Spying on My Neighbor's Kinky Fling

It was a humid summer night, the kind where the air felt heavy and restless. I’d moved into the old brick apartment building a month ago, still getting used to the creaky floors and thin walls. My neighbor across the courtyard, Elise, was a mystery—mid-30s, sharp-witted, with a laugh that carried through the open windows. I’d seen her with a guy a few times, some tall dude with tattoos and a cocky grin, but we’d only exchanged nods in the hallway. That night, though, I saw a lot more.

I was on my couch, nursing a beer and scrolling through my phone, when a soft moan drifted through my open window. Curious, I glanced out, my eyes drawn to Elise’s apartment. Her curtains were parted just enough, and her bedroom light cast a warm glow. I should’ve looked away, but the sight of her stopped me cold. She was standing in the middle of her room, wearing a black lace lingerie set, her wrists bound behind her with a red silk rope. The tattooed guy—Marc, I’d heard her call him—was circling her, a leather whip dangling from his hand.

“Fuck, Elise, you look good like this,” Marc said, his voice low and rough, carrying faintly across the courtyard. My heart kicked up, guilt and thrill battling in my chest. I knew I shouldn’t watch, but my feet stayed glued to the floor, my eyes locked on them.

Elise smirked, her head tilting defiantly. “You gonna keep talking, or do something about it?” Her voice was teasing, but there was a hungry edge to it, like she was daring him.

I leaned closer to the window, careful to stay in the shadows. Marc stepped behind her, trailing the whip’s tip along her spine. She shivered, her body arching slightly, and I could see the goosebumps on her skin even from here. “Patience, baby,” he murmured, his hand brushing her ass before delivering a sharp crack with the whip. Elise gasped, her moan muffled but unmistakable, and my grip tightened on my beer bottle.

“You like that, don’t you?” Marc said, his tone smug as he spanked her again, the sound sharp in the quiet night. Her ass jiggled slightly, already pink from his hand, and she nodded, her lips parted.

“More,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. Marc grinned, reaching for something on the bed—a black ball gag. He held it up, letting her see it, and her eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and challenge.

“Open wide,” he said, and she obeyed, letting him fasten the gag in place. The sight of her, bound and gagged, her eyes blazing with defiance, sent a jolt through me. I shifted, my jeans suddenly tight, guilt gnawing at me but not enough to make me stop watching.

Marc picked up the whip again, trailing it over her breasts, teasing her nipples through the lace. She moaned around the gag, her body straining against the ropes. “Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” he growled, delivering another light spank to her thigh. “All tied up, begging for it.”

My breath hitched, my hand drifting to my belt almost without thinking. I knew it was wrong, spying like this, but the raw intensity of their game was intoxicating. Elise’s moans grew louder, muffled by the gag, as Marc knelt behind her, kissing the red marks on her ass. He spread her cheeks, his tongue teasing her, and her head fell back, her body trembling.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he said, his voice rough as he stood, undoing his jeans. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and I could see Elise’s eyes widen, even through the gag. He teased her with the tip, rubbing it against her entrance, and she pushed back, desperate for more.

“Want it?” he asked, his hand gripping her hip. She nodded frantically, her muffled moans pleading. He thrust into her slowly, deliberately, and her body arched, the ropes pulling tight against her wrists. The sight was unreal—her bound form, his slow, deep thrusts, the way her thighs shook with every movement.

I couldn’t help it. My hand slipped into my jeans, stroking myself as I watched, my heart pounding. Marc’s pace quickened, his hand coming down on her ass again, the crack of the spank mixing with her muffled cries. “Take it, Elise,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You love being my little slut, don’t you?”

She nodded, her eyes rolling back, her body rocking with his thrusts. The whip lay forgotten on the bed now, replaced by his hands, one gripping her hip, the other reaching around to rub her clit. Her moans turned to high-pitched whimpers, the gag barely containing them, and I could tell she was close. My own hand moved faster, matching their rhythm, the heat building in my core.

“Cum for me,” Marc demanded, his thrusts relentless. Elise’s body tensed, her back arching as she came, her muffled scream echoing through the courtyard. Marc groaned, pulling out just in time, his cumshot spilling across her bound wrists and pink ass, glistening under the bedroom light.

I bit my lip, stifling a groan as I came too, my release hot and messy in my hand. The guilt hit me hard now, but so did the rush, my chest heaving as I leaned against the wall, still watching. Marc untied Elise’s ropes, removing the gag and kissing her deeply, their bodies pressed close. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, and she laughed, breathless, curling into him.

“Next time, you’re the one tied up,” she teased, her voice hoarse but playful. They collapsed onto the bed, tangled together, and I finally forced myself to step back from the window, my heart still racing.

I sank onto my couch, my beer long forgotten, the image of Elise bound and moaning burned into my mind. I knew I’d never look at her the same way in the hallway again. Part of me felt like a creep, but another part was already wondering when I’d catch their next show—and whether I’d have the nerve to close my curtains next time.