A Long Week at the Office

After a rough week at the office, Sean could finally put away his blue prints and go home. All week long, while he was supposed to be updating plan designs for clients, his thoughts kept drifting off to a new neighbor and the desires she had unknowingly awoken.

Sean hadn't even met her yet. But he'd caught glimpse of her several times now over the last week. He couldn't find a good moment to introduce himself. She was gorgeous!

Dark, straight hair, cut short. Not a pixie cut. Just short, athletic looking. It worked for her face. As for the rest of her, having only caught her in fleeting glimpses, he guessed her to have a nice body but hadn't yet truly seen her enough to know.

He was so shy around ladies. He need not to be. He was handsome, jade green eyes, firm jaw and soothing smile. And he was in pretty good shape for his age. But he often lacked courage to initiate things. "I must be single for a reason," he'd always be telling himself.

Because of his lack of time and confidence, he hated the dating scene. But his human nature was pressuring him lately. A force was begging to be released. While he really needed to get off, he didn't want to just 'get off.'

As such, he'd been in a stalemate, both physically and philosophically. He didn't want to just go fuck someone. He wanted more. A deeper connection. But he was so horny! He needed physical interaction.

Instead of doing something about it, he poured his mind into his work. As the days became weeks, the pressure building within him kept forcing its way back into his mind. While frustrated, he was fascinated by the power of unnourished desire.

When it reached a point that he couldn't focus, he realized it was time to do something. He needed to at least introduce himself to his new neighbor. At the very least to determine if she shared any interest.

"I know, I'll bring get a welcome basket and introduce myself later." he said about his neighbor. "Now get out of my head and let me focus!" But no one was around to hear him. Everyone with a life left hours ago.

"Shit!"

It was 7:30. Sean clicked off his laptop, left his phone on in the desk drawer, locked it and headed back to home.

"I'm such a loser! Guess I won't be getting a welcome basket. Dammit. Friday night and I'm going home..."

On the subway trip home, his mind danced with thoughts of what to say. He wondered if he should wait a few weeks? Be cool? Give himself time to hit the gym and solidify certain features he'd paid less attention to of late? Like his whole body.

He had noticed the button on the slacks slightly harder to clasp these last few weeks. A sore shoulder had thrown him off his swim routine. His body was paying the price. Compared to most guys his age, Sean looked pretty good. But he also knew it was time to pull it together. As he skipped up the subway steps, two by two, out into the chill night air, he caught his reflection in a dirty window.

"This weekend, I'll get back at it!" he thought. Tomorrow. "Tonight, I need a drink!"

The Vandervelde metro station was only a short walk from his house. His home was very typically white washed with a red tiled roof. The Belgians weren't flashy like the Italians or Spanish. They built homes to keep the rain out. Perfunctory homes. The leafy Brussels neighborhood was how he liked things, quiet and calling for no one's attention.

He came through the front door and set his things down. Relief.

He grabbed a remote and clicked on his favorite music at the moment, Mussorgsky's "Pictures of an Exhibition." Music streamed through his speakers and filled the room. "Promenade," all brass, strings and woods, produced waves of sound that helped relax his tense mind and body.

"Now for that drink" he thought. Just as he reached in the antique liquor cabinet for a bottle of gin, his wrist bumped the top of a bottle with special memories, a Powers Irish whiskey that was given to him by an old friend. He poured a dram of the tawny liquid over a single cube of ice.

The music, along with the sear of the whiskey on his tongue, unlocked a memory long ago closed in his mind. An erotic souvenir of exhibitionism and voyeurism appeared in his thoughts. He was getting turned on.

As the symphony conductor transitioned from the soft strings of "The Old Castle" to the bird like flutes and trumpets of the "Tuileries," Sean stared into his glass as if it were a screen made of fluid, displaying a movie scene from that long ago night.

For the past few months, when his mind would drift off to fantasies, the primal side of his mental argument would begin to win the debate. "Oh forget it, I'll just jerk off," he'd say to himself.

