Fuel (as if my neighbor isn't enough)

This keeps happening

The other night, late, the neighbor was up as usual, and I had another glance over to the building next door, and, wouldn't you know it, there he is.

This turned into online chatting, showing off on the bed, lying on the desk in the office, pumping his cock, and lifting himself onto his feet.

He also told me he's an edger. This development makes it hotter than ever.

Then last night he watched me cum. I had a 3 day wad built up, and needed to pump it -- so I didn't draw it out.

Now we're chatting again. I think I just passed the point of ejaculatory inevitability, and I haven't even taken my pants off yet.

Update

Lights off. No sign of the window. I'll hear it.

The neighbor jacks again

I didn't get to write last night, but the night before last, there he was again. This time with the light barely on. I suppose I was being bad -- having opened the window a crack and raised the shade to just above where the screen was exposed.

For a while, I glanced over from time to time, seeing really nothing. What I thought were images emanating from his computer screen turned out to be the refracted reflections from my own (a later full on view would reveal that his desk is oriented so that I would only be able to see the rear of his monitor were I able to look in regularly).

I went about my business. Looking at pics, grabbing some lube. About an hour into my edge, I look over, and lights gone. Nothing. Oh well, I thought my little scene was over.

Wrong I was. A few moments later, dim light from the hallway. Then from nowhere, the shade rises. And rises. And rises. All the way up. I'm pretending not to notice -- I don't want to stare, after all. Well, I do, but I don't wish to be obvious about it. He's standing there, full on. Face and all. Stroking. Slowly. First one hand, then the other. Slow, then fast. He turns, spreads his asscheeks, giving me a view right to the spot I would rub if he were lying on his bed and I was stroking him. His screen is missing, and he throws a leg over the sill, reclining onto the window frame, his long cock and mushroom head silhouetted against the light from his room.

I cum. I moan, and I know he can hear me throgh my open window. I'm still hard; he's still stroking. I don't stop. He picks up his pace, still switching from hand to hand. He's not lubed - his skin moves with his fist. He grunts. He moans. He milks a wad out. We're both still rubbing. I cum again. Harder this time, deeper. We give each other a thumbs up and close the windows.

His light is on again as I write this. Shade down, window closed. Mine's partly open. I'm not shy.