Janie was married, but I liked to watch her from my office anyway.

She wore tight skirts of appropriate lengths. Pencil skirts to be exact. She also wore high heels but not ridiculously high. Her blouses were always demure, but there was no hiding a body like hers.

Her fashion choices accented her God-given body beautifully, and every time she brought me a file or asked me a question, my dick got hard. And when she leaned over my desk to point out some number or other on a spreadsheet, my cock got even harder.

More than once I’d had to go into my private bathroom and jerk off, remembering the brush of her full breast against my arm or the smell of her perfume or the tickle of a shiny lock of hair that touched my skin.

I started to wonder if those moments of contact were innocent... Read More