Voyeurism in a Par

I have always been a bit of a human observer. The human methods of interaction fascinated me. I can tell if people are friends, lovers or just vague acquaintances. Everyone reads body language, but mostly unconsciously. I read body language consciously and deliberately. I have been told by a shrink that deliberate reading of body language is rude and intrusive so I try very hard not to do it, but it is part of my make up and I am battling to get rid of it. Not easy though and it was this capability that triggered the incident I am about to narrate to you.

My reading of body language is I suppose a form of I have a tendency to voyeurism and blame it on an incident that happened during a Youth group picnic. I was a junior leader. I didn't enjoy the experience and considering calling it quits after the picnic. In fact if the truth be told, I had already decided. I wanted adventure, excitement and organising outings for youngsters did not come under either heading, in fact it stifled those ambitions. So, I was going to the picnic and then I was going to resign and get on with my life.

The Youth Group was run by a woman name Clea a a striking middle aged woman. Strong, organised and commanding she was assisted by a man called Greg, a twenty something man with a shy diffident manner and Sheila.

Near Christmas, Clea declared that a picnic was indicated and we should organise it. Clea announced that the picnic was to be held at a picnic spot outside of town on the edge of a river and families were to be invited. There was a swimming pool, a play ground and lots of tables for families to eat at. To me and many of youth group member it sounded like a terrible idea, but Clea's opinion carried the day and a date was set, the site was booked and relevant maps and instructions as to what to bring, what to do and definitely what not to do.

The group started assembling at the picnic spot at about 11. Despite my misgivings the place was really different. The river emerged from a steep sided, heavily wooded valley and actually fed into the pool on one side and out the other. There were shady walks up the valley and small rock pools with tadpoles and frogs and tiny fish that all somehow managed to evade capture by the youngest of our party.

The valley had a path that split just after entering the wooded area. One path followed the river, the other followed the edge of the valley. The two paths were pretty much screened from one another, except in one place where there was an opening in the bushes. From the top patch a bench facing the river was visible, for the rest of the walk the two paths were invisible to one another except for places where the bush thinned slightly.

It was a wonderful place for observing the people I knew only from youth group activities in a completely social setting and, as they relaxed so their more relaxed personas crept out to play and I sat and observed the interactions of the parents. What did intrigue me was the interaction between Clea and Greg. It started out, not much different from their normal interaction, friendly, cordial if not slightly distant. As they day progressed the energy between them started to shift, possibly fuelled by the glass or two of wine that Clea and Greg shared. The energy grew and grew until there was a muted but raw, hungry energy between them. They would part for a while and then drift back together again and ended up sitting on a bench in the shade, slightly closer than is normal between casual acquaintances, but not as close as intimate friends or for that matter lovers. Clea as some stage in the afternoon took to patting Greg on the shoulder and I noticed Greg chance a quick pat on Clea's knee. She immediately got up and did the rounds of the various groups then returned to the bench where Greg was still sitting. She looked at him and sat down a bit away from him and they didn't look at each other for a while.

The picnic slowly wound down, families leaving in dribs and drabs. I stayed to help tidy up. Well that was my excuse, my real reason was to watch what would happen between Greg and Clea. Nothing much at first, they said goodbye to people, they checked that nothing had been left behind, they generally wasted time, waiting I thought for the last people to leave and they were definitely watching me ambling around and making no sign of leaving. I decided to at least go through the motions. Said goodbye and thank you for the wonderful day, climbed onto my motorbike and headed out of the area and stopped about a kilometre down the road. I hid the bike in the bush and quietly returned to the picnic site.

Clea and Greg were nowhere to be seen, so I quietly and surreptitiously walked along the river bank. When I got to the split in the path I had seen earlier, I took the upper path, quietly walking up onto the edge of the valley and watching the breaks in the bush to see if I could see them. I had just about given up when I got to the opening that looked down on the bench and the river. And there they were on the bench sitting very close, shoulders touching. I squatted down and waited. They sat and talked for a while, I could hear faint murmurs of their voices. No details, just a murmur.

