The Dare That Led Me to the Forbidden Window

Hi again. I’m Camila, and I’m back to tell you about another one of my nights, one of those that still sends a shiver through me when I remember it. I know several of you have read what I write, and you have no idea what that does to me: thinking there are people who know my secret, who imagine me out there, alone and with nothing on, turns me on just as much as actually going out. So let’s say you’ve given me more than one orgasm without even knowing it.

A couple of weeks had gone by since the last time, that night when I touched myself with my ass pointed toward the street and a couple of people managed to see me as they passed. After that, my usual walks felt too short. I kept going out naked onto the land, yes, feeling the midnight air on my breasts and between my legs, but just walking and looking at the darkened lights of the other houses no longer did it for me.

I needed a new risk. And that’s how I started inventing dares for myself.

If I’m going to do it, let it be truly dangerous.

The one that night had been carefully planned. I put on a pair of thick stockings that reached mid-calf, almost like lingerie ones but good for moving around without my feet making any noise on the ground. Over that, a very short black skirt I’d kept from my school days, one that no longer fit me properly and left half my ass bare. For my walks, it was perfect. And on top, a tiny buttoned top, one of those that opens with a tug and really doesn’t cover much at all.

The plan was to cross the whole property from my door to the farthest end, leaving one item of clothing at each stop. That part I already knew. The new part, the one that had made me tremble while I lay thinking about it in bed, was the return trip. On the way back I was supposed to go on all fours, like an animal, picking up the clothes I’d abandoned and stuffing them into a small backpack strapped at my waist. Completely naked, crawling the whole way, without getting up.

And there was one extra condition. One stretch of the path was right in front of the huge picture window in the owners’ house. On other nights I’d crouch as I passed there, make myself small in the shadows. Not this time. This time I had to cross upright, completely exposed, offering myself to the glass in case anyone looked out. In my head, every grain of danger turned into pleasure.

***

I went out after midnight. The first thing I noticed was that one of my neighbors had their lights on and music could be heard, voices, laughter. A get-together. I didn’t give it much thought: I’d already gone out other times with neighbors awake, it was enough to avoid their windows. Even so, I felt my heart start racing ahead of time.

My first stop was the line where I hung clothes. That’s where I left the top. Taking it off and ending up naked from the waist up under the open sky sent a spasm shooting up from my belly. It’s something I can’t quite explain: the exact moment when the last piece of fabric falls away and the air touches skin no one should see. I slipped two fingers between my legs, slowly, and kept moving like that, touching myself with every step.

I reached a kind of shed where they keep tools and an old ladder. That’s where I left the skirt. With that, my ass was completely exposed. I went on to the back gate, where I abandoned the stockings, and by then I’d touched myself so much that the orgasm was already hovering, close, waiting for one mistake. I forced myself to hold it back. I wanted it to hit at the worst possible place.

At the far end of the property I stopped. I looked around. Only the party house was still lit, and now the music was louder. I knelt slowly on the cold earth. Before starting back, I gave myself a moment: I lifted my hips, shoved my fingers all the way in, pulled them out shining, and brought them to my mouth. I squeezed my breasts. And when I was ready, I started crawling.

I wiggled my ass with every step, slow, offered up, as if I wanted someone to appear at that very second and take me without asking. Available to the world, to whoever.

***

Every movement in that position was a spark. I made my way to the big house where they rent rooms, passed under the same staircase from my first nights, and smiled to myself, in on my own madness. Every so often I’d stop in some dark corner, spread my legs, shove three fingers deep while holding back my moans, lick them, and keep going.

Then I reached the stretch by the main house. I stood up very slowly. I looked inside: no one. And I walked on my feet, at a slow pace, as if I owned the place, as if I had nothing to hide. Inside, my heart was trying to burst out of my chest. As soon as I passed that point, I dropped back down to all fours and kept going, gasping from what I’d just done. If someone had seen me cross upright and naked in front of that house, it would have been over. And I’d done it anyway.

I can’t believe how far I go just to feel this.

I kept going until the houses facing each other. I stopped in the same spot as last time, but this time the other way around: my ass pointed toward the houses, my face toward the back. If anyone looked out from any angle, chances were they’d see me with my fingers inside me. Before I’d hidden in the shadows. Now I was offering myself on purpose, and that was infinitely hotter. I touched myself so much I was right on the edge again, so I forced myself to stop once more. I wanted to save myself for the end.

