by Lulu Pratt
She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of the tiny, lacy panties she’s wearing and tugs them down over her hips. There’s no part of her I can’t see. She bends over, her back still to the window, not even aware of me sitting there watching her right across the yard. It’s all I can do not to run downstairs, dash across the yard, and break into the Polsens’ house to go up to her room and ask if she wants a little help.
The next moment, though, she’s not at the window anymore and I groan. She’s gone, and either she’s getting in the shower, or putting more clothes on again. The magic spell, for the time being, is over. But I can’t get the sight of her out of my head.
I try to turn my attention back onto the game, but the sight of Harper’s hot, firm ass plays through my mind. I figure if I wait it out long enough, my erection will go away. But the longer I play the computer the more certain I am that I’m going to have to take care of myself.
I turn off the PlayStation after a while and start stripping off my clothes. My cock is straining at the front of my boxers, and I can feel it throbbing. The only thing I can think about is the sight of Harper naked, only yards away from me. Before I know it I’m imagining what it would have been like if I’d followed through with my instinct to run over there.
I picture her looking at me in shock and that smile I saw her give me a few times during the day. She’s hesitant at first, but she moves closer to me, and I take my boxers off. I wrap my hand around my erect cock and stroke myself slowly, imagining it’s Harper’s hand instead of mine, that she’s touching me. No, no, she’d be hesitant at first. I smirk to myself.
I imagine Harper sinking to her knees and looking up at me, nervous but eager, and wrapping her lips around me. Taking the head first and then slowly sucking more of me into her mouth. My hand starts moving faster on my cock, and I tighten my grip as I think about her mouth on me, her hand at the base of my erection. I imagine her finding her rhythm and taking me gradually deeper and deeper, until she can’t anymore, and backing off a little bit.
My little fantasy deepens, and I look across the way, hoping to catch some sight of Harper, but she’s not back in the window, at least not that I can see. I imagine pulling her onto her feet, letting my hands wander over her body, teasing her while she moans and squirms from how hot and ready she is for me.
I imagine laying her down on her own bed, pinning her there, claiming her tits with my mouth, one after the other, stroking her soft skin, feeling her respond to my touch and then her hot, wet pussy. My hand starts moving faster on my dick as I think about thrusting into her, taking her all at once and feeling her hot, wet center clamp down on me. I groan, closing my eyes tighter and picturing her, imagining the sensation of her tighten around my cock, her hips moving to take me deeper.
I try to hold myself back as I get more and more into the little fantasy of Harper, but I can’t help feeling more and more turned on imagining having sex with her. She’s so hot and seeing her naked made it impossible not to think of what it would be like with her. Before I know it, I am right on the edge.
I groan out as I come, shooting off onto my abs. It hits me hard, harder than the last time I came with a woman even. I keep shooting off, barely able to contain it, until I’m shaking a little bit from the force of it all. I lean back in my chair panting and gasping.
When I look over at Harper’s window again, the lights are off. Whatever else she did after taking off her clothes, I certainly hadn’t seen it, and there wouldn’t be any more to see.
CHAPTER NINE
HARPER POLSEN
In spite of how tired I was when I finally got up to my room, I feel restless now lying in bed. I’d stripped off my clothes and thought about taking a shower, but settled instead for just cleaning the make-up off my face and brushing my teeth and hair.
My mind is spinning with everything that I have going on. I have the big project waiting for me back in the city. A major novel by a famous author, and I’m the one in charge of it. I’m the one whose name is going to appear as the editor. I’m the one who’s going to get listed in the acknowledgements.
But that’s not all that’s on my mind as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about Zane, and that fact, all on its own, is enough to drive me nuts. Of all the people in the whole world to catch the hots for, it has to be him? I think about the sight of him up on the ladder, tacking down the strings of lights for the party. I think about the lean muscle rippling under his skin, at his arms. The times his shirt rode up and I could see his abs.
I toss and turn in bed, not sure whether worrying about my first major book project or thinking about how hot Zane is is the worst thing. I turn over again and notice there’s light coming from the house next door. I realize that I left my curtains open — I’d changed just like I normally do in my apartment, but there the blinds are never open.
I tell myself that there’s no way that Zane saw me. He probably wasn’t even in his room yet, probably still downstairs talking to his parents or something. But I’m still naked, and I don’t want to risk being seen getting dressed in the morning, so because I’m not falling asleep anytime soon, I get up out of bed.
Before I can close my curtains, though, I see him. Zane, I hope, can’t see me, since I’ve turned the lights off in my room to try to get to sleep, but I can see him plain as day. He’s naked, and for a moment all I do is stand there and stare, he’s just as lean, just as muscular, as I had thought.
And then I notice what he’s doing. His hand is wrapped around his thick, fully hard cock. His eyes are closed, and I watch, fascinated, as he strokes himself steadily, his thumb and forefinger really working the tip. Heat washes through me and I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to be in the same room as someone else as much as I do right now.
Normally the idea of a guy jerking off doesn’t really appeal to me. It seems so crass, so gross in some way, but watching Zane work himself with his hand, I can almost hear him moaning and it makes me instantly wet.
