Valentine's Exhibitionism/Voyeurism

As if an electrical jolt of electricity shocked his mind from legal matters to lecherous ones, oh, my God, that was so hot to see a flash of her white panty. Having looked up just in time, he couldn't believe his luck. He couldn't believe he saw her panty. An attractive woman, she was wearing a short skirt with bright, white panties and the sight of her panty covered mound excited him.

Forgetting about the preoccupation of work for a moment, after the woman sitting across from him flashed him her panties, exhibitionism and voyeurism was a game that he was now more interested in playing. Panty flashing was just the game that he needed to play to take his mind off his court case and get him through the long train ride. Wishing and wanting her to flash him again, taking care for her not to catch him looking, he hoped she'd uncross her legs and cross her legs the other way, while flashing him her panties again and again. Just as he thought that, he couldn't believe it, when she did just that. First one flash, when she uncrossed her legs and then another flash, when she crossed them again the other way.

Oh, my God. Better than playing games on his iPad, he wondered if she flashed him on purpose, perhaps knowing that he was looking, or by mere accident because her skirt was so short. He looked up at her face but, except for her long, blonde hair, her visage was hidden by her book. Having seen her waiting for the train before and now trying to remember what she looked like, remembering that she was pretty, he wished he could remember what she looked like.

He wondered if her face looked as good as her legs. Open to having a girlfriend, especially one so sexy, already fantasizing about her naked, he wondered if she was available or already in a relationship. Surely someone who looks like her would already be taken. Maybe she was just a frustrated, young housewife getting her kicks flashing a stranger with a bit of flashing fun.

Oh, my God, this is so hot sitting across from a woman, who doesn't know that she's flashing her panties, every time she crosses her legs, or does she know. What does it matter if she knows or not, so long as he rewarded with a flash of her panty? Still, he wondered, does she know he was watching her? Is that why she just flashed him her panty? Does she know she just flashed him her panty? Then, when she uncrossed her legs again, she left them uncrossed this time. With her knees tightly pressed together and her short skirt flatly in place, his speculation whether she was flashing him accidentally or not, along with the show, was over. Or was it?

When he looked at her legs again, even with her knees pressed tightly together, there was a triangular opening that ran from her mid thigh to her crotch. As if her panty clad pussy belonged to an Angel, the rising sun that streamed across the aisle, lit up her panty clad pussy, as if he was having a religious moment. Fixated on the clear view of her triangular patch of panty, he wondered about her. So hyped up with work that he had forfeited his personal life for his business one, he forgot his loneliness and how horny he always was. Now willing to pass the time with a friendly, albeit flashing female, instead of always being so alone, he wondered what it would be like to talk to her, to touch her, to kiss her, and to pull down her bright, white panty and lick her, before fucking her.

From what he could see of her breasts, partially hidden by her arms and her book, she had a nice rack and he imagined feeling her body through her clothes while kissing her, before reaching beneath her short skirt to feel her panty clad ass and push her bikini panty aside to finger her pussy. He wondered what she'd be like in bed. Horny with the early morning hour and from his unaddressed, sexual frustration, other than with his hand, he couldn't remember when he had sex last. He wondered if she sucked cock and if he could cum in her mouth. He wondered if she swallowed. He wondered what was her name.

Without having even seen her face, without even having met her, he was already having a sexual fantasy about her. Obviously, working too long and too hard, he needed some down time. If his firm wasn't so stringent about sexual harassment laws, there are a few secretaries that he'd love to give oral dictation to, while alone with them in his apartment. Only, trying to prove his worth to the partners of the firm, not even having the time to have a dog, he didn't have time for a personal life and the demands on his time to have a girlfriend.

Then, ever so slightly, with each jostled bump and sway of the train, as if they were two boats attached to the dock by their moorings, her knees drifted apart ever so slowly. Mesmerized by the sight of her drifting knees parting ever so slightly and ever so slowly, as if their parting was his very own, personal invitation to look and to see, with each gentle movement of the train, her short skirt climbed higher, while her knees parted wider. With every parting movement of her knees by the motion of the train, he was rewarded with more of a view of her inner thighs, the inner sanctum sanctimonious.

