When I first moved to Basingstoke (a large town in the south of England) I rented a flat in a block that had been built in the 1970s. I lived on my own on the third floor (second floor if you use the American or European method of counting). The block was built in a T shape so that two wings came off the central section where I lived. This layout meant that we could all see into each other’s windows, if we were so inclined.
I’d always liked looking into other people’s windows. Not necessarily for erotic reasons. I just liked to see how other people lived. If something sexual happened, that was a bonus.
I had only had one such bonus. That was when I was working a night shift as a computer operator in London a couple of years earlier. A security guard had taken a couple of us up onto the flat roof of the building and pointed to a lighted window opposite. He had obviously done this before while making his rounds. In the window, you could clearly see (even at a distance of about 50 yards) a young woman taking off her clothes and walking naked around the room. She was completely oblivious to anybody watching. She probably didn’t expect anybody to be up on the roof of a nearby building at one o’clock in the morning. I went up to the roof on a couple more night shifts, but she never appeared again. But it did give me an interest in looking into windows, just in case.
I didn’t really know my new neighbours. I occasionally passed the ones on my floor on the stairs. To my left, as I looked back at the two wings, there appeared to be two women, perhaps in their twenties. I was never sure who lived in the flat to the right. I think it was a married couple, but I never saw the man and rarely saw the woman.
One evening, I was standing at the sink doing the washing up. There was a window above the sink which looked out over the communal garden and, to my right, I could see the window of my neighbour’s flat. It was about nine o’clock and beginning to get dark, although I hadn’t yet turned on the kitchen light.
Suddenly, the light came on in my neighbour’s room, immediately attracting my attention. One of the young women in the flat came into the room and stood in front of the window. I could only see her top half. She was wearing a blue sweater. She had long, brown hair. She was a little above average build, but not fat.
She looked straight ahead and suddenly took the hem of her sweater in both hands and pulled it over her head. I immediately stepped back from my window. I did not want to be caught looking, even though I hadn’t been deliberately doing so. I continued to watch from further back, hoping that she wouldn’t see me in the gloom of my kitchen.
Whether she could see me or not, she then unfastened her black bra and let her large breasts fall free. They hung down slightly and had large, brownish nipples. She held them briefly and then removed the rest of her clothes. At least, I think she did. That’s what it looked like from her movements, but I could not see her below the waist. She then walked to one side, out of sight, and the light went off. When I next looked, her curtains were closed.
I confess it was an exciting experience. It was the combination of female beauty coupled with the forbidden, secret observation. My cock was hard in my trousers, and I thought about her when I masturbated in bed later that night.
The next night, I went into the kitchen at the same time, hoping for a repeat performance. But the curtains were already closed.
But the night after that, she was back. I realised you could get a better view from my spare bedroom. I could also close the curtains and peer through a small gap so I could not be seen. At around nine o’clock, as I stood in the darkened room, the light came on in her bedroom. Once again, she stood by the window and removed her sweater. She stood for a while in her bra. Then that was off too and, again, her large breasts were tumbling free. She held them for a little longer this time, before moving off, switching off the light, and closing her curtains.
Once again, she provided my masturbation inspiration later that evening.
I realised, over the next few evenings, that she would appear in her bedroom at about the same time most nights and strip off. I longed to see more, but she always stood close enough to the waist-high window to block any view of her whole body. I wondered if she knew I, or anybody else, was watching. Surely not? But why would she always stand in the window with the light on if she didn’t want to be seen? Why not close the curtains first?
It seemed to me that she wanted to be watched or, at least, wanted to know that someone might be watching. Should I let her know that I was? My thoughts raced. If I told her what I’d seen, would she be delighted, fall into my arms, and make passionate love? Or, more likely, would she think I was a sneaky pervert who had been spying on a woman innocently getting ready for bed?
I decided not to say anything if I met her on the stairs.
This display went on most evenings for about three weeks. Early one evening, we arrived back at the flats at the same time and ascended the stairs together. I nodded “Hello” to her, and she nodded back. But the conversation went no further. I could see now that she had a good figure. She was wearing tight jeans with knee-length boots, and wore a sturdy, waterproof blue jacket. When we got to our floor, I nodded “Goodbye,” and she went into her flat.
Later that evening, she was back by the window. This time, she stood a little further back. She undid her blouse, revealing a lacy white bra. This soon came off, revealing those breasts I had come to know. I could just see the top of her jeans and watched her unbuckle them and pull them off, giving me a glimpse of white knickers. I watched her hook her thumbs under the waistband and take them down. I knew now that she was naked and ached to see more.
