You don't really mind 
too much, do you?" languidly sliding up and down my shaft.  "Someone 
_is_ watching.  But that doesn't diminish your pleasure, does it?  
Doesn't feel like it to me.  You do like screwing me, don't you?  I'm a 
hot little fuck, aren't I?  It's pretty obvious that I'm having the time of 
my life with you.  You get me _so_ juicy.  I bet you've never had a 
pussy as wild as mine.  Just think, we can do this all we want.  We can 
fuck each other crazy all we want and whenever we want.  As long as 
someone's watching.  From a distance.  That's the only stipulation.  But 
it's an absolute one, honey.  If you can't agree to that one condition, 
then it's _never again_.  And I know I would greatly regret that.  So, 
what do you say?"
	
I had absolutely _nothing_ to say!  
	
Ellen slowed the action way down, letting the words sink in, letting me 
sink in.  "So what do you think?  It's your decision.  Would you like 
for us to be able to keep on balling our brains out?"  She wiggled 
lustfully.  "Don't worry about right now.  I'm going to ride you all the 
way to heaven.  After all, we are being watched.  Besides, this as sort 
of an introductory offer.  And it's definitely in my best interest to do 
all I can to guarantee repeat performances.  So how about it?  Care to 
become the exclusive member of Ellen's Panty-of-the-Night Club?  The 
anytime-day-or-night club."
	
"It would be my greatest pleasure," I managed to croak.
	
Ellen bent down over me, rubbing her breasts against my chest, her 
mouth making viper strikes on mine, "You better believe it, baby!"
	
"I still don't quite get it.  Even with all the lights on, it can't be a 
very clear or, um, satisfying view."
	
"Oh?  Well, see, Jake has a big, fat, long strong telescope, sort of like 
yours," she giggled, "but that's not the kind I'm talking about.  He can 
see every hair on my pussy right now.  He'll be able to watch your 
balls contract when you start to blow your load.  He'll be able to count 
the drops of sperm that dribble out my slit."
	
"But why does he sit over there and jack off when he could have all 
_this_," I reached down to stroke her widely split lips, "when he could 
have all this for himself?"
	
"He really doesn't do that, he just watches.  He gets me all he wants," 
she told me gently.  "Jake's a wonderful lover, but he's not very highly 
sexed.  I'm the one who can't get enough.  This is our compromise.  He 
enjoys watching me.  He says I put on a better show than anything on 
t.v."  She shot me a wicked look, "I certainly agree this is _infinitely_ 
better than watching t.v.  Or watching me watching t.v.  What do you 
think?"
	
Think?  She expected me to think?  I couldn't think about anything 
other than the way her cunt was starting to convulse again, how she 
was grinding herself down, bucking madly up and down, how her breath 
had turned to pants, the panting going groaning, the groans starting to 
squeal, the squeals becoming shrieks and screams, the desperate sounds 
of a desperate pleasure, and how I was now an integral part of that 
pleasure, deeply imbedded in her pleasure, how her pleasure was now 
my pleasure, a wrenching, soul-searing pleasure, a volcano within a 
volcano erupting and exploding.
	
"I," I eventually spoke, "I don't even own a t.v.  And I don't think I'll 
be having any need of going out and buying one.  Not anytime soon."
	
Ellen smiled at me, curled up in my arms.  "Good.  Very _very_ good."
	
After a long period of little kisses, she disentangled herself from our 
snuggle, rose out of bed and started getting dressed.  She picked up 
the bouquet of her panties and tossed them at me with a broad smile.  
"For your collection!"  She turned to look at the secretary.  "That is a 
gorgeous piece," she admired.  "Gorgeous piece," she repeated, giving 
her hips a little shimmy for my benefit.  Then she shot me an incredibly 
saucy look.  "But I expect you'll be running out of drawer space rather 
quickly."
	
My mind had regained most of its functions by the time she was 
slipping into her shoes.  I grabbed my robe and got up to escort her to 
the door.  Something was nagging at me.  I rewound the tape and found 
it.  "Wait a minute.  Back there, you said . . . you said something about 
Jake not usually, you know . . . .  Um, _usually_?"
	
"Oh?  _Oh_.  Oh yea.  The couple across the courtyard at our old place.  
He wasn't anything special, though she helped to take up the slack."
	
I could barely believe my ears!  "Do you . . . still see them?"
	
Ellen's face clouded with incomprehension.  "See them?  Why, no.  We 
don't live there anymore."
	
"So . . . this afternoon?  The only business Jake really had to attend to 
was to go out and make a few phone calls?"
	
"Of course!" she answered gaily.  "He wasn't too happy about it, but we 
were getting sort of desperate.  We both knew that without a little push 
you'd never get up off your stoop and follow my bouncing ass.  He did 
get to have lunch at a diner.  And we do have an answering machine 
now.  Our old one got smashed in the move."
	
There was the one last wrinkle to iron out.  It was hardly a question, 
since a question implies an unknown answer.  "So what if . . . what if 
I'd said thanks for the most splendid evening of my life, but I don't 
really fancy being on closed circuit t.v.?"
	
"Oh, then," she replied without hesitation, "I guess the guy across the 
hall from you would have become my lucky lover.  Have you ever 
noticed," she gushed, nearly blushing, "how he stares at my ass even 
more than you."
	
I was staring at her, but not at that part of her, and certainly not in 
that way.
	
"But you were by far my first choice.  And I'm very grateful you made 
the right choice.  Because," she danced her crotch against mine, "I've 
certainly made the right choice.  So don't even think about him.  I'm 
certainly not.  I'm basically extremely monogamous by nature."  Her 
fingers traced lines from my cheeks down to my groin, "So, what are 
you doing tomorrow about this time?"
	
"I expect you'll find me standing right here with my hand on the knob."
	
"Your hand on your knob," Ellen grinned.
	
"_Door_knob," I scowled.
	
Her face beamed.  "_Grrrreat!_  Can't wait!"
	
I let her out and she blew back kisses all the way down the stairs.  I 
closed the door when I heard the front one groan open.  Then I went to 
the window and watched her walk across the courtyard.  I was staring 
at her ass, I suppose, not that there was enough light to see anything 
but the general hint of it.  Their apartment was still dark, but with one 
window open, its blinds all the way up.  I swear I saw a glint off the 
glass, the lens, like the wink of an eye.  Really, there was nothing for 
me to do but cast a desultory half-wave in Jake's general direction.
	
The lights came on in their livingroom.  The telescope was gone--the 
glint I suppose from his shifting it while putting it away.  I watched 
Ellen and Jake share a long hug.  Then they broke apart and Jake 
disappeared from view, moving, no doubt, to lower the blind.  In that 
brief moment, Ellen turned her back to the window, and as the blind 
rushed down I saw her reach around and give her ass a little pinch.
	
I fetched a beer out of the fridge and went to sit by my new favorite 
window.  I lit a cigarette and took a few drags.  The cat jumped up in 
my lap and started sniffing at me curiously.  I looked down at her, 
rumpled her fur.  When she started to purr I answered aloud, "Yup, it's 
a weird one all right.  That big beautiful world out there is weird and 
wild and utterly wonderful.  _Dear Diary, Strange day today; all days 
are strange._  And I can scarcely wait for the next one!"

=========================
Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome. losgud@hotmail.com
=========================
I am archived at DejaNews under "Author" name:  
LUSHGOD@HOTNOMAIL.COM


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