Tom Peterson fell in lust with the girl next door. Who could blame him? The 15 your old lad lived just ten yards away from the cutest girl in his class, Vanessa Von Tehvue, who had recently matured beyond her years and in all the right places. Only 14, Vanessa nonetheless had all the more of what it is teenage boys long to see and dream of touching. She had a great set of tits and a round little bum that drew boys' eyes and hopes like a magnet.

Vanessa was certainly, what another generation of men would have called, 'a real looker'; and what's more, she knew it. Vanessa had social skills unusual in one so young. She could appear shy and innocent while at the same time sending body language and discrete, near subliminal, verbal messages with naughty double meanings. Coquettish she was, with curly golden tresses falling like a vanity veil over one blue eye and making her fair face a mysterious adventure to behold. But glimpses of the real Vanessa were all boys got as she remained hidden behind a demur deception.

Vanessa was a coquette not a cock-teaser, even though she was a heart throb who made boys' cocks throb. She delighted in the sexual hunt where she was lure and boys were her prey. Moreover, her weapon of choice was the very thing that made boys be boys and men be men: their helpless, uncontrollable lust. But Vanessa was smarter and more devious than the school sluts who dressed in 'fuck-me' short skirts and tight blouses. Vanessa used poise, clothing, a touch of make-up and, most of all, body language to hint, not declare, that a paradise of passion was possible. So young and so clever, not wise but perceptive was Vanessa who understood that neediness was at the heart of male sexuality.

"Feed the need but leave it unsatisfied" could have been her motto, it was certainly her modus operandi. What made Vanessa a coquette and not a cock-teaser was that boys were moved by her sex-siren call, but none saw the allure for what it was; they just felt it and so were drawn in.

So it's little wonder Tom Peterson, living and longing so near that virtuous but voluptuous vixen was caught in her web of wonton, womanly wiles. She was stunning and he was stunned. Their relationship had a mutual simpatico to it, like a well-orchestrated baroque ballet that was played out each night as coquettish curtains were drawn open and Tom was drawn in.

Tom felt guilty, of course, but he couldn't help himself. He had already seen the beauty next door on five successive nights. The first time Vanessa had been reading at her bedroom study desk which was directly across from her open bedroom window. Vanessa's family lived in a bungalow on a corner lot, so her bedroom faced only the Peterson house and was on the ground floor. The only light in her room was the reading lamp, but its 60 watt glow turned a portion of her bedroom into a floodlit stage.

On previous nights when she had a hidden audience, Vanessa would finish her studies several minutes before her bedtime. She exited the lit room, presumably to go to the bathroom. For she returned dressed in a diaphanous nightgown that, given the lighting, showed she wore bikini panties but no bra underneath.

That sight alone would have caught Tom's eye and the first night he was transfixed. What happened next left him in a state of shock, the good kind. Vanessa switched off the study lamp but her room was not plunged into total darkness. The soft glow of a night light left a sensuous but shadowy silhouette. Vanessa stood before her open window and touched herself. Over her negligee her fingers fondled her breasts for a minute or two. Slowly, luxuriating in the caress, this 14 year old girl felt herself a woman and in near darkness realized that vision.

The second night of Tom's peeping was a repeat performance with an erotic encore; Vanessa ventured lower and touched her panty-clad pussy with one hand while her other hand reached beneath her nightwear and tweaked and pinched her bare nipples.

On the third night Vanessa didn't turn the reading lamp off as she returned from her ablutions, but stood before her bureau mirror giving Tom a side view of this lovely lass as she rearranged her long, golden locks with her hands. Vanessa stood with arms akimbo as her hips swayed and her breasts heaved which gave Tom the impression she was dreaming of making love. She turned facing the open window whose curtains were, as always, drawn aside. Her hands were still behind her head as she sighed and then dropped her arms to her sides and slowly lifted her nightwear by the hem until it was bunched at her neck. Then, one hand holding the gown up, the other hand cupped her left breast and rubbed. Her right breast was next. Then the nightgown dropped and Vanessa stepped back and turned off the lamp, leaving a shadow figure in night-light glow.

The fourth night Tom glimpsed full flood-lit nudity but for just a second as Vanessa returned from the bathroom with a large towel about her body. She dropped the towel as she reached for the lamp. In night-light dimness, she walked to the window naked. Tom could see what one of her nightly ablutions included, shaving her pussy mound smooth and bald. A pussy she was now stroking. Tom nearly cried as he faintly heard her moan.

The fifth night was enlightening in more ways than one. The lamp did not go out until Vanessa was in bed. Before then Tom viewed a different but still provocative night time scene. Vanessa returned from the bathroom in a plain dressing gown. She removed it in full study-lamp lighting and tossed it on her bed. She wore a bra and panties beneath. Out of her dresser drawer Vanessa chose three panties and one thong plus two lacy bras. These undergarments she held up one at a time as if she were considering their quality and imagined effect.