I’ve always known I had a thing for being watched. Ever since I was just barely legal, I’d leave my bedroom window open, just a crack. Enough for the neighbors to peek in if they wanted. My room is at the front of the house, light spilling out and illuminating my bed at night. A clear view of me slipping my skinny jeans off, peeling my panties down my smooth thighs. I’d arch my back and stretch, letting my cropped t-shirt ride up to flash my flat tummy and the underside of my pert tits.
Sometimes I think I see a shadow stretch past the crack in the curtains. Movement out of the corner of my eye. But when I pause to look, there’s never anyone there. It still makes me clench though, the thought that someone might be watching.
I’ll slide a hand into my panties, purple satin gathered at my hip because they’re a size too small. I like how they dig into me. I’ll tease myself while I wonder if anyone can see my fingers moving under the fabric. I’ll coax myself into a frenzy, my back bowing off the mattress, not caring if my moans carry through the window.
I’ll come harder if I think someone’s watching. I’ll get myself off imagining it’s their eyes on my exposed body. Their gaze searing into my wet cunt as my fingers work me over. I want them to watch. I want the whole neighborhood to see what a dirty slut I am.
I’ll walk around the house in skimpy outfits, “forgetting” the curtains are open. I’ll bend over in short shorts, pretend to lock the front door in a crop top and no bra. I’ll be seen.
It’s the highlight of my day, that electric thrill of possibly being watched, observed, spied on. I’m addicted to it.
888-750-4746 Ext 807
