Neighbourhood Watch - Sex Stories

Neighbourhood Watch

The Voyeur…. At 2.12pm precisely her car purrs onto her driveway its tyres crunching upon the white gravel. The door swings open to reveal a pair of black leather stilettes perched on the end of shapely nylon enveloped legs. The driver eases herself from the car before reaching back inside to retrieve her handbag and laptop. Her rounded ass points skyward as she stoops, her short navy skirt clinging to its contours. She rights herself, smoothing down her clothing as she pushes the car door shut which a swish of her hip. She has a figure to die for, the perfect hourglass, and with her hair pulled back in a neat bun she looks every inch the sophisticated professional, the no-nonsense career woman working hard for a living. She rummages in her handbag for her house keys and, finding them, heads for her front door to let herself in. I reposition my scope focussing it onto her kitchen. I’ve just completed the adjustments when she appears through the doorway. She unbuttons her jacket and tosses it onto the counter. Her shoes are kicked into a corner and her hair unpinned allowing it to tumble down her back in a cascade of golden waves. She has beautiful hair, deep red and naturally wavy. When it catches the sunlight it appears to burst into flame, the rich auburn tones reflecting the sunlight with startling vibrancy. She gives her mane a shake. I love it when she does that. It’s one of her endearing little habits I find so arousing. She’ll make herself a sandwich now, that’s her ...

... routine. My Juliette’s a predictable creature, regimented. Lunch will take exactly three minutes to prepare and five to devour. The timing never deviates. She eats at her breakfast bar facing out onto her garden – facing me . I see her clearly, every detail; the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, every twitch of the muscles in her beautiful face. My viewing platform is my house, my spare bedroom to be precise. My semi-detached property overlooks the rear of hers and with no high fences or trees between our gardens I can see straight into her kitchen…and her bedroom. I watch her every day. I used to peep through a crack in my curtains, catching glimpses of her as she moved around. These days I use a telescope, its lens carefully concealed amongst an assortment of toys and ornaments I’ve placed along my windowsill. It’s well disguised, I’ve checked from my garden, and the viewing quality is phenomenal. Juliette wipes her mouth, her long, delicate finger removing a smear of mayonnaise from her lips. I feel the first stirrings in my loins as I watch her suck the creamy sauce from the tip of her finger. I tingle at the unconscious sultriness of her actions, the sheer feminine sexiness. God how I wish that was spunk, my spunk, deposited upon her lips. Juliette gets to her feet and dusts down her blouse, her hand grazing a nipple as it brushes past. I see it harden, the outline visible beneath her tight garments, triggering a longing desire inside me. I ready myself to move ...