She's a white bitch. A FAT white bitch. I'm watching her; she's naked on the bed. She's got two fingers in her puffy hairless slit, rubbing. masturbating. Jilling off. Whatever. I'm watching.
It started last Tuesday. I wasn't out to perv -- I had just got a new pair of binoculars for my birthday. I'm looking at airplanes, at the stars, at the moon. As I get ready to put them away I sweep over the building three doors down, and there she is on her bed, naked -- masturbating. So I watch her...
She's got a method. She starts out with two fingers, rubbing her clit. Maybe she pinches one of her nipples. She's got some nice fat titties. Then she gets out this little six inch vibrator. It's black -- I like that. I'm black. She runs it over her hairless slot -- I guess she shaves. She rubs it around, up and down. Then she puts it in her pussy hole and starts pumping it while she rubs her clitty with her other hand. Sometimes, she rolls over and kneels up on the bed with her head down and her big ol' ass in the air, her legs spread wide, both hands under her, pumping that vibe and rubbing her clitty. She's got a serious ass, like a couple of soccer balls, but soft and jiggly, with those cellulite dents in it. When she gets going, the muscles clench -- one side, the other side, sometimes both. It's cute.
Anyway, after a while, she starts shaking and panting and gets all pink in the face. Then she can't hold still and starts kicking her legs. She's probably moaning, but I can't hear her, of course. Pretty soon, she starts thrashing around and arches herself in the bed, her feet digging in the mattress as she gets all tense, then she starts to jerk and quiver. She'll lurch and bounce a couple of times, and then fall back and start just rubbing the vibe in her slot again, cooling down, looking all flushed and happy.
It's hot. I blow a nut on the window regularly, watching.
She generally does two shows a night -- one around seven, and one a bit after eleven, when the news is on. She turns off the light after the second show -- I guess it's bedtime.
I think she watches porn, but I can't see the source.
It's been about ten days, now. I'm all into that shit. I want to fuck her brains out. I guess I'm obsessed.
She's on the twelfth floor. I'm on seventeen. The angle is ... perfect.
She's a BBW, I guess. Maybe she's even super-sized -- I don't know how you measure those things. She can still see her pussy, I guess -- I KNOW she can get at it. Did I mention that it's bare? She must shave, right?
I said something to one of my buds. He said, "What you want with a fat white bitch?" I want to FUCK her! DUH! Fuckin' moron...
I'm an ugly motherfucker. You know how all that baggy shit is popular, right? My shit was ALWAYS baggy! I got a shank on me, though -- got some shit hangin'. She's gonna want that motherfucker -- it's got it all over that tiny-assed vibrator of hers!
It's Wednesday. It's been two weeks, maybe. It's raining. It's time for the seven o'clock show, but I can't see shit. Wups! There she is, standing at the window, naked, playing with her fine, fat titties. I guess she can't see shit, either.
I'm wondering why she can't get no dick? Okay, so, she's a fat white bitch – but she ain't ugly or nothin'. Okay, she's got a wide face and is kinda buck-toothed – and that nose turns up maybe a little too much. She's got two chins, but the second one comes and goes. Her belly don't flop over her pussy or nothin'. So what's the problem?
There's another woman in the place – her momma, maybe; she's older. She's a BIG bitch – like a washing machine with legs or maybe a refrigerator. Tits the size of watermelons, ass for DAYS! She wanders around in thin house dresses, looking like a circus tent. She be an SSBBW, I figure. She don't go in my bitch's room all that much – I see her in the other apartment windows.
I bet she don't get no dick, either. I wonder if she masturbates?
I'm goin' NUTS! It's been THREE WEEKS! I have GOT to fuck that shit! How the Hell do I get at it? I rack my brain, day and night. Momma wants to know if I'm sick or something. I tell her it's trouble at work. She doesn't know I spend my nights jacking off watching a fat white bitch masturbate.
I've got to get into her building and up to the twelfth floor. There's security, so that's the FIRST hurdle! I know a guy who knows a guy who beat the shit out of a bike messenger and took his shit. I pay fifty bucks for it – now I'm a bike messenger named DeWayne. Except my name isn't DeWayne...
Where IS she? She's been gone since Sunday night! It's Thursday, and I'm freakin' because she's SUPPOSED to be home, rubbing that pussy of hers! Big Momma is around, and maybe she plays with herself, but I don't see it – her bedroom isn't visible. Besides, there are limits, right? Aren't there? I'm not sure. SOMEBODY fucked that...
She's back on Saturday, looking pink in some places. Vacation? Maybe she went to Aruba. I worry for a week that she met some guy, but she's back to the grind. I get my daily fix and work on the plan...
