The Bedroom Window Pt. 02 by introvertfan,introvertfan

I’m still shocked at what I seen occur in the Jones’ bedroom last week. I haven’t seen much of them since the show they gave me. I can’t stop thinking about Mr. Jones’s wink before closing up shop, closing their blinds and curtains. It was so sly yet so–enticing–like a nonverbal invitation– like a “Thank you for watching.”

He knew–I think–knew what he was doing when giving me his ocular stamp of approval; just like how he knew how to tend to the sweet spots on Mrs. Jones’s neck–the spots that made her succumb to his will–the ones I could feel from a distance in my own bedroom, silently wishing it was me. He knew about my intrigue, my fascination, my curiosity–my wanting to know what the inside of their world was like. That wink said more than words ever could.

It’s Saturday again and I’m not sure what to do with my day. I’m not picking up any additional hours this weekend. I need a break from work. Not only that, but I need to get my mind off what took place last week. For some reason I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. That was only a teaser, and I could only imagine what took place after the curtains were closed.

I pick up my phone and dial my best friend.

“Devine!” she yelps, elated to hear from me.

“Courtney!”

“How you been? It’s been forever!”

“Girl, I know. Just work. You know how it is.”

“You know I do.”

“What you up to today? I need to get out. And I have something to tell you. And girl…it’s something.” I wait for that exhilaration that always came after I told her that I got something juicy to tell her.

“Oh! You got tea?”

“With lemon!”

“Girl! Where we linking?”

“Let’s meet at our usual spot. Our food spot. I could eat.”

“Yes! And I could go for some honey hot wings, too. What time? Maybe two?”

“Perfect!”

“Ok friend! See you then!”

“Bye-eee!”

“Bi-eeeee.”

It’s twelve. I got a couple of hours to kill before meeting up with Court. I really need to find a hobby. I’m so used to work, work, work, that I never make time for play. I’m the type to masturbate when I get bored. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Then I can nap until it’s time to start getting ready.

I flop on the bed, navigating to my favorite porn site that I have bookmarked in my phone. What am I in the mood for today? Some girl-on-girl action? Gay male? Maybe my new favorite category–frotting, when two men rub their woods together until one or both of them cums. Yes, I have a variety of favorites. You would look at me and wouldn’t believe some of the things that get me off. I’m just quiet about them, only delving into details with those closest to me. I think I’ll just settle for the ‘couples’ category. Mr. and Mrs. Jones flash in my mind. Focus, Devine.

I wanna watch something different. I have the same five or six videos saved for quick access, but I don’t mind doing some scrolling to find something I don’t normally watch. Avid porn-watchers know that it can take a good minute to find something new, but I got time today.

I scroll down the first few pages, judging the videos by their thumbnails.

“Ehh. Ehh,” I mumble as I’m searching.

I think I’ve located one that’ll do the job.

Something I noticed but not immediately, is the woman laid out on a bed with navy blue, silk bed sheets in front of a huge window, sunlight dancing in, a high-quality photo. A profile view of her, ready for the taking. The man stands in front of her, blue jeans on, topless, his wood standing at attention ready to dive into her waiting cat. The window was a great size, perfect for someone to gaze, living vicariously through a couple making passionate love. I’m turned on and I haven’t even started the video.

I press ‘play’ and get my fingers in position under my sweatpants that I’m pantiless under. I always forget about the stupid ads. Who came up with the idea of placing ads before a video when you’re ready to get your rocks off? Irritates me every time. I impatiently wait for five seconds to count down to zero so I can hurry up and skip the ad.

Yes. A video that gets right to the point. I hate the ones with the pointless, horrible acting in the beginning that can last anywhere from the first ten to thirty minutes. I’m a to-the-point kind of chick when it comes to this sort of thing.

The man comes into view from the left of the screen, still topless but pants zipped, wood sealed inside. He and the woman share a kiss. A slow, passionate one, the kissing sounds make it sound yummy. My favorite foreplay is kissing–an oral sex that’ll make me cum alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone so deeply and lovingly.

