This doesn't count as fantasy- since I actually acted on it, and it wasn't something that was my own idea.... I simply allowed myself to be both victim and accomplice to the act.

I met a man via an adult phone chat once, and over several (very hot) whispered late night conversations, we discovered a common ground- He fantasized of stalking a woman- watching her in secret, in shadows, undressing in her window, as if just for him...  And I found that enormously exciting.

I lived in the corner apartment an old brick walk-up loft above several 9-5 businesses, with windows running 180 degrees, on a fairly main street, but close enough and high enough that it would take a determined eye to spot me, should I leave the curtains open and wander in my skin from window to window- there were no adjascent apartments, but someone who knew where to look might see...

I quickly agreed, so I wouldn't lose my nerve, to be his stalking, peeping subject, and I told him where I lived. Risky as HELL to be sure in a big city, even in a building with security doors, it would not have been very difficult to smash a window- the door was practically in the alley, and late at night, no one would ever hear it... Clearly, since I'm telling the tale, he respected the boundaries that I did set, and never crossed my threshold... but we did get close enough to touch, just once or twice.

He called me late one evening, told me he was nearby. That he would come and park across the narrow cross street where he could sit without suspicion and watch me. He told me to come to a window on that side, and slowly expose my breasts, caress them, before just as slowly, undressing completely for him- that I would see his car, a a little black import with smoked windows- parked across the street, and asked if it would get me wet to know he was watching my naughty llittle show... of course, I told him... I could almost hear him smiling as he hung up the phone. I obeyed him to the letter, and soon after I'd undressed, I watched him drive away. 

A few days passed before he called again- I knew from our conversations- and his rather expensive little car- that he was if not wealthy, comfortably well off, and lived in a district more than half an hour's drive from my own, even in good traffic, so I hadn't expected him to play this little game with me too often. When he called this time, he murmured to me, pleased with himself...

"Come to the window... I'm waiting for you."

He'd bought a cel phone just for the purpose, at a point when disposable phones were still quite pricey... I was flattered as hell, of course, not to mention almost instantly dripping at the thought of hearing his shuddering breath, imagining his hand slipping into his fly and pulling out his cock- stroking it hungrily as he watched me from the darkness... I did as he asked, and as I slithered my fingers across my breasts, I made sure he got a nice silhouette view of my stiffening nipples as I slid my little tank top over my head. HIs breath *did* shudder alright- but his voice was low and even- smiling again as he spoke...

"What a hot little slut you are- I can see how much you enjoy being watched. Slide your fingers along your wet pussy for me... let me see you make yourself cum for anyone who looks to see."

I did that too- got right up in the window, close. He couldn't have seen much more than a silhouette. Still, it was obvious what I was doing, I'm sure. I rocked against my wet fingers, and came quickly, just knowing he was there, watching my every move.

"Good girl. That was very good."

And he drove away.

I was a performer at that time- a musician- and performed with a band at a local tavern weekly, playing southern rock and folk rock and classic rock music to borderline bikers and junkies- the place was a dive. After our trysts in the window, he told me he wanted to see me closer- wanted to see me, and see me not notice, or know who he was. I told him about the bar, and when I'd be playing, told him to come and see me there- I only know he did because he called later to tell me how much he'd enjoyed it.

But he wanted to be closer. Close enough to touch me... How could we do that?  I thought of just the thing- a few blocks down along our main street was a big second hand store, with an island of dressing rooms right in the middle of the store.  He loved the idea, and told me to be there at a certain time the following day. He told me to pick out some clothes and go to the dressing rooms, and enter one, without locking it. He told me to bring a bandanna, and to pull it out once I was in the dressing room- to strip to my skin, except for high heels, and then blindfold myself, so I wouldn't see him. In a fit of nerves, I called a good friend, told him the story, and asked him to come and run point- just in case, as a sort of a safety valve. He agreed.

And I was there, in the dressing room, naked as a porn star, in high heels, cold under the air conditioning so my nipples stood right at attention... and... the door kept slipping. The latch was broken, so it wouldn't stay closed unless I locked it. With a little inspiration, I hung my panties on the knob, and caught them in the door to wedge it closed. Then I tied on the blindfold, and just waited. I was safely in public, with a guardian nearby- but it felt so raunchy to be standing there naked, waiting for a stranger to peek in and get a glimpse- to maybe reach out and cop a little feel... then slip away anonymously...

He did, of course... I felt the little breeze as the door opened slowly, heard his familiar, shuddering breath, Heard him whisper,

'Such a good slut... turn for me- turn slowly... that's it. I'd love to fuck you right where you stand... right against that wall." I obeyed and turned slowly for him, he enjoyed the view, then he was gone and I took off the blindfold just in time to realize the door was slipping open again- he'd taken my panties with him. He thanked me for them later on the phone, as I fingered my cunt in the window again for him.

We played in the window for several weeks, him taunting me with dirty whispers, telling me how to move my hands, asking me to wear certain things for him... He'd been close enough to have touched me- seen my breasts under fluorescent lights- and I still had no idea what he looked like. He loved that, and teased me with it quite a bit.

It ended there- my mother passed away, and I called him and told him that I had to stop. I just lost my heart for such filthy behavior, and he respected that, and left me alone. He may have stalked me every day since, and I'd have never known... I never saw his face at all, but I think of his voice and shuddering breath very very often...