Cleo's Fantasies Ch. 02

**Tanner

Remo Tanner looked down at the house in the dark, bored and without genuine interest, yet still hoping to catch a glimpse of anything interesting.

Just as he was about to turn away, a light came on in one of the bedroom windows on the top floor, and his neighbor entered the room, wrapped in just a bath towel.

The physical reaction he experienced at that moment surprised him in its sheer ferocity for days afterward. Within a second, he was wide awake, his heart beating like crazy, and his throat suddenly dry. He opened his mouth to breathe quietly or see better; he didn't know which himself.

When the woman put the towel down on the bed with indifference, he froze at the erotic sight. He couldn't move, not even if he had wanted to, as a veritable paralysis had seized him. He directed all his senses toward this unexpected scene.

He watched her hands glide over her body. Although the woman smeared the lotion somewhat mechanically on her body, Tanner absorbed every little detail with unbelievable excitement.

Her naked body.

He was trembling, no longer in control of his body. This woman was so gorgeous, and her flowing movements enchanted him. He stared and squinted, regretting not having binoculars.

Slowly, his hand wandered to his painfully erect penis, rubbing it through his old workout pants. He marveled at how unusually quickly his member had sprung to life, already throbbing.

His wide-open eyes followed his neighbor's every move as her hands slid from her feet to her knees, then higher and higher.

He refused to blink. With an intensity that was otherwise not his own, he tried to memorize every detail of the scene he looked at. His underpants prevented his bulging, uncomfortably bent cock from rising fully. Without another thought, he violently grabbed the drawstring of his pants to loosen it and create more space. But that's when it happened: he had moved the curtain!

Even though it was only a tiny movement, his beautiful naked neighbor instantly glanced up at his window. In that exact instant, he jumped back. However, it was too late; he was almost certain she had seen him.

Or hadn't she?

Trembling with excitement and embarrassment, he dared to look down again after a while. But she was gone, and the shutters were down.

Damn!

Disappointment overcame him, just as brutally as the excitement had before. It seized his entire being, tightening his throat. He couldn't believe his stupidity and was incredibly annoyed about his clumsiness. He ruffled his unkempt hair and almost started crying.

How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn't he prepared himself better for such a moment? What else could he have observed if it wasn't for his clumsy move? Question upon question rushed through his mind. He breathed heavily with disappointment, and his mood deteriorated even further.

When Tanner -- everyone only ever called him by his last name -- had moved into the small office many years ago, he had immediately realized that from his office window, he could see directly into the apartments of the neighboring building. At the same time, trees completely obscured the view from and to the lower floors.

But for years, all the shutters had been closed in the evenings. But even if not, the residents had been ugly and old, so a closer look would not have been worthwhile.

But then, last year, the apartments in the block below had been renovated, and some tenants had moved out, some somewhat involuntarily. He had hoped his luck would turn around and an attractive woman would finally move in. After all, his voyeurism had only occurred on the Internet so far, and he craved the real thing.

And sure enough, this pretty doctor moved in with her two daughters, one of them a young, crisp beauty, the other a bit chubbier but still promising for the future. He could hardly believe his luck and was highly excited whenever he observed the house. But no matter how hard he had tried and been peeping for weeks, he didn't even see a glimpse of them during the day, and the damn shutters were down at night.

The disappointment and frustration hit him hard, and his already foul mood worsened. Even though he would look down every day, time after time, he gave up, frustrated after a while. Nothing exciting had happened for months, nothing at all.

And now the moment had come, after all this time, the moment he had so frequently imagined and hoped for.

And he had fucked it up.

Even though he didn't know it yet, this evening would turn out to be one of the most fundamental moments of his life. Even in his wildest fantasies, he could not have imagined his upcoming metamorphosis.

-***-

For what felt like a lifetime, he had hoped for such an opportunity, lamenting why it couldn't be him to observe what he had read on the Internet. Nothing good ever seemed to happen in his life. And now, just when his wishes seemed to come true and reality seemed to surpass his highest hopes and fantasies, he had utterly blown it.

