A View from Below

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Voyeurism leads to more.
3.5k words
4.08
12.5k
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Years ago, my girlfriend Julia and I were spending a long ski weekend at a small vacation house with her sister and brother-in-law. We were joined by Ted, a man who worked with Julia, and Ted's girlfriend, Kristen. I'd met Julia's sister a few times before that weekend, though I barely knew Ted and had never met Kristen.

Each couple had their own bedroom on the lower floor. The rooms were barely large enough for the beds, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table with a lamp. The rooms were accessed from a narrow hallway that ran from a stairway to the upstairs at one end to a common bathroom at the other end. Julia's sister and her husband claimed the bedroom next to the bathroom that had the only double bed. The remaining bedrooms each had a pair twin beds. Julia and I chose the bedroom closest to the stairway to the upstairs. Up on the main floor was the main entrance to the house, and a single open room with the kitchen at one end, an eating area in the middle, and a living room next to the stairway to the lower level.

As cramped as we were on Friday night, things got even tighter on Saturday. A fourth couple - friends of the owners but unknown to the rest of us - arrived in the late afternoon after the ski lifts closed. Introductions were made, wine was opened, another log was thrown into the smoldering living room fireplace, and we all rubbed elbows and broke bread. By nine o'clock it had been pitch dark for hours, the temperature was dropping below ten degrees under a clear sky, and it was clear that the newcomers were spending the night. They wound up on the hide-a-bed couch upstairs in front of the fireplace, while the original six of us retired to our rooms downstairs.

Sunday was another ski day. When the lifts closed, the eight of us rendezvoused back at the house. My girlfriend and Ted needed to be back at work on Monday morning, so they packed up and drove home in his car that evening, leaving Kristen with her car, which she had driven up separately, and me with my car. The remaining six of us were going to spend one last night in the house, ski all day Monday, and drive home Monday evening.

Once again, dinner was convivial and well lubricated. By eleven o'clock we had finished four bottles of wine, the kitchen dishes were stacked and drying, and we were all ready for our beds. Though as it turns out, not all of us were ready for sleep.

A big meal, too much wine, and fatigue from a long day put me into a drowsy state. As I tried to settle into my too-small, too-cold bed, I became aware of the unmistakable sounds of sex penetrating the thin walls. I kept still and listened. It was the couple upstairs. I could hear the creaking springs of the hide-a-bed, soft female moans and whimpers, and low-pitched male grunts. I was instantly wide awake and aroused. My heart thumped. I tried as best I could to breathe silently, straining to hear every audible detail.

I felt compelled to get closer. I slipped out of bed and went to the door. Could I open it without making a noise? I slowly turned the knob, then slowly, so slowly, opened the door, trying to remember if the hinges squeaked. They didn't squeak. The hallway outside the bedroom was dark, as the only light came from the fireplace upstairs that produced an eerie flickering that bounced off the wood-paneled walls. Were the others asleep in their bedrooms? I could hear the upstairs couple more clearly now, even though they seemed to be making an effort to be quiet. I stood in the doorway of my room and glanced down the hallway at the other two bedroom doors. They were closed - at least for now.

The base of the stairway was two short steps away. I had to get closer. I stepped, shifting my weight. The floor creaked and I froze. My heart thumped a count to five. I stepped again. My toes were at the first step. The bedsprings and the moans continued their siren call. I stepped up. I stood there, listening. When I was standing in the hallway at the base of the stairs, I could rationalize to anyone else who emerged from a bedroom that I was merely making a visit to the bathroom. But when I was standing on the stairs, there could be no other explanation of what I was doing, other than the truth of the matter - that I was a voyeur.

I didn't care. I stepped up again. Then again. Now I could peer up and over the edge of the upstairs floor, through the thin vertical poles of the railing, and I could see the woman's head. She was no more than a dozen feet from where I was standing. My heart pounded at the thrill and the risk of what I was doing.

I stepped upward once again to see more. The man lay on his back and the woman straddled him. It was a magnificent sight. She sat mostly upright, her hands steadying herself on his chest, her profile visible in the dim light from the fireplace at her back, outlined by the even dimmer light from the large living room windows. Her hips undulated for a few delicious seconds and the bedsprings groaned and she moaned and he grunted, then she slowed her movements and quieted the bed. I could hear her breathing, hear it heavy and gasping. I could see her breasts and his hands that caressed them. I envisioned his thick hardness that stabbed up inside her body as her hips circled around it, using his cock to scratch and stretch and rub her pleasure onward and upward.

