tagExhibitionist & VoyeurA Visit to the Schmitts

A Visit to the Schmitts


During the first summer after finishing High School, my parents had planned a family vacation for me and my little sister; I was getting too old to enjoy tagging around with them so I convinced them not to make me go along. They understood my lack of interest in going to see historical landmarks with them but didn't trust me to stay home alone. Hence they had arranged that I'd be staying with the Schmitts for a couple of days. The Schmitts used to be our neighbors almost 10 years earlier, but since moving out of state we didn't see them often. Mr. Schmitt was on a business trip so it would just be my friend John, his younger sister Greta, his Mom and me. It had been several years since we had been neighbors and elementary school chums but since we had been so close when neighbors my mother had kept in pretty steady touch with their family. Now John and I were both finished with High School.

When I was younger I hadn't thought twice about John's mother and his sister Greta, though my age, she was a girl that we only played with if we needed more kids for playing group games. After my parents dropped me off and I brought my suitcase into the Schmitt's house, I immediately noticed sizable mounds on Greta's chest that didn't used to be there. I surmised that Greta like myself had experienced the wonders of puberty since we had last seen each other. John's mother was in her late thirties or early forties at most. She remarked at how when she last saw me I was only yea high and now I was taller than she was. I must admit that she seemed much less authoritative now that I had to look down to talk to her. After getting reacquainted and answering a barrage of questions, I spent most of the day catching up with my friend John and goofing around with his model car collection. When evening came, John's Mother insisted that we shower so that we would be clean for the next day.

Well, that evening after we showered I put on pajamas and we went downstairs to watch some television. It felt just like when I used to go over to John's house when we were in elementary school; I lay on the floor next to my friend and reminisced to myself about a childhood that had passed. His mother and sister sat in chairs behind us. They had on nightgowns. I thought it was kind of odd that Mrs. Schmitt didn't have on a robe, but I figured that she was still pretty warm from the hot water of the shower. Both Mrs. Schmitt and her daughter Greta were a little overweight. Greta was apparently oblivious to the fact that she did not have any panties on under her nightgown because when I peeked backwards I could see the crack of her vulva when she moved the right way. She was too engrossed in watching the television to be too concerned about how her legs were positioned. I became too engrossed in thought about how her legs might be positioned to watch the television. I was worried not only that Greta might see me peeking but that her mother might notice and that she would scold me for my naughty behavior.

Greta was a little plump so her vulva was plump and puffy with a sweet looking crease running down the middle. There was a little tuft of hair on her mound but not enough to obscure any of the crack that separated her outer lips. I had hoped that she might accidentally spread her legs enough so that I could see some of the pink inside. As the show continued, I was glad that I was laying on my stomach because my young cock had hardened into a throbbing monster. It was hard not to reach down and touch myself or to rub against the floor with such a wonderful eyeful of plump bare pussy so near at hand.

During the course of the program, I can honestly say that I cannot recall what we were watching - I must have sneaked a dozen peeks at Greta's sweet mound. During the program, Mrs. Schmitt got up to get a drink. Mrs. Schmitt was a pleasingly plump young woman with the weight to support a set of breasts that must have easily been 40 DDs. You could from the way the light cotton fabric moved when she walked through the room that she wasn't wearing a bra as those giant boobs would swing free under her clothing. I was sure I saw shadows where her enormous areola showed through the thin fabric. While I enjoyed watching her breasts sway, I was relieved that she had gone, as it would make it easier to peek up into Greta's nightie. Also the fact that she was moving gave me legitimate cause to not have to pretend to be fixated on the television.

