From my fourth floor apartment I can see across the road and into the windows of the flats opposite. The road is quite wide so often when I sit in the window with a glass of wine in the evening all I can see are shapes. Most apartments like mine don’t have curtains or blinds on our huge windows, and if they do, often they are not closed. In the past 6 months I have come to ‘know’ many of my cross street neighbours. Some better than others! Many, unfortunately not the ones you would like to watch normally, enjoy being naked at home alone, some like to be naked with each other, lights on, blinds open. Although it has to be said far too much happens with the lights off, or out of view.
One evening, as it is going dark I see a guy across the street come home. He is about 35, married, or at least living with his girlfriend; I see her a lot more than him. He seems to get home late most nights and is gone in the morning before I am up for work, (You see this is the kind of in sight I have on my neighbours). So as a neighbour I don’t see often I am more intrigued and slip onto my window seat with a fresh glass of wine to watch. As I sit I see him place the package he was carrying in the bedroom, checking his voicemail in the living room, then loosening his tie as he moves back to the bedroom.
He strips off the rest of his clothes, careful to place them in the laundry basket at the end of the bed. A tidy guy? Wow, I thought, she does have him well trained! I took another sip of wine through smiling lips. He was now totally naked and I could take in the spectacle that was his form.
He was slim, but not skinny, I couldn’t really see his height although he didn’t look hugely tall. His physique was well toned for a man of his age and I assume from that he probably works out. Up one arm he had a tribal tattoo. I reached from his wrist all the way up his arm and across his shoulder; this I think was the most surprising thing about him. With his smart suit and tidy haircut the tattoo just didn’t seem to fit. Then he went out of view, into the en suite.
I waited a moment but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come back out. After scanning the other windows with no luck I moved out of my seat and began fixing dinner. From the kitchen in my apartment I could still see through the large windows, and be seen, I reminded myself cheekily. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw ‘Tidy Guy’ come back into his bedroom. His skin glistened under the lights as he towelled himself off. My interest reignited I left the sauce I was cooking on a low heat on the hob and went back to my seat.
By the time I had got myself a fresh glass of wine and got comfortable he was dry and sat on the edge of his bed. I wondered what he would do next as he sat seemingly staring into space. Slowly he stood up and went over to the huge built in wardrobes along the back wall of the room. Many times I had watched his wife getting ready in the mornings, selecting things from the many shelves and hanging rails. I wondered if he was getting ready to go out or just having a look…perhaps he was going to do some laundry, I laughed to myself.
As I watched I was surprised to see him reach up and pull out a handful of clothes from the rail and throw them on the bed. Surprised not at what he had done, but by what he had selected; from here they looked like his wife’s clothes. Intrigued I pulled one leg under myself and watched further as he began routing through her underwear.
With a handful of black lace he walked back to the bed. He was now facing me and I could get a good look at his cock. It was by no means hard, but he was obviously excited by what he was doing. He seemed to be sorting through the things on the bed, and after selecting something he sat with his back to me. For a few minutes I watched as he sat, facing the cupboards, bent at the waist. Then he stood up.
As he stood he pulled up the small black lace panties that were around his thighs and positioned them around his neat butt. He was actually trying on his wife’s underwear! I had never been much into men wearing women’s pants, but his arse looked so good in them I had to keep watching. Next he attached a suspender belt to his waste and adjusted it accordingly, then bending over he reached for the stockings that were bunched around his ankles out of view. As he bent the lace was stretched further across his cheeks, watching I could feel myself getting excited.
For the next few minutes I watched him struggle, as I had done on many occasions, to fasten the stockings to the belt, but once done he looked magnificent. He ran a hand up his nylon clad legs ones after the other. I now wondered if he had shaved them smooth, I couldn’t see from this distance, but liked to imagine he had. Next the fight with the basque he had selected. Again something I had done myself many times on the way out to meet a new guy on a hot date! The newly attached and corrected underwear gave him an almost feminine silhouette, and had it not been for his extremely masculine arms and that very sexy tattoo you could have mistaken him for a beautiful woman; from behind that is!
