The Girl in the Window

What do you do when you’re naked in the living room and the woman opposite in looking straight at your..?

A bit of midweek sexy fun. This one is for paid subscribers but you can also read The Girl In the Window on Medium.

See the full list of my free and paid subscribers’ stories on SimoneFrancis.com

I stomped into the living room, angry, naked and with water glistening on my skin from the shower. No towels again. I knew where they would be. Steph would have scattered them across the bedroom floor and not bothered to pick them up before she left for work. Why do women have to use so many to dry themselves, I know Steph has big boobs and thick blonde hair but even so.

I know it is a game we play. She leaves the flat a mess, evidence of her little misdemeanours scattered about, knowing it will be the perfect excuse for me to bend her over and administer a punishment later this evening, followed by a mind-blowing fuck.

Standing in the middle of the living room I glance down. Thinking about this evening’s promise and the shower means my morning erection is now a raging hard-on. How am I going to get that into my trousers? I give it a stroke and shudder. No time.

I glance out of the window, the view is filled by the building just across the narrow London street. We have never seen anyone in the building so, assuming it was empty, never really bothered with the binds when walking naked around our flat.

Today, sitting in the window of a flat directly opposite is a woman. Her back is against the wall at the side of the window, her feet are on the wide sill and a book rests on her knees. She is pretty, short blonde hair and wearing glasses. I know all this because she is no longer looking at the book but directly at me, well, directly at my hard on.

“Shit.” I swing around so now my naked butt is towards her. I’m not shy but getting arrested as the neighbourhood flasher is really going to ruin my day. Trying to decide whether to sprint for the bedroom where the blinds are also open or retreat to the bathroom where there are no towels or clothes and glance over my shoulder.

She is smiling and raises one finger, spinning it slowly in a circular motion.

Turn around, is that what she is saying? Slowly I turn back toward the window. She pushes her glasses down to the tip of her nose and peers at me or rather at my now wilting hard on, over the top of the rims and smiles. Then she pushes her glasses back in place and goes back to reading her book. I am not sure whether I have just been insulted or flattered.