Only the image of her bobbing head

After living in this apartment for three years, I had become accustomed to all the sounds and frequent sights of my neighborhood. I heard gay men having sex, seen the vague silhouette of people fucking, two girls making out and then going down on each other, and a memorable time when another girl shoved her boyfriend’s hand up her shorts, and then upon pulling his sticky fingers out ­she thrust them into her mouth.

Once again the world had granted me a grand, explicit performance.

After spotting my sexy neighbor’s bobbing head through the window, ­I immediately froze. My first thought was that I should turn off the lights,­ because I wanted to see this one. Stunned and naked and swirling with heat, I crept to the couch – lightheaded, all the blood in my body settling at my midsection. Without even looking down, I was hard and moreover, throbbing.

Nearly-paralyzed, I fell into the cushions. My pulsating cock like a sailing mast, waving in the placid winds before the tempest.

Without thinking, I began to stroke my cock in unison with the bobbing head across the way. It was not civilized in any way, but it felt so good. Nothing was going through my head except the image of her bobbing head, her glistening mouth, her darting tongue. Instead I felt a tingling in that primal core, deep inside me - thoughts being controlled entirely between my pelvis …