Unlocking a Secret Obsession: A Tale of Forbidden Desire and Desperate Longing

Marci had a rather tiring day at work. She made her way up to her twelfth-story loft provided to her by her new boss and lover, she begins imagining the warm bath she will soon draw and the sweet release her pillow held. Stepping through the door, she is
stunned to see a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice on the table. Next to it, a large vase with a huge bouquet of flowers. Red and white roses, at least two dozen of each. Attached to the roses is a small card with her name on it, she took it and read it.
" Marci - will be with you soon." Uttering an unwinding sigh and flick of the wrist, she let her black hair fall free from their restraint and gently kicked off her heels. She saunters towards the bedroom, stripping along the way.

She begins to run the water, she turns towards the mirror. Besides the slight dark circles that ring her tired dark eyes, she has to admit, she feels very sexy in my black lacy bra and thong. Smiling to herself before removing them, she makes her way to the tub, and that's when she sees me. With it only being slightly after 8 on a winter evening, light behind me, making me within plain view. Marci stood frozen, completely shocked by the figure standing just across from her building, in my own apartment one story down from her. There I stood, blatantly staring. Embarrassed and slightly appalled, she sank into the privacy of the tub a mere few feet away. Closing the blinds above would've taken a few extra seconds, crawling in seems to be the quickest and most sensible thing to do. She is simply stunned. The nerve! Then she begins thinking. She wonders how long I had been doing this. Is this a first or just the first time she has caught me? Did I peer into several women's apartments or just hers? She is over thinking, she tells herself. I may be just staring out the window for all she knows and happened to see her and begins staring. She wonders if I'm still there... Whatever, it's sick and it's wrong.

Despite the quiet and soothing atmosphere, all she can think about is me. She had to admit, for a few seconds she seen me, I looked like John Malone. She wonders again if I'm still standing there. It eats at her to know. Slowly rising from the tub, she crouches on her knees, the cool air piercing her skin with a sharpness that makes her nipples immediately stand on end. She reaches the windowsill, her eyes sharpen and fixated on the window she had seen her admirer standing. There I was, standing, looking and waiting, she thought. She slinks back, she can't help but feel desire coursing through her veins. Remembering my last visit when we spent two nights at a five star luxury hotel, being fucked to exhastion. No, the looking isn't welcomed. Yes, it can be misconstrued as wrong, but for some reason that made it all the more exciting.

If I'm still looking and waiting, I want to see more. And if she is enjoying this as well, who am I to say no? The water is no longer warm; she is no longer tired. She is horny now. A towel hung from the shelf above, she wouldn't be grabbing it anytime soon. Running some more warm water, she slowly begins to rise from the private confines of the tub. A glance confirms I'm still present. A slight smile spreads across her face as the embers of lust is filling her. Water beading on her soft, milky skin and breasts before racing down her long legs, disappearing back into the pool below. Turning slightly towards the window, she begins to ring out her hair and slowly soap up her neck, arms and breasts, paying special attention to the latter. When she begins shaving her legs, darkness is now black, she knew she had to make this good and quick. Rinsing her hair out from the shower above, she arches her back tossing her hair in the sexiest way she can conjure. Her body is so electrified. Stepping from the tub, she grabs the towel and dries off her top half. When she got to her waist, she propped her foot nearest the window atop the sink. After toweling off completely, it was time.

Slightly wetting a finger, she moistens her slit. Her pussy is silky smooth just the way she and I like it. There is something about being completely hairless that makes her feel ultra sexy that even she found herself touching her more. Knowing I'm watching only intensifies her senses. She so wished I could be standing beside her, gawking at her exposed body, watching her fingers give in to the desire her body so craves. She teases herself steering clear of her clit for as long as she can handle. She imagines my thoughts right now, how hard I must be from watching but not touching.

She fingers herself, her warm wetness coating her fingers. Her hips rise and fall with each thrust and as she increases in speed, moans escaping her lips. Tossing her head back in a trance, she rolls one nipple between her fingers, imagining what it would be like to watch me stroking myself. She had to know. Glancing over her shoulder, She found me standing in the exact same spot but can't make out the placement of my hands. Her vision seems to blur the more she strains to see. Her breaths come more and more quickly in a rhythmic pattern as she feels herself nearing

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THE END