Watching Me, Watching You

by Gwennan Thomas

  ‘I’m in your bed because I would really like you to fuck me,’ Jen finally replies. ‘I have always wanted you to fuck me, ever since I first met you.’

  I gasp, silently. We hadn’t actually rehearsed this bit – the words that she is saying are all new to me. Has she really wanted him to fuck her since she first met him? I have no idea.

  ‘Jen,’ he sighs, and I know that he is lost, that there is no turning back now.

  The hand resting on her bottom inches the fabric of my nightie up – now it’s touching the bare skin of her cheek. I imagine he’s working the lace of her thong to one side, that his fingers will be brushing against her pussy lips, and it turns me on so much that I have to touch myself.

  I trail my fingers between my thighs, then slide first one finger and then a second inside. I pinch myself, gently at first, building up the pressure, as I watch Mike grab hold of Jen and roll her onto her front. He hauls her onto her knees, he splays her legs and then he enters her from behind and I have to shove the fingers of my free hand into my mouth to stop the two of them from hearing my pleasure. My only regret, as Mike thrusts into Jen, is the view. I can see his bare arse, can hear the sound of his balls slapping against her, but I can’t see her.

  It doesn’t take long until Mike grunts. Then he sits back and catches his breath. I won’t be surprised if he scratches his head in puzzlement next. Maybe he thinks he’s dreaming. I wonder if I am? He collapses down onto the bed next to Jen. She has rolled onto her side and he puts his arm around her.

  ‘I can’t stay here,’ she tells him. ‘In case Sally does come back through.’

  ‘Yeah … sure,’ is his reply.

  He sounds half-asleep already. I watch as Jen gets out of the bed. I think my husband quite a fool to let her slip away so quickly. I wonder if he has satisfied her – she was quiet throughout. I step backwards from the shadows.

  ‘Jen?’

  She joins me on the landing. My nightie is flimsy, and I can see her nipples poking hard against the silk. I wonder if she is cold or turned on. I wonder if her flushed face is the afterglow of an orgasm?

  I catch hold of her hand and ask her, ‘Are you OK?’

  She nods. She looks bewildered.

  ‘Jen, can we do this again?’ I ask, because I know that tonight wasn’t enough.

  We have a new plan. Two weeks have passed since my husband had sex with my best friend. Jen tells me that Mike has texted her several times. Asked her if what happened really happened. Told her he was glad that it had, but I was never to find out. She says her replies were just words of reassurance, that she wouldn’t be telling me, but she was glad it had happened too.

  I ask her to send a message, suggesting they should do it again. He says yes, they have to. That he wants it more than anything.

  I have to try hard not to feel a little offended by that – what wife wouldn’t? But luckily for Mike, I also want it to happen again, at least as much as he does.

  Jen and I choose another Friday night. Mike leaves for the pub, giving me a kiss on the cheek and Jen a lingering look. She and I put Sarah and Ty to bed, then open a bottle of wine. We watch an X-rated DVD to put us in the mood for what we hope will happen later. Now we both want it more than ever.

  ‘Last time, did he make you come?’ I finally ask, though I don’t look at her.

  ‘Very nearly,’ she replies.

  ‘Me too,’ I whisper.

  It’s half-past ten and Jen sends Mike a text to say that I’ve gone bed, that I’m not feeling very well, and maybe he should come back and take advantage of the situation? In truth, I am feeling perfectly fine. I hide out in the front room, a room that would be the dining room, if we ever got around to eating at the table.

  Jen is waiting for him in the living room which opens on to the kitchen. We have pushed an armchair in front of the door to the stairs, mainly in case either child should wake and come wandering down, but also to keep me from appearing, so Jen is going to tell Mike. On hearing this, he tells her she is full of good ideas.

  The scene has been set for their illicit act. The main lights are off and the room is softly illuminated by candles – candles scented with opium and amber. Norah Jones sings softly from the stereo.

  ‘Jen?’ Mike questions her. ‘Is this what you want?’

  ‘More than ever,’ she replies.

