There are some morally dubious elements in this story. It is meant to be a pure fantasy and not an endorsement of such behavior in real life. This is meant to be sexy, not instructive. All characters are eighteen or older.
For the purposes of this story, my name is Kate. I am a young woman with a certain sexual inclination, which is that of voyeurism. I enjoy watching other women in their most private, intimate moments, and while to many that may seem perverse or absurd, it is the foundation of my sexual identity. Of course, I am not a criminal or a pervert, but I suppose I will allow the reader to judge my moral character. This document is meant to be edifying and provide a look at the inner elements of my psyche.
My first foray into voyeurism began the summer after my senior year of high school, two days after my eighteenth birthday. In high school, I was a quiet girl with a small group of friends, and very much unexposed to the world of sex and dating. Of course, like every girl my age, I had grand aspirations for my college years - romance, love and sex all awaited the wallflower virgin girl walking home on a hot summer evening. I had just spent the day hanging out at the mall with my friends, and taken the bus back to my typical suburban neighborhood.
As I walked up the street I'd grown up on, I noticed something odd. The fence that had always stood between our house and the neighbor's was gone. The posts had been ripped out cleanly, implying this was no accident. Curious, I stopped before walking into my house and instead padded up the side lawn that faced the neighbor's house. The lawn was marked by two large cypress trees, between which the fence had run, and within one of which was my childhood treehouse. The house itself was one story, smaller than our family's, but I'd always thought it was prettier. My suspicions were confirmed as I took a look at the beautiful arched windows cut into the side of the house, glinting red in the setting sun.
"Kate!" a voice cried out, and I turned around to spot my neighbor walking towards me. "How are you doing? Your mom told me you just turned eighteen. That's a big one." She carried a trowel in her hands, and wore gardening gloves.
"Hi Ms. Flores," I said, waving at her as she walked up to me. "Yeah, just a couple days ago. My friends and I went bowling." Ms. Flores was a short Latin woman with dark, curly hair that fell to her shoulders, and cheerful brown eyes. She'd been divorced for a few years and her kids were already in college. Despite being in her early fifties, she looked pretty good for her age. Today she wore a white tank top that displayed her significant cleavage and her curvaceous hips filled out her blue jean capris nicely. A sheen of sweat clung to her face and slicked down her chest. My eyes lingered on her bosom a bit longer than they should have, and I quickly looked away.
"Sorry for lingering, er, I mean standing around here, I wasn't snooping." Why would I say that? She wouldn't have any reason to think that. "I was just wondering what happened to the fence."
"Oh, that, don't worry about it!" Ms. Flores said, waving a hand carelessly. "The fence posts had some rot in the bottom so your parents and I discussed it and we're getting the whole thing replaced. Splitting the cost." She smiled cheerily at me. "I've spent the whole day out here doing some gardening." Her eyes flicked over to the horizon, as the sun dripped away and the sky darkened into twilight. "But it looks like I'm done for the day. I think I'll go hop in the shower and get dinner ready." As she mentioned showering, my eyes flicked back down to her sweaty cleavage and I felt my cheeks flush a deep red as an unbidden image of her soaping up those heaving breasts popped into my mind.
I was clearly going mad. I'd always thought Ms. Flores was pretty, for a neighborhood mom, but I'd never had a sexy thought about her. I didn't have sexy thoughts or dreams very often. In fact, I had never even had an orgasm. I'd read some articles online about masturbating, but I didn't know how to acquire a sex toy without my parents finding out, and I'd never been able to get anything to work with my fingers.
Anyway... I shook my head. This was not something I needed to think about right now. "Er, right, I should probably get home too. Mom will have dinner ready soon." My eyes flicked over to the large windows on the side of the house. With the sunlight fading, I was surprised to see that they were the windows to her bedroom, complete with a large queen bed and study desk. "I love your windows, Ms. Flores. I'd never really seen them from the outside before."
Ms. Flores clapped her hands together, delighted. "
Gracias,
Kate. I love them. That's probably the only nice thing my ex did for me. He was the one who picked the design. I love looking out at the cypresses from inside." She laughed. "When he suggested the design, though, I was always worried about privacy. Mostly because the guy who lived in the house before you guys was a bit of a weirdo."
I felt a little blush rise in my cheeks. I hoped she hadn't noticed. "Oh? Is that why you had the tall fence?"
"Yes, Brian had that installed, but honestly, it was being overly cautious." She waved her hand dismissively. "The trees are tall and there aren't any windows on that side of your house." Ms. Flores glanced down at her watch. "Oh, I need to shower and start dinner. Talk to you later, Kate." She turned around and bent over to grab her gardening toolbox. As she did, her black thong peeked out from her tight jean capris, displaying a perfect whale tail.
For the first time in my life, I felt my cunt throb.
As quick as it had been shown, it retreated, and she turned around to flash me a smile and a wave before heading back inside her house.
"See you later, Ms. Flores." I turned around and walked down the side of the house, intending to go inside. Dinner would be ready soon, and my mom would start to worry about why I wasn't back. And yet, despite what my brain told me, my cunt wouldn't rest. Beneath my jean skirt, inside my white cotton panties, it was begging me to satisfy my curiosity, to see if I could get a look at what lay beneath those pesky layers wrapped around Ms. Flores's body.
There were no windows on this side of our house, it was true. But there was a view from the treehouse.
It was an impulse decision. I made sure I heard Ms. Flores close her side door and then I ran back to the larger of the two cypresses. Grabbing the rope ladder, I scampered up like a girl possessed and crawled into the small treehouse. I was no longer able to stand up inside, and crawled forward on all fours, over the blankets and pillows I had left there, to press my face into the glass window my father and I had installed together, over ten years ago.
It was fully dark now, and the suburbs were quiet but for the chirping of crickets. The heat had dulled to a pleasant warmth as a breeze drifted in. The treehouse's old wooden joints creaked, but this was as structurally as sound a building as could be. I had inherited my father's love and skill for home development, and I regularly ensured the treehouse was up to snuff on my own.
The bedroom windows were dark, and I issued a grunt of half disappointment, half relief. It felt like such a violation to spy on Ms. Flores, who was a really nice woman. But I was eighteen, and I had never felt such a vicious hormonal urge before. I was utterly at its mercy. Even now, my pussy felt restless, constricted, within the trappings of my underwear.
The bedroom light flicked on. My body grew tense, rapt with attention. From my vantage point, I could see everything inside her bedroom.