But so often lately, when his mind would go there and the hardness would grow, he'd be interrupted, or couldn't be alone and just hadn't been able to relieve himself. No time, no privacy, no way to properly dispose of the built up passion inside.

Tonight he was finally alone with his thoughts, his music and memories. His rare state of privacy was charming. Subconsciously, his hand snuck beneath the waist band of his pants where it began to lightly tug the loose skin of his cock.

Sean was unaware that his cleaning lady had forgotten to let down the blinds in the front window. A large, rectangular window that allowed anyone passing to have a look inside his living room if the blinds were open.

Like his new neighbor, Sandra, for example. She was returning home early from a girl's happy hour downtown just as Sean settled onto his couch. Since she moved in, this was the first time she'd noticed his blinds weren't down.

Her front door allowed her a view into Sean's living room through the window. As she paused to look into her purse for keys, the clouds opened up and rain began streaming down. "Oh Brussels, how I detest thee!" she murmured.

As she grabbed the keys, she looked up. She noticed Sean on his couch. She wondered about him. Most guys trip all over themselves to say hello to her. This guy hadn't said one word to her since she moved in. He never pulled open his blinds. He never seemed to be home.

But there he was, loud music muted by walls. "Should I knock and introduce myself? Would that seem weird? Should he initiate that?"

"Where are my damn keys?" she said. She began wondering again what was wrong with her. Everyone told her how cute she was, how sharp she dressed. How pretty she was. How she'd be a good catch for any guy.

"Yeah, except there are NO guys in Brussels that aren't either married, full of themselves or mentally older than 13!" She found her keys and was about turn the lock on her door when she did a double take. "What is he up to?" She asked herself.

Inside, "The Market at Limoges" gave the music a rising tempo. Sean had thrown his jacket on the floor, undone his pants and found himself given over to his solo passion. He quickly slid his pants and boxers down his legs and laid down on his couch.

He didn't need porn, or lube or anything. He was so pent up with desire, he just needed a moment and he'd have his release. It had been so long! He had no idea his window put him on full display to the object of his fantasy.

In what he thought was a solo performance, he took his cock in his hand. He began to move his hand in rhythm with the music. With the expertise of a virtuoso, his hand was conducting a personal concerto on his cock. One he had played so many times before.

The abrupt tempo change of "The Catacombs" slowed him. The music was measured and deliberate. He took a sip of his drink. He slowed his stoking.

Outside, Sandra sighed.

She watched as his hand performed mastery over his cock. She was stuck there staring, hoping he couldn't see her. She couldn't leave. She knew she should. But the happy hour drinks and her months of celibacy combined to overcome her logic. The rain fall was soaking her but she didn't even notice. The lifts and falls of his hand had her mesmerized.

His sex grew even more hard and long as he lay back on the couch, his dress shirt unbuttoned but still on. Sean had a nice cock. It was perhaps 6 inches long. But what women had told him was they loved how thick it was. To her, it looked as thick as a high ball cocktail glass. Not too wide where it would hurt a woman. But wide enough that it must feel amazing, she thought.

He loosened his tie. His muscular legs flexing in pleasure from knowing strokes. The definition of his quads at his knees made Sandra want to run her tongue up his legs to put that cock in her mouth.

Firmer it grew in his hand as his mind traipsed back to the night he opened that whiskey. Alternating between gentle squeezes and long, slow strokes, his need-filled cock became slick from the translucent syrup that seeped out of the top.

Sean reminisced on the night he discovered he liked being watched. Before then, he had no idea he was an exhibitionist. Turned out, he loved performing his most private act while a woman was watching or listening. Had he only known Sandra was ogling intently, he'd have blown his load right then and there.

That night, a red haired muse, Shauna, had asked if she could watch how he pleased himself. She said she was always curious about seeing a man masturbating. She poured him a drink of that delicious and devilish Powers whiskey and demanded he show her how he got himself off. While he put on his show, she watched and brought herself to a stunning climax. They fucked for hours that night, reveling in the erotic connection between a voyeur and an exhibitionist.