It's Tuesday, after the early show. It's time to do a recon. I get into my messenger shit and circle around to the entrance of her building – it's on the next street – and hit the lobby, looking officially busy. The security guy tags me and wants me to sign in. My chicken scratch doesn't say DeWayne – Hell, even I don't know what it says! Security Guy doesn't give a fuck, though, so I'm in! I head on up in the elevator.
I'm in the hallway. I have yet to see a camera. I knock on the door.
There's a rumble and I wait and as I'm getting ready to knock again, the door opens partway. Shit! She's got one of those chain things! It's Big Momma. I get an eyeball, half a lip, two chins and the circus tent. There are feet down there, but I don't see them. While my eyes are on the way back up, Big Momma leans on the wall and I pick up a bulge. It's a titty – fucking huge – pushing the tent out and to the side. There's a nipple there at the end, poking the fabric like a tent pole. She's braless! It's awful – and it isn't. I stand there with my head down, looking at it. "Is this Twelve-Seventeen?"
"No, this is Twelve-Fifteen. Can't you read?"
The door closes. I walk away. I've learned two things – they've got a chain, and Big Momma goes braless under her tents. Okay, she's GOT to play with herself, right? I must be a sick motherfucker...
So what do I do with the chain? I could cut it, I guess, but then Big Momma would know someone has been there. I'm gonna assume that My White Bitch is gonna want to keep me a secret. I saw something in a movie once – you need something that's narrow and bends the right ways. I work out something with a ruler, some tape, and a chunk of coat hanger wire and I practice with it for two days on my own apartment door, standing in the hallway looking stupid. Any idiot could figure out what I was up to ... There's STILL the door lock – but I didn't hear that on my recon; Big Momma just opened the door...
I get on with the plan – permutations and combinations. What if she does this? What if she does that? What if Big Momma shows up? There are a lot of 'What if's. I work my way through them, as best I can. Some of them just don't seem to have a solution. Some of them I can fix, but it will break something else. I get to thinking about it and realize that my sex life is likely to be what happens in jail. I'm not sure which end of that I'll end up on – both, maybe. It's situation-dependent, too. I work on the plan for a week straight, when I'm not workin'. There are limits, though – it be time to jump big or stay to home...
It's Thursday night, after the eleven o'clock show. I missed it – I've been hanging out in her building since eight. When I signed in, I crossed the 't's in my chicken scratch signature so long that it looks like it was scratched through; I figure the new guy on shift will think I left already. I go through my bag of shit – mask, gloves ... I hope to fuck I don't have to wear gloves – I want to FEEL her! Gag stuff, some other miscellaneous doo-dads. No weapons – this isn't about that. My chain remover. I sit against the wall in the hallway on the floor below her, picking through the shit and freaking. I'm about to piss myself – but I've come this far ... I wait until after midnight to go on up.
It's quiet in there. I'm standing there with my ear to the door. There's no light under the door. The knob turns slowly under my gloved hand; I stand there imagining her watching it, like a scene from a horror movie, slowly turning...
The latch clicks! The door moves! Shit! I'm in! Well, not yet ... I break out my chain remover and carefully apply it. The chain end falls away noisily, but it's gone ... I step inside and quietly close the door.
I reach in my bag and get out my mask. It had to wait – what was I gonna do – hang out in the hallway wearing a mask? Why not carry a sign that says 'BURGLAR!'? I put it on. Time to look around...
Big Momma is asleep, splayed in the bed on her back in a yellow print nightgown that is cotton, but so old it might as well be see-thru. She takes up the whole bed. She's wearing one of those mask things that help with your breathing. It makes a lot of noise, which is probably a good thing.
She won't have seen her twat in a while – her belly hangs over it like a shield. I can see it when I squat at the foot of the bed – her legs are spread, showing those brown marks fat women get. It's hairy like a motherfucker – Big Momma doesn't shave. Shit, she probably CAN'T! I bet she sits everywhere with her legs gaping open, trying to get air to that motherfucker – I would.
I trip over something on the way out. I reach down and pick it up – it's a dildo! A BIG motherfucker! She must have dropped it when she fell asleep after HER eleven o'clock show! I wonder how I could see THAT – I don't have any angle on her room. Sighing, I kiss off the whole thing – it's not what I'm there for. I'm here for MY bitch – and she beats the shit out of Big Momma! I put the dildo down beside the bed and slide out of there.
My white bitch is naked under the sheet, on her back – like she always is after the eleven o'clock show. I look around, and sure enough, there is a computer monitor on the desk opposite the foot of her bed. It's on – I go over and jiggle the mouse, masking the monitor with my body, and a porn site pops up. I turn off the monitor and turn away, grinning; it would take too long for the screen saver to kick in and dim the thing.
Can I lift the sheet? I'd gone through this in planning; I could if the conditions were right – and they were. I put my bag down on her night table and fish in it for the gag in order to have it ready, just in case. I hold it in my right hand, but deep in the palm – I can still pinch the sheet with my fingers. I collect the edges at both of her shoulders and slowly lift it away, taking it all the way to the foot.
