GRETA: PEEPING

College girl, masturbation, head-job, intense,

You know you'll probably get caught, but she is so damn pretty through her open window, brushing her long fine hair, seated at her bedroom mirror.

She'd probably see your ogling, glued-fixated eyes peering from her yard bushes — if she glanced outside. The view over our fence and from my bedroom just wasn't clear enough.

I had added trespass to my neighbour's garden.

Who was I kidding? This was perving.

Greta, the girl next door, presented so damn hot. She has been my dream girl since she moved in two weeks ago. Though I was initially shattered when I saw her private college girl's uniform, I had hoped beyond hope that she would be at the local public college I attended.

Though equally, my crushed fantasy of meeting her at the local bus stop or the school lockers was lost in her frickin short arse flaunting tartan skirt and her crisp breast-defining white blouse.

Damn the heavens, her mother drove her to school!

I decided to leave earlier for college each day to catch glimpses of her in her driveway each morning. But like all eighteen-year-old senior college girls, she had no frickin consistent schedule.

Yeah, college girls.

If it's not their hair, it's their makeup, shaving their legs or preening their pubes.

Something delays them!

Twice I had seen her as I left to catch the school bus at the corner of the block, twice she had given me that seemingly friendly new neighbour smile.

I stayed realistic…surely it couldn't be anything more.

However, I couldn't believe my luck at about ten o'clock this Sunday night. I was close to wanking off over the untouchable girl next door when through my open second-storey window, searching for any late breeze on a stifling late summer night; my room caught a high shard of light, which I knew came from next door.

I craned my neck at my window; neighbouring houses are designed so windows rarely confront each other directly.

All I could tell was that the ground floor window was open, the vertical blinds drawn to the side, and someone was seeking any breeze, the same as me.

I hoped beyond hope it was Greta's room as I sneaked downstairs, out the backdoor and peered over our fence, only in my boxers. I did not intend to cross the boundary and end up being charged as a pervert.

However, my viewing angle from our fence caught the moment of Greta's movement across her wide-open window.

I hit an almost instant boner; she was parading around her room in her flesh-toned skimpy knickers and lacey bra.

Led by my pecker, I climbed over the dividing wooden paling fence. I was behind a reasonable-leafed bush in Greta's side garden.

Oh man, I had the view; she was at her mirror brushing her hair.

Her hand brushing her long, flowing, shiny locks made me think she'd be a cock stroker par- excellence.

My hand tugged my cock, my eyes mesmerised. She presented as college girl perfection. Perfect eighteen. She stood up, her hair so shiny, and then she moved and was obscured from me.

The bedroom light flicked off.

Damn it. She's in bed!

Suddenly, a softer light cast shadows around her room.

A bedside lamp!

Holy Shit, Sweet Jesus.

Yes, yes, yes, as I tugged faster because her panties and bra wafted momentarily like confetti in the still air of her bedroom before they both disappeared below the sill.

Greta had to be naked on her bed. Naked and atop her doona. It was too hot for even the most refined Egyptian cotton sheets.

The lamp clicked off.

I remained too scared of getting caught to peer directly over the sill of the window into her room.

I calculated whether to wait five or ten for her to be asleep.

To peek at Greta buff, lying in her birthday suit. I imagined her boobs perky and alert even in slumber or her exposed buttocks as she lay on her side.

Yeah, male fantasy land.

Waiting and not brave enough or foolhardy to peer inside her window.

If she screamed, I'd be in a police car in my jocks.

Then I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm, oohh, ooh, ooh!"

Delectable soft moans, building in tempo quickly.

I realised she touched herself, randily stirring her pussy with intent.

I male imagined, but I needed the visual!

Compelled to risk all, peer over her window ledge, and look in her room, my feet were precariously placed on a lucky but strategic large planter box.

Hopefully, she got herself off with her eyes closed.

I stuck my head through her window.

Rash because I couldn't see her otherwise.

Initially, I confronted a dark blur, but God, my night vision came into its own, aided by a fair bit of moonlight.

The Deity of Sex favours the foolhardy randy!

Greta, the divine, lay on her bed, her legs spread in my direction, her fingers of one hand clearly over her clit and her other hand definitely in her slit.

