It had been three months since Riley moved in. Three months of staring at her when she was sitting on the balcony, wearing not more than a bikini. Three months of secretive photos, taken from behind the Venetian blinds, or, when the opportunity arose, directly through the window. And three months of watching her in the shower, using the hidden camera I put in the unused lock. It was a great way to pass the time, but once again, I was getting greedy.

On two occasions since that first time, I had seen the adorable tiny redhead turn into a vixen of lust, when she upgraded an ordinary shower to a moment of self-pleasure. Those moments were beautiful, but they also made me realize there was so much of Riley that I didn’t know yet. If she could get this freaky in the bathroom, could she be equally freaky – or even more! – in the comfort of her own bedroom?

I had to find out. The chance came in early August, when Riley knocked on my door. Behind here were two large suitcases, in her hand was a spare key of her apartment. She told me she was going on a trip, and asked if I could water her plants while she was gone. She even handed me a piece of paper with her mobile phone number and the flight information hastily scribbled on it. Of course, I accepted. I had been waiting for this opportunity for ages.

I wasn’t in a hurry. I spent the first day of Riley’s vacation figuring out my plan, even though a rather detailed one had long formed in the back of my head. The only thing I did on that first day, was to have a copy of the key made in a shop nearby – just in case. On the second day, I went in, armed with a watering can.

Riley’s apartment was tidy. The furniture was clean, it smelled nice, and, from the first peek I had into the other room, her bed was made. I left the living room behind and stepped into the room where she spent her nights. There were some posters of popstars on the walls, a couple of mirrors surrounding a big one, a twin bed, a large wardrobe and two smaller cupboards, and a desk with a bunch of books, pieces of paper and a laptop on it. It was a typical student bedroom, even though she wouldn’t start her academic year until next month.

I opened the wardrobe. It wasn’t as tidy as the rest of the apartment, there even was a pile of unwashed laundry lying at the bottom shelf. There were a dozen pairs of pants, probably twice as many tops, a few coats and jackets, a shelf for her sportswear, and two others of random that didn’t belong anywhere. I close the wardrobe and opened one of the cupboards. The boring one, as I found out: this one contained only books, notepads, and piles of paper. The next cupboard, however, was the one I had been looking for. It was there she kept her socks – which weren’t overly exciting – and her underwear – which was. I estimated there were nothing short of thirty pairs of panties, ranging from lazy boy shorts to tiny thongs. Most of her bras looked convenient, but there were a few that she could have only bought with a boy in mind. The fact that both those bras and the lacy, expensive-looking panties were stuffed towards the back of the drawer made me stick with my idea that she must have been single.

I grabbed a pale, old looking pair of panties from an unused corner of the drawer – a trophy, if you will – and kneeled down next to the bed. There was a synthesizer catching dust, a bunch of unorganised shoes, a worn thong, and a shoe box, that seemed out of place with all the other shoes lying about. I took it from under the bed and put it on the desk, and then opened it.

Jackpot.

It was Riley’s secret stash. The box contained two rubber toys, varying in size, and a smaller metal one with just enough room for a battery. It was still working, buzzing gently in my hand. There was also a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter, an empty weed bag, an erotic novel, a pack of condoms, and a flash drive. I took the drive and put everything else back exactly as I had found it, before putting the box back under her bed as well.

I watered Riley’s plants and walked back to my apartment, armed with the watering can, the striped, blue-white panties and the flash drive. I couldn’t wait to put it in my pc. One would expect a device hidden so well would at least be protected with a password, but there was nothing of the sort. In fact, the three folders on the drive were audaciously named “porn videos”, “porn pics” and “me”. Part of me wanted to jump right into the last folder, but I decided to check the others out first. The pictures folder contained a large collection of woman-friendly, erotic images, although some could easily be placed in the “porn” category. The videos folder had twenty-odd full-length movies, starring all sorts of actresses, but every last one of them showing a lot of detailed scenes. But if I wanted random porn movies, I could easily find them myself. I wanted Riley.

If I had any doubt that Riley could be a naughtier girl than she pretended to be, the “me” folder would have taken it all away. There were dozens of little concealing photos, none of them showing Riley’s face, but with help from the toys I recognized, and even the pair of panties I had borrowed, it was obvious that it was her. There were photos of her spread legs and a perfect view of the larger one of the toys vanishing inside her. There were photos of her fingers disappearing as well, and close-ups that left nothing to the imagination. Lastly, in a subfolder called “vid”, were eight video files of up to half an hour in length, showing a tiny redhead playing with herself, stuffing her body full of toys, and reaching vivid orgasms.

