Watching Jenn


Every morning I go for an early morning jog – it’s the highlight of my day, really. It gives me a chance to collect my thoughts, clear my head and prepare for whatever lies ahead. And my head needed clearing – I’ve not long come out of a doomed relationship with a bloke who turned out to be a neurotic loser, and it took me two tortuous years to work that out.

So now was a time for some clean breaks. He’d moved out of my flat and instead I’d taken in Jenn, a flatmate who worked for some insurance company up the road. She wasn’t really a friend or anything but we co-habited well enough and in fact in any given week we didn’t see that much of each other. I was a very early riser – I like to be jogging by 6.15 before the traffic starts. And I prefer these days to be early to bed – I’ll often be reading in bed by 9.30 and always fall asleep by 10.30.

Jenn though gets up at the last possible moment to get to work, and at weekends she doesn’t emerge from her room until midday. She’s out most evenings and certainly on Friday and Saturday nights, and when she’s in she’ll be parked in front of the TV. All this suits both of us fine. We chat about the usual things – the raciest conversation we ever had was about sports bras. However, if I’m being honest, a little bit of me was fascinated by her. She seemed very serene and happy with her existence and I had just a slight feeling that she might be gay – not that she’d ever tried to chat me up or anything but rather that she never talked about boys, and above her bed I had spotted she had a postcard of Gillian Anderson, from X-Files, and – oh I don’t know; just call it a feeling. Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs and mine was further down the hall so I have no idea who she brought back with her, if indeed she ever had.

Anyway, this one morning I woke as usual at 6pm, got up, splashed my face, changed into my jogging pants and top, and left the house by 6.15. Jenn’s door was closed as usual as I passed it – I always tiptoe because I don’t want to wake her, especially if she’s been on the town the night before. She’s very respectful of how I live and I like to be the same back…

My jog would usually take about an hour – a 20 minute run, grab a juice and scan the papers at the local early morning deli/café, and then a 20 minute run back. However, this particular morning things worked out a bit differently. I’d been running for about 5 minutes when I missed gaziantep yavuzeli escort my footing at a kerb and turned my ankle over a little – nothing worrying but enough to make me stop for a minute or two. I decided, reluctantly, to turn round and walk home. I didn’t want to make my ankle any worse as I was doing a 5k charity run the following weekend, which I was really looking forward to, and it would be daft to test my ankle.

So I got home only about 10 minutes or so after I’d gone out. As usual – more so actually because it wasn’t even 6.30 – I came in quietly and tiptoed upstairs to go and have a quick shower and change into my work clothes for the day.

Half way up the stairs I was surprised to see Jenn’s door ajar – she must have got up for the loo or something. I started to walk past and couldn’t help but glance inside. I stopped dead in my tracks. Jenn was sitting at her computer, completely naked, the early morning sun streaming into her room. I could clearly see on the screen a succession of pornographic images – all women, and all with their legs spread apart and their fingers, or a vibrator, playing with their vaginas. Jenn too had one foot up on her seat and one hand between her own thighs, her other hand working the mouse. I could see the gentle rhythm of her stroking and in the quiet I could hear her breaths.

She obviously thought I’d be gone until at least 7.00 or so. Don’t get me wrong, I do masturbate, although it is only occasionally, and slightly guiltily. I’d been put off sex generally by my ex boyfriend, who wasn’t very interested and when he was, he always turned it into some big deal. My masturbation sessions almost always took place in the shower, when I knew the house was empty (although clearly you can never be too sure!) and in many ways I would convince myself I was just soaping between my legs until I came …

Standing here, watching Jenn and her beautiful naked body, and her fingers working on herself, was lovely, although the moment I realised this, Jenn turned in horror (she must have sensed my presence), and I gasped in horror too and charged down the hallway to my bedroom. Oh god, I thought, this is so embarrassing. I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart beating wildly, having what might even have been a slight panic attack about what to do, what to say the next time I saw Jenn. Perhaps she’d go out gaziantep yeni escort and we could avoid seeing each other for a few days and then pretend nothing happened.

Except then I heard a small knock at the door and Jenn saying quietly “Kath … Kath?” Oh no! “Hallo?” I said. The door opened a few inches and Jenn stood there, in her bathrobe. “Can I come in?” she asked.

