Showtime
by Misty Meadow
Look at me. I'm standing in front of the mirrored closet doors in my bedroom, looking at myself. I'm just a skinny kid. At twelve years old you'd think my boobs would be growing by now, but my chest is as flat as a bread board. Admittedly, my nipples are perceptibly bigger than two months ago, but there's no sign of actual tits yet. I lift the skirt of my school uniform and look at my skinny legs. They belong to an eight year old, not me. And my knickers are just plain white cotton schoolgirl knickers, bought in a pack of six, not exactly sexy. I drop my skirt, sit on the end of my bed and fall back. My life sucks. I don't have any real friends. All the kids at school hang out in cliques and I always seem to be on the edge, never part of the group, never quite fitting in. I get up and look out of the window, which reaches from floor to ceiling with a sliding glass door. I wouldn't call it a panoramic view. In this run down district of North London, the backyards are miniscule, but at least I have a balcony, though it's tiny, just enough room for me and a couple of big house plants in pots. I slide the door open and step out. The house opposite is not thirty feet away. It has a balcony like ours, but instead of a sliding glass door it has a French door made of small panes, behind which I can faintly see someone. I know who lives there, a woman in her late twenties who goes by the name of Lesley Lynch. She was invited over for our new year's party and she was the only person there who paid me any attention. To everyone else, I was just my mum's annoying kid. At one point she put her arm round my shoulder and gave me a one armed hug, which lasted longer than I expected and she whispered to me that I was adorable. Afterwards, Mum said I shouldn't let Lesley Lynch get too close because she was a lesbian. I asked how she knew and she said that Lesley had been seen in more than one gay bar, like that proved anything. Maybe she just wanted a glass of wine or something; anyway what's wrong with lesbians? Some of my teachers are obviously lesbians and no one's telling me to stay away from them. Lesley didn't get invited over after that.
The door opposite opens and yes, she's there, barely visible, the interior made dark by the bright sunlight outside and she appears to be wearing either a nightie or a short slip, which barely covers her bum. She's looking at me and I look away, pretending that I haven't seen her and step back into my room. Is Lesley Lynch spying on me? It's an intriguing idea. If she wants to spy on me, I'm not bothered. I don't have anything to hide. In fact this could be fun. What do you call a female peeping Tom?
I decide that I'm gonna let her spy without letting her know that I know she's doing it. I can secretly spy on her, too. I close the sliding door, pull the curtain part way closed and find my camcorder, one of those tiny ones that fit in your palm, and place it on the floor between the edge of the window and the curtain. Unless she's specifically looking for it, I doubt she'll notice it. I connect the camcorder with a cable to my laptop and turn both devices on. I adjust the camera so it aims directly at the balcony opposite and zoom in to the full limit. Checking the screen I can see the doorway clearly and yes, she's there sitting on the end of her bed and it is a slip she's wearing.
The layout of her bedroom is probably much like mine. The head of my bed is against the wall by the door, with the window at the foot. The closet is to one side. I pull the curtain open again and slide the door open, quickly turning away having "noticed nothing". I stand in front of the closet so she can see me in profile. My laptop is on the floor at my feet. I can see on the screen that she's still staring across at me. I lift my skirt up again, high on my chest and look at myself. To be honest, despite my ordinary looking knickers, it's quite a lewd pose. I drop my skirt, turn away from the window and lift the back of it to show my bum, looking over my shoulder to inspect myself in the mirror. I quite like my bum, but there again, all bums look pretty good, except really fat ones. I drop the skirt again and turn back to the mirror. Looking down at the screen once more, I can see she's stood and is now in the doorway. Her slip is translucent enough for me to see her white knickers through it.
She's not bad looking, quite petite, her tits are tiny, her hips narrow and her spiky hair gives her a street urchin look. Her legs, though slender, are curvier than mine. I turn slowly to face her and she looks away, gazing disinterestedly at the sky, pretending not to notice me. I sit on the end of my bed, then lie back and lift my legs one at a time to take my sneakers off. This should give her a nice view up my skirt.
It's commonly believed that only boys like looking up the skirts of schoolgirls, but a lot of men like it too and a surprising number of women. I speak from experience. Ever since I was a toddler I've enjoyed showing off my knickers to friends and strangers alike. Visiting uncles, the postman, teachers of both sexes and kids in the playground, to name just a few, have all been treated to a view of my Marks and Spencer's knickers. The all pretend not to look, but I can tell they're sneaking glances. It gives me a sense of power.
