The Knot in the Fence

The fence between the two back gardens was old cedar, weathered grey, and it had a knot-hole at about chest height if you stood on his side. Mark had noticed it the first week after he moved into the rental. The woman next door used her garden most afternoons when the weather was decent. She sunbathed nude on a faded towel spread on the grass, face-down for a while with her arms under her head, then rolling onto her back with one knee bent and a book or her phone in her hand. She was in her mid-thirties, dark hair usually tied up, and she never seemed to notice or care that the old fence had gaps and holes and that someone might be looking.

He started watching properly on a Tuesday when he came home early. He stood in his own garden in the shade of the shed with his cock already out and in his hand and his eye pressed to the hole. She was on her back. Her tits were bare and slightly flushed from the sun. One hand rested on her stomach just below her navel. He stroked himself slowly, thumb working the head, and watched the way her chest rose and fell with her breathing and the way her nipples tightened when a breeze moved across the yard. When she turned over onto her stomach he saw the full curve of her ass and the dark line between her cheeks and the way the towel had creased under her. He came hard across the inside of the fence boards, thick white stripes that ran down the wood and dripped onto the soil at the base.

He did it again the next day. And the day after that. Sometimes she read a paperback with sunglasses on. Sometimes she just lay there with her eyes closed and one arm thrown over her face. Once, on a warmer afternoon, she reached down between her legs and touched herself for several minutes, slow and unhurried, two fingers moving, then stopped, sat up, and went inside without finishing. He came harder that time, biting his own lip to stay quiet, and had to lean against the fence afterward. He started shifting his lunch break and leaving the office early so he could be home when she was usually out. He kept a small bottle of lube hidden in the shed behind a stack of empty pots so he would not have to rely on spit every time.

On Friday she was out longer than usual. The sun was lower. She lay on her stomach for a while, arse up, then rolled onto her back and deliberately spread her legs wider than before. He could see her cunt clearly through the hole. She was wet; even from the distance and the angle he could tell the way the light caught her. She slid two fingers into herself and fucked herself with them in steady strokes while her other hand worked her clit in small circles. He stroked faster, breathing loud in his own ears, lube slick on his cock. He came at the same moment she did—watched her hips lift off the towel and her mouth open in a silent sound—and painted the inside of the fence again in long pulses.

He was still standing there, cock in his fist, not yet soft, when she sat up on the towel and looked directly at the knot-hole.

She did not cover herself or reach for the towel. She stayed like that for a long moment, fingers still shiny with her own wetness, chest rising and falling, and then she smiled. Small. Knowing. She stood, walked across the grass to the fence on her side, and crouched down so her face was level with the hole. He could see one of her eyes and part of her mouth clearly.

“I know you’ve been watching,” she said. Her voice was calm and clear through the gap. “I’ve seen you the last few times. The way you stand. If you’re going to keep doing it, at least let me hear you when you come. Make a noise. And next time bring your phone up to the hole. I want to see what you look like while you watch me touch myself.”

She stood again without waiting for an answer, walked back to her towel, and lay down on her back with her legs spread open once more. She started touching herself again, slower this time, putting on a show. He stayed at the hole, cock hard again almost immediately. This time when he came he groaned out loud, low and broken and unmistakable, loud enough that she would hear it over the fence. She smiled without opening her eyes, hips still moving. Afterward he found the small piece of paper she had pushed through another gap lower down—the one with her number written on it in neat digits. He texted it before he even reached his back door. She answered within a minute. The message was short: tomorrow, same time. Leave your side gate unlocked. I want to watch you watch me from closer. Bring the lube. The next afternoon he left the gate unlocked. She came through wearing only a robe, dropped it on his grass, and lay down on his side of the fence where he could see everything up close. He stood over her and stroked himself while she fingered her cunt and told him exactly what she had seen him do all week. He came across her tits and stomach. She rubbed it in and made him lick it off her before she went back through the gate. She texted him that night: tomorrow you can come in my mouth while I watch you through the hole. Leave the gate open again. He did. She came through, knelt in front of the hole from her side, and sucked him through the fence while he watched her finger herself. He came in her mouth. She swallowed and told him the next time he could fuck her properly in his garden while she kept one eye on the hole in case anyone walked past on her side. He agreed. They set it for Saturday. On Saturday she came through the gate naked, bent over his garden table, and let him fuck her while she kept looking back at the fence hole. He came inside her. She made him watch while she pushed the come out and licked her fingers, then told him the next time he had to stay on his side and only use the hole while she fucked herself with a toy and described everything she wanted him to do to her. He agreed immediately.

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