  I don’t want to miss a thing, but I have missed that first lunge, for as I sneak in from the front room, my breath caught, they’re already kissing. I’ve told Jen to keep him by the sofa so that I can hide by the second armchair. I think, maybe as I watch Mike kissing Jen, that I could march boldly into the room and he wouldn’t notice – at least I think he wouldn’t. And even if he did, I guess he wouldn’t care enough to let it stop him doing what he’s doing, because my husband is lost in passion.

  His kissing is noisy, as is his breathing. He pulls Jen’s jumper off over her head and he unclips her bra. She has gorgeous tits, smaller than mine, but firmer, with darker nipples. She’s looking at me, over his shoulder, as Mike leans in to kiss them. She runs her fingers through his hair and winks at me, mouth part-open as she gasps and groans.

  I could, if I touched myself, come there and then.

  ‘Hey, tiger, slow down!’ she chides him.

  ‘She could walk in on us at any moment,’ he replies.

  ‘The doorway is blocked,’ Jen returns in a whisper. ‘Let’s enjoy this, not rush it. We don’t know when we’ll be able to do it again.’

  He pulls back from her, peels his own shirt off, and I look at the cobra tattoo that snakes over his shoulder and down his back. The times I’ve followed that ink with my tongue, gently kissing and biting him … She turns him, as I have asked her to, so I can see them both in profile.

  ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he tells her.

  I nod in silent agreement. Jen’s breasts may be smaller than mine but so is her whole physique. Her body is more toned, her stomach flatter, and as her skirt drops to the floor, I see that her legs are more delicate, that her bottom lifts higher than mine. She is my focus, not Mike, who I can see naked any time I like.

  ‘Ohh, baby …’ he groans, as Jen drops to her knees and pulls down his jeans.

  I know that Mike will think all his Christmases have come at once, that I’ll never be able to get him anything for Christmas ever again that will compare to this.

  I’m not a huge fan of oral sex. I mentioned that to Jen and she told me it was all about position and that I must be doing it wrong. Now I watch her take Mike in her mouth, as she gently rubs his length with one hand. I mimic the movement, rubbing myself at the same speed. Mike lasts longer than I do. I squirm in my knickers, pressing my fingers against the nub of my clit as I come to a silent, but shattering orgasm.

  ‘I can’t … take … much … more …’

  ‘Shh …’ Jen silences his protest, licking the glistening tip of his cock. ‘Come all over my tits.’ She aims it at her breasts, works him harder for just five or six more rubs and then he grunts and squirts, and I watch, and I feel like I’m going to come again.

  She smiles up at him. He drops down onto his knees.

  ‘Look at the mess you’re in!’ he says.

  She draws him in close, wraps her arms around the back of his neck and pushes her breasts against his chest. Then they kiss again, as Mike gently lays her down on the carpet. He pulls her legs out from under her, pushes her knees up. ‘Lick. Me. Out,’ she says.

  I watch, wait for his reaction. I’m not the only one who’s not really into oral. I can count on one hand the amount of times that Mike has gone down on me. I wonder what he’ll do? I don’t have to wonder for long. He has Jen’s knickers off and is lying on the carpet, pulling her legs apart with his hands, nestling his face into her pussy before I can even catch a breath.

  From here, I can’t really see them that well, so I stand up and peer from the back of the chair. I inch further around, my fingers actually crossing that I don’t disturb Mike. I don’t
want to spoil this moment. The new view is body-tingling fantastic. Mike is using his fingers to hold Jen open. He has told her to arch her back and he is licking her and slurping up her juices like a very thirsty man. I don’t know which thought is turning me on more – the desire to be the licker or the licked. All I know is that the sight of my Mike feeding on my best friend’s pussy is driving me insane with desire, and this time I slip three fingers inside myself, and I come again as Jen buckles.

  ‘Good?’ Mike questions.

  Jen’s eyes are closed.

  My breath is caught.

  ‘Now I’m going to fuck you.’

  I gasp, then cover my hand with my mouth.

  Mike moves his head, but Jen grabs him and kisses him. He is easily distracted by her, so whatever he thought he heard doesn’t bother him for long.

  I suck my fingers, salty from my pussy. I imagine it’s the flavour of Jen that Mike has just been relishing, but now he’s going to experience his cock in her pussy again.

