Chapter 1

Gordon spent a lot of his time thinking about the woman who lived in the house opposite. A single woman in her early twenties, she had a boyfriend who visited a couple of times a week. From his front bedroom window he could see her house, and if ever she left her curtains open, he could see into her bedroom. On a couple of occasions he had seen brief glimpses of her moving inside the room in just her panties, and treasured the memories. But mostly she drew the curtains before undressing and only opened them when she was dressed and ready to go downstairs.

He loved watching on the nights her boyfriend was there. He saw the guy arrive, parking in the street outside, saw him waiting at the front door to be let in. Soon after, she would close the curtains in the bedroom and turn the lights on. Sometimes he saw shadows move across the curtains and knew he was watching her with him. What interested him most was that, often, he saw the flashes of, presumably, the boyfriend's camera, and realized he must be taking pics of her, but Gordon didn't know what sort of pics he was taking. As he watched her more and more he realized it was almost a ritual, the boyfriend would arrive and within minutes he would be taking photographs of her. Sometimes the flashes became regular, and he realized they must have set the camera up on a tripod, with fixed intervals between pics, and he assumed that they would be having sex during those times!

Gordon had quickly rearranged his house so he now virtually lived in the bedroom opposite hers, and kept the window open even when it was cold, so he was able to watch and dream, and occasionally he thought he could even hear them when they had sex. Gordon loved listening for those sounds! He fantasized about the photographs, hoping that they were intensely pornographic, but he had no evidence to support that delicious idea. He set about learning all he could about her.

He found out where she worked, in a hospital. To do this, first he followed her from her home in the morning several times, the first time just watching her walk to the train station, but later he had followed her onto the platform and bought a ticket and sat at the back of the carriage until she got off, then followed her to the hospital. She didn't wear a nurse's uniform so presumably she did some administrative job there.

He found out her name by opening her letterbox one dark evening while she was still at work, and looking through her mail. Brenda Powers! 'Ms', and sometimes 'Miss', Brenda Powers! He was tempted to steal a letter and steam it open and read it, but knew it would probably be something unexciting and the danger was just too great.

He bought a small telescope and a tripod, and set it up at the back of his bedroom, so he could watch her bedroom window when she was in there, hoping to see her through a gap in poorly-closed curtains. He watched her as she walked from her home to go to work, and again as she walked down the street in the afternoon on her way back from the station. He knew the time of her train she normally arrived on, and if she was on time he watched her from the moment she came into view, so he had ample time to study her.

Brenda was tall, with shoulder length dark brown hair, a lovely smile, and a nice bum. But she seemed to have only small breasts. A few times as he tracked her through the telescope he caught the shape of a nipple through her top, and assumed that she wasn't wearing a bra. That thought really excited him. But there was no curves indicated significant breasts.

Up until seeing Brenda's flatness, Gordon had, like most men, fantasized about women with big breasts, but after seeing Brenda with her boyfriend he now couldn't stop wondering what she would look like, doggie fashion, with those delicious little tits hanging down. He yearned to see her topless, to see how small they really were.

Then one afternoon he watched her walk toward her front door, only this time she paused there, fumbling through her handbag, obviously looking for her front door key and unable to find it. Unfazed, she walked down the side of the house, and Gordon was able to see her bend down and lift a plant pot by the fence near the side door. Obviously there was a key hidden there, which she picked up and used to open the side door and go into the house. A few minutes later, she came back out, and put the key back under the pot.

Next day after Brenda had set off for work, Gordon sat in his window stroking his cock and looking down at that pot, and wondering if he dared go across the road, get the key, and go inside her house! When he was sure she wasn't going to come back for something, he zipped up his pants, went downstairs, and went out into his front garden. Looking around, he couldn't see anyone watching, so he walked along the road a bit, then crossed the road, and walked back along Brenda's side of the street until he got to her house.

Trying to look casual but feeling ready to be sick, he walked into her front garden. He was glad it was the side door that he would be going in through, it was well protected bya tall bush in her front garden. Also he thought if Brenda did return, he would be able to get back out through the side door and run back to his house while she was still entering through the front. No, he thought, I must first run along the street, so if she does see me she won't know where I live.

Shivering with excitement, and feeling terribly exposed, he moved the pot, picked up the key, and quickly inserted it in the door. He half hoped that an alarm would start ringing, so he would have an excuse for scuttling back to his sheltered life alone in his house. But no, everything was silent, the door swung open easily, and he found himself looking into Brenda's kitchen. He stepped inside and pulled the door partly closed behind him! He half expected a huge dog to leap at him, but no. Total silence, except for the pounding of blood in his ears.

He stood for several minutes trying to relax, looking around at Brenda's kitchen. He imagined her slaving at the sink, and in his mind he pictured him stepping close behind her, lifting her skirt, tugging down her knickers, and fucking her there from behind, with his hands over her tiny tits. He looked at the kitchen table, and wondered if her boyfriend fucked her on that, and if he took pictures of her tied to it.

The door on his left opened into her laundry, and he went in there and found her laundry bag, and lifted the lid. A pair of Brenda's panties were on the top of the pile. He lifted them out and sniffed them. Black, full brief, nylon. Surely, nothing special for her. Would she notice if he kept them? He decided to delay that decision, and stuffed them in his pocket. He could put them back in the bin on his way out.

He moved further into the house. He came to the foot of the stairs, leading up to her bedroom. He knew he had to go up there, had to see the bed where her boyfriend fucked her, where she posed for him to take photographs of her. He was panting as he crept slowly up the stairs, dreading some other occupant coming charging out of another bedroom and asking "who are you?", or the click of the front door as Brenda returned home early. But no, all was incredibly silent. Even the stairs didn't creak. He knew where her bedroom was, and gently pushed open the door.

As usual, the curtains had been left open, so there was lots of light in the room. He felt terribly exposed, knowing how anyone in the houses opposite would be able to see him! But no, it was the middle of the day, and he knew from much experience that the bedroom would just look black from across the road. Even so he was tempted to close the curtains, because he felt so exposed standing there. But he didn't want to disturb anything. Standing motionless, he tried to calm his racing heart, and decided he would look around but just keep well away from the window.

He looked at her bed, imagined her asleep there, he fantasized about fucking her, tried to imagine her posing naked for him to take photographs of her. He saw a wardrobe, the doors closed, and a sideboard with three drawers. Presumably her lingerie would be in the top drawer. He walked slowly toward it, barely able to breath.