Boy Next Door

Chapter Two-4

Just like spying young Brian, upon whom I’m about to turn the tables with a vengeance, I pause to make certain I’m unobserved. Then I slip carefully through chairs and tables and steal quietly across the lawn.

The moon is still full and bright overhead, and I reach the tree house without incident. Heart pounding excitedly, I climb up and inside. Thanks to that moon, and the tree house’ big windows and open trap door, it is light enough to see – and hopefully record – almost everything but the darkest corners. Still being supremely careful to disturb nothing, I move to one of these and retrieve my camera.

The little ‘record’ light is still glowing, as is the ‘power’ one – though this is now blinking, indicating that the charge is getting low. No matter: I’ve got what I needed. I saw Brian slinking out here earlier before I put on tonight’s extremely arousing and satisfying show. Now to see just how naughty he’s been all this time… Switching off the camera, I slip back out into the balmy summer night and hurry quietly back up to my bedroom.

Plugging the camera into my laptop, I upload the data and click on the file. I have to jump past all the hours of the day, but at last I find the point where Brian enters the tree house. Though dim, the image is sufficient to make him clearly recognizable as he settles into his chair. From the shirt pocket of his pajamas he takes out a little baggie of pot, loads the pipe and smokes it. Got you, you little criminal! Then he fiddles aimlessly with his equipment for a little while before suddenly coming to attention.

Clearly I’ve just entered the bedroom. Hastily Brian slides his pajama pants down and puts his eyes to the binoculars. Already I can see his p***s poking up, and this climbs quickly upright until it’s jutting stiffly from his lap. At this point I just have to pause the video and even use the zoom function.

Laugh if you want, but I’ve never seen an erect c**k before. The one time Jim and I tried to get intimate (the night of our Senior Prom) was an abject failure. Now I stare at Brian’s organ, shamelessly fascinated. Heart pounding alarmingly, my face burning and my absurd n*****s tingling, I imagine playing with it, sucking on it, and feeling it stabbing into me. Oh damn, I can’t wait! Still the question remains: is Brian aroused by me, or just the illicit thrill of peeping? At last I resume the playback. And within minutes I have my answer. I won’t even need to interrogate him to find out.

Brian starts playing with himself, first fondling and then slowly stroking his c**k up and down. Then he starts talking to himself too – or actually to me, though he knows (or at least thinks he does) that I can’t possibly hear him.

“Oh my gorgeous Goddess, look at you! I swear, I would worship at your feet for all eternity if I could touch those incredible breasts just once! Who needs Jesus with such a Supreme Being right next door? Send me to hell forever for it, but I could never stop watching you!”

My jaw sags open in disbelief.

It’s not just the astounding words themselves that bowl me over, but the undeniable fervency of their delivery. I have to click back and listen to them again and again before I can truly credit what I’m hearing.

This hunky young stud, captain of the football team and obvious teenage heartthrob thinks I’m not just passably attractive but gorgeous? How can that be? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous! No one (except for that self-interested clerk) has ever even hinted that I might be pretty. My hair is lank and unappealing, my eyes the most ordinary brown, my face strictly plain-Jane, my body skinny and without tone and my breasts frankly hideous. Yet here is just the kind of dreamboat guy that wouldn’t spare me a glance in high school claiming that he’s willing to suffer eternal damnation to keep ogling me. He’s so enamored of my worst flaw that he swears he’d worship me forever for just the briefest touch of my breasts! I’m so flabbergasted that at first I don’t know how to react.

Elation bubbles up repeatedly inside me only to collapse back into confusion and disbelief each time. Is this guy nuts, besotted by his years of spying, or have I and my parents and everyone else been somehow wrong about me? Could that clerk possibly have been telling the truth? At last I determine that I indeed need to in interrogate Brian, and more than ever.

Maybe he was just exaggerating in the heat of the moment. Still I can’t help playing that brief bit of video over again. And now that my shock has subsided I grin at both his admissions and their blasphemous tenor.

To start with, beyond the evidence of dope-smoking, spying and onanism I now have on him, there is also this rather extreme impiety. Naughty, young Brian won’t want to risk his fundamentalist parents and community hearing him talking that way at all! And the impiety itself is vastly encouraging. It seems I judged him correctly: I’m not the only one around here merely feigning conservative religious values. Seducing or extorting young Brian into sin won’t require subverting any ridiculously benighted spiritual convictions. Hell, judging by this outburst I won’t have to seduce or extort him into anything, not even the humiliating punishments I have planned. He ought to be putty in my hands from the start.

Grinning and shivering and gloating to myself, I watch the rest of the file through. By the time Brian cries out and ejaculates (again I watch this in fascinated slow motion over and over) I’m so horny and excited I’m squirming in my seat.

Over the coming week I’m going to have to download and master some editing software, so that I can combine and condense all my evidence into one coherent and utterly damning file. I must also research and purchase that most crucial item. But for the time being I need to get back into bed and masturbate again. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to get back to sleep.