THE WATCHER

It was a warm evening as I strolled down the familiar street in the dark, the cobblestones beneath my feet feeling smooth and worn from years of use. My nightly walk always takes me past her house, and tonight I couldn’t help but hope for a glimpse of her. The curtains were usually drawn, but every now and then, there would be a small gap, offering me a tantalizing view inside. It was never much, just a fleeting image of a figure or a flash of skin. But it was enough to make my heart race and my mind wander.

Of course, I had seen her around town as this young woman lived in the same neighborhood as me. Her name was Anna, or so I had heard from others. From bits and pieces of conversations overheard, I estimated her to be around 20 or 21 years old. Since there is such an age difference (I am in my mid-40s), I have never interacted with her; however, my infatuation with her grows stronger each time our paths silently cross.

I tread quietly by the front of her house and turn the corner, coming upon the side where her bedroom window is situated. The darkness is illuminated by a soft glow, emanating from inside. My heart quickens its pace, knowing that her curtains must be open. As I approach the window with cautious steps, I notice that not only are the curtains parted, but the window itself is cracked open. With my back pressed against the wall next to the window, I gingerly peer inside.

She lies on her back, sprawled across her bed in a blue and white plaid light flannel shirt, her bare legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. She is wearing white panties that are peeking out from underneath the shirt’s hem. Her chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, indicating deep slumber or perhaps unconsciousness. Given the fact that the lights are still on, the window is open, and she is partially dressed, it seems more likely that she has passed out rather than fallen into a peaceful sleep.

A tumultuous wave of inner turmoil crashes over me, leaving conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling in its wake. My mind is a battlefield, each side fiercely fighting for control. On one hand, I know it would be morally wrong to sneak in through the window just to be near her. But on the other hand, my desire burns like a wildfire, fueled by the little devil on my shoulder who whispers enticing words into my ear. The temptation is almost too much to bear as it gnaws at my conscience, urging me to give in to my baser instincts.

In the end, the temptation is too strong to resist. With a slow, calculated movement, I place my hand on the window and open it, holding my breath as I wait for any sign of reaction from the still form lying inside. She remains motionless, peacefully breathing in her sleep. Without hesitation, I hoist myself up and slip into the open window, carefully closing it behind me and drawing the curtains to conceal my presence. Standing in the room, I take a moment to survey my surroundings. The walls are adorned with intricate circular patterns, perhaps a patterned wallpaper. The sparse furniture is worn but adds to the charm of the room. My eyes eventually settle on the bed where she is sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Next to her lies a giant stuffed duck with a bright yellow beak. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t help but smile at the sight of the oversized stuffed animal.

With a flick of the switch, I turn off the harsh overhead light, leaving only the small desk lamp to warmly illuminate the room. I can’t believe I’m actually trying to set a more romantic mood. My heart races as I make my way over to her on the bed, taking in every detail of her form. As I get closer, my stomach flutters with excitement and nervousness. I lean in, our faces only inches apart, and catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath. My eyes take in the faint scattering of acne on her face, and I find it alluring. It gives her a youthful appearance, making her seem younger than she actually is; forbidden. I softly kiss her slightly parted lips, savoring their full and pouty feel against mine. I pull away a bit to see if there is any response. When there isn’t any, I nuzzle into her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume and placing gentle kisses along her skin. My desire for her grows stronger with each passing second.

I tentatively reach out and cup her left breast through her shirt. It is soft and supple beneath my hand. I give it a gentle squeeze, relishing the nonconsensual contact. She still does not stir. Growing bolder, I slowly unbutton her flannel top, exposing more of her milky white skin inch by inch. As I spread open the fabric, her bare breasts are revealed to my hungry eyes. They are full and round, topped with large, pale pink nipples. Unable to resist, I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, feeling it stiffen between my lips. I slowly swirl my tongue around the sensitive bud, causing a soft moan to escape her lips, but she remains asleep, lost in whatever dream world she inhabits.

My hands roam her body as I suckle and nibble at her breasts. I slide a hand down the soft flesh of her stomach to the waistband of her panties. I slip my fingers underneath, my heart skipping a beat when I discover that she is smooth-shaven. I press my hand against her bald pussy, feeling that she is already wet, her folds slick with arousal. I stroke her labia then slowly, cautiously slip a finger inside her, gazing at her face for any reaction. Her pussy is warm and tight and creamy, and I relish the sensation as I gently finger-fuck her.

I know what I’m doing is wrong on so many levels. Taking advantage of a young woman, barely more than a girl, while she is unconscious. Violating her in the sanctity of her own bedroom. But I can’t stop myself. The devil on my shoulder eggs me on, drowning out the feeble protests of my conscience.

I slide my hand out of her panties, then hook my fingers into the waistband and slowly peel her underpants down her shapely legs and toss them aside. She is now fully exposed to me, vulnerable in her intoxicated slumber. I drink in the glorious sight of her naked form splayed out before me like an offering. She has a small row of hearts tattooed on her pale skin just above her pussy. In my mind, she had the hearts placed there just for me.