Memorable For The Wrong Reasons

A tale of voyeurism, masturbation, fetishes, female domination, orgasm denial, and small penis humiliation.

Copyright 2015 Christopher D.B.

Something woke me in the night. A noise perhaps. I lay still, looking up at the bottom of the empty bunk above me, and then I heard something. A gasping sound, coming from the bedroom next door.

It was a rental chalet in the Smoky Mountains. My tiny room with its bunk beds shared a bathroom with the bedroom where Cheryl and Tim were staying. Curious, I quietly got out of my bunk and took a few steps to the bathroom door, which was slightly open.

I was able to push it open without a sound, and see that the door to their room was also ajar. The bathroom had no window and was perfectly dark, so I slipped inside and took a cautious gaze into the adjoining bedroom.

We were high on the side of a mountain with no need to close the blinds, so the bright full moon bathed their room in a soft glow. Both of them were naked. Tim was laying on the king sized bed, a four poster made of heavy timbers, while Cheryl sat on top of him, gently rocking back and forth on his cock.

One of her hands was planted on his broad chest while she traced her fingertips of the other lightly across his lips. He gently kissed and nibbled her fingers, letting out another stifled gasp as Cheryl briefly picked up the pace, but then settled back into her slow teasing rocking motion.

I was not afraid of being seen as they were too involved with each other, and the cool tile bathroom floor was solid under foot with no risk of making a tattletale squeak. My penis was erect within seconds, and I began to stroke it slowly and teasingly, as if Cheryl were riding me instead of Tim.

She was my ex-girlfriend. While she had gotten on top sometimes when we had sex, she never seemed to enjoy it. Made it out to be too much work. Usually after a few minutes she would claim she was tired, lie down, and have me finish the job. Tonight though, she seemed enthusiastic in the way she gently rode Tim's penis, periodically bouncing a few long strokes just to frustrate him.

I thought I heard him call her a teasing minx and he firmly rolled her off of him, and then got up on his knees to enter her. The size of his cock was amazing. Tim and I had been good friends for years and there had been times, such as a gym locker room, where I had gotten a quick look at his penis. I think all guys are curious to how they measure up against their peers, and I knew Tim had me beat, but tonight, for the first time I saw his cock fully erect. It had to be at least ten inches long, glistening with Cheryl's sweet pussy juices in moonlight.

She lay back on the bed, her long blonde hair spilling over the pillows. The nipples on her small firm breasts were swollen from arousal, and she spread her legs widely. He gently slid all the way in.

He fucked her with long purposeful strokes, and I could hear them both breathing heavily. I sensed that he would have fucked her harder, gotten the bed springs creaking and her moaning loudly, had they not thought I was sleeping in the next room.

I was now stroking my cock, an erection might have been half the length of his, and trying to match his rhythm. I could feel myself on the verge of cumming but I wanted to hold back. Tim might have me beat in penis size but I wanted to at least match him in staying power.

It was agonizing, and my knees started trembling as I jerked off in the dark bathroom, watching them through the partially open doorway. Tim, now fucking Cheryl as hard as he dared, the bed springs gave an occasional squeak. Then he let out several muted grunts and began to slow his pace.

He had cum, and I let myself have a long awaited release, suddenly realizing I was in trouble. I quickly swooped my free hand in and cupped it over the head of my penis to catch the next burst of cum, but the initial blast had flown who knows where in the dark bathroom.

In a panicked glance I saw Cheryl getting out of bed. When we were together she had always run to the bathroom after sex and it was likely a habit she couldn't break. I slipped back into my room and pulled my bathroom door closed as quietly as I could, cum slick on both of my hands.

As I heard her soft footsteps approaching the bathroom I had some hope. If she didn't turn on the light, she might not notice anything was out of place. I could wait until they fell asleep, which wouldn't be long after a hot fuck like that, and slip into the bathroom to clean up my mess.

"Ewww!" I heard her squeal echo in the tiled bathroom. I saw the light come on through the gap under the door. "Chris! You fucking pervert!" she shouted at the closed door, and I head the privacy lock click on the other side.

