Tracy's Mom

It began the afternoon I overheard my Mom gossiping on the phone about the people who had leased the cottage next door. "She's a divorcee with a teen-age daughter," my Mother hissed with the sort of disapproval she usually reserved for atheists and liberal politicians. Naturally, when I saw a station wagon arrive a few days later, I raced to offer my help. Tracy, the teenage daughter, was sullen and withdrawn and made it clear she had no interest in me. Not so for Tracy's Mom, an attractive woman in her late 30s with a distinctively sexy vibe. It crossed my mind that with her skinny jeans, shoulder-length hair and slim figure, she looked more like a teenager than her daughter. Tracy refused my help, but Laura Wiggens, as she introduced herself, seemed genuinely relieved when I offered to carry the suitcases and cardboard boxes from the back of her car. Tracy had vanished before I finished bringing in what appeared to be cartons of specialized cooking utensils. "You must be an amazing chef," I said, making idle conversation as I hoisted the last box onto the kitchen counter. Laura wore a tight-fitting, sleeveless top and I couldn't help but appreciate the curve of her braless breasts. "Can I help you put any of this away?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from her tits and looking at her face. What I found was that Laura's own gaze was lingering on my torso as she did a little visual exploration of her own. "Oh, thanks, Jason. I can handle all that," she said, smiling at me with one eye brow raised in a way that implied she appreciated what she just saw. "But there's one favor I would like to ask," she added with a conspiratorial nod toward Tracy's room. "I guess you can tell Tracy isn't pleased to be here with me this Summer. I was wondering if there's anything going on for kids her age that she might be able to get involved in?" As she spoke, Laura stepped closer to me and casually placed her fingertips on my arm. I could make out the scent of her perfume and for the first time noticed how the tip of her tongue darted across her sensuously full red lips when she spoke. The only thing I could suggest was a truly lame Church Youth Picnic that Tracy would instantly detest, but I at least offered to take her on Sunday and introduce her around. Laura thanked me profusely and accompanied me to the door, holding my arm and planting a firm kiss on my cheek. I left feeling as if we'd been friends forever. Perhaps it was my over-active hormones, but there was something downright erotic about Laura Wiggens--especially the way she touched me with what felt like a lover's caress. In any event, I had plenty of time to fantasize about her, because I didn't catch sight of Laura or Tracy again for several days. When I did, it wasn't the way I'd been expecting. I had converted our second-story attic to a workout room. Usually, I exercised in the mornings, when it was coolest. But sometimes if I was antsy or just plain bored, I went upstairs at night to lift weights for an hour or two. Which is what I was doing when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in the upstairs window of the Wiggens's cottage. My first thought was that Tracy was spying on me from an empty upstairs bedroom. I tried looking over without being obvious, but it was too dark see anything. Then I remembered that the crawl space at the end of the attic had a vent. Sure enough, as I peered through the louvers, I saw the outline of a figure positioned a few feet back from the bedroom window and gazing intently toward my workout room. When my eyes grew more accustomed to the low light, I realized that this wasn't at all what I was expecting. Instead of Tracy, it was Tracy's Mom who had been watching me from the darkness. I felt sexual energy surge down my spine, instantly engorging my cock. Thanks to an unusually honest relationship with my previous girlfriend, I well aware that women are no strangers to powerful sexual urges. Could Tracy's Mom be secretly masturbating as she watched me work out? I couldn't see clearly enough to tell for sure, but I somehow didn't doubt it for a second. Someone else might have freaked out. My reaction was to wonder how I could get Laura to reveal herself without frightening her away. I could always just walk back into the room and gesture at my now hard cock and mouth something like, "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." But that seemed a bit crude. Instead, I returned to my workout as if nothing had happened, even though my heart was pounding with excitement. To conceal the fact that my gym shorts were fully tented, I did five reps of ten chin-ups facing away from the window. The exertion was enough to soak my shirt with sweat and deflate my erection to about half mast. I nonchalantly slipped out of the shirt, and stretched out to do bench presses. Once again, out of the corner of my eye I caught a flash of movement in the window. I launched into a new workout routine and between my excitement and the humid night air, my legs and torso were soon dripping in sweat while my cock remained stiff without being completely rigid. It was, I decided, time to up the ante. Standing up and turning my profile to the window, I hooked my thumbs in the waist of my gym shorts and gradually lowered them to the ground. My cotton briefs weren't exactly revealing, but they left no doubt of my aroused state. I ran my palms across my pecs and over my stomach and