Beach Voyeur

I have enjoyed discreetly and sometimes indiscreetly observing women on beaches for as long as I can remember. This, I suppose, makes me a voyeur. I also enjoy exhibitionism, but that is another story. I am not the kind of voyeur who spies on women. That's why the beach is my favoured place for voyeuristic encounters. I like the woman who is the object of my voyeuristic attention to know that I am watching and admiring her. If she encourages me, then that is the voyeur's equivalent of full intercourse and the best result possible.

What all of this means is that I have had to learn how to choose my targets well. The idea of being identified and loudly outed as a pervert by a woman who finds such attention offensive mortifies me. So far this has never happened, which suggests that I am a discerning chooser of ladies to look at. So, how do I choose? My choices are determined by the very activity of beach voyeurism itself, the type of women I find desirable, and my sixth sense that tells me whether or not a woman will enjoy my attention. My greatest triumph as a beach voyeur is the story I am going to tell you now.

I live close to the sea and in summertime, most afternoons I walk along the beach on my way home from work. I have been living here for three summers and my third summer of indulging my voyeurism has just ended. It was this summer that it happened. Before, the best result I had had at this beach was a session of mutual voyeurism and exhibitionism with a large and middle aged lady late one July afternoon the summer before last, which reached its climax with her pulling aside the gusset of her bikini pants to give me a full display of her shaved pussy. She looked me in the eye as she did, as if defying me to look at her. She kept her pussy exposed for a full minute at least and brushed a finger over its lips just before she replaced her gusset. I reciprocated by taking my very erect cock from my swimming shorts and giving it a good stroke while she watched. I would have liked to have wanked myself until I came for her, but a figure appeared on the otherwise deserted beach and put an end to our pleasures. I also would have liked the opportunity to take things further, but shortly after showing me her cunt, she stood up and packed away her things and walked off towards he steps that lead up from the sands to the promenade, and no doubt home to her husband. All I had to console me was the thought that if her husband fucked her that night, she would be thinking of me and how she had exposed her pussy to me and how I had shown her my erect cock, while her husband's cock ploughed into and out of that lovely, plump lipped cunt of hers.

Usually I target women alone, but this time they were two. They were almost always at the beach and they always lay on their sun beds at the same spot and they were the object of a lot of male attention, some of which was unwanted, I could tell, and some of which, I believed, they feigned not to want.

There were both middle aged and one was still very good looking and the other less so, though not at all unattractive and it was the less good looking of the two of them who had much the better tits. They were large and heavy and barely hidden under the small bikini top that struggled to hold them. The cleavage was memorably fine.

It was the contradiction between their looks and manner and the bikinis that they wore, and their hostility to much of the male attention that they attracted that intrigued me.

One afternoon I was walking past them just as blonde was shouting at a group of four or five young lads, no more than sixteen or seventeen, who had pretty well sat down at the end of the ladies' sun beds. I mean, I ask you, the subtlety of youth! Boys, boys, I wanted to tell them, that's not the way to do it. You have to be a bit discreet. Even if a woman wants to be looked at as she sun bathes in her bikini at the beach, he does not want the rest of the beach to know she's letting you look.

She was severe with them and they made off quickly. Her severity excited me and we caught each other's eye for a moment and there seemed to be a look of disbelief and resignation in hers, as if she wanted me to go over and agree with her that men were pigs and especially young ones.

I think of myself as an ethical voyeur. I don't do it covertly. I don't peep through keyholes or peep through windows. For me the thrill is in the woman's complicity in the game and I only choose women who want to play and I have a talent for finding them.

There are different types of women who enjoy the game, and I am sure they take differing pleasures from it. There are those who like knowing they are being looked at, but act as though they don't know they are. They give no encouragement, but they offer no resistance either. The women who respond like this tend to be younger and good looking. They are the ones who don't need to try hard and who are used to attention

The only constant among all of the types is that no woman likes to be leered out and no woman likes her voyeur to be too obvious about it. She might want to enjoy his attentions, but she does not want everyone else around to know that she is allowing a man to watch her.

