A little about me: 34, well educated, veteran, 6’1, 215, and new to writing like this.

My Kinks: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Teasing, Blowjobs, Anal, pretty open minded

Here’s the scenario:

Since I moved in next door, I've had this strange sense that I'm being watched—at least, that's how it feels, though I can never be sure. It started small, just a flicker of movement through my window or the occasional glimpse of you in your yard, working or tending to something. At first, I thought it was coincidence, the kind of thing that happens when two people are living so close. But then it started to feel like more. I’d be outside, maybe laying out by the pool or mowing the lawn, and I’d catch the shadow of someone—you—in the corner of my eye. Not enough to confirm anything, but just enough to make me a little more intrigued.

It wasn’t just your presence—it was the way you looked at me. There was always something more to the way your eyes lingered, something that made me feel like you were trying to piece together a story, something beyond the usual pleasantries neighbors exchange. It wasn’t overt, never obvious, but I’d feel that pull. Whether I was jogging past your house or swimming some laps in the pool, it was there, a soft tension in the air between us.

I’d find myself wondering: Is she watching? It was almost as if we were both pretending not to notice the little moments when our eyes met through the window, or the casual brush of space when we happened to run into each other outside. I could feel the weight of your gaze, though you never said a word. It was a quiet intimacy, one that neither of us dared to break. And every time I caught it, there was that sudden rush of blood to my cock, that subtle thrill of wanting to just take you right then and there.

There were the times when I’d stop to talk to you after I’d gone for a run and I’d catch your eyes following the sweat drip down my chest and stop at my waistband, as you softly bit your lip. It made me wonder if you were studying me the way someone might study a book they can't quite understand, drawn in by the pages but not sure what the story was yet.

And then, when the breeze would carry the scent of freshly mowed grass or the chlorine from the pool, I’d catch sight of you in your garden, busy with your own tasks, but somehow always within the perimeter of my awareness. We never spoke for long periods of time, just the casual wave or a brief, polite exchange of words, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if one of those moments held more—if you didn’t just glance, but actually felt our bodies against each other.

I can’t help but feel like we’re on the verge of something—like all these small moments, these quiet exchanges, are building up to something more. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but it seems like the more time passes, the more our paths cross in these subtle ways. I’m beginning to wonder…

Send me a message if you’re interested in continuing this scenario. I’d love to keep it going. We can write as much or as little as you’re comfortable with.