Wendy, an Old Favorite Wendy, an Old Favorite Wendy. I knew her name only
because I once heard her husband call her that one warm fall evening. Their
windows were open, and I was sitting silently in the tree outside their
second-floor bedroom window. Radical? Perhaps, but you should have seen Wendy.
At the time, I was living in a semi-rural area just outside a major
metropolitan area. I was renting a house for a year while commuting to work a
considerable distance every day. I was used to getting home late in the day.
Pining for exercise, I ran in the evening before I ate dinner. As the days
grew shorter, I soon found myself running in the dark. Though I had taken up
running for exercise, my primary motivation quickly became taking advantage of
the ample opportunities for peeping-and-hiding available in my immediate
neighborhood. Like me, a lot of people in the neighborhood were young
professionals who commuted equally long distances to the city. And came home
at night for dinner and relaxation. I assume that the semi-rural setting where
everyone had lots of land and no immediate neighbors encouraged people to skip
the hassle of lowering curtains. From what I could gather from my visits,
Wendy's husband traveled a lot. And when he wasn't around, which was often,
her idea of relaxing on a warm summer evening was walking around the upstairs
nude after her shower, with all the blinds open. When the weather was warm,
she would do that often for a half-hour or more. In the winter, not as long,
but still a pleasant period. And a spectacular body she had, making my tree
climbing a must. Allow me to explain. I actually kind of fell into it. As I
ran by one evening in the midst of a five-mile run, I briefly glimpsed her
nakedness in the second floor bathroom window and stopped dead in my tracks.
It was a moonless night. Like everyone else in the neighborhood, there were no
houses near hers. I started looking for my angles. The pine tree ‹ easy to
climb, with ladder-like branches ‹ was a natural choice, especially since it
was within 15 feet of the master bedroom window to the left, the bathroom
window directly in front, and a second bedroom to the right. There must have
been nights when I spent up to 45 minutes sitting in that tree. The shows were
excellent. I couldn't see her in the shower, but when she got out and dried
off, she would spend many minutes primping at the sink in front of the mirror,
so I could see her clearly from the waist up in naked profile in the strong
lights over her bathroom mirror, with all the subtle little movements of her
medium-sized breasts fully visible. Though not as fulfilling as my ³beautiful
landlady,² Wendy nevertheless was a treasure to behold with a near-perfect
body and lengthy shows. One of the best shows was the time her new puppy had
an accident on the floor of the second bedroom and she cursed to herself while
cleaning it up. She was totally nude, of course. The accident had occurred
right in my line of vision and I didn't miss any of clean-up. Bending over
time after time with paper towels and cleaning fluids, I got several beautiful
angles, as you might imagine. She was rather tall, with long legs and a
beautiful rear end. She was slender with breasts I would guess at a C cup
size. Just the size I like best. I loved watching that bob and jiggle as she
scrubbed at the floor. Wendy's house was a half-mile down the road from mine
and I got to know here schedule fairly well. So at the appointed hour, I would
put on my running shoes, etc., and take off for her house, my heart racing in
anticipation. She rarely let me down, though there were some evenings when I
had to wait for her to get in the shower, sometimes as long as a half-hour.
But as you know, patience is a virtue in this business.

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 My patience has paid
me many dividends over the years. As you may have surmised, she was not my
only nakedly parading neighbor. On the evenings when Wendy was traveling, or
just not home for unknown reasons, I was crest-fallen. But being enterprising,
I had identified other neighbors for visiting. I had two favorites among the
also-rans. I liked visiting the first-floor bedroom window of the 18-year-old
girl next door. She used to play air guitar in the nude in her room with her
stereo at full tilt. That was quite fun. She would jiggle her breasts
purposely in time with the music, all the while watching herself in the
mirror. Put on quite a show for herself ‹ and me too! She did that and
variations of it frequently, and I checked her window on my way to and from
Wendy's house every night. I once got to watch her masturbate, something she
thoroughly enjoyed ‹ as did I. Still another neighbor gave me occasional shows
showering in her downstairs bathroom. It was one of those stalls with a glass
door, so I could watch her until it steamed up. Afterwards, she would primp at
the sink in front of the mirror, sideways to me. I was right outside the
window, so that I was no more than five feet away from her nakedness. Though
not well-endowed in the chest area, she nevertheless had full nipples and a
nice bush, which were enjoyable to look at. In the year that I lived there and
over the many viewings of various neighbors ‹ these three being my favorites ‹
I had only two close calls. The woman with the downstairs bathroom lived there
with her husband. They had a large dog who the husband took for evening walks.
I frequently saw them out when I was running and we would greet each other. I
thought I had my visits timed to coincide after the walks, but one night, I
misjudged it. I was all set just as she stepped into the shower. And suddenly
the adjacent back door opened and the dog bounded out into the night, followed
closely by the husband. I held my breath, certain the dog would notice me,
even though I was well hidden in a large bush next to the house. But he ran
right past me and so did the husband. I was so rattled, I didn't hang around
for the show but departed when man and dog were out of ear shot. Another young
woman up the road, whom I took to be in her early 20's, tended her horses in
the evenings. She had a little farm dog, you know, the loud and busy type. She
would retire inside after watering the horses, sometimes showering but more
often just going to her second floor bedroom and changing into her nightgown.
I used the tall fir tree outside her bedroom window as my viewing platform,
and I managed to get in a half-dozen good viewings over the course of the
year. One night, Wendy wasn't home, so I visited the horse lady who lived next
door. As I ran by, I could see she was in the barn with the horses and the
dog. I climbed the tree in anticipation of a show. When she and the dog came
out of the barn, I held my breath and sat absolutely still. I was about 12 or
15 feet off the ground. The dog was wandering around, sniffing everything as
dogs do, and got close to my tree. He stopped, and I could hear him sniff
several times deeply. Then he set up a howl, baying up at me! The woman came
over to see what he was barking about. She couldn't see me, I'm sure, but she
couldn't figure out what the dog was upset about. She must have figured it was
a coon or some other critter because she cursed the dog and dragged him
inside. He snarled and barked the whole way. Whew! And then she gave me a
great, long show, walking around the room naked for a few minutes while she
looked for something. I felt my fear and patience had been vindicated. 

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