Across the Courtyard

Wednesday night - Emily

I slam the door closed behind me, I'm home at last.

What a day, thank fuck that's over. The office was freezing, that bitch Karen had the air con cranked up to freeze my tits off level.

My feet are killing me, these high heels are not designed for my feet.

I kick them off and they go flying in an untidy mess, fuck it I'll pick them up later.

The apartment is its usual quiet, well it is just little old me here. I turn on the lights to make it more homely and welcoming. The kitchen light, the lamp by the couch. A nice yellow warm light that makes it feel more cosy.

After the relief of the heels, off next is the office skirt. It's stretchy bought of the shelf thing that is presentable but shows off the curves of my big ass a bit to much for my liking.  The blouse gets pulled off and next the bra and I let my big boobs flop free. Ahh, that feels better as I grab them and give a squeeze and say to them ' we are home girls, you are free at last' 

I go grab a T shirt from the mess of clothes that lie about my bedroom, I won't bother with joggers for now as it's almost bedtime and head into the kitchen in my Tee and knickers.  

I need a drink as I'm thirsty, not boring water, I want a sugar hit that's cold and sweet.

The kitchen floor is freezing under my feet, should of worn slippers to go with my current attire. I yank open the fridge and immediately get a whiff of something stinky, oops, the fridge needs a clean out. I grab some orange, it's the one with bits that stick in my teeth. I open it and guzzle straight from the bottle like a true slob. Stop, give out a big burp from drinking too fast and then go again.

Who gives a shit, no one's watching. Right?  

But there's this feeling as I stand here in lazy slob mode. Like someone is watching me. It's been weeks now since I first felt it. Ever since I noticed a guy-I assume a guy-across the courtyard in one of the flats over there. A glow of light, maybe he's smoking or something. Maybe just my imagination.

Still. It's nice to think I'm being seen by someone, admired, it's just unfortunate it might be some psycho pervert.  

I put the orange juice away, my back to the window as I lean down with ass in the air into the fridge. That feeling gets worse, I'm making this up I'm sure, I'm becoming paranoid.

I turn slowly like I'm not looking anywhere and my eyes stray to the window. It's just dark out there but the apartment across the way feels darker.

I stare into the dark space, is he staring back. Maybe, fuck knows, but it makes my heart speed up a lot.  

Is he there? Is he actually watching me as I stare out of the window. Looking at my black knickers, at my big tits jiggling, free under the thin T-shirt. The thought of it hits me between my legs. This is fucked up, what the hell am I thinking. So why do I feel my nipples getting erect and my pussy starting to miaow.

I force myself to look away, give a shrug as if I'm imagining it all. Casual but I'm buzzing with something, fuck knows what it is. I know I'm lonely, it's how it is so maybe this has struck a chord. It's a connection. With some fucking pervert I laugh. Still it's a connection and I'm tired of being alone all the time.

I switch off the kitchen light and head into the living room. The dark room across the way is now directly in front of me. The soft light of the lamp still burns as I raise my arms up, stretch and yawn, normal stuff, it's been a long day. Then I bend down and touch my toes, I'm not as flexible I think as I strain to do it. My ass to the window, giving the empty window or whoever's there the full view of my curvy, I think, fat ass.  

I straighten up, my back killing me, I need to learn yoga. Before I can think better of it I turn to the window with a big stupid smile on my face. I blow a kiss while pulling the side of my tee up and caressing my breast. Then I turn and walk towards the bedroom. My hips swinging like supermodel on a catwalk.  

I don't look back. He's watching or I've made this all up and no one is.  

Tomorrow though, I'm going to wear the red lace thong, the one that barely covers a thing.

Wednesday night - Mark

She knows. Or suspects. Fuck.

He's been sitting in the chair in the pitch black for an hour, positioned so no light reflects anywhere near him. Total darkness. The armchair is making his ass ache and his knees are hurting from sitting still so long.  

He's waiting for her.

Her light in the living room comes on. The lamp that makes shadows but keeps the seat and floor in front bright enough for him to see everything.  

There she is, in the same T-shirt from other nights he's watched but with black knickers tonight. Clinging to that firm round ass of hers.

His hand moves to his dick, still in his boxers already beginning to throb. He pulls away, not yet.

She wanders about, heads into the kitchen the fridge, bending over. Jesus. That ass.

