Author's note: The following is a work of fiction that contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts and is intended for adults only. All people, places, and events are a product of my imagination and any characters described as engaging in sexual acts are over the age of eighteen. Thank you for reading. All feedback is greatly appreciated.
Thanks for sticking around for the next instalment. Heads-up, this episode is heavy on voyeurism and there is a depiction of non-consensual sex, along with more traditional good stuff.
Previously on Langley Circle... With the idea of "the circle" being conceived during the discussion at the Parker's home, all those involved were charged with giving the concept some thought over the coming week. Later that day, Josh successfully challenged Dean in a truly unique duel for "control" of Trudy, and he and Nicky celebrated his victory with a threesome that saw everyone very satisfied.
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Season Two, Episode Three
The watcher lightly gripped the high-end tablet as tired eyes blinked away the remnants of sleep. A video displaying a deserted street streamed into a feed window that occupied two thirds of the screen. A drone was relaying the images, along with a shed load of meta data as it flew a pre-programmed route towards the next set of coordinates. The previous stops had yielded little of interest; seventeen and twenty-three had shown only mundane activity, whilst fifty-seven, which more often than not was good for at least a flash, had been completely dark.
The birds-eye view of the suburban street lit only by the breaking dawn zipped past on the screen, the glassy eyes of the watcher reflecting the bright pictures back into the darkened bedroom. Battery life seventeen minutes; good enough. Altitude 40 metres, sufficient to be nigh on silent from the ground. Wind six kph from the south-west, well within the operational parameters of the auto-stability system. The watcher absorbed this and other technical data flowing around the edges of the feed window, an action well-practised and as familiar to him as breathing.
The view slowed as the drone decreased speed and altitude, finally stabilizing as it settled into a hover. The feed flicked over from the top-down camera to the high definition one mounted in the nose of the unit. Switching to manual, fingers delicately adjusted the controls to orientate the view on the upstairs window of a house across the street. The Curtains were open; that was a good start.
With the drone switched back to auto hover, allowing it to compensate for all but the most severe environmental changes, the watcher moved to the camera controls, zooming in closer. The room looked empty, the bed neatly made. The watcher sneered; another dead stop.
But wait, what's this? Fingers hesitated above the touch screen of the tablet as a woman bustled in through the open door. Perhaps not a wasted trip after all. The woman wore a smart black knee-length skirt, heels and, most interestingly to the watcher, only a bra.
"Well good morning Mrs. Beaton," the watcher whispered.
Creamy white flesh wobbled and bulged enticingly over the low cut cups of Mrs. Beaton's pale pink bra as she hurried across the room, a white blouse gripped in her hand. The watcher's sneer turned to a lecherous grin when a generous cleavage was revealed as the woman bent over the edge of the bed and began fussing with the blouse.
"Hmm, Julie, what are you doing?"
Julie Beaton seemed to be smoothing the garment out and inspecting one particular spot, a tear, or a stain perhaps? Did it matter? Not really, as long as she kept bending over.
The slender woman, probably in her early forties, was in three-quarter profile to the powerful camera lens, affording excellent views of both her voluptuous chest and bubble butt. Both ample features had garnered lustful appreciation from the watcher in the past, and it looked like today's foray might add another juicy snippet to the collection. Skilful Fingers flicked across the screen and the image zoomed in, Mrs. Beaton's well-rounded arse swaying hypnotically in the view. The watcher leered and reached a hand beneath the duvet, wriggling it inside the front of his boxers. A low growl escaped his lips as fingers curled around the warm hard flesh of his erection. Eyes remained glued on the screen as one hand began to stroke slowly up and down, while the other continued to work the controls of the drone's camera, gliding it along the woman's body, zeroing in on her breasts.
A grunt and the hand sped up. Nice big, fat tits, that's the way he liked them. The large breasts on the screen wobbled and jiggled as the woman continued to fuss over the blouse. How he'd love to touch those massive mounds, to grab them, squeeze them, pinch the nipples, slap them. Another grunt. Yeah he'd slap them as he pushed his dick between them and used her cleavage like a pussy. She'd love it! Or not, who cared, he didn't. In truth if she didn't that might actually be better. Protesting meekly and struggling as he fucked her tits and tanned red marks onto her skin.
A man's hand suddenly slid into view on the feed, squeezing one breast. The watcher paused his stroking and blinked in confusion. He zoomed back out and saw that the hand belonged to Mrs. Beaton's husband, who was leaning over her, speaking unheard words into her ear as he pawed at her chest.
Mrs. Beaton was craning her neck back and responding with what looked like a mixture of surprise and frustration at her portly husband, who grinned as he ground his pyjama-clad groin against her behind. She wasn't grinning; she was scowling as she spoke. The watcher couldn't hear the words, but he could take a guess as to the general intent they carried. The woman shifted and tried to straighten up, but her husband held her in place and began kissing her back.
