Being Watched

Being Watched.

I perform for and fall in love with my voyeur.

The floor to ceiling window on my first floor flat looks across a small communal garden to a fence beyond which there is a golf course. There's a row of trees and bushes covering most of the end of the garden with a gap of six feet or so through which I can see onto the course. It's a pleasant view with the rolling green fairways and in the distance a lake and more trees, poplars and silver birch, I think. Running along the other side of the fence on the golf course there's a footpath that's used mostly by ramblers and dog walkers.

One evening just as dusk was falling, I stood looking out of the window and a man with a dog appeared in the gap. He looked up the garden and at me. I looked back. He stood staring for a few moments and I moved backwards into the room. I poured myself a glass of white wine and returned to the window. He was still looking and saw me but made no indication or sign of greeting.

'Sod it,' I thought. 'Why should I move away, it's my view. Isn't it?'

He didn't move and we stared at each other for a few moments until his dog came bounding up and together, they moved away and out of sight.

I didn't think any more about it until three or four days later when it happened again. Once more it was dusk and I was looking out of the window with just a low wattage uplighter on in the far corner of the room from the window so, effectively, the light was behind me but as it was shining upwards it did not reflect onto the window and hamper my view but it probably made me more visible from the outside.

It was eerie. One moment I was looking through the gap across the golf course out to the lake and then the next there he was looking straight at me and I was looking at him. His sudden appearance startled me and made me jump, but I held my position and we stared at each other. He was of average height with brown hair and slim. Rather nondescript looking he did, though have an air of confidence no, more assurance about him though not arrogance or cockiness. How on earth I drew those conclusions at probably fifty or sixty feet I don't know? Probably they were more impressions than facts.

I guess we stared at each other for a couple of minutes when again I walked away from the window, across the room and poured a glass of wine. I toyed with switching the uplighter off but for some reason decided to keep it on knowing full well that it lit me up. I took the wine, red this time back to the window. He was still there. He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head slightly to his left, my right. I raised my glass and a slight smile formed on his lips.

When his dog, a golden retriever came ambling up to him a couple of minutes later, he raised his hand in a slight wave and was gone. I stood there for a few minutes trying to work out what was happening and coming to terms with my feelings that, I was amazed to realise included being mildly aroused.

The next evening, a Friday, I had been for a drink after work and was home later than usual. When I went to the window, he was already standing looking at the flats. He nodded when I appeared. I smiled and we stood looking at each other. As it was later and a little murkier, I realised the uplighter wasn't on so I went across the room, switched it on and returned to the window. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up, presumably for turning the light on. That made me feel good and I smiled. I felt more relaxed this time, he didn't seem to represent a threat and indeed, seemed to be a nicely turned out reasonably good-looking man. Probably about my age, forty-five, he looked to be the sort of guy I would drink with at the pub or go to watch football with, maybe even sleep with. I did my usual wine trick and he smiled broadly when I returned to the window with the half full glass. Lifting his hand up as though holding a glass he toasted me; I returned that and he leaned forward in a slight bow. We stood looking at each other for a few moments and then his dog ran up, he waved, turned and was gone.

I went to the kitchen to prepare a meal thinking about him. I couldn't get him out of my mind but couldn't understand why I couldn't. I was feeling rather tingly, a little bit like one does with a potential lover as the anticipation of what might happen gets to you. But nothing was going to happen, was it?

I was out Saturday evening and he didn't appear on the Sunday, obviously having different dog walking habits at weekends. That made me think that he probably did a dog walk when he got home from work and that made me try to work out why? Most dogs get walked in the mornings or late evenings. The conclusion I came to was that he lived alone with the dog so no partner. For some reason that made me feel good.

My expectations on the Monday evening were higher than usual. I wore a pair of blue jeans, rather tight all round and a white tee-shirt outside the jeans instead of the usual work trousers and white dress shirt. Going to the window a little earlier than usual my heart pounded when he was waiting for me and I smiled to myself as I had washed my hair just as if I were going on a date with him. He gave me a big smile and raised his hand in greeting. I smiled back and also waved. After a couple of minutes, I got the wine and we toasted each other.

I didn't work out what he was doing when he started lifting and dropping his head. Then I got it. He was exaggerating looking up and down my body, which sent little shivers through me. He directed his gaze upwards looking at my face and then moved it downwards until it was focused on my feet. Slowly he raised it until it was, or more to the point I imagined it was, staring at my midriff, maybe my bulge, which I realised was stirring. I was, I realised becoming aroused and I found myself arching my back and thus, pushing it towards him. He smiled and nodded his head several times and mouthed 'thank you' to me and then was gone.

