Chapter 1 - The Window

CHAPTER 1: THE WINDOW

I squeezed my thighs together, trying desperately to relieve the growing ache in my clit. Already, the tiny bud was wet and sensitive, pulsing with heat, and so swollen that the slightest movement caused it to rub against my damp panties.

I wanted desperately to touch myself and end the torture, but denying myself the pleasure would make the end so much sweeter. What were a few missed touches when the bigger prize was before me? No, I'd let the tension build until I was delirious with desire.

Not daring to blink, I stared at the object of my desire and swallowed audibly. He was so devastatingly handsome. He looked like sin and sex all at once. I licked my lips, knowing he'd taste like forbidden desires.

I felt winded, my breaths coming in small pants as I waited to see what Itumeleng would do next. The anticipation would be the death of me; I wouldn't survive it. Thank goodness he decided to have pity on me.

He glided his hand slowly down his chest toward his stomach. The journey to his belt seemed to play out in slow motion as his hand drifted over his chest, lingering over his muscled abs.

I stood metres from the bed, transfixed by that hand as it pulled the leather belt free from the loops of his faded blue jeans. He turned slightly sideways, giving me an unhindered view of the prominent bulge in his jeans.

Not for the first time, I wondered how in the world he was able to cage that marvelous cock within those jeans that fit him like a second skin.

He dropped the belt to the floor with one hand and reached for the button of his jeans with the other, without missing a beat. His movements were sure and eager, as if he couldn't wait to be free of his confining clothes.

So that was how it was going to be — no striptease today. Instead, we'd get straight to the nitty-gritty. That would suit me just fine. I was on board with whatever Itumeleng wanted.

I smiled wickedly and licked my lips — they begged to be kissed and sucked and bit.

Needing a little something to ease the eagerness growing inside me, I bit my bottom lip and sucked it between my front teeth, just short of breaking the delicate skin. In my book, a little pain always enhanced the pleasure.

My mouth watered, and I thought I would start drooling like a ravenous animal at any moment.

I clenched my fists to keep from throwing myself at Itumeleng and demanding he take me now. To hell with the clothes. We'd get to them after I had his cock buried in me to the hilt — buried so deep that the pain blurred into pleasure. The white tank top and cut-off shorts I wore would take no time to discard on the floor.

Though I'd have to take the time to free my hair from its bun, because I wanted Itumeleng's hands buried deep in the roots, pulling until I was sure I'd find loose strands all over the duvet later. I didn't care at that moment if he wanted to pull my hair until I was bald.

No. All I wanted was to feel Itumeleng's male strength consuming me, taking me to the edge before throwing me over the cliff. Fuck the taking-it-slow. Not today. Today was for assuaging the heat building in my entire body and resonating in my aching pussy.

With sure movements, Itumeleng released the button and quickly pulled the zipper down. My lips formed a pout as I pictured myself pulling that same zipper down with my teeth. I knew I could get those pants off him much faster if he'd just give me half a chance to prove it.

Needing desperately to be near him, I moved two steps closer on unsteady legs.

"Take the shirt off, baby. Show me what you're hiding," I whispered, waiting for him to grant my request or deny me.

As if he heard the words spoken on a breath so low they could have been thoughts, Itumeleng turned toward me fully.

He pulled the white button-down shirt from his pants. Each button released caused an electric pulse to vibrate in my clit. By now I was so drenched, my warm juices making my panties wet and uncomfortable.

If Itumeleng didn't hurry up and get to the main attraction, I would lose my mind and start tearing off my clothes. My body felt on fire, like a slow-burning flame licked across my skin.

As soon as Itumeleng shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, I wanted to scoop it up, inhale his scent into my lungs and drown in the intoxicating scent that belonged to him alone.

No man's scent had ever gone to my head as quickly as Itumeleng's. I figured his pheromones smelled like sweets and sex to my senses. Each time we were in the same room, I wanted to lick him like a lollipop.

"Now, the jeans. Take off the jeans."

My eyes zeroed in on the head of his cock peeking over the top button of his pants. He was already hard and ready, his cock reaching toward his belly button. His length was impressive.

I waited impatiently, panting with every breath. My pulse quickened, palms sweating. I felt like a junkie needing a fix. Itumeleng had been out of town since Monday, and I desperately needed my fill of his delicious body. I was starving for him, desperate for the sight of his muscular body and swollen cock.

