11:00 o’clock. Tick tock.
I was never quite sure if she knew about the cameras I’d installed. Sometimes I thought she might and was playing her own game while I played mine. Playing the innocent unsuspecting victim of the pervert next door. The way she flaunted her blatant sexuality as if to taunt me made me wonder at times. Eventually, though, I came to realize she wasn’t smart enough. She was simply just another slut, completely unaware that I was watching her. That I’d come to know her like a lover although she was unaware of my existence. That didn’t make our time together less intimate, however. Especially now. 11:00pm.
Like clockwork. Tick tock. It was no longer simply me watching her. It was a date, even if she didn’t know it. Our hour of intimacy. It began like every other tryst. She sat on the couch, facing the television. I felt my heartbeat elevate in anticipation of our time together. She’d already dimmed the lights so that the only source of illumination came from the screen. I’d set the camera up so that I could watch her, and only her, turning our time together into a riddle. I couldn’t actually see what was playing. Only the flickering light and the sound gave her away.
I remember our first date vividly. Expecting some foolish romantic comedy or maybe a tearjerker, I’d been surprised. Pleasantly so. It had taken me a minute until I’d realized she was watching porn. Ever since, it had become a game I played with her as I tried to guess what kind of porn. Her tastes were varied. Over the months I’d figured out that it wasn’t just straight sex. Sometimes it was girl on girl. Other times threesomes or orgies. Gangbangs too. Every once in a rare while it was bondage or bdsm. I guess she had to be in the right mood.
I watched her from my own living room, sitting on my black leather couch, the image from the camera playing on the 52 inch screen mounted on the wall. HD of course, so I could enjoy every single detail. I felt so close to her, positioning myself so that, had we been in the same room, I’d be sitting next to her, my arm resting on the back of the couch above where she’d be sitting. I could almost feel her warmth. Smell her scent. Hear her soft anticipatory breaths as she picked up the remote and hit play.
Winter. That was the name I’d given her. I’m sure she called herself by something else, but to me, that was who she would always be. I’d named her that because of her hair. Platinum blond. A silver so light it was almost white. It was magnificent. I sometimes dreamed of running my fingers through it. Of feeling it against my chest or, better yet, my cock which was hard now. Uncomfortably so. I couldn’t wait to free it. It wasn’t time yet, though. There was a protocol to follow, after all. Everything had to be just so.
She was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. I felt a moment of rage. How dare she taunt me with her beauty like that? She deserved to be punished. I pushed the thought down, however, not wanting to ruin our time together. I thought about the first time I’d seen her. I’d just moved into the house next door and she was coming out her front door. I’d watched her from behind the blinds, lusting after her perfection from afar. It was love at first sight. She was young. I wondered if she was a virgin? Probably not. Most women are sluts and someone who looked like she did could have fucked anyone she wanted. She looked old enough to drink. Maybe. Maybe not quite. A lot of guys go for big tits and a big ass. Not me. I liked them slender. Petite. Girlish. She was all of those. She was wearing a dress at the time. A sundress. Not scandalously short, but short. Her legs were exquisite. I wanted to lick them, from her toes to her thighs. Small tits. A tight butt. Pale skin to match her hair. Although I couldn’t tell at the time, she had eyes the color of sapphires and a mouth that rarely frowned. I wondered at times if it was because she knew I was watching her. Maybe she was smiling, thinking of how lucky she was to be loved like that. Or maybe she was laughing at me, thinking I wasn’t good enough for a slut like her. I’d have the last laugh, though. By the end of the week I’d have hidden cameras installed in her living room and bedroom. A week later, there were three more, one in her kitchen, another in the guest bedroom, and a third in her bathroom, all linked to my computer. She’d never suspect them, either. After all, I’d become quite good at it over the years.
“Such a naughty girl, Winter.”
She’d made her choice. It didn’t take more than a minute to guess that tonight’s show featured an orgy. Or maybe a gang bang. It was hard to tell sometimes. I watched intently, leaning forward, my gaze glued to the screen, staring as she turned up the volume – just a little – then set the remote aside. I knew what was going to happen next. Like me, she was a creature of habits. Like her schedule. Every night at exactly 11:00. Like clockwork. Always in the living room on the couch.
