He had moved in that afternoon. You planned to take a cake or pie over to welcome him to the neighborhood the next day, but that evening you just so happened to look out of your bedroom window and see him masturbating.
His living room had a huge window and from that angle, you could see a portion of it. He was sitting on the armchair in the dimly lit room, stark naked. Tattoos crawled over his legs and arms, washing over his ribs and chest. When he turned his head you could see his neck past his beard and there were tattoos there too.
From the distance, you couldn't make out the fine details, but you could see enough. His large hand surrounded his cock, stroking it slowly. Your hand moved on its own, pushing your nightgown out of the way and dipping into your underwear. You were already slick with arousal, whimpering at how sensitive you were. Only if he was the one touching you instead! You mirrored his movements, matching your pace with his. His free hand rubbed over his stomach and chest, flicking his nipples, almost like he was worshipping his own body.
You gripped your left nipple, jumping slightly at the sudden pinch of pain. Then the pleasure came, rolling through you. Everything about him was erotic. The way shadows curved around his muscles as they bunched up, supporting the lazy thrust of his hips, the way he worked his cock slowly, teasingly. The way he tilted his head back against the armchair, grimacing in pleasure.
His hand sped up, calculated strokes that ended with a swipe of his thumb over the head of his cock. So that's what he liked. You found yourself taking note of it.
Your wrist ached a little but you paid it no mind, rubbing your pussy with your face practically glued to the window. Your bedroom light was off, so there was no way he'd notice unless he looked.
When he came, he aimed his cum at his stomach and you moaned, wishing you could lick it off like icing. You wondered what he would taste like. You pressed your fingers into your mouth and sucked on them, your other hand working frantically. You had to grip the window sill to catch yourself as your legs trembled through your climax.
When you looked back into his living room, he was nowhere to be seen.
I elegantly ripped this out of something else I was writing because this scene didn't fit. Also, I'm currently in a fever for gay men in fiction and annoyingly I can't find the exact sort of scenario I want... So I'm writing it. #superpower
Oh, I'm also going to start tagging short stories like this with #short scribbles
