I know it's a terribly unlawful and immoral thing to do. I wholeheartedly agree that no woman should be subjected to it. The videos and images I have seen online disgust me, but then the thought of being on the receiving end of such a violation of civil and human rights triggers my sexual arousal.
I begin to imagine its me in those images and short video clips. It's me when I'm out wearing short skirts and dresses, and short, low-cut dresses and tops. I imagine I'm the unaware victim whose been up-skirted and down-bloused by a perverted passer-by, before my 'attacker' takes his criminality further and posts me online. Posts my cleavage and pantie shots online without me ever knowing.
My fantasy grows darker as I accidentally stumble across my own images and video. I'm curiously looking at candid porn when I see myself on the screen. Who was my voyeur? I wonder, as I see myself in my local swimming pool mixed sex changing rooms.
I recognise the back of myself in my navy-blue one-piece swimming costume, removing my goggles as I walk to my locker. I can see my soaking wet brown hair and my drenched pony tail is swinging as I walk carefully not to slip on the tiled floor. Whoever is filming me is doing so from a cubicle with its door slightly open.
More of my arse is revealed as I bend over and the swimming costume stretches tighter. I've taken the key from my wrist and I'm now opening my locker. My arse moves and the camera zooms in as I pull out my towel and bag.
I turn around and suddenly the camera jumps to the floor. A man is heard gasping in fear and excitement that he almost got caught. He then chuckles and I see his bare feet on a towel on the floor. Is he somebody that swims in one of the lanes at the same time as me? Or is he getting ready for the next swimming slot?
I swim early. The 6am-7am time slot. None of the men are particularly young when I swim. I'm twenty-two years old. The next youngest woman is probably thirty. I'd guess the youngest guy is forty, with the rest of them being fit swimmers in their fifties.
The camera moves slowly up the cubicle wall. It's shaking to the sound of hoarse breathing. It then films over the top into the next cubicle. I see myself again. I'm watching a birds-eye view of myself taking my shampoo and conditioner out of my bag. I can see my deep cleavage jouncing softly as I dig my hands in and out of my bag.
I then remove my hair bobble and pull my jeans, t-shirt, jumper and fresh underwear out of my bag, placing them on the bench beside me. I feel terribly violated and excited, wondering how much of my privacy has been captured by the voyeur without my knowledge.
I'm next recorded zipping up my bag and picking up my towel, shampoo and conditioner. Everyone leaves their belongings unattended in the cubicles. It's never been an issue... until now I realise.
The camera is quickly pulled away as I'm unlocking and leaving the cubicle to go for a shower. After a few moments, the voyeur leaves his cubicle and heads towards the showers. My heart starts racing as I watch him move quickly. I can see he his hiding his phone in a towel because everything has gone blank.
I can hear shower water running as the voyeur steps into another shower cubicle and locks the door. The camera is now recording the floor again. The voyeur hangs up his towel and I can see water splashing from the shower next door. The camera moves down this particular cubicle wall.
I'm suddenly looking at my feet and calves when the camera goes under the shower cubicle. My clit reacts to the scene and I slip a hand up my skirt and into my knickers. I'm soaking wet from what I've watched so far.
Massaging my pussy lips as I watch myself being violated online, I pull up my t-shirt to expose my braless tits. I always watch porn or read Literotica in just a short loungewear skirt and t-shirt. No need for underwear. It's just more to remove. Caressing my breasts as I rub my wetness, I can't take my eyes off the screen.