You don’t know me but I was told to contact you. I was told, no, commanded to tell you my story. I have to tell you about the man I know as Mr. Boxers.
I don’t remember when exactly I started to spy on the man in the apartment building across from mine. I think it may have been a night when nothing was on television but I do know that it was on a Friday night. It is depressing enough being a single woman in Atlanta but being dateless on Friday night is just plain sad. Friday night is when he brings over his girlfriends.
My neighbor, who I call Mr. Boxers because he always strips down to the black boxers that he wears, was entertaining one of his girlfriends. He entertains a lot of women in his apartment and rarely the same woman twice in a row. Anyway, Mr. Boxers doesn’t exactly have dates at his apartment. No, when women come to his place, they always strip out of all of their clothes first. He stands there in his boxers, and well, he does these things to them.
What kind of things? Kinky naughty things. He spanks a lot of them. Mr. Boxers’ chair is set up so that the side is facing the patio door that I seem him through. He puts the women over his lap so that their bare bottoms are facing the window.
I watch as he spanks them. He spanks them till they thrash in his lap. He spanks them till their asses turn a bright red. That is not all he does while they across his lap. Mr. Boxers sticks his fingers in them; right into their pussy. He fingers them and when he does that, they thrash even more.
Sometimes he fucks them right there against the chair. Sometimes he sits in the chair while they are between his legs on the floor. I can tell by the way their head moves that they are sucking him. A lot of times they will stand in front of him and masturbate as Mr. Boxers watches.
I do remember exactly when I started masturbating while watching him. He had a woman over that was closer to my size than the usual thin women he entertained. This woman had my curves. She had curly black hair and hips as big as mine.
She could have been me.
My hands went straight into my pants. I settled into my place. Over the weeks, I had learned to turn off the lights and disappear into the darkness of my living room. I had a small comforter folded on the floor with a pillow to lean against my couch. Until now, I used my hiding place to watch in secret at the perversions happening at the apartment building across from me. I saved the masturbating for later.
Not that night. This big girl became my surrogate. I stroked furiously at my wet pussy, anticipating what was about to happen to her. I was imagining that it would happen to me.
He groped her. Oh God, it was hot. As she stood there, he walked around her and had his hands all over her. As he cupped her tits, I squeezed mine. When he slapped her ass, I winced from the imagined pain. When he grabbed her by the throat and kissed her neck, I shivered from head to toe.
He fingered her pussy as she stood there. I came before she did.
He dragged her to the chair and put her over his lap. He spanked her and I came again.
He made her get on the ground on all fours. She faced the window. Even at this distance I could see the lust on her face. He fucked her from behind.
I came and came and came.
After that night, I made better preparations. For one thing, I lay a towel on top of my comforter first because I soaked the shit out of it. I also got a pair of binoculars; one light enough for me to hold with one hand. I didn’t want to miss anything.
I didn’t need a date on Friday nights anymore. I had Mr. Boxers. As his women enjoyed his touch, I enjoyed them both. I didn’t care about being single. I had a dirty secret and a very wet pussy. It wasn’t perfect but it was pretty fantastic.
Then last week Mr. Boxers saw me.
I am not sure how. Mr. Boxers was spanking a tiny blonde woman when he glanced towards me. His head stopped and he stared at me. I froze in mid-stroke. How could he have possibly seen me?
He went back to spanking the woman. I went back to masturbating. I came while she sucked his cock.
After she left, Mr. Boxers went to the patio door. His cock was still exposed. He held up a piece of paper. With my binoculars, I could read what he had written. It was his phone number.
My heart beat so fast that I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I couldn’t think. I could obey though. I reached for my phone and dialed the number.
“How long have you been watching?” he asked. No Hello, no demands to know who I was.
“It’s been a few months,” I said.
“Next week you will be here,” he said. “8 o’clock. Apartment number 423.”
“Yes,” I said.
Then he gave me your e-mail. Mr. Boxers told me to tell my story to you. I don’t know why. I don’t know who you are. I wonder if you are another of his women, and whether you will be there next Friday as well. Does he want me to watch from a closer position?
Of course, you could be another man. Maybe you will be there and he will set us up. Maybe you will be the witness while he does dirty things to me. Maybe Mr. Boxer will watch as you do things to me.
I can’t wait to find out.