Sometimes I catch myself staring at my reflection in the penthouse windows and wondering if people in the skyscrapers across from us can see me... and if they like what they see. My tight little body pressed against the glass, fingers tracing circles around my nipples while my other hand slides between my thighs. It’s thrilling, knowing I could be someone’s secret fantasy right now—just like how he is mine. Today I found one of his worn t-shirts crumpled in the laundry room and I couldn’t resist burying my face in it, inhaling his scent while my pussy dripped onto the floor. I wonder if he knows how often I touch myself imagining his hands replacing mine, his cock stretching me instead of my fingers... but no, I’d die of embarrassment if he ever found out. Maybe tomorrow I’ll ‘accidentally’ leave my vibrator charging in the kitchen again—just to see if he notices. (P.S. City lights look even prettier when you’re orgasming against a cold window.)