When Mrs. Schmitt returned to her seat, I noticed that Mrs. Schmitt had opened up her legs. I could barely understand a teenaged girl being unaware of my naughty eyes but I truly couldn't imagine that her mother would sit so carelessly with no panties to cover her pussy. I couldn't believe it. Mrs. Schmitt didn't squirm around nearly as much as Greta did so I got more than momentary glimpses. She had a very thick bush of dark hair around her pubic region. She too seemed completely engrossed in the television and not looking at me straining my eyes to the side in order that I get a glimpse of her through my slightly parted fingers. If I wasn't so afraid of getting caught and I could look straight on, I probably could have made out details of her plump hairy mound such as the extent of her crack and the swells of her inner lips. As it was I was just happy to be there and hoping that I'd have time before the end of the show to coax my swollen member down to normal size again. Part of me thinks that Mrs. Schmitt knew I was looking and secretly enjoyed it since she seemed to have positioned herself in such a way as to purposely allow me to ogle her sweet snatch. My heart was beating like a jackhammer as I was so excited to be looking at a real live pussy and yet scared shitless that I might get caught doing so. I was on the verge of being an independent adult but up until now such sights were definitely only to be had in my imagination or in a skin mag. I'd gotten from one of the city kids at school.

After that program and before going up to bed, I found it necessary to go into the bathroom and stroke my penis to release some of the semen that was dying to escape. I had recently gone through the requisite pubescent changes that made my testicles regularly fill with manjuice. A healthy crop of hair had sprouted at the base of my shaft and I imagined showing my thick swollen cock to Greta or Mrs. Schmitt. By this time, my cock was so hard it nearly hurt. I got a dollop of lotion from the counter and rubbed it all around my shaft and especially around my aching glans. I stood before the mirror reminiscing at the sights I had just seen and with my pajama bottoms at my ankles. I watched the reflection of my discharge in the mirror and imagined it was a naked woman rather than my reflection admiring my ejaculate as it burst out with great force. I was so worked up that my spunk shot big ropey globs and some even got onto the mirror above the sink.

Afterward I cleaned up the mess and I felt like such a bad, bad boy. Surely I would be punished if anyone knew what a shameful thing I had done in my friend's house; I definitely didn't want my friend to find out. But I also secretly thought about how Mrs. Schmitt would realize that I wasn't still that little elementary school boy that used to live down the street if she saw me. Now I had a cock that I was proud to say was pretty darn large. Surely if women got anywhere near as horny as an 18 year old boy, she would appreciate my turgid member and might even enjoy watching my spunk splash forth. The thought of her wanting to see me gave me an idea for the next day. Maybe somehow I could share the thrill of letting her see my private parts. Though it partly seemed crazy, I imagined that it was at least possible that she might have been turned on by my interest in admiring her womanhood. My friend asked if I was all right when I finally emerged from the bathroom; I sheepishly said I was fine. Quickly I had to switch back to reality and make plans for what we would do tomorrow with my friend. Later I mentioned to John that I had seen his sister's pussy - he seemed amused and said that if I enjoyed it there was no harm in it but that I had better be careful not to get into trouble. It took me quite some time to get to sleep thinking over and over about seeing a girl's pussy and a real live woman's hairy pussy - not a black and white pictures of worn out whores from a magazine but real live pussies from real women.

Throughout the next day I looked forward to having to take a shower - hoping that maybe afterwards I'd get another glimpse at glory. The day seemed to take forever to end and in the back of my mind I kept recalling the wonderful show I had enjoyed the night before. Could anything better than this possibly occur? I thought that if Greta had been so nonchalant about sitting around without panties, maybe she would let me have a better look. That day I got a little bit bolder and asked Greta if we could play the game we did when we were much younger - that if I showed her mine would she show me hers (I didn't have the guts to use the actual words for penis and vagina but she clearly got my meaning). She was fine with this so long as she got to see my cock and I had to go first - when we were younger this game often had some unfair turns where the boys got to see her pussy but then the boys refused to reciprocate. The rules of engagement for this game were that if I showed mine she would show hers and if I wanted to touch hers she would first be permitted to touch mine. The only problem was John; we had to think of a way to preoccupy John so that we could sneak away to play the game.