abs, not in an especially sexually provocative way, but just gently collecting the sweat. Then I picked up a towel and turning toward the window, using it to pat down my entire body. For the first time, I actually looked directly at Laura's window. The moment of truth was at hand. I hung the towel around my neck and with trembling fingers, slid my briefs down in a slow strip tease. I took maybe fifteen seconds to reveal the white band of skin across my abs, and another fifteen for the first tufts of dark pubic hair to come fully into view. In a single gesture, I pushed the the briefs past my cock and balls and on down my legs until I was naked. Another flickering movement told me Laura was, indeed, still watching. I let my finger glide up and down my cock shaft, causing it to quiver and stiffen in response. Then, I walked to the back of room, where there was a small desk with a goose-neck lamp. I rotated the lamp so that it faced directly at the window and switched it on. As I turned around, I reached out for the wall switch, and flicked off the overhead lights. I was now visible to Laura mainly as more of a silhouette. I walked back and stood directly before my window. Only the glass panes and a narrow strip of lawn separated us. Laura had move directly in front of her window as well, so close I could see her eyes watching intently as her fingers slowly unbuttoned the front of her white blouse. Almost instinctively, I wrapped my thumb and forefinger around my cock shaft and began slowly stroking. The shirt fell from Laura's shoulders revealing small, milky-white breasts with large dark areola and nipples. Laura must have already discarded her pants and panties, because as soon as the shirt was gone I could see the hairless V just above her pussy. Slowly, one hand encircled her breast, while the other rode the pathway down her stomach and vanished into the gap between her legs. At first, our self-pleasuring was tentative, almost shy. But gradually we gathered speed and picked up on each other's rhythm. Before long, our hands and arms were working almost in unison. Watching Laura masturbate for me sent fresh shivers coursing along my spine. Her nipples were taut and pointed slightly upward atop breasts that looked as firm as those of a girl my own age. Her legs were parted for balance with her hips and pussy tilted foreword and in full view just above the window sill. I can only guess how I must have looked to Laura. I knew my untanned cock and groin would be pale in contrast to my abs and legs and dark bush of pubic hair. Like her, I assumed my eyelids were heavy with arousal as I focused unblinkingly on her face, her tits and the place between her legs where she was now feverishly finger fucking herself. For a brief moment we paused and smiled at each other, savoring the powerful sexual obsession that enthralled us. Soon, I was jerking again, rocking my hips and pounding the full length of my cock at maximum speed. I soon felt that tell-tale tingle of excitement that is prelude to my orgasms and tried to fight it back, giving Laura time to peak with me. I needed not have worried. An instant later, Laura's back arched, her head rolled, and her entire body froze in a portrait of feminine ecstasy. I waited until her shoulders relaxed and her eyes fluttered open, then stepped forward until my cock almost touched the glass. Her gaze was steadily fixed on my cock as I stroked myself. Within seconds it was too much for me to stand. My balls tightened in the final rush to climax and my heart felt as if it were about to leap from my chest. Laura smiled knowingly, as if she understood every confused sensation that was coursing through my body. Then she formed her lips into a suggestive little "O," sucked on her finger in a gesture that hurled me over the edge. I arched my back and pumped my cock until my fingers become nothing but a furious blur. My first explosion was so strong I had to grab the window sash to keep from collapsing to my knees. Even when there was nothing left to shoot, my cock kept pumping in my hand. Four or five solid white spurts had hit the window glass and were running back down the pane. Laura's expression broke into a wide smile. She licked her fingers one at a time, then pressed them to the window. I did the same, but when I glanced up to catch Laura's expression, she was gone. It was my first encounter with this kind of voyeurism, but not my last. About four years later while staying in a Paris hotel that overlooked a women's dorm, I shared similar moment with a nubile young music student--except this time we had French doors and balconies. I'll make that memory my next Solo Touch posting. In any event, Laura and I repeated our mutual performance three of four more times, growing increasing comfortable being naked and vulnerable in front of each other. One night while waiting for her to appear in the window, a car pulled into the driveway. A moment later Tracy's shadowy figure jumped into the passenger side as Laura shouted from the porch, "Be home by midnight!" As the car backed out, Tracy responded with a muffled, "Yeah, sure." Ten minutes later, I knocked softly on Laura's back door. When she saw who it was, her face broke into radiant smile, she threw her arms around my waist, and literally dragged me to her bedroom. The rules don't allow me to describe what we did after that, but I can tell you we were still doing it when Tracy returned a little before dawn.