I didn't go to the kitchen to prepare my evening meal but instead I found myself in my bedroom, stripping off and masturbating thinking about my man at the bottom of the garden.

I was on edge all the next day. I was looking forward to seeing him, wondering what would happen and what we would do? What did I mean I kept telling myself by 'what would we do? What could we do?' I was becoming obsessed with a stranger who just looked at me, waited for his dog and then walked off. I had no idea who he was, where he lived and what were his circumstances. I thought of getting in my car after we had stared at each other and following him when he came off the golf course, but that seemed against the spirit of our 'game' if that was what it was. Was it a game? I had no idea, but more and more his staring and my showing were in my mind. It was becoming more serious, more intense, and more oh I don't know but it was getting to me. I began looking forward to it and I knew that without doubt an underlying aspect was sexual. I became aroused when he stared at me and I became, possibly even more so, when I thought about it later.

I was now regularly masturbating about him. At the time I had no partner. I had been divorced from Kelly my gorgeous wife for just over a year and my long-term friend with benefits, who was the cause of the divorce had been transferred with his wife and four children to the USA and there were no other candidates for taking his place or sexual prospects on my radar. Maybe it was the lack of sex that promoted my interest in the voyeur at the end of the garden or maybe it was a desire to exhibit myself to a stranger in such circumstances? Who knows, I certainly didn't?

I knew that I had exhibitionist tendencies for I revelled in removing my towel by the jacuzzi at the male, and for that read gay or bi, spa, as guys stared at me. And how I so enjoyed being naked there as others ogled me and even watched as I went down on a guy or as one sucked me.

We were starting to communicate. Not verbally, still no word had been uttered and only the odd one had been mouthed. It was by facial expressions, hand movements and body language. We smiled more and he made it obvious that he was ogling my body. He indicated for me to turn round, to bend over, both forward and back and to turn sideways. And I did, willingly, perhaps almost eagerly.

I had started 'dressing' for him. During the day, thinking about what I 'would wear for him; skimpier clothes, gym gear, shorts and tighter jeans.

He was arriving earlier which was necessary as the days were shortening and staying a little longer, ten to fifteen minutes rather than the earlier five to ten.

Throughout the day he would come into my mind and my entire focus was on our 'meeting' in the evening. I knew that I was becoming obsessed. Not so much with him as a person but with the meeting. I knew that he was controlling and directing me, but I didn't know how or why I was letting him do that.

From his gestures and movements, I knew he wanted more. More of me. To see more of me, for me to show him more or what? Fuck knows I didn't as I had never had a voyeur seduce me before!

One evening after he had gone and I had left my 'viewing platform' I went to the bedroom and started to undress. I had removed my short-sleeved, black, silk shirt that I had left almost open with only a couple of buttons done up, and was about to take the tight, white denim jeans off when I stopped. I went back into the lounge and, although it was too dark now to see anything I looked to where I knew the gap to be wondering if he was there. Of course, I knew that he wouldn't be as, indeed, nobody was there nor, as far as I could make out on the golf course either.

Just beyond hedge and trees the footpath runs round the back of a green some twenty yards or so past it. Hence, as most golfers rarely hit through a green unless they are pretty good or terrible I saw very few golfers in the area where my man looked at me. I did worry at times that other dog walkers or the occasional rambler would look past him and see me when putting on a show and might report me, but in a way that simply added to the thrill.

I moved closer to the window. With the light behind me I guessed that had he have been there he would have seen clearly my now bare chest in the black shirt. Staring into the darkness pretty, but not completely, certain that there was nobody there I undid the button on the waist of the, slightly too, tight trousers that I had worn especially for my watcher, I slid the zip down and looking at my reflection in the window I slipped them down and off.

In just the open silk shirt and a pair of tight, black CKs I looked out to where he would be if he were there and imagined him looking at me. I felt my cock hardening as I went to touch myself. But then I lost my confidence and turning I walked away from the window and into the bedroom.

