Yesterday, my friend and I were sitting on my apartment’s balcony eating dinner when something happened. My building overlooks another apartment building that is across the street. One of the neighbors in this building was sitting with his chair beside his open porch window, turned sideways. My friend remarked, “That guy keeps staring at us.”
I looked, and saw a pink cock in a rocking hand. My first instinct was to yell at him, publicly call him on what he was doing. But then I thought what if he comes over here? He knows where I live. “[Friend],” I said. “He’s masturbating. Let’s go inside.”
We lost our appetites, and were no longer comfortable sitting outside. Our mobility was limited by our fear of this man.
When relaying the story to friends, I had a few laughs with friends. But I was asked innocently, “Guess no more wearing skimpy outfits!” (We weren’t–not that I owe anyone that explanation–but so what if we were?) I was teased, “Were you wearing skirts?” And I was told, “That’s what you get for looking in someone’s window.”
My friend and I are involved in someone’s fetish against our wills, and we’re the ones questioned by people who are generally supportive. Hell, the first thing I do is defend that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. But so when would the wrong have started? If my friend and I had been egging the guy on? By being physically affectionate towards each other? Sunbathing in our bikinis?