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I admit to being a voyeur. I like to watch other
people have sex. Especially if they don't know I'm watching, or if they
are oblivious to my presence. It's a window into unguarded and personal
moments when people are at their most intimate and exposed.
To introduce myself -- if you haven't read my other stories -- I'm a
woman, now fifty years old, long-divorced and I'm a member of the Century
Club when it comes to sex partners. In other words, I'm a slut. I'm not
especially attractive and my personality is pretty bland, so my sexual
experience is due to taking advantage of opportunities rather than
attracting men in large numbers. I flatter myself that I'm pretty good in
bed.
I visited China on a tour when I was 43. I shared a hotel room with a
sweet attractive 30 year old woman named Sandy. She and a handsome single
man on the tour of the same age became enamored with each other. The third
night of the tour -- we were in Xian -- my roomie broached the subject
with me.
"Becky, this is embarrassing to ask, but would you mind if Andy came to
the room tonight?"
"No," answered I, not offended but a little jealous. There were no men in
this group for me. A sex-less two weeks loomed ahead.
Well, Andy came to our room that night and the two of them made the earth
move. The room was small and our two single beds were separated only by a
small lamp table. Andy and Sandy bounced up and down on that little bed
for an hour while I pretended to sleep -- and secretly brought myself to a
quiet climax just about the same time they did. After they finished with
sex Andy departed for his own room.
That set the pattern for the next several nights. They fucked and I
pretended to be asleep. I especially enjoyed watching them one night when
moonlight flooded the room. They did a 69 and there was enough light for
me to see his erect penis as she took him in her mouth and brought him
slowly to climax. I was worried that their bed would collapse when he
cummed in her mouth while her hips were bouncing up and down over his
face. They paid no attention to me during their revels. When they finished
he sat on the edge of the bed facing me and I could have reached out and
taken his limp penis in my hand. In my pretend sleep I had loosed a button
on my night dress and one of my breasts was exposed in the moonlight while
I slumbered innocently. He didn't seem to notice. My invisibility both
irritated and excited me.
I've had many failures and frustrations in my love life, but this turned
out to be one of the lucky times -- for me, not for Sandy. She got sick in
Changsha -- deathly ill with amoebic dysentery -- and she spent a night in
the hospital with a needle in her arm getting re-hydrated. Andy and I
visited her in the hospital that night and as we were returning to the
hotel in a taxi he said. "I apologize for all the inconvenience we've
caused you. You're a sweetheart. And tell me," he said after a pause,
"have you really been asleep all these nights?"
I giggled like a schoolgirl. "Well," I admitted, "I noticed that the two
of you were enjoying each other."
"You could sleep through an earthquake if you hadn't. Thanks for putting
up with us."
"My pleasure." And it really was.
When we got back to the room, Andy dropped a hint. "I hate to go to my
room," he said. "My roommate is a boring old man who talks too much and
snores and gets up too early."
I contemplated a minute. "There's an empty bed in my room. I think you're
familiar with it."
"You wouldn't mind?" I assured him that I wouldn't.
He came to my door an hour later. I had showered and prettied myself,
including a dab of perfume behind each ear and I had (again) loosed a
button on my knee-length night dress to show deep, impressive cleavage
and, if I bent over just a tiny bit, a pretty pink nipple. We exchanged a
friendly hug and he clung to me a touch longer than necessary, my breasts
pressed against him.
I chattered as I slipped into bed, my night dress riding up to show my
upper leg as I pulled the bedcovers halfway around myself. He sat on his
bed and started taking off his shoes. "Do you mind if I shower?"
I didn't. I sat in bed, propped up by pillows and read my book and made
sure that my cleavage was prominent. He came out of the shower wearing
only a towel and sat down on my bed. "I....uhh....," he began. I reached
forward, put an arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. It was
an innocent good night kiss if he wanted it that way. He didn't. His arm
went around my waist and his lips traveled around my cheek and down my
chin to my neck. I laid my book on the table and the bedcovers fell away
from me. My bare leg was against his and one breast came out of the
nightdress to press against his shoulder.
He gently moved me away and I had a panic-stricken moment that he was
leaving. But he wasn't. Instead he took a long look at my bare boob and
finally said, "I saw your breast the other night after ....uh....Sandy and
I...uh...you were sleeping and it....uh..."
This lad was inarticulate, but his lips found mine and no further chatter
was necessary. I turned off the light, laid back; his towel fell off and
my nightdress rode up over my stomach and we were kissing, side by side,
his penis rubbing against me. I helped him pull my nightdress over my head
and off. He took the initiative in giving me a very nice going over with
his mouth working down from my ears to my clitoris. I was making the
bedsprings sing in tune to his tongue when he asked, "Do you want to cum?"
"No," said I. "Make it last. I want it with you inside me." He relaxed on
his back and I recovered for a moment. Then, I rolled over half on top of
him and kissed and sucked him.
"Make me cum," he said as I neared his penis. "Then, I'll last longer when
we fuck." He didn't have to ask me twice. My preferred technique for a
blow job is to build the man to a climax with gentle licks and kisses. And
when they're ready I clamp down hard with my lips to the tip of their
penis and suck the cum out of them like drinking soda through a straw. Men
writhe with pleasure. Often they pull my mouth away from their penis
because they can't stand the intense spasms.
Andy relaxed for a good fifteen minutes after cumming and I was afraid
that his promise to fuck was not going to be fulfilled. But he rose again
-- with a little help -- rolled over on top of me and proceeded to pump
long and hard -- at least ten minutes -- while I went off like the Fourth
of July once, then a minute of relaxation, then again, and relax again,
and finally a third time in which he joined me in a glorious finale. "Five
firecrackers, out of five," I said to myself, rating the experience.
Andy spent the night in the other bed in the room. While we sipped
room-service coffee in our beds the next morning, we talked about checking
Sandy out of the hospital. "This might be a little uncomfortable," he
said. "I mean you, and me, and her....uh."
"If you're talking about sex, you two continue just like I'm not here.
I'll enjoy watching," I said with a laugh.
But I didn't watch. I was tired that night and I don't know whether Sandy
felt well enough yet to have sex. And the next night I was also tired and
drifted away while they were entwined with each other. Then, the trip was
over. Andy and Sandy got married later -- and I've seen them a couple of
times since, but he and I have never repeated our memorable tryst. But who
knows? Someday...maybe. I'll be ready. |
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