I opened my bedroom window, letting the cool air of the Parisian night flow in to the room. Before turning away, I paused to gaze out over the portions of the capital that weren't concealed behind the apartment blocks opposite me. However partial, the eighth floor gifted me views of the city I'd had a love affair with ever since moving here ten years ago with an ex boyfriend. Although my love for him diminished soon after the move, my love of Paris never did. I looked down at the narrow cobbled street below me, watching the bustle of party goers; groups of well dressed playboys and glamorous IT girls. Paris was as it has always been on a Saturday night. Illuminated, alive and sexy.
I sat back at my dressing table, putting away my manicure paraphernalia and assessing my now dry nails. Scarlet red and glossy. Having red nails always made me feel empowered somehow. Looking up at my reflection in the mirror, I pulled the pins from my up-do, letting my brunette locks tumble down against my shoulders; bare, save for the thin straps of my black lace slip. As I began to brush my hair through, I contemplated removing my make-up, still immaculate despite a day of errands. As always it was my signature look; a subtle beige eye shadow, a sharp jet-black liquid eye-line, and Russian red lipstick. Femme Fatale, I liked to think. Like many women in Paris, I took great pride in my appearance.
Hearing the clipping of heels and intoxicated laughter of young women from the street below made me smile, remembering when I used to be one of them. At 30, it wasn't all that long ago, yet a lot had happened since then. I was a now a successful career girl and a young divorcee. Life was good, but comparatively more stifling than times gone by; when I was a socialite, sauntering through the city in pursuit of excitement every weekend.
As I reached for my make-up remover, a sharp gust of wind blew into the room, startling me and chilling me through my negligee. I promptly got up off my stool and went to the window to close it, but as I did something caught my eye. In the window of the apartment opposite, stood a silhouette. In the two years I'd had my apartment, I hadn't seen much life through that window before assuming it was a rarely used room or uninhabited altogether. However, the silhouette was definitely that of a man. Whilst I could gauge his muscular physique, the dim lighting and his close proximity to the window made it hard to make out any more of his features. My room on the other hand was reasonably well lit, with the curtains wide open. It suddenly dawned on me that this stranger may have been watching me for quite some time. My mind raced through my activities that evening, from the moment I got home, to changing into my negligee for bed. When I realised the stranger might have seen me naked, a surge of excitement instinctively shot through me. Then intense embarrassment. I stepped back from the large window and promptly reached for the curtains to draw them. As I raised my arms towards the velvet drapes, the lace of my slip grazed against my nipples, erect from the cold wind that had startled me moments before. A shiver ran through me, the arousal that had been simmering away inside of me all day was now catching up. I stopped dead in my tracks.
As if possessed, I backed away from the window, leaving the curtains open. Looking away from the silhouetted figure, I innocently sat at the foot of my bed, before scooting up onto it and lying down. I stared up at the ceiling. My heart began to race, wondering what an earth I was doing. Why did the prospect of having a potential voyeur turn me on all of a sudden? As a sexually liberated woman with a healthy sex drive, I was certainly no prude. However, being seen naked by anyone else other than a lover was new and untapped territory for me. Let alone a mystery voyeur, an element that made it seem all the more delicious. I lay still for a few more moments, trying to make sense of my thoughts, and gradual arousal.
A heat between my legs began to ignite as I imagined who this man might be. The gorgeously rugged man that made a perverted remark as I walked past the building site this afternoon? The refined businessman who helped carry my shopping bags to the taxi? Or maybe it was the attractive young jogger that smiled at me as I left my apartment in the morning. The stranger could be anyone and that's what excited me.
I raised my head slightly, to see if the stranger was still there. He was, and I knew it anyway. I could feel his eyes on me. I felt my arousal building, squeezing my thighs together trying to suppress what I wanted to do. I wanted to give this peeping Tom a show. I lay there for several minutes, battling my urges. Half of me wanted to close the curtains and masturbate away from his prying eyes, retaining my dignity. The other half had the overwhelming desire to strip naked and display myself for this mystery pervert; letting his eyes wonder all over my body as I feverishly masturbated myself towards orgasmic bliss. I wanted to be reckless and free like the girls on the cobbled streets again. I knew my arousal would ultimately win out.
