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I first spotted Lacy working late one night on a dispute over land rights. My client had built a $200 million high-rise luxury condo project exactly two feet over the legal setback. Dumbasses. Now they were going to pay me so much in legal fees, I might be able to upgrade my boat. But this story isn’t about lawsuits. It’s about Lacy. Her apartment was almost directly across from my office. Between our buildings was a park, putting us one narrow block away from each other. On this particular night, it was late and I happened to see her sitting in her window, shirtless, enjoying the cool evening and the sounds of the city. A glass of white wine in her hand. She looked lovely, with one foot propped in the open window. Relaxed. Friendly. Open. She didn’t see me that night, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I started to fantasize about her. I brought a pair of binoculars to work, hid them in my desk, and started to look for reasons to work late. I also named her. Lacy was an obvious choice because of her habit of sitting in that window, sipping wine, in a lacy black bra that barely covered the lower half of her luscious tits. I watched her for three days before I started jerking off. Then it was binoculars and fapping every night for a week. But then, one night, Lacy surprised me. Instead of sitting in the window with a glass of wine, she was sitting in the window with a pair of binoculars of her own, looking right back at me. She was still shirtless, still wearing Bostancı Escort a lacy black bra. When we locked binocular eyes on each other, she waved. I startled and dropped the binoculars. I tried to act casual as if I hadn’t just been caught peeping at a beautiful, half undressed woman. Luckily, I hadn’t pulled my cock out yet. She only saw me in my suit, scanning with field glasses, I told myself. If she filed a police complaint, I could come up with a good explanation for why I had binoculars in my office. Parade watching? Sniper spotting? I would have to keep thinking on that. I turned back to my computer and tried not to think about it.That lasted all of about five minutes. It was too exciting. Too sexy and anonymous. If she was onto me, why not put on a shirt? How had she spotted me with my office lights out? And had I seen the corner of a smile on her lips below those lenses? I grabbed mine and turned for a look, but she was gone. Her light turned out. The next night, we saw each other again, both of us looking through binoculars. But this time, the black lacy bra was gone. She stood in her window topless, a little farther back so as not to attract eyes from the street, watching me through the glasses. Her tits were magnificent. Curvy and round, perched proudly atop a tanned, toned torso. She waved. This time, I waved back. But then we were kind of stuck. We had made contact, but what next? Did she want anything else? Did Bostancı Escort Bayan I? Was it enough to check in on my topless, anonymous friend across the street now and again without ever knowing her real name? I left the office that night excited but confused. That night, I dreamed of Lacy. I dreamed that I was trying to talk to her, asking her name, but she couldn’t hear me. Then I woke up with a start, a boner, and an idea. On the way to work, I bought some poster board and markers. As I carried them through the cubicles on the way to my corner office, I told my coworkers they were for my nephew’s scout project. After everyone had gone home, I got them out and wrote a message. I positioned a small light in my window so that she could read it. It said, “I’m Rick.” When she read it, she smiled and retreated into her apartment. She returned with her own poster material, and we sent the following messages: Lacy: “Hi Rick. I’m topless.” [Smiley face]Me: “Bottoms?” Lacy put down her binoculars and backed up a step so that I could see below her waist. She had narrow hips and beautiful, lean legs. She wore a pair of bright, flouncy pajama shorts. She put her hands on the top of her shorts, twisted in a little dance, and lowered the shorts to the floor. I felt my heavy hose pushing into the leg of my suit pants. I adjusted and wrote another message. Me: “Pose.” Lacy made a slow turn to give me a look at every side of her. Her Escort Bostancı ass was a tight oval of curvy muscle. Her hair fell down to the middle of her back in loose, cinnamon-colored waves. Her narrow waist formed an appealing half-moon. And her pussy, I saw once she propped one foot onto a chair, was shaved, pink, and pouty. Me: “Penetrate yourself.” Lacy disappeared for a moment and returned with a little purple stick. She propped up the leg again and started to rub it against the top of her folds. As dildos go, it was a small one, which gave me a rush of vain desire. The purple disappeared into her pink and few times while she rubbed her own nipples. Then she pulled it out and licked it. I felt a shock of energy. While I was trying to catch my breath again, she disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with a poster covering all the parts of her body I had just been admiring. Lacy: “Your turn.” I undressed. After watching her smooth, feline movements, mine felt clumsy and not at all attractive. When I finished, I stood stark naked in front of my office window, my dick pointing at the moonless sky outside, barely conscious that someone else might also spot me there. This connection with lacy was worth it. Lacy: “Jack off.” I did so, holding my binoculars in one hand and my erection in the other, I stroked slowly. Lacy posed and teased her own body, making me harder and harder. She grabbed the dildo and fucked herself with it, all while watching me through her glasses. Lacy: “Faster.” I obeyed. The feeling this experience gave me was somewhere between the lonely purposefulness of porn and the immediate intimacy of sex. Lacy was both gorgeous and unreal. Connected to me but unattainable. It was sexy as hell but also frustrating as shit. Lacy: “Come.” 

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