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Peeping George
© 2002 by Jude Mason

Forty-five if she was a day, but well preserved he thought, as he took in the expanse of flesh before it disappeared into the water.  Jane was a bit on the short side, five-three maybe.  She had more curves than was fashionable, but man; he'd love to get hold of her.  Her boobs jiggled and swayed as she crossed the thirty or so feet from the back door to the pool's edge, the slight swell of her belly and that gorgeous triangle of hair he'd never seen before.  A few stretch marks marred the lower sides of her stomach, but only seemed to enhance her beauty in his eyes.  The last three or four steps she took at a run, then dove gracefully, beautifully arrow straight and without a ripple, she was immersed in the clear water.

"Oh my!" He managed, and felt the familiar tightness and warmth begin in his groin.  George, at almost fifty-one, was still very much a vital, sexual man.  But as a widower, he'd been deprived of companionship for months.  His hand seemed to have a mind of its own and he quickly found himself tugging the growing length of his cock into the open.  The loose shorts he'd had on fell to the floor.  He stepped out of them and stood naked in front of his sliding glass door.

He watched transfixed, as Jane, gloriously nude, swam her laps.  Her flesh glistened wetly in the sun, muscles played against each other in the ripples created by her swift passing.  A length of back stroke changed sinuously into a breast stroke on her turn.  Back and forth, not twenty feet from him, she surged through the sparkling clear water.  When she got into rhythm, her legs flashed and her bottom wobbled from side to side, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

George slowly stroked himself, his excitement growing as he let his imagination take over.  He'd pretend he hadn't seen her and just walk out to retrieve something he'd left outside, offering a view of his rapidly growing cock.  Or he'd take his place in his lounge chair and lay there, pretending sleep behind dark glasses, all the while watching her.  Wanting her.  Feigning sleep where he could innocently stroke himself for the pleasure of them both.  Instead he watched and ached for her, wanted her.  The widow next door.

"Foolish old man," he chided himself, but didn't stop looking, or masturbating.  His passion wasn't as quick to rise as when he was younger, but no matter, the enjoyment was equal or better than when he was twenty.  Cupping his testicles, he felt their weight, and tugged on first one ball then the other.  The skin along his shaft felt tight, he growled low in his throat as he climbed higher.  His knees began to tremble, but he stayed where he was; not wanting to miss one second of her show.

"Come on out sweetheart, George wants to see you again," he murmured to no one, to her, but mostly to himself.  His hand sped up just a little at the thought of her climbing out.  Facing or away, no matter, he loved all the parts of a woman.

As if she'd heard him, she slowed then stopped, took hold of the side of the pool.  The laps had winded her and he watched as her breasts bobbed on the top of the water, her nipples dark and shiny in the sun.  Lying back, she let her head rest in the water, hair fanned out, framing her face, her breasts lifted slightly.

"Oh god, woman, you're gorgeous." He tightened his fist around himself, at the base of his fully distended and throbbing cock, wanting to prolong the pleasure a bit longer.  The palm of the other hand slid across his glans, and he felt it to his toes.  His balls churned and moved up in their sack, tensing, preparing to discharge the load they stored.  With the tips of his fingers he teased the glans, with the other he began the slow pumping that he loved so much.  His hips moved in unison and his heart raced.

"Come on baby, show old George," he whispered reverently.

Jane swam one final lap, on her back and to George's amazement, her hands moved over those generous curves he loved so much.  She drifted slowly and cupped her breasts skyward, as if offering them to some unseen being.  The nipples looked pebble hard and she tweaked them each and pulled on them hard.

"Oh yeah, that's it sweetheart," his voice was harsh with excitement.  Pre-cum dribbled down his shaft and he used it to lubricate his cock.  When her fingers strayed between her thighs, it proved too much for him and he felt the cum climbing up his shaft, then exploding over his fingers.  Pulsing and pumping his hand in just the right way, he surged over the brink, he groaned in pure pleasure, his cream splattering the glass at the second spasm.  His buttocks tightened and his entire body tensed.  Each spurt was less, but the climax was wonderful, it had been too long since he'd last sought release.

Finally, remembering to breathe, his vision cleared just in time to see Jane pull herself out of the pool.  She was directly in front of him, facing his doors and her face shone.  Smiling, seeing him and smiling.  He blushed, but continued to stroke the softening length of flesh between his thighs.

Without so much as a word, Jane nodded at him then walked slowly towards her house.  The sway of her ass drew his eyes after her.  The knowledge that she'd seen him had his heart racing once again.

He'd call her; they'd get together for lunch.  Hell, he thought, maybe he'd get lucky.  Visions of them together crossed his mind.

The phone rang.

© 2002 Jude Mason. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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