This is where these young lads go wrong. Sure enough when I reached the place where our ladies were stretched out on their sun beds, three youngsters, the same age as the ones they had shooed away the week before, had parked themselves a the foot of the sun beds. As soon as one of the ladies sat up and saw them there would be a scene and everyone around them would be invited to join in the moral outrage of two nice middle aged ladies whose privacy had been violated by three young reptiles.

The next day at about the same time I passed them as usual and she noticed me passing. I looked for a second, to take in the curves of her body and enjoy the way she laid on her sun bed legs apart. I looked away and then just before I was past the point from where I could look without turning my head around, I took a last quick glance. She was still looking at me and it was a look of interest. She did not look away and she was still looking when she disappeared from my field of vision. I am certain that if I had turned my head around to see her, she would still have been looking then.

When I got home my wife was out, so I poured myself a glass of wine, went to the bedroom, stripped off and lay on the bed. I lit a cigarette, took a gulp of wine and closed my eyes and pictured her in my mind's eye, looking hot and ready on her sun bed. My cock was soon hard and when I had finished my cigarette I wanked for her until I came and my spunk shot and splattered over my stomach.

The next day was Saturday, so no work and no walk along the beach home. No doubt our two ladies were there as usual on their sun beds, enjoying the beach and the sun, enjoying displaying their aging, but still desirable bodies in their skimpy bikinis and laying legs apart temptingly. And when some young buck was tempted, screaming at him for looking, but then, was it for looking, or for not being more discreet and subtle about looking? They were a puzzle to me and all weekend I found my mind wandering to thoughts of them.

Monday came and I got lucky. My wife got a call on Sunday from her sister, who needed her to go and look after her kids until Tuesday, so she would not notice if I was late home on Monday. I had decided that today I would take my chance, but then I asked myself, my chance on what? Was it the challenge of getting those ladies to play a little voyeur game, and with one or both of them, or would I, given the chance, like a voyeur game to be only the prelude to some fun on the beach, after the crowds had gone, or even spending an evening somewhere with one or both of them? If it all went that far, it would be the first time in seven years of marriage that I had cheated on my wife; as if voyeur games at the park and the mall and in cafes and at the beach were not cheating. But, in my sophist's mind, as long as there was no physical contact, it was not cheating or betrayal.

I observed the scene and looked around. Luck was with me. It was a very warm day and the beach was busy, but there was an empty spot on the sand at an angle of about forty-five degrees to the ends of their sun and about two and half metres from them. This is the perfect spot to sit in an attempt to initiate a game, and I would have chosen it even if the young bucks had not been there right in the hot spot directly below the ladies.

I sat down facing the sea; that is facing away from them, but at an angle that enabled me to take a glance back at them without having to crane around. I had a clear view between both of their legs, for as always they were laid out with legs thrown apart. My eye travelled first up blonde's leg, beginning at her slender right foot; with me to the left of them, it was the insides of their right legs that were visible to me. Blonde was far side from me and brunette on my side, but it was blonde who I desired most. My eyes lingered over her feet with their painted toenails and the ankle bracelet whose chain hung down towards her heel. She had great legs, shapely with nice muscle definition and her tanned skin shone as the sunlight caught the oily tanning lotion that she had worked very it with her manicured hands. My eyes roved up her legs until they were focused on her inner thigh. I took my time, savouring the sight. I was three or so metres from her, but I felt as if I could reach out and touch her. Finally my eyes reached the mound of her crotch and came to rest there. Her bikini pants were black and not skimpy, but they were skin caressingly tight and the shape of her mound and the strong line of a camel toe were clear to see. My cock hardened. I was relaxing into the pleasure when brunette opened her eyes and sat up. She caught me looking as she sat up and for a moment there was displeasure in her eyes. Then she saw the young bucks. She stared at them. They looked away, with a look of shame in their eyes, and gazed down at the sand. Blonde, sensing something was going on, sat up too.