As a pilot, he was often out of town for short sprints. Sometimes he could be gone for a week or more, but long hauls were not typical for him. When he was gone for more than two or three days, I would start getting restless and moody, worried for his safety and needing to see Itumeleng or hear his voice.

Knowing what would come next still didn't stop the wild beating of my heart, nor did it prevent my mouth from falling open when Itumeleng pulled his pants and boxer briefs down and kicked them free.

He could have been some kind of muse or inspiration for sex toys. He definitely inspired me.

Itumeleng stood tall and proud, unashamed of his body in the midday sunlight shining through the window. He was just under two metres tall, towering over me by a good fifteen centimetres. His hair was dark, cut short on the sides with just enough to run my fingers through on top.

As I stood there staring like a simpleton, he grasped his cock near the base and glided his hand upward toward the head while rotating his wrist. Then, to my delight, he repeated the motion, over and over again, until I became mesmerised by his hand stroking up and down his shaft.

Unable to stop, I moved closer to clutch the window frame, needing the support to stay on my feet.

Soon, I realised that Itumeleng had stopped moving and was standing there just holding his cock in his fist.

Slightly annoyed, I looked up to see why he had stopped, only to realise he was staring at me from across the distance of our windows.

Granted, our bedroom windows separated our homes by the width of two driveways, but I could still see the fire burning deep in his dark eyes. That was not embarrassment I saw at being caught masturbating. No, that was lust. That was pure, unadulterated lust directed at me.

My eyes drifted to his luscious mouth as it opened, revealing his tongue gliding sensuously over his lips.

It wasn't until they turned up in a cocky grin that I realised I was still staring. Meeting Itumeleng's eyes one last time, I gasped when he winked at me. Cocky bastard enjoyed making me squirm.

Somehow I came to my senses and clumsily reached for the blinds, in an attempt to look as though I was simply closing them instead of ogling my delicious neighbour like some peeping Tom.

With clumsy hands and a face that felt like it was flaming, I closed the curtains and walked to the bed to sit down.

What the hell had just happened? Had I really been watching Itumeleng pleasure himself like a damn peeping Tom? Would that make me a peeping tomboy? Oh, shit!

On a groan, I lowered my head into my hands and wondered how I would face my neighbour after being caught watching him masturbate. And what the hell did that wink mean anyway?

There was nothing quite like a late-night dip in the pool. Better yet, there was nothing like a naughty skinny dip in your neighbour's pool while he was out of town.

Itumeleng had been out of town now for a couple of days and was not due back home until tomorrow. He always sent a text when he was going out of town, asking me to take in his post or a package he was expecting.

According to his recent message, he'd be back tomorrow afternoon. Using the spare key he gave me months ago, I'd placed the small package and his post on the kitchen counter and decided that a dip in the pool was called for.

Itumeleng was a great neighbour. He had given me permission to use his pool whenever I wanted. I only used it whenever he was out of town, because I wasn't sure how Itumeleng would feel if he knew I was taking him up on his offer but leaving the costume at home.

As I floated on my back and basked in the silence beneath the stars, I thought back over the year since I'd known Itumeleng. He was the best neighbour a single woman could ask for. He paid the teenage boy down the road to take our bins to the pavement on Mondays and Thursdays. When I'd asked the young boy why he was taking out my bins, he said Itumeleng paid him to do it.

Later, when I brought it up to Itumeleng, he said it was to thank me for always checking his post and packages while he was away. I protested the need to continue paying for the chore, but he'd insisted with that drop-your-panties smile, and I could deny him nothing.

Then, I noticed that he always came over to ask for my car keys when he cut his grass. He explained that he didn't want a stray stone to crack my window or put a scratch on my car. I thought that was rather sweet of him, and told him so.

About a month ago, I found that Itumeleng had remodelled the pool area and put in more lighting. I also now had my choice of several new floats and other pool accessories.

My favourite new addition by far was the outdoor canopy daybed with curtains. The luxurious feel of the cushions had lulled me to sleep on more than one occasion.

Thinking about it now, I wondered if Itumeleng had ever fucked anyone on that daybed. What had that been like?

Itumeleng's house and mine sat side by side. We had both opted to purchase the wooded lots on the other side of our homes. Privacy wasn't an issue at the moment, as there was no other way into Itumeleng's backyard except through the house. I didn't have to worry about uninvited visitors sneaking in, because he kept the gate locked.

