The Neighbor Watched Us from His Rooftop

We lived in a two-story house in a quiet neighborhood, and our bedroom window faced the neighbor’s rooftop exactly. He used it as a clothesline, so he hardly ever went up there, but from up above you could see straight into our room and, above all, the bed, which was right in front. That’s why we almost always kept the curtains closed.

My name is Mariela, though my husband always called me Mar. I’m short, neither thin nor chubby, with big breasts and fair skin. Andrés, my husband, is average height, dark-skinned, and good-looking. We’d been together for years and still wanted each other like we had on the first day.

The neighbor lived alone. He was a young guy, athletic, quiet, and polite whenever we crossed paths on the street. We had never thought of him as anything more than someone to exchange a friendly hello with. Until that afternoon.

***

It was hot and we had the window open, though with the curtains drawn. I was riding Andrés, moving slowly, moaning softly because I could feel my orgasm starting to approach. Then we heard some noises on the other side of the wall, up on the rooftop.

I slowed down at once and went still. Andrés held my hips gently.

“I think he went up to hang something out,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter, keep going. With the curtains closed, nothing can be seen.”

“It can’t be seen, but it can be heard,” I told him in a low voice. “He’s going to hear me moan.”

“So what? It’s normal for a couple to make love. He’s grown, he knows about these things.” He smiled faintly and lowered his voice even more. “Besides, you’ve got your back to the window. Even if the curtains were see-through, he’d only see you riding with your back turned.”

“Don’t be like that, let’s just wait until he leaves.”

But that comment, instead of putting me off, turned me on. Without meaning to, I imagined the neighbor out there, motionless, holding his breath so he could hear my moans better. I imagined him wondering whether I was naked, whether my legs were open, whether it would be worth continuing to stare at that closed window.

A little later we heard his footsteps moving away and the door to his rooftop closing. We kept going, but nothing was the same after that. I moved harder, faster, until I came with a moan I didn’t bother holding back.

Let him hear it, I thought. Let him be left wanting.

Andrés noticed everything. While we caught our breath, he whispered in my ear that who knows how many times that guy must have imagined this exact moment. That thought haunted me for days.

***

One morning, near noon, I was alone at home. I came out of the shower wrapped in a towel and, without thinking, left the curtains open so light would come in. At that hour the neighbor was never there; he was at work, or so I assumed.

I turned on the speaker, put on music, and started my routine in front of the mirror. I had shaved, so I was rubbing cream on myself slowly so I wouldn’t irritate my skin. I let the towel drop. I was absorbed, distracted, spreading cream over my breasts when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shadow near the window.

I snapped my head around. And there he was.

Standing on his rooftop, completely still, looking at me naked with no attempt to hide it. His eyes were fixed on me. I crouched instinctively, crossed my arms over my chest, and pressed my legs together; it was the only thing I could think of because I couldn’t reach the curtain. I managed to notice that he was wearing shorts and that something was bulging between his legs.

He only smiled at me. A brief smile, almost shy, and then he left right away.

I ran to close the curtains, my heart pounding. I was in shock, trembling, but then Andrés’s words came rushing back to me. The neighbor hadn’t just imagined me: now he had seen me completely. How long had he been there? Minutes earlier I’d had my legs open in front of that window while I put on cream. How much had he managed to see? Would he have run downstairs to touch himself thinking of me?

And while those questions piled up in my head, almost without realizing it, my hand was already between my legs.

I sat on the edge of the bed and touched myself slowly, with my other hand playing with a nipple. I thought about his smile, the bulge in his shorts, about whether at that very moment he might be doing the same thing a few meters from me, separated only by a wall. I thought about what his young body would be like, about what he might be imagining. The orgasm hit me so hard I had to bite my lip not to scream.

I wanted to tell Andrés that night. I didn’t dare. I didn’t know how he would take it that another man had seen what was only his.

***

But something in me had changed, and he noticed it without knowing why. From then on, every time we made love, Andrés would say things in my ear that had once been just a game and now melted me.

“Imagine the neighbor is hearing you moan right now,” he whispered. “Imagine if he could see us. Look at those breasts he’d be missing.”

I bit my tongue, because what he didn’t know was that the neighbor no longer had to imagine anything: he’d already seen me completely. Sometimes we heard his footsteps on the rooftop, right when we were starting, and the mere idea that he was out there, tuned in to every sound, brought me to the edge right away.

