Watching Cyn (or was it Sin)

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My mornings had now gained another air of predictability, this time with a more satisfying regularity. Oh yes, Trevor was still the same. I would try it on, with all my seductive charm, knowing in advance that he would rebuke my approaches, and Trevor would never let me down. The difference though was that I was no longer getting disappointed. It was Trevor's missed opportunity rather than another morning of unsatisfied desire. I now had my stranger in the shadows to add just a little titillation to my otherwise unexciting life.

I did wonder whether Trevor would say anything. I was coming to bed each evening dressed in different nightwear, each outfit becoming just a little racier than the last. I had to, as there really wasn't time to change the next morning, or more to the point I didn't want anything to get in the way of me and my young voyeur. For all Trevor noticed anything, I might as well have gone to bed in the nude. He seemed unmoved by whatever I chose to wear.

My naughty side clicked into gear. How about I did turn in naked? Trevor would have to notice then, and if he didn't, it would certainly give my voyeur a most interesting view the next morning. My heart pounded at the idea of another man staring at my naked body, but I did have a reputation to look after. I shook my head. No, I couldn't do it, could I?

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, only for it to resurface a few days later. There I sat, dressed in nothing more than a satin cami top and matching knickers, staring out of the window at my youthful audience. I just loved the sleek fabric up against my naked skin, not that it covered too much. My voyeur wasn't just getting a hint of cleavage, the low-cut gave a view of the deep valley between my full mounds. I couldn't resist a little shimmy, feeling the soft flesh wobble free within the loose-fitting top.

It was self-fulfilling. Every encouragement from down below, would send a flutter inside and I would respond with a little more tease and titillation. In turn, he would smile again, pushing me just a little further. Before I knew it, I was running my hands over my silk clad breasts, fingers emphasising their size. I couldn't help noticing how hard my nipples felt as I brushed over the top. Hidden from view, they stood to attention, hard nubs atop my ample breasts. Oh, how I wanted to feel his lips latch down and suck the sensitive nubs one by one into his warm mouth. I gave each a pinch, a tingle of excitement shooting out inside as pain morphed into pleasure.

Then I noticed him, or more to the point I noticed his reaction. The lad was smiling back at my every movement, but as I teased him with glimpses of my breasts—I had taken to pulling the silky fabric down, revealing ample flesh without showing anything indecent—I noticed for the first time that his hand had wandered lower down. Was my voyeur getting just a little excited inside his trousers? Was he trying to hide it from me, or could he just not resist giving it a little stroke?

It was a bit gloomy for sure, but I suspected he was gently rubbing his cock through the fabric of his jeans, and the thought alone got me all excited. I could feel a tingle in my loins, the tingle of desire. It had been so long since I'd had a real cock inside, and already I was dreaming of the same. Without thinking, I moved my hand down between my legs.

In my mind every movement was happening in front of me. Slowly, sensually, I popped open the button on his trousers and eased the zipper down. A thumb looped over both sides, I pulled both trousers and boxers downwards, watching as his manly cock sprang out.

"Yessss," I moaned as, in my imaginary world, I looked at his flagpole, standing to attention in front of me.

"Yessss," I moaned as, in the real world, I slipped my fingers into my knickers and caressed my damp lips.

I was smiling back at the lad, my legs now spread with my sex aching for relief. In my mind it was his cock, not a dainty finger, which forced its way into my hot pussy. It was his cock which rocked back and forth inside. It was his cock which pushed me closer and closer to the—

"Yessss," I screamed, as pleasure flooded my body.

My orgasm had come so quick it had taken me by surprise. The imagery alone, visions of a young stranger ravaging my sex with his virile manhood, had been a catalyst towards my needful relief. Every touch nudged me closer towards climax. The imagery consumed me so much that I never noticed the fires inside until they erupted like a volcano, pure pleasure spurting out in all directions.

I pulled my hand out of my knickers, licked the shiny juices from my fingers and simply sat there, breathing hard. I glanced down at my stranger. He was still there and, for sure, now he was rubbing at his concealed cock.