Swigs some orange straight from the carton, just like he always does.

His heart thumping, his legs numb from sitting too long forgotten. His stiffness is now focused on one spot in his boxers.

She comes to the window. Looks around as if searching. Her head turns towards him. Looking directly at him, he's panicking, fuck, can she see him. A small smirk and she turns and heads into the living room.

And starts stretching. Arms up, back arched. The T shirt rode up revealing the flesh of her stomach. She bent over, her big tits almost revealed by the moving shirt. Her hair falling down and the black knickers pulled tight over the round globes of her ass cheeks. Fuck. She stayed there, bent over, showing him.

He pulled his boxers down and his hand went straight to his throbbing cock and started stroking. Pre-cum already soaking the head of his uncut cock.

She straightened up and turned towards the window. She smiled, she fucking smiled at him. I know you are watching me you sad pathetic pervert smile.  

Then she raised her arms again. She was posing. For him. The thought made him dizzy as well as close to shooting his load.  

She looked right at him. Right at his dark window. The window where he was sure she could see fuck all. She raised her hand and blew him a kiss. Her other hand lifted her T-shirt and showed and squeezed her big juicy tit.  

He was stunned. She knew, somehow she knew. He should stand up and wave. Let her know he's there. Not some loser hiding in the dark.

But he didn't move, not even to stroke his cock.

She turned and walked towards her bedroom. Her hips swinging, that ass bobbing and jiggling to the rhythm of her strides. Her bedroom light came on, he saw her shadow move about the room and then she pulled the curtains closed.

Gone.

Mark sat there, unable to move. Hand still on his hard cock. Mind running through what he'd witnessed. How she knew, how the fuck did she know?

Tomorrow, tomorrow he was going to show himself. Stand in the light of the window. Let her see him. Could he do it.

Maybe then he wouldn't feel so.. alone.

Thursday night - Mark

He owed her. After last night when he was hiding in the dark like a fucking coward. Time to man up for once in his life.

He wasn't hiding in the darkness tonight. He'd turned on the lamp beside his chair. The chair that he hid in while watching last and every other night. Not tonight. Making sure that she could see him. If she wanted to.

Her light came on, she was home. He saw her moving about with only the hallway light on. He watched and waited, hoping she would look.

Her living room lamp came on and she was there, at the window. A wine glass in her hands. Staring directly towards him as he walked to the window. Revealing himself, at last.  

His heart skipped a beat big time. A black negligee struggling to contain her big tits and short enough to reveal her red tiny thong. Fuck. Was his tongue hanging out.  

He raised his hand. Just a wave. Acknowledging he saw her.

She saw. Raised her glass and smiled.

The game was on.

He turned away from the window and started to unbutton his shirt. His hands shaking to much. Fuck, he thought again, man up. He dropped the shirt, kicked off his trainers, pulled off his jeans and socks and stood there in his boxers. Cock hard as fuck, the bulge obvious. He didn't look at her. Just pretended he was alone getting ready for bed.

A few stretches, copying her from last night. His cock throbbing under the fabric. Is she still watching, the thought made him throb.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of boxers and pulled them down.

His cock sprang free, slapping and bobbing as it throbbed. Pre-cum already leaking. He just stood, letting her see him, exposed. His heart hammering against his chest.

Then he walked to the armchair and sat down. It was placed in perfect position. She could see everything.

He closed his eyes. Head back and wrapped his hand around the shaft of his cock and started slowly to stroke. Not just jerking off, he was performing for his audience. For her.  

His hips started moving, fucking his own hand. Groaning which each thrust up. He was already close. Hand moving faster, holding tighter, the heat and lust building. Wanting her to see. Wanting her to know what she did to him. His other hand on his balls, rolling and tugging them as he pumped the shaft of his cock.  

He pictured her in her negligee, big tits and her wet pussy soaking the red thong.

That did it.

He came hard, grunting, hips jerking up. His spunk shooting out over his hand, his stomach, hot and messy. Kept pumping till he had milked his cock dry. Breath ragged, breathless, sweating like a pig in a sauna.  

He sat for a minute, eyes closed, cock still twitching as it flopped into the mess of sticky cum.

Then he looked.

She was still there. Watching. Her hand on her breast.  

She set the wine glass down. Turned away from the window and stood in the middle of the floor.  

Then she started touching herself.