I used the floor to ceiling mirror as the substitute for my voyeur. Staring intently at myself I slid the shirt off and gazed, ridiculously lustfully given I was alone, at the clear outline of my cock inside the tight pants. Half wishing I had kept more of Kelly's panties I slid them off and, for some reason as it was not my usual masturbating practice I sank to the floor and lay there my hands squeezing and caressing my manboobs and my body. I spread my legs and my hand went down to find that shaft of such pleasure. It took little time after finding that and pumping it slowly but meaningfully to roar my mind and body to a massive orgasm brought about by the nameless man at the end of the garden.

That night I slept with him!

He was now staying longer, staring longer and looking longer at me as I stood closer to the window with the light behind me illustrating myself more clearly to him. Just like in a love affair, after two weeks each day that passed, each 'date' we had we went further.

Again, just like in an affair he had been suggesting that we do go further. He had held the lapel of his jacket and pulled it open. He had held his hands at his waist and reached down his legs and as if pushing his trousers down. I hadn't understood at first so I had shaken my head and raised my eyebrows. Like a new lover trying to get to a man's sexual parts, he persisted smiling. Then I got it, I understood what he was doing and what he wanted. That evening when it hit me and after he had left, I masturbated twice cumming very heavily both times.

Could I do it, do what he asked, what he wanted and what, reluctantly but eagerly, I realised I wanted as well? My arousal when he ogled me had been increasing by the day. I so looked forward to those moments when silently across the length of the garden we, in our way, made love. No fuck it, not made love that's romantic bollocks, we had sex, fucked, screwed shagged and simply just had each other. Well at least in our imaginations we did.

Before he left that evening, he'd held his hands just beneath his waist as though they were cupping and fondling his penis. Seeing him do that made it feel as if he was holding mine.

That gave me the idea.

The next afternoon I showered, washed and dried my longish but not overly so blonde hair and slid into a pair of black with white markings, cycling shorts that I had bought in a fit of ambition when I started to cycle to work. On top, I wore a white, silky sleeveless top that some called a tank and others saw as being similar to an athlete's singlet or vest. I remained barefooted.

I knew that my appearance was rather slutty and quite obviously raunchy but that seemed appropriate for the occasion and is what some boy friends like now and then.

After wrapping a large, white, fluffy towel round my shoulders around my shoulders and chest, switching the up lighter on and pouring a glass of wine I went to the window and looked out. Yes, he was there and that made my pulses race. He was going to see more for I was going to flaunt my body at him. I hadn't decided just how much or what I was going to do but as he now asked me to let him see me from numerous angles, he would inevitably see a lot of me. The shorts were skin-tight that I knew from posing in front of the mirror before coming on stage accentuated the roundness of my buttocks and bum and the fullness of my bulge, the top was thin and clingy emphasising the indentations of my pronounced, rock-hard nipples.

Standing staring at him I felt my arousal increasing. As his gaze so obviously roamed over my body it became stronger. Touching his shoulder as if it were my towel, he raised his eyebrows as if saying. 'Take it off.' With my heart pounding I held his gaze but did nothing for a moment or two. I watched him turn away from me and back sending me a clear message. Slowly, I turned round so that my bottom was in his direct line of sight. I looked over my shoulder and he gave me a thumbs up and bent forward almost to ninety degrees at the waist. I got the message and replicated that position. After holding it for a few moments, I straightened up and looked over my shoulder and saw that he was giving me the thumbs up with one hand and holding his crotch with the other and was smiling and nodding. This encouraged and reassured me that I was doing what he wanted as well as what I did and that I was not making a fool of myself. Still with my back to him I turned my head away from him and fiddled my now full erection from the confines of the shorts so that it reared straight up my flat stomach. Slowly I unravelled the towel and dropped it on the floor beside me. Then I turned round and revelled in the feelings I got as his eyes took in the sight indicating that I was very aroused.

It was a thrill, a big one, a very big one both to see his reaction and to have the surge of exhibitionist sensations roar through me. It was so like those times at the gay saunas when I had dropped my towel prior to going into the jacuzzi or the pool as several guys looked on. The buzz as they saw my semi was amazing and I had wanted to be fucked. And that's precisely what I wanted right now; to be fucked. A part of me wanted to open the window and ask him to come in and do just that, but I knew I couldn't and wouldn't and instead cupped my breasts in the thin top then lifted that up and presented my quite hairy and toned chest to him. Smiling, he clapped his hands and then pressed his thumb and forefinger together several time in a pinching movement as he pursed his lips into a kiss. I pinched my nipple and kissed him back then I turned away and went to my bedroom and laid on the bed.