While they kiss, the man takes to her nipples through her thin, white tank-top with his hands. He runs his thumbs around them until they become erect. The kiss grows hungrier. You can tell they are growing ready to eat each other alive. A bulge forms in the man’s jeans, his thumbs still dancing around her now fully hardened nipples.

She takes one hand and massages his wood, the other hand behind his neck, tongue diving deeper into his mouth. I’m only a good five minutes into the video and I’m almost to my peak. I pause the “play” in my pants and just watch for a bit. I don’t want to cum too quick.

The woman comes off the edge of the bed, the man backing up to give her some room. She falls to her knees to unbutton his pants. She uses her hands to undo the button, but her mouth to undo the zipper.

Oh. My God.

A flash of Mr. and Mrs. Jones pops up in my head again.

“After the breast action, Mrs. Jones fell to her knees and unbuttoned his trousers, unzipping him with her mouth.”

I zone out, flashing back to last week’s window scene. I quickly bring myself back to the video.

At this point, the woman already has the man throat-deep, him holding her curly, black hair out of her face while she’s eating him up. Wow. This reminds me of how long it’s been since I’ve sucked dick also–since I’ve ate it up and swallowed the man down. The man being my ex-boyfriend. I’ve been deprived for about eight months since breaking up with him.

We’d been together for two years before our separation. That was two years of being with the same man sexually and never having the satisfaction of stepping out, trying something new–two years of my wildest fantasies only being figments of my imagination. Even if my boyfriend let me try new things, I’d be too shy anyway, I’d tell myself. While this is mostly true, I’d like to think there’s a part of me that wouldn’t be.

I’m not the casual sex type–I don’t think. I couldn’t have sex with just anyone. So, if I did, with whom? I don’t know. All I know is that the Jones’ keep popping up in my head. They were quite the sight to see, I couldn’t deny that. But you see with your eyes; not your hands, mouth, or pussy.

The man’s pants are all the way off. The woman’s shirt is coming off, over her head. He picks her up and throws her on the bed. She seems to fall gracefully, like a feather. She’s more than ready for penetration, and he’s stiff, ready for entry.

He enters her, their eyes glaring into one another’s. She lets out a light moan of satisfaction, her eyes begging him to go deeper. Man. You’d think they’ve done this together before. They have an obvious chemistry–a chemistry like a married couple. This is nothing like other videos where partners are just banging each other’s brains out as part of their job description. There’s a genuine connection between them, or one that makes them feel comfortable.

He glides in and out of her with a gentle firmness, getting adjusted, getting into his rhythm. Their eyes remain locked. She throws a leg around his waist and her hands explore his dark, kinky-curly hair. He starts to suckle on her neck, kind of like… Mr. Jones did Mrs. Jones. I’m getting turned on again.

I’m in the corner of their bedroom, fully dressed, watching it all go down. Mr. Jones is still at Mrs. Jones neck, Mrs. Jones’s head back in pure bliss. She loves when he does that. I’d love it too.

I take a deep, nervous breath, not knowing what to do with myself. All I know is that the inside of my pussy is pounding, almost in tandem with my heartbeat. I can’t believe I mustered up the courage to present myself in their bedroom, watching them make love. I haven’t done anything so bold in my life. This is nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time. Something you can’t stop watching even if you wanted to.

Mrs. Jones turns to me, staring at me like a meal, ready for devouring. We make eye contact briefly and I just as quickly break it, my nerves getting the best of me. I always thought women were beautiful. I’ve kissed a girl or two in my younger days but was never courageous enough to engage with one. Mrs. Jones is definitely a looker. She has thick, lustrous thighs and a curvy waist, a body I’d invest in if I had the funds.