She takes my breath away! Yeah, okay, she's a fat white bitch – we've been all through that, right? But she's hot and sweet and I'm seeing details my binoculars didn't give me, like the light fur on her arms that glistens in the moonlight. She has dimples, and a deeply embedded bellybutton. I've seen her belly, and it hangs some when she's up on her hands and knees, pushing that dildo into her twat, but when she's flat on her back, her belly is flat, too. It does NOT hang over like Big Momma's!
I take some time to soak up details – the mole on the outside of her right titty, and the size of her pink areolas when they're relaxed and she's asleep. Usually when I see them, they're all wrinkled up and her nipples are popped out. She's got another small mole on the right side of her neck, where the hair would usually cover it. I want to kiss it – BAD! She has these little curly tendrils of mouse-brown hair there...
I'm fucked up – as hard as stone, panting. So close ... Her mouth is open – she's got a little gap between those buck teeth and I can see her tongue – so cute! Fuck, I'm in LOVE with this bitch, and I don't even know her name! It seems like we've been dating forever – and she's never seen me! That's SOOO fucked up! I'm not gonna have to worry about jail – I'm going to the funny farm. Who gets fucked at the funny farm, I wonder?
It's time. It's PAST time, but I'm shakin' like a dog shittin' razor blades, so I've been putting off the moment of truth. I climb slowly onto the bed and settle over her belly; she's wide, but I'm a tall, long-legged, long-dicked motherfucker, so it works. I'm not touching her anywhere except maybe along her wide hips. I slowly lower the gag over her mouth...
Her eyes pop open – they're green. She screams into the gag and starts thrashing around, so I settle on her belly, pinning her, but not bringing my weight to bear – this isn't about that. I lean up, getting inside her attempts to swat me. "Shhh! SHHH! Be quiet! I'm not going to hurt you!"
She looks at me like I'm nuts and starts talking into the gag. I'm begging her, "Please! Be quiet! Don't thrash around so! Let me talk! I've seen you – I watch you, here, every night! We need each other! I brought you a present – something a lot better than that black dildo..."
She covers her face with her hands. She's crying, embarrassed. This is NOT going the way I planned it! She says something into the gag. I try to get her attention – she's not trying to throw me off anymore, at least.
"I brought you a present. I know you need it – I've SEEN you, night after night! You're so hot..." She's looking at me like I'm insane, but she's kind of frozen. I take her hand, gently, and I put it on my shank, where it is poking my sweatpants, rock-solid. "You need a man, Baby. I need a woman. Let's help each other!"
She snatches her hand away, and shakes her head, bug-eyed.
"What's the matter, Baby? I won't hurt you – I promise! This isn't about that."
She grabs my hand – the one holding the gag – and tries to peel my fingers away. I look at her, worrying. Will she scream? I lift my hand, just a little bit – and a terrified whisper of "Please don't rape me!" leaks out around it.
I rock back, horrified! Rape? I don't want to RAPE her! "Baby this isn't about that! This is about watching a woman hurt for a man night after night, but not having no way to talk to her about it. This is about not having no way to tell a woman how hot she is when she plays with herself. This is about just not having no other way to get here!"
"Go away – please! I won't tell anyone. Just don't touch me. Go! I think maybe you need help. Please – just go! I don't know what you think you're doing, but this is rape!" She's whispering – and I'm letting her. She's hurting me – BAD! Every word stabs me like a knife! For a moment, I think about hurting her back – saying 'fuck it!' and taking what I came for. But that isn't right – that isn't me ... and it isn't EVEN what I came for, really.
"No," I insist, "This isn't rape. But I can see this isn't going well. I'm sorry – I had high hopes for us. Give me your hands..." I reached into my bag for the Velcro wrap.
"What for?" She's scared again – still. Those eyes of hers are wide with fear. Did I mention that they're green? Beautiful. They're hypnotic, reaching out to me from her anxious face.
"I'm going to wrap your wrists with this," I said, producing the Velcro. "It won't hurt – I'm not into hurting people – but it will slow you down so I can get away. Understand?"
"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Frustrated, I drop low over her, my masked face close to hers. "Fuck no! I CARE for you, Baby! The LAST thing I want is for you to be hurt or killed! PLEASE cooperate – you're scaring yourself! I'm doing my best not to cause you any pain..."
"Okay," she whispered back. "If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead already, I guess."
I lurched up, angry and frustrated, and emptied my bag on her belly. "Do you see a weapon here? I sure as fuck don't! I NEVER, EVER planned to hurt you!"
"So it's just a rape..."
"It's NOT!" Sighing, I gave up. "Please give me your wrists."