I focused on her fingers. So long and slender. Fingers I dreamed of kissing. Or being wrapped around my cock as she jerked me off. Her long nails were painted lavender tonight. Every day it was a different color, as if she delighted in surprising me. One of the other things I loved about Winter was she always dressed so feminine. Never in jeans or a t-shirt. It was always dresses or skirts with pretty blouses. Sometimes, like tonight, she’d wear tight fitting yoga pants that left very little to the imagination. I could even tell she was wearing panties underneath them. What color or style, I wondered as I rubbed my hard cock through my jeans. Her blouse was a checkerboard of black and white with short sleeves and white buttons. She wore it untucked, although it didn’t fall much past the waistline of her pants.
My breath caught as the show began in a familiar fashion; with her placing one foot upon the couch cushion, showing off her matching lavender toenails. Her other remained on the carpet. With her legs now spread, I could see her crotch as if she was displaying it purposefully just for me. Again I wondered what panties she’d chosen tonight. They were never bland. No grey or beige granny panties for my Winter. Anything but. They’d be either colorful cotton or delicates lace. I preferred the cotton ones, which I am sure most would find strange, unless I explained why. Lace might be sexier but the cotton made her arousal more obvious once revealed. I loved the sight of them, a damp patch growing where her pussy was hidden from me.
I’d found myself pausing the video at times when I re-watched it, right there and jerk off. Once I’d given in to temptation and snuck into her house and taken the pair she’d worn that night while she was sleeping. Robin’s egg blue. She’d been watching a gang bang in which the girl was particularly vocal while coming and Winter had climaxed four distinct and separate times while still wearing them, leaving the insides soaked with her juices and cum, her thighs coated as well. I’d needed to bury my face them and breath in her fragrance and to taste her…
Afterwards, I’d sealed them in a Ziploc baggie, printing her name on it with a black sharpie before putting it with the others in the trunk I kept in the basement. I hadn’t opened it since, wanting to preserve her scent forever, although I did sometimes go down the stairs and look at them, caressing them through the thin clear plastic while stroking my cock until I’d come on them. Afterwards I’d carefully wiped my cum off the baggie and put it back where it belonged.
Pushing those memories aside, I undid the button on my jeans and unzipped them, my already hard cock tenting my white cotton underwear until I freed it, pulling he elastic band so it was snug beneath my balls. Groaning softly, I settled back and watched, stroking myself slowly as she began to run her fingertips over the thin material of her pants, stroking and stoking her pussy through them. I was mesmerized at the sight, forgetting to stroke myself for a moment or two. When I started again, I glanced at her face, studying it carefully. Her sparkling blue eyes had gone wide, engrossed by whatever was happening on the screen. Her soft pink lips were parted. I began to play with my cock again as I watched the pink tip of her tongue run slowly across her lower lip, wetting it seductively. I let my attention wander downward. Her breasts rose and fell. She was obviously turned on, although her blouse was too loose to tell how hard her nipples had grown.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath and then opened them again just in time to see her slip her fingers beneath the waistband of her stretchy yoga pants. While I could no longer see them, I could follow their movement as she played with her pussy. It was only a matter of time, I thought, until I could see the material darken with her arousal. Soon. Soon. Soon.
“Please be wearing cotton panties,” I groaned, spreading my thighs wider while forcing myself to keep my pace slow. It was torture, but I managed, an image of how I would punish her for it seeping into my mind for a brief moment, turning my thoughts dark. Maybe I would let go of my control and break into her house again and liberate her panties. The temptation was strong. Perhaps too strong to resist. I stopped pulling suddenly, sucking in my breath as I watched her hands leave her pants, her fingers glistening with her fluids. A moment later she raised her perfect ass off the cushion so that she could wiggle out her tight pants and toss them to the floor. Lavender. Her panties tonight were lavender colored – and cotton – and there her juices had already soaked into them, leaving a large dark stain over her hidden pussy.
It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. My cock twitched as if agreeing. I had to stop again, otherwise I’d lose it too soon. It was very important that I blew my load while she was coming. Not before. Not after. At the exact moment.
I concentrated on the the sound of sex in the background – the porn star obviously climaxing on screen. Lucky slut. She moaned and cried and cursed while Winter began to unbutton her blouse, using just one hand, the other busy, her fingers dipping into the waistband of her panties. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She didn’t really need to, although sometimes she did. She was still young, and her small tits were firm and perky and her puffy nipples so beautiful. A lovey shade of pink. Big, too, or at least her small tits made them seem bigger when she was aroused and they were swollen like they were now. I held my breath, waiting for her to start playing with them. Sometimes she just liked brush her fingers gently against the tips. Mostly, though, she liked to treat them rough, groping her petite breasts while tugging and twisting her nipples. That’s usually when she came the hardest.
