(voyeurism, masturbation)

6:15 am – It’s still dark outside.  The shades are drawn back, and my
room is illuminated by the thin, orange light of an outside street
lamp.  I crouch near the window, field glasses in hand, waiting.

Her window is across the way from mine. Still dark, though at any moment
the light from a bedside lamp will flicker own, casting its own pale
light across her room.  Her room, which for the first morning I can see
in.  Maybe she was tired, or maybe simply negligent, but in the evening
last night when she drew her blinds a six inch gap near the bottom was
left exposed.  And so, here I am.

When the light clicks on, I am ready, my binoculars quickly drawn up to
my eyes.  Time seems to creep by so very slowly as I wait,   Finally,
the moment arrives.  A pair of legs passing by the gap, a fleeting
glimpse of her soft white skin stretching up to the vee between her
legs, covered in white cotton panties, just the faintest trace of the
bulge of her pubis.  And then she has passed from sight.

I realize I have been holding my breath and exhale deeply, gasping in a
fresh puff of air.  My cock is hard, standing straight up in the air as
I lean back against the bed looking down at my naked body.  I idly
stroke the length of it a few times before standing, drawing my own
shades closed, and heading to the bathroom for my morning shower.

6:45 am - The shower was warm, relaxing, cleansing.  I stood under the
hot spray and felt the nerves on every inch of my skin come alive.  The
water running down my body, dripping off my face, off my arms, off my
cock.  I cleaned myself carefully, washing the grime from every hidden
crevice of my body, rinsing away the soap and the dirt.  

Next, I lathered up my hands, turning my back to the cleansing spray,
and slowly massaged my cock.  I stroked along the length of it, feeling
its hardness and shape growing under my palms.  I tickled the tips of my
fingers across the tip, drawing a soft moan from myself.  Finally, when
it and I were ready, I gripped it with my soapy hands, slowly stroking
it as I remembered her legs, remembered the shape of the panties as they
clung to her body.  I thought about what it would feel like to peel the
white cotton down her legs and drive my hard cock into her, the warmth
and wetness of her sex wrapped around me like a blanket.  And I came,
turning again so the water washed away the residue of my lust,.

I turned off the water, feeling the cold air creep in around the shower
curtain, then padded quietly along the carpeted hall to the bedroom to
dress for the day.  My usual conservative attire, button down shirt and
dockers, dress shoes.  Nothing too flashy, nothing that would make me
stick out in a crowd.  Suitably attired, I am ready for my day.

9:45 – The morning meeting has finally ended.  Intolerably long, as
usual.  I hate sitting around that oval table, stained with coffee cup
marks, listening to the latest squabbling over who will handle what
account.  I couldn’t help but gaze wistfully out the window a few times,
looking at the sunny sky and warm temperatures which have graced us this
week.

If it wasn’t for Margaret, I would never have made it through the
meeting.  Skinny little Margaret, she of the long legs and the whining
voice.  Never satisfied with what she has been given to do, always
complaining that she’s not respected.  And always with those short mini
skirts, barely enough to cover her crotch.  If it was warmer, she might
not have worn hose as she did today, and I certainly wouldn’t have
minded the meeting at all.  As it was, I did manage to drop my pen and
take my time retrieving it, getting a nice long look up her thighs as
she crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Oh, those legs.  How I wanted to slide up under the table and part them,
press my mouth down on the panty hose until my teeth could grip the
fabric, rip them open.  Press my lips against her mound, parting the
pubic hairs with my tongue until I could run it over her own sweet lips
below.  Inhale her scent even as I drew forth from that lovely pussy her
sweet arousal.

Imagine how the old man would have liked that.  Probably would have
fired me on the spot, dismissed the rest of the crew for the morning,
and mounted her on the table himself.  Old bastard, never misses out on
a great piece of ass if its employed for him.  Power is an aphrodisiac,
how else to explain how that pot bellied, balding old prick gets laid so
often and by such sweet looking women.  No way he could respect them as
I do, love them as I have, desire them like me.

11:23 – Time to start making plans for lunch.  I’ve cleaned my in-box
out, making sure to leave plenty of time to enjoy myself today.  Now
that I have a half hour to spare, I’m taking in the view in front of my
office.  My secretary, Lola, in her usual low cut dress, high legged
hem.  Much more brazen than Margaret, she’s not wearing panty hose
today, nor leggings.

I’ve always thought my secretary was fairly plain, but then I didn’t
hire her for her looks.  When she wore that sexy pleated skirt to the
interview, her long dark hair laying on her business jacket (and nothing
on underneath it appeared), I knew she was going to be hired on the
spot.  It didn’t matter that her typing was a bit slow, she tried hard,
and she flashed enough body to make up for it.

