Across The Street 3

I used to long for the guy across the street, Noah, to notice me. I was shy, but on warm spring days I would read out on my front lawn hoping he'd come over and talk. Turns out he was too nervous to make a move as well.

I'd watch him from my kitchen window as he would emerge from his house each morning to go to work and then get off the transit at 5:15 and walk home. It got to the point that my days would revolve around his schedule.

On Saturdays he would mow his lawn or tend to his gardens or clean the gutters. He would be dressed in his Saturday clothes; rugged and relaxed. I was especially attracted to Noah when he dressed like this. It seemed so much more natural for him than his weekday wear of a suit and tie.

On Sundays Noah would chill out the most. I'd watch him emerge around noon in only a bathrobe, hair messy and face proud with full weekend stubble. He would sit on his veranda and sip away on what I presumed to be coffee and watch the world go by. This was the time that I had the chance to get his attention.

After years of pining, I decided to get serious about Noah and started spending each week thinking up a plan for Sunday.

My first attempt I was full of butterflies. I visited my sister out of town from Friday - Sunday with my return timed for his porch sitting. I drove around the neighborhood for 10 minutes before I got the nerve up to enter my driveway in front of him, get out of the car, retrieve my bag from its place tucked in the back of the trunk (so that I had to stretch to reach it), walk to my front door, bend over at the waist to pick up the newspaper and go inside. I could not tell if he had watched my act or not. By the time I peeked out from behind the curtain in my living room, he was focused on a robin sitting in his magnolia tree.

I knew in order to gauge his response next time I would have to be able to watch him during my act. So, the next week I bought a video camera and placed it on its tripod in my bedroom window. I spent the week getting used to it. Focusing on the chair on his porch, recording the neighborhood and then reviewing the tape, I even videotaped my act so that I could practice and perfect it before Sunday.

When noon rolled around on Sunday, I was much more confident and prepared than for my first attempt. I lined the camera up on Noah and pressed record. Then, dressed in a tight tank top and a pair of grubby old overalls, I went outside to the garage and got the ladder. I leaned it against the garage roof and climbed its height. I reached high above me and removed the old light bulb from the coach light and placed it in my left pocket. Then I took a fresh bulb from my right pocket and screwed it slowly into the socket, making sure to lean just right to show off my bare stomach where my shirt had pulled up. Then I climbed down the ladder and put it away, and after closing the garage, went inside to view the tape.

Before pressing the stop button, I watched Noah for a while, zooming in on his eyes and lips and hands resting on his lap. I slipped the tape into the VCR in my bedroom and watched with great interest. At first Noah was simply enjoying the afternoon; sipping on his hot drink, watching some kids walk by on the sidewalk with their red wagon. Then my ladder caught his eye and he watched my activities. His eyes climbed the ladder with me and followed my hand to the light bulb. They slipped down my arm to my shoulders and on to my waist, then rested there for some time. They gained interest as I pocketed the bulb and took the new one out. At this time he put down his mug as I stretched back up to the socket and then he leaned forward as I screwed. His eyes fell on my exposed skin as though they longed to touch it and I knew that I should continue my Sunday escapades.

I watched the rest of the video from the comfort of my bed where I could rewind the tape again and again until I was able to tease and pleasure myself into a frenzied, heavenly orgasm. How I longed for the day that Noah would join me in the act. But, I knew building up the desire would make it a whole lot more fun.

Each time I would feel more and more self assured. The third Sunday was bold for me. Thank god the weatherman was right, it was a hot day, so I dressed in a modest but pin-up style bikini and watered my hedges in my front yard. The hose was damp and firm filled with pressure and I held it with knowledgeable hands (I had spend the previous week practicing with a broom handle in my livingroom). My barefeet danced me around the yard to reach each plant and, when lined up with Noah while watering the frontmost hedge, I reached out my arm for a neighborly wave, making sure to elongate my scarcely clothed body. Noah shyly nodded back before quickly looking away, pretending that he had not been eyeing me. I turned my back, making sure not to look his way again so that he could return his gaze to me. Before returning the hose to its home, I stood beneath it with my neck swanlike, taking a long and thirsty drink from its stream.