I was in luck tonight. She didn’t waste time and started abusing her tits right away as if she’d been holding back the whole time until she couldn’t anymore. I knew the feeling. Holding on so tightly, staying in control until you thought you might go mad and then, and only then, giving in to your lust. I fixated on her face as her eyes rolled back slightly. Her mouth fell slowly open so she could suck several shallow breaths down as if she might pass out otherwise. I let out a moan of desperation at the sight and began wanking a little harder. Seconds later she did the same, her entire body shuddering as if it came from somewhere deep within, drawing my attention back to what lay between her wide spread thighs. I actually forgot to breath as her fingers slid from her panties. They were wet. Dripping wet, her sweet fluids clinging to them, turning her flesh shiny. Lifting them to her mouth, she closed her lips around them. I felt a sudden stab of jealous anger that she got to taste the ambrosia of the gods while I watched, unable to do the same. Once again, I thought of stealing her panties. This time, I resolved that I would. After our date, of course. When she had gone to bed, sated and sleepy. I’d watched her enough to know that she rarely woke during the night after her sessions. Tonight would be no different.
When she was done she raised up from the couch impatiently and tugged her panties down, struggling briefly as she fought to free herself from them before raising her legs and pulling them off and vigorously tossing them aside.
“Slut,” I hissed, focused on her beautiful reddish-pink and dripping wet cunt. Her lips were puffy. Engorged with blood and lust. Her clit too, mostly hidden as she abused it with her thumb while shoving a pair of fingers up inside herself. Sometimes she took her time, making it last an entire hour. Others, she couldn’t seem to contain herself and needed to come as quickly and as often as possible. This was going to be one of those times.
She fingered herself as if desperate, occasionally switching hands until her nipples and tits were shiny with her cunt juice. She was shivering with desire, her thighs spreading further apart. Eventually she abandoned her breasts, both hands on her pussy, fingers of one thrusting in and out while she ravaged her clit with the other, her moans morphing into cries of passion until finally, she tensed up, her eyes rolling back, her mouth wide open…
I did my best to keep pace with her, matching her desperation and pushing myself to the very edge while somehow sustaining it without spilling over. Finally, though, it was too much for both of us. I could feel it. I could sense that Winter had passed the point of no return, so I let myself go too, watching, my eyes almost glassy, hanging on as long as I could until finally she erupted, crying out wordlessly as she began to shake and tense as ecstasy began to consume her. Moments later we both came, me spewing cum all over myself while she drenched the couch cushion beneath her…
It wasn’t her only orgasm. The other two took longer and more work and were less intense, but still beautiful. As for me, I could only watch, spellbound, unable to move, fighting for breath until, eventually, she collapsed, sprawled on the couch, the sound of porn still playing in the background.
Eventually she found the energy to struggle off the couch and down the hall to her bedroom, looking almost drunk with satisfaction and bliss. I watched her go, too spent to do more than that. Looking around her now empty living room I noticed her soaked panties crumpled up on the end of the couch, her fragrance and smell still on them.
A surge of hunger filled me, my pulse suddenly racing as I switched to the bedroom camera. There she was. Naked and vulnerable, her head resting on her pillow, the sheet pulled up to her waist so that, while I couldn’t see her cunt, I had a wonderful view of her perfect breasts. I stared, imagining myself standing over her, my cock rock hard, fingers wrapped around it as I jerked off over her until I blew my cum all over her amazing tits. She looked so innocent, but I knew better. She spent every night making me watch her get off on porn. Just another slut who needed to be punished. I watched her, waiting until I was sure she was asleep. This would be my best chance. Not wanting to waste time I didn’t even bother to clean the jizz from my t-shirt. I had to remain focused. Stuffing my limp slippery cock back into my pants, I zipped them up and put on my sneakers. I’d go in the same way I had the other times -through the window in the back, the one leading into her guest room. I knew for a fact that it didn’t shut all the way. After all, I’d made sure it didn’t when I’d installed the first cameras. I took a knife with me to pry it open. And a Ziploc bag for her panties. Then, in the cover of night, I scaled the short wooden fence that separated our houses.