Then Clea turned and looked directly into Greg's eyes, grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. This catches him a bit by surprise. I am not sure why, but it does. He doesn't take too long to recover though, wrapping his arms around Clea, dragging her in closer. After a kiss or two he slides one hand from her back and grabs one of her breasts firmly. I hear a faint, "Aah" from Clea and I note her legs spreading as if inviting Greg's hand to wander down that way, but he is more interested in her breasts, which he manages to expose and soon has a nipple in his mouth. Clea is by this stage leaning back, mouth open holding Greg's head, pressing down to keep him firmly in contact with her breasts.

Clea's hand is rubbing Greg's leg. It is either a very bulky leg or there is a huge cock in his pants. From the amount attention it is getting, I would guess at a huge cock. I can't wait to see if the size of his cock when it is exposed. Will it be as huge as it seems while still in his pants? I wait and watch with interest.

Greg's hand, now being replaced by his mouth, slides slowly and enticingly down Clea's body, across her belly and, finding the spread legs, progresses with no opposition from Clea to her pussy. I can hear her gasping softly as his fingers caress her through her soft dress. Impatient with his slow progress, Clea pulls the hem of her dress upwards, entangling his hands for a moment but soon he has his hand firmly under her panties and from the motion of his hand I guess he is thrusting at least two fingers deep into her pussy. She slides her hips forward, spreading her legs and now I can see her unshaven pussy and Greg's fingers sliding in and out slick with pussy juice.

Suddenly Clea pushes Greg's head downwards and I hear the first coherent words since I had arrived.

"Eat me. Eat me now. Now!"

Greg moves like lightning onto his knees, head between Clea's wide spread thighs, his mouth working on her pussy, and fingers still thrusting in an out.

"Don't stop. Don't stop!" The mantra goes on and on. Her hands now firmly in Greg's hair, hips thrusting up and down rhythmically, then suddenly she arches her back, head thrown back she lets out a loud groan and collapses back on the seat. She has her hands on her pussy and is rubbing furious and shuddering as her orgasm rages.

Greg gets to his feet and opens his zip and hauls out an 8 inch cock, pulls Clea's head forwards and starts to feed the monster into her mouth. She grabs at his cock, stopping the inward motion, pushes him back and looks at the cock in her hands. With both hands on it there is still a bit sticking out. She slowly moves forward and takes the tip of it into her mouth, then slowly lets more and more down her throat. I can see her throat distending as it works its way down her throat. I am still amazed how she fitted that huge cock into her mouth and down her throat. Greg starts to pump away restrained only by Clea's firm control of his hips. I can see he is desperate to cum and is trying very hard to pump harder than Clea is allowing him. Finally, he grunts a couple of times and I can see his cock pulsing as it pumps cum down Clea's throat. There is more than Clea can handle and it starts to dribble out of her mouth, down her chin and onto her naked breasts.

Greg pulls his cock out of her mouth and it is still hard.

"You got a condom?" Clea asks as Greg gets to his knees between her thighs.

Greg shakes his head.

"Shit!"

"You on the pill?"

"No, I wasn't expecting this."

"I am going to fuck you no matter what. Get a morning after pill or a husband, but you are getting fucked bare backed."

Clea reaches out and grabs him by the cock.

"That thing is not going up my arse. Aside from its size, I don't have lube.'

She pauses, still stroking Greg's cock. "OK, but you let me ride you. That way I can fit this beauty into me with out destroying my cunt entirely. Lie on your back."

Greg lies on his back and to my great pleasure she straddles him facing me, so I can see her tits, her pussy and Greg's cock from my hiding place. Clea grabs his cock and positions it so that it starts to disappear, slowly ever so slowly into her. I can see she is taking a bit of pain from the size of his cock. Greg grabs her by the hips and pulls her down onto his hips. Clea gives a soft moan and stays down for a while then she starts to move up and down slowly. Obviously enjoying the stretch. She gets faster and faster and I can hear the slap of her backside on Greg's hips, then suddenly she collapses.

"Oh, fuck! I can't. Finish it. Finish it."

Greg rolls her over onto her back and ploughs his cock into her and I can hear her start to moan, softly, then louder until she is completely audible above the slapping of skin against skin.

Greg starts to grunt and Clea says loudly and clearly, "Don't pull out. Come in me." Which pushes Greg over the edge and I see his balls pulse as he pumps hot, fertile cum into her pussy.

They lie on the grass for a while, then Greg slowly pulls out, squeezing his cock to deposit the last of his cum into her. He gets to his feet and helps Clea up. She strokes his cock, and then pulls her panties up.

