A Dream Come True



Drugs are my life. As a pharmacist for 20 years, I thought I had seen everything there was to see. On Tuesday night, October 27, 1998, I found, to my delight and surprise, that I was wrong.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and I had given my deliveryman the rest of the day off to go to a Halloween play in which his little girl was to sing. Although I had never heard of a Halloween play or Halloween songs, I didn’t question Frank’s intentions. He had worked for me for nine years and was of strong character. A little short on brainpower, he more than made up for his slow wit through trustworthiness, and he was as reliable as the sunrise.

He was a single parent and I was eager to please him by granting him a few hours off work. I figured I could make a few deliveries myself on the way home.

Kate Raymond was a great customer. She had severe back problems resulting in two major surgeries in the last two years. She had to take a wide range of pain medication to help her recover from her most recent surgery in January. I had noticed by her records that her physician had gradually reduced the dosages and she was taking about half the medication she took right after the surgery. She never asked for special treatment, although I would have jumped at the chance to provide it.

Kate was a widow in her early forties. She was a five-foot tall blonde with a face and build that simply gripped my attention every time I saw her. I suppose she noticed my furtive glances, but she didn’t return them. Her husband had died about a year ago in a skydiving accident. Although I wanted to pursue her, I thought she would return my interest with a little flirting when and if she was ready.

She called me at 4:00 to refill a prescription and needed it delivered that evening. I told her I would be happy to deliver it myself at about 7 p.m., the last stop before home. I could tell when her voice softened a little that she was glad I would be coming by.

I closed shop at six and made three deliveries. At 7:00, I knocked on Kate’s door and prepared to make my last delivery. Kate answered the door quickly.

“Hi, Steve” she cooed in a voice so mellow I thought I could feel it flowing into my ears. She was dressed in a silk blouse and a dark skirt cut just above the knees. I could see that the skirt had a slit up to mid-thigh. She wore dark nylons and moderate heels. She looked outstanding.

Kate had a wireless telephone at her ear and asked me “Can you please wait a minute? This is an important call I’ve been awaiting for three days! The liquor cabinet is right there. Just help yourself and relax on the patio for a few minutes, OK?”

She turned and confidently walked down the hall and turned left, out of sight, continuing her conversation, not waiting for my answer. She knew she didn’t have to wait for one.

Accompanied by her husband, we had met socially at parties and business meetings through the years. She knew I liked Bushmill’s Irish Whiskey, neat. I wasn’t surprised when I opened the liquor cabinet and there was a full bottle and a cocktail glass, easily within reach. I gladly poured myself a short shot, closed the cabinet and looked about.

Her one-story home was neat, clean and very classy. Strauss chandeliers adorned the living and dining rooms. The fireplace was glowing and I could smell rich incense, probably jasmine, burning on the mantelpiece. The carpet was white with red insets and the furniture was brass and glass. The liquor cabinet was in a large oak wall unit that held her stereo system and television. I was surrounded by the soulful sound of classic Aretha Franklin pumping from several directions.

On the other side of the living room, I could see the wide patio door, slid open with the screen closed. I strolled out onto the wide patio. It was bordered on the back by a low masonry wall topped by bricks. The property dropped downhill on the other side of the wall to a drainage channel. Below were neighboring houses, obscured by trees and gardens. It was peaceful and the sun had just set. The sky was clear and I could see stars twinkling between the slats of the massive ramada overhead. I took a sip of whiskey and felt it flow to my stomach and spread comfortably through my abdomen and chest. I sat in a nearby patio chair and wondered what lay in store for the evening.


I had left open the vertical blinds in front of the sliding glass door between the patio and bedroom, giving a clear, unobstructed view from the patio chair I had left purposely in perfect viewing position, about ten feet from the door. I kept chatting on the telephone, although all I could hear was a dial tone. I had come to the moment of truth. My stomach tumbled and I was shaking a little, but a four-ounce vodka martini I had just finished gave me the courage I needed to continue the drama. I already had all the confidence I needed.