I crawled to my door. I opened it just enough and stretched out my arm to reach the backpack. But the first thing my hand touched wasn’t the backpack, it was the cream jar. The same one I’d used another night to make myself feel full. The moment I saw it, an idea lodged in my head and I couldn’t get it out: I didn’t want to use it inside the house. I wanted to take it outside. To a dangerous place. To the big house’s picture window.

Just imagining myself there, in front of the glass, nearly made me come right then and there. In a trance, I shoved the jar into the backpack, fastened it around my waist, left the door ajar, and started back for my things, my sex dripping with every sway.

***

I picked up the top from the line and stuffed it away quickly. As I moved toward the shed, I couldn’t think about anything except touching myself against that window. I knew it was insane. I didn’t care. I was already a slave to my own desire.

I took the skirt to put it away, and just then I heard voices: the people from the party were coming out. In pure panic, I shoved myself as best I could into the shed, bent over, in the dark. I couldn’t fit on all fours, so I had to stay standing, pressed against the tools, peering through the crack in the door. They were guests going out to smoke. The place smelled of damp and dust, and I was terrified there might be spiders, but I couldn’t move. Those obstacles, far from killing my arousal, always turned me on more: an extra dose of danger.

When I saw them get distracted, I slipped out quietly and kept going. The problem was that now I had to pass the main gate, in full view of the visitors. I got as close as I could and decided to wait a few minutes. And since I was already completely lost in heat, I took out the jar, slid it inside me slowly, and started moving while biting my own arm so I wouldn’t make a sound. Just a minute of stolen pleasure in the dark, a few meters from people who had no idea I was there.

When they finally finished smoking and went back inside, I took the jar out and licked it clean. I picked up the stockings, put them away, and then only one thing was left: get to the picture window and finish myself right there.

***

I slipped along the outside of the party house to get there before anything else. When I was in front of the huge pane of glass, my whole body prickled. I leaned back against a concrete column, not caring about the stones under my legs, and pushed the jar inside me again. I started moving fast, frantically, right in the most exposed spot on the whole property. I looked toward the window and all I saw was my own reflection: sweat on my face, my mouth open, an expression I didn’t recognize as mine. Instead of stopping me, that image drove me harder.

I spread my legs as wide as I could. I took the stockings out of the backpack and stuffed them in my mouth so I wouldn’t scream, but even then I still couldn’t quite stay silent. One hand worked the jar in and out, the other squeezed one breast, twisting myself against the column, until the orgasm split me in two.

—Ah… —escaped me, muffled—. So good…

I whispered it softly while moving the jar just a little, stretching the spasms, massaging myself to wring out every second of that brutal pleasure. It was one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

And then, still trembling, I saw the light come on in the second floor of the big house. Then, almost immediately, the light on the staircase that led straight to the window where I was stretched out.

***

My heart stopped. As best I could, I crawled on all fours to the corner of the house, praying they hadn’t heard me, my legs still weak from the orgasm. I hid as well as I could and looked. It was the owner of the property. He came down, walked straight to the party house, and from what I understood, he asked them to turn off the music and stop making a racket, because after a while everything went quiet and people started leaving.

I saw him come back. And then he stopped. Right where I had been. He bent down, picked something up from the ground, and threw it in the trash. It was my cream jar. In my panic I’d left it abandoned among the stones, and now I was losing it forever. I felt like laughing and dying at the same time. Though, well, that jar had given me an orgasm I’ll never forget.

I waited for the man to go back up and for the lights to go out. I didn’t go back by the window, obviously, but instead slipped around the back of the big house until I reached, one last time, my door. I went in, closed it, and collapsed to the floor with my back against the wall, smiling like an idiot. Dare accomplished.

That was the night of my first real dare. After that many more came, and one day I’ll tell you how the “accessories” I added to my walks came into my life, the nighttime ones and others that weren’t so nighttime. But those are stories for another time.

I truly hope you enjoy reading me as much as I enjoyed that early morning. Sorry this one got so long, but it was a very intense night and I was still a novice at this whole thing of daring myself. Kisses to you all.