Here's a personal experience. One day I visited the office of someone I'd never met before. We hit it off well, ogling topless 'birds' suntanning on a nearby roof.
This tongue-in-cheek tale combines birdwatching, binoculars and bonding.
Watching Great Tits
I've come up four floors in the elevator and made my way along a corridor leading to the back of the office building. I count off the numbers on the door until I come to 401, right at the end of the hallway.
The door is open, so I take a look inside. A fellow about my age sits at a big desk with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He's literally buried in paper. I call to him.
"Mike Hanlon? Hi, Jock Martin, JM Digital."
"Come right in. I've been expecting you. Have a seat. You can probably already see that I need some help here."
I drop into the comfortable chair facing his messy desk, completely cluttered with several stacks of paper in no apparent order. This guy needs my help in a big way! That's what I'm here to talk about, getting all this onto digital files.
Mike faces me across the desk, his back to the big corner windows behind him. Though the rest of the office is just as disorganized as his desk, I recognize that this must be a coveted space in the building. It offers a wide view of the city around us.
"Great office you have here, Mike. Sunny and bright."
Definitely! I wouldn't trade it with anyone!" he grins with enthusiasm.
That's when I notice binoculars on the side of the desk, easily within his reach. I point to them.
"Birdwatcher? I do some of it myself."
He smiles. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Seen any Flickers or Sapsuckers from here? It's the season for them."
"I might have. I'm always watching." Mike says evasively.
Then half turning to the big window behind him, he sweeps his arm across it and adds, "Never know what I'm going to see from up here. Nothing would surprise me, so I keep my eyes and ears open."
I don't quite know what to make of that remark. So I flip open my case, ready to launch into the wonders of digitalizing. Mike seems ready to focus as I start my sales pitch.
"We can get your whole operation better organized by going digital. Everything will be stored in the cloud instead of here in the office. You're going to find that you have less paper and more...."
Suddenly, we both hear some laughter from outside, not too far away. It sounds like happy female voices. Mike immediately stops looking at me and turns to the window, while grabbing for the binoculars.
It occurs to me that he isn't watching for Flickers or Sapsuckers. I might as well not even be in the office. Mike's attention is riveted to whatever is happening outside. Then he turns to me and grins again.
"Do you like college babes?" he asks impishly. "Because if you do, you're in for a treat today."
I'm confused. "Meaning?"
"The birds are out to enjoy the sun. Three of them are on the roof just there. Very likely they're in bikinis under their clothes. Interested?"
"You bet!" And I quickly get up and move to the window, asking, "Will they see us? They're very close."
"Not if you stay back a metre or so."
The meeting is forgotten as we peer across an open area and down one level. Three early-twenties girls are stripping off their street clothes, getting ready to tan. I already see a bright yellow polkadot top on a slim little brunette.
"We'll watch for a while," Mike states. "I hope you have enough time. If not, I can schedule you to come back another day."
Clearly, he's so eager to take in the view that our meeting has become an afterthought.
"Oh. Do you think they'll be out again tomorrow? If so, I can be here," I joke.
Now Mike knows I'm as willing as he is to enjoy some birdwatching. I'm already thinking that we might see some Great Tits, rather common black and yellow birds. Who knows, if a male Woodcock flies in, we could even witness a Swallow. I know my birds.
As shirts are unbuttoned and tight jeans tugged off, the birds begin to show their plumage. The brunette's yellow number contrasts with the tall blonde in a black two-piece. The third one, with the cute auburn hair, wears skimpy neon green, with lots of strings to hold things in place.
I bring my chair over because we might be here for a while.
"Take your pick, Jock. Who do you like?" Mike asks me.
"That's a tough question. I'd probably need a closer look," I say, looking at the binoculars still in his hand.
"Sure. Feast your eyes. I've seen these three before, so I already have a favourite. Check them out and we can compare."
Welcome to the "all-you-men-are-just-pigs" brotherhood. I've never even met this guy before, and here we are sharing his binoculars to compare our choices in half-dressed young women. Mike and I are obviously on the same red-blooded team.