Tick Tock. I didn’t waste any time once I was in, pausing only to listen for any sign that she’d woken up again, panicking, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as dread covered me with sweat when I heard noise coming from the living room before realizing she’d left the tv on.
“Naughty girl scaring me like that. You should be punished for that, slut.”
It didn’t take long to find her panties. They were still waded up on the couch. Unsheathing my knife I used the tip to pick them up, not wanting to soil them with the drying cum that still clung to several of my fingers. Holding them up I breathed her scent in deeply, the fragrance of her young cunt filling my senses and giving me a sense of power. I’m not sure how long I stood there. Long enough to realize that it wasn’t enough to just put them in the Ziploc bag and stow them away in my trunk. Yes, I’d preserve her perfume forever, but at what cost? Locked away like that I’d never be able to enjoy it again. To enjoy her. I needed more. Had to have more. She was so close. Just down the hallway. Maybe it would be enough to see her as she lay in bed, spent, her tits exposed. That’s all I’d do. Look at her. She’d left the door open, after all. It was practically an invitation. Maybe she wanted me to. Maybe she knew that this night I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. Maybe she was still awake, just pretending to sleep. Maybe she was waiting for me.
I lifted her panties, still hanging from the tip of the knife, to my face once more and breathed her in. To only have the memory of her scent forever more was maddening. Walking softly to the doorway, I looked in. Only the moon coming through the curtains and a night light shed light. It was enough. I could see her sprawled on her bed, the covers hiding her most intimate secret from me, a secret she’d shared night after night, tempting me until I could no longer resist. I took a step into the room. And then another, my feet moving of their own volition. Her hair was so beautiful, pale and shining in the soft moonlight. I wanted to touch it. No. I needed to touch it.
I moved closer, carelessly letting her panties slip from the end of my knife to the covers near her feet. It didn’t matter. I’d retrieve them when I was done. I did my best to stay calm, sure that my pounding heart would wake her at any moment. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears as I bent over her, reaching out slowly, careful not to make a sound. Gently I took a lock of her hair between my fingers, rubbing them back and forth. It was so soft. Like silk. I tried to make myself stop but I couldn’t. I felt the elation at being able to touch her turn to fear. At any moment she would wake and ruin the moment. She’d scream. Or cry. Or beg. Or maybe attack him. They always did. And then I would have to punish them. I didn’t want to this time. Not her. Not Winter. It took nearly all my will power to relax my fingers and even more to pull my hand back, but I managed. Heaving a sigh of relief, I began to turn, meaning to collect her panties and leave. She’d never even know I’d been here…
Winter. Her voice sleepy as if waking slowly from a dream.
I froze, then slowly turned my head, my gaze meeting hers, blue eyes growing wide as she struggled to sit up.
Those were her last words. In a panic a struck out at her, my arm swinging in a wide arc, fingers tightening around the knife’s hilt as the blade drew a line across her throat, slicing it open. I winced as her life blood sprayed everywhere, covering her, me, the bed…
“I’m sorry,” I panted, watching as she began to slump over, gurgling as she tried to breath, hands reaching uselessly as she tried to stem the flow. “but you shouldn’t have scared me like that.”
I watched, a silent witness as she took her last breath, feeling both a sense of remorse and relief. It was over. I felt like I was waking up from a dream. A dream of Winter. Now I could move on, free of her temptation. Not without what I’d come here for, though. I retrieved her panties from the foot of the bed. I’d wanted more of her taste. More of her scent. Carefully, I uncovered her, barely aware of the blood soaking her sheets and pillow case. He cunt was still beautiful. So beautiful. Tenderly, I spread her legs apart so that her pinkish-red lips opened up like a blossoming rose. She was still wet. I had time. Taking her panties, I pushed them into her, not stopping until I could only see a hint of lavender peeking out. Then I waited. Waited until I deemed they were properly marinated in her juices and her cum. And then I waited longer. Eventually, I removed them and carefully put them in the Ziploc, let myself out through the window and went back to my house, carrying her bagged panties down into the basement.
Sitting beside my trunk I waited until my hands had stopped shaking, then carefully printed her name on it, carefully placing her alongside the others.
Candy. Blonde. Green eyes. Pink cotton panties. She’d been my first. A cheerleader who liked to give blow jobs to the team captain after a game, though she was still a virgin. Her hair had smelled like peaches.