I closed my eyes. Not to sleep but to think and wonder, and plan, and fantasise. I knew my voyeur was taking me over. He and what we were doing were consuming me and I was becoming more and more obsessed. I still, though, could not work out why I was so attracted to exposing myself to a man I had never met nor probably ever would. Why I wanted to flaunt my body at him, let him see my chest, my breasts, my nipples, my bottom, my stomach and the outline of my erect cock? Why even as a lay there I was imagining going onto my balcony and stripping off so I was naked and he would see my erect cock. As my hands, with no obvious instructions from my brain found my cock and balls under the smooth, shiny material of the cycling shorts and fondled them so lovingly my mind had me sitting on my haunches naked, my legs as far open as they would go whilst he inspected my most private places. I rather surprised myself to find my shorts were still on, I felt naked and wanted to be like that; I was so into thinking about him and pleasuring both of us that I had forgotten I was still wearing them. But somehow and for some unfathomable reason that seemed fine. It added to the sordidness of me masturbating after flaunting myself at my stranger, the horniness of me doing it fully clothed and the sluttishness of me not wearing underwear. I toyed with putting my hand inside the shorts but again it seemed more in keeping if I rubbed myself from outside and that's precisely what I did. Through the silky top I pinched and pulled my nipples and squeezed and fondled my breasts and through the lycra moulded to my stomach, arse and legs I rubbed and stimulated my cock and balls and fingered my arse pushing the material a little way inside me. I came very heavily indeed.

Just as in a traditional love affair it became inevitable that I would show him my body. Wordlessly I agreed with my alter ego to expose my entire body including my cock to him soon. They had become in many ways the focal point of our show. Every time I performed for him his gaze certainly focused on my bulge and so far, unseen to him cock, well at least I felt it did, but who can really tell from that distance? However, it's not the point whether his gaze did or didn't the real point is that I felt it did and I played to that. I arched my back and I thrust my lower torso towards him. The tops I chose were thin so that my hardened nipples made such obvious indentations that he would be sure to see them as, like women do, I pinched and pulled them imagining it was his teeth and lips doing that. But would we, could we stop there? Just like two lovers in real life the silent questions between us were: would I let him undress me and would I let him fuck me?

Although only a minor consideration, I knew it would be pretty safe exposing myself with him there or not. All the time we had been playing we had not been interrupted by anyone else either on the footpath or the golf course so it was unlikely we would in the future. Also, none of my neighbours in the flats either side above or below could see me though they could see him. I had smiled when it first occurred to me that some of them might could also be flashing at him and maybe it wasn't me he was ogling and gesticulating at? Fuck could there be a woman playing him as well?

Several times I had thought that he was going to expose himself to me and that maybe we would masturbate together but, of course I had not taken his potential audience into account and doing that would be an arrestable action. As it happens, I had no wish for him to do that, expose himself that is, though the idea of mutually masturbating with him had enormous appeal, but not with him fully dressed. I knew that if he got his cock out and started to masturbate, I would not be impressed as it would be a turn off for me. Apart from the fact that a fully dressed man exposing his genitals is not a particularly arousing sight it was completely against the rules of our game. Our game was me exposing myself to him and him looking, not vice versa! I'm not a voyeur but an exhibitionist.

In all the time we had been playing we had only missed three or four evenings, probably two each so I was feeling devastated when he didn't show up for over a week. The first couple of times were ok and understandable as it had happened before. But as I dressed for him in my showing outfits and went and stood by the window rather pathetically gazing and not seeing him I began to feel desperate.

There were so many questions: Was that it? Had he got what he wanted from me and from our performances?

Had he found another exhibitor, maybe one where it was more one to one, without the additional audience that the other flats surrounding mine produced? I felt so let down. Had my near lover diched me? Had we split up before I showed him my 'crown jewels'? Had he rejected me before we had sex?

Religiously each day I was at my window just before dusk with the uplighter on and the glass of wine, but the he didn't show up for nine days. After five or six days I began giving up. I felt like I had when I was younger and guys and girls had given me up, rejected, desolate, bemused and hurt.

But then on a Wednesday he was there. The terrible ten days vanished. My heart pounded with joy and arousal; I was on a sexual high. I almost opened the window and asked if he would like to come in and make love to me. But I didn't, that was not allowed, the rules of the game didn't permit it and instead we exchanged waves and smiles.

