Erotic Story: My Ogling Affair

My Ogling Affair

I saw her for the first time on the stairs in the gym. I was going up to the exercise room as she was going down to reception. As is my habit from so many years of being a voyeur I checked her out with a quick and hopefully fairly discrete glance. Clearly a member of staff, probably a personal trainer, she was wonderfully slim with legs that were excitingly long and lithe. She was wearing those incredible tight, black, leggings that girls wear when working out, which made her legs look even shapelier and longer than they were. Although her tits were clearly smaller than I would normally go for they were more than compensated for by her long, black hair. Looking over my shoulder after we had passed each other I saw that it was half way down her back and was just gently wavy; also I got the first glimpse of her bum that has become such a feature in my imagination ever since. As I walked into the exercise room away from her I was already imagining the hair tumbling down over her bare breasts and then as she leaned forward onto my bare stomach, thighs and, naturally, raging erection.

Over the next few weeks I saw her around a few times and we even smiled at each other, but nothing was said. It was clear that she was not a PT as I never saw her giving any lessons and generally she sat at a desk in an open area just outside the exercise room or was on reception. Several times when I was working out or was on a cross trainer she came and tidied the place up picking up mats, wiping down the machines and putting out new paper towels. By now as she walked past me my gaze followed her. My eyes feasted themselves on her gorgeous arse that seemed to be naked inside the tantalisingly thin material that was stretched tightly across the two gorgeous cheeks.

I was on a walking machine and she was tidying up when I made my first real lustful stare at her; my previous ones had been fairly lustful, but were not full on ogles as this turned out to be. I was not sure, but I felt that there was also a touch of a response from her and that, of course, is every voyeur's dream.

She was tidying up the exercise area that was in front of my machine. Some untidy and unthoughtful sods had left mats and loads of small pieces of equipment on the floor. As usual she was wearing those incredible tight black leggings that clung to her legs and arse like a second skin. On top she had a pink, sleeveless workout top that had a high front and was also fashionably tight. Her small breasts were framed by the lycra and quite clearly she was, regrettably, wearing as bra as the black strap protruded outside the pink top, but then that was just yet another little thrill for me.

She has a wonderfully upright posture and walks with a slight, but not unsavoury swagger. She has the look of an Irish colleen about her in that the paleness of her skin is accentuated by the darkness of her hair. This is especially so on her half-bared shoulders where as she walks the lustrous hair caresses them just as I imagined my lips were. I doubt that she would be termed as classically beautiful as her nose is probably slightly on the large side and her nice lips may not be quite as full as beauty requires. That said she is certainly stunning, attractive, great to look at and so fucking sexy that she is without doubt instant hard on material.

After walking round the room and replacing the paper towels she started to pick up the equipment from the floor. Not for her I noticed with extreme excitement the bending at the knee and nearly kneeling. No for this voyeur's delight, it was bending from the waist with her bum in the air. Both facing away from me and side on, but oddly never facing completely at me, she would bend down with her legs straight and collect the stuff from the floor. The sight of her bottom glaring at me with the lycra stretched seeming, but inevitably unrealistically, as if it was about to rip was amazing. And then when she had picked up the weights, skipping ropes, mats or whatever she would walk away from me to place them in the storage area once more bending from the waist to do that. It was so easy to persuade myself that the sway of her hips, the wiggle of her bottom and the wobbling of her cheeks were more extreme than usual as she knew that my gaze was focused so acutely on her. It was more difficult, but just about manageable, to imagine she was doing it for me. Even more difficult, but again just about doable was the thought that she was an exhibitionist who enjoyed both my attention and flashing to me. Once or twice she smiled and I nodded. I wondered whether she knew what I was thinking and what a fantastic spectacle she was creating. I doubted it, but hoped that she might.

She could not be more than twenty-five, which is exactly half my age. She is gorgeous, sexy, near beautiful and I am balding, slightly paunchy and, at best, ok. Yet in my imagination my deficiencies did not matter. She is oblivious to them, our age difference has disappeared and in the deep recesses of my lurid, slightly perverted mind we were lovers. I could so easily visualise her naked with that lithe, lean body wrapped round mine and my hands gripping the cheeks of her bottom. My god what I have not done to that glorious pair of orbs in my imagination.

I moved the position of where I did my stretching and floor exercises. Previous to discovering her I had used a small quiet room off the main exercise area, but she rarely came there so I started to use the area near to the desk at which she sat outside on the big landing. That meant that I could see her more often and consistently. It also meant that as she walked past me to carry out her various duties that I could ogle her magnificent arse, shapely legs and beautiful hair.

I knew that I was becoming obsessed by her and in my wilder flights of fancy we were lovers. In the more down to earth realism of her working in a gym and me being a member we never spoke, although more frequently now we made eye contact. I would see her at unexpected times. Again as I went upstairs she came down, but more wonderfully as she went up I followed her with my face just a few feet from the undulating, erotic beauty of her bum. When I entered the gym sometimes she was behind the reception desk and as I went to the pool area clad in just my shorts she came out of it. As we passed she would nod or smile and I would look into her eyes. I saw that they were brown and large and were an almost perfect almond shape. They, her hair and her body now made her in my eyes beautiful. In my mind now, she was not just attractive or striking, sexy and desirable, but beautiful. I idolised her.

