This was for the excellent Afro Film Viewer for his kind Smutathon donation and the only story I managed to contain within my own wordcount.
I’ve seen them before. They never seem to close their curtains. Their front room faces directly onto mine – only the width of the narrow, foot traffic only street between us. I’ve seen them eat dinner, row. Sit in the eerie blue glow of the TV as one of them slowly nodded off.
Older couple. 50’s maybe. Her older than him. Dyed blonde Helen Mirren hair. He’s rough, dark. Probably stubble.
I shouldn’t watch. Because it’s rude, because their lives aren’t that interesting. But my eyes will always drift over to them and that’s how I find myself now, eyes drifting from the film on my TV to the view across the street.
They’re kissing. She’s in control, at least to start. She straddles his waist, swallowing him alive. Kissing his mouth, neck, across his chest. That’s when he grabs her. Pulls her close. Whispers in her ear.
She sinks to her knees and I creep closer to my own open window. Aware they might see but unable to tear my eyes away.
I watch her reach between his thighs and wrap her fingers around his cock. It’s big enough for me to be able to see it from here. Watch him grab the back of her head and push her down onto it, his head thrown back.
I feel my own cock star to twitch. I watch her head bob up and down.
I reach inside my jeans and imagine her touching me how she’s touching him.
He holds her down and down and down until she pulls back, chest heaving. Beautiful.
She swallows him again, faster, faster and I stroke my cock, faster, faster.
Over the warm summer breeze I hear him growl “Swallow it all you filthy bitch.” and as she swallows his load, I feel my own rise and spill out over my hand.
As the mellow high of climax washes over me I’m sure I hear her voice.
“Do you think he enjoyed that?”