'Get out of here, go on, move somewhere else,' she hissed at them. Looking at the look of rage on her face, her words were moderate.

She and brunette exchanged a few words and then blonde took up her pack of cigarettes from her bag beside her and offered one to her friend and took one for herself. I was keen to watch. I like to watch women smoke. I was careful though. They chatted and their anger seemed to have gone with the gauche boys, who had wandered off down the beach. They would not be back, but there are plenty more like them who would come by sooner or later.

They were laughing and animated in their chatting as they finished their cigarettes and then made to lie down and return to their sun bathing. Blonde was the first to lie back and as she did, she looked over at me and our eyes met for a fleeting second. I could see the briefest glimmer of recognition in them, but beyond that they were blank. There was no little sparkle that said encouragement and no darkening that said get out of here. As her head hit her little pillow, brunette looked over. There was no glint of recognition in her eyes, just the registering of my presence. She glanced quickly at her recumbent friend and I know that she knew that blonde had noted me there too. Blonde's legs were already in their customary open position and as brunette laid back she looked at me again knowingly, and then, when she was horizontal, opened her legs, wider than she usually did, and then adjusted her position very slightly to face me a little.

It was game on. However, the game was going to be more complicated than the way I had played before. I usually go for a woman alone, as I said, but here I had two. They both knew what was up. Blonde had been non-committal when she saw me. Brunette knew that Blonde knew that the game was on, but Blonde did not know that Brunette knew, or that she knew Blonde knew.

Nothing happened for a couple of minutes, but then Blonde turned her head to brunette and satisfied that Brunette was off in her thoughts, eyes closed, Blonde's hand slipped slowly onto her stomach and then down onto her bikini pants and kept going slowly southwards until her fingertip were on the mound of her pussy. Her hand stopped going down and her fingers began gently to press the material. It was gentle and discreet enough to have been the adjusting of the pants or the scratching of an itch, but hard and deliberate enough to make the line of her camel toe more pronounced. Then she ran her fingertip softly back and forth, no more than an inch each way, up and down the little valley.

My cock twitched violently in my pants and I watched her discreet little show and imagined the thoughts going through her mind as she made to play with herself. The thing was over in twenty seconds or so, but not before Brunette had seen what Blonde had done.

Just as Blonde's hand slid away up and over her stomach to its usual place at her side, Brunette's right leg slide up and she eased herself around an inch more in my direction, with the double effect of obscuring my view of Blonde and providing me with a better angle to look at her. After a few seconds, and knowing that my eyes would be fixed on her, she lifted her head a little and looked across at me. There as no smile in her yes and no invitation. It was a hard look that asked 'do you dare?' and 'do you have enough to keep looking when I look at you looking?' That is a hard gaze to withstand, but I was not going to look away. I wasn't even going to blink. We held each other's gaze for a full ten seconds and then, as she laid her head back on her pillow, the hint of a smile played across her lips. She had me and she knew it and she had set it up so that I was looking at her and couldn't see her more attractive friend.

She was a player too. The first of my questions was answered. They were on for the game. It was not that they were offended at being looked at when they told off the young boys. It was that they wanted to play with pro's like themselves. Holding that gaze of hers was the test. I had passed. I had passed all of the other tests that led up to that big one too. I had sat aside as well as below them, and close enough to get play started and far enough away not to invade their space, and not to draw the attention of innocent bystanders.

My mind raced ahead as I admired Brunette's legs and the roll of her stomach that bulged and hung over the waistband of her bikini pants. Her pants were red and skimpier than Blonde's, but less hugging and I could not see any trace of pussy mound.

As my eyes roamed over her body my thoughts found their way to images of her naked, taking cocks in her hands and in her mouth and of her being fucked in her pussy and her arse. I wondered if a voyeur game was as far as it went with them or if this was a pick up game that ended with a session at one of their homes. I wondered if they were a double act or if they were in competition with each other and may the worst woman win. Or perhaps the competition was the tactic that led to the double act later?

