**Hotel Voyeur**

I didn’t mean to spy on her. But when I stepped out onto the hotel balcony to smoke, the first thing I saw was her—a brunette in the window directly across from mine, framed by the dim gold glow of her bedside lamp. She was younger than me, maybe mid-twenties, with full breasts barely hidden by a flimsy tank top. Her fingers trailed lazily down her stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of her panties as she stretched out on the bed.

I should’ve looked away. But my dick twitched hard in my pants, and I didn’t.

She knew she was being watched. I could tell by the way her hips lifted slightly off the mattress, how her fingers pressed harder between her thighs. Her head tipped back, lips parting on a soft sigh as she rubbed slow circles over her panties. Then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers under the fabric and pulled them down her legs, kicking them onto the floor.

Fuck.

Her pussy was bare, glistening already as she spread her thighs wider. One hand cupped her breast, pinching her nipple through the thin fabric, while the other slid straight between her legs. Two fingers pressed into her folds, dragging through the wetness before circling her clit in tight, deliberate strokes. My cock strained against my zipper, and I unbuttoned my jeans just to ease the pressure, watching as her body moved with every touch.

She bit her lip, her fingers moving faster. The wet sound of her fucking herself carried faintly across the courtyard, mixing with her soft moans. I wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking in time with her rhythm, imagining it was my fingers instead of hers working her clit, my dick pushing inside that tight, slick heat.

Then she looked right at me.

Her gaze locked onto mine through the window, dark and heated, as she lifted her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean. My balls tightened. I didn’t stop jerking off—neither did she. Her legs spread wider, knees falling open as she plunged two fingers deep into her pussy, her hips bucking off the bed.

“Fuck,” I muttered, thumb smearing pre-cum over the head of my cock as I stroked harder.

She arched, her free hand tugging her tank top down until her tits spilled out, nipples hard and begging to be touched. I wanted to drag my tongue over them, bite them, feel her grind against me as she came. Her fingers moved faster, fucking in and out of her cunt while her thumb worked her clit in rough little circles.

I could tell she was close. Her breathing turned ragged, her thighs trembling. When she came, it was with a sharp cry, her back bowing off the bed as her pussy clenched around her fingers. I groaned, tightening my grip as I watched her ride it out, her body shaking with pleasure.

Then—still holding my gaze—she crooked her fingers inside herself, drawing them out slowly, glistening. She brought them to her lips again, sucking them clean with a satisfied smirk.

I didn’t last. My orgasm hit me hard, spilling over my fist as I bit back a groan, hips jerking into my own grip.

When I looked up again, she was gone. The lamp flicked off.

But the memory of her—hell, I’d be jerking off to that for weeks.