He ran his hand over his chest and I did the same. He inclined his head and raised his eyebrows. What did he mean, what did he want?

I cupped my breasts. He nodded and smiled but raised his eyebrows again.

I got it, I understood, I knew what he wanted. Just like two lovers, words weren't necessary. I took hold of the neckline of the thin, tight singlet and stared intently into his eyes. With my heart pounding as rapidly as my cock was swelling I eased it down the swell of my chest, over my breasts and nipples to bunch it round my waist. I thrust forward as if saying there you are, it's yours take it. He smiled and nodded his head several times before raising one arm upwards. I did the same, he raised his other a little way. Now I knew his body semaphore and I raised both my arms Above my head until they were almost at full stretch. That tightened each boob and pulled them up making them look as they had in my thirties.

He wasn't finished and I thought this might be the 'date' when he makes me get naked or when we have sex. But I was wrong, it was neither. This was all about my chest, his chest, our chest. He was taking things slowly just like a considerate lover should and does and I liked no, loved that. He made me bend to near ninety degrees at the waist again looking at him, to the side and then away from him. He opened his mouth as if taking my nipple into it, he made licking gestures with his tongue. I held them out to him so that he could kiss each breast and suck and chew each nipple.

I was rewarded with smiles and gestures and then he was gone.

I was so up, so high, the buzz was incredible as I went to my bedroom and masturbated imagining he wasn't at the end of the garden but between my legs. Boy did he fuck me well, but then I was using the thick, black vibrator I had recently bought online to simulate actual sex.

Then sod it that night the rains came. Heavy and almost all day for three days. Too much to walk the poor dog or to leer at me although I was ready. I missed him but felt sure he'd return. Alone and lonely without him my imagination went into overdrive thinking how I could be dressed for my lover, dressed to undress, dressed to show all yes, dressed to be fucked. Dressed as I knew shouldn't be, yes dressed in my lady's lingerie. Dare I? I wasn't sure, I had only worn it alone, with one lady friend and two guys, not at the same time. Never in public like it would be on y balcony!

Then on the Friday the sun came out and at just after six he was there waiting for me, staring, ogling and indicating. I was nervous. More so than usual. Why? Was this it, my big show, my nakedness? Was he going to fuck me? I didn't know, it wasn't my part to decide that was my voyeur's job, his job. He made the decisions and I carried them. That's how it was, how we wanted it. He was the dom in this distant love affair, I was the sub.

I was wearing a long tee shirt, a bit like a dress really and, nothing else; the hem was mid-thigh, about eight inches above my knees. It made me feel like a woman. I had bare legs and feet. It would be so easy for me to expose myself to him. That is if that was what he wanted, what he demanded and what he directed me to do.

I wanted that. I knew it now, for sure. I wanted him to see me, I wanted to show him my body and have him leer at me taking in my hairy chest, flat stomach, pert bum, dangling balls and rampantly hard dick.

Would I masturbate for him if he asked? I didn't know. I wanted to but then I wanted to most of the time especially when I was thinking about him. Oh those masturbations were so special, so strong, quick to start but long to carry on and so powerful. I was becoming addicted to them, I couldn't get enough. They had taken the place of my friend with benefits, they were now my sex life as my man, my voyeur had become my only lover.

The long tee shirt/dress was an instant hit with him. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up when he saw it. I didn't need instructions, I knew what to do, I knew what he wanted because it was what I wanted too, what we both wanted.

I pushed my chest out and turned to my left, then to the so he saw the outline of my body through the thin material. I was already erect I turned my back on him and stood for a minute or so and then slowly bent forward until I was ninety degrees at the waist. My arse was looking at him and he was staring at that and at my slightly parted legs. The skirt on the tee had ridden up and his gaze burned into my thighs. How far could he see I wondered. The tops of them? My cheeks? Between my upper legs? Maybe more, maybe everything, maybe my most manly places. Could he see my balls? Or my cock no, he wouldn't see that the angle was all wrong.

I straightened up and turned back to look at him? We stared at each other for some time. Did he know I was naked under it? Would he guess? Yes of course he would. To make sure I gripped the tee on both sides roughly at my hips and pulled on it stretching it. The thin material moulded to my curves, it snuggled to my breasts, outlined and emphasised the flatness of my stomach and even my nipples that were clearly illustrating my arousal. But that demonstration was nothing compared to the show that my full erection was putting on through the thin material that was clinging to it like a second skin.? It was so blatantly displayed through the material. My arousal for him and what I was doing for him. Was he aroused I wondered momentarily Was he hard for me? I wanted him to be. At that moment I would have done anything to see and have his cock. Against me, across my cheeks, on my lips, between my man boobs, pressing into my tummy, against my own cock and in the crease of my arse. Or in me making me speculate whether he was top, bottom or versatile?

