Unexpected Voyeurism

There is something about voyeurism.  I appreciate it is creepy and illegal to go sneaking around and peeking through windows or setting up ever so small cameras in women or girls’ bathrooms. But what of the unexpected glimpse, or more?  The sudden thrill of seeing more than one might expect.  Noticing from your hotel room a couple at play in a lit window opposite unaware they can be seen; the unexpected sights in the countryside maybe just of a young woman taking a leak; perhaps hearing the sound of splashing when on a walk near a house and quietly coming up to hedge or fence behind the house and peeking through leaves or a knothole and seeing a group of naked girls in a swimming pool; or those pleasing little recollections by another contributor to SoloTouch of him watching what was going on in the next compartment on a corridorless train in the 1970s through tiny holes where screws had been removed - Copulation, fellatio and wanking all through the little spy holes.

My experiences have been various.  Nothing deliberate but sights just falling into my lap.  Well I remember watching a couple on Wimbledon Common.  I had stepped into a belt of trees and settled down and enjoyed a little nap one hot afternoon and had awoken to find not far from me a couple ‘at it.’  Really at it.  A few bushes sort of separating us and me hidden low to the ground.  I was not noticed at all; not, that is, until later when they finished and got up to leave.  They did not see me pull my teeshirt up, wriggle my jeans and pants down, bring my cock out into the sunshine and have a lovely wank whilst watching their fingering, sucking and copulation.

Had they looked, immediately after they very clearly came, they might have seen a raised and grinning face looking across at them just above the long grass.  Moreover, a little away from that face, sudden arcs of white liquid appearing up above the long grass and then falling down.   Having cum, I tugged jeans up again, and pulled my tee shirt down and pretended to be asleep.  I heard them get up and really start, as they walked away from their trysting place, at finding me so close to them – right under their feet.

“Fuck!”

“Is he dead?”

“No, he’s breathing.”

I feigned sleep.

Whether they saw wet splashes seeping through my tee shirt or upon the grass I don’t know.  What I did see, when I opened my eyes to slits just as they set off away from me, was a view right up the girl’s dress, the sun easily penetrating the thin material and illuminating all.  No knickers, just a hairy (blond) puffy sex complete with the creamy stuff.  I was probably lucky I didn’t get that dripped on me!   Well, actually, there was enough already of the stuff in my jeans and wet under my tee shirt, so another drop or two wouldn’t have made much difference!  What are we now, forty or more years on and still that memory of the sight up herdress makes me hard.