I was 'accidentally' photographed at the park. I found some of these photographs in my mail box. Who had taken the photographs and how did that person know where I lived? Several weeks later I had a photograph in my mail box, this one has me dressing in my bathroom. The third delivery included photographs of me in my bathroom combing my hair after my bath, I was nude.

It was then that I became obsessed with finding the mystery photographer. I walked around nude in my apartment, but the only photographs I was delivered were in my bathroom. Other photographs came with me at different places, the store, walking to the train, at lunch. Whoever it was followed me, but only my bathroom had photographs in myapartment. I started masturbating in the bathroom and I received photographs. All the photographs I had collected showed the bathroom door. I searched and found a hole above my mirror. It dawned on me that whoever took the photographs had access to the apartment next door.

I masturbated facing the mirror, slowly stroking knowing I was being watched. It was fun, I no longer cared, I took the photographs and kept them in a folder, by then I had several dozen. Whoever this was, was also developing the photographs. I blew my admirer a kiss, I winked. The hole was covered over the mirror. I decided to go next door. The woman who answered the door was not going to let me in. I questioned her and she lived there with her son. I waited for him to come home from school.

Once I knew his schedule I stopped him a block from the apartment building we lived in and invited him in. He was nervous, I laid out the folder with the photographs, I masturbated in front of him, let him take it all in. I lowered his pants and mouthed his penis. He was a young man with a grown up penis. When he was unable to control himself I showed what to do with his semen.

For the following years he was my young lover, he was very adaptive, he enjoyed this relationship. I enjoyed it too. I enjoyed him, I enjoyed his body. One afternoon a man knocked on my door, he worked for the school. He wanted to know why he came to my apartment. This was not something I could let him discover and I put an end to his visits. At least I had the photographs.

I remember him every day, he was truly delicious.