Cleos Fantasies Ch 05

**Tanner**

His heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and he stammered excitedly:

"Oh my God, there she is!"

He had stopped believing it, but the dogged wait had been totally worth it: she had just sat down on the bed facing him in her bra and skimpy panties! The shutters covered her face, but the sight of her half-naked body was stunning enough and undoubtedly the reward for his previous persistence.

Adrenaline shot through his veins, and he trembled with excitement. Breathing heavily, almost deaf from the rush of blood in his ears, he watched her reach back, hesitate - he held his breath and widened his eyes even more - only to ultimately not take off the damn bra.

Tanner gasped but kept hoping; his undivided attention was focused on her. And then, just a moment later, she reached back! He held his breath again and watched, fascinated by how she removed the bra, letting it slide carelessly to the floor, then lightly stroking her legs absentmindedly with her hands. He felt more blood gathering in his loins and dared not move even a millimeter. With his eyes fixed on the arousing sight of her firm breasts, he forced himself not to blink.

Then she stood up, turned to the side, and slipped off her panties. With a lump in his throat, he prayed she would turn to face him. And sure enough, he couldn't believe his luck; she turned in his direction. He could briefly see her from knees to breasts; her shaved pubic mound, flat belly, and firm breasts with pink aureoles and hard little nipples. The image burned into his memory, and his heart beat even faster. Only seconds later, she walked away, disappeared from his sight entirely, and then the light was off.

He exhaled loudly, then took deep breaths, in and out. He felt sick with excitement but was also delighted. He smiled and slowly walked to his chair, sat down, looked at the screen, and noted the time. Then he closed his eyes and put a hand in his pants, massaged his penis, and enjoyed the exciting sight again in his mind's eye. After a few hand movements, an orgasm announced itself. But he paused, opened his eyes, and looked at his PC. After a short search, he found the file, played it, saw how the light turned on, and her sitting down, opening her bra, briefly lingering with bare breasts, then standing up and removing her panties.

When she turned to face him, he stopped the playback and zoomed in until the image became too pixelated, and he had to back off the zoom. Not many details were visible, but the image was still extremely arousing for him and the perfect reminder of what he had just experienced. He rubbed his glans with pleasure until he could hold back no longer and, with well-practiced strokes, directed his semen in several large splashes on his belly.

After he had wiped away the sperm, he looked again at the greatly enlarged, somewhat blurred still image. He needed a better camera. But he was still satisfied that this time, thanks to the video, he would be able to relive what he had seen over and over again.

He fell asleep late afterward, and when his wife woke him up unkindly early Sunday morning, as usual, he would have liked to strangle her. But also, as always, he ignored his anger, and when she asked him to go for a Sunday walk, he grabbed his jacket without much grumbling, just as he did almost every weekend.

But he had changed. The last few weeks, he had had energy like never before. The memory of last night was incredibly arousing, and the video to go with it was his greatest treasure.

And he knew he had to hide this powerful emotion, a newfound courage to live, from his wife. There was no way she could learn the real reason.

He couldn't risk anyone finding out about his new hobby. Not so much because he cared about his reputation, let alone his wife, but because he wanted to see more of Cleo; he needed to find out more about her, needed to be closer to her. His obsession had increased mightily last night as if someone had poured oil on the fire.

Finally back home from his walk, he went straight to his office without comment. The still image was still visible on his monitor, and it instantly excited him again. He had thought up all kinds of scenarios last night and also wondered if he might get some better footage. He just had to think positively and hope she would forget to close the shutters more often.

He opened the directory with the recordings and realized, angrily, that he had neglected to press the record button again after watching the video last night. Highly annoyed, he started the recording and resolved to be better in the future. He couldn't risk missing anything again.

**Cleo**

On Sunday morning, Cleo opened her eyes, blinking. The first rays of sunshine were already shining into the room. She liked being woken up by the daylight. Cleo looked down at her feet, peeking cheekily out from under the thin sheet that otherwise covered them. Her gaze continued to the window, and instantly she thought of her neighbor and last night.

