Peeping

I meant to watch the eclipse. One small adjustment of the telescope and there they were instead—the couple next door, bodies moving like they forgot anyone else existed. Sunlight slid over her pale skin while his darker hand gripped her hip. Every thrust made her blonde hair spill across the sheets. My own body answered fast. Heat gathered between my legs, soaking the thin cotton pressed against me. I shifted, felt the wet cling, and knew there was no stopping it. My fingers slipped inside my panties, found slick folds, and began a slow, steady circle. I matched the rhythm of their hips through the lens. When he pulled her hair and she arched, I pressed harder. Wet sounds rose from my own hand. I bit my lip to stay quiet, eyes never leaving them, breath getting shorter with every stroke.