I had arranged it all. It was my show. I was the director, producer and star. I had called Frank Warren a week ago and asked him to take the afternoon off today. I offered https://bursali.org him $50 for the favor and told him to make up a reason. Frank said he would do the favor out of friendship, but would not take my money. Frank said I had tipped him very generously and that it was the least he could do. He didn’t ask for an explanation, nor do I think he really cared. It would give him a good excuse to catch up on daytime television.

Frank and I went way back, long before he worked at Steve Silver’s Pharmacy. I first met him 15 years ago. I was selling premium cable TV packages, door-to-door, and Frank was a TV freak. He had heard the local cable system was expanding their system and couldn’t wait to snap-up two dozen channels. His delivery job at Silver’s was a perfect fit for him and, because of my health problems, we saw each other now and again when he delivered my prescriptions.

Although I felt good, I knew I still needed drugs to feel human. I kept reasonably fit and watched my weight. I missed my husband Jim terribly. I had gotten used to living alone since his death last year, but the surgery and recovery were very difficult without his constant support and attention. I was just to the point of recovery where I could bend and turn a little.

Jim and I could be classified as closet exhibitionists. We enjoyed doing naughty things where there was a chance we might be seen, and a few times, we were. Nothing ever came of it and it was quite exciting for both of us.

We used to play-out fantasies, too. Our favorites were “Zorro and the Maiden” and “The Movie Director and the Porn Star”. I missed our sex and, over the last month, I had masturbated several times, fantasizing about our past. Actually, I was starting to enjoy the masturbation quite a bit.

I had masturbated for Jim many times (his favorite was me standing over his face and masturbating while he looked up at me and masturbated). Now it was the only sex I had and I was getting good at it. I had two favorite vibrators, one with a classic shape and smaller size, black with a gold tip, and one shaped like a finger, especially useful for anal stimulation.

I was ready for something exotic, but I wanted to make it wild and exciting. Steve Silver was just an acquaintance. I had met him a few times, but had never thought of him sexually until he starred in a nighttime dream last week. I never remember much of dreams, but I awoke thinking about him and those thoughts turned into passionate fantasies over the next few days. I decided to act.

I knew Steve drank Bushmill’s, so I bought a bottle for the liquor cabinet. I went shopping and bought a new blouse and skirt, and made a stop at Frederick’s of Hollywood for the more basic essentials.

That afternoon, Steve answered the call himself, just like I knew he would, and told me Frank was off for the afternoon but that he could make the delivery on his way home, at about seven. My plan was working perfectly.

I decided to use the “telephone dodge” to get him into the right place at the right time. He knocked on the door at exactly seven (Steve was always punctual) and I asked him in to wait a moment while I finished an important telephone conversation. I told him to fix a drink and relax on the patio. I turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to answer and trying not to give away my excitement.

Now he was there, he had just taken a seat in the chair I had so carefully placed. I knew this would be the turning point. I had to be smooth, get his attention, and then set the hook. Like I said, I had the confidence, liquor beat down any inhibitions, and it was show time.


It was just as if I had sat down in a movie theater with a wide-screen view. I saw Kate stroll into her bedroom and slowly pace around the bed, talking on the telephone. I was startled at first, and my leg muscles tightened and began to lift me from the chair. But they quickly relaxed and I settled back. My libido and voyeuristic nature had overcome my surprise. The sliding glass door was closed, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the lights were on and I could see clearly.

The bedroom was of moderate size. I could see a vanity on the wall to the right. There was a six-foot walkway and then the foot of the bed. The head of the bed was against the wall to the left. The entrance to the bedroom was to the far right corner. The remainder of the back wall was a closet with mirrored sliding doors. In those doors I could see the remaining wall I could not see directly. Against that wall was a dresser and a lamp in the left corner. The headboards and footboards of the bed were white, ornate tubing resembling a design a blacksmith might make with wrought iron. Painted-porcelain ornaments adorned the bedposts and a comforter in a white duvet covered the bed.

I continued to watch her stroll about the bedroom, smiling and laughing as she talked on the telephone. I decided I never could be lucky enough to get a view into this window while Kate did some exotic dance or such. I had been a voyeur since bursa escort kız I was twelve, when I first peeked into the keyhole of the bathroom door to see what was really between my 17 -year old sister’s legs. The best I could tell was that she had an ample growth of pubic hair, but I never saw any details.