Her long, thick, curly brown hair matched her eyes that continued to pierce through my soul while Mr. Jones was still taking her neck down. Why does she keep looking at me like that? It’s almost like she wants me to join in on the fun. Oh no, I think I’ll just watch, I’m thinking to myself. My assumption was correct. Mrs. Jones took her finger, performing the “come here” motion. Mr. Jones stopped and turned to me.

“Yea, come join us Devine,” he offers.

How does he know my name? Is this really happening? I’m terrified, frozen.

“Don’t be shy.”

Don’t be shy? Yea, he has no idea who he’s talking to. I’m the shy QUEEN. I barely knew how to hold a conversation with strangers let alone have sex with them.

“We’ll make you feel comfortable,” Mrs. Jones promises.

Somehow, she made me feel a bit more at ease. Her voice was soft and comforting, assuring. Her voice could convince you to do anything.

I take a step forward towards the bed. Another one. Closer. Closer.

“UHHH!” I moan, shuddering.

I cum with the woman in the video. It’s time for my nap.

**

I wake up from my nap to get ready to meet with Court. My pussy is sticky from my session. I definitely need to hop in the shower.

I run the water for a few minutes, allowing the water to get warm. I sit on the toilet pondering on the fantasy the brought me to the peak of bliss. I’ve had many fantasies before, but none like this. Me? A three-sum? And with a married couple? This is a fantasy that’ll remain just that. I can already tell I’ll have to practice controlling my thoughts, as I can slowly feel that they were starting to control me.

My shower is finished. I get dressed and meet Court at one of our favorite restaurants, “Wings And Things.” We love this spot because with the variety of meals they serve, we would eat here every day if we could–wings, burgers, subs, salads, gyros, and much more.

“Devvvv!” Courtney shouts when I walk in.

“Courtttt!”

Our salutations are so dramatic.

“Girl, I’m so hungry!”

“I’m hungry for this tea!” Courtney replies.

“You’re hungry…for tea?”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

We bust out laughing. We’re also very corny. This is just our relationship.

There’s no line. We already know what we want.

“Hi. I’ll have…” I pause looking at the menu as if I’m gonna order something new. I do this all the time.

“The honey hot chicken tender meal, like she gets ALL the time! The four piece.” Courtney finishes.

The cashier looks to me to confirm.

“Yea. That.” We giggle again.

“And I’ll have the honey hot chicken wings meal.”

“Will that be all for you two?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Okay! That’ll be $32.55.”

“I got it,” I say, pulling out my wallet.

“Thanks boo.”

“And a name for the order?” The cashier asks.

“Devine.”

I pay for the food. The cashier tells us it’ll be about twenty minutes. We sit down in our favorite booth.

“So, what’s been going on? It’s been forever since I’ve talked to you,” Courtney asks. I hate when she gets all formal. She already knows how it goes with me.

“Girl, you know. Working. That’s like all I do. You know I don’t go anywhere.”

“Trueeee.”

“What about you?”

“Same. Working.”

“Working that Asian dick,” I say. I always mess with her about her Asian fetish. She’s had a thing for them since forever. She always talks about have Blasian babies with long, thick, curly hair.

“You know it! At least I’m working a dick. You not working anything but your job.”

“Wow. See we didn’t even have to go there.”

“No, we didn’t.” We bust out laughing again.

“How long you been messing with this guy now? Like a year?”

“A little less than. Like nine months.”

“Wow. You’re usually on to the next thing after a month or two.”

“Fugggg you!” We’re cackling again.

“But how’s that been going?” I inquire.

“It’d go better if he’d let me tie him up. He’s not having it.”

Courtney and I could always talk about these things freely and boldly. They say don’t delve into your intimate life with your friends because they might get “ideas”, but we’re nowhere near on that type of time. I could learn a lot from Court. She’s open and experimental and not afraid to try all types of things–and people. I could definitely use her input today.

“He said, ‘you ain’t gon tie me down’ like Ray J.”

“Oh my god.” Courtney playfully rolls her eyes and laughs. “So, what’s going on? What you gotta tell me?”

“Let’s talk about this over some honey hot wings and tenders.”

