Chicago Hotel Voyeur

Turning the binoculars' knob slowly back and forth, I finally found that sweet spot where the image of the top floor hotel room was at its sharpest. It was across the street from my hotel, where I was attending a business meeting. I was fortunate that my room was on an upper floor as well and that the Chicago winter night air was still and clear. I targeted their room for it stood out from all the others, curtain drawn back as far as it could go, all lights blazing at 150 watt power, walls painted a bright reflective white, bed sheets drawn completely down. A woman was on the bed supine and nude. Full body visible, she had a medium build with short blond hair and generous breasts. "Oh, yeah, baby," I muttered softly to myself. In all my years of hotel voyeurism, it was so, so rare to get such an exquisite view straightaway. I took my cock out of my pants and teased it slowly, wishing and expecting to see more. She laid motionless for a minute or two, then bent her knees and spread her legs wide. I knew something good was going to happen, so I stroked my cock a little more urgently. It stiffened magnificently. At the opening, beads of sticky pre-cum were starting to form. A nude man suddenly came into the binoculars' field of view. He sat down on the bed, a big grin beaming on his face. He shifted below her, aiming his head directly at her crotch. He buried his face deep in her snatch and moved his mouth up and down her vaginal lips. She thrust her pelvis back and forth; her chest started to rise and fall faster and faster. I've never seen anything like this before, and I didn't know how long this would last. I slowed my stroking, keeping myself just a hair under the threshold of orgasm. I've got make this jackpot last, I promised myself. After five minutes of pure bliss for the three of us, the man lifted his head, smiling playfully but lecherously. He took a small dark tubular object out from the folds of the bed, a mini vibe, by the looks of it, and inserted it into his woman's cunt. She took a deep breath and arched her back. Her thigh muscles contracted and twitched. Although I couldn't tell, I surmised this toy must have been vibrating on "high." I was reeling from all this, heart pounding and close to hyperventilating. In my past voyeuristic exploits, the most I usually got at hotels was a split-second flash of a tit, a couple lounging in their underwear, or a vaguely defined humping shadow projected against a curtain. But, this was special. He took out the mini-vibe, tossed it aside, and climbed on top of her. He fucked her hard and deep for several moments. I grasped my cock harder and stroked faster and faster. Then it happened. He thrust violently in climax. And, I followed a split-second later, shooting ropes of semen into my hand, the white spooge pooling in my palm, several drops of hot fluid falling on the carpet. The couple relaxed, and after a minute or so got off the bed and walked into the kitchenette. They sat down on the chairs nude and had a post-coital cigarette. I cleaned myself off and went to bed as sexually exhausted as they must have been. It's been years since this happened. But, I've kept this prize of a memory and often fantasize about this horny couple while I masturbate. Voyeurism is much like a game of chance: it may not pay off all the time, but when it does, it is precious.