Over on the dormitory roof, the three of them move in what seems like a practiced ritual. First, they throw their clothes into a pile, then unfurl their big towels beside one another.
Next, they sit on the towels before breaking out tubes and bottles of sun protection from the bags they've brought. Each one applies it to her front, seeming to take special care across the upper chest and inner thighs. Delicate skin, I guess.
When that's completed, they turn and offer their backs to one another for further goop where they couldn't reach. I notice that they even work it into the skin under the strings that hold the little bikini triangles in place.
Finally, the girls stretch out on their stomachs facing us and reach behind to unfasten their tops.
I've been watching this display very closely, using the binoculars as colourfully painted fingertips disappear beneath the edges of bikinis. All three girls look great to me!
Then Mike asks a tough question.
"OK, Jock, what's your choice?"
"Well... it depends."
"On what?"
"To look at... or to lay?" I ask him boldly.
Mike laughs. "A man after my own heart! Which one would you most want to screw, of course?"
He hardly knows me, but my interest in watching them matches his. Now I've taken it to the next level by mentioning sex. So, he realizes we can get right to the base instinct that drives the primitive animal hidden deep inside both of us. We're going to imagine fucking these pretty birds.
"That's easy. The auburn hair in neon green. She's my choice. I'd give it to her!"
"And why's that?"
"Just look at her. She's got a great rack and the tiniest bikini, so I think she'd be the hot one. What's your choice?"
"I'd go with the blonde. That long hair spread out when she's flat on her back, and those legs wrapped around me from underneath. Yeah, I'd like to give it to her!"
We watch some more, and I take a closer look at Blondie. I decide that she would be a great lay too. Meanwhile, Mike has the binoculars now and he alerts me.
"Check how Auburn's tits are all squished out beneath her. Hey, look now, she's up on her elbows, and they're hanging right out. What beauties!"
"Hey, pass the binocs, man. My turn."
Soon I'm agreeing with him. "I see what you mean, Mike. And those nipples are so stiff. I want my mouth on them!"
This good-natured bantering goes on for some time before all three of the girls are up on their elbows, each one unknowingly flashing us a great deal of private skin.
Then Mike has some great news for me.
"Soon they're going to roll over to toast on the other side. That's when the real show begins. Do you have time to stay?"
"Yeah, if you do. I'll stay until they go back inside!" I laugh.
"So, in that case, let's order in some lunch. It's almost noon and we'll be another hour, at least."
Mike phones for a fast food delivery up to his office and then we go right back to our observation posts to watch the birds. It's going to be like a sports event, spectating while stuffing our mouths with food.
Then a few minutes later, it gets a whole lot better. The little brunette in the itsy bitsy yellow polkadot number struggles to her feet, pressing her unsecured top against her chest. She steps across her towel, then sits down facing us before reaching into her bag to grab a tube. Then she lays back.
"Watch this, Jock!" Mike almost whispers, handing me the field glasses.
"Omigawd!" I inhale.
Polkadots has pulled away her top, revealing a set of beautiful tits! She places the tube against one, then the other, squeezing a little white length of cream onto each. Then her fingers work the goo into the skin! All around each one. Even underneath, where they seldom see the sun.
She rubs all around her smooth, rounded mounds, and then goes to the nipples. The little brunette works hard at them, circling each areola, and rolling the nubs between her pink fingertips, drawing them into wicked peaks.
"Fuuuck," is all I can manage. I feel my cock rising to take a look too.
"My turn. Hand over the glasses," Mike orders because Blondie looks like she's starting the same exquisite procedure.
They're close enough that I can still see everything usually hidden to the world. Her skin isn't as tanned as Polkadots', and her nipples are a nice pink instead of brown.
But Blondie's tits are lovely, and I see the whole show because she is sitting up to apply the cream. They hang like ripe fruit waiting to be picked. Young and firm and fresh and....
"Look, it's Auburn now," Mike interrupts my reverie, and I wonder who'll have the glasses for this one.
Just then there's a knock at the now-closed office door and someone calls out, "Food order for Mike Hanlon."
Mike passes me the binoculars and hustles over to pick up our lunch. He comes back right away, wondering what went down in those few minutes at the door. He soon finds out.