Until one late night, everything changed. Andrés was especially aroused, or maybe he decided it was time to take things one step further. He had me pierced and I was on my back against the mattress when he stopped.

“Mar, can I open the curtains? It’s unbearably hot and no air’s coming in.”

“No, what are you thinking? The neighbor might see us.”

“I don’t think he’s home, I haven’t heard anything. And you always ride with your back to the window. If I see him coming up, I’ll cover you right away and he won’t see a thing.”

I thought about it for a second. Just one second.

“All right,” I said, and my own voice sounded strange to me. “But stay alert. You don’t want him seeing your wife riding you.”

Andrés got up, hard as a rock, and pulled the curtains aside. Night came in with a warm breeze. I stayed on my back, legs open, waiting for him. He came back to the bed, I lifted my knees, and let him enter me again. He kept at it for a while, thrusting slowly, until he asked me to climb on top.

“Ride me, I love seeing your tits from underneath.”

I settled over him and started moving. I came to my first orgasm quickly, intensely. And just then I felt Andrés cover me with the sheet, but at the same time he was holding me in an embrace.

“What is it, love?” I panted.

“I think the neighbor came up. I can’t see well, I saw a shadow. Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Better close the window, I’d be embarrassed if he saw me if it’s him.”

“It’s fine. I told you, he’d only see your back and the movement of your hips. It’s dark in here, I don’t think he can make out much. But if you want, I’ll get up and close it.”

“Are you sure, Andrés?”

“Sure. You’re covered, now it shows even less. Keep going, love, it’s fine.”

I didn’t answer. I started moving over him again, slowly at first, then with real hunger. But I noticed Andrés turning his head again and again toward the window.

“He’s there, isn’t he?” I asked, without stopping riding him.

“Yes, love. But don’t worry, he can’t see well. Let him imagine it and jerk off in your honor.”

I said nothing. I just moved my hips faster, moaning louder, knowing every sound went through the window and reached him. Then Andrés yanked the sheet away and left me uncovered.

“Go on, beautiful, let him see you ride.”

“Is he watching?” I asked him, and the question itself was turning me on. “Is he seeing your wife?”

“Yes, love. He’s watching you move.”

Something broke inside me, in the best possible way. Shame turned into something else, into a thick heat rising from my belly. I leaned forward and let Andrés kiss and bite my breasts. Then he parted my buttocks with his hands.

“Let him see me fucking you,” he said.

“Yes, whatever you want,” I answered, and I no longer recognized my own voice.

He drove into me hard from below, so fast the room filled with wet sounds. I moaned without shame, repeating yes, more, harder, knowing that outside, in the rooftop darkness, someone was drinking in every second.

I came again, for a very long time, clinging to my husband’s chest. When I recovered, Andrés asked me to turn around, to ride him facing the window.

“Let him see you from the front. Let him see those tits.”

I did it. I sat up, glanced toward the glass, and barely made out a silhouette, a shadow standing very close to our window. I pretended not to see it. I sat back down on Andrés, now facing outward, offering myself whole to that gaze I couldn’t see but felt on my skin like a caress.

“Lean back a little so he can see better,” my husband told me.

I obeyed every word, because each idea of his aroused me more than the last. The dim light in the room barely allowed the outside to be made out, so I never got to see the neighbor’s face. And maybe it was better that way. The mystery made everything more intense.

“Look how beautiful you are, love,” Andrés murmured. “I can already imagine the feast that bastard’s getting.”

We stayed like that a good while, until he put me on all fours with my back to him, my face toward the window. Between the slap of his hips against me, between my own moans, I managed to hear another sound from the other side of the wall: a muffled, rough gasp that was neither mine nor my husband’s.

The neighbor was reaching the end. And I knew it.

Something wild took over me. I started begging out loud, not really knowing for whom, for them both to come, not to hold back. Andrés let himself go with a groan at the exact moment that, on the other side of the window, a suppressed moan confirmed the boy had finished too. Two men finishing for me at the same time, separated by a wall. That thought made me explode in the most intense orgasm I remember.

***

We turned everything off and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, without saying a word. The next morning, Andrés didn’t ask anything and I didn’t say anything. He spoke to me as always, with a naturalness that took away the last drop of guilt.

We never talked about what happened that night, but we both knew that something between us and that window had changed forever. And, honestly, it wasn’t the last time we left the curtains open.