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Watching Luke

Posted by: Author: Age: 40 Posted on: 0 comments
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I'll continue this story in a few days.


It started in the autumn of the year that I turned fifteen. My family lived in the farmhouse on the top of the hill. Our nearest neighbours were an old couple whose house was about a hundred yards from ours. That summer, the old man died, and his widow sold the house to a family who had moved from London.

I'd never paid much attention to what went on in the house when the old couple lived there, even though it was easy enough to see inside using my bird-watching binoculars. They never used the bedroom at the back of the house, the side which faced our property.

When the new people moved in, I noticed that the bedroom was occupied by their son, a blonde kid of about thirteen. He was very cute, about four feet eight and slim. He went to the same school as me. I discovered that his name was Luke.

That first memorable September evening, I was watching him at about nine o'clock. Luke didn't bother to close the curtains at night. He didn't know about my binoculars with their 20x magnification.

He came in from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, which he dropped to the floor. He was turned slightly away from me, but it was obvious that he had an erection. I could see the end of his stiff little penis sticking straight out. It was bright pink and about four inches long.

He sat on the bed, in full view. He had a bottle that I recognised as a well-known brand of baby oil, which he rubbed onto his dick and then started pumping away.

Needless to say, I was as hard as a rock myself by this point, and I started rubbing myself slowly, watching him keenly through the binoculars. He kept rubbing for about fifteen minutes, pausing now and then to lubricate himself with a little more oil. Suddenly, his pace increased for a few seconds, his mouth opened wide, and he fell back onto the bed.

I'd been holding back, but the sight of his dry orgasm made me lose control, and I shot my load onto the wall beneath the window, six huge wads of sperm, one after the other, trickling slowly down the wall.

I made a point of watching at the same time on subsequent evenings, and it became obvious that he had a routine on the nights before school days: homework for an hour, then a shower at around nine, followed by a leisurely wank before bed. I looked forward every evening to watching this wonderful boy perform for my pleasure.

A couple of weeks before Christmas, I was watching him one Sunday evening. He was close to orgasm, and so was I. As usual, the pace of his pumping increased, and he flung himself back onto the bed. But this time, he sat up almost immediately with surprise on his face. He looked closely at his penis and the hand that was clasped firmly around it. I saw his raise his hand to the light and rub his fingers, then reach down and scoop something off his leg.

Oh joy! I'd just had the privilege of watching his first ejaculation. He was clearly fascinated and slightly mystified by the liquid that had just shot out of his dick. He reached out and grabbed a pair of red underpants from the floor beside the bed, and wiped himself off.

My orgasm that night was one of the best I've ever experienced on my own.

Then one weekend, something happened which changed my life forever. Luke's mother called at my house and I heard her speaking to my parents. My dad called for me to come downstairs. My heart froze. Someone must have noticed me watching Luke.



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