"If you have made me pregnant, Charlie Smith will be so pleased. He has been trying to pump a baby into me for ages. I will tell him it is all his doing, he will then be happy to marry me. He always said he wouldn't marry me unless I was pregnant and he has been trying for ages and sadly not succeeding."

Hand in hand they walk out of the clearing and I am left with a raging hard on and time on my hands, so I make myself comfortable against a tree and start to masturbate to the memory of Greg and Clea's animal couplings that I had so cheerfully watched. I am just getting into a nice rhythm when someone says, "Disgusting voyeur."

I leap to my feet, cock still firmly clenched in my hand to find Sheila standing with a camera in her hands. She takes a picture of me, smiles then slings the camera over her shoulder.

She saunters over to me and grabs my cock none to gently and starts to frig it, masturbating me. I am to perturbed by her presence to get much stimulation out of the action.

"You see," says Sheila conversationally still stroking my cock "this is my voyeurism spot. Why do you think that there is a nice clear view of the only bench in the whole of the upper valley? Coincidence? Nah. I have slowly made it so that it is not too obvious but still provides a good view of any action on the seat and I was really looking forward to seeing who was going to get laid today. I suspected that it might be Greg, but Clea? Phew, what a surprise! And Greg's cock? Now that was truly something to behold. I thought he was going to strangle her with it."

The recital of the action I had seen below by Sheila and her gentle ministrations encouraged my cock to become more interested in orgasms and such things. A change that Sheila did not fail to notice.

She goes on her knees and kisses the tip of my cock gently.

"Got over the nasty surprise have you?" addressing my cock like an old friend. She sits back a bit. "Mmm, more like my size. I don't think I could have handled Greg's cock and he was really getting quite pushy about having sex with me."

Next thing I know she has swallowed my cock entirely and starts giving me a really good blow job. Just as I am about to blow my load down her throat, she pulls back and squeezes my cock hard and that puts a stop to the process immediately.

"And no, you are not going to cum in my mouth. Pussy or nothing. And definitely not where there are peeping toms around. In my bed, at home. In case you don't know, this park is right next to my parents house. I arranged the picnic spot for us hoping for a good bit of voyeurism and maybe a bit of a fuck myself. So, now, go fetch your motor bike from the bushes where you hid it, and come up to my parents house. By that time they will know you going to arrive. See, I didn't say you were going to come. That might cause all sorts of confusion in peoples heads. So you will arrive and join us for dinner. You will have a couple of glasses of wine and Mummy darling will persuade you to stay the night. After lights out I will join you in your bedroom and we can finish off what I started here. Mummy and Daddy will be so pleased that I have found a good man that they wont worry too much if we make a bit of noise. Me especially. I tend to be very, uhm shall we say vocal."

She steps back to walk away, but I grab her round the waist, pull her against me, stick my tongue down her throat and my hand up between her legs. She squirms against my hand for a few seconds, then pulls away.

"Now go and do what I told you to do and you can do all the bad things you have been thinking of doing to me after dinner tonight." and she turns and disappears up the path leaving me with a raging hard on. I am sorely tempted to go after her and take her by force, but that doesn't sit well with my ethics. No, don't raise your eyebrows, I do have ethics. A bit difficult to explain to people who know about my voyeuristic activities but I do have limits and taking a woman by force is well beyond my limits. Instead I masturbate quickly and efficiently then and there, relieving the tension Sheila had left me with.

Tension having been relieved I fetch my bike and ride sedately up to the house next to the park to be greeted like a long lost relative by the entire family.

Mummy is a startlingly beautiful woman who oozes sexuality and causes my recently discharged cock to stir. Daddy is a tall elegant man with an unsettling stare and I am glad when Sheila takes me for a tour of the garden.

"You keep your filthy thoughts for me. Mummy is not for you. No, don't deny it. I could see you wondering how you could get your hands on her. Forget it. You are here for my pleasure, not hers."

I manage to get quick, shall we call it a kiss and cuddle? As we went around a corner that was fairly obscured by bushes, Sheila turns to me, puts her arms around my neck and kisses me. I try to slide my hand up her skirt, find her pussy wet and willing but she giggles and skips away. We rejoin the family on the patio for pre-dinner drinks where we talk about everything but what seems to be on everyone's mind. Sex. I am trying not to notice Mummy, but she is very difficult not to notice and when she is sitting opposite me with her legs slightly open so that I can see that she isn't wearing panties, but has a fine bush of hair on her pussy, unlike Sheila who from the feels of it is clean shaven. Point is, I have seen more of Mummy's working bits than I have of Sheila's.