Oh, Wow, Oh My!

Given my awkward balanced position, I should have kept my hands on the window sill, but I needed to involve my cock in the action.

Currently, Greta's pussy maximised all the fun. My cock reared forlorn.

As her girly moans escalated, she pitched staccato, "Ooh, my, oh yes, fuck yeah, but I need a guy! Ooh, ooh, ooh!"

God, the randy tart frigged her slit fast.

I jerked off at a rapid pace, too. Until I lost my balance, cracked the side of the ceramic planter and lay on my back on the lawn grass with my boner pointing directly up to her window.

I knew discretion or police arrest by screaming parents required that I scrabble up fast and high-tail it over the boundary fence.

Escape and lurk, safe in the dark.

I went to get up and realised I twisted my ankle.

The pain started to throb as I hobbled and gingerly put weight on my foot.

"Ouch, damn, ouch," I gasped.

Greta's flushed head peered out her window.

Her hand went over her mouth, barely suppressing a laugh.

I should have had the fear of God and the Police in me.

Caught as a Peeping Tom pervert red-handed.

But all I wanted to do was smell her hand, the one over her mouth, and imbibe the scent of her expressive individual pussy musky sexuality.

I considered for a moment that I must have looked ridiculous. My still erect youthful boner poking out of my boxers and my hobble, wobbly gait.

"Oh, your poor, poor, needy cock," she finally said softly.

Her voice, girly, lilting angelic. Her long, fair hair crowded around her soft facial features.

"I think you need relief," she added.

"No, no, I'm okay…. I'll go…. I'll go…I won't be back," and I was ready to slink away.

Embarrassed beyond mortification and petrified of her parent's likely appearance or maybe mine.

"Oh no… you need some help…climb in here…up you come, "and Greta extended her arm, and my hand clasped to her elegant fingers, and as I scrambled up, I caught a quick whiff of her heavenly musky private zone lingering in the pores of her fingers.

Thank you, God.

I did the one-step hobble to the seat in front of her mirror.

Greta was looking at me…well, sort of me…but not my eyes…my filthy exposed erectness dominated her attention.

"Oh, you need help, "Greta said, hitting her knees before me.

My cock centred in her hand, and I had that delicious fulsome pecker attention moment, touch directed, my shaft and balls so alert to sensation and desirous for touch.

Amazingly, it continued.

Her hand gripped my rod, a toy now plied by her riveting fingers in a tuggy, pully motion of instant male satisfaction.

My balls tightened, but she managed to manipulate my sac skin; no part of my equipment was left uninvolved in the fair-haired angel's cupping and rubbing action along and under my length.

Her lips devoured my head. Her lips slunk along my shaft; I saw my cock disappear in her mouth: ball deep as sheer pleasure arose from my pecker tip to my skull as a continuous rhythmic cock suck motion followed.

My cock was a god of the moment, and I had a devotee to my happiness, a girl fully man-meat-focused.

The height of cock pleasure is being sucked off and sucked off well.

Greta was there. I received.

All you can do is groan and groan and urge the girl on between your grunts.

"Orrgh yeah, orrgh oh, oh yes, oh, yes, oh!"

I was full of the worst and best of male encouragement: "Yeah baby, more, more…give it your best…oh yeah…so good…so good…suck it…suck it, baby."

I looked down from my Olympian perspective, Greta on her knees: pecker worship was present. I saw a spit fest arousing my schlong, my cock so stiff.

At the moment, I was fully engaged in her performance, my cock in love with her mouth, and her lips were divine. The pressure: the beautiful pressure, and the sweet: sucky, sucky action, near ball bursting, but you want it, you risk losing your load… she is that good.

Her head is coming and going and coming back towards your body, your cock loving life in her gob, her mouth loving your pecker. You join the rhythm of the moment, rocking your pelvis towards her mouth.

You are being sucked. Totally sucked off. Her hand is at your shaft, pressing into your pubic bone; you are so hard and happy for yourself. Her pressing into your pubic bone makes your dick seem even bigger.

Your ego is rampant as she sucks you, sucks you, sucks you.

