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being served by this young Adonis who made no demands and postponed his own obvious need felt a little surreal. A little amazing. And as Carla watched, her panties grew embarrassingly wet.
    Jake stopped rubbing his partner and lowered his face between her thighs. While still working the dildo in and out, Jake kissed her there like Carla dreamed men would kiss her mouth. Tender but ravenous, sensual but needy. With his free hand he cupped her bottom, pressing her into his lips and tongue, making the woman arch her back and pull against her restraints. She leaned her head back and cried out again, longer and louder than before, and that’s when Carla noticed the woman’s face.
    She was older. Not just Carla’s age, but at least twenty years older than that.
    The woman cried out again. “Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!”
    “Fuck me,” Carla whispered in disbelief. “He’s banging Mrs. Claus.”
    Jake continued to go at it, and Carla was rooted there, transfixed, getting more and more turned on. When the older woman whimpered, Carla felt herself whimpering as well.
    Loudly whimpering.
    Jake lifted his head and turned in the direction of the window. His eyes locked with Carla’s for one second, two, and then his right lid lowered in a wink.
    Carla froze, wishing she could disappear, hide. She spun away from the window and dashed across the yard to her house. Once inside she flipped the deadbolt and braced her back up against the door. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart a hummingbird trapped in a too-small cage.
    He saw me.
    Jake saw me.
    He looked right at me.
    But it was more than that. More than her blatant voyeurism, her invasion of privacy, her being a terrible neighbor.
    He heard me whimper. He knew how watching him made me feel.
    Carla closed her eyes, seeing the scene again in her mind’s eye. The expression on the older woman’s face, a contortion of ecstasy Carla couldn’t even dream of knowing. The way Jake expertly worked her body, playing her like she was a musical instrument and he was a virtuoso. How he selflessly put the woman’s needs before his. And her age! She could have been his grandmother. What was a hot stud doing with a mature woman like that?
    But then, Carla knew what he was doing. She’d seen the woman’s expression, heard her screams. Jake was driving her insane with pleasure. Working the dildo in and out. Caressing her folds with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Slowly. Sensually. Coaxing the cries from her, then demanding them. And with her wrists and ankles bound, the woman couldn’t escape, couldn’t get away, couldn’t even close her thighs. Much as she strained and pleaded and cried out, she was at Jake’s mercy, totally open to him.
    Carla moaned and realized her fingers had found their way to her crotch, and she was stroking herself through her clothing. Embarrassed, she glanced around the foyer, as if someone might be watching, even though she knew no one was there. Then she unbuttoned her trousers and lowered the fly enough to slide her hand inside.
    Her fingers felt cool against her abdomen. She moved them lower, under the waistband of her panties. To the wetness between her legs.
    Using the pad of her index finger, she stroked back and forth, then moved in circles over her slick heat. She brought her other hand to a breast, teasing the nipple through bra and blouse, fingernails rasping the fabric covering her hard peak.
    She didn’t have to close her eyes to imagine herself tied to Jake’s bed. It was all she could think of, all she could feel. Having him tie her, lick her, push the toy deep inside, deliciously cruel.
    How long had that woman been bound? An hour? Two? Three? What other perverted things had Jake done to her while she begged, helpless, for release? What perverted things was he doing now?
    Carla’s orgasm built strongly, then overtook her with a shudder. Clenching her hand between her thighs, she kept moving her finger as long as she could stand it, mouth