I was tempted to try making conversation, but knew that it would be futile and would lead nowhere. In my deviant mind I would rather have her as a fantasy lover than a 'mate to whom I chatted.' Of course, if there had have been a realistic chance of fucking her then I would have gone for it.

From where I had now started doing my workouts stretching and doing sit ups I had a good view of her at the desk where she tapped away on a PC. As I worked out, I lo0ked at her as she rather intently stared at the PC screen or used the keyboard. I would get little kicks when she would look away from the screen and glance towards me. Our eyes would lock. It would last for no time at all, but would send a shock of arousal through me. Holding her gaze, I would smile or nod and that occasionally got a small grin from her but nothing else.

Nevertheless, every five or ten minutes she would get up and walk past me to perform some chore or the other in other parts of the building. As she sidled past me, so my eyes would not leave her gorgeous arse. Gently undulating as she walked the soft flesh inside the thin material of her tight leggings was so appealing. Each cheek wobbled and swayed almost as if they were, music and were in tune with each other. Try as I might and boy did I try, I could see no hint of anything under the leggings. There were certainly no panty lines as on many other women and there was not even the slightest sign of a thong slipping between the cheeks. She just had to be naked under there and of course that just made me want to look even more.

The wonderfully rounded, perfectly symmetrical orbs of the young woman's arse, I still did not know her name, made me want to do other things as well, of course. I wanted to kneel behind her, grip her hips and bury my face in its erotic softness. I wanted to peel the thin lycra down exposing the creamy flesh and licking and kissing those lovely swells. I wanted to suck and chew the flesh, run my fingers over it, into and then down the slit between them and most of all I wanted to get my tongue in her crease and press the tip of that against her rosebud.

I tried but was unable to work out her rota so I never knew for sure whether I would see her or not; the level of disappointment I felt on the days when she was not there was extreme. However, by not knowing made me go to the gym more frequently and I got into the routine of four or five visits a week so, if nothing else my infatuation with her helped me get fit!

Where I lay on a mat on the floor I was near to a door with the word store on it; I had no idea what was inside. One day I was lying on the mat casting furtive glances at her as she worked at her PC. She stood up, nice and slowly just like a black cat entangling itself from it slumbers. She was so graceful and lithe, so very feline I thought. Running her hand through her hair and pushing it from her face she stretched her top across her chest framing her small, but seemingly wonderfully pert breasts. Looking towards me, but regrettably not right at me she walked languidly towards me. My heart started to pound even more as my imagination went into overdrive as slowly she got nearer and nearer. Our eyeline met a few times, but as she got closer they lost focus. She was obviously going to the door marked store that was just behind me. That meant she would almost have to stand over me. God I was so aroused as her foot in the flat training shoe that was hardly more than a sock came to rest near to my shoulder. 'Could I get away with doing a stretch and touching her?' I wondered almost immediately telling myself the answer. But I could look and I did. Up her long, slender calf muscles, her, longer, but fuller thighs and of course onto the panacea of her arse. From this angle, looking up, it was rounder and fuller, but so magnificently shapely.

She did not go into the room, but after unlocking it with the keypad she simply bent at the waist, leaned forward and reached inside to get some sprays. By so doing she raised her back foot from the floor and I was able to look up between her legs to stare at the place I so wanted to be. I could not say for certain that I saw the outline of her cunt lips, but I convinced myself that I did. It seemed to me that she stood like that just a little longer than was necessary.

She was now beginning to confirm a suspicion that had started a week or so ago. She was beginning to play. I had experienced this once before with a neighbour who quite often showed me more than she should and very obviously let me know that she knew exactly what I was doing. Knew, but was not up for anything other than playing me at my own game. My lovely gym worker was now starting to do that, yes she was starting to play, well I thought so. The leggings, if it was possible, were tighter, the sway of her hips and the wiggle of her bottom were now more pronounced, her sauntering style of walking that was a bit like that of a catwalk model, was more cunt led than before and her eye contact with me was tighter, longer and more focused.

Having been an avowed voyeur most of my adult life, I knew the game and could see how she would, just like the neighbour who had gone as far as baring her breasts for me, play it. I could look, she might flaunt and flash, but keep your trap shut and your fucking hands to yourself. That was the way it was, they were the rules. And deep down that was fine by me. Of course I wanted to see her naked. Naturally I wanted to stroke and caress and of course I wanted to fuck her, what fifty year-old would not want to fuck a lithe beauty like her, but that's just not how it is, that's not the game!

I noticed that now and then she would wear a polo type top, usually pink or yellow; it was not tucked in but was loose round her waist. With the skin tight black leggings she looked fantastic. That was made even more so when she moved or bent for the polo shirt would ride up or billow away from her and I would get flashes of her stomach or back. Not a lot in itself, but to an avowed looker like me it was a fair reward.