I feel more than a little guilty watching him, but at the same time a little voice in the back of my mind asks the question, is he getting himself off because that’s a thing that guys do, or is it because he saw something? And if he saw me, is he getting himself off because he thought I was hot? As hot as I think he is right now?
Almost on their own, my hands start moving over my body. I imagine Zane’s hands instead of mine, tweaking my nipples and rolling them slowly, sending little tingling jolts of pleasure right to my pussy. I feel the tightness deep down between my hips, feel my muscles flexing and my knees feel wobbly in a way they haven’t in ages.
I pull a chair over to my window as quickly as I can and sit down, still watching Zane playing with himself in spite of how guilty I feel. “God, I’m sick,” I mutter to myself, even as one of my hands slips between my legs to start sliding along my folds. What would it even be like to have sex with him? I’d heard the usual rumors from girls at school. But that had been years ago, and besides, I never trusted rumors.
I imagine a stupid fantasy, something out of a bad porn, of going up to Zane’s room and asking him if he’d like a little help. Even as I shake my head at how corny the idea is, I’m pressing my fingers deeper, finding my clit by touch. Just the lightest brush of my fingertips against the little bead of nerves is enough to make me instantly hotter, instantly wetter, and I let the fantasy play out in my head without even questioning it.
Zane’s shocked to see me there naked, but he gets over it pretty quickly. After all, what guy wouldn’t? I imagine wrapping my fingers around his erection and starting slow, working up and down while I marvel at the girth of him, the length. I imagine Zane kissing me, dipping down to my breasts, claiming one and then the other with his lips and tongue even as he slips one hand between my legs to feel the warmth and wetness there.
I slide two fingers inside myself and press my lips together to smother the moan that rises in my throat. Zane’s fingers would be thicker, longer, p
robing me harder, but it’s good enough for now, especially with my thumb swirling around my pleasure center. Especially with the sight of Zane getting closer and closer to his own climax only feet away from me. I’m soaking wet, so slippery that suddenly it’s easy to think of how Zane’s cock would fit inside, no matter how tight I am.
I imagine Zane laying me down on his bed, kissing me again and then working his way down, down, until I’m trembling from how much I need him to get to the point already. In my mind, he buries his face against my pussy. I start working my fingers faster, spreading my legs wider as I imagine Zane worshipping me with his lips and tongue and his fingers. I can’t even really cover the moans leaving my throat anymore. The hand that isn’t working my clit cups and squeezes my breasts as Zane would, teasing my nipples as Zane would, making me even hotter.
I wish I had thought to bring my vibrator with me. But I’m stuck with just my hands as I imagine Zane finally pulling back and slithering up over my body to kiss me again, tasting a little bit like my own fluids. Then, oh God, I imagine him finally thrusting into me, inch by thick inch. I pull my fingers out completely and slowly sink them back inside myself, trying to duplicate the sensation, trying to imagine taking that thick, hard erection inside me.
By the time I finally hit climax, stars swimming in my vision, my whole body tensing and relaxing in little spasms of pleasure. I barely even realize that Zane has long since finished. The light is off over in his room, but I’m still stuck in my own little imaginary place. I keep myself going for as long as I can stand after the climax, but my clit is so sensitive, and my hand is wet from how hard I came. I sit in the chair a little while longer, catching my breath, letting my pulse slow, and stumble into my bathroom to wash my hands, to wipe myself off, before crawling back between the sheets to finally fall asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
ZANE LEWIS
“Why don’t you let Harper have control of the stereo for a while?” I look up from what I’m doing at the sound of my mother’s voice, cutting through Outkast playing over the speakers in the living room.
“Harper,” I call out.
She’s on the other end of the room, sorting through pictures for the slide show my parents want to play on the TV during the big party they’re throwing in a few days.
“You got a problem with what I’m playing on the system?”
“Nope,” Harper calls back, barely looking up from what she’s doing. Part of me is pleased, another part of me wants her to argue just for the sake of arguing. I can remember how she looks when she gets ticked off. After seeing her naked the night before, I want to see her ticked off again. I know before I go to bed tonight I’m going to be reliving the sight of her in nothing at all, and imagining her in my bed.
“Just give her your phone, Zane,” Mom insists. “Let Harper pick the songs for a bit.”
“We’re not in middle school anymore, Mom,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “If she wants to change the playlist she can say something.”
I’m putting together some piece of furniture that Mom got from IKEA to be a buffet or something for the big party. Mom and Nadine have been in the kitchen for a while, cleaning china or polishing silver, something like that. There are a million things to do around the house to get it ready for the party Mom and Dad want to throw.
“Just make sure you’re giving her equal time with the sound system,” Mom says, turning to leave before I can manage to argue again. I work on the weird piece of furniture for a few more minutes and take my phone out of my pocket.
“You want to put something else on?”
Harper looks up at my question from the pile of photos she’s organizing.
“If you’re bored, then sure,” Harper says, shrugging. She gets up and I watch her come to me. She’s wearing a skirt and a T-shirt. She took her shoes off when she came in, and her socks come up to just under her knees.