"Hallelujah," he whispered under his breath.

Without having even seen her face, he knew she was pretty. Judging her by her shapely form, figuring she was a runner, a swimmer, a dancer, and/or a skater, she had killer legs. Then, no doubt preoccupied with her book, as if her knees were his gates to Heaven and her thighs the highway to the promise land, Nirvana opened wide and she sat, as if she was a drunken sailor in a bar on shore leave. When her knees parted just enough to give him a clear and uninterrupted view of her panty, he was enthralled.

Having not had sex in a long while, he imagined kneeling before her and parting her knees wider, as she still read her book. He imagined reaching his hand between her legs to touch her, to feel her, and to cup her panty clad pussy. He imagined pushing her panty aside to finger her. Then, reaching his other hand beneath her book, he imagined feeling her ample breast through her blouse, first one and then the other, before unbuttoning her blouse and removing her big breasts from her bra, while she still turned her page and read her book.

"Hi," she said looking up at him and interrupting his sexual fantasy. As if he was deep in a hypnotic trance, she caught him staring at her panty. Denying him any more of a view of her panty, she closed her book, closed her knees, and crossed her legs, this time without flashing him her panty. "This ride is excruciatingly too long," she said looking at him with a smile, as if waiting for his reply. When none came, she introduced herself. "I'm Diane."

Already deep in a sexual fantasy about her, to return to reality took a moment for him to realize that she was addressing him. It wasn't until she said her name, that he erased his mind of her panty clad pussy, to look up at her pretty face. Diane, her name is Diane. He looked up at her face and, he was right, she was very pretty, prettier than any of those secretaries at work that he had been lusting over. Without doubt, remembering how she looked that day, she was prettier than Cindy.

"Larry," he said. "Pleased to meet you, Diane. Sorry, I was thinking about a case," he said holding up a handful of papers, as if he needed to use that as evidence that he wasn't staring at her exposed panties.

That's how they met more than 5 years ago. He couldn't believe it's been five years. If only he could capture and bottle the excitement that he had the first time she flashed him her panty, he'd never think of having sex with Cindy. He knew just as he loved her that she loved him. Just as he wanted to have children one day, she's been pressuring him to have a baby. Since there's no one he'd want to have a child with other than with her, they should get married, he thought.

Yet, he needed to make his career mark first and if he wins this case, he'll be golden. With so much pressure to perform, there was so much competition and he didn't want to be cut, as so many junior lawyers had already been cut from the firm. Still, especially now that she threw him out on Valentine's night, he missed her. If she was here right now, he'd kiss her, really kiss her, before asking her to marry him.

With his head pressed against the cool window glass of his hotel room, as if an icepack to a bad headache that eased away his frustration and weariness, he decided to surprise her with some flowers tomorrow morning, after hitting the jewelry store to buy her some bling, a diamond, maybe even a diamond engagement ring. Then, he'll make dinner reservations at the most expensive restaurant in town and, in the way he was feeling about her and missing her now, maybe he'd even propose. Then...wait one minute.

"What the Hell? What's this? No frigging way. Are you kidding me? I don't believe my eyes. This is too much. I can't believe my luck. I can't believe what I'm seeing."

When he looked out his hotel window, the light went on in the room directly across and a floor down from him. He watched a woman walking back and forth unpacking her suitcase and neatly folding her clothes to put away in drawers and hanging the rest in her closet. Because they weren't on the same floor, unless she stood closer to the window, he couldn't see above her shoulders. Unable to see her face and wishing he could see her face, he was glad that he could see her hot body.

He's a voyeur and for him to get sexually excited, unless really horny, he needed to see the face of the woman, along with all the other body parts. Only seeing her from her shoulders down, he wished she was in the room on the same floor directly across him. Nonetheless, from where he was watching her, unless she looked up, it was an undetectable vantage point for a voyeur. Horny enough that he wished she would, he hoped she'd start removing her clothes. With his head pressed against the window and peering down, unless she stood at the window and looked up at him, she'd never know he was standing there watching her.

"Bingo!"