I was again on the walking machine in the main room. I had already got a great look at her full on when I came up the stairs and she had rewarded me with a small smile. She was wearing the yellow polo shirt and immediately I looked at her I noticed that she had all three buttons undone and not the usual two. Was that for me, was that my present, my reward I rather arrogantly and certainly hopefully thought? I watched her come into the room and walk languidly along it past the ogling no hopers and to the area that she had to clear up. That was right in front of me for I had positioned myself on a machine with a clear view of that area.

She glanced at me and again smiled as she walked to where the stuff had been left on the floor. Turning slowly so that her back was to me she bent over from the waist flaunting that fabulous arse at me and flashing some skin on her waist and back. She stood up and turned and our gazes locked. We were both knew the score, we were in tune and both were playing the game. I was the audience, the entire audience. Ok sure, others were there and they could see her, but they were not the in her audience. That was just me. I was her audience and she was my star. She knew it as well as I did. The other tossers had no idea what was going on.

She had left two small weights on the floor near my machine. She walked up to them and again our gazes locked. She stopped by the weights and looked down. She glanced up as if to give me a signal and then bent from the waist to pick them up. The polo shirt gaped and I saw right down it. My heart pounded when I at first thought 'she's not wearing a fucking bra,' but she was'. It was white, lacy and see-through and I got one of a hard core voyeur's biggest rewards a flash of pink. The lacy edge was cut low leaving a little of her areola bare and the diaphanous material hid none of her protruding, coral pink nipples that I knew, just knew were hard.

Standing and turning she walked away from me 'shaking her ass' in the most seductive way.

My obsession with her increased. Still, though, I did not have the pluck or whatever it needs to take it further. In an odd way, though, what we had was enough. She knew I was ogling her and she put on the subtle shows that an innate exhibitionist does naturally. She was not acting for me, but was reacting to me and that was what I desired.

Of course I fantasised about her. Of course I lusted for her and of course I wanted her. But I knew it would never happen in reality, but it could and did so many times in my fantasies. I couldn't count just how many times I have fucked her in so many different positions in my mind and with my hand.

There were a number of other incidences. Events that to many might be unimportant and almost irrelevant, but to an experienced and committed voyeur they were little gems, joys beyond belief.

There was the time when I was in what had become my usual position where I could see her desk. Today she was working on the PC and although she had walked past a couple of times she had not moved to the store and seemed intent on some work she was doing on the PC. Several times she had run her hand through her hair almost caressing it. On one occasion she did that with both hands simultaneously, which of course stretched the black lycra top accentuating her pert tits. Was there the hint of the outline of her nipple?

Then as she stared at the screen clearly concentrating hard she slid her had into the waist of the leggings pushing that down a little and flashing me the flesh round her hip. She slowly, languidly almost scratched herself just beneath her hip bone. Her red fingernails were accentuated against the paleness of her skin as she gently as good as caressed herself. My heart zinged when there was absolutely no hint of any panties or thong. Of course I imagined those long, red-tipped fingers sliding further down, her lying back in the chair, bringing her fingers round to the front and between her long legs that she would spread towards me as she brought herself off. Of course that did not happen anywhere but in my mind.

There were other even more minor things that got to me. Pulling her leggings up when she stood up so that at the front they moulded themselves to her fairly prominent pubic mound and at the back they slid into her crease. Adjusting her top so that she flashed the flesh of her chest or stomach; rubbing her hip as she walked and standing talking to another member of staff just a few yards from me with her back to me. As she did that she moved and swayed giving the most amazing views of her glorious arse and legs.

At home later I would undress her. But then I would mentally re-dress her so that when I undressed her again I got such lovely surprises. She would parade for me in a pair of little boy shorts. White, lacy and pretty much see-through the waist would circumvent her body just covering her bum crack at the back with the scalloped edges of the legs vanishing into that crack. Or black, silk French knickers with gaps at the top of the legs waiting firstly for my hand and then my lips to explore. A black thong and lacy top holdups with shiny stilettos and no bra. How erotic is that, naked above the waist and whore's gear beneath it. And of course as I ogled her at the gym my mind would recall how I had dressed her the previous evening and how I had fuc

I did more in my mind though. How could I not? She had the most awesome legs and the most wonderful arse I had ever fallen in love with. I stroked it, kissed it, licked and sucked it. I gently bit it and left trophy marks on the rotund cheeks. I tongued her crease, and pushed the tip of it against the skin round the puckered hole opening it up and lubricating it. U went further with my finger slipping into her so easily. I raised her legs so they were over my shoulders and pressed my cock against her hole enquiringly. She was a goer and wiggled back so I fucked her like that. And of course I could not resist the ultimate in arse worship, I spanked her.

She had become my obsession, my hobby almost. I thought about her endlessly and lived a part of my life through her. But then she was gone. Just like that, one day we were having a rabid affair and the next she vanished. I never saw her again.