I copied every file to my hard drive before putting the flash drive back in Riley’s secret box. Everything was exactly as it had been before – except for the missing pair of underwear. In the week that followed, I kept coming back. With the flash drive and the toy box, I had already found the holy grail, but on occasion, I stumbled upon other interesting stuff. There was a pile of letters from what I assumed was once a holiday fling, with a handful of photos of a naked man tucked carefully in between. There was a pair of panties with an open crotch, that looked like it had never been worn. Hardest to find were the random pieces of paper with short, erotic stories written on them, complete with quick drawings to accompany it. But the best finding – besides the shoe box under the bed – was a the manuscript of an erotic novel, signed by Riley herself. It was the tale of a young woman, captured and used against her will, who, after she had finally been able to escape, tracked down every last one of her kidnappers, seduced them, and killed them while they were shooting their last loads inside her. It wasn’t a bad story, and Riley surely knew how to write.

The day before Riley was supposed to come back home, I got to work. More cameras had been waiting on my desk for weeks, and now I could finally let them spread their wings. I carefully hid one between the water pipes than ran overhead in the living room, and put another in one of the electric sockets in her bedroom. Disguised as bolts, they were hiding in plain sight – the perfect strategy. It took me a few hours, but I finally managed to connect them to the power lines, one directly inside the socket, the other one through a hole in the wall. I could easily change the batteries of the one in the bathroom, but these had to be up and running every hour of every day. This way, they were.

When Riley came home the next day, I could watch her every move. I could hear how she talked to her mother on the phone, telling her all about the trip; I could watch her eat a quick salad just before midnight; and I could see her, from up close, slip into her night gear and fall asleep the second she got into bed. I watched her sleeping for a while, and then went to bed myself. I woke up early, because I didn’t want to miss out on anything. Luckily, I didn’t have to.

The moment Riley woke up, there was movement underneath the blanket. I couldn’t see her face – her head was turned the other way – but something was happening. Whoever she had gone on holiday with, there must have been a great lack of privacy. The blanket moved, Riley’s legs changed position every ten seconds. When she kicked away the blanket, I could see her panties hanging over one leg, the other freed of their grasp. Riley moved around a lot, squeezing her breasts, running her hand through her hair, kicking her feet up, down, spreading her legs and closing them again. She was giving it her all, that was clear as day.

Suddenly, the movement stopped. She shuffled to the side of the bed – kicking away her panties in the process – and moments later, she came back into my view, holding the largest of the toys that I had held a week earlier. She started feeling herself up again, while licking the tip of the toy and putting it in her mouth. I could almost feel her lips around my own toy – almost. Who knew, maybe some day, she would take me in her mouth like she did with her pink morning lover.

I got back to reality when she lowered her hand and used the tip of her toy as a substitute for her fingers, rubbing herself with it. Just when I was starting to get annoyed with myself for not having put the camera in the socket on the opposite wall, Riley changed position. She got up and placed the toy on the bed, holding it with one hand, leaning on the other. She kicked a leg over it, turning her body a quarter of a full circle – in the direction of the socket. I had the perfect view on her when she lowered her body over the toy, until all but the bottom inch disappeared inside her. She paused for a while and sat up, pulling her top over her head and throwing it on the floor in front of the camera. I had not seen her fully naked since she had left for her trip, but this sight easily made the waiting worth my while.

Her body started jumping up and down, as if she was riding an imaginary boyfriend. I could see the look on her face, a combination of girly naughtiness and pure lust. She rode her toy, rubbing herself with her free hand. Her hair got in the way, but I wasn’t looking at her face any more. Riley leaned back to give me a perfect view of her skinny body, her spread legs, and the toy sliding in and out of her. Her breasts wiggled in the same rhythm. She was still jumping up and down, but she had let go of the toy, so it barely moved any longer. Instead, she leaned on one hand behind her, as she rubbed herself with her other hand as fast as she could.

Having seen Riley have a shower orgasm three times before, I knew she was going to get there when she held her breath and ramped up the speed even further. The silence before the storm, the eye of the hurricane. A moment later, Riley collapsed. She kicked her feet forward and fell on her back, her body shivering with pleasure. She didn’t even bother to take out the toy just yet. A powerful moan came into existence, an extended vowel, that ended with a sudden gasp for air. She slammed her legs into each other a few times, squeezing her breasts. A minute had passed, perhaps longer, when she finally grabbed her toy and slowly pulled it out. Instead of leaving it at that, however, she laid her hand between her legs and slowly started rubbing again, bringing the toy to her mouth. She tasted herself, she took the entire thing in her mouth and sucked her juices off. Then, eventually, she bent over the edge of the bed again and hid the toy back in the shoe box.

Not even ten minutes after her explosion of pleasure, Riley knocked on my door. She looked exhausted, and I knew it wasn’t all because of the trip itself. I gave her the original key back, she thanked me for taking care of her plants. It was strange to talk to the girl I had been watching minutes ago, but Riley seemed totally fine. If she would have made a bold move and would have entered my apartment, she would have seen a live feed of her bedroom on my computer screen. She didn’t, of course. Instead, she thanked me again and disappeared through the door. I sat and watched her have breakfast, realizing this was only the beginning – the beginning of something very beautiful indeed.

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