As soon as he thought of her stripping, as soon as he thought what she'd look like in her lingerie or naked, she was standing by her mirror unbuttoning blouse.

"Fuck me. Are you kidding me? This is too good to be true. At least today won't be a total loss. If nothing else, in the way that I needed and wanted to masturbate over Cindy's naked body, now I can masturbate over this sexy woman undressing."

He watched the woman undressing and, with the body she had, an even better body than Cindy had, he wished she was his girlfriend. With someone like her in his life, without a doubt, he'd never forget her birthday, their anniversary, or Valentine's Day. If she was his girlfriend, taking her off the market and keeping her all to himself, he'd get down on his knee and ask her to marry him. Slowly and methodically, as if she were a call girl undressing for some VIP big shot in a strip club, as if preoccupied in thought, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and cuffs, before flaying open her blouse and removing it to expose her pink, lacy bra.

With each unbuttoned button blouse, he stared to see what he could see and what she was showing. With each unbuttoned button of her blouse, as if given the pass to his own personal, private striptease show, his excitement grew. Then, when she removed her blouse and paraded around her room in just her bra and short skirt, she was so sexy.

"Oh, my God. Oh, baby, nice tits. This is one sexy bitch," he said to his reflection in the window. "If she looks this good in her bra, I can't wait to see her in her panty. I can't wait to see her in her panty and bra. I can't wait to see her tits. This is so much better than the hotel's X rated movies."

He watched her hanging up her blouse, before returning to her place in front of the mirror, his best vantage point to watch her undress in the room. With her drapes wide open and the light on, doesn't she know that she can be seen? Maybe she does know she can be seen. Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe she's an exhibitionist.

He wish Diane was an exhibitionist. He wished Diane would flash other men her panty in the way she flashed him her panty on the train, when they first met. Returning his focus back to the sexy stranger, he wondered if she hoping that someone was watching her undress? Maybe she was purposely undressing for someone. He looked around at the rooms that he could see from his angle that faced her to see if she was giving someone a show and to see if anyone else was watching her, but all the drapes that he could see facing her room were closed. The only drapes that he could see were open were his drapes and her drapes.

A voyeur's dream come true, with her drapes wide open and her light on, first he saw Cindy walking around her bedroom naked. Then, he watch her giving Andy the kind of wild sex he wished Diane would give him. Now it's this sexy stranger not caring who's watching her undress that has returned the voyeuristic excitement he had, when watching Cindy, before Diane interrupted his fun. If only Diane could be so unabashedly sexy and wantonly slutty. What are the odds that in the course of one week, he's witness to another voyeuristic show?

Then, when she reached behind her and unbuttoned and unzipped her short skirt, he was riveted to the window. Holding on to the top of her skirt with her fingertips, before allowing her skirt to fall to the floor and collect around her ankles, as if he was there sliding down her thighs, falling for her, and crumpling to her feet, she wore matching pink, bikini panties. How hot was that? With her back facing the window, she bent at the waist to retrieve her skirt and carefully folded it, before walking over to the bureau to put it away in the drawer. When she bent at the waist, he looked to see if he could see her face, but with her backside facing the window, he was sidetracked looking at her beautiful round ass.

"Oh, my God, she has an incredible ass. I'd love to tap that ass. Fuck, I wish Diane looked like that and had an ass like her. Why can't I have a hot girlfriend like her?"

He watched her walk back to her place in front of the mirror. Then, she reached around behind her and unhooked her bra. Seemingly to take forever, before she peeled her bra from her breasts and removed her bra cups from her C cup breasts, he held his breath waiting to see her tits. He saw them in the mirror, before seeing them straight on, when she turned to toss her bra on the bed.

"Oh, my God. Look at that. She has amazing knockers. I'd love to fondle those breasts. I'd love to suck those nipples. Better breasts than Cindy's breasts, those are natural breasts, for sure, and not some plastic surgeon's creation."

Then, as if a stripper on stage, she wiggled out of her bikini panties. Bending at the waist again to remove them off her feet, she exposed the inside of her ass and pink pussy to him. Seeing as much of her as her gynecologist would, seeing more of her than any voyeur hoped to see, after missing most of the Andy and Cindy climaxing show, especially when Andy gave Cindy a cum bath, he couldn't believe his good fortunate now. Only, he wished he could see what she looked like, so that he could fantasize about having sex with her, while stroking his cock.

