Free The Voyeur Next Door by Airicka Phoenix Page B

this is sexual gratification without the mess.”
    “So how would this work?” I wondered, trying to work the scene out in my head.
    “At first? Webcams. I will watch you and you will watch me. Overtime, should we both agree on it, we will progress the relationship while maintaining the stipulations.”
    “Why?” I murmured at last. “Why like this? Why not in person?”
    “Because I liked knowing that watching me touch myself got you off. I want to see it again. I want to watch you touch yourself for me. We’re not like other people. The anonymity is what gets us hot. Should we ever met, that mystery will be gone. The rules will change and I don’t want that just yet.”
    There was no arguing that point. I did like the mystery. I secretly liked the idea of him getting off simply by watching me touch myself. Maybe partially, it was also a sort of ego boost. It was the knowledge that my body was sexy enough to turn a man on.
    “What if we accidentally see each other?” I wondered, momentarily terrified by the idea of him seeing my face and it not living up to his expectations.
    “I’m rarely home and when I am, I have no desire to set foot on the terrace. I can assure you, unless we meet in person, you will never see me out there.”
    That was a mild relief. There were a lot of things I could give up, neighbor watching wasn’t one of them. I needed that. It was my version of chicken soup for the soul. But I knew I couldn’t if I had to worry he might throw open his windows at any moment and spot me. Regardless, I liked the rest of the plan. So long as he stuck to his part of the bargain and stayed away from the veranda, I would happily meet him online to fool around. Only I wasn’t so sure my bravery would remain steadfast if I ever had to face him. At least, not right away. Insane? Yeah, it was. But we all needed to live a little dangerously from time to time.
    “So, how do we start?” I asked. “Over the phone?”
    He chuckled and that sound was just the epitome of raw sexuality. “Do you have a webcam?”
    I did. I had a laptop with one, but the quality was shit due to the fact that the thing was about three hundred years old. But at the time, it had been all I could afford. My mom had offered to get me one, but I would have sliced my own kidney out and sold it on the black market before ever letting that happen. I found mine at a pawn shop, being used as a doorstopper. But it had been sixty bucks and already loaded with all the programs I would need, like the internet and Word. I knew eventually I would buy a new one, I just never had a reason.
    “Yes,” I said. “I have one.”
    “I will give you a secure webchat service. You just need an email and a webcam.”
    I wanted to ask how he knew of such a place and if he did this kind of thing often, more importantly, with how many other girls. While I wasn’t jealous, I did want to know which number I ranked in a man’s attentions.
    “I’ve never done this with anyone else,” he said, as though he could read my thoughts, or maybe he sensed it in my silence. “But I have thought about it.”
    “I’ve never been watched … until last night,” I told him truthfully.
    “Now that you know you were, how do you feel?”
    I knew all about voyeurism and its counterpart, exhibitionism. I knew what both were and what they entailed. But I was pretty sure what I was fell into a more shaded area of the spectrum. I liked watching people. I liked seeing them do normal things. I liked trying to decide who they were and what they did and what they were thinking. In a lot of ways, I liked analyzing them and their behavior. Yes, more times than not, that included me seeing my neighbors getting down and dirty, but I rarely felt sexually stimulated by the sight. Getting my rocks off wasn’t why I did what I did. Was it wrong? Yes, and I knew it. But it had become a routine I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to give up.
    The night before, watching him had been something