Soon it's bed time. Sheila shows me to my bedroom, gives me a chaste kiss and disappears leaving me to wonder about the rest of the evening and her promise of sex. I wait but eventually I give up and climb into bed wondering about masturbating before going to sleep; though still hoping that Sheila will arrive. The wine I have consumed during the evening wins out and I drift off to sleep without masturbating.

I am slowly roused from my sleep by a movement in the bed, a finger on my lips and then some lips on my cock. Of course I rise to the occasion, Sheila having fired my lust earlier on in the evening. I let the attentions to my cock continue for a while and then push her onto her back, first tasting her lips, then her nipples and finally her pussy which is wet, slightly sugary and very musky. I slide a finger inside her, then two fingers. I curl my fingers around and find the slight bump that must be her g-spot. I work slowly gently on her g-spot and she starts to moan softly. I find her clit lips and suck it in, gently massaging it with my tongue. Her moans start becoming more urgent, louder and very guttural. Not the sort of sound that I would have expected from a young woman, but hey, who am I to judge the sound of a woman's passionate moans especially when her thighs are clenched tightly over my ears. Soon, I have her hands scrabbling at the back of my head and her hips thrashing up and down against my face. Suddenly she shudders and stops moving I untangle myself and she rolls onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees presenting me with a wet, hot and fuckable pussy which I immediately stick my aching cock into. I feel her fingers rubbing her clit and touching my balls as I drive into her, the slapping of my hips against her arse and the sound of our last reverberating around the room. I don't last long and I pump hot cum into her and we collapse on the bed.

Once again she puts her finger to my lips, kisses me and leaves me alone in the darkness. I start to drift off to sleep, but something bothers me and I drift in dreamy state running through the experience again, the touch, the smell, the sound. Then something Sheila said intrudes, "I tend to be very, uhm shall we say vocal." She had not been vocal at all. Almost silent. I pondered that for a while, the finger on the lips also bothering me. Urging me to be silent. Had she been joking, had she had second thoughts about the sound of us fucking? It wasn't clear to me I was still drifting but the puzzle kept me from falling asleep. Then a tactile memory intruded. Sheila has long hair and I grabbed for it as I was doggying her on the bed. I only found shortish hair. "Mummy has shortish hair" murmurs my subconscious now fully engaged. Yes, so she does, but she also has a fine bush of pubic hair and there was none of that on the pussy I ate just recently. I rolled the problem round and round in my head for a while longer remembering the slightly deeper voice I remembered when I was pounding into her. That added weight to the idea that Mummy had visited rather than Sheila, but the clean shaven pussy was the real trump card. I fell asleep and slept through until dawn was lighting the windows as the light started rousing me, my door opened and Sheila in a dressing gown slipped into bed next to me.

"Did you miss me?"

The scent was different, the movements lighter, this was not the woman who visited me last night.

"Yes, of course I did. I was so disappointed when you didn't come and fetch me." Only a partial lie as someone had visited me and now I was pretty sure it wasn't Sheila. We kissed for a while then I started to explore her body. Lighter, slimmer, different from last night. Breasts with prominent nipples were the same and the gentle moan that I raised from her as I suckled there for a while until she pushed my head down;

"Eat me!" she murmurs echoing Clea's demand of Greg yesterday. I taste her pussy. Not sweet like last night, just as wet, less musky but that could be that she isn't as aroused as last night. I find her g-spot and soon she locks her thighs around my ears, hands in my hair, same grinding action of the hips but most women when you find their g-spot get into that grind action. Well OK, the women I have managed whose g-spot I have manager to find did the grind my face into their pussies. The major difference was that she was vocal. I could hear her grunting, squealing and moaning quite clearly. Plus as a rhythmic "Fuck! Fuck!" mantra which didn't happen last night. As she came, I turned her over and doggy styled her again. This time her hair was easily grabbed and man was she vocal. A stream of obscenities, demands and pleas uttered in a very clear, soprano voice accompanied my grunting and the slapping of my hips against her backside.