If he had a choice of seeing Cindy naked or watching his sexy stranger undress, he'd chose watching his sexy stranger. If he had a choice of watching Andy and Cindy having sex or watching this gorgeously hot woman strip naked, he'd pick the latter over the former. Watching a slow striptease show was always his first choice. Without a doubt, with a better body than Cindy, she was smoking hot.

"What a body. Oh, my God, what a body. She has an incredible body. Having a better body than Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Lopez, Halle Berry, and even Blake Lively, he wondered what it would be like to have sex with a woman that had a killer body like her."

Then, taking a step back not to be seen, in case she looked up at his darkened window, he watched her turn and walk to the window, while holding up a big piece of paper with large, bold numbers written in black magic marker, 614. Taping the paper to the window, the paper was large enough to block him from seeing her face. Damn, he'd have loved to see what she looked like, so that he could imagine her stripping again, while he stroked his cock in bed tonight.

He wondered what the significance of the numbers were. He wondered what her name was, maybe Tiffany, LuLu, Crystal, or Veronica. With the only thing he could see was her perfectly symmetrical round breasts, her blonde trimmed pussy, her blonde hair peeking out the sides of the paper that she held up to her face and that was now taped to the window, and her unbelievable ass, he so wanted to see what she looked like. If she looked anything like her body, she'd be beautiful, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"What the Hell is that number, I wonder? It's not the time."

Scratching his head, he looked at his watch and it was 8:30pm.

"It's not the date because today is February 14th, Valentine's Day. Wait one minute. Are you kidding me? No fucking way! That's her room number. I bet that's her room number. Fuck me. Oh, my God, 614 is her room number. Did she see me watching her? Does she know that I was watching her? She must know that I've been watching her strip naked. Is she inviting me to her room? Is she inviting me to have sex with her? Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What should I do?"

Too excited to be embarrassed that she caught him looking, he didn't know what to do. If he went to her room, he'd be cheating on Diane. After accusing him so many times of cheating, it would serve her right, if he finally did cheat on her. Frozen with indecision and paralyzed with fear that he was taking the first step in ending his relationship with Diane for the chance to have a sexual affair with a woman, who undoubtedly has the best body he's ever seen, he analyzed his options, in the way he analyzed his clients, witnesses, and cases.

"Do I dare knock at her door? Should I stay faithful to Diane, my longtime girlfriend, who threw me out in the cold? Maybe I should get with this woman and kick Diane to the curb in the way that she kicked me to the curb. Maybe, as a way to pass the time and soothe my loneliness, I could just go talk to the woman and take her downstairs for a drink in the bar, that is, after she puts on some clothes. Maybe, since I hate eating alone and haven't eaten, I could invite her to dinner. Only, what if she wants to dine in the room.? What if she prefers room service? What if she wants to have sex with me, as much as I want to have sex with her? Shit! What do I do? What should I do?"

Making a bold move, with his hormones determining his destiny and his horniness determining his fate, he took the elevator down to one floor and walked around the long rectangular corridor to her room. Uncharted ground, he was so nervous. He was so excited. He was so horny.

"Here it is, 614. This is it," he said lightly knocking and noticing that the door was left ajar.

"It's open," said a voice from within. Even her voice was sexy.

Wait a minute. Hold on. This is New York. What if this is a trap? What if he's being setup for a robbery? What if there are muggers on the other side of the door waiting to steal his wallet, his ring, and his watch? What if this was a police sting for prostitution and his picture would air on the evening news? Nah, she hasn't asked him for money and he'd never offer money for sex. What the Hell? He'll just see what she looks like, so that he can masturbate later, over her undressing and leave.

Ever so slowly, without stepping in the room, he pushed open the door. The drapes were still open but the sign was gone from the window. Still naked, she was on the bed with her back to him and to the door. There were red rose pedals sprinkled everywhere, all over the carpet, the bed, and her and written in red lipstick on the mirror read, Happy Valentine's Day.