Chapter 7

Earlier in the evening, Bart had positioned himself by his bedroom window with his ever-present bag of corn curls. When he saw Fred and Donna first arrive he said, "Ooo my! What kind of a little blonde dish do we have here? She certainly looks like the wholesome type. What's she doing at Pam and Keith's?"

He pulled out his trusty binoculars and surveyed the blonde closely. He couldn't get over how pretty she was. She seemed so innocent. She seemed so sweet.

For the first twenty minutes or so, she faced away from him, so all he got to look at was her backside. But that was enough. She was one of those rare type of women who had a lovely back. It was free of love handles, any noticeable tilt toward the left or right, and was as firm as her little tummy.

A lot could be said for a woman's back. Its beautiful aspects were frequently overlooked by men. Probably because men were always preoccupied with the frontal equipment. Yet, over the years, he had been able to detect a beautiful woman by the appearance of her backside. Once he got a good look at her shoulder blades and spinal column, he could predict with accuracy what her breasts, stomach, and pelvic region would look like.

There was no real trick to it. A woman with a shapely back frequently stood straight and erect. As a result, her posture was generally perfect, like that of Grace Kelly. And if the posture was good, and the woman was in good physical shape, then breasts usually remained uptilted and savory. Whereas if the posture was poor, the breasts usually hung down prematurely. Poor posture also led to the development of fat guts-perhaps the ugliest and most unsightly attribute a woman could acquire.

Bart realized that he wasn't one who should talk about other's posture. His was about as bad as they came. His back resembled a question mark and his gut was similar to that of a beached whale. It was so large that he had to reach around it in order to hold his penis to take a leak.

After a while, he noticed that Pam and the blonde had removed their bikini tops. "Oh yea! Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "Let's see those titties."

He was treated to an appreciative view of two of the most gorgeous sets of knockers on any women anywhere. They were certainly as good as those depicted in his girlie magazines.

"Mmmm. I just love large nipples on gorgeous women," he said as he grabbed a cupcake. He stuffed it into his mouth and reached down and unzipped himself. He wanted to be ready. After all, beating off while spying on Pam was his hobby.

He was surprised to see both women remove their bikini bottoms. They stood bare-assed naked in front of the men as if displaying themselves for a wife-swap.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as he grabbed some pretzels. "I'd always heard about these things, but I'd never seen one. I thought that they were a thing of the past. Wow! Wow! Wow!"

When Keith walked over and began pointing to Pam's titties, as if pointing out the good points on a used car, Bart nearly swallowed his tongue.

"Holy shit! This is going to be the best beat-off

I've ever had! It's shaping up to be better than a porno movie."

He reached for several bags of corn puffs and pork rinds, and said, "It's going to be a great evening."

Meanwhile, Liz was also peeking out her window. She too had noticed that Pam and Keith had a pair of visitors.

"Wow!" she said aloud. "Who's that gorgeous looking blonde? She looks like a living, breathing angel."

For years she had known that she had latent lesbian tendencies. This was proven by her intense arousal whenever she saw Pam's nude body. No man ever set her hormones aflame like that. Never! Regardless of the size of his penis or the color of his skin!

But the little blonde dish standing on the patio had awakened some new, deeper passions which she never knew existed before. Her eyes focused on the trim little tummy and the shapely derriere. They were the best that she'd ever seen.

Suddenly, beads of perspiration began to form on her forehead, and a nervous quivering ran up and down her spine. Her head started to feel light-as if she were experiencing oxygen depletion. Her stomach started to flutter-as if she were experiencing stage fright. But most importantly, her vagina started to throb like it had never throbbed before. The sight of the beautiful blonde had caused her to reach a plateau of sexual arousal akin to the climax stage of a spontaneous orgasm. She felt better than when she beat Bart over the head with a newspaper.

Liz couldn't stand the thought of remaining in her clothes one moment longer She quickly disrobed, throwing everything helter-skelter across her room. When she was completely nude she rushed to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and sought out her vibrator.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit! oh piss!" she screamed in desperation. "Where is it? Where's my little friend? I've got to have it? I remember putting it back in here this morning. I know I did."

The dresser drawers were yanked out-one after the other-and their contents dumped out. After a frantic search of several minutes, she found it buried beneath a pile of bras. With her room in complete disarray and her clothing scattered everywhere-on the bed, on the floor, on the lamps--she checked to make sure that the batteries were charged. After all, there's nothing worse than a vibrator that won't vibrate.

"Thank god you're all right,' she said as if talking to a child.

With the treasured object in hand, she dashed back to the window and positioned herself in the chair for the best view possible. She kissed the tip of the vibrator, spread her thighs, and lowered it between them.

"Ah!" she moaned. "It's going to be a great evening."

Although she didn't know it, at that very moment, Bart was also discarding his clothing and positioning himself for a good view of the proceedings. Hence, husband and wife stood at adjoining windows in the timeless tradition of sexually starved voyeurs watching other participants in the game of love. Their eyes were open wide, and their breath came in short little gasps, as each worked at his or her crotch at the same time.

Some people truly were made for each other.

Remarkably, neither Bart no Liz believed that their masturbation secret had been discovered. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Pam had witnessed their ritual dozens of times. She thought that they looked positively repulsive peeking out from behind the window, working their hands furiously at their groins. But she never said anything. She figured that the more sperm which was spilled, and the more exhausted they got, the less likely they were to produce ugly children.

Hence, Pam saw herself as benefiting the entire human species.