Whose That Doggy In The Window?

The next morning you grab a cup of coffee and sit down at the computer. You don’t even care enough to check outside the window right now. If she’s so fucking bonkers that she wants to stare at you outside your window at 7 AM, then she deserves it. After about ten minutes of wishing you were back asleep, you summon the will needed to take a look at the video recording from last night.

Nothing yet. You fast forward. Nothing yet. You fast forward. You debate just saying fuck it and checking the video at some other point. Preferably a point when your fondest wish isn’t strangling the sun. But, no if you go back to sleep now, you’re just going to end up sleeping away the entire Saturday. Besides, you have a video to watch and- BINGO. You see rustling in the field of view of the camera, rustling caused by a certain someone who happens to have recently lost a backpack.

She sneaks out of the bushes, with a big grin on her face, her eyes shift back and forth. They look guilty, but in a giddy way. She is wearing a pair of jeans a long sleeve shirt, both thick enough to handle the various scrapes that you’d get from the bush branches protecting the window. You can’t deny that crazy woman or not, she looks pretty good. First she peeks up into your room to see if anyone is in. Then she ducks back down to the safety. Her chest puffs and down with air, it looks to you like the thrill excites her.

She keeps watching, throughout the next hour, occasionally pulling her camera into view to take a picture. She’s an expert photographer, moving and toying with the angle to compensate for a lack of flash. After every picture she pulls the camera down to study the picture, possibly taking another attempt at it if she wasn’t happy with the finished result. Every time she snaps a picture she gives a girlish giggle.

The angle of your hidden camera doesn’t capture what changes in her behavior, but you know that this is right about when you decided you’d give her a show. That you gave yourself a good yanking.

The minute she sees it, her attention snaps squarely on you. Her head never leaves it’s tiny corner of the window. It’s her hands that go into motion. First, they sneak into her bag and take out what looks like a pink ballgag, and secure it in her mouth, likely to keep herself quiet. And other reasons. Then her hands go to work loosening the zipper of her jeans. Soon, one of her hands is moving up and down tenderly, causing her entire body to wiggle and shake. At one point her knees start to buckle so she steadies herself against the wall. All the while her free hand is busy. If taking such expert photos in poor lighting was a testament to her skills as a photographer, this proves it. While her hand teases with her pussy, and her hips buckle widely and needily, her other hand holds up the camera, and snaps shot after shot into the darkness of your room.

Then she does something weird. Despite having not cum, despite the steady rhythm of her thrusting, she stops. She pulls her hand away from her hungry cunt, and shivers. Drool runs down her chin and lands between her cleavage. It takes you a minute to realize why. It was probably because she wanted to cum at the same time as you, and she was right on the edge.

True to form, she begins again a moment later, forgoing the slow in and out of her earlier playing, and instead focusing on animalistic thrusting. The formerly controlled camera flashes pictures rapidly, and then within a few moments, her body jerks, and her head rolls back. then she lays back in the dirt and twigs twitching. You know that her fingers are still pumping, trying to get another orgasm out, but you can’t see them because she’s in your camera’s blind spot. Dammit.

She lays on the ground panting through her gag, for what seems like fifteen minutes. Then she collects herself off the ground, wipes the dirt off her body, and then resumes her work watching and taking pictures of you. Interspaced into her stalking, she opens her laptop from time to time or checks her phone. Does she do all of her homework assignments outside your window? After a few more hours she leaves.

Rubbing your eyes, you stand up from the computer. The current feed from the computer shows that she isn’t there currently. You have your proof now (and some masturbation aid), the question now is what to do about this situation...