I repeat the maneouvre with my legs, taking my white ankle socks off, then lie back with my feet up on the bed, letting my knees fall apart. I hope she has keen eyesight. Thirty feet is not too far for her to enjoy a "careless" display of my undies. After a few seconds, I get up and stand in front of the mirror. Time to step it up a notch. I unfasten my skirt and take it off, fold it carefully and lay it on the bed, then slowly unbutton my blouse. I'm not wearing a bra. It would have nothing to hold up anyway and who needs extra garments in this blistering hot summer? I shrug it from my shoulders, lay it on the bed and turn back to look at myself. Perhaps calling myself "just a skinny kid" doesn't really do me justice. I'm tall for twelve and I know that in years to come I'll have one of those "supermodel" figures. Perhaps I'll be a ballet dancer, except that seems to be too much like hard work. My face isn't bad, though I'm probably not the best judge. If Lesley Lynch is a lesbian, maybe she's into little girls as well and that could be very interesting.
I put my hand on my stomach and slide it down the front of my knickers until my fingers go between my legs. Glancing down at the laptop, I can see that Lesley is staring intently at me. So far, so good. I run my middle finger up and down my . . . what should I call it? Kids at school all have different names, ranging from "Pee-pee" to "Tinkle" to "Pussy" to "Cunt" depending on their age and sophistication. I'm going to settle for "cunt". It has a lewd, sexy ring to it, very naughty and right now I'm being about as naughty as I've ever been, letting a grown woman watch while I undress and stroke my cunt. Just the thought of it sends a little tingle through me. I slide my hand up to my waist, then back down again, this time inside my knickers, and touch my cunt with my fingers. I push my middle finger inside myself, as deep as it'll go, then begin to pump it in and out. From the profile view that Lesley has, there must be a great deal of movement inside my knickers and it's obvious that I'm masturbating, not just scratching an itch. I love masturbating. I do it every night in bed and sometimes during the day in the toilet, my knickers round my ankles, my legs spread, my fingers furious working until I cum. Yes, I cum. I've been cumming for a year now.
I check the screen every few seconds and Lesley's attention is riveted on me. This is the most fun I've had in ages, more fun than when Maggie Wilson in school let me put my finger in her. (She knew I had a crush on her and she was just teasing me. She never spoke to me after that.) My cunt is becoming quite wet, not just from the stimulation of my finger, but from the awareness that Lesley is looking, seeing it all, and it's that more than anything that makes this adventure so thrilling. I take my hand out from my knickers, hold it up, middle finger extended, then pop it in my mouth and suck on it. I can taste myself, which excites me even more. Glancing down at the screen, I see Lesley's slip is bunched up round her waist and her hand is down the front of her own knickers, moving rhythmically. Oh, my God, she's frigging herself, too. Fucking awesome! My heart is pounding.
Time to move on. I turn to face the window, looking down at my lower body, hook my thumbs into the waist of my knickers and slowly start to slide them down, an inch at a time. My cunt comes into view and I glance sideways at the screen. Lesley is no longer hiding in the darkness; she's now standing in the doorway with the sunlight falling directly on her. One shoulder strap of her slip has fallen so that the front of her slip falls to expose a tit. Her hand is still inside her knickers, the other is pinching her nipple. I push my own knickers down to my knees. My legs are too far apart to let them fall any farther. My fingers go to work again, one middle finger pushing deep inside me, the other circling my clit. I see Lesley push her knickers down to her ankles, step out of them, spread her feet and hold her cunt lips open with her fingers, looking down at herself. I take my own knickers off and step right into the open doorway. The potted plants at either end of my balcony prevent any other houses from seeing me.
Lesley Lynch, my paedophile lesbian neighbour, looks right at me and we make eye contact. The pretence has gone. We're both masturbating for the viewing pleasure of the other. She smiles at me, thrusting three fingers deep inside herself. That's when it happens. It's like a star shell bursting inside my cunt, spreading fire and light all through my abdomen and then the rest of my body. I freeze in place then as the wave of ecstasy subsides, my legs crumple and I fall to my knees, then on to my back, my legs spread wide, my cunt dripping with my juice. I've never cum this hard before. I'm suddenly in love with my darling Lesley Lynch whose gaze brought about this stunning orgasm. I lift my head and look across to see her give a little wave, then step inside her room. She must have guessed what happened. The French door closes, but I know that this has been just the start of something that's going to be awesome.
This skinny little kid might just turn out to be a raging lesbian. Fine with me.