Sitting up slightly, I raised my legs up and slowly spread them in plain view of the window. I hoped he didn't realise that I knew he was watching; it seemed all the more titillating and voyeuristic to play ignorant and let him think he was just a dirty, perverted man. With my thighs spread, I lowered my hands and grasped at the hem of my lace slip, before slowly pulling it up my waist, revealing my glistening pussy to him. My eyes darted quickly towards his window and then back between my thighs. He was still there, watching. I hesitantly slid a manicured index finger along my slit, tentatively watching as I coated it in my juices, before raising it up to my red lips and tasting myself. Exposing my body to this perverted stranger in such a way was almost too erotic to bear. I wanted him to see it all.
Sliding the straps down my shoulders, I pulled my lace slip down, leaving the fabric bunched around my waist. With my breasts revealed I began to massage the soft perky mounds, groping myself indulgently. My nipples were hard, sensitive and yearning for attention. I began to tweak and pull on each one in turn, as my other hand slid back down between my legs, where I began to feverishly finger my aching pussy. I began to moan, softly at first, but letting the pleasure show on my face, hoping he could see the extent of my arousal from his window.
As my juices began to flow even more so, I smeared a little on each nipple, before resuming my pinching, pulling and squeezing as I humped my hand and gifted my hard little clit with much needed attention. By now I was breathing heavily, moaning out loud, fully immersed in my sex. Abandoning my breasts, I slid two fingers into my wanting cunt, and began to fuck myself as I continued to wetly rub at my little nub. All the while knowing this stranger's eyes were on me as I luxuriated in the most private of acts. As I glanced back up to him, it was obvious he was simply more than a spectator.
Although I couldn't see his cock, his arm was moving rhythmically, in time with my finger fucking. He was masturbating over me, and it made my pussy throb even more so. Knowing that my fingers wouldn't quite cut it from now on, I opened my bedside drawer and fumbled around for my favourite toy.
As I retrieved the realistic silicone penis, I brought it between my legs and seductively ran the head of it against my vaginal lips, coating it in my moisture. Sliding it up and down the crevice of my pussy until it was primed and slick for fucking. Then, I positioned the head at my opening. My thighs quivering with anticipation, before I gently eased it inside myself. I could feel each of the ridges and veins of the fake penis as my tight cunt grasped its length, as I pushed it, inch by inch, inside me. I groaned like a wanton whore as it sunk deeper, rubbing my clit as the last inch slid inside, revelling in both the sensation of being filled, and this new realm of sexual deviancy I had entered, being watched by a mystery stranger.
I began to resume the previous rhythm I had built up with my fingers, sliding the dildo in and out of my slick vagina, faster and faster until I was fucking myself with abandon. Dropping my Miss-Ignorant act I took my eyes from my sopping wet pussy and looked directly at the stranger's silhouette. Now I wanted him to know I knew he was watching. I wanted him to jerk off over me. I wanted him. His arm continued to pump in time with my fucking. I ground my pussy against the dildo as it slid in and out of me, my pace quickening, almost leaving me breathless. My face etched with uncontained pleasure, intensity and hunger, mouthing fuck me in his direction. Whether he could make it out or not didn't matter, the sheer freedom I felt from expressing my sexuality was enough.
I began to fantasize over him, who I imagined him to be; a combination of all the attractive men I'd encountered that day. As I felt my climax approach my eyes rolled back and the world around me faded away into fantasy. The stranger was on top of me, our sweat-slick bodies melting together as we fucked closer and closer towards the edge of orgasm. I could feel the heat and the weight of his body pressed down against mine. His chest rubbing against my nipples. His stubble grazing against my neck. His pubic bone grinding against my clit. 'Fuck me' I mouthed, over and over, barely able to produce the words which were stifled through my moans. His cock, fucking me at a torrid pace as his heavy balls wetly slapped against my pussy-juice soaked ass, taking me to the brink and then pushing me over it with full force. My pussy contracted hard around his shaft as my orgasm took over, my head flying back as I screamed with uncontained ecstasy, pleasure washing through my body like a tsunami. My entire body writhed and shuddered as wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss ravaged me.
Breathless, my fantasy subsided and I gradually floated back down to earth. The remnants of my powerful orgasm leaving my entire body quaking and quivering. Gently removing the dildo from my sensitive pussy, I lay back against my pillow. As my eyes regained focus I looked towards the stranger's window, his silhouette no longer there. I sighed in content and vowed never to draw my curtains again.