The Waves
By Christof Bour
(MF, Voy, Fsolo, toys, oral)

Alex didn't know why he chose that particular night to approach her window. Maybe it was the full moon. Or maybe it was the glass of whiskey that was in him. Probably he was just feeling more lonely than usual and wanted to see the girl up close.

He had walked by her house a hundred times before. He liked to take walks after dark, when no one was out, when there was less chance of a neighbor stopping him to chat. He was not good at chit chat. He was shy and never knew what to say. He would stand there awkwardly trying to pull away an inch at a time until the other person would get the hint and say, "Well, see ya later."

He also liked to walk at night because her light was almost always on. Her house was a small ranch with some shrubs running along the outside, but they were not so tall he couldn't see in her window. Often he would see her in the front room, seated at a desk constructed from a long wooden door laid across two filing cabinets. She would sit staring at a computer, trendy black-rimmed glasses on her nose, occasionally typing furiously, then waiting and reading. Sometimes she wore her day clothes, but on some nights she wore a robe. Alex always wondered who she was writing to. She sat facing the window, so he couldn't see the computer screen. In his fantasy she was having a sexual relationship with someone living thousands of miles away, sending and receiving explicit messages about what they would like to do to one another. Some nights he would stand in the road and watch for several minutes, hoping to see her stand up and move around, but she never did, and he would finally move on.

But tonight, for whatever reason, he decided he needed to get a closer look. It was late, just past midnight, and the other homes were all dark. The girl, as usual, sat at her desk in front of her computer. Tonight she was in a thin, pale blue robe.

He looked up and down the road to make sure no one was around. Occasionally someone would take their dog out for a late night walk, but it was not likely at this hour. He went to the far corner of her small yard and slowly approached the window from the side. He stepped onto the dirt at the edge of the house and squeezed in between the shrubs. He stood with his back up against the clapboards and carefully peeked inside.

She was so close now, just fifteen or so feet away. If she turned her head just a few degrees she might be able to see him, but she kept her focus on the computer screen. Her hair was light brown, and slightly damp from a recent shower. Her face was narrow and pale, with full lips and a small, straight nose. Her eyes were an intense blue. From here he could glimpse her crossed legs under the desk top. The fabric of the robe fell to one side, revealing her soft thighs.

He breathed deeply and watched as she typed and read, typed and read.


Justine had seen the man before, standing out in the road late at night while she worked on the computer. Once in a while, she saw him in the neighborhood during the day, mowing his lawn or driving toward town. He was tall, thin, with a thick mop of dark hair that was turning slightly gray at the temples. She'd heard he was a widower, a loner, a nice enough guy but not one to socialize with his neighbors.

It didn't bother her that he sometimes stood out in the road like that, looking into her house. Other women might have felt threatened, violated even, but she was flattered, and hoped it might lead to something more meaningful. She was very lonely at night, jumping from one inane chat site to another, looking for some kind of connection. She could easily find someone to talk to at a local bar, but she didn't drink and hated that whole scene. The men tended to be drunken idiots and clumsy lovers. So on most nights she took a long bath, drank some wine, and then sat here waiting as much for her neighbor to stop in the road as for some scintillating on-line conversation.

And tonight-tonight he had made a bold move, she now saw. There, in the window, she glimpsed his eye. She pretended not to notice, but her heart was beating rapidly, and she felt her face turn pink. She uncrossed her legs, feeling a slight tingle down below. He had definitely crossed a line, but she was not afraid.


When she uncrossed her legs, he caught a glimpse of pink flesh and hair, then she reached down and covered herself with the robe. He felt his cock stiffen. She picked up a glass of white wine and took a long sip before returning to typing. Something was happening to her, he could tell. Maybe she had received an exciting message. Her face had definitely gone a little flush. He moved his hand down to his crotch and rubbed himself through his jeans.

After a few moments, the girl looked up from her monitor and right at the window. He froze. He knew that if he budged, she would detect the movement. But she didn't register any surprise or shock. He breathed a sigh of relief. For now he hoped that the light from the room prevented her from seeing his face out here in the dark. She appeared to be thinking. Maybe she was trying to come up with some titillating detail as a response to the message she'd just received.

She took another sip of wine and then, still gazing toward the window, moved her hand down between her legs. Alex thought his cock would burst through his jeans. He unbuckled them, then unzipped. His erection poked through the hole in his boxers. He grabbed the tip and squeezed. A moan escaped his lips. He held his breath, worried that she heard him in the quiet night.


