Norma Egan: Between auntie_s thighs

Mark walked silently into the woman's yard and got very close to her bedroom window, knowing she couldn't see him while the lights were on. Hell, you could practically press your nose against the glass and they still wouldn't notice you. The ones who left their curtains open somehow never expected to be watched.

The window was large, slightly open, so that Mark could hear the woman humming to herself as she sat at her dressing table brushing her long red hair. She was maybe thirty, very pretty, and stacked. Mark judged that she had tits almost as big as his Aunt Karen's.

She was wearing an almost sheer beige negligee, and as she worked the brush through her luxuriant waist-length coppery hair, her large breasts rose and fell heavily. Through the thin material of her gown Mark could see the brown dots of her nipples.

Mark waited patiently, enjoying the show, knowing there was more to come. His experience taught him that his was a good victim. He noted the framed photo on her dressing table of a man in uniform – a husband in the service, stationed far away. Away, because no man in his right mind would sit watching TV when he had a woman like this in the bedroom.

The woman was alone, lonely, and certainly horny.

She set down the brush after a while and looked at herself in the mirror, no doubt wondering if her husband would still find her attractive when he came home on leave. She slid her hands under her heavy jugs and hoisted them, then let them drop and bounce. They were firm and pointed, and she smiled slightly.

That wasn't enough, though. As Mark knew from experience, she would have to inspect herself all over.

The redhead rose and untied the belt of her gown. She opened the filmy garment and let it slide off her creamy white shoulders, let it waft delicately to the floor. Underneath she was wearing only a skimpy pair of black-lace bikini panties.

Mark caught his breath for a moment, admiring her large pointed tits. Size he judged, milky white, not a blemish on her. The nipples were large and brown and cone-shaped, not his favorite kind, but he wasn't complaining. She had gorgeous big knockers.

Again she examined her tits in the minor, running her hands over them, making them quiver and bounce. She frowned critically. Her breasts sagged a little from their weight; maybe she thought she was getting old. Mark wanted to assure her that she was fine, just fine…

She turned round and round before the mirror, watching her own figure, tall and slim-waisted and long-legged. In Mark's opinion she didn't have a damned thing to worry about, but she didn't seem satisfied. She patted her belly, touched her toes, and did a few knee bends, to make sure her body was still supple. Then she slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and began pulling them down.

Mark stepped closer, breathing very softly. He felt the first prickle of interest in his balls and cock. He hoped he was going to get a good show.

The red-haired woman inched her panties down very slowly, watching herself in the mirror. She tried a few facial expressions and settled on a sexy little grin. Mark understood; she was practicing for when her husband came home.

Thrusting her pelvis forward wantonly, swaying her hips, she inched her panties downward provocatively, teasingly. The first springy pussy hairs came into view a few inches below her navel. Mark nodded approvingly – the hairs were coppery, the same color as her head. He disliked fakery.

More and more of her bright red muff appeared, a pouting puff of clean springy curls. Mark licked his lips. This was his very favorite kind of snatch, and he'd seen all kinds in the course of his peeping. He'd seen vast bushes, dainty triangles, scanty lines, but his favorite was the little round puff of fur like this woman had.

At last she got her panties down over the firm rounds of her butt, then quickly tugged them down her legs and stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She flaunted herself for her fantasy husband, poking her crotch forward, grinning, sticking out her tongue.

Mark felt his cock go hard. If she could put on a show of invitation like that, she must really be something in bed.

Suddenly, though, she seemed to sag, her face losing its animation, her hip action grinding to a halt.

"Oh, hell," she said dismally.

She picked up the photo from her dressing table and looked longingly at her handsome husband. Then she sighed loudly and went over to the bed and lay down.

This was always a crucial moment for Mark. If she turned off the light, the show was over, his fun spoiled. He held his breath, waiting, hoping…

But she left the light on. It was a small bedside lamp, not very bright, but good enough for Mark's trained eye. The redhead lay on her back, her beautiful copper hair spread out over the pillows, and in the gentle light of the bedroom she began to caress herself.

Mark felt his cock aching with hard excitement, weeping a little bubble of juice. It was too early to tell, but this might be one of the shows he liked best, watching a woman masturbate. This one certainly seemed ready for it.

She began with her breasts, stroking and cupping the big creamy cones, tweaking and rimming the nipples to make them hard and pointed. Her face flushed slightly and her breathing slowed, signs of mild pleasure. She kept glancing across the room at her husband's photo, and Mark knew she was pretending that the guy was making love to her.

Presently she began to move one hand slowly down her sleek white body, moving timidly toward her coppery bush. Her breathing quickened, and her face got more pink. She touched her fluffy little muff at last, pressing and petting gently.

Mark leaned against the house, his face very close to the window, his heart starting to pound with excitement. This was going to be a really good show, he could tell. He didn't like to watch experienced masturbators. He preferred women like this one who felt ashamed of the act but just couldn't resist.

Timidly, blushing, she slipped a finger between the furry red lips of her muff and touched her clit. She shivered, sighed. Then she began to rub her starved little joy button, her eyes fluttering, her breath coming fast and excited.

Mark had started peeping when he was about eleven years old, started by accident when he happened to see a neighbor woman undressing. In the next five years he'd refined his technique to an art. He'd even added a variation that most peepers wouldn't have dared try…

"Ohhh," the woman sighed.

Her pale finger was zipping back and forth now, over her sensitive little clit, and she was getting really turned on. To Mark's delight, she began to spread her long shapely legs, giving him a view of her pussy.

She drew her legs wide apart, then bent her knees. Mark saw her wet scarlet gash, plump healthy flesh fringed with delicate copper curls. He saw the tiny dark hole of her cunt mouth, oozing a little trickle of cream. Even her slit was gorgeous.

Moaning softly, the woman began inching her finger down toward the drooling mouth of her cunt. Mark waited, almost shivering with horny delight, waiting for her to stick that finger in there, frig herself – because when she started doing that, it would be time for him to act, time for that variation which ordinary peepers only dream of…

But something went wrong, something brought her back to reality. Just as she was shyly rimming the wet mouth of her cunt, she happened to glance at the window. She blushed hotly and jerked her hand away from her snatch.

Mark knew she couldn't see him. She must have just now noticed that she hadn't pulled the curtains. He grinned wickedly, thinking of her embarrassment. What if the neighbors had seen her, naked on her bed, frigging herself?

She got up quickly, big tits bouncing, and hurried over to the window. Mark braced himself for a slight change in plans. He hadn't expected it to go like this, but he was ready.