Unlike the other evenings when I had watched her, she turned away from the window and walked further into the room. I could now see her down to her knees and had a great view of her very neat, naked bum. “Turn round,” I urged her silently. And she did. She stood showing me her dark pubic patch and beautiful breasts. She seemed to look directly at where I was hiding, and I thought I detected a hint of a smile, but may have imagined it. Then she moved to the light switch, and the show was over.
That night I came copiously over my sheets.
From that evening on, she normally moved into the room so that I (or anyone else) could see her whole body. I could almost set my clock by her. She would strip off and stand there naked for maybe a minute before switching off the light and closing the curtains.
After about three weeks of these displays, I happened to see her on the stairs one morning as we both left for work. We said hello and briefly talked about the rain that was pouring down outside. As we parted I said, without thinking, “Bye then. See you later.”
“I know you will,” she replied.
As she walked off to her car, I was stopped dead in my tracks. Did she know? She must do. Or was she just acknowledging that we lived in the same building and would be bound to bump into each other at some point.
That evening, I was in my usual place. She appeared but did not strip off as usual. Instead, there was no mistaking that she was looking straight at where I was hiding. She smiled. She stretched her arms out as if opening curtains. Did she want me to open mine? I didn’t know what to do. I could be completely misinterpreting her actions. She might not know I was there, and I would be giving myself away.
I decided to open my curtains but to leave the light off. She was now looking straight at me. There must have been just enough ambient light for her to see my outline. She made another gesture. This time, there was no ambiguity. She was miming switching on a light. My game was up. She knew I was watching, and I was now exposed as a pervert.
I thought I might be able to brazen it out and so walked across the room to turn the light on. I sheepishly made my way back to the window, hoping that perhaps she may have gone. But she was still there, looking directly at me.
She reached down to the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She stood in a white, lacy bra. Oh my word, she was stripping for me. Her next gesture was also unmistakable. She pointed directly at me and mimed the sweater off movement. Astonished, I pulled my tee-shirt off and stood in the lighted window, topless.
She unclipped her bra and held her breasts in her hands. When she let go, she gestured for me to move further into my room. This meant that she could now see the rest of my body, that had been blocked from view by the window frame.
She undid and removed her jeans, revealing a small pair of light blue knickers. She pointed at me. It was obvious what she wanted. I undid my jeans and slipped them off. My cock was almost sticking out of the waistband of my pants, I was so excited by this mutual strip show.
She slipped her knickers off and stood naked in front of me. She pointed at me. I pulled my pants down, releasing my very hard cock. I was practically coming with the excitement of the moment.
Slowly, she began to play with her breasts with one hand, while her other crept down to her pubic hair and beyond between her legs. She nodded at me, and I took my throbbing cock in my hand and began to move my hand up and down the shaft.
I couldn’t hold out for long. My knees buckled, and I shot a rope of thick, white come into the air and onto the carpet. I don’t know if she could see the spunk from her vantage point, but she would definitely know I had orgasmed.
She smiled, waved, and then turned out the light. That was all for the night.
I closed my curtains and cleaned up the mess I had made on the carpet. My cock was still hard. I was feeling both excited and embarrassed. I had just stripped naked and masturbated to orgasm in front of a virtual stranger. I didn’t even know her name. How would I face her if we met on the stairs?
I didn’t see her on the stairs, or even in her window, for the next few days. And then, we came home at the same time one evening. She was with a man of about her age. She said hello as if nothing had happened and introduced the man as her boyfriend and said that he’d been abroad for a few weeks but would be staying with her for a few days. She even told me her name: Susan. I told her mine, and we went to our separate flats.
Well, that was that, I supposed, for the exhibitionism. In a way, I was relieved as it had become a bit of an obsession for me. Every evening, I’d stop watching the TV or whatever else I was doing and go and look at her window. I wouldn’t need to do that anymore.
But, that evening, I went to check anyway. And she was there. Only this time, she was not alone. I watched, astonished from behind my curtain, as her boyfriend slowly undressed her in full view of the window. When she was down to her knickers, she pulled his shirt over his head. She unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, revealing a pair of blue briefs. She took these down, too, and his erect cock was revealed. I’d never seen another man hard except in a porn mag, and I confess I was excited to see this. I automatically compared his cock with mine and calculated his to be longer but thinner. Susan pulled her own pants off and then leant forward to suck on his cock. The sight of her bobbing up and down on his pole nearly did for me. My hand was down my trousers, stroking my own hard shaft.
She stopped for a moment, looked directly at where she knew I would be hiding, winked, and then closed the curtains.
That was the last time I saw her. Well, the last time I saw her naked, anyway. I saw her on the stairs a few days later as she was taking boxes to her car. She said she was moving in with her boyfriend in another town, but that she hoped that I’d enjoyed the farewell performance.