“Ugh. You make me sick,” Courtney says, balling her face up.

“Oh, I love you too, boo!”

“No but seriously. You haven’t had none since Julio?”

Ugh. Why’d she have to bring him up? I’d much rather have gotten into last week’s peep show than this.

“No. No I have not.”

“Well, I hope that’s what you’re telling me–that you finally got your back blown out.”

“I’m gonna blow my foot up your ass.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“Wouldn’t it be my pleasure?”

“No. It’d be mine.” We start laughing.

“DEVINE!” The cashier yells out, our food ready.

“I’ll grab it,” Courtney says.

I sit in the booth, excited but nervous to tell Courtney about the happening and my thoughts about screwing my new neighbors. She’d have some insightful feedback.

Courtney came back with our trays.

“Thanks girl!” I say, ecstatic about the food. Another thing that makes me cum is good food, that’s for sure.

“All right. Spill, dammit,” she demands. Ugh, so thirsty.

I take a bite of my chicken tender, dripping in the restaurant’s famous honey hot sauce, seasoned to perfection. I slurp the sauce beginning to drip down my lip.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve done that,” Courtney jokes.

“Ugh!” we fall out cackling again. “Ok. So, I don’t know how to say this…”

There’s a pregnant pause saying, “I ain’t trying to hear that shit.” The ball is in my court, whenever I’m ready. Only my continuance of the story would break the silence.

“Girl, my new neighbors,” I begin.

“Ooh, what they do?”

“Each other,” I say, trying to sound like I’m joking.

Courtney starts laughing. “What?”

“I saw my two neighbors fucking through their bedroom window.”

“OH MY GOD!” Courtney exclaimed. There are only a few other people in the restaurant. They look over at us shocked, probably making sure we’re mentally stable. “Are you serious?”

“That’s not even the tea, girl.”

“Whettt? What else happened?!”

“The husband caught me.”

“HOL-Y SHIT!”

We both start laughing. Our dramatics kill me every time.

“So, what happened after that?” Courtney is all eyes and ears.

“Nothing really. He…winked.”

“OOHHHHH!” Courtney knew something that I didn’t know. But then again maybe I did know and just didn’t want to be honest with myself about knowing yet.

“There’s something else too. I’ve kinda been thinking about…like…what if…”

“HOLY FUCKING HELL!” At this point, the other customers are growing a bit concerned about what we have going on at our table.

“I haven’t even said it yet!”

“You know that I already know what you’re gonna say.”

“So, what do you have to say now?”

“Hell, knock on the door and tell them you wanna put that pussy on them.”

“I’m not as bold as you.”

“Girl, you gotta live! Girl it’s been what? Eight months? Hell, two years and eight months. The two years didn’t even count.”

“Now that’s harsh.” I’m giggling in between bites. Courtney is so brutally honest and it hurts so good.

“It’s tough love. And I’d love for you to get fucked…toughly.”

I don’t know what “living” is anymore. Courtney was right. The sex with Julio never hit on much and did way more missing. Anything I even dreamed of doing only remained in my mind. It was time to explore, and I was terrified.

“So, what do you say?” She asks, curious about my take.

“Yea…NO!”

“You’re unbelievable. It’s on your mind for a reason. What’s stopping you? They seem down.”

“But I’m not.”

“You need to get down–down on your knees.”

“I can’t take you.”

“You need to take a dick.”

“You need help.”

“You need dick.”

We finished our lunch and headed outside toward our cars parked next to one another’s. We shared a hug.

“Thanks for coming out with me today.”

“You think about what I said,” Courtney advised.

“BYE GIRL!” We start laughing.

“Call me if you change your mind.”

“You sound like you want me to screw you.”

“Maybe I do,” Courtney says jokingly, winking.

“You’re a disgrace.”

“Bye-eeee!” Courtney slides in her car.