Then I heard Tim enter the bathroom and ask her what was wrong. It seems she had stepped in my cum. I was busted.

"Dude! What the fuck?" I heard him yell. Then I heard him stomp back into their bedroom. My first thought was that he was going to kick my ass, and I suppose I couldn't blame him.

I quickly picked the T-shirt I had worn yesterday up off the floor and wiped my hands and penis with it. Then I pulled on a pair of shorts and gym shoes. Tim might come in through the adjoining bathroom, or the main bedroom door that led out to a loft space that overlooked the living room. If he was going to bust in and try to kick my ass, I was at least going be clothed and ready to fight.

We had fought a few times in the past as friends sometimes do. Usually just wrestling but a few punches had been thrown. Those had been brief skirmishes, and I'd say they'd always ended in a draw. However, there was no telling if he'd been holding back those times on account of our friendship.

He was a bit taller and heavier than I. Over the last few years since we had graduated from college he had been hitting the gym on a regular basis and was certainly in better form than I. My adrenaline was flowing and though I was not looking forward to a fight, if it came down to that I knew I couldn't hold back.

However, after Tim and Cheryl quietly argued for a while in the adjoining bedroom, I heard them both use the toilet, and then the bathroom light went off. All was quiet and it seemed they had gone to bed.

Just to play it safe, I locked the bedroom door and lay down on top of the covers without getting undressed. I couldn't fall asleep for several hours, and even then it was a restless sleep with a lot of tossing and turning.

I woke to hear the sound of someone showering in the adjoining bathroom. Then there was some conversation between the couple that I couldn't make out. Soon afterwards I heard them go down the stairs and out the front door. I heard Tim's SUV start, and it sounded as if they drove off.

Moments later I stepped out of my bedroom onto the narrow loft. Standing at the railing and looking out over the living room below, the large comfortable sofas in front of the massive stone fireplace and big screen TV, I could see the parking area outside through a window. My car was there of course but Tim's SUV was gone.

I glanced in through the open door of their bedroom at the top of the stairs. The bed unmade, some of Tim's clothes on the floor. It looked like any other morning in there. Walking down the large open stairway to the living room, I went to the kitchen and started looking around for a pad of paper and pen.

My plan was to write a brief note of apology, then pack up my stuff and drive home. I had heard Cheryl saying all week that she wanted to have a pancake breakfast at some place that she used to go to when she was a kid. That was probably where they were headed now and it would be perhaps two hours before they returned.

There was another bedroom off the living room and I peeked in the doorway. The place was trashed. Man, this had been one messed up vacation. Renee and John had stayed in that room.

Renee was one of Cheryl's friends. She and her boyfriend John, had originally come on this trip, but a few nights ago they got into a fight. Not just arguing, but it was physical. We had all gone to bed when we heard the commotion downstairs.

Scotty, a friend of mine since high school, had been sharing the small room upstairs with me. He and I were the first to burst into the downstairs bedroom. John had Renee pinned against a wall, but it looked like she had busted him in the mouth at least once. Tim arrived in the doorway less than a minute later.

I don't even know why those two had been fighting, but the three of us said we weren't going to put up with any of that bullshit, and they were going to have to pack up and leave the next morning, which they did. No one had been in their room since then.

The mattress was askew on the bed, a chair was knocked over, and there were empty beer bottles everywhere, some of them even broken.

Glancing at the kitchen, I saw it didn't look much better. Dishes, pots and pans, had been provided with the chalet and we had cooked a few meals in during the week, but no one had bothered to load the dishwasher so they were just heaped in the sink and on the counter.

I realized that if I took off now, Cheryl and Tim would be stuck cleaning the place all day. If they didn't, Tim would get a steep bill for the cleaning, since he was the one that had arranged the rental.

So I rinsed off as many plates, glasses, and utensils that I could fit in the dishwasher, and started the machine. Then I made a pass through the living room and kitchen area, picking up all the empty beer bottles, cans, and other garbage I could find, and put them in the trash can. It then occurred to me there was another mess that I should clean up, upstairs.