"Okay." She closed her eyes and squinched up her face, but she presented her wrists. I wrapped them with Velcro, then got out the vet wrap. "Okay, raise your head..."
"I have to gag you. The Velcro is to keep you from getting the gag off before I'm gone, okay?"
" ... And I'll be nice and quiet when you get out your gun or knife or whatever..."
"Close your eyes, then. I can't convince you that nothing is going to happen, but when you open them, I'll be gone – and, I guess, if you're right, then you won't see it coming, huh?"
"Okay." She closed those eyes – and they leaked tears while I placed the gag and ran the vet wrap around her head four times. I bagged my shit and got off her and leaned down to whisper, "Good night, Baby. I'm so sorry. I never meant to scare you. I thought ... Never mind..." I kissed her on the cheek, getting my lips wet from her tears, and cat-footed it out of there. She was already struggling when I hit the door.
The cops came – but it took two hours. I teased my hair out so I would look different, not that she saw anything but my mouth, really. I hid my binoculars in our family's storage locker downstairs. I was devastated! I don't cry – you never let them see you cry – but in my room with the door closed, I cried my eyes out, wetting my pillow. The whole thing had gone so totally fucked up! Looking back on it, I saw fundamental mistake after fundamental mistake, but I had been captivated by her, drawn by her need and my matching need, obsessed. I had thought and thought about the whole thing – and yet I never looked at it from her side, never realized that there was nothing I could do to keep her for believing that I was going to hurt her. Where was my head at? I thought about checking myself in to a psychiatric clinic, but if they said I was sane and the cops checked the place looking for a rapist, I would be as good as turning myself in...
It's been ten days – well, eight since I got up the guts to go get my binoculars. Nothing has happened on the police front. I kind of wondered why.
Her curtains are closed – and they never used to be. She comes to the window at night, several times, and looks out, looking all around, then closes them. This thing is busted. Shit. I had a good thing, but I got greedy...
Three week and two days since we were together – such as it was. It's time for the seven o'clock show, but the theater has been closed for a while. I pick up my binoculars, just to check, hoping against hope...
THE CURTAINS ARE OPEN! My bitch is on her bed, naked! She's fingering herself, warming up! I damn near KILL myself trying to get out of my jeans – my shank is like steel and it fights every attempt to get it out! Finally, it's out and I'm naked from the waist down and jacking it with one hand while I watch my bitch through the binoculars.
FUCK! She's LOOKING RIGHT AT ME! She can't SEE me – I KNOW that – but she's not looking at the computer – she's looking in my direction! Her mouth is moving, but I can't read lips – I have no idea what she's saying. A fantasy slides through my brain, but I dismiss it – I KNOW she thinks I'm a rapist! What's this all about?
It's uncanny! She's looking STRAIGHT AT ME, licking her lips and saying things! Her fingers are whipping along her slot; she's soaking wet and her clitty is as big and hard as I've ever seen it – she's making pussy-juice meringue, for God's sake! White foam! I'm fucking dying in seconds, watching her! It's like she kicked in the afterburner! As I watch, she jumps straight into the phase where she can't control her legs and starts bouncing and kicking – and then she arches and SQUIRTS – and she's not even using that dildo! I blow a nut all over the place, painting my window with cock cream! It scares me – I wonder if she can see it – but her head is thrown back and her mouth is open and she is cherry red clear down to her titties and for the first time since I trained my binoculars on her that evening she is NOT looking my way ... No, she's arched, her feet flat on the mattress, pumping her pussy up and down, looking for a cock! She's got two fingers in her hole, rubbing her inner lining in circles. It is without peer – her greatest performance ever! Was it really for me? Hurriedly, I snag a paper towel and wipe away the evidence, pissed that I have to cut off enjoying the aftermath of one of the finest orgasms I'd ever managed to milk out in order to cover my ass...
She flops back, spread wide, and strums her nipples with her fingers, still looking my way and talking. I wonder who she's talking to – I can't SEE anybody, but I'd be a damned fool to believe it was me, wouldn't I? After a little bit, she sighs and gets up and throws on a thin robe and leaves the room. I watch for a bit, wondering if there is a cop in the room looking to hunt me down by scanning windows in my building. I'm as paranoid as Hell, but I'd always stayed back in the shadows of my unlit room ... Cleaning up that gusher could have been a problem, I guess, but I didn't see anyone.
It's been three days. I'm absolutely beside myself! She's doing her two shows a night and they're just KILLER! And she does them all looking my way, not at her computer! I'm watching the eleven o'clock show, wondering what she'll do next to kick it up a notch; at the seven o'clock show, she stuck a finger up her ass and I painted the wall under my window white! FUCK! I had to go get some stuff to clean it with and Momma followed me back wanting to know what the fuck I'd done – and I KNOW she smelled cum! She wrinkled her nose and got out of my room and let me clean up the mess.