Brunette had behaved competitively in lifting her knee to block my view of Blonde. Blonde must have seen what Brunette had done by now, but she had not yet made any countermove.

I wondered what I would do if things moved on. If I had to choice, that would be easy. I would take Blonde, but then if it was Brunette on offer, I would take that. I wanted them both, together, and I wanted it badly.

Brunette's move was typical of the less attractive of a pair of lady friends. It seemed to me clear that these two ladies were friends of long standing. They both knew that Blonde was the more attractive and was going to get most of the male attention. Blonde was friends with Brunette because she liked to be top dog and Brunette was friends with Blonde because with Blonde as the other half of the team Brunette was raised up a couple of divisions. This is not to say she was unattractive. She was not, but for a lot of men, a big shapely pair of tits is not enough to compensate for the spread elsewhere. Blonde was slim and curvy and leaving aside the lines, she had the body of a woman fifteen years her junior.

Not that the greater youthfulness of her body was the pull for me. I like older women. That's one reason why I target women over forty for my voyeur games. Another reason is that they are more game for it. Younger women, if they are good looking, get all the attention they need all the time and can afford to disdain the voyeur game, and they want to be in control of the lookers and how they look at them. The young who are not so good looking suffer from the inhibitions of the young and they lack the confidence to be brazen. Women over forty are at the age when they have to accept that they won't get the attention anymore the way they used to, if they are good looking, and if they are not, the take what they can get. It's all a matter of supply and demand. Brunette was hot enough to have her admirers, but not as hot as Blonde, and she had decided the trade off was worth making. Better to be second in line for premier league guys that at the front of the queue for lower division fare. And of course Blonde knew all of this too and she lay back and let Brunette have her time in the limelight. She would make her move when she was ready.

For a while none of us made any moves. With Brunette's moves we had reached a point of intensity which can be held for a while and then needs to be taken higher, and the only higher place to go as to speak or to touch. We could have spoken, but none of us did, and there was no scope for any physical contact with the beach so crowded. If you can't go up, you have to go down, and so we did. The game entered a new phase.

Blonde went on sunbathing as if unconcerned and Brunette stayed in the position she had taken up, and only every couple of minutes discreetly opened her eyes to see that I was still discreetly admiring her. Things stayed this way for a quarter of an hour or so, until Blonde sat up and reached into her bag for her cigarettes, casting a glance over at me as she did and taking note of what was what. It was as though she was about to smirk, but she held onto it and smiled enigmatically to herself. She said something to Brunette, who sat up and took a cigarette from her. Nice move, I thought; using the pretext of a smoke to alter the shape of the game. Brunette's desire for nicotine seemed to have got the better of her desire to keep the advantage in the game.

When they finished their cigarettes, Blonde sat back a little and adjusted the position of her legs, opening them a little. Then Brunette said something to Blonde and they both giggled and Brunette walked down the beach to the sea. My guess was that she needed to pee and was going to do it in the sea. The thought turned me on. I like the idea of women urinating. Blonde continued to sit motionless. I hoped she would turn towards me, but she just glanced over every now and then.

I had arrived at the beach at about four thirty and it was almost half past five. The sun was still hot, but people were beginning to pack up their towel and put their clothes back on over their swimwear and head for home. With fewer people around we might have the chance to step up the game.

If we were going to go higher, Blonde was going to make me work for it. What I needed was an opportunity to speak to her, but there was nothing to say that was not obvious and trite. What was I to do? Comment on the weather? Say 'the beach is busy today,' or 'baby, the way your bikini pants hug your pussy looks just great.'

Rescue came in the form of two young bucks, who came strolling down the beach just as I was beginning to despair of finding a way of moving seamlessly from eyes games to conversation. It has to be seamless and for that you need something to happen that brings you together in a situation, so that speech seems the natural step. As they approached the spot where Blonde was sitting on the end of her sun bed, my eyes met hers and there was a moment of mutual understanding between us. We both knew exactly what was going to happen next, and sure enough, one of them turned slyly to the other and said something. His friend nodded and they sat down, right in front of her.