We had a new neighbor move in next door when I was little.

He was in his forties: tall, well-dressed, effortlessly charming. From the moment I met him, I felt an undeniable pull, a schoolgirl crush that settled in my chest like a secret too big to contain. My parents often invited him over for drinks or to watch football, and I knew, deep down, that my fascination with him must have been painfully obvious.

As the years passed, I tried to bury it, convincing myself that my feelings were foolish. What chance did I have? I was just a skinny kid, awkward and unnoticed, while he was the kind of man who seemed untouchable: refined, confident, completely out of reach. I dated boys my own age, hoping to distract myself, but none of them ever measured up. None of them made my pulse race the way he did.

Towards the start of college my parents decided to remodel our house, and I got moved to the guest room at the back, which just happened to face my gorgeous neighbor's bedroom.

One night I saw something that would turn my world upside down.

The night was quiet, the kind that makes every sound sharper, every shadow deeper. I had only meant to close my curtains when movement in the house next door caught my eye. My neighbor stood in his dimly lit bedroom, his posture relaxed but commanding. He wasn’t alone. A woman knelt before him, her silhouette shifting as she moved with a kind of confidence and urgency I didn't quite understand.

My breath caught in my throat. There was something intimate, primal, about the way he held her, his fingers threaded through her hair, guiding her movements. A slow, deliberate control. Heat crawled up my neck as I realized I was staring, transfixed by the raw intensity of it all.

A sudden flicker of his gaze made my stomach drop. Had he seen me? Panic jolted through me, and I dropped to the floor, pressing my back against the wall. My heart pounded so loudly I feared he might hear it through the glass. What had I just witnessed? And why couldn’t I look away?

I knew it was wrong, but I tentatively peeked out over the window. At this point he had her bent over the bed, his cock looked so hard and erect. I couldn't take my eyes off it, it looked so big, even from this far away.

A heat I couldn’t control burned through me as I watched them, my breath shallow, my body tense with something both thrilling and overwhelming. My fingers trembled as they drifted lower, seeking relief from the unbearable tension coiling inside me. Every movement sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, my body reacting to the scene before me in ways I could hardly comprehend.

I bit my lip, desperate to stay silent, but the effort only made the sensations more intense. My skin was damp with sweat, my muscles tight, the pressure building like a storm rolling in, unstoppable and all-consuming. It was as if I were climbing a steep, endless incline, my heartbeat racing with anticipation, every nerve attuned to the inevitable fall.

And then... release. A shockwave of sensation surged through me, stealing my breath and curling my toes. My body tensed, then shattered into trembling aftershocks, my limbs weak, my mind hazy. I pressed a hand over my mouth, my pulse thundering as I lay there, lost in the dizzying aftermath.

The world slowly came back into focus, but nothing felt the same. My heart still pounded, my skin still tingled, and outside that window, the night continued as if it hadn’t just consumed me whole.

That was how I had my first proper orgasm, so intense and powerful that I had to bite my lips to keep from screaming.

From that night on, everything changed. What had been a simple curiosity morphed into something I couldn’t control. Every night before sleep, I found myself restless, consumed by a need I couldn’t name. I began retreating into the quiet of my room, trying to process these new, intense feelings that seemed to demand my attention.

It wasn’t just about the physical urge; it felt deeper, like my emotions were tangled in a knot I couldn’t untie. I started seeking out images and stories that matched what my mind had come to crave, my thoughts often drifting to him, the man who seemed so far beyond reach. I imagined scenarios, not with clear faces, but with roles I could slip into, becoming something different in the stories I created.

But every time I indulged in these fantasies, a strange mix of guilt and desire swirled inside me. Was I crossing a line? Should I stop? But the yearning always returned, stronger than before, leaving me tangled in my own mind.

About a month after my new habit had started, I found myself alone again, the quiet of the night wrapping around me. As usual, I slipped into the familiar routine, caught in a moment of reckless desire, my thoughts racing. But then, something happened, something I hadn’t expected.

I opened my eyes for just a moment, and the shock hit me like a wave. In my haste, I had forgotten one simple thing: I hadn’t closed the blinds. I was completely exposed, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t realized. Panic set in as my heart skipped a beat, and my chest tightened.

And as if the universe had conspired to make the moment even worse, I looked across to my neighbor’s window. There he was, standing there with a woman, their gaze fixed on me. The color drained from my face as the reality of the situation hit me, what had I done? My body froze, and a flush of embarrassment rushed through me, but oddly, I couldn’t look away.

The tension in the air was unbearable. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, a storm of emotions swirling in my chest. When I finally managed to look away, I saw the flicker of amusement on their faces, their smiles impossible to ignore. My heart raced, unsure of what this meant or how to process it.

And so began my new nightly routine with my neighbor.