I peeked into the neighbors upstairs windows, into the “girl next door’s” bedroom. The best I got there was a brief look at her bare ass when she accidentally brushed the curtains aside when she pulled off some clothing.

At every chance, whenever there was the possibility of seeing without being seen, I took it. I’m sure I’ve spent a couple of thousand hours waiting for the moment that never came in over thirty years of trying.

In college, I had a view into 18 different rooms of two all-girl dormitories across the street. My two roommates and me kept binoculars nearby. We even had numbered the windows so we could call-out the location of activity and a potential flesh-flash quickly. Although we all bragged about having seen this girl or that girl do one thing or another, we never saw anything anyone else could verify. I believe the dean of women interviewed each girl before assigning her to a dorm room. Those who would qualify for “Religious Training for Virgins” would get a room with windows that opened toward boy’s dormitories. In two years, I never saw more than a fat girl pull her sweater over her head to reveal her bra, then walk away.

Although an admitted voyeur, I never went out of my way to create peeping opportunities. I didn’t choose apartments or homes based on views into other buildings. I didn’t go about at night dressed in dark clothes and hide in bushes. I thought that was far too dangerous and even perverted. If I could see something without breaking the law, then great.

I also have always had a penchant for daytime exhibitionism. I could control daytime flashing in the home. I would leave doors or drapes open and strategically place lights so someone could see in. If a woman or girl passed by or came to the door, I would be naked, masturbating in a place where she might see me. This was all very exiting, but never amounted to a full-on sexual encounter or even a stare. I guess I wanted the excitement but not the cost of being labeled a pervert by the neighbors or business community. That would have been far too great a price to pay for a moment of sexual excitement.

It took about 10 long minutes for Kate to finish her conversation. She put down the telephone on the vanity, walked to the closet, slid open the left-side door and sorted through a few house robes. She pulled out a green one, laid it across the foot of the bed and slid the closet door closed. She stood at the end of the bed and unzipped her skirt.

I wondered if Kate might have forgot I was there! Yes, that must be it! She surely wasn’t going to undress for me. Why would she do that? She must have forgotten!

She slipped off the skirt, folded it and laid it on the vanity. Next, off came the black slip to reveal her nylons. She didn’t wear a garter belt. She wore what looked like panty hose with large openings at the front, sides and back. Suspender hose, I think they call them. Her black panties were very sheer. As she undressed, I saw a direct rear view and could see a front view in the closet-door mirrors. The sight of the crack of her ass and dark pussy hair through her panties gave me an instant erection, although the tail of her blouse hid most of the view.

She was looking up slightly, as if she was deep in thought, and began unbuttoning her blouse, the cuffs first and then the front, from the uppermost button. She undid the last button, opened the blouse, slid it down her shoulders, and stopped with her hands behind her. She had caught her own attention in the mirror and twisted slightly back and forth.

She wore a sheer bra through which I could just see her areolas. I could also tell her breasts were full and her bras needed no padding. She slid the blouse the rest of the way off, opened the closet door, hung the blouse neatly and slid the door closed.

By then, all she wore was a black sheer bra, black sheer panties, black very sheer one-piece suspender panty hose, red shoes with moderate heels, dangling silver earrings, a choker pearl necklace, a gold band bracelet on the left wrist, a gold watch on her right wrist, two rings on each hand, and silver-framed glasses, moderately tinted. Her immaculately styled blonde hair topped off this perfect image.

I drank down the rest of the Bushmill’s, rested my left hand on my cock, and squeezed it through my trousers. I felt a little spurt of precum squirt from my cock into my jockeys. It probably left a telltale wet spot on my trousers, but I was too engrossed to look, nor did I really care.


I had just finished the opening act. I knew the next act would be the one that would determine how the still-unwritten third act would play out. I looked back up into the makeup mirror I had placed above the bursa anal yapan escort closet, hidden from Steve’s sight. I couldn’t see his face, of course, but I could see him from the chest down. He was massaging his cock through his pants!

