I used to live in a first floor apartment that bordered on the parking lot of a small Mexican restaurant. A lot of people used it as a party area, as it was fairly well shielded from the road and not very brightly lit.

One August night I woke to the sound of Dave Mathiews, playing at near concert-volume outside my window. I like the music, but at four AM on a work night all it did was piss me off. I peeled the bedsheet off of my body and, without my glasses, made my way to the kitchen window to see what the hell was going on.

Through the window I could see the offending party, a car parked parallel to the chain link fence. In half-sleep I could make out a motion through the car window, kind of a blur, as if someone were waving something around inside. At this point I was still in a fog: feeling confused, almost dreaming, still pissed about the loud music but curious as to what the hell was going on. I shuffled back to the bedroom to get my glasses.

When I returned I realized that the blur was a guy's ass, and not a bad one either. Now I was starting to wake up. I moved to the other side of the window - trying to get a better view as I stood naked in my kitchen, trying to see more of what I knew had to be going on. I felt kind of nasty watching but told myself "what the hell, if they want to put on a show..."

Then I realized why the music was so loud. She was all but screaming as he pounded his cock into her, so loud the stereo couldn't quite cover it up. I found myself debating the wisdom of covering the sounds of loud sex with louder music, and I giggled to myself at the stupidity of it, but at the same time I was getting excited, trying to imagine myself on my back, getting the business end of that beautiful ass as it slammed back and forth - drilling a cock into her pussy. The guy must have come once already or drunk too much or something, he just seemed to go on and on and on.

I dragged a kitchen chair to the window and stood on it, trying to see up and over - deeper into the back of the car, but to no avail. I managed to see a hand on his hip, imagined the nails scratching, imagined her hands pulling him deeper inside her. A pair of knees lifted up on either side of his hips, bouncing to every thrust and that was all. He wasn't making any noise, (that I could hear over the music), but she kept lifting new cries, louder and louder. I got wetter and wetter, absently trailing a hand down my belly to play with my clit as I braced my other hand on the windowsill.

"Hey, what the hell is going on down there?" It was the guy who lived above the restaurant, I recognized his voice. He must have been standing on his deck but I couldn't see him because of the trees that blocked most of the view up there.

"Damn," I thought to myself, so much for the show. Then I heard him yell "Hey..." one more time and then silence. Evidently he had a better view than I did.

By now the car windows were steaming up and my view was as bad as watching with no glasses. Her moans turned to screams and kept getting louder - and believe me, she wasn't screaming for help. Once between songs I thought I heard him talking to her in a low voice but couldn't make out any words. Then the next song started and my fingers went back to work on my clit - my hips tensed and I closed my eyes, getting a better mental picture of what must be happening than I could see anyway. I was feeling the beginning tingles in my pussy and I heard the guy cry out over the music and it sent me over the edge. I gripped hard on the windowsill and then I was coming and coming, biting my lip and trying to keep my balance on the chair.

As the final tremors of my orgasm faded I noticed that the music had stopped. I eased my aching knees into motion and stood on the kitchen floor, shaking and trying to catch my breath. He got out of the car then, strong back and no shirt, fastening his pants. I backed away from the window, afraid to be caught watching.