As the drums, violins and brass of "The Hut on Fowl's Legs" began and Sean heard rain drops hitting the window outside. As the musicians reached their climax, the pace of his deft touch matched the music. His grip tightened around his hardness. He saw himself that night with Shauna, cumming for her as she came with him. A massive storm welled up in his balls. Every ounce of him yearned for release.

Outside, Sandra was dripping wet. From arousal and rain! She was afraid of being seen but unable to remove herself from the show in front of her. "Should I knock on the window" she thought to herself? Instead she found herself moving closer to have a better view. She couldn't believe what she was watching!

What she saw turned the oven within her on high. Her neighbor was lying on his couch wearing only his starched white dress shirt and solid navy blue tie. "Who am I living next door to?" she asked silently.

The site of him stroking himself went quickly from shock to arousal for her. While the sound of the symphony was muted for her, she could clearly see the crescendo inside was coming soon.

Her provocation grew as she watched his hand rising and falling with the rhythm of his hips. His cadence was quickening. She had never watched a man stroke himself but it was easy to see he wasn't going to last much longer.

That was when Sean opened his eyes. Trumpets announced the "Great Gate of Kiev," the final piece of "Pictures." Rain fell more heavily outside. He saw his neighbor for the first time, staring at him from the shadows. Standing there getting drenched and peering in his window.

He had been caught. "How could I be so dumb!" he swore to himself. "Why is that blind open!?"

But being caught further increased his stimulation. Sean's eyes locked onto Sandra's. He bit his lower lip as his climax rose within his body. He was beyond the point where he could stop now. He could feel the hot cum moving through him. His release was close.

He watched her hand slide up her drenched skirt. She began touching herself against her better judgement, asking aloud "What am I doing!?" Her red silk panties were soaked. From the rain? Or her own arousal? Both. She pulled them aside to touch her clit. The slickened skin allowed her fingers to easily glide all over her swelling slit.

The shock of energy that bolted through her when she first put finger to clit surprised her. She had never cum this fast in her life. Yesterday, she didn't know this guy. Today, she's watching him jack off. It was all so unexpected, so erotic. She never knew watching a man could be such a turn on. She was cumming. At his front window. She couldn't believe herself.

Neither could Sean! His pre-cum was flowing more strongly with every note. Cymbals banged and crashed. His hand glided easily up and down his hardness.

Sean stood to the musical crescendo. He stepped awkwardly toward the window, firmly grasping his cock while starring at his audience of one. Sean knew, with the colliding cymbals, the low, thumping timpani drums and the rising volume of the trumpets, strings and woods that the crescendo to Mussorgsky's opus was near. His own end was seconds away.

The window, soaked by now with rain, immediately steamed up around the figure of his left hand. He leaned against the glass to support his barely controllable body. His hips thrusted, his cock pulsed and his hand skillfully tripped the final levers to allow his release.

Outside, her breathing got short and heavy. It painted a misty fog on the pane of glass between them. She placed her right hand on the pane to his left inside. His chest was heaving as he began his climax. She began cumming again.

She watched as his cock let loose one stream after another of sticky, thick, hot cum onto the glass. Sean nearly collapsed from total depletion of energy, fluid, passion, and desire that had built inside him over the last few months.

After he settled a bit, he began to wonder what he had just done. The music had gone silent. He was left with alone with his thoughts. He watched as his neighbor walked a few steps from the window to his front door.

She knocked gently. Returning to reality from fantasy, Sean was beginning to realize his neighbor watching him was not part of his imagination.

She knocked on his door again. This time with more insistence.

Fear, shame, excitement, and a real questions of what to do scrambled his thoughts. He quickly pulled on his trousers and went to the door. He took a deep breath and decided to open it.

"Hi, I'm Sandra. Your new neighbor. I'm terribly wet out here, would you mind if I came in?"