It was time to go from naughty to erotic. I decided to take off my rings, bracelet and watch. Given the excitement I felt, I might forget about them and hurt myself a little later. I walked over to the vanity, to the end nearest the window, took off the jewelry and started putting it away. The easily recognizable guitar riffs of John Cougar Mellenkamp’s “Hurts so Good” began through the bedroom speakers. I slowly began to dance. You know, the dancing you do in-place from the waist down, when you’re doing something else.

As I put the last ring away, I increased the movement to the rhythm and danced in front of the vanity mirror. Here, Steve was to my right and I could watch myself in the mirror that Steve couldn’t see. I must admit, the time I spent earlier in the day at the beauty shop paid off. I was looking so good, I turned myself on.

The loose sheer bra allowed by breasts to shake and sway with the dance. I moved to enhance the motion. I stepped and moved so Steve got a view from every angle, but kept my gaze in the mirror. I started running my hands over my torso. I slowly cupped by breasts, then moved my hands in small circles down to my tummy. I just grazed my pussy and lightly caressed the inside of my thighs. I danced over to the mirror in the closet doors. That’s where Steve could see me from two angles at once. I could also glance into my spy mirror to keep tabs on my audience.

John Mellankamp closed out his delightful song, then as programmed, ZZ Top stepped in with “Legs” and would follow with “Sharp Dressed Man.” I felt great. I was ready to continue the strip tease. I made sure I was in the right spot for the best view, reached to the center of my back and unhooked my bra. I let the straps slide down my arms while I danced and my tits sprang free. It was glorious. I flung the bra onto the vanity and began massaging my tits. My nipples were hard and the pair stood out like they were begging for more.

I stopped in the perfect place, spread my legs a little, lifted both breasts, one cupped in each hand, dipped my head as close as I could to my chest, and slowly ran my tongue from close to my right collar bone down my right breast to the nipple and sucked it

gently, letting my teeth graze it a little. I repeated the action on my left side. I could feel my pussy getting damp. I closed my eyes and continued the breast massage briefly; I looked in the spy mirror and was gratified to see Steve’s cock out of his pants. It was standing straight up and I could see how it curved. He had one hand on his balls and used the index finger of the other to gently rub the very top of his cock. I wasted not a moment to expose myself to him.


I could hear the stereo through the still-open living room patio door. Just as ZZ started “Legs” I unzipped by trousers, reached into my jockeys and pulled out my cock. It was dripping wet. As I saw Kate unhook her bra, I used the first two fingers of my left hand to gently massage my prostate gland between my balls and ass hole. As she threw the bra aside, I felt another spurt of precum squirt out. When she took a sexy pose and licked her tits, I began spreading the wealth of precum over the head of my cock with the first two fingers of my right hand.

Kate continued massaging her tits while she had her eyes closed. It looked like she was fantasizing about sex and, yes God, please make it so, was going to continue the massage between her legs. I gently gripped my cock with my right hand and began slowly stroking it up and down while barely increasing the pressure of my prostate massage. I moved my hips slightly to the beat of the music. I was ecstatic.

As Kate continued her dance, she put both hands between her legs, put the index fingers of each hand into her panties from the side and started massaging her cunt. She watched herself intently in the closet-door mirror and began exaggerating the back-and-forth motion of her hips in dance. She was so hot I thought I could see steam between her legs. Through her panties, I could see that she was massaging her clit and cunt lips. My mouth began to water.

I watched as she slid her panties over her hips, one hand on each side. As the panties passed her hips, the crotch snapped from between her legs and the panties fell around her ankles. She stepped out of them and never missed a beat, continuing her dance. Her pussy hair was neat and not too thick. I think she must have trimmed it recently. Her naked shape was incredible. Her tits were firm, nipples hard, and even when her legs were together or she took a step, I could see the gap between her legs. Now, with only the suspender pantyhose, shoes and a little jewelry, she was simply outstanding.

She danced to the vanity, bent at the waist and opened the top left drawer. She withdrew from the drawer a tube, a jar and two vibrators. The tube looked liked KY Jelly and the jar was definitely petroleum jelly. One vibrator was beige with a long thin extension on the end that looked like a finger. The other had a gold tip and black body, but was smaller than the vibrators I usually see in adult stores and catalogues.

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