He could see her. No curtains on her windows, which is what first caught his eye. The room, boldly lit, hid nothing from his wildly expensive binoculars. She paced the room, hugging herself. Yet she’d pause, now and again, sliding a hand over one full tit, stopping to caress her nipples, rubbing at her beautifully round butt.
His cock, despite the workout, roused.
Oh, that ass. How deliciously tight her rosebud was. Trying to keep him out, only exciting him further. How wonderfully she’d moved under him. He’d felt the quiver of her cunt as she came, then came again. An exhibitionist, to be sure, but one who had hidden needs. He had known, all along. She had whimpered into the mattress, the slick sheen of sweat adding scent to the layer of intensity. She’d fought, he’d conquered. His cock leapt again, the sleeping beast waking to semi-hardness as the memories of her flooded him. He had enough self control to not reach down and stroke himself, preferring to let the need grow.
Until his next visit.