My Neighbor 'S Voyeur
Using my binoculars, I peeked through the window and across the street at Mrs. Walson, my best friend's mom and one of, if not THE, hottest MILF on the block. She was cleaning house dressed in extremely high cut cut-off denim, and a pound jack shirt. Now when I say high cut, I am sure enough her pubic hair would have shown had she not regularly shaved that field, and while her shirt remained unlaced, showing sizable cleavage, she had it pulled up and tied just below the 38C temptations bulging from her chest, in unforesightful, her usual cleaning attire.
As she leaned forward sweeping or mopping the flooring, I enjoyed a down blouse opinion of those gorgeous mounds when she was facing my direction, or, when she faced away, the bottom of the inning quarter of her firm, full ass impudence being parted by the crinkle of her cut-offs, a peeper dream come up true.
‘ Irish bull ’, I whispered when, just as Mrs. Walson was leaning forward to foot something up, Jason Smith, a friend of mine who lived up the street, casually strolled by the Walson's house, obviously enjoying the scene I was being denied. By the metre I again had a clear view, she had already stood up and was returning a ‘ hi'wave in response to Jason's. This happened often, and not just with Jason, as most, if not all, of the boys, not having the vantage point in time I had, had no other pick but to walk by hoping for a peep. I suppose I couldn't blame them, it was a show any teenager could enjoy.
observation Mrs Walson gather together her cleaning provision, I knew the show was ending, but continued to watch out as long as possible. I followed her across the animation room until she disappeared from sight before I noticed, because of the broad Angle view through the field glasses, her bedchamber curtains were not tightly drawn together. I adjusted the sight of the binoculars bringing her chamber window into confining view and waited patiently.
As I waited, I felt my nub drubbing in my chest, felt my hands starting to shake, felt saliva assembly in my mouth until I almost drooled, and then she entered.
As she entered, she was looking down, fiddling with the knot that had held her shirt closed. I watched as she finally managed to open up the outer eyelet of the knot before raising her hands and, her fingertips sliding down her breastbone, pushed afford the remaining loop allowing the hem of the shirt to drop open.
I felt as if I had been transported to a surreal universe of discourse where everything happened in slow motion. Her hands continued down until they could strike the shirt by the parted hem, pull upward and back, allowing the shirt to lessen back from her berm and, as her pap came into view, I gasped. Despite their size and fullness, they did not drip or sag when freed, their asymmetrical areola enhancing the arrant nipples, still hard from rubbing against the shirt, and were thrusting forward as her arms and head stretch back dropping her shirt away. As she finished stretching, she pulled her brain and limb forward. She Look down and, I could evidence by the movement of her weapon system, began undoing her cut-offs.
The size of it and position of her window limited my view to only being able-bodied to see her torso down to her belly. Knowing what she was doing, and hoping for a different sentiment, I stood on my toes try to look over the windowsill in a down way with no luck, so I stood on my bed only to take in the Sami lack of resultant. She leaned forward ( to remove the cut-offs from her ankle ? ) and I watched as her fizzle hung freely with the slightest of motion before she rose again and started walking away from my focussing, bringing more of her organic structure into view. I jumped back to the floor and raised the binoculars to my eyes just in fourth dimension to watch her ass cheeks sway with each step she took before she entered the master bathroom and turned toward the sink.
She reached for a facecloth and deform forward slightly to wet it under the tap causing her ass to push back ( where imagined my face was waiting ) before wringing out the facecloth. She stood erect again and thin back her forefront and began to slowly wipe her neck with the facecloth as if it was lover caressing her with kisses. She leaned forward again to rewet and rinse off the cloth and, as her ass jutted out, my spit involuntarily started to extend my lips. After the facecloth was wrung out, she held it her rightfulness hired hand and raises her go out arm so she could wipe the sweat I so wanted to thrash from under her left tit. She placed the facecloth in her early hand and washed away the stew from under her flop tit. She put the facecloth in the cesspool before clasping her hired man together. She stretched them upward as far as she could progress to and leaned to the left, then to the rightfulness, obviously checking for any sag to her bust which, I could have told her, there wasn't.
She reach down to wet and wring the facecloth again. She turned to face away from my direction, raising her lead leg to lie it on the toilet across from the sink. She leaned forward slightly, almost daring me to run up behind her and swallow the offered natural endowment, and, using her right hand, began to lap between her branch. The cloth in her hired man wiped along the sass of her crease, back and Forth it travelled as it slowly parted the back talk and entered. The wiping gesture soon sped up and more of the cloth disappeared. Her consistence bent forward, her left arm holding on to the side of the tub for support. As she bent-grass, her ass cheeks parted inviting my tongue to caress the knit muscle, when suddenly, her head threw back, her articulatio genus pulled together and buckled slightly and the ‘ washing'of her genitalia returned to a dim, steady pace.
Her orgasm seemed so intense I thought I could share it from where I was standing and I envied her husband's access to these treasure, their fullness, their feeling, their taste, and imagined that I shared that access, and Sir Thomas More. I saw myself nibbling her mamilla and sucking on each, licking at their firmness as they reached total erection, enjoying their sense impression between my lips. I felt the palms my script cupping the firmness of her tits as my finger began to stroke and pinch her nipples. Feel my back talk gently kissing their way down her belly and over, then under, her groin. I could sense my lips parting slowly allowing my tongue to exit my mouth to search and savor her honey-sweet cavity. I imagined the sounds of her panting sighs of anticipation as her hired man would pull my principal deeper into her as her succus washed over my chin. I felt perspiration forming on my forehead as the phone of my own panting breath quickening. I felt the joy mounting in my jetty as, without my knowledge, one of my hands had left its grasp of the binoculars, slid itself into my blue jean and began to expertly jerk off my genitalia to near orgasm only to be denied by my mother's voice coming from directly behind me asking,"Harriett, what are you doing ? ”