I blew him a gentle kiss, gave a little wave, and climbed down from the window seat. I would never know if he took himself over the edge or not, but the sheer idea of it turned me on. We may have been voyeuristic strangers, but this young lad was certainly kindling my innermost desires and I was most definitely enjoying them being kindled.

There was only one problem. I needed more. Being watched was exciting, but nowhere near as exhilarating as the real thing. I guessed I would just have to work on Trevor. Maybe that idea of slipping under the sheets with nothing on would do the trick.

There was only one way to find out.

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I did everything I could think of to set the mood. I'd pulled the curtains part way closed, reducing the living room to a late evening darkness. The flicker of candles on the dinner table brough a soft glimmering glow to the room. Next was a little gentle, relaxing, music and then I waited for Trevor to reach home.

I knew better than to rush things. The night would be all about the build-up, a tender kiss as I took his coat and bag, gentle caresses as I served him his favourite dinner, and then a touch of footsie under the table. He didn't say anything, but I was sure he had noticed. I saw the smile on his face as he placed his cutlery down on an empty plate.

"I could get used to this, Cyn," he responded, licking the last remnants of gravy from his lips.

He hadn't called me Cyn for some time. Cynthia was my full name, but in our younger years this had become Cyn, albeit I always imagined a different spelling. I liked the name. In my mind I was his little Sin, to do with as he wished.

"Was that nice for you?"

"Yes, very good. Anything for dessert?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, a wicked twinkle in my eye. "There's plenty for dessert. Now, what do you fancy?"

I ran my foot up and down his trouser leg, teasing with my gentle touch as if to give him ideas. Trevor smiled and I waited for his suggestion to move upstairs. It wasn't quite how he responded, but the night was still young.

We snuggled on the sofa, my head resting on Trevor's chest, one arm behind his back and the other draped across his lap. Trevor ran his fingers through my hair and for a moment I closed my eyes. It was like it used to be. Before long I was running my own fingers along his thighs, matching him stroke for stroke.

It was more attention than I'd had in a long time, but if I was to get what I really wanted I was going to have to lead him to it. My heart was beating fast, this time more through nerves than through passion. I ran my fingers along his inner leg, tracing a line from the knee upwards. I smiled as my fingers ran across his groin. Did he twitch at my touch? Once more I repeated the same, then again, repeatedly until Trevor brought his hand down on mine. I was so expecting him to pull my hand away, but instead he just held it in place, resting over his covered manhood.

There was a sense of excitement inside. Was this to be the day?

"Shall we go upstairs?" I whispered, smiling back at him.

Moments later, I slipped under the duvet. The coolness of the cotton cover against my naked skin sent a shiver through my body, a shiver formed both from the chill itself and my inner excitement. I waited for Trevor to join me, hoping to feel his nakedness next to mine. Okay, so brushed cotton pyjamas were not what I had in mind, but I always thought that as much enjoyment came from unwrapping the present as came from receiving it.

I was only a couple of buttons down his top when Trevor took my hand in his.

"Thank you Cyn. That was a wonderful welcome home. Now, why don't you roll over. We can snuggle up together."

"But, I was thinking..."

My words tailed off. There was no point in protesting. A cuddle to sleep was more than I usually got, so that was a step forward. Reluctantly I rolled over and Trevor wrapped his arm around me. In no time at all, he was snoring lightly in the background.

He never even commented about my nakedness. Well, if Trevor never noticed, I knew somebody who would. My mind was set. Tomorrow, my young voyeur was going to get a real surprise. With that thought, I fell asleep.

The next morning, I didn't even bother with Trevor. There was no hand cupping his morning wood. There were no seductive charms trying to awaken the fires inside. He had his chance the night before and, true to form, he didn't take it. Now, it was somebody else's chance, somebody who I hoped was being truthful in the attention he had been giving me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in nothing but a silky kimono style gown, as I listened to Trevor getting ready for work. Listened? To be honest I was more listening to my conscience fighting with my heart, than listening to my darling husband. Was I about to make a huge mistake? What did it make me? Was it worth the risk? I had almost convinced myself not to go ahead with my little performance when Trevor announced his departure. Yes, that was it, an announcement with about as much emotion as you may find at the local railway station.