I watched as he paraded himself in front of what must have been a mirror on the wall at the end of the bed. He slowly ran his hands up and down his new curves, turning to look over his shoulder to check out his view from behind and bending provocatively for his reflection. The more I watched the more excited I felt myself getting.
He moved back to the bed and looked through the clothes that were there. He chose a red dress from the pile of discarded items. And gently and carefully pulled the fabric over his head.
The dress feel to just above his knee and clung to the forced curves of his new body, he pulled it and adjusted until he was happy with how he looked before moving around to the side of the bed again and sitting. Bending forward all I could see of him was his back curving into his round, red satin covered bottom, from here looking 100% all woman! Slowly he rose to a sitting and then standing position and moved slowly and almost shakily to the end of the bed again. It was as his stretched, beautiful legs came into view again I saw the gorgeous shoes that adorned his feet.
They were red. Like nothing I would expect his wife to wear. I assume they were his own, specially bought for the occasion as I don’t think his wife’s shoes would fit him. How erotic, the thought that he has specifically gone out and bought them. Then I remember the package he was carrying when he got home. Yes, that must have been the shoes, ordered and waited for. I try to imagine the excitement as he realised they had arrived, knowing what he was going to do with them; I wondered how long he had been planning this, if it was a surprise for his wife? Maybe she had bought them for him with instructions as to what to do? Maybe he had come home early in order to dress for her pleasure as well as his own.
As he got used to the shoes his pacing picked up speed, his tight arse moving from side to side in the tight dress. He wiggled his sexy ass up and down in front of the mirror, his hands rubbing up and down the smooth fabric, I watched as he lifted the front of the dress to expose more of his legs to himself, and unbeknown to him, to me. By now I was so aroused I had put down my drink and was sitting legs apart rubbing the silk of my black panties.
As if he could feel the sexual tension passing above the cars below he sat on the end of the bed facing the mirror, with his side to me and spread his legs wide. His calves were stretched taught, accentuated by the black sheen of the stockings. He ran his hands up his thighs to the top of the stockings pulling the hem of the dress with them. Slowly and without taking his eyes off his own reflection he raises the hem up and over his head removing the dress completely.
I move my hands inside and begin rubbing gently on my swollen pussy as I watch him lean back and slide his body up the bed. I wish I could see more of his body, now fully aroused, his cock standing up straining against his wife’s underwear. His hands run up and down the sating and lace of the fabrics, and then across his stocking covered thighs, to the exposed skin between there and his crotch. I watched as he teased himself further, touching every inch of his mow female persona, how much did I want to be those hands.
Suddenly he stopped, I wondered if he had become aware of my presence and I quickly closed my legs and removed my hand. At almost the same instant I saw him leap from the bed. My heart racing I watched as he sprinted, rather clumsily in the shoes but sprinted non the less, to the door of the room and slammed it shut. He paused for a moment, a rabbit caught in headlights giving me just enough time to be distracted by another movement. A figure came through the front door, bags in hand. Oh god it was is wife, and he obviously wasn’t expecting her!
By the time I looked back to the room he was in the dresses, discarded on the bed were back in the wardrobe and the basque was off, no where to be seen. He sat in the edge of the bed straggling to remove the shoes that had brought him so much excitement. The underwear so rapidly removed the stockings laddered more than once, looking at them in his manly hand, torn and useless now it looked as if he had torn them from a woman, not himself.
Within minutes of him hearing her key in the door and the magic of the moment being broken things were back to how they had been an hour before when he had first walked through the door, new shoes in hand. There he stood facing the mirror, naked apart form a pair of jeans hurriedly thrown on, perhaps to cover his freshly shaved legs?
I jumped with him as she opened the door to the bedroom and found her startled husband in a state of undress. They kissed for a moment and then she disappeared into the en suite. He slumped onto the bed, disappointed. He was expecting more time to himself, and she had spoilt it; for both of us.
“Well,” I thought, “your secret is safe with me, your dirty little cross-dressing secret is safe. I won’t tell a soul, I just hope you get an afternoon to yourself again real soon.”