The door to the bathroom from my room was still locked from the other side. I felt like an intruder, walking through Cheryl and Tim's room to get in the bathroom. There was a faint outline where something had splattered on the floor tiles, been stepped in, and been left to dry. It was easy enough to clean up.

I checked the backside of the door and found what might have been where a small drop of cum had landed and run down, not quite making it to the floor. Again, that was easy to clean up.

My hand on the door to my room, I decided it might be best not to go out that way leaving it unlocked. Walking back through Cheryl and Tim's bedroom, I saw a huge pile of boxes and bags in one corner. She had certainly been doing a lot of shopping in town. Most likely Tim was picking up the tab, because that's just the way she is. A large box caught my eye.

I could tell from the label it was a pair of cowgirl boots. Now I was in enough trouble already, but I have a fetish for women's boots, so I had to check them out. There was time, right?

It was a pair from the Miranda Lambert collection. Heels maybe three inches high and lots of elaborate stitching on the shaft, but most amazing and might I say almost mesmerizing, was that the leather had a bright silver metallic finish. Perfect for a country music star to wear on stage, but I had no idea where Cheryl planned to wear these. She probably just thought they were cute and had Tim buy them for her. I realized then that my penis was starting to get hard and I had to adjust my shorts.

This was one sexy pair of boots, and I took one out of the box. If Cheryl had owned a pair like this when we'd been together I would have asked her to wear them when we had sex. She was the only girl I had confessed all my fetishes and fantasies to, and she had been kind enough to indulge me in some of them, though it was clear that such things did nothing to heighten the excitement for her.

The aroma of the new silver leather was intoxicating, and I ran my tongue slowly from the pointed toe up to the top of the shaft, trying to savor all the ridges of stitching as I went. Then I pulled down my shorts, releasing my almost fully erect penis.

I slipped the open shaft of the boot over my cock and clamped it shut, like a tight silver leather vagina. I tried to get just the right tension, so my cock could slide inside the boot shaft without chafing, but the new leather was too firm, and I wasn't completely hard.

Guilt was probably to blame. I'd been caught watching Cheryl and Tim fucking, and now here I was attempting to jerk off in one of her boots. They could be back any moment, but I thought the boots were so hot, and knew I would never get another chance to masturbate with them.

Quickly thinking of the best solution to my problem, I soon found myself on my knees on the loft. Through the railing I could see the parking area outside the window below. One boot was upright on the floor in front of me and I bent over to place my nose just inside the shaft. Inhaling the powerful scent of the new leather, I frantically stroked my cock, which I had lightly coated with lotion. The other boot lay over on its side on the floor beneath me, ready to be splattered with cum.

I had a towel nearby for a fast cleanup. All of the tissue packaging for the boots was laid out by the box in the adjacent bedroom, just in case I saw Cheryl and Tim pull up and the boots had to be put away quickly.

Despite having a great plan and being highly aroused, I couldn't stay completely hard. I would get nice and firm, jerk myself and smell the boot, only to panic if I heard a car on the road outside and then my erection was gone. I was so frustrated. I had to cum on these boots or I would never get another chance.

After what seemed like a long time I finally got hard enough and felt that familiar tightening in my scrotum, and had an orgasm. Looking down there was only a small amount of cum on the side of the boot shaft, while the rest, a relatively small load, clung to my fingers.

I didn't even allow myself to savor the moment but quickly set about cleaning the one boot, and then packing them both away as I had remembered finding them. Overall, that once in a lifetime experience of masturbating with those hot silver boots had been unsatisfying.

Cheryl and Tim didn't pull into the parking area until some hours later. The dishwasher was cycling through its final load. Renee and John's bedroom had been put back in order, and the floor swept. I was mopping the kitchen floor when they walked in the door.

Tim held the door open for Cheryl, who was carrying several large shopping bags. She barely glanced at me and headed up the stairs to their room.

"Listen man," I told him. "I'm sorry about last night. My bag is already packed. If you two want, I'll drive home right now."

At first he didn't say anything, and just stood on the other side of the kitchen island, arms folded across his chest. Then I saw him glancing around at the clean kitchen, and he stole a glance into the adjacent bedroom.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave already," he said, and looked over his shoulder at the living room, which looked as good as it did five days ago when we got here. "I appreciate you cleaning the place up. I wasn't looking forward to doing all that."