Hand moved over her tits, pulling them free. Large and heavy and fucking delicious, he thought. Her hand between her legs, pulling the thong to the side and touched herself. Rubbing with her fingers, her head thrown back, her hips moving to the rhythm, her fingers inside her. Putting on a show for him. Only for him.

His cock already stirring again as he watched her.

Her breathing was getting faster, her body was tense. He saw all this. She was close. He was leaning forward still in his chair. His hands and cock still sticky with his cum. He couldn't blink as he watched her.

She came. He saw it, her face contorted, her back arched and she shuddered as she let out an orgasmic moan. He couldn't hear but he sure as hell could imagine it.  

She stood there for a moment, recovering. Then walked back to the window on unsteady legs and looked to him. She smiled and blew him a kiss. Pulled the curtains closed.

The show was over.

He sat in his chair, trembling, covered in his own cum and heart beating like an oncoming heart attack.  

He had done it, they had done it. Actually done it.

Fuck. He wanted to do it again.

Friday night - Emily

The apartment feels different tonight. Her living room is not a place to slouch and slob, it's a place for sex.  

She's dressed early. It doesn't take her long. Just black bra and panties. That bra she bought and thought she never wear as it's makes her slutty. Tonight she wears it. Hardly worth calling a bra, barely covers any of her big tits.  

Looks in the mirror and thinks, fuck, I'm a slut.

Standing at the window, waiting. Her wine glass already empty for the second time. Her knickers soaked through, have been for hours.

Come on, show yourself, show me everything.

And he does.

There he is. Naked. No slow striptease bullshit, everything on display. His cock hard already. But that's not what makes her pussy give an extra miaow.

He's holding a toy, a big black cylinder thing.

He's going to fuck himself with it, for her to see.

Their eyes meet, she nods to him, a yes.

He doesn't wait, presses the toy against his hard cock and slowly sinks in. His eyes watching her the whole time. Her hand instantly going to pussy.  

He starts to thrust, in and out, deep. Then stops as he looks at her. Waiting, paused, she knows what he wants.

She turns and walks to the chair she had dragged by the window earlier. Sits down, with her legs spread wide, pulling the gusset to the side to show him everything. Opens the drawer. Takes out the dildo, big, thick and heavy to hold. Realistic, veins and everything and holds it for him to see. This?  

He answers by thrusting his hips into the toy. Fucking it deep and hard. Yes is his answer.

She pulls her bra down, big tits free, nipples hard. Guiding the head to her cunt entrance, she soaking, dripping and circles and runs it along her slit. Teasing. Then slides it in, inch by delicious inch.  

Moans, loud, doesn't give a shit who hears. This is for him and her.  

They find a rhythm. Him thrusting into his toy, her fucking herself with the dildo. Every time he drives in she feels it. Every time she buries it deep, she knows he's thinking it's his cock in her. The distance between the windows is nothing, they both feel each other.

She watches him watching her. His eyes half closed, mouth open gasping. One hand on toy the other roaming his body, chest, stomach, grabbing his balls. Her free hand mirrors him, pinching her nipples hard. Moves down to find her clit. Rubs in time with both their thrusting. Not acting now, just fucking. Being fucked by him to the wet sounds of squelching from her soaking cunt.  

Her body tightens, she's losing control as the wave of pleasure starts to build. His pace quickens as she thrusts and bucks, taking the whole dildo deep to keep in time.  

Watching him, fucking himself for her, deep thrusts, his head tilted back, that's what does it.

Her back arches as she comes hard, screaming out. It's brutal as it floods through her like a torrent. Her body jerking, pussy clamping down on the dildo. She keeps fucking herself through it, moaning and draining every bit of pleasure out of it.  

She opens her eyes, still trembling. He's there, head back, shuddering as he shoots his load into the toy, his hips bucking.  

She watches as he empties himself into the toy and pulls out, his cock still twitching, chest heaving. Beautiful fucked up pleasure.

They stare at each other. Sweaty, breathing hard, totally spent and used.

He raises a hand and turns and walks away, disappears into the darkness of his apartment.

She stands on shaky legs and pulls the curtains closed.

She leans against the wall, heart hammering, the dildo still deep within her wet cunt, leaving it there for a minute, feeling him still inside her. Her fucked up lover across the courtyard.

Tomorrow, they will do this again.