... Way back when, age 20, before I was old, fat, and ugly, I enjoyed watching myself (in a mirror) when I practiced the masturbatory arts. I was a college sophomore with a dorm room on the eighth floor. The room had a large picture window facing the street and an apartment building on the opposite side, not more than 40 feet away. I had determined that anyone looking into my room from the top floor of the apartment building would see nothing of me below my belly button, and so it was my habit, when overcome by the need for relief, to open the shades, lean a large mirror again the wall beneath the window, and enjoy the reflection of my beautiful body as I pumped my equally beautiful, fully distendedorgan.... My pleasure was tempered somewhat by two mishaps. The first, when I was fully engorged and about ready to come, I looked up briefly to find staring at me two women standing on the roof of the apartment building, from where they could indeed see the territory well below my belly button. I quickly dropped to the floor, closed the drapes, and lost my tumescence. On the other occasion, a few weeks later, having ascertained that there were no people on the roof of the apartment building, I was happily working myself when my roommate showed up unexpectedly. I heard him utter a few expletives about my having locked the door. I heard him unlock the door with his own key. But being at the point of no return, I could do nothing but shoot my wad as he (I assume) watched, whereupon I scurried past him, bare-assed, into the communal rest room to clean myself up. When I returned, having wrapped myself in a towel, I put the mirror back in the dresser, and wiped the splatter off the floor. He never said anything about what he had seen, and I never asked. Perhaps he was as embarrassed as I.

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