I checked my watch again -- nearly 10:15, you are late. I had been worried you wouldn't show and now it looked like I had been right to doubt it. I decided to give you another 5 minutes before heading home. I was feeling gutted.
I switched on the engine to warm up the car one last time, ready to go. It was a mild night for February, but there was a definite chill in the air. It is a pity that 'dogging' is such a winter sport; it is too light in Scotland in summer for the various participants to risk it.
And it looked like G & DJ hadn't been prepared to risk it either. I thought back to how I had got chatting to the both of you after you revealed your love of public exposure, of flashing, on website I visited. When I raised the subject of dogging you told me that you thought it was a little, well......'seedy'. I told you of my own experiences and reminded you that seediness can have a certain appeal all of its own. Eventually you got excited about the idea of dogging -- 'performing' sexually in front of strangers in a secluded area. The result was that a rendezvous had been agreed.
So if you weren't going to turn up my only slim hope was that other 'performers' might.
'At least it isn't raining'. I thought, trying to cheer myself up, facing the prospect of a wasted evening.
Across the car park I could see a few other cars, one at least I recognised -- all belonging to regulars on this patch -- watchers all of them. This car park -- in Strathclyde Country Park, behind the amusement park -- had always been a happy hunting ground for me. It was why I had immediately thought of it as a venue for meeting with you both. From our email exchanges I knew you probably wouldn't be averse to having a larger audience than just me, and this place was popular. But it looked as if tonight was going to be a washout -- for everyone.
I was about to put the car into gear and drive off when I saw the lights of another car coming slowly into view. I felt my stomach tighten with that familiar excitement. The anticipation at this point is always intense. Was the car on some innocent visit? Unlikely at this time of night, at this location. Was it another watcher, adding to the ranks of those about to be disappointed? Maybe not.
But this time my excitement was more intense, because this car might contain G and DJ, finally arriving. As the vehicle swung into the car park I recognised the shape of car, it was the one I had been told to expect.
My heart rate jumped up several notches and I felt my stomach tighten with anticipation. I watched the car pull up in a remote corner of the car park, a few hundred yards from mine. The lights flashed to high-beam and then turned off. I smiled at that sign. I had explained to G that this was a recognized signal to the watchers that someone wanted to be observed!
As I got out of my car I shoved a small but powerful torch into my back pocket. Over the fence of the park, closed for the winter months, I saw the Ferris wheel, ghostly in the moonlight. Locking the car I headed across the car park, watching as two people got out of the newly arrived car and then re-enter it via the back doors -- leaving the inside light on. I could see other figures converging on this source of light from the far corners of the car park -- like horny moths, drawn to the flame.
'Looks promising,' I muttered under my breath as I tried to look like I was just innocently strolling. But I couldn't help wondering if, even at this late stage, whether you would back out.
That was part of the attraction, the addiction -- you could never be sure what you were going to get. I suppose dogging wouldn't exist if there weren't people who like to 'show-off' in front of others. (And G & DJ certainly fell into that category) But it doesn't mean that those people were necessarily ones that you might enjoy watching show-off -- if you know what I mean. In the past I'd seen some sights that nearly put me off dogging for good. For example, woman who probably described themselves as, 'BBW', without realising that 'B' wasn't automatically equal to 'B'. And another time when the couple in the car turned out to be two guys. Not what I was looking for, but other watchers liked it. 'Each to their own' I always say. I can hardly criticize the sexual kinks of others when I think about my own.
But it was the good ones that kept me coming back. Few and far between, but all the more memorable for that. Every time, at the start, you hoped it was going to be a scene to recall and treasure. This case is unusual. I already know, from swapped photos, that you are a good-looking couple. Or. more accurately, that DJ has a superb body. But if you get cold feet and just sit in the car, or chickened out and just drove off -- it wasn't going to live up to expectations.
Despite these questions in my mind I couldn't stop my rising sense of excitement. I had a good feeling about this.
Doggers are by their very nature, secretive - loners. But if you hung around the sites long enough you would get to know some of your fellow 'aficionados'. Not 'know' in the sense of asking them to join you for a pint, or round to your house to meet the wife and have dinner. Only 'know' in the sense of swapping mobile numbers and a first name -- never real, and never a last name. Just a network for swapping text messages, passing the word about where the action might be happening. In the moonlight I saw once such contact -- 'Bob'. (at least that was the name attached to his number on my mobile) approaching the car as well. When he noticed me he nodded, and I did the same back. I'd been bumping in to him for a few months and he was something of an expert on the scene. Hanging around one night, waiting, we had started chatting. It quickly became obvious that he was something of an expert on 'the scene'. His tips and (later) his texts, had often led me to some of my most enjoyable dogging experiences.
As we got closer to the car our pace slowed. On the other side of the car I could see another couple of guys drawing closer, no-one I recognized.
When I was a few feet away I got my first good look into the back seat of the car. I felt my heart quicken and my breath get a little more shallow and fast -- it was G & DJ!
Under the interior light of the car I could finally see you for real. I glanced at Bob just as he looked at me. He'd had a good look inside and I could tell he was as excited as me. 'This is going to be good' he muttered.
We both edged towards the car, I took out my torch and Bob did the same. Like Boy Scouts, doggers like to be prepared. I noticed that the back windows of the car were up. Knowing about G & DJ's rule on 'interaction' I'd explained to G that this was a sign to the watchers that touching wasn't permitted. With my hand shaking I turned the torch on the window.
In the light I saw what I had been hoping to see, DJ! I was a bit shocked to see how scared you looked, almost exactly like a deer in the headlights. Then I tried to put myself in your place and thought how scary this situation must be. I flicked the torch up to light my face -- and saw a flash of recognition. Then I saw a faint smile in my direction, followed by a visible relaxation. I shifted the torch a little to check out G. Obviously I'm always more interested in the female in the car -- but it helps if the guy is good looking. No problems tonight I can see. I also notice you whispering to your man, and then glancing back at me, outside the window. I assume you are telling him that I am there.
But he doesn't appear that interested -- and I can understand why. In the torchlight I can see you are wearing a very sheer black blouse and G is already stroking his hand across your breasts. I can see your nipples, hard as bullets, straining at the thin material. My cock starts to twitch as I watch and beside me I hear Bob's breathing getting deeper, our torches trained on your lovely breasts. G starts unbuttoning your blouse and I hold my breath as he does, waiting for them to be revealed in all their glory. When the last button is undone G slowly pulls open your top. I let my breath out in a long shuddering sigh. In an email I have been told you are 40 but these aren't the breasts of a 40 year old. These are tits that a 19 year old Page 3 girl would be proud of. Then Bob expresses my thoughts for me, although slightly more crudely than I might.