I stood there and studied them. I was mesmerized. I watched and listened to their passion, their lust, and felt mine join them. This woman, this man. The passion of these lovers was climbing. The pauses became shorter. Their noises became less constrained, less self-conscious. They cared no more about who was downstairs listening to them than I did. I was paralyzed.

And then, horror upon horror, I heard a slight noise at the bottom on the stairs. It was Kristen, staring up at me with a puzzled expression. Oh dear God, how could I explain this? Here I was, standing more than halfway up the steps, obviously watching an intimate scene with my erection tenting in my sweatpants - and my hand was stuffed down the front of my pants. I quickly withdrew my hand, but damage was done. I was busted. I was mortified.

I took a first step down in my walk of shame, when Kristen raised a hand to motion me to stop. She slowly, quietly climbed the steps to my level. I stepped back to give her room. Then, cautiously, she ascended one more step and peered through the bottom of the railing at the couple on the bed, who were oblivious to the drama taking place a few feet away. The woman was still undulating on her boyfriend, breathing heavily. The bedsprings were still creaking. Kristin glanced back at me, briefly, then returned to stare at the lovers. My erection returned.

If I was busted, then Kristen was busted, too.

We watched together in silence. Kristen stood in front of me, one step higher and a few short inches away. And then, contact. Had I moved forward? Had she moved back? Did we both move toward each other? Kristen's hand reached back to my hip, then to the front of my sweatpants. There was no hiding my erection. Her hand slid up to the waistband, and then inside. Her fist grasped my shaft. I was in shock.

In shock, but not paralyzed. Our eyes were glued on the couple who were fucking in front of us. I reached around Kristen and cupped her panty-covered pubic mound. She didn't resist. Why would she, when her hand was wrapped around my erection? Emboldened, I slid my hand down the front of her panties. There I found soft pubic hair and, below, a thoroughly aroused vulva. Kristen groaned and squeezed my stiffness.

So there we were, this sexual tableau of two couples. One couple was seemingly oblivious to everything except each other. The woman was now rocking her hips nonstop, panting and gasping, charging toward her orgasm. The man was cupping her breasts, emitting his own quiet grunts. The bedsprings were squeaking a rhythmic complaint. The second couple - Kristen and me - were rapt in our own vicarious focus. Our hands were mimicking a small measure of what we were watching.

When the woman on the bed climaxed, she crested quickly. Her final surge was a nonstop ten seconds of forceful hip thrusts as they locked eyes, her hands on his chest, his hands now holding her hips. Her soft moans became guttural, synchronized at first with her hips but at the end becoming erratic, syncopated, as she flung her head back and alternated between holding her breath and exhaling it with sharp, exclamatory grunts of pleasure.

When she came, she arched her back and slowed her hips and I saw the paralyzed pleasure ripple through her, her wobbling breasts in profile, her open mouth aimed at the ceiling, her shoulder length hair hanging free down her back. The man joined her, his hips bucking upward as he sought a final purchase inside her body, his grunts echoing hers. I could feel her orgasm, her little quivering clutches of his cock that was spasming inside her slickness. Kristen's fist tightened around my shaft. I curled two fingers just barely inside her vagina.

And then it was over. The woman's body folded forward against his, and his hands caressed her back. They sighed and whispered and readjusted themselves on the bed, satiated, spent. Unlike me, of course. I was frazzled, standing on the stairs and probably visible to them had they not been so preoccupied with each other. My erection throbbed in Kristen's now-relaxed grasp. My heart thumped like a drum in my chest. My mouth was dry. I knew it was time to retreat, beginning with my hand stuffed down Kristen's panties.

We ducked and quietly made our way down the stairs. At the bottom, Kristen turned to me, silent. She glanced down the hallway to the remaining closed bedroom door, then back to my face. We stood there for an eternity of a moment, then she took my hand and led me into my bedroom. I closed the door behind us. Without a word, we embraced and kissed. It was a lustful kiss, full of tongue and passionate breaths. She broke away first, whispering "Ted is fucking Julia, you know."

