The Mirror

The office where I work is in an older restored building, but it faces across the street to a new glass skyscraper, the kind with perfect "mirror" panels that provide such an accurate reflection that I could comb my hair or shave in it.

Immediately below my office there is a law office, and I've often chatted with the attractive paralegal who works literally underneath me. She's in her early forties, divorced with two kids, and has what they would call a "smokin' " body. We've gone out for drinks with a group a couple of times, but have never really flirted seriously. "Deb" dresses very young for her age, and is not afraid to show off her legs and cleavage. Her nickname around the building is "Erin Brockovich", which ought to give you the idea.

One Friday late last summer I was working late, musing on something or other while staring out my window when I noticed that "Deb" had turned her chair to her own window and was also gazing vacantly into space. It was a mercilessly hot day and our building's AC was straining to capacity.

Although I noticed her in her reflection, she seemed unaware of my gaze. I was beginning to stare as she rolled her desk chair up to the low, full window and lifted up the sash (she has the only window in the building that actually opens!). I could not take my eyes off her as she shook off her heels and put her feet on the windowsill. I was mesmerized as she slid a hand up the inside of her bare thigh, straining to see whatever she was about to expose.

She soon gratified my desire, as it became apparent that she was not wearing panties, her hand sliding her skirt up above her fully shaved bush, and moving gently up and down her mound. I was instantly hard as a rock.

Was anyone else watching her? Was anyone watching me watch her? Could she see me? Surely she must be aware that although she wasn't visible from the street the occupants of both the high rise across the street and the offices adjoining her own could see her squirm with each stroke? Faster and faster she moved her hand and I soon found myself, totally without thinking, reaching under my own belt and stroking in time with her rhythms. When she reached up with her other hand and pushed down her low-cut blouse to expose a firm little breast and hard nipple, I unzipped my pants and grabbed my own penis, fully engorged now. Deb rolled what seemed to be enormous hard nipples (something that always arouses me) between her thumb and forefinger, stroking the dark "pencil eraser" ever longer.

By now I was openly stroking myself, disregarding the possibility that anyone else could be looking - it was well after five o'clock wasn't it? I matched my rhythm to hers, sliding up and down as she inserted first one and then two fingers into herself and her skirt hiked above her full, hard ass.

Suddenly she began to shake, her orgasm visible even at that distance. I followed instantly - my semen exploding onto the window itself as I closed my eyes. When I opened them, seconds later, I looked across into Deb's reflected image, only to find her looking directly back into my eyes. She continued to stroke herself for a few seconds, then pulled down her top to expose both breasts and began massaging them. After a few seconds of this she looked into my eyes again and made the universal "come here" gesture.

It must have taken me at least a minute to clean myself up and leap down the flight of stairs to her office, but I don't remember it. I do remember her sitting atop her desk, with her legs spread and the inside of her thighs still sticky with her perspiration and pussy juices.

I caressed her thighs and pussy with my tongue until she came, after when she dropped to her knees and gave me the most succulent, wet blow job I have ever had in my life. Because I had so recently come, I was able to resist the urge for long enough to bend her over her desk and take her from behind, coming in seconds after I began pounding her like a jackhammer while holding her firm but ample cheeks.

Not a word had passed between us.

We sat on her desk for a while longer, kissing, licking, and slurping up the fluids with which we were now covered. When I asked what she was doing after work, she put her finger to my lips and her lips to my cock. Soon I was coming again, squirting my jism all over her face and glasses.

"C'mon," she said, "It's time to go..." and we walked out to the parking lot hand in hand. She gave me a kiss and drove off home.

Monday morning, when I returned to work, Deb was off on vacation, and when she returned the following week she never spoke again of our passionate voyeurism and fucking, deflecting my attempts at conversation with a wink and a grin. She moved off to another law firm shortly after, and I've not seen her since. She's not listed in the local legal directory any more.

I know enough to know that we weren't "meant" for each other, but I wonder if I'll ever again have such anonymous, wild and wet sex?