'We regret to announce that the 07:00 rat race express is running approximately five minutes late. The express, currently between bedroom and garden gate, is expected on platform one at 07:20.'

Yes, that summed things up. There was no 'missing you already' nor any 'can't wait to be back' and definitely no 'keep that sexy body for my eyes only.' If I was doubting myself, then Trevor had made my mind up for me. Whether he realised how he came across or not, I couldn't be sure. What I knew though, as I heard the front door close, was that I had a little surprise for my watcher in the shadows.

Moments later, I stood in the window, my gaze switching from watching Trevor to searching for the young lad. Predictably, he was there, waiting for me. What was different though was the confused expression on his face. I watched as he took a step forward. What was going through his mind? Over the days, he'd watched me go from comfortable housewife, dressed in a frumpy full nightgown, to sexy MILF fingering myself to an orgasm under the cover of silky cami-knickers. Now though, I'd returned full circle, standing there covered in an oriental style dressing gown.

I smiled back at him, then gave a little wave. My heart was pounding, knowing just what I was about to do. Slowly, one knee at a time, I pulled myself up onto the window seat, kneeling up in front of the glass. I glanced up and down the street to make sure there were no other prying eyes, and then reached down for the bow-tied sash around my waist.

Hesitating slightly—to be honest my hands were shaking through a combination of fear and excitement—I made sure he was watching, and then... then I pulled firmly at the end of the sash. At first there was nothing, then slowly, inch by inch, the silky belt started to move. It was like a slow-motion video, the loops of the bow growing smaller before the whole thing popped open. For a moment I held it there whilst I checked that my audience was still attentive, and then I let go of it.

Oh, how I wished I had a camera, to capture the look on his face as my gown fell open, revealing a full-length view of naked flesh. I couldn't help but glance down myself. A valley of side-boob framed a view down across my toned stomach and beyond. I couldn't see for myself but, somehow, I knew he would have a different view. Staring upwards, I knew the lad would have a good view of my shaven mound, following the line of my pussy lips as they appeared from between my legs, before petering out to bare skin.

I could almost feel the burn of his eyes running up the length of my body, before locking onto my eyes. I smiled back at him and then, with no hesitation this time, slid the gown over my shoulders. The silk kimono floated to the ground, leaving me kneeling there naked in front of the window.

Now to give him a little performance, a little seductive tease of just who he had been admiring for these weeks. I ran a hand across my naked flesh, caressing every inch of my huge mounds, tracking down across my torso, before delving between my legs. It was enough to tease, to get him all excited, but no more. I glanced down at the young lad. Oh yes, it was doing the trick. I could see in his eyes, the way they fixed on my sexy body and, by the position of his hand, that he was especially enjoying the view this morning.

In that moment I knew what I wanted, or more to the point who I wanted. It had been exciting to slowly reveal myself to my young voyeur, to tease him with ever decreasing amounts of coverage, or more so with ever increasing amounts of naked flesh. Now though, I had taken it as far as I could, but still I wanted more.

I wanted to watch him do the same.

I wanted the touch of his body up against mine.

I wanted to feel the relief as he slid his cock into my aching pussy.

The only question was how. Could I simply open the door and beckon him in? What did that make me? Desperate for sure, or had I become a slutty whore. Is that what he thought of me? Was I nothing more than a desperate whore, eager for my next cock?

Then, what if I read him wrong? What if he was nothing more than a voyeur, getting his kicks by watching, but with no intention of going any further. Had he led me on a merry dance? Had he led me anywhere? I had done all this for myself, the only encouragement needed being the idea that somebody was watching.

This was all about me and my needs. My young voyeur, well maybe he was just the means to an end. I stepped away from the window, my mind now awash with feelings. Guilt, excitement, fear, and most of all desire, battled to stake their claim. I pushed them to the back of my mind. Later I could consider my next steps, but for now I had an ache inside which I needed to take care of.

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I had it all worked out. He'd had three weeks of window shopping to make his mind up. If he didn't know now, he never would. I'd had a whole weekend to convince myself it was what I wanted.

