Silent Solitude

Sweet Wicked Little Thing

A-

I step outside. My naked feet feeling every bit of the cool, cold floor of my balcony. My arms and my torso bare. Feeling the cold, cold breeze of the late afternoon. My breasts bearing the chill of this time of the night and my nipples pebbling due to this sensation. Goosebumps raised on my body, my skin is sensitised.

There he is.

Standing in his usual demeanour, he is there. Standing on his side of the place; the balcony of his house. His silk-like brown hair, raised sexily above his head and have a just-fucked look about them. His suit shirt fitting him right; his taut muscles straining against them. I can see it when he flexes his muscles to raise his arm and places those sexy as sin fingers on those lips. That mouth. His grey slacks accentuating those hips. That prize.

He grins devilishly at me. Smugly smirks, which makes that pouty lower lip of him curl sweetly, but flashes those wicked, depraved promises in his cold grey eyes. Which I'm sure are formidable and dangerous if you ever stand a chance to be anywhere near him. He lazily takes that dark charcoal tie of his off, tugging at it with his strong fingers and unbuttons top two buttons. All the while I'm chill as fuck. Makes my nipples hard to the point of pain.

It takes my breath away.

I cross my arms over my chest to provide myself some kind of warmth. It's not worth it. The looks of disapproval are enough for me to change that; when he raises those big displeased grey eyes in my direction, boring into mine, the intensity melting my blue ones.

I do it then.

I back up a little against my cold glass floor-to-ceilling window. I can see him falter for a split second. Patience, boy! Raising my forearms up till my head, I lean my head backwards which pushes my breasts upwards and out. For his show. I moan quietly. I then lift my two sticky fingers and agonisingly slow, trace my skin over my neck. Spreading the sweet-smelling honey over my skin. Collarbone to my chest. They hover over my naked breasts; I travel them across my hard nipples. Coating them in the sugary thick liquid; laving them. Suddenly, I pinch them.

Oh. The sensation is sharp but delicious.

He swallows hard. His eyes are permanently glued to the erotic display infront of him, making him disable and paralysed to any motion or coherent thought.

I don't stop it. I rake my fingers further down, between my ribs, down my stomach, circling my belly button.

Ohhh, his breathing is labored.

I fingers reach my mound.

The promised land between my legs.

C-

She keeps on lowering those fingers of hers, playing with herself. Playing with me. My control. My sanity. My patience. Her fingers hover over that clean-shaven pussy of hers barely for a second, before she halts it and stops her movements altogether.

As if she doesn't know what she's playing at...?

Promising me something and then taking it all away from me.

She's lucky she ain't within my reach, or else she would've been already slapped hard across that sweet, angel-like face of hers. Devil behind that sweet facade... Putting that smart-mouth to good use. Using that disobedient body for fucking her hard and fast.

I halt in my senses just then.

I'm hard in my trousers.

She does this everyday. Living across the opposite lane from me, it gives us a perfect opportunity for us to show and tell. For some visual fun. But no one ever dared to reach across the other one.
She comes out, stands in her balcony every night. Giving me a show. Leading me on. Promising me. Tantalizing me.