Does she have any fucking idea how much she looks like a schoolgirl gone bad right now? The skirt isn’t even plaid, and of course the T-shirt wouldn’t be in any school uniform, but the sight of her shapely legs, and knowing what she’s got underneath her clothes, is enough to make my mouth water and my cock respond.
I unlock my phone and hand it to her, turning back to building. The song playing over the stereo stops, and a moment later something else entirely, rock with heavy guitars and a crooning-shrieking vocalist, comes on. Harper does a little dance as she heads back to the table she’s been sitting at with the pictures. I grin to myself.
“I would have expected Katy Perry or someone like that,” I tell her, finishing one end of the piece of furniture I’m working on.
“Oh hell no,” Harper says. “Even when I was in high school, you should have known better.”
I laugh. “What were you listening to in high school?” I ask.
“Lots of old stuff,” Harper replies, not looking at me. “Old Strokes, Silverchair, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin that Dad played for me. Nirvana.”
After a while both our mothers come into the living room, and I see Nadine roll her eyes at the music. My mom’s pretty into it though, dancing with her bottle of water. I have to admit I’ve gotten into it a bit too.
“Did you tell Harper you’re up for reenlistment soon?”
Harper looks up at Mom’s question, and I see her cheeks go pink, but I have no idea why she’d be embarrassed.
“No, I’ve been trying to keep that close to the vest,” I tell her.
“You told your father and me, why not the Polsens?”
“I just don’t really want to talk about it with anyone yet,” I say, moving the finished behemoth of particle board and enamel over to the wall where it’s going to be for the big party. It actually looks pretty good with everything else in the room.
“Why not? I think it’s a good thing to talk about,” Mom says. She reaches for the control and turns down the music just a little bit, enough to where we don’t have to practically shout to hear each other, and Nadine sits down with her.
“If I never see another piece of wedding china or wedding silver again, it will be too soon,” Nadine informs us all. “Your mother,” she says to me with a smile, “apparently opted for the most over-the-top set that money could buy.”
“I thought I was going to have great dinner parties and luncheons,” Mom says, sighing. “Little did I realize that without a personal chef and a housekeeper, events like that are more trouble than they’re worth.”
“So, Zane, you’re thinking of going back in when your tour of duty is up?”
I’d been hoping that Nadine had changed the subject for good, but there she was, reminding me of something I didn’t really want to talk about.
“I’m thinking about it,” I admit. “I haven’t come to any kind of conclusion yet.”
“Harper’s got some top-secret project going on at her job,” Nadine offers. “Tell them about it, sweetie.”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about it,” Harper says. She picks up a box of pictures that she’d marked ‘slideshow’ and brings them to the couch. “But I can tell you a few things.”
“Top-secret project? Tell me you’re ghostwriting some congressman’s mistress’ memoirs or something,” Mom says.
Harper laughs. Another song comes on, and this one I actually recognize, Foo Fighters’ “Everlong.”
“There’s a major author, whose name I can’t disclose because of confidentiality,” Harper explains, “who’s been writing books for our publishing company for a while now.”
“Can we guess the name and you tell us if it’s the right one or not?” my mom asks with a smile.
Harper laughs again. “I could get in trouble for that,” she says. “But anyway, he’s been writing for us for a long time, and the editor he started out working with recently retired, so they’ve assigned me to be his new editor for the next book.”
“Congrats,” I say, wondering again why Harper’s started blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about
?
“It’s a big deal,” Nadine says. “We’re all really proud of her.”
“Well of course you are!” Mom adds. “That is awesome! My surrogate daughter is going to have a major book come out with her name in it.”
“I won’t be on the cover,” Harper admits. “I mean, I’ll be named in the acknowledgements and all that. The credits, that kind of thing.”
“As soon as you can tell us who it is, and the name of the book, you’d better,” Mom tells her. She starts looking through the pictures Harper has chosen, and Nadine pulls Harper to sit down next to her.
I catch, maybe, half a second’s glimpse of Harper’s panties, another lacy-frilly set like the ones she was in the night before. It’s all I can do to not react.
“Do you get any kind of royalties for it?” I ask.
Harper shrugs. “It depends,” she says. “We haven’t really worked out those details yet, since the author in question only just accepted me to work on his book.”
“Does it come with a pay increase at least?” Zane asks.
Harper shrugs again. “Like I said, there are a lot of details to work out,” she continues. “But if I do well on this, then I’ll probably be promoted to a main editor, which would mean more and bigger projects.”
“Both our kids are doing well in their careers, how about that?” Mom says, gesturing from me to Harper. “And both of them came out looking gorgeous. Figure the odds on that one.”
Harper and I grin at each other, rolling our eyes. I need to find something else to do before I suggest to Harper that we go somewhere more private.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HARPER POLSEN
I look up at the sky from the hammock my parents installed sometime after my last visit, enjoying the sun and the breeze. Zane, my mom and I have been helping with projects around the Lewises’ house to get ready for the big anniversary party in a couple of days, and since the stuff that needs to be done today is best done by professionals, I actually have some time free to just chill out.