Monday morning, I was a bag of nerves. I waited for Trevor to disappear and then, with trepidation, headed downstairs. There I stood, a gown over my night-time attire, with just a wooden door between me and my young voyeur. I was shaking as I reached for the handle.

There would be no turning back. It was time for him to make his mind up on what he wanted. I was offering it on a plate for the young lad and all he had to do was choose. If his decision was to turn and flee, then I would have my answer. If he came inside... well, then he would find out whether he was man or boy.

Slowly, I turned the handle. The cool of the morning air hit me, sending a shiver through my body. I glanced out, nervously looking for my young voyeur, and then it hit me. My heart dropped.

He wasn't there.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, in fact the whole week passed with no sign of the young lad.

I cursed myself. He'd used me. All he wanted was to get me naked, and now I had given him his satisfaction. I could imagine him now, boasting to his mates about this gullible older woman who couldn't stop herself taking her clothes off for him. She should have been old enough to know better. I could even imagine a queue forming outside, as everyone came to see the slutty whore, hoping for their own personal performance.

Oh, what had I done? I'd let my heart rule my mind and been taken in by dreams of rekindling lost loves. What do they say? If something looks too good to be true, it probably is. Now I was learning the same, the hard way.

Three weeks of excitement had ended abruptly, and I'd become a fool. From now on, it was back to my mundane, normal, expected life as a doting housewife. That needed to start today, with a trip to the shops. It was another predictability in my life. Friday was shopping day, just like the weekend was baking time, just like the evenings were... well, that just summed it up. The evenings were nothing anymore.

Bags in hand, I headed off to the shops. During the week I'd nip into the local independent stores, but Friday was the supermarket. It was the weekly shop, so I drove the few minutes to the store. To be honest it was only a fifteen minute walk, but I couldn't carry the bags back that far, not on my own. I parked the car and headed in, a bundle of shopping bags hanging onto the end of the trolley.

Shopping was such a chore. I could rack up the many reasons why the place depressed me. There were the packed aisles, and trolleys which had a mind of their own. Then you could guarantee that the thing you really needed would be out of stock. Oh, and yes, there was always that item you could never find; the one you bought once in a blue moon and they kept moving around the store. Of course, that was it. Those damn shopkeepers kept moving things around. It wasn't anything to do with me becoming forgetful in my later years.

Today was no different. Tapioca was the one. I didn't even like the stuff but, for some reason known only to him, Trevor had suddenly decided he wanted tapioca. There was some excuse about how he hadn't eaten it since his school days. If you asked me, there was a reason why you hadn't eaten it since then, but I was the dutiful wife and if he wanted tapioca, I was going to get him some bloody tapioca. The only problem was that I didn't know where the damn thing was hiding.

"Excuse me," I called out, trying to get the attention of a member of staff

Slowly, he pulled himself away from stacking the lowest shelf, stood up and turned around.

"You!" came my surprised reaction, finding myself staring at the familiar face of a tall lanky youth.

If I was surprised to find him working in this very supermarket, he had suddenly become petrified to find me confronting him. Maybe, it was to be expected. The naughty voyeur had suddenly got his comeuppance, just like when your mother caught you reading that top shelf mag. He didn't know where to look, and just stood there gawping at me.

"You do remember me, don't you... Archie?"

The one thing about this supermarket is that everyone wore a name badge. So now, assuming it was his name, my young voyeur had an identity.

"Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what, Archie?"

"To look at you, Miss."

"You can drop the Miss bit. I'm not your teacher and haven't been a Miss for many years. I'm not upset about you watching me."

"You're not?"

"Well, I gave you something to watch, didn't I? Did you enjoy what you saw? Looking at you, I could be old enough to be your mum. Am I right?"

I'd obviously hit a nerve as his cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"Yes," he responded, his voice taking on a nervous edge.

"How old are you, Archie?"

"Nineteen, well, nearly twenty."

"And is this how you get your kicks... watching older ladies take their clothes off... and then... then... then running away when they'd done it for you? Is that your thing, Archie?"