  ‘Stand up,’ he tells her. ‘Bend over.’

  Jen shakes her head. ‘No. I want you to do it while looking at me. Looking me in the eye.’

  He runs his hands over her body, down over her hips. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yep.’ She pushes him towards the sofa, pushes him down onto it and then she straddles him.

  He folds his arms behind his head, looks every inch the man who is about to receive absolute pleasure. I feel inside my pocket for the vibrator I’ve stashed there, pull it out and flick the switch to on. Although it’s designed to be totally silent, it’s pulsating crazily in my hand. When Jen holds Mike’s cock in place and slips herself down onto it, I insert my silicone friend.

  As Jen starts to increase her rhythm, I thrust my sex toy in and out of my pussy. She leans over Mike, presses down on his shoulders. He unfolds his arms and reaches around her, grasps her bottom. Now Jen is really enjoying herself. It starts with soft whimpers, then longer, more laboured gasps. I know my Mike is a man who can last a long time when he wants to. He is very dependable like that, and I guess that makes me a lucky woman. But it’s Jen who is lucky now. She has slowed down, but beneath her he is taking charge. He moves his hands down on to her hips, then pulls her feet towards him. She lies back along his legs, then he withdraws his cock and uses the head of it to tickle and tease her pussy lips.

  ‘Put it back inside me!’ Jen groans.

  ‘I like it like this,’ Mike replies. ‘I can see every twitch, every single movement.’

  I groan along with Jen. I have removed my vibrator and use it to tease myself as Mike’s teasing her. Then he pushes himself inside her, angling his cock for deep, deep penetration. I shove my vibrator back in as far as it will go, and I come as Jen does. She calls out Mike’s name, grabs hold of his legs and cries with pleasure.

  I collapse back behind the armchair.

  ‘We’ll have to do this again,’ Mike says.

  ‘Oh, yes, we will,’ I reply silently, my body pulsing in the afterglow of what has been the best sex I have ever had. We most definitely will be doing this again.

  The Watcher

  by Catelyn Cash

  I drift.

  It’s what I do.

  This night, with newly awakened consciousness, I find myself on a darkened street. Parked cars, stone houses with well-kept gardens, pale light from street lamps, a distant, barking dog. I flex slowly, taking in my surroundings, placing myself in time, in space. No real reason. Habit, I suppose. That all-too-human urge to know: where; when; what; why?

  Except, of course, I am not human.

  A couple walk towards me and I still as their laughing, clinging humanity draws me in. I smell alcohol, perfume, cigarette smoke. A thrill passes through me and I am pulled towards their warmth and solidity. The woman is pretty, curvier than was in fashion when I was last here. I like curves. With no body of my own, lushness, softness, pliancy are magnets to my starved senses, and my excitement soars. To inhabit this woman, to be absorbed into her flesh and live within her for one night. Yesss.

  I glance at her companion and slam on the brakes.

  I have all night. There is no rush.

  Stockily built, his head seems to rest on his shoulders and he carries a faint scent as though he hasn’t showered. After so long in the darkness, my need is strong and I almost persist but something holds me back. A Watcher must have some standards. Are cleanliness and a neck too much to ask? I swirl impatiently as they pass and turn my attention to the houses.

  The first I come to is not promising. Garden, neat to the point of obsession, filled with tubs and ornaments. Gnomes? I recoil as I recognise the image. I once attended a gnome sex party. You don’t want to know what went on there. Really, you don’t.

  The brass knocker and letterbox are polished to perfection. The curtains tightly closed to keep out the night. They will not keep me out but I have no desire to enter as I already know what I will find. An elderly couple, drinking cocoa and watching TV. While it’s always good to catch a rerun of Inspector Morse, there are other, more pressing needs to attend to.

  I look along the street and anticipation shimmers through me. How many people are in these houses, pleasuring themselves and each other? Soon to be sharing their pleasure with me.

  I glide through a few gardens until I feel the energy change. I stop. Young people inhabit this house, vibrant, noisy, full of life. A quick glance around the garden confirms this. A box of empty beer bottles left over from a party. Fag ends tossed in a barren rockery. An old bicycle lock still attached to a drainpipe, bike long gone. I smile. Students? My favourite kind of people. So full of energy.