India. Dark skin. Dark hair. Blue thong. She’d been a waitress at a diner. Her husband drove a truck cross country. She was sleeping with the upstairs neighbor while he was gone.
Autumn. Auburn. Hazel eyes. Red lace panties. She’d been a stripper. Liked to party.
Glitter. Pink hair. Blue eyes. Tangerine cotton panties. Musician. Also worked as a waitress. Single. A lesbian. She’d liked to be tied up.
Saffron. Blonde. Brown eyes. Blue cotton panties with assorted fruit printed on them. Worked at a health food store. Single and dating. Usually had sex by the third date and then ghosted them.
Rain. Brunette. Green eyes. Black lace panties. Worked at a thrift store. She was seeing a married guy with two kids. Loved anal.
Winter. Platinum blonde. Blue eyes. Lavender cotton panties.
“Is that what you named me?”
I felt a sudden chill. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up as my pulse began to race. I was hearing things, of course. It happened sometimes. There were even nights when I’d wake up to the sound of their orgasms. Sometimes I could hear them begging me not to hurt them. At least Winter hadn’t had time to beg…
I heard a soft laugh. Her laugh. More of a giggle, really.
“Beg? I have never begged in my life.”
I turned, wishing I had my knife, suddenly afraid.
She stood there, naked, her pale silver hair falling over her shoulders, her small tits tipped with swollen pink buds. Petite and girlish. I let my gaze drift downward to her beautiful pinkish-red pussy. Her lips, swollen as if aroused, were decorated with glistening dewdrops of her juices.
“You can’t be down here.”
Squatting, I grabbed the bag holding her cum soaked panties and shook it at her.
“You’re in here.”
She smiled, her dark blue eyes full of amusement as she snatched the baggie from his hand and unsealed it and dropped it at her feet.
A sense of vertigo washed over me, making me stumble dizzily to my knees.
I felt sick to my stomach as the entire room, including Winter, began to grow in size. Or maybe I was shrinking. That seemed more logical, if logic could be used to describe what was happening to me. Eventually it stopped and I began to retch as an enormous Winter crouched down over me and plucked me up with her slender lavender tipped fingers.
“Tick tock,” she repeated, her smile monstrously huge as she unsealed the bag and dropped me on top of her used panties. Her scent was almost overwhelming.
“There. You got what you wanted. Time to enjoy the smell and the taste of my pussy. As much time as you want. Forever, in fact, or close enough.”
In a fit of rage, fueled by panic, I tried to claw my way out of the baggie dangling from her fingers as if she found me distasteful. Ignoring me, she climbed the stairs and carried me to her own house and into the living room where I’d watched her masturbate every night for the past year.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be in good company.”
She took the lid off of a jewelry box. I’d seen it before, of course. Every night I’d watched her on the couch. It was nothing special, or so I’d thought. Turquoise colored glass with birds etched into it and some sort of writing in a strange alphabet meant to look mystical. She’d probably found it at a gift shop on a trip.
Without ceremony she unsealed the Ziploc and upended it, dumping me along with the panties I had taken such pains to procure, into the box. The last thing I heard as I fell, seemingly forever, was her laughter, followed by two words.
A Year Later.
She was sitting on the couch, facing the television, the only light in the room being that coming from the screen. I watched, full of dread, my face pressed against the thick turquoise glass. To either side of me dozens of men lined up as well. Just like me, their cocks were hard. Painfully hard. It always was when she masturbated. It would be for the next hour, growing more and more painful with each passing minute until I was on the verge of passing out. And then, it wouldn’t be anymore. Not for another twenty-three hours. The worst part, though, wasn’t the pain. The worst part was that, no matter how hard I, or any of my fellow inmates, tried, we couldn’t come. Many of the others had gone mad with the need and yet, every night at exactly 11:00, we’d be drawn to her, watching her through the glass, yearning to touch her. To taste her. To come...
Just like clock work.
I took a deep breath as she slowly pulled her panties down her thighs. Blue cotton and damp. I moaned and tried to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I hated that I was unable to look away, but the pull of desire was too much. Maybe this time, I thought as I started to jerk myself off, staring as she ran her fingers up and down her dripping wet slit, her ever present fragrance from the lavender panties she’d exiled me with filling the glass box. Maybe this time…
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than avataransk.ru
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.