A little over a week had passed since, disinhibited by alcohol, she had first shown herself naked to him briefly, but on purpose. She had felt pretty bad afterward at first, unable to believe what she had let herself get carried away with.

After a day or two, however, she had gotten over it enough to start masturbating again to her familiar fantasies. She had decided that from now on, she would only let her imagination play.

So much for the theory.

She had shown herself to him again yesterday. Well, she had also been incredibly aroused. Was it due to the unusual amount of free time that, lately, she was horny all the time?

Still barely awake, she realized the neighbor could easily see the end of the bed, not much more, maybe to the middle. If the shutter had been fully open, he would have seen the whole bed. She fidgeted and put her feet back under the covers, which she pulled up to under her nose.

Could he really not see anything else? For sure, he had been able to see her sleeping if he had looked at all. At this thought, she realized again that she had deliberately shown herself naked to him, although - or instead, because - she knew he was looking. She began to doubt herself again. What kind of normal woman would do such a thing? And then it was this horrible neighbor, not a handsome young man with a celestial body. She sighed.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide the fact that she was already aroused again - and for that very reason. This damned fantasy took more and more hold of her life and had meanwhile completely and possibly irrevocably displaced all earlier fantasies. Even last night, she had masturbated herself to sleep after the action at the window, almost habitually.

Without realizing it, she had not only spread her legs slightly but had placed a hand on her mons veneris. While her fingers tenderly stroked the smoothly shaved bulge, the other hand found a breast. How could she be horny again after last night's violent orgasm? In the past, she hadn't felt like it for days after such a climax. But somehow, everything was different now. She looked down, and her spread legs stood out under the thin blanket. You couldn't see anything from inside her room, let alone from his window. Still, she was embarrassed in the daylight. Even her feet, she did not want to show him.

She wondered if he was standing at the window again. Probably not, she thought, and her hand stopped stroking. But what if he was? As always, she imagined him behind the curtain, mouth slightly open, breathing shallowly, highly aroused. Eerily aroused.

Because of her.

In her imagination, his cock was always only half hard, for whatever reason, but, as always, the arousing image worked today as well. She started to caress the so familiar region around her pubic a little more purposefully. After a very short time, she was already highly aroused again, correspondingly wet, and with a few movements of her fingers through the hot slit, she spread her wetness. She flipped the blanket back to just above the mound and looked down at her breasts as she circled her fingers.

She knew he could see the sheets but nothing of her. At most, he could probably sense the movements under the covers and knew what she was doing. Her nipples were rock hard, and she was playing with herself more roughly now, something she had never done before. Impetuously she pinched her buds, wincing briefly, kneading her breasts and watching herself in fascination.

She shivered a little but didn't want to cover herself up. Instead, she wanted to watch herself - something he had been denied. Something that only she could ever give him. The thought of having everything under control, of being able to dominate and manipulate him as she wanted, turned her on even more.

But she wasn't sure how far up the bed he could see. And although she had briefly shown herself naked to him yesterday, she certainly didn't want to do that again today. The thought that she had dared to do it, that she had come up with the courage not only to undress at the foot of the bed but then to turn herself toward him, excited her immensely.

She had the power to give or to take.

Already she felt that familiar tug again, as it always felt when a climax was approaching. She briefly increased the pressure on the clitoris, just enough to still feel good, and then rubbed more gently. But it was too late to postpone; her pelvis jerked up, her whole body stiffened, and she rolled briefly to the left, then to the right, stretched out again. Everything vibrated, and it took her a moment to relax completely.

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked down. The blanket had slipped dangerously far down. Just a tiny bit more, and she would have given him an unrestricted view between her legs. She shivered. But he certainly hadn't seen anything - except maybe some wild movements. At best, he might have been able to imagine what had happened under the blanket. For a moment, she remained still, contentedly and somewhat exhausted, a smile playing around her beautiful mouth. She sighed and guessed she wasn't all that normal. But then, who the hell wanted to be normal...?