I was eager to rush to my bed to view the new tape of Noah, but I made sure to slowly walk the length of the yard to the door across the wet grass for maximum exposure.

Once inside I sprinted up the stairs stood behind the camera. I eyed my sheer curtains beyond the tripod and on impulse ran my hand across them, caressing the fabric. Feeling immensely frisky, I started to undress in the hopes that Noah would still be watching my house. I untied the halter strap around my neck and let it fall. I slowly pulled the now wet top down, exposing my tender and ready breasts. They bounced in their freedom and I cupped them before adding a hearty tweak to each nipple. I let out a giggle and they jiggled happily. Then I slid my hand down first over my ribs and on to my smooth and taught tummy finally to its resting place in the front of my bikini bottoms where it poised a moment before rubbing the newly shaved area. It was soft like velvet. I found my little button and circled it gently. It was supple, yet dry so I delved below for some moisture and as I suspected I was ripe with berry juice. I rolled my fingers in it and brought some up to my view. It strung between my fingers with abundance.

Needing Noah's eyes fully on my, I pulled upon the curtains and returned my fingers to my clit and smothered it with erratic motions. I cocked my head back in ecstasy. After a long time, I turned my back to the window and removed the last of my bikini, bending over as it fell to the ground to reveal my swelling honey pot to Noah. Then, I took the tape from the camera and moved to the TV. I rewound it and sat on the edge of the bed, awaiting the show that would push me over the edge. I watched as Noah watched me in my yard. His eyes were full of longing and intensity. I watched them sink as I left the yard and him lean deep into his chair. Some time went by before he scanned my house for activity, then he spotted my bedroom and his face lit up. His looked around to make sure no one was in view, and then his hands moved to his groin. He rubbed through his robe and then exposed a throbbing, glorious work of art. I hadn't expected such a show and I nearly couldn't resist coming. But I wanted to watch him come first. I withdrew from my fondling and watched in wonder.

He rubbed the tip with his thumb as he watched my display in the window. Then he seized the shaft and I could see his body start to tremor. His face changed as if a light bulb light above him and he recovered himself and went inside. I was disappointed in this, but he returned with a notepad. He wrote something and held it up: "Want to come over?"

A grin spread across my face and I hurriedly slipped on a dress. I practically slid down the stairs and out the door. I rushed across the street and found him on his chair waiting for me. I was pleasantly relieved to find a tent still remained in his robe. After a nervous moment I stepped between his legs, leaned down and kissed his bristly face. His lips were softer than I'd imagined and I melted as his hands moved to grip my waist. I slid down and opened his robe, now hidden by the veranda's trim. I licked the length of his member and enveloped it with an unrivaled hunger.

As I moved ravenously up and down I could sense him trying to hide his desires from the neighbors with subtle grunts and moans and clenched hands, so I lay myself out on wooden planks of the porch away from any prying eyes and pulled him down with me. He nudged my legs open and kissed my clit lovingly before placing himself at my opening. He held it there, subtle and tempting and looked me deep in the eyes before satisfying my craving with a welcome, forceful plunge. I let out a deafening cry of passion as he rhythmically filled me with his pulsing member. Neither of us could sustain the intensity and so we escalated to eruption without delay.

We lay together on the floor; our nether regions and hearts throbbing in unison for some time before the cool breeze of the evening tickled our skin.

I spent the rest of the night becoming familiarized with his house. By morning, I was no stranger to his dining table, kitchen counter, sofa, deep freezer lid, stairs, workbench, bed or shower.

We put both our houses on the market within the week and bought a nice little place in the country where we could make all the noise we wanted without having to worry about prying neighbors.