My name is Elara, and I have a secret that’s been consuming me for the last six months. My friends, with their predictable lives and tidy relationships, would be utterly horrified. But I’m bursting at the seams, and I suspect you, my beautiful readers, are the only ones who can truly appreciate the predicament I’ve found myself in.
I live in a ground floor apartment that opens onto a shared courtyard. My small patio area, separated by a low railing and a few potted plants, offers an unfiltered view of the building directly across from me. For the better part of a year, the apartment with a direct sightline into my bedroom has been vacant. I’ll admit, I’ve never been a true exhibitionist, but neither am I shy. I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I live with a certain unapologetic freedom. If a fleeting glimpse of my body happens to fall on a stranger, so be it.
Then he moved in. A tall, magnificent man who seemed to command the space just by existing. His name is Leo, and my god, the man is a walking masterpiece. Early forties, a mane of thick brown hair, and the most captivating hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. Standing at least six-foot-two with an athletic, powerful build, he exuded a charming humor that told me instantly I was in trouble. I’m well aware that dating a neighbor is a recipe for disaster, so after a brief introduction where I met his two black labs, I said goodnight and hurried back to my apartment.
I couldn’t get the sight of his crotch out of my head. He was wearing these incredibly soft-looking burgundy joggers that hugged every part of him just right. I don’t know if he was going commando, but the evidence was certainly there. And what evidence it was. I was so turned on, I went straight to my bedroom and made myself come, fingers teasing my clit and my hips grinding in a desperate frenzy.
It was only afterward, in the hazy, post-orgasmic glow, that I rolled over and saw my patio door was half-open, with the thin linen drapes pulled back. The overhead light was off, but the lamp in my bathroom was on, bathing my entire room in a soft, illuminating glow. Anyone looking from across the courtyard would have had a perfect view of my naked body and everything I had been doing.
Embarrassment was a fleeting thought. I quickly recovered, slipping a finger back inside my still-twitching, sopping wet pussy. I looked over at Leo’s apartment. All his lights were out, but I could have sworn I saw a subtle shift in the horizontal blinds of his bedroom window. With a triumphant smile, I got up and went to bed, a thrill running through me at the idea that he had just watched me. I fell asleep fantasizing about him stroking himself to the thought of my body, spread wide and whimpering.
And so, our dance began. I returned to my usual habits, perhaps with a touch more audacity. I noticed his own casual disregard for his blinds, too. It became a routine to catch glimpses of him getting coffee or a bottle of water, completely naked. His body was a work of art, and his cock, a glorious sight. Watching him became a favorite distraction. The most erotic sight was seeing him walk around with a hard cock in those mundane, domestic moments. More often than not, a sighting would send me to my bed to fuck myself. We would occasionally make eye contact across the courtyard, a brief, knowing spark passing between us before we both went back to our lives.
This went on for three or four months, a fun addition to my otherwise solitary life. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but this erotic interplay satisfied a part of me I hadn’t known was hungry.
Then came the night it all changed. I was feeling particularly primal, and my fantasies often revolve around being used. I love fucking my ass with dildos and fantasizing about being used brutally. That night, I was on my stomach, legs splayed, with an eight-inch cock buried deep inside my ass. It was all pointed directly at Leo’s apartment. The room was dimly lit, but I knew I was visible. After a loud, earth-shattering orgasm, I fell into a deep sleep, the dildo tossed to the floor.
I woke the next morning to an unsettling feeling. My face felt like it had been covered in a dried mask, smooth to the touch but crunchy when I moved. I ran my fingers through my hair and found more crunchy tangles. The unmistakable smell.
It was cum. On my face. And I hadn’t been with anyone.
A flash of panic, then a whisper of an idea: Leo. I knew he probably watched me, but had he actually come into my place overnight, stood over my sleeping body, and masturbated to completion? I should have been livid. I should have called the police. But the image of him standing there, using my face as his canvas, was so delicious that my pussy was already soaking wet. I did nothing. I ran a hand over my cheeks and inhaled the scent from my hair. I even tasted a few strands, searching for a flavor I had never known. I was shocked, turned on, and completely in love with the anonymity of the experience.
I showered and went about my day, making no changes to my routine. I didn’t close my blinds, and I left my patio door open at night. When I saw him in the common area, I approached him with a cheerful smile, not revealing that I knew. He had a split-second look of fear, then a smile of relief. I flirted heavily, reassuring him that his secret was safe.
A month and a half later, it happened again. This time, I had a specific plan. I wanted to stay just awake enough to know what was happening. I took a hot shower and, in front of the full-length mirror, made a show of applying body lotion, playing with my breasts and clit, knowing he was likely watching. I turned off the lights and went to bed, leaving the patio door open, hoping for his approach.
I must have dozed off, because I woke to the distinct sound of shuffling. I stayed completely still, my breathing even. I felt the air shift as he came closer to my bed. I knew what was coming. I felt his presence loom over me, and the soft sound of him unzipping his pants. I felt a few drops land on my face, then a warm, thick rain. My face and chest were completely drenched.
He was silent, a shadow in the moonlight. I wanted to move, to sit up and pull him down, but I knew I had to wait. I stayed perfectly still as he put himself away. He was about to leave, to return to his apartment as if nothing had happened, when I heard my name.
“Korrina,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly groan.
I opened my eyes and looked at him. The shock on his face was replaced by a look of wild, unhinged lust. I didn’t say a word. I simply slid onto my back, spread my legs, and grabbed my asshole, pulling the cheeks apart for him. He understood the silent command.
He knelt over me and, without a word, pushed his cock into me, sliding into my wet pussy, then pulling out and repositioning. I felt his cock press against my tight asshole, a slight shudder of hesitation. I urged him on with a sound of desire. He pushed in, and I cried out, my body arching off the bed. He thrust into me, hard and fast, a primal, guttural noise escaping him as he drove into me with a desperate need. He used me like a toy, like a whore, and I loved every second of it. My body was singing, my soul on fire, as he slammed into me with a rhythmic fury. I came hard, and he came with me, a thick, hot load filling me as he collapsed on top of me.
He finally pulled out and whispered, “I came here.”
“I know, baby. I know,” I said. He rolled off me, and we got up to clean off. I kissed him, a kiss that tasted of freedom and forbidden desire, and whispered, “Don’t forget to leave my key.”
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