As I continued to float around the pool in the silence of the night, I thought back to last week, when Itumeleng caught me watching him masturbate through the window. I had not come face-to-face with him yet, so the coming encounter worried me. To be honest, I was embarrassed at being caught, but I had no regrets about spying on him through his bedroom window.

I figured he must know that if he kept his curtains pulled back like that, eventually I would get an eyeful.

And that was another thing. Did Itumeleng keep those curtains open all the time, knowing I would be able to see him moving around bare-arse naked?

Maybe I should return the favour. I could start by leaving the blinds open when I showered. Then I would walk past the window in my towel. If I knew my sexy neighbour was watching, would I be brazen enough to drop the towel? I could act coy if I caught him watching me, or I could just blow him a kiss and shut the blinds.

Maybe he would consider it an invitation and come over to join me.

I smiled at the thought and brushed it off as nothing more than another fantasy. For the last several months, I'd been on a dry spell. I loved sex as much as the next girl, but I wasn't interested in another hookup with some guy I didn't feel a connection with.

So that left B.O.B. — and while B.O.B. always delivered, unlike some guys I've known, I was looking for an emotional connection with my partner.

The truth was, my fantasies lately had revolved around one man in particular, and everyone and everything else had come up short in comparison. I wanted to have sex with Itumeleng. I wanted to feel his strength moving in me, and I wanted it to happen soon.

The flirtation, fleeting touches and hot looks had wound me up so tight that I was getting myself off after each and every encounter I had with Itumeleng. I'd stocked up on two different-sized batteries and kept my vibrator charged and ready on the bedside table.

The sexual tension was becoming too much to handle. Just dropping Itumeleng's post off, being in his home and smelling his scent had me needing to cool off with a cold shower or, like tonight, taking a dip in his pool.

Then there was the problem with my heart and pride. Taking that final step with Itumeleng would mean taking a chance on the sex leading to nothing more than a few fleeting fucks and then the awkwardness of having to see each other all the time as neighbours. Eventually, my pride would force me to move away.

Even worse, I would have to watch the moving truck pull up next door as Itumeleng moved first. No, sex with Itumeleng would be too risky. I needed to move on. At the very least, I needed to find a substitute. How pathetic was that?

Lost in thought, I didn't hear the back door open and shut. Nor did I see the shadow move across the lawn before sinking into the deck chair.

Sexually illicit fantasies of Itumeleng and I making use of this very pool distracted me once again. Like many times before, I allowed another fantasy to build and intensify until I had no choice but to relieve the pressure building in my pussy alone. B.O.B. was not a swimmer, so I'd have to take care of my own needs tonight.

Lost in my fantasies of Itumeleng, I imagined his palms gripping my hips tightly as he pulled me against him roughly. With one last squeeze of his hand, he would move to my breast. He'd smooth his palm over my nipple before grasping the whole thing in his hand and giving a squeeze to test the weight. Just thinking of his large hands had me cupping my aching breasts while pulling the erect nipples. First starting softly, then building more and more pressure until pleasure and pain mixed, and I cried out.

Already I was so close to coming that when my hand drifted down to touch my pussy, I found it slick even though I was still floating in the pool.

My empty passage clenched as it sought to be filled. At that moment, I needed to come more than I needed air to breathe. Still squeezing and tugging on my nipple, I circled my middle finger around and around my clit, increasing the pressure and the speed with each rotation.

Before long, I was moaning and crying out Itumeleng's name like a mantra. In my fantasy, Itumeleng was feasting on my wet heat like it tasted of honey. He was licking frantically at the little bud and then sucking it into his mouth.

Unable to take another second, the climax hit me like a tsunami. I gasped for breath and allowed my fingers to linger on my clit until I drew out every last ounce of the pulses echoing between my thighs.

The pool's cool water soothed the swollen tissue, but I was far from satisfied. I'd have to go home and use my vibrator to get off a couple more times before the fire I'd built between my legs thinking about Itumeleng would be satisfied. Deciding there was no time like the present, I rolled over to begin the swim back to the side of the pool — only to stop and gasp like a fish out of water when I saw Itumeleng sitting in the chair by the pool. Unfortunately for me, I sucked in water and started choking.

Itumeleng must have thought I was drowning, because he jumped in the pool fully clothed and grabbed hold of me before I could blink.