On my drive back home, I start thinking about what Courtney said after all. THINKING, that’s it. What if the Jones’ and I were to get together? What would the vibe be like? Courtney was right. They definitely seem like they’d be down. Especially Mr. Jones. He seemed to confirm his stance on this before the curtain-close. How would something like this even be initiated? Certainly not by me.

I’m nearing my driveway. Mrs. Jones is outside working on her front yard. Oh boy. This is about to be awkward. I slow down my speed coming up the road, pondering how I’m gonna greet her if we make contact–if I’m gonna greet her at all. Am I gonna act like I don’t see her? Speed walk to my front door with my head down? I’ll still have to put my key in the door, which’ll give her at least another twenty seconds to notice me. Fuck. Well, here goes nothing.

I arrive at my house and pull into the driveway. Mrs. Jones is standing up, facing my house. She waves while I’m still in the car. There it goes, the contact. I wave back with a nervous smirk on my face. I swing my door open, collecting my bag and leftover food from lunch. Mrs. Jones starts walking over towards me. What the hell?! Now I’m really nervous.

Do neighbors really do this anymore? Approach and introduce themselves to each other? What’s about to transpire here? Is she gonna mention the day? I’d be mortified. I get out to meet her, fixing the nervous smile on my face again.

Mrs. Jones approaches me, sliding off her right yard glove.

“Hi!” She greets me, chipper.

“Hello!” I say, trying not to sound nervous.

“I’m Marcia Rodriquez. You can call me Marcie. We just moved here a few months ago. I wanted to come over and introduce myself.” She put her hand out to shake. Yea, this is definitely revamped hospitality. I can’t remember the last time I had a formal meeting like this. I mean, first and last name? A handshake?

“I’m Devine. Devine Thompson.” I felt compelled to give her my full name since she gave me hers. Wow. I feel…exposed. And now that I know their names, they are no longer the Jones’. They are Mr. and Mrs. Rodriquez.

“That’s such a pretty name, Devine. You are certainly that.”

Is she flirting with me?

“Thank you.”

There’s a pause. I’m not sure what happens next. Introvert problems. Or problems of a girl who watched her neighbors fuck.

“Well, I didn’t mean to bother. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Well, hello to you too. It was very nice meeting you.”

Just as we’re about to part, Mr. Jones–I mean, Mr. Rodriguez, strolls onto their front porch. I tense up for some reason. I can’t handle meeting both of them at the same time. Not right now. This is enough for today. Mr. Rodriguez puts his hand up greeting me, his infamous quiet smile on his face.

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I wave back. Mrs. Rodriguez looks back to their porch. “That’s my husband, Josiah. He’s a little shy.”

Shy? Hell, I couldn’t tell from what took place last week.

“I know the feeling,” I reply.

Know the feeling? Really Devine? I palmed my face in my head.

Marcie giggled. “Say, I would love to have you over for dinner some time. We’re not usually this friendly but we’re trying to be more social. You seem like a nice girl,” Marcie says. Her voice is slightly deep, but still feminine. It’s different from what I imagined, but she somehow still gave me an assuring comfort, despite my nerves.

“Uh. I don’t know,” I answer honestly. Marcie is gentle, but definitely has an aggression to her that’s slight but apparent. She goes for what she wants, quietly making it known that she wants it. I have a feeling that this is her way of telling me that it’s me that she wants.

“Here. How about you take my cell phone number? You can call me if you change your mind.”

I grow even more nervous and tense, my eye shifty.

“Or text. Whatever works better for you.”

Yea. She knows I’m an introvert. Shy, easily unnerved. It’s as if she can smell it on me.

“Sure. Ok.” I hand her my phone and she enters and saves her number in it.

“You take care. I hope to speak to you soon.”

“You take care as well.”

Right before Marcie turns to walk back towards her house. I notice a small, but bold hickey on the right of her neck. I stand there, watching her walk away. Josiah is still standing on the porch, watching his wife walk back towards the house. He then looks up at me.

He winks. Again.

In the words of Courtney, hol-y shit.

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