My brain and cock head were all hers, my mind and dick shaped in her mouth, pleasured by her lips, greeting her smooth dirty sweeping tongue over and under my cock tip.

Heaven in a tongue.

Greta's head bobbed from side to side like one of those clowns in a sideshow alley.

Gaped, her gawped mouth needing a filling.

Oh, she got it all right, my cock down her gullet.

My cock tip and her tongue twined in a lust embrace. The blood flow to my hard pecker head was maximised and genuinely directed to the only exit.

Pussy relief!

My body caught immediately in what can only be described as stream-of-consciousness sex, body awareness centred on my pecker and her exposed, eager, expectant pussy.

The realisation of exactly where your cock is stuffed: directly and suddenly in Greta's absorbing stunning flesh trap: her pussy oozing wetness and compaction, her girly slit, seeking cock shaping hardness and sensitive skin savouring pleasure.

She ground into my cock as I sat pinned to her dressing table chair. She was spread over me, facing away.

Her feet flexed with her thighs, giving her traction and pressure as her booty pummelled my pelvic bone. My cock lay buried in her inner seeping warmth.

Man, oh man, was she a dream fuck.

The gorgeous long-haired beauty craved all the work as she eased up and down off my cock, creating the space and the added friction.

Her frickin soft moaning drove my cock to plough her even harder.

"Ooh, yes, oh yes, fuck yes, oh my, oh fuckin yes," Greta squealed.

God, where were her parents? 

The thought disappeared in my groaning.

"Orrgh, yes, baby, fuckin' yes baby, oh, my baby!"

She was happy: "Ooh…Ooh …Orrgh…Ooh …Mmm…Rrrh…Oof…Ooh… Ooh."

The oof wince as I fingered her tight butt.

Maybe not today, I thought…but!

Her exertion made Greta pant.

"Ooh, ooh, ooohh!"

She needed help to get to her apex.

I took her hips and started controlling the thrusting into her perfect cock holding flesh cavity. Both our youthful needs were equalled in each measured drilling thrust—lust combined.

I jack-hammered her slit as I saw her panties crumpled on the carpet.

Her slim knickers no longer hide anything.

My cock anchored in her treasure cavern of male happiness.

"Mmm…Mmm…Oh Yes…Yes…Yes," she purred as she found the willpower to change her position and straddle over me, facing me.

Her breasts were sweaty, crushed on my hot chest, and her nipples squeezed extra close. My hands grabbed handfuls of her butt, and joining us was the squelchy, fucky sound of our connected bodies, nearly as loud as her moans and my groans.

"Mmm…Mmm…Orh…Ah…Yes…Yes. I like it. I love it, ooh, ooh yes!" as Greta reached her climax, jamming into my pubic bone, and her yelps of delight signalled my explosive jizz release very deep in her embracing, now slushy, syrupy slit.

Oh, the question of where her parents were — was answered abruptly by car lights, engine noise, and an ignition being turned off in her driveway.

"Oh, Christ!" Greta yelped, "Get out the window. Now!"

My assuaged cock brought the focus back to my ankle. My throbbing discomfort had been lost in cock glory.

Still, I scrambled out the window and was about to ease down from the broken planter when Greta leaned out.

Her fair, fine tresses brushed my face.

Yeah, I lost my bloody footing again, and this time I skinned my knee on the brick wall of the house and was looking up at her spread arse crack pouting over the sill.

"Dream of this for next time," she smirked, craning her head.

"Quick…Go…Go," she said.

Then Greta added, "Tuesday…at nine… I'll leave the window open."

My babe disappeared.

I started to scramble over the fence clumsily, sore but happy.

A pair of frilly flesh-coloured knickers lobbed on my head. I clutched at them and landed badly on my side of the fence.

I heard Greta twitter and snigger.

I grabbed the fence top and braced myself to see her.

Her face emerged brilliantly flushed in the moonlight.

"Oh, the panties…something to help you keep focused on me till Tuesday," she said quietly before she eased out of sight.

I didn't need the delicate, delicious underwear to help keep Greta at the forefront of my mind.

She just was —she was there.

Roll on Tuesday night, and Greta's waiting arse!