"I've thought that might be true," I replied. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Kristin took my hand and led me to my twin bed with its rumpled sheets.

It was a mutual rush. We dropped into the bed. Our mouths connected as four hands hurried to disrobe. In the near darkness, Kristen and I replicated the scene we had just witnessed. She straddled my hips and impaled her vagina on my achingly stiff erection, my hardened flesh in sharp contrast with the warm, soft creaminess of her walls. Her impatient hips thrust against me, driving me deep, undulating both her pleasure and mine around my cock that was spreading her open.

How long did it take? One minute? Two minutes? Five? Kristen and I were both on the edge, both primed to explode, and explode we did. Just as my erection stiffened in its final surge, Kristen's hips jammed down on me and we climaxed together. Our hips writhed together. We both strained and stretched against each other and tried our best to muffle our grunts. My cock pulsed its release as Kristen arched her back and mouthed a long grimace of agonized pleasure to the ceiling. I could feel her pressing the roughened patch of her g-spot against my shaft as I buried myself in her tender capture and emptied my balls.

As we both returned to earth, Kristin slumped against my chest. Her face nestled against my neck, exhaling quick, moist breaths against my skin. My erection was softening, and one of her gentle PC muscle clenches squeezed my cock out of her vagina. "Oops," she murmured.

"That was intense," I told her. "A sort of revenge fuck, I guess."

"Maybe some. Mostly it was from watching those two upstairs. And you fingering me. And me holding your cock."

"True." I felt her juices leaking on my cock. "Were we too loud?"

"I don't think so."

We were silent for a minute. My hands slowly caressed her ass and back. Kristin sighed, then raised herself up on her elbows. She gave me a quick kiss, then said, "I'm sorry. I need to visit the bathroom."

She rolled off me and stood up next to the bed before I could say anything. She leaned down to grab her nightshirt from the floor and pulled it on over her head, then silently walked to the door, opened it, and disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind her. I wondered if she was intending to return to my room or just go to her room, which was next to the bathroom, when in the darkness I saw my bedroom door open again. Kristin quietly slipped back into the small bed and snuggled against me, still wearing her nightshirt.

"I'm back. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely."

"I think Ted and Julia have been fucking for six months," Kristin whispered.

That was longer than I had suspected. "Does he know that you know?"

"No. I wanted to see if it was a brief fling that I could ignore, before I did anything drastic."

"And can you? I need to figure out what I want to do about Julia."

"I haven't decided." We were silent again for few moments, then Kristin spoke again. "Do you want to be on top of me?"

"Yes."

I scrunched to the edge of the bed, and Kristin moved to the center and lay on her back, again removing her nightshirt and dropping it on the floor. When I hovered above her, holding myself up on my knees and outstretched arms, she curled her legs around mine and reached up to pull me down closer. We kissed, this time much less frantically, and we both adjusted our bodies until my cock - still mostly soft - nestled against her still-swollen labia.

"Maybe this time," Kristin murmured into my ear, "we can do that 'revenge fuck'. This time a bit slower."

I chuckled. "I think that's entirely possible. Hey, I didn't ask before. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes. I get the shot."

"Good. And I imagine the four of us are sharing germs, too. Not that I have germs."

Kristin chuckled. "Oh I'm pretty sure that Ted isn't using a condom. Yeah, we've been sharing for months now."

We resumed our long kisses. My hips began a subtle, slow motion, and Kristin's hips soon matched mine. My erection slowly, ever so slowly, came back to life. Kristin's face went cheek to cheek with mine, and her fingernails drifted up and down my back. "Did you like being inside me? Earlier?" she whispered.

"I did. Did you like me inside you?"

Kristin answered by reaching a hand between us, pressing my half-hard penis downward to aim it at her opening, and nudged it until I popped inside her. "What do you think?" she whispered. I pushed my hips forward, and now my half-hard was fully embedded and, thankfully, most definitely returning to full form. "I want to feel you get hard," she said.

"You feel incredible," I breathed. I was stroking in and out now, certain that I was hard enough and wasn't going to slip out. Kristin's hands found their way to my butt, and her hands and hips communicated the slightly faster tempo she seemed to want. We moved in sync together, both of us exhaling barely audible moans and gasps and groans.