“I’m really sorry” I said, “I wasn’t spying, I was just trying to be quiet so that I wouldn’t wake you”. Jenn smiled and looked down. “That’s ok – I feel a bit silly. I just …” She looked as if she was blushing, which I was probably doing too.

“Let’s just forget about it” I said, “it just one of those things …” my voice trailed off because I sounded so lame. Jenn though looked up. “The thing is, Kath” she said, “I find it a bit exciting, I mean you watching me and knowing I was … playing with myself …” I looked at her in stunned silence, and must have blinked a hundred times. She smiled.

“Look” she said, her voice warm and reassuring, “You might hate this, but could you come back into my room and …” she paused for a few seconds, “… watch me some more”. I almost fainted! I had absolutely no idea what to say. And then I heard myself say “Ok”.

I could see Jenn’s whole body relax a little in relief – relief I suppose that I hadn’t been horrified at the thought. I too was amazed that I wasn’t horrified as such, more baffled and, yes, a bit excited. Jenn reached out her hand and I instinctively took it. She gently pulled me to my feet and walked out into the hall and into her bedroom. It was the first time I’d been in her room really, and it was warm and cosy. Her bed was against the wall and there above it was pinned her Gillian Anderson postcard.

“Can you sit down there?” she asked, pointing to the end of the bed. I meekly sat down. “You alright?” Jenn asked, pausing a second. “I … I think so” I said. I watched as Jenn tugged at the cord around her bathrobe, opened it up and then half dropped it, half placed it on the floor, watching me all the time. She had a beautifully trimmed bush, and her body was every bit as lovely as it had seemed before. I envied it. My bush was not nearly as neatly trimmed, and despite my running, I wasn’t the best proportioned of girls.

Jenn climbed onto the bed at the other end, her back against the corner gaziantep zayıf escort of the wall, underneath Ms Anderson. She raised her knees and parted her legs and began immediately to stroke her labia. She used practiced and expert strokes – I thought of my clumsy soaping in the shower – and I felt prickles of heat and stickiness between my own legs. I realised I was still wearing my sweat pants, and I briefly worried that she might see a small wet patch emerging. Now her fingers were starting to work their way inside – one finger, and then two, and at the same time her breaths grew quicker. She started playing with her breasts too, rolling her nipples with the palm of her left hand while her right hand now started on her clit. All the time she watched me intently. “You masturbate too, don’t you?” she asked, her voice become a little husky. I nodded, “I do”. It never occurred to me that it might be a hint. By now I could smell her sex and her movements were becoming more forceful. Her breaths were louder and quicker and for the first time she took her eyes off me and let her head fall back a little.

Her legs began to twitch a little, and then a lot. She appeared to be having an orgasm that rose from deep inside her because her whole body tremored. Her left hand was now clamped to her left breast and the fingers of her right hand worked quickly on her clit. Suddenly she arched her back, looked at me and came with a gasp. I could see her sphincter tightening as by now she had sunk a little lower on the bed. I was dying to thrust my hand between my own legs but somehow I knew I couldn’t do that. She moaned a few times and then stopped her fingers, instead cupping her mound with her whole hand. Beads of sweat were on her forehead, as they must have been mine.

A few seconds later she smiled. “God, that was wonderful … You sure you didn’t mind?”

My mouth was dry so I had to swallow first: “I think I probably enjoyed it!” I was trying to sound carefree and experienced. She smiled again and looked at me a little more intensely. “Do you want to have a go?” My heart was beating so loudly I could almost hear it. “I … don’t think I could do that” I said, and then hurriedly added: “But honestly, I did enjoy it and I’m glad … you did … too”. I was sounding lame again. She smiled, in the way a big sister would do to a fairly useless kid sister. And then she moved forward and kissed me gently on the lips. I could smell her aroma even more strongly now, and daren’t look at my sweat pants because they were bound to have a patch between the legs now.

“Well” she said, “Can we carry on just as we were before this morning?”

“Of course …”

“But can we perhaps do … this … again sometime …?”

Her niceness made me calmer. I nodded. “yes please” I said.

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