When Mrs. Schmitt called John to help peel potatoes for that night's dinner, I saw my opportunity. Greta and I looked at each other as we concurrently saw the opportunity to fulfill our plans. We went up to the cupola - a little tower type structure above the second floor that was only accessible from a narrow staircase. We had played board games up there before so no one thought anything was odd about our going up there. Of course Greta insisted that I go first. I said that we should both pull our pants down together but that I would pull my underwear down first. When she slipped her jeans down, I could see a little indentation in her panties were her lips formed; my penis was starting to grow a little. My heart was racing as I matched her action and also pulled my underwear down to the middle of my thighs. I hesitated to go further so that if John came up I could quickly enough pull myself back together. As I did this, Greta reached out and tweaked the end of my cock. I flinched and said, "hey you didn't even show yours yet that's not fair; now you have to let me touch yours". She giggled and tried to grab it again, she said, "what's the matter, don't you like having your penis tugged on?" I said, "Its not that, its just that fair is fair and now I need to see yours". She finally relented but said that she wanted to touch my thing again after she showed me hers. She carefully pulled her cotton panties down to her mid thigh which afforded me only a clear view of her pubic hair and her closed vulva. I noted the unfairness of this - that since my thing was all the way out she could see everything but I couldn't see anything. She said ok I could peek, but only for a second. She pulled her panties down to just below her knees and then pulled her lips apart for a split second with both hands.

My heart was still racing and I was nervous that at any second John would be coming up to ruin the game. I told her that I got to touch it now. She refused saying that her quick tweak didn't qualify as a real touch so until she got to really touch mine I couldn't touch hers. By this point I was dying and readily conceded to her demand; I was now fully erect and feeling not a little bit awkward about being in a fully windowed cupola with my pants down around my thighs. Greta pushed my underwear further down adding time it would take to yank my pants back up should John arrive. I suggested that she lock the door and that we could pretend that we had done so accidentally in case John came up unexpectedly. With that done, she came over and had me sit on the top step while she wrapped her hand around my shaft and pulled up and down; then she reached her other hand and rolled my balls around in her fingers - she wanted to know what they felt like. This was definitely feeling good, but I wanted to touch her before time was up. She was starting to get hot too so she was a little less hesitant now about letting me see her. She sat on the top step as I stood and then she slowly parted her legs, but her wetness was making her labia stick together. I reached below her mound and felt the bare softness of her youthful outer labia. She pulled back when I tried to slip my finger into her slit. I then frustratedly said that I didn't get much of a feel. I then offered that she could continuously play with my thing if I could do the same and that we would stop as soon as John called us for supper. She said, "what's the matter, Steven are you getting hot?" As she reached her hand around my dick and stared intently at the little hole at the end of it as she stroked away fascinated by the little glisten of fluid forming there, I took this as tacit agreement to go further.

As I stood between her legs I pushed her legs wider apart with my knees and dipped my index finger into her now sopping slit. This time she did not pull away but began to push towards me. She asked me if I had ever jacked off before. I told her that I might have, and added, "Why had you?" She gave a knowing look and said that she wanted to see if it really squirted and was it really white. Knowing that I had shot quite a gusher just the night before I thought the question a little humorous. I told her that if I came it would definitely squirt out. But if she wanted to see that she'd have to let me watch her get off. So I stepped back and she began sliding one and then two fingertips into her wet snatch and I began to pump my cock vigorously while pointing the tip in the direction of her crotch. Her eyes were riveted to my cock and mine were likewise riveted to her juicy snatch. She said that she didn't want to get pregnant so that when I was ready to cum that I should be careful not to get any on her pussy. At this point I just moaned assent as I began to feel my balls tightening and a wave of energy rising from my loins and into my cock. Then cum started to flow as blast after blast of cum shot out of my cock and onto her bare thighs. After her immediate bliss at seeing my sticky wad shooting out, she intensified her attention to herself and in a flurry of motion she rigorously worked at her clitoris after which she clenched her legs closed, closed her eyes and moaned deeply.