Now she’s just sitting there, typing some letter I gave her.  I
positioned her desk so she is sideways to me, and has to turn towards me
to stand up.  The credenza is nothing more than a top with legs on one
end and attached to the desk at the other, which gives me a straight
view up that pretty little skirt of hers.    Waiting… waiting.  Yes, she
turns, flashing a smile at me as she rises and heads to the rest room. 
Blue panties, with the dark wisps of her pubic hair trailing out either
side of her crotch.

I can feel my cock getting hard again, just reliving the image in my
mind.  I think I better take lunch early today.

1:30 – Lunch.  I so very much love lunch.  The most remarkable thing has
happened to me and work has been the last thing from my mind the past
two hours.

I love the mall at lunch time.  Especially in the summer, when I have my
choice of short skirts to follow up and down the escalators.  It being
winter, this usually is a poor time for any sort of view.  However, on a
warm day like today, I figured one or two women as brave as my secretary
might afford me a glimpse of something warm and round.  So, I headed for
the food court on the third level.

I ate, pretending to read the newspaper while examining the room for
potential views.  Nothing appeared, and I began to grow despondent,
thinking the walk over was perhaps wasted and I had been too optimistic.

Just as I dumped the remains of my sub into the garbage and placed my
tray on top of the container, she walked past.  Full figured, with her
long black hair pulled back and held by a single dark purple ribbon. 
Tight black blouse, just the hint of a bra line holding up her plump
chest.  But, it was the skirt that drew the breath from my lungs.  That
sweet little skirt.  Not just a tight mini, nor a pleated Catholic
school girl type skirt which falls down to mid-thigh.  This was a short,
bouncing tennis skirt, the type that flopped free from her ass with
every single step she took.  

Of course I followed her.

She headed immediately for the escalator and I was a dozen or so feet
behind her, my eyes unable to peel free from the delightful sway of her
full hips and lovely rear.  I knew I would have a good look as she rode
up the steps ahead of me, but my luck was even better then I expected,
for she walked slowly up as she rode, each lift of a leg pulling the
skirt off her ass entirely.  More than I ever could have expected on a
day like this.  There was no need to even look down at her reflection on
the metal bars running along side the escalator from top to bottom, a
simple glance up was all revealing.

No panties.  Well, at first I thought there were no panties.  As she
reached the top, and strode off the escalator, I realized she was
wearing a tiny black thong, barely enough to cover the pucker of her
anus, and certainly not enough to cover her crotch, for her lips stuck
out on other side of the thin material.  

Oh god, was I hard by then.  I reached the top, and followed along
slowly at a distance, not knowing if I would be graced with another
view.  When she entered Waldenbooks, I followed, chasing her form
towards the first row of book racks.

She stopped in the section marked biographies, and I worked my way into
the aisle across from it, the one with all the local authors and travel
information.  I stole glances in her direction as I picked up something
which I still have no idea what it was about.  She squatted down to
reach for something on the bottom shelf, and for just a moment, as her
knees faced in my direction, her legs were parted enough for me to
glimpse the black thong covering her sex.  Then, she stood, and I
counted myself fortunate enough for a whole month of viewing, heading
out from the mall and heading back to the office.

So now I sit here, my cock resting comfortably in my warm hand, my cum
staining the leg of my pants as I watch my secretary preening, powdering
her nose and flashing me views down her blouse, her ripe chest there for
the plucking, but I am dreaming of a woman with dark hair, and a short
skirt, and tiny panties, smiling lecherously at me as I stroke myself
for her in a book store until my cum stains the volumes on either side
of the aisle.

I think I’ll be heading home early this evening.

7:36 pm - I’m sitting here again in my darkened bedroom.  The woman from
across the street came home, giving me a flashing glimpse of her
slightly chubby thighs as she got out of her little blue Toyota just
below my window, but tonight she pulled the shades all the way down.

I didn’t even spend any time viewing the ladies on the subway, their
fresh business skirts clashing with the graffeti and grime of the metal
box cars that shuffle us around each morning and evening.  None of them
seem worthy anymore, though of course I’m sure I must have looked at
some point.  I just don’t remember what they looked like.

It doesn’t matter.  I can’t get my mind of the dark haired woman in the
tennis skirt.  I see her hips swaying every time I close my eyes, and I
envision those succulent breasts, bouncing under a tight black shirt.  

My cock is sore from the masturbating I’ve done today, yet still I am
naked, the long length of my shaft held between my fingers, my hand
moving of its own will up and down, lifting the skin loosely over the
head before sliding the sheath back down tightly towards my balls.  Cum
stains the carpet by the window, still drying, and I feel a fresh load
growing as I reach for the baby oil to lessen the friction and
discomfort.

It’s going to be a long weekend