"I have to ask," Kristin whispered into my ear. "How does my body compare?"

"Your breasts are gorgeous. A bit bigger. Bigger nipples, too."

"And my pussy?"

"Wetter. Smoother. Like warm silk." Kristin squeezed around the base of my shaft. "And stronger." She giggled and gave me another clench. "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"How do I compare?"

"Men are all alike," she chuckled. "Your egos all connected to the size of your dick."

"So I'm smaller."

"I didn't say that. You're about the same as him. Maybe slightly smaller."

"Uh huh."

"But you get stiffer." I stroked into Kristin with a stronger thrust. "And the way you move your hips..." at which point I muscled my cock as deep as I could get and stretched her opening in little circles. Kristin breathed heavily. "You know how to fuck."

And I did just that. I maintained the same rhythm of deep, lazy strokes, bottoming out with an extra pressure against her labia and clit, occasionally adding a little circular stretch of her opening. It all seemed to work well for both of us. Kristin exhaled quiet murmurs and moans and whispers of encouragement. When she wanted me to speed up, her fingernails would nick into my ass and her hips would rock upward to meet my downward thrusts. Her vagina felt incredibly alive to me as her muscles nibbled at my cock and her juices flowed freely and the bedsprings squeaked.

Finally, after a good ten minutes of this steady rhythm, she announced, "You're going to make me cum again," and I decided it was time to speed up and get us both there. Soon I was thumping into her, and she was whimpering and whining soft noises of pleasure.

"Come with me," she panted. "Fuck oh fuck oh fuck I'm coming..." Kristin exhaled a long, guttural groan and I knew it was time. I gave her a half dozen deep, final thrusts and then just held myself buried inside her as my ejaculations pulsed, again and again. Kristin's back arched and her body stiffened and she held her breath. Her kegels clenched around the base of my cock for a delicious two or three second, then relaxed, then returned for a series of a few short grips.

And then we were finished, both panting for oxygen. I held myself above her, our eyes locked together. Kristin's fingernails scribbled up and down my back. I lowered my head and kissed her. "I think," she whispered, "I think you filled me." I stroked my deflating cock a few times, and then buried myself inside her again. "Now you've got me sopping wet."

"Maybe think of it as revenge?"

"Maybe. That's not what I was thinking about a few minutes ago."

"And what were you thinking about?"

Kristin's kegels gave me another squeeze, and that one ejected my softened cock. "Oops!" She laughed. "I did it again."

"It was inevitable."

"Anyway, that's what I was thinking about. Just enjoying you. Not thinking about Ted. Or Julia. Or Ted and Julia."

I sat upright and cupped her breasts. "So now what?"

Julia reached a hand down between her legs. She wrinkled her nose. "Now I need to go to the bathroom again, before I make a huge mess on your bed."

I chuckled. "That's okay. It was all worth it. But I meant, what are we going to do about them?"

"I imagine that right about now, her vagina is as sloppy as mine." Kristin propped herself up on one elbow. "I need to get up."

I got out of bed, and Kristin rolled to the edge and stood up, cupping her pussy with one hand. She kissed me, then said, "I hate to leave, but I need to. And we need to finish the night in separate beds."

I sighed. "You're right."

"Let's keep in touch. Okay?"

She gave me one more quick kiss, then retrieved her nightshirt and panties from the floor and put them on. When she got to the door, she turned to me and smiled, then silently disappeared into the hallway.

In the morning, Kristin exhibited no hint of the previous evening's intimacies. We stood in the kitchen, surrounded by the others who were busily preparing for our final day on the slopes. "I think I'm going to drive home this morning," she announced. "I don't feel the need to ski another day."

I didn't speak to Kristin for a few weeks after that. Julia was subdued after the ski weekend, and two weeks later she moved out. A week after that I got a call from Kristin. She and Ted had broken up, and Ted (surprise, surprise) was now living with Julia. Kristin invited me over to her place, and that was the beginning of a weekly Friends With Benefits get-together that went on for several months before we mutually decided that the "revenge sex" wasn't good for either of us over the long term.

Still, over the short term, it worked pretty well.

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 7 years ago
REVENGE

He realised with Kristin that a revenge fuck was not the final end to the situation. He and Kristin need to get together to formulate a satisfactory revenge, to conclude the matter.

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