The Accidental Voyeur

A more recent recollection. Still years ago, but not so far back as the previous experiences. Different opportunities in the modern world. Not all 'in the flesh'.

I never saw Yvonne with her clothes off -- in the flesh. But I certainly knew what her naked body looked like, intimately; knew what she looked like in the throes of sexual abandon; and, further, had seen her with her boyfriend's prick in her sex, mouth, bottom and pouring his enthusiasm all over her body. Many times. I had access to her photographs and videos. Did I have! Did I have!

And none of it was deliberate on my part. Yvonne's naked body just fell into my (naked) lap, so to speak. An accident, not by my design.

It was, of course, her silly fault. Clear to me in the office just what a sexy girl she was and not just in looks, obvious she was charged up and very into sexual activity. Not that she did anything in the office; didn't chat up the men (much) but, just by overheard snippets of conversation with the other girls, I knew. And seeing her with her boyfriend when he came to collect her from the office, or when he was there at office parties and events, made her sexual enthusiasm very clear to me. I watched his hands. I watched her hands. Let me give an example.

I once watched the two of them waiting for the lift. Not very obviously watching, just coming out of a corridor and pausing and observing quietly. I saw his hand creeping over her jean clad bottom, over that so delightfully rounded blue denim. Something I would, of course, have very much liked to do. All made the better when her hand came over his jeans too -- onto his bottom, not that bulge at front -- and squeezed. It was something about the way her fingertips were angled into the crack of his bottom that both got to me and spoke volumes. It was more than just an affectionate caress. It was very much sexual. I imagined both naked, her bottom all smooth and perfectly rounded, his hand clasped to a cheek and squeezing; and his bottom there too, maybe hairy, clearly strongly muscled, and with her fingertips curling into his dark crack, perhaps even brushing his rubbery hole. Might a finger slip in?

I was immediately hard and in a state of considerable excitement as the doors of the lift opened for them. Impulsively, I hurried forward and despite not wishing to travel down to the ground floor, found myself through the closing doors and into the lift carriage with them. There were just the three of us in the lift. I glanced down. They had not turned to see who it was who had joined them. Hands still on each other's bottoms. Yvonne's finger was stroking the seam, the seam down the centre of the young man's jeans. Might, when they got home, it really go in? Was he hard in his jeans? I could not see -- it was not one of those highly mirrored lifts. Were there two erections in the lift -- his and mine? Easy for my mind to jump to the thought of us three all naked in the lift and, of course, with Yvonne -- in my dreams -- more than happy to be pawed by two men, indeed taking advantage of the situation. As I say -- in my dreams.

But it was nothing like that. Yet, my cock, upright in my trousers, was there right behind her bottom. I was a good foot from her, not unnecessarily close. A pity that his hand was there, almost protecting it. Without it, sort of defending her, what if at the next floor or two there was a sudden press inwards of people wishing to hurry home? Me being pressed hard from behind up against her. My hardness suddenly in her, admittedly, jean covered crack.

Thoughts broken by Yvonne noticing it was me and saying a few pleasantries about the evening. Having entered the lift, I had to leave with them and even walk out of the building as if I had a reason for getting into the lift in the first place. I went the opposite way to them and turned back as soon as they were out of sight and returned to the building and lift. Unusual being hard in the street and, indeed, walking through the doors past reception with an upright and firm cock -- not that Jenny and Carol at the front desk were not worth raising one's cock to!

I have digressed. Seriously digressed. Yvonne's mistake was to spell out in my earshot both the website and password for what I heard her telling Chloe Butler was her private photo store and that Chloe might have a bit of a giggle seeing what she and her boyfriend got up to. "See if you think he's as big as I say!"

Clearly not simply holiday snaps or photos of Yvonne's cat being 'cute.' A rather different 'pussy' being anything but 'cute,' I sort of suspected. Useful having a good memory and a biro and pad of paper to hand. WWW. etc and the password, Cl1tC0ck69*. Naughty Yvonne, though a strong password. I hoped the site would not only open for me that evening but be 'strong' as well. I was not disappointed.

The site indeed opened and there was Yvonne in the flesh, in colour, even moving, as there were more than a few videos. Some quite long. I can tell you that the Accidental Voyeur, did not just get his cock out, he stripped completely and settled down for a long and, ultimately ('cos there was a lot of edging), productive session. No longer did I need to imagine. I saw everything about Yvonne -- really as if I'd been a fly on the wall or, let's be even more accurate, an ant crawling up her thigh. And the videos had sound. What phrases came out of that mouth. I hadn't heard her say 'fuck me' as an expression of surprise in the office but I heard it on a video or two and it was not meant as an expression of surprise at all but, very much, a request or demand.

And was Yvonne right about her boyfriend's cock being big? Certainly! Put mine to shame and I really don't know how he got it all in her. Balls deep, what's more -- I saw that in detail with his rather intimate handheld video camera work. He certainly showed that more than once -- the long slow slide in!

Chloe looked a bit stunned the next day. Clearly, she had looked at Yvonne's site just as I had! I rather hoped there would be a return of the favour -- another web site I could see but this time of Chloe. Seemingly not. I even heard Chloe say something like 'I wouldn't dream of letting anyone else...' Perhaps Yvonne was a closet exhibitionist, but I never plucked up courage to ask if I could watch in person; if she would like an audience -- an appreciative audience. I'd sit in a corner, be quiet and just watch (and wank); or, better still, maybe she would like a participant? Foolish really. She could hardly complain if I had asked. It was her silly fault, after all that I'd heard the website and password; she could hardly blame me for looking; indeed, at worst, all she could have said was 'no.' Oh well.