After this we quickly assessed the situation and realized that we had a mess to clean up and quick or we would be in serious trouble. She found some scorepads from a Yahtzee game that would make a makeshift cleaner for the cum now dripping onto the steps off of her thighs. We cleaned as best we could and hoped time would not run out and that the remaining stains would dry before anybody came back up here. We then quickly pulled our pants back up and went down to the bathroom to wash up and flush the score sheets- she definitely had to get the smell off of her hands before we went down to dinner.

When Greta and I got to the table, Mrs. Schmitt matter-of-factly asked what we had been doing. Greta quickly said playing Yahtzee and then Mrs. Schmitt asked who won to which Greta said, "Well I won one round and Steve won the other one". I was hoping and praying that she wasn't going to ask to see the score cards some of which we had used for a completely different purpose than to play Yahtzee. She seemed satisfied with this answer and we went on with the meal. Greta was a bit less talkative than usual at dinner and would not look at me; I didn't look up much either. John suggested that we play a board game later in the evening which seemed to break the silence that had crept in. At one point later in the meal I dropped my napkin; upon reaching down to retrieve it, I swore that Mrs. Schmitt's legs were spread beneath the table and that I had glimpsed uncovered pubic hair beneath her dress. For now I just cataloged this in my memory though I also thought it odd; especially odd that she should not close her legs if she knew that she wasn't wearing panties. Mrs. Schmitt said that we should go outside and enjoy the weather until dark and then come in shower and then we could play a game as John had suggested.

After we showered, I dried off and put on pajamas. I decided not to wear any underwear under mine tonight since this seemed to be a household trend. As I went downstairs Mrs. Schmitt yelled out, "Don't look", but her yell startled me so that I did look. She, having just showered herself, streaked across the landing at the top of the stairs towards her bedroom. I couldn't help but notice her large breasts now fully bare with well-defined areolas and pointy nipples. I also saw what looked like a forest of hair in her pubic region. I looked away quickly, thinking that I had intruded upon her privacy. But when I thought about it further upon reflection however, I realized that her bathroom was attached to her bedroom so there was no legitimate reason for her to have been in the hallway. I felt a tingle in my scrotum as I felt my sac tighten and the blood rush into my cock. I realized that Mrs. Schmitt must have enjoyed being ogled and yet could not let on that she enjoyed it or even that she was intentionally baring herself. What would my mother think if she found out - that would never do. When Mrs. Schmitt came downstairs she acted like nothing had happened; she was wearing the same almost sheer nightgown as last night with a light robe and slippers.

We reassembled at the kitchen table with popcorn and the Milton Bradley game of Life. I was feeling anxious as the game got started. By this time, I figured that neither Mrs. Schmitt nor Greta were probably wearing any panties, but it was going to be much more difficult to find out for sure. I could hardly just crawl under the table and gawk. In my mind, I kept thinking of how I could be subtle about it and still get another peak. Surely Greta would be on to the fact that I was interested in looking after our secret game before dinner this afternoon. Mrs. Schmitt probably wouldn't have run naked through the hall if she didn't think I was interested and enjoy my interest.

We all got started playing and eventually would become engrossed in the game. As the game progressed, it came time for me to get married and that required me to add a little peg to my car game piece to represent my wife. Mrs. Schmitt flicked a peg in my general direction, which skidded past the edge of the table and onto the floor. I think she actually wanted me to go under the table. At the very least I would be expected to stoop down and pick up the peg; I guessed I could tell if all of this flashing was my imagination or if it was intentional when I stooped down. Though I could probably have retrieved the peg by just leaning over, I quickly slid my chair to one side and squatted down to pick it up which brought my eyes below the table surface. I was not disappointed. For the brief second that I was under the table I had no risk of accidental eye contact. Mrs. Schmitt had her legs spread at nearly a 45 degree angle. I could see a glimpse of the pink of her inner lips through her thick thatch of black pubic hair. This was incredible. As I sat up, it was all I could do to keep my cool and put the peg into the car. I didn't look up until it was John's turn to move; when I finally dared glimpse towards Mrs. Schmitt she gave me a very coy and knowing look. This was really getting exciting; I was having great difficulty concentrating and had to be prodded to take my next turn.

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