She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, enjoying her victory. She saw that although he’d pulled up his jeans, in his haste and distraction he had left them unfastened. Indeed, they had even fallen somewhat—she could see a triangular section of his underwear, white against the faded blue. She could even see that, although considerably reduced, there was still a good-sized bulge there. And this gave her another idea.

She was still in her bra and panties, having dropped all her other clothes by the front door. She rose from what was now a half-kneeling, half-sitting position in the window, and, knowing he was watching, slowly stood on the seat there, feet apart. Slowly raised her arms and clasped her hands behind her head.

Then she looked down at him—and smiled, sweetly.

His wagging finger had slowed to a complete stop as she’d stood up, and now hung there, forgotten, pointing at something nobody cared about. He looked spellbound.

She had never felt less like the Invisible Girl in her life—and she loved it. Loved being able to taunt him this way, doing what she wanted to do and having him helpless to do anything about it. The power of it made her tingle all over. She wanted more. She wanted to pay him back. She wanted to torture him.

So, still smiling down at him, she allowed her hands, with exaggerated slowness, to slide down the back of her neck, to separate there and drift down until they covered her breasts, cupping them, toying with them, slowly drawing her splayed fingers back and forth across them. Then, still in slow motion, her smile widening a little, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, then reached up to pull down first one shoulder-strap, then the other. Then she lowered her arms to her sides. Her bra was now only covering her breasts by little more than force of habit.

Still looking straight into his eyes, she took a long, deep breath and let it out in a quick sigh.

The bra slipped down a fraction of an inch.

Another breath. Another sigh. Another fraction of an inch.

She reached up and with one finger began to trace a line across the top of her bra, with each pass nudging it a little further until it hung, barely covering her nipples…before finally slipping free. She lowered her arm and let it fall to her feet. Then she raised her hands to her now naked breasts and began to gently pull and pinch her nipples.

She watched his hand drop unnoticed to his side while this was going on. Saw his already sagging jeans, as if in chain reaction, begin to slither downward in sympathetic slow motion until, undiscovered by their hypnotized owner, they were half-way to his knees, leaving exposed what appeared to be a small white tent with a large slanted pole. As she continued to toy with her nipples she now saw his hand travel, as if by its own power—or perhaps by hers—and place itself, palm down, on the tent-pole, and begin slowly to rub there, up and down.

Oh god, she thought, I’m making him touch himself, just like he did to me! She was becoming delirious, power-drunk. She allowed her right hand to trail gracefully down, circling her navel and then continuing down onto her panties, massaging her abdomen for a moment before coming to rest, briefly, between her thighs. Then, still smiling but intent, watching him carefully, she began to imitate the motion of his hand on himself, synchronizing her movements to his.

For a few moments they continued together, a pantomime mirror act. Then she saw his eyes change and regain their focus, seeming somewhat puzzled. She saw him look down and discover what his hand had been doing without notifying him.

He quickly pulled it away and hitched his jeans up. When he looked up and she saw the still-startled expression on his face, she grinned at him—an ‘I got you again’ grin.

Then, still grinning at him, she slipped her hand inside her panties.

He had started to refasten his jeans, but at this he simply ceased to move, one hand holding up his pants, the other on his zipper.

At first, her left hand still teasing her breast, she simply slid her fingers back forth beneath the elastic, dipping a little here and there but not really delving. After a while she took her hand out and hooked her thumb in the elastic, slowly tugging it half-way down her hip, and looking down at him with a mocking ‘should-I-or-shouldn’t –I’ expression.

Then she pulled down the other side until her panties were bunched at her hips, a small tuft of curly hair peeking out over the tightly stretched elastic.

Then she stopped and looked at him for a long, long moment.

Then, thumbs still hooked in her panties, slowly turned her back to him, giving him an unobstructed view of her almost entirely exposed behind. She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiled again, and then with great care began to ease her panties down her legs, past her knees, down her calves and finally to her ankles. Never letting go, bending lower and lower, giving him a good look. Then just as slowly straightening up and turning to face him, again raising her arms and clasping her hands behind her head. He had never seen her completely naked, and she wanted him to know that he was only doing so now because she had chosen to allow it.

And she wasn’t done with him yet.

Again she slowly lowered her right hand, bringing it to rest in the mound of curly hair, massaging it, running her fingers through it. She was just beginning to allow her middle finger to travel a little further, to explore the slick wetness between her legs, when she again saw him seem to come to his senses, at least momentarily.

He reached into his right -hand pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief with red polka-dots. He held it in his hand while he pulled his still-gaping jeans down around his ankles, and followed them with his underpants, his erection springing forth, almost tapping on the window.

Oh god, she thought, look at it. He’s standing outside my window with his pants down and his cock out—and I made him do it!

She imagined going out to him then, naked; imagined taking off the rest of his clothes; imagined rubbing herself against him, feeling his cock against her...oh god. Her middle finger began to travel a little faster now, the pictures in her mind, along with the actuality of him being there looking at her, beginning to overwhelm her.

But wait, what was he doing?

He was unfolding his handkerchief. Now he was holding it up to her with both hands, the red polka-dots looking almost like... Hearts! He was holding up the panties she had been wearing yesterday! He’d been carrying them around in his pocket!

For some reason she found this thought exciting—if a little disgusting. And now she watched, fascinated, as he took her panties, cupped them in his right hand, and began to stroke his erection with them—looking right at her as he did so.

Oh god, his cock in her panties!

It was almost as if he was rubbing against her from a distance. She continued to stroke herself, faster now, looking back at him and watching the head of his cock appearing and disappearing in the bright red and white nest of fabric in his hand.

Oh god, she wanted to do that, wrap her panties around his cock and stroke it...take the head into her mouth while she stroked the shaft...oh god, oh god, she was...she was going to...is he watching me...will he see me when I...oh god I’m going to...I’m.... Ah!...oh...GOD!

She convulsed, bending over, as the shockwave tore through her, leaving her gasping, one hand on the window frame for support. As she did so she saw him reach his climax, his head thrown back, his mouth open, gasping—she could hear his loud groan even through the glass.

She watched, amazed, as the white stuff spurted from his cock and fell to the ground, a few drops reaching the window and clinging there. She suddenly remembered the taste of it in her mouth, the slightly oyster-like texture as she swallowed it. And for a moment wondered if she could get pregnant that way. She didn’t think so, but she was going to do some research. Later. Much later. Oh god, she could hardly stand up...

They just stood where they were, panting. Smiling and looking at each other as if they had just ridden the world’s largest roller-coaster together. She watched with interest as his organ began to shrink, slowly returning to what she now assumed was its normal state. Saw him suddenly turn his head, listening to something, then quickly pull up his underwear and pants, stuffing her panties into his pocket. Looking up at her and realizing she hadn’t heard, he pointed toward the front of the house, gesturing emphatically several times.

Then he made her a sweeping bow and blew her a kiss, smiled and shook his finger at her, as if to say, ‘It’s not over yet’, and vanished into the near-darkness.

By then she could hear the sound of car wheels on gravel approaching.

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