It's bedtime. I lock my bedroom door. I don't want Mum bursting in just as I'm . . . well, who knows? The overhead light is on and I switch on the bedside lamp and place it on the floor to one side of the window. I want all the light I can get. I pull the curtain open and look across. Lesley's light is on and I can see her sitting on the end of her bed, apparently fully clothed. I'm wearing a sun dress over a clean pair of my M & S knickers. (The ones I'd had on earlier had become so wet I had to dump them in the laundry hamper and don a new pair. I hope Mum doesn't find them and wonder why my knickers smell so strongly of sex but I sincerely doubt that she's a knicker sniffer.)
I slide my door open and stand there, waiting for her to notice me, and she must have been waiting because she stands and opens her own door. She has an excited smile on her face. Although we're clearly within earshot of each other (in fact we'd hardly have to raise our voices) we stay silent. At his moment, we're just two lust crazed exhibitionists, showing off to each other and the relationship we've created has a kind of fragile balance that I don't want to upset and it seems she feels the same.
I lift the front of my dress and finger my cunt outside my knickers, waiting for her to take the initiative. She reaches back and unzips her dress, letting it fall from her shoulders. I can see that under her white translucent full length slip, she has a pair of bright turquoise knickers, a suspender belt and white stockings. She pauses. It must be my move. I lift the sundress over my head, leaving me naked except for my knickers. I feel delicious thrills of excitement as she looks at me, clearly aroused. I put my hands on my bum and push my lower body forward. She shrugs the shoulder straps of her slip off and lets it fall round her ankles. She has no bra. Her tits are small and don't droop at all. They're the kind of tits that I want when mine finally begin to grow. I reciprocate by pushing my knickers down until they're bunched across my hips, still hiding my cunt. In response, she takes her own knickers off, tosses them over her shoulder and stands, legs spread, showing of her cunt to me. Her pubes are shaved off completely, leaving her with no more hair than me. I push my own knickers down and let them fall. We stare at each other, smiling. She unfastens the suspenders from the stockings, and throws the belt aside, then pulls up a chair into the doorway and sits in it. She slides one stocking, then the other, down her lovely legs, then sprawls back in the chair, legs spread as wide as they'll go, and starts to masturbate for me. I do the same, my feet spread, my knees slightly bend, my fingers busy making me even more excited than I was, but more than just my fingers, it's being looked at by someone who appreciates that I am actually sexy, that pushes me close to orgasm.
Then, without warning, she stands, pushes the chair out of sight, and sits on the bed, a huge dildo in her hand. It's flesh coloured, about eight inches long, two inches thick with a pair of balls at the bottom end. She sits on the bed and slowly inserts it into her cunt, then falls back and begins to pump it in and out. Oh, my God, she's fucking herself for me. I stare, transfixed, wishing I had a dildo so I could fuck myself for her. Then she sits up and turns round so she's kneeling on the bottom of the bed, her upper body lowered and her arse displayed. She reaches between her legs with the dildo and pushes it all the way into her cunt, then her other hand reaches round and she puts her middle finger up her arse, pushing both dildo and finger vigourously in and out. It looks incredibly lewd. I have to stop masturbating or I will come and perhaps miss some of her action. After a minute or so, she rolls on to her back, sits up and licks the dildo from base to tip, licking her lips to show how much she's enjoying the taste of her own cunt. In turn, I push two fingers deep into myself and suck them clean, then repeat the process, my big grin communicating how happy I am, how thrilling it's been to show myself off to her and my eagerness to move things further on.
She goes back to masturbating with her fingers, and I can hear faint gasps across the void between us. Then she lets out a loud groan and falls back on the bed, her chest heaving. She's cum! Oh, what joy! Did I help make her cum? Was the fact that I was watching her bring her to orgasm? Of course! As she lifts her head to look at me, I thrust my fingers into myself again and that same explosion blows me into tiny glowing pieces which come together again to form a naked preteen schoolgirl who's immensely proud of herself.
I step out on to the balcony. I don't care if the other neighbors can see me. I'm just a kid who's getting a breath of fresh air before going to be, who happens to like sleeping naked in this summer heat. She stands in the door way and steps forward.
"Hi, Lesley," I call.
"Hi, Kiddo. Nice night."
I look up at the stars. "It is. The best night ever!"
"Wanna come over tomorrow?"
"Absolutely," I say, eagerly.
"It's number fourteen. Don't bother ringing the bell, the door will be open. Just come right in and I'll be waiting upstairs for you."
"You're so beautiful," I have to say.
"You're just a skinny kid, but then I love skinny kids."
The End.
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