  Wasting no time, I float up to the bedroom window. Curtains pulled together but not closed, so easy enough to see in. A young woman on the bed. She is fully dressed but her hand is inside her jeans, moving rhythmically, and I am glad I didn’t follow Shrek and his girlfriend home.

  Without being aware, the woman on the bed pulls me towards her and I glide through the window. Her eyes are closed, her face soft, lost in private pleasure as her hand works busily. One foot rests on the floor and her legs are spread but with her jeans on I can see nothing. Shame. A wet pussy is one of my favourite sights. Even as I watch, her heels dig in, her hips rise slightly off the bed and she moans softly as her orgasm hits. Gentle and private though it is, the sexual energy flows into me, strengthening me. I inhale, absorbing everything.

  Slowly her hips sink back onto the mattress and her hand slips out of her jeans. I don’t even try to resist the lure of that scented skin. Eagerly I float across the room, touch her hand, feeling the vibrant, residual energy, the slick, sexual heat of her body flow into me. I close my eyes, and savour what she unknowingly gives me.

  She stills and I freeze. Open my eyes. Hers are open too, scanning the room. She looks not frightened, but faintly puzzled.

  She knows I am here?

  The thought startles me. So few humans have this awareness. Gently I release her hand and rise from the bed. She sits up, still looking around her and rubs her hand. Has she felt my touch? Interesting.

  As I say, few humans ever sense my presence. Maybe you are one of them? Have you ever sat naked in front of a mirror, applying make-up or brushing your hair and suddenly felt yourself being watched? Maybe you have lain on your bed with your lover’s head between your legs and looked to the door, skin prickling, convinced you are being spied upon?

  If that happens, do you drag the covers over you self-consciously? Or perhaps not?

  Tell me, have you ever angled your head towards an imagined audience when your lover’s cock is in your mouth, bringing yourself to swift orgasm at the thought of someone watching your performance? Be honest now.

  I am that someone.

  For millennia, my kind have roamed this earth, feeding on the sexual energy you humans have in such abundance and give away so freely. If only you knew what a resource you are. Sometimes there can be two of us, three, in your bedroom at night, circling,
moving, touching when we can, but always, always watching.

  You have sensed me. I know you have.

  Those times you talk dirty, saying words you would never normally dare to use. Those times you allow your lover liberties you would never usually agree to. When his cock gets to go where it has previously been forbidden. When your fingers probe where they have never before ventured and your reward is your lover’s shock, their pleasure and an orgasm to die for.

  It is my reward too. A satisfied human ensures a satisfied Watcher.

  The girl on the bed has relaxed now that I am no longer touching her. Her head is cocked, listening, and I become aware not only of what she is listening to, but the reason for her self-pleasuring.

  The people in the room next door are having sex. Noisy, exuberant, wall-banging sex.

  I melt through the wall.

  They’re on the bed. One man, one woman, gloriously naked. His back is sheened in sweat, his muscles and shoulder blades cleanly defined, arms straining with the effort as he holds himself over her. His buttocks are tight, as his hips piston in and out and he is chanting a mantra, ‘God-oh-God-oh-God …’

  I prefer to inhabit women but I do, sometimes, take men. Variety and all that. If this were later in the night, had I already satisfied my initial hunger, I would simply take up a position on the bed beside them and watch, basking in the energy pouring off them. But I am needy. A shot of instant, concentrated ardour will take the edge off.

  The girl is beautiful. Her long, dark hair, spread over the pillow, is damp with sweat, her arms are raised above her head and she is gripping on to the headboard – the source of the banging that disturbs their neighbour. Her back is arched, her legs wrapped around her lover’s waist, holding him tightly as he pounds into her.

  From the look on her face, I have arrived just in time.

  Without a second to lose, I slide inside her skin. I have no idea how I do this, I’m just glad I can.

  The energy explodes like a firework inside me. Had I a voice I would cry out, I would scream with pleasure. But I have no voice and I am grateful for this. This way the energy stays contained, flowing freely from her to me and back again so fast she doesn’t even miss it.