She was wet now, and though she could only see part of his face, she had a good idea of what he was doing out there. She turned her seat a little more toward the window and opened her legs wider, pulling the fabric of the robe to the side. She ran a finger over her clit, feeling the little knob as it throbbed with blood. With another finger she rubbed her pussy lips until the juice built up and dribbled down the soft skin of her thigh. She sighed and shuddered slightly, imagining his cock in his hand.


Her head was tilted back a little now, her lips open, the tip of her tongue running along her teeth. She opened the upper portion of her robe, revealing her small but firm breasts. They were porcelain white. She ran her free hand across them until her small, light brown nipples became hard.

He had his cock cupped firmly in his hand now. He felt a little reckless, and badly wanted her to see it. He didn't want to be anonymous like this, a voyeur. It would be much more exciting to be seen as he could see her. But he was afraid. If he stepped fully into the window she might get frightened. She might scream and even call the police.

She was moving her hand more quickly between her legs now, one finger thrust deep into her pussy, the other rubbing her clit. From here he could see the wetness on her thighs in the light. Most exciting, though, were her staring eyes, aimed directly at him as if she could see him out here, as if she was doing this just for him.


From the one eye she could see out in the dark, she could tell he was in a state of excitement. She imagined his cock in his hands, red from rubbing, the head purple and hard.

She removed the robe entirely, pulling it off her shoulder and letting it fall to the floor. She felt totally free and in control.

In his excitement, the man moved slightly into the light of the window and she caught a glimpse of his cock, his hand pumping it steadily, then he moved back into the dark.


Did she see that? He wondered. He hid his face around the corner and breathed deeply, waiting. Maybe he should go. He could go home and finish himself off and fall asleep. This was probably a huge mistake. She might be on the phone right now to the police. But he heard nothing but the steady sound of her breathing, which had grown deep and labored enough that it could be heard through the closed window.

He peeked again around the corner. She had moved the chair out from behind the desk now, several feet closer to the window, and sat in it with her legs spread wide. In her hand was a large pink dildo. She rubbed the head against her clit. Her brown pubic hair, he could see now in the light of the lamp, was neatly shaved into a wide mohawk. Her whole body, so pale before, was now flushed from head to toe. With a deep moan she inserted the head of the dildo into her pussy. It slid in easily. When she pulled it out the rubber glistened with her juices. As she put it back in she stared directly at Alex and smiled.

She could see him! She was doing this for him!


Justine moved the dildo slowly in and out of her pussy, waiting for him to move into the light. When he finally did, his pants were down below his knees, his cock in his hand. His face showed bashfulness, which she thought was cute. She grinned at him, and he smiled back.

After a moment she removed the dripping wet dildo and set it down on the table. She stood and went to the window. The man's eyes grew wide, with terror or excitement, she couldn't tell. Maybe both. She unlocked the window and opened it up all the way. He started to say something, but she put her fingers to her lips and shushed.

He was standing square in the window, his cock in the middle of the opening. She reached down and took it in her hands. She felt his whole body shudder. She knelt before him and put his cock into her mouth. She liked how he moaned and put his hand on the top of her head. She ran her tongue over the head and down the shaft to his balls. He tasted like sweat, musky and salty. He took her hair in his fingers and squeezed. She put his cock back in her mouth and felt it hard against the roof of her mouth as she moved her lips up and down. As she built up some momentum he began to move her head rhythmically with his hand, pulling lightly at her hair. From somewhere outside, off in the woods, came the high, lonesome cry of a fox.


He could feel the explosion building up deep inside him, like a volcano gathering up lava far below the earth. But he didn't want to come yet. He pulled her head away from him. She looked up, confused.

"Turn around," he said.

She stood up and turned. Still standing in the dirt outside, he pushed her lower back until she bent over, her round ass filling the window. He lowered his face to the pink rosebud that protruded between her thighs. At first, he lightly fluttered his tongue against the nub of her clit. She groaned loudly. Then he licked harder, rubbing his tongue up and down her lips, from her clit down to her hole. His face was now soaked with her pussy juice. He inserted a finger between her thick lips and moved it into her vagina. He felt her legs shake as he sucked her clit into his mouth while pushing his finger in and out of her.

"Oh my God," she moaned, leaning back into him, wanting more.


She ground her ass into his face, feeling the orgasm approach from miles away, inch by steady inch. She rubbed at her tits with both hands, the nipples hard as peanuts between her fingers. It was as though her whole body were on pins and needles, almost painful but not quite, every pore tingling.