He was staring, but then he always did though now there seemed to be a greater intensity to it. It was as if he knew we were reaching a seminal moment. A time when he would see all, I would display everything I had for him and a time when he might fuck me. I knew it, he now knew it and now we both knew it.

He was gesturing with his hands for me to lift the teeshirt/dress. He knew I would as he knew I would do whatever he wanted and demanded. He knew that I would because he knew that I wanted to. He must have done this before. Control men, make them do what he desired, get them to expose themselves to him as I was now. It was like a professional playing an amateur a well-established player against a newcomer.

He was waving his hands as an indicator for me to hurry up. Was he on a time limit? Maybe he did have a partner and dinner was at a certain time? He seemed always to stay no more than fifteen minutes or so. I had no control over the length of the performance. That was his domain as was everything we did.

He was simulating taking the teedress off. Running his hands from mid-thigh to his arm pits, then over his head. He wants to see everything, he wants me naked roared through my mind. He wants me exactly as I want to be for him. Oh fuck, dare I go that far? But then, dare I not as that might lose him for me? Then again was it too big a risk? Might a golf group appear or a flat dweller stroll into or view? Oh fuck, I was so confused but now roaringly aroused. My balls felt as though they were on fire and my cock so hard that it could explode. Hesitatingly I took hold of the hem that was around my mid thighs. I looked at him, I pushed my stomach forward thrusting my hard-on towards him. He smiled and nodded and mouthed 'yes do it,' I think but the added. 'Please.' That did it, that decided me and in one, probably too quick, movement I pulled the tee shirt up and bunched it around my neck. I was as good as naked for him and he could see everything. He was smiling and nodding and then he grasped his bulge with one hand and used the other to make a circular movement that he'd used several times now.

"He wants to see my arse," I said to myself as I turned and as I had several times now I parted my legs and bent forward so that he saw everything. Turning back to stare at him, I kept the teeshirt dress around my neck. He opened his eyes wider, smiled, clapped again then slowly he and his dog strolled out of my view.

After my 'full Monty' display he didn't show for a couple of days. Although it wasn't unusual I still worried and fretted especially when I stood on the balcony scantily dressed or, as I did the second night, naked.

Of course, I was questioning whether we had finished and I asked myself did I want that? My actions were becoming more outrageous, he was making me push things and I felt out of control. I knew that I was under his spell. He was like a Svengali to me. How far would he take me? I was so torn. The sexual highs and buzz I got from this affair were like nothing I had experienced before and of course I wanted more. But I likened it to what I had read about heroin addicts. They know it's a disaster waiting to happen but the rush is so appealing it overrides all else.

I decided to test the water on lady's lingerie. I had been using it as part of my sexual repertoire for some time now but usually only when alone and I wondered what his attitude would be? Many of the guys I'd been with either liked it or wore it themselves, but that was quite a small sample so I could no way claim that most gay or bi men indulged, I just hoped he did.

So, on the third evening as I waited behind the window in my flat hoping he would turn up I was just wearing a pair of black, lacy bikini panties, matching lacy topped hold ups and black strappy heels.

I was nervous waiting for him as after my fully naked performance there was really only one place to go now. Only one further act, one further thing to do. As in a real affair we had done the foreplay and completed the preliminaries. My lover had seen all of me. I had given him everything I had. My chest, my nipples, my bum, my thighs, my belly, my arse and my cock and balls. All were his now. There was no more to give, no more to reveal, no more to show him. There was just one more action. As in real life we had got to the point where there was just one more deed to be done between us. That was to make love me.

I moved an upright chair into the window beside where I stood waiting for him. I had relaxed now, actually a five pm glass of wine had done that and I felt confident he would be there. In the distance I saw his dog and then I knew he would be there, he would see me, he would look at me. Yes, he would watch me masturbate as both of us knew what that really was and that was two lovers fucking.

He smiled broadly when he saw what I was wearing. He raised his hand in one of those salutes that the royal family tend to use; a lazy lifting of the upper arm while the lower part remains by the side. I wasted little time. The ten to fifteen minutes he allowed me didn't leave much time for ancillary activities, it really was get to the main performance ASAP so I did.