From his point of view, it was just his shitty life, and for days he was annoyed, downright devastated, and unable to concentrate and work sensibly.

But the idea that the doctor might complain about him to his neighbors - or even worse, complain about him, the Peeping Tom, to his wife - drove him crazy.

It took several days, needing reassurance that none of his fears had yet come to pass, for him to slowly begin to appreciate what he had seen, to realize that he had not been miserably unlucky but rather incredibly fortunate.

He began to enjoy the memories more and more and fantasized about Cleo - at this point, he didn't know her first name yet. His recollection changed over time, and he added more and more elements from his imagination to the memory. It excited him incredibly, and the fantasy soon dominated his whole day, not to mention the nights.

But at the same time, he was increasingly afraid that it would remain a unique experience: it seemed impossible that she would be so forgetful and not close the shutter again.

Or had he just imagined that she had seen him?

As if in defiance and with a tiny bit of hope, every evening, he carefully crept to his window and knelt very slowly before stretching out breathlessly, tensely, hiding behind the curtain, and looking down. But the shutter stayed down, and he cursed himself for his clumsiness, every day anew.

About three weeks after the voyeuristic experience, now at the center of all his fantasies, he met her on the street. The moment her gaze met his, he was overcome with such a violent rush of guilt that he had to avoid her eyes and, without thinking, abruptly changed sides of the street to escape her. He only stopped when he was sure she could no longer see him.

His behavior was almost more embarrassing to him than the fact that she might have known he had been watching her. He must have looked like an absolute failure to her. He nodded, involuntarily agreeing, and sighed before trotting back to the safety and seclusion of his office, frustrated and sad.

For hours after that encounter, he had been unable to think of anything else, of her gaze and his cowardice - but his desire to check out her window again became almost overwhelming at the same time. By mid-afternoon, he had regained enough of his composure to look down cautiously, wondering how he could check the window at all times in case those damn shutters went up.

He moved the floor lamp closer to the window and hoped he could kinda hide behind it. When it finally dawned, he checked again, and to his surprise, his luck had changed: she had accidentally not wholly closed the shutters! Now, he couldn't see much of the room, it was already quite dark, but at least he could see the lowest part of the bed.

Excited, he forced himself to kneel to avoid being seen again. When the light came on in her room, he felt that incredible excitement again. Breathless and spellbound, he saw a bra lying on the bed, and his imagination ran away with him. Oh, how he would have loved to get her to show herself, undress before him, or even caress herself.

Waiting, he imagined again how he`d give her instructions that she followed quite unwillingly, but even so, she did as he ordered, hesitantly but soon even somewhat lustfully. He regularly lost his cool because of these thoughts, gripping his rigid cock fiercely and having to stroke it almost compulsively. He then only lasted a few more seconds before shooting his load into a Kleenex.

But now he was utterly fixated on the window, not allowing himself any movement and ignoring the burning in his legs - kneeling was unbearable in the long run, and he would have to think of a solution as soon as possible.

Then, she appeared, wrapped only in a towel again. She stopped before the bed. He could only see her from her knees to about just above her butt, but when she put the towel away, and he caught sight of her bare bottom, he held his breath, amazed. The view resulted in a massive surge of happiness and excitement, just as he had felt the first time.

Seconds later, however, she was gone again, and the light went out. Happy and disappointed at once, he carefully crawled back, stood up, and plopped in his chair. His heart was still beating hard.

His hand habitually slid into his faded old workout pants. He massaged his cock and closed his eyes, annoyed that he couldn't relive this new, albeit slightly shorter, moment of happiness at will.

He tore his eyes open, and it was obvious what to do: he would buy a camera as soon as possible. Minutes later, further aroused by this thought, the hot sperm shot onto his belly, and he tried hard not to stain his formerly white shirt any further.