The Old Horny Neighbour Is Tense ! Even Reading A Book At The Weekend Is Not Possible With Him

The old man next door was having a difficult time. His eyes had been wandering for weeks, constantly drawn to his young neighbor’s shapely legs and plump rump that seemed to hypnotically bounce and sway in her tight skirts every time she walked by. It wasn’t until he saw her reading a book on her patio, that his compulsion was confirmed – all he could do was stare at her and imagine running his grimy, gnarled fingers along her smooth, silky thighs.

The old man craned his neck from behind the curtains of his window, peering longingly at the girl. He’d never seen her like this before – her skirt riding up, exposing tantalizing glimpses of her upper thighs. The way she unconsciously crossed and uncrossed her legs gave him fleeting flashes of lacy panties. His breath grew labored, his pulse quickened as he imagined himself diving under that skirt, parting her legs, and delving into her most intimate depths with his tongue and fingers.

“What a whore,” he muttered under his breath, stroking himself through his trousers. “She’s asking for it, showing herself off like that. Such a little slut.”

He hobbled over to his desk, retrieving his binoculars. The lewd old man focused the lenses on her crotch, his hands shaking with anticipatory lust. The sight of her delicate panties strained against the tight red skirt had his palms sweating, his heart racing. He could barely contain himself.

Suddenly, the girl shifted, moving her book to cover her lap. The old man gnashed his teeth with frustration. He couldn’t see her naughty bits anymore! He needed another angle. He needed more!

Stumbling to his back door, he snuck outside. He crept across several lawns and sneaked behind a shrub. Luckily, the young tart still sat with her legs gaping open, engrossed in her filth. The old pervert aimed his binoculars again, brushing aside leaves for a clearer view. Her camel toe was indented into the flimsy fabric of her panties, this time showing him a wet spot. The bulge in his pants throbbed, his briefs tented. He had to touch himself. He couldn’t help it.

The girl shivered, clearly excited herself. She snaked a hand inside her panties, frigging her sopping cunt. At the same time, the old man shoved a hand down his trousers. Both of them moaned together, the girl and the old pervert on the edge.

But just after both Fräulein and Greis crossed the threshold to sweet satisfaction, she stiffened and looked around wildly. Searching.

Had she sensed his lecherous presence? He froze, praying she hadn’t seen him. He held his breath, letting it out slowly as she relaxed back into the chair, lost in her book again. The old coot softened slightly too, rolling the risk of getting caught around in his mind, fantasizing about how she might cry or curse at him, and what he might offer to keep her quiet. He imagined his hand sliding up her thighs, pushing against the little wet patch in her lace panties until the fabric was drenched with her cream…

But that would be asking for trouble, he decided. Better to sneak home. He crept away, scientific instrumental modernistic sexology vol. 37 hidden behind the oleander bushes, spent now but for the nagging frustration that he could have maybe snuck a little closer… cute little playgirl could never win against the natural man, he smirked, eagerly returning to his lonely house, his revolting mind brimming with wicked new schemes.