"I still need to hit the downstairs," I said, referring to the finished walk-out basement.

"I'd just assume put this behind us," he said. "But I've got to talk to Cheryl and see what she wants to do."

The basement was smaller than the other floors. There was one room with a pool table, and a small bathroom that also had a stacked washer and dryer in it. We had all stayed up late the first night, drinking beer and playing pool.

It was just one of those six foot tables, and John had bitched endlessly about how lousy it was and how shitty the cue sticks were, and how much better his game would be on a good table. I think he just sucked at pool, because Scotty, one of the best players I know, got better as the night went on and he learned the table's quirks.

I certainly didn't miss John, though Renee had been a tasty treat to look at. Long dark hair and full breasts that she proudly displayed in low cut sundresses.

Yesterday morning Scotty had gotten a call from back home. There was some family emergency and he had to leave. We had ridden together and though I offered to leave early and take him home, he had me take him to a rental car agency. Scotty was shaken about something but didn't want to talk about it. Trying to maintain his composure, he told me to check out the campgrounds as we had planned to do on the last day. I hoped things were going okay for him now.

Cleaning the downstairs was easy and really just a matter of tossing all the beer bottles and cans in the trash. There was a well-worn brush for the pool table, and I took the time to make the felt look nice.

A sliding glass door opened to a small patio area with a fire pit and hot tub off to one side, and I stood out there when I was finished. Looking down at some charred stubs in the fire pit, I remembered we had all talked about getting a fire going out here but it never happened. Perhaps we were too lazy and the gas logs in the living room fireplace were too convenient.

The view was pretty good. Obviously the mountains were great. I was undecided about the town of Gatlinburg, visible below in the distance. At one time it was just a sleepy town with a few motels for tourists, outside the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Now it was filled with restaurants, tacky souvenir shops, and any other tourist trap you could think off. The nearby town of Pigeon Forge was perhaps even worse, though there were plenty of outlet malls where Cheryl could blow Tim's money.

Scotty and I had been interested in the National Park. We had spent the days hiking the trails, including a section of the Appalachian Trail that passed through the park. Back when we had been in Scouts we had always talked about hiking that from start to finish. We had also been planning to check some of the primitive campgrounds in the park and see which one we liked best and would stay at on a return trip. It was a shame I might get kicked out of the chalet before that would happen, but then again that was my own fault.

Suddenly my mood brightened. I realized that if I got kicked out, I didn't have to drive straight home. I could make a drive through the campgrounds first before leaving the area. Complete the mission. Yeah, that would be all right. I heard the sliding glass door roll open behind me and I turned around to face Tim.

"Chris, you can stay the last night, so long as you sleep in the room that Renee and John used. You need to take off and find something to do this afternoon though," he told me. "Cheryl is still really pissed and this is the best deal I could work out."

I told him that was okay, since I had planned to check the campgrounds in the National Park. He simply nodded. Before he went back inside, he told me that he was taking Cheryl to some nice restaurant in town tonight. Some place she had seen and was saving for a romantic dinner on the last night.

"If you come back here around six or so, we'll probably be gone. We might stay out for a while too. She wants to ride that big Ferris wheel over in Pigeon Forge." I just nodded as I knew the wheel he was talking about. It was impossible to miss as you drove through town on the main strip.

"The place is looking pretty clean," he continued. "When you get up in the morning, just take off. You can grab a Mc breakfast of some kind on your way out of town and we'll take care of any dishes we dirty before we leave."

A short time later I was riding the brakes as my car wound down Ski Mountain Road into Gatlinburg, and then made a right turn towards the entrance to the National Park. It was a large park and I knew that visiting the major campgrounds would take all afternoon. It was when I got near Cades Cove that something clicked in my mind, and it had nothing to do with hiking and camping.

Cheryl and I had been together for a little over two years, and I'd like to think that things were okay most of the time, but I work in sales and my pay is based on commissions. Money was good most times, but the dollar amount on my paychecks fluctuated. I could deal with that, but it always bothered her.