She felt herself getting close, but, sensing this, he stopped. She went to stand up, to invite him inside, but he put his hand firmly on her back, keeping her bent over. Then she felt the hot tip of his cock at the pulsing entrance to her pussy. She wanted desperately for him to thrust it in hard, to pound at her until she came, but he didn't. He moved it in a centimetre at a time, torturing her, holding her ass in his hand so that she was unable to lean back into him.

"Please," she heard herself whispering. "Please…"

But he ignored her, and slowly, slowly inserted himself. It felt like it was taking hours, as if his cock were a mile long, her pussy two miles deep. But then something happened. As his thick shaft moved deeper, she felt a shiver gather in her toes and move quickly up her legs to her clit. From there it spread up her spine to her breasts, her arms and hands, and to her face. It was not an orgasm, it was something else. By the time he was fully inside her, the coal-hot tip of his cock tapping at her cervix, she was almost outside of her own body, and at the same time completely inside it. For a moment she thought she might be dying, and waited to float up to the ceiling. But she didn't go anywhere. She was right here, and he was now moving his cock in and out of her, slowly, the friction sending aftershocks from her clit to her brain and back again.


"Fuck me," she ordered him.

He increased the intensity of his thrusts incrementally, feeling as in control as he had ever felt in his life, sensing her every need just from the way she felt. Looking down, he watched as her honey-lipped pussy swallowed his cock. He could feel his swinging balls bang against the back of her thighs.

"Fuck me," she repeated, louder now.

There was no more stopping. He could sense it rising like sap inside her.

"Here I come," she hissed. "Oh my God…"


Once, when she was a little girl, Justine went to the ocean with her family. A storm was building off shore, and the waves were high. Ignoring her parents' warning, she wandered into the water on her own and was lifted up by a wave, then set down again. Thrilled, she went deeper into the water, feeling the undertow pull at her feet. Then, all of a sudden, she found herself pulled under, tossed like a leaf, her body twisting and turning below the surface, her head where her feet had been, then up again. After what seemed like hours she found herself on her back in the shallow surf, the outgoing wave trying to pull her back in. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened her.

That's how it felt now, as the man rammed his cock into her, over and over, hard and deep, her whole body tumbling inside the waves, her vision blurred, and buried somewhere in the pleasure a profound feeling that she was alive.


Alex felt her whole body quaking as if in a seizure, noises he had never heard before coming from her mouth, the inside of her pussy pulsing and grabbing at him. He continued pounding at her, his own explosion just moments away.

She felt it, too. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, over and over. She reached up between her thighs and grabbed his balls. His cock seemed to expand inside her, she had never felt so full and stretched.

He sensed it coming the way you see a wave rolling toward shore, building from a wide lump into something more formed, a long ridge rising, rising, rolling up onto itself, getting bigger and bigger, like one of those waves the surfers ride, twenty feet high, thirty, fifty, and then it begins to slowly turn over on itself, the whitecap shining in the sun, and then as it keeps moving it also appears to hang there, waiting for gravity, until the crest finally falls, pulling the rest of the wave down with it, and there is a great crash of foam and spray on the shore.


And he kept coming, coming like someone who had built up a lifetime of jiz. Justine could feel it hot and thick inside her, filling her up. She ground her ass into him, sucking up every last drop with her pussy until he finally shuddered one last time and stopped.

They remained in this position for a moment; her bent at the waist, him standing at the window, his cock still inside her. They gasped at the air, their lungs thirsty. His hands were on her ass, gently squeezing. When the feeling had returned to her legs, she pulled slowly off of him.

It took a moment for her to straighten up. She first had to take her knees in her hands and breathe some more. She felt his warm jiz roll down her thighs. Only now did she realize she had her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She could have sworn she'd been wide-eyed the whole time, watching a fireworks show.

When her breathing returned to normal, she managed to stand up. The room looked different to her. The light was brighter, the walls closer.

She wondered what to do now. Should she invite him inside? Did he want to sleep with her? Should they plan to meet again tomorrow? What was his name?

She turned around. The window was empty. Confused, she looked around the room. Maybe he had stepped in while she was recovering. But there was no one there. She went to the window and looked out. He was not on the lawn. He was not even on the street. He was gone.

She stood there for a while, waiting. She heard the fox wailing in the woods, a long, plaintive cry. A cool breeze blew in from outside. She shivered. She shut the window. She picked up her robe and put it back on. The jiz was cascading down her legs now, still warm and thick. She reached down and touched some with her finger. She smelled it, tasted it.

She reached for the light and switched it off. In the dark, she looked back to the window. The night was black and impenetrable. She felt a small aftershock, a slight tremor in her pussy. She smiled and went to bed, knowing that he would be back.

© Copyright 2006 Christof Bour

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