I stood up and walked out onto the generous sized balcony, almost stumbling in the four-inch heels. His facial expression was worth the risks of him not being into women's' underwear or an unexpected visitor turning up. After a big opening of his eyes, he beamed a smile at me and did his usual silent clapping. I felt relieved and even more aroused.

I did my usual moving round while cupping and squeezing my manboobs He again raised his hands and blew me a kiss as he smiled broadly and raised his eyebrows. His appreciation of my piece de resistance thrilled me and encouraged me to go for the big one. To go all the way. It buoyed me up to reach the decision I had been contemplating and mulling over.

I pulled the chair closer to the window in fact as close as I could get it. Then looking directly at him I took my knickers off. Nothing that showy, just a slow sliding down my legs to around my ankles, a stepping out of them, then kicked away to be retrieved later. I turned so he could see my arse walked back into the room, bent down and picked them up then returned to centre stage in the window holding the black knickers over my cock so that was hidden from his view. Gesticulating for me to take them away his broad smile encouraged me so I lifted them up revealing my full erection and wiped them across my face.

I was tempted to masturbate for him but held back as time was running out so I mouthed.

"Tomorrow, be earlier or stay longer."

His furled brow and the shaking of his head told me he didn't understand, so I tapped my watch and mouthed.

"Longer."

His raised hand and the nodding of his head told me he'd got it.

Knowing pretty much exactly what I was going to do, I didn't bother dressing at all and I stood in my lounge naked waiting for him. He was dead on time. I felt incredibly nervous as I stepped backwards out onto my balcony in the nude.

I stayed looking away from him for a short while before turning to face him I showed him what I was holding and that produced an even broader smile and applause. It was the black, long, thick and shiny vibrator. Raising my eyebrows and holding my hands out towards him, palms up asking if I should, produced a vigorous nodding of his head. Realising that it was on and it was what he wanted made me even more excited and completed my erection.

This was it, the culmination, where everything we had done so far had been leading. He wants to fuck me. I guess that was inevitable, well had been inevitable all along. I had wanted it almost from the start and, of course, it was his right, his reward and my gift and payment to him.

He wants to watch me making myself cum. Climaxing by jerking off, masturbating and fucking myself and I want, no need to do that for him, that's my duty.

I turned the vibrator on not realising for a moment or two that he wouldn't hear its seductively sexual buzz. I ran it across my chest stimulating each nipple. It was a lovely sensation from the vibrator and a wonderful feeling to see his appreciation. He touched his stomach and ran his hand downwards indicating for me to use the vibrator on myself down there. A symbolic gesture to imply that he wanted to enter me, penetrate me, go in me and yes fuck me.

I sat down on the chair with my legs closed and ran it over my tummy and thighs. It was lovely. I pushed it down between my closed thighs so that it throbbed against my cock and scrotum. Leaving it there I removed my hand and pinched both nipples at the same time. I was getting near. Those familiar indications of an impending orgasm were building up. I knew I would cum, that my vibrator, my surrogate cock would make me cum. That my watching lover would fuck me to a powerful orgasm.

Holding the vibrator again I looked at him and opened my legs a little way and then closed them again as I looked at him. He spread his legs. I got his message and opened mine as I lay back in the chair. His huge smile and appreciative applause were my reward. I opened them further displaying my balls and cock to him as I teased the black vibrator all over them and between my legs to that lovely little super-sensitive patch of skin between my balls and the crack of my arse. I knew I wouldn't last, that was impossible. After all we had done, a long, lingering, languid fuck was not what was required. He was indicating to me to push it inside me and at that moment there was nothing more in the world that I wanted other than to be fucked, so I did. Slowly and surely, relishing every centimetre that it went up me I pushed the surrogate cock that fortunately I had remembered to lube up my welcoming arsehole.

The sheer act of pushing the two inches thick vibrator into me stimulated me enormously but when I turned it on and heard and felt that wonderful buzzing sound I felt as though my entire lower stomach would explode. Continuing with the vibrating, I pinched my nipples squeezed my balls and started to pump my cock as, at the same time I pushed the throbbing plastic phallus up and down inside me. The sensation was so intense that I had to fight to keep my eyes open to see my lover's expression as our relationship came to its natural and inevitable conclusion, my sperm shooting from me onto the floor of the balcony.