*---*

What followed was a busy week. She had taken over the shift of a sick colleague in addition to her regular shift. Nothing unusual. The following Sunday, she had the day off, and suddenly her conscience had bothered her. Somehow she felt guilty. She couldn't define exactly where the feeling had come from so surprisingly, yet she couldn't quite shake it off either.

When she returned from jogging in the late afternoon, the first thing she did was to let the shutters down completely. In the evening, however, she could already smile about it again. Her mother had probably talked her into these senseless feelings of guilt as a child. She decided to going back to living out the fantasies in her head instead of real life, and the following days passed uneventfully; the shutters remained wholly closed.

On Wednesday morning, she lay in bed briefly after the alarm clock had woken her at half past five and fingered herself a little, as she often did, before getting up. Her thoughts circled the now wholly engaging fantasy with her neighbor. She rubbed herself but couldn't quite decide whether to include the real element from that one weekend or limit herself to the tried and true fantasy. She was unsatisfied and immensely aroused, but she had wasted too much time, so she had to get up, things unfinished.

The feeling of constant, latent arousal didn`t subside throughout the day. But she had far too much to do and hardly any dull moments to get some relief. At one point, as she bent down to retrieve medication from a cabinet, she felt the patient's gaze on her backside, and she strangely enjoyed the feeling of being watched. Of course, she pretended not to notice. And just to be sure, she got another box out of the cabinet, taking her time. When she turned around, the patient smiled without saying a word, and she smiled back kindly. As he left the treatment room, she smirked.

In the evening, she was exhausted. She took a quick shower, enjoying the tingling sensation of the water stream on her clitoris, climaxing very unspectacularly. After a brief application of lotion, she sank into bed exhausted before descending straight into a dreamless sleep.

The rest of the week was again jam-packed, and she had neither time nor any desire.

*---*

Early Saturday afternoon, she could leave the clinic a bit earlier and enjoyed getting home before sunset for once. As usual, Lena was already gone, on her way to a party or staying with friends. She hadn't left a message. For a while now, they had hardly seen each other, and sometimes Cleo felt alone in the big apartment. It was a depressing feeling, something she had never thought of in the last twenty years, not even when her husband had suddenly been gone.

She stood in the kitchen, drinking tea, and looked out the window at her tiny street. That's when she saw him.

Her neighbor. Together with his wife, he was walking past her house.

Involuntarily, she thought of the weekend before last and wondered if he had been looking longingly at her window every evening since then, disappointed that the shutter was down again. She asked herself if he had been watching her on Sunday morning as well. Watching them, she briefly wondered whether they were still having sex. But soon realized, she didn't even want to know. She shook off the thoughts and went into the bathroom, took the laundry out of the dryer, went into the bedroom, and began to fold her underwear and lay it on the bed.

It had started with something like that, a bra on the bed. She turned to the window and mused to herself. After a moment's hesitation, she went to the shutter, turned it all the way up and looked out, and then briefly at the neighbor's window. She walked over to the bed, bent right by the edge, and unobtrusively looked back up, right in the field of vision. Then she went to the middle of the bed, and sure enough, when the shutter was two-thirds down, he could see right up to there.

With some luck, he had even been allowed a glimpse of a strip of her naked belly the Sunday before last. If he had looked, that is.

She lay on the bed next to the laundry, and as expected, she could still see his window. So the bed was indeed precisely in his field of vision, but only from his window. No other window in the neighbor's house was positioned high enough to see anything in her room except the ceiling.

The neighbor was obviously not at home, so she could safely look up at his window as well. The thought of the weekend before last and the view from his window triggered the usual feelings. A hand wandered to her breast and caressed her nipple through the thin fabric of the black tank top. She imagined lying naked on the bed and presenting herself to him like this. The thought was extraordinarily arousing. Of course, he would not know that she knew he was watching her. Her hand wandered lower, over her belly toward her thighs. If he knew what he was missing right now because of his walk with his wife, he would likely be tearing his hair out.

She smirked and sat up. Should she ever let him see her like this? Of course not, she thought, that would be too much. But teasing him a little bit like that, she was allowed to do, and admittedly, it excited her a lot. Anyway, no one would ever know about it. She rolled off the bed and continued folding her underwear.