The Accidental Voyeurist

The other car's tinted window opened, and a light came on. Illuminated within, sitting side by side, were a familiar woman and her familiar dark-haired husband.

Panic gave way to simple resignation. You might have expected "confusion" or "disorientation," but no, the face she saw made perfect sense. The "chance" meeting in the store resolved itself in a new, stark clarity. It wasn't a friend's recommendation that brought her in that day. It wasn't luck. Someone had placed their thumb on the scales of fate. It all made perfect sense.

They knew.

The woman gestured to her to lower her window. She complied. "It's so cold and lonely out here. Would you like to come with us?"

She nodded. What point was there to resist? She was their captive. How could she turn down the chance to be on the other side of the glass? She would follow this night to its logical conclusion, wherever it might lead.

Without a word, she closed her window, opened the door, got out, and obediently slid across the black leather of their back seat. They drove the very short distance to their house in silence. Headlights shone on the alternating panels of brushed metal and frosted glass panels of the garage door as it slid smoothly open; the car rolled forward and came to a stop with a soft jolt; the car doors opened, and as the garage door sealed them in, three bodies piled out; and there she was in that dress -- that same enviable dress she had sold her that day, clinging to her, hugging her breasts, showing off their round contours and the slight protrusion of her nipples, enhancing every soft ripple in her body as she moved to the door, up the stairway, until they were all in the entryway, where they paused.

He put his hands together like an earnest host. "Can I fix you a drink?"

She nodded. "Cher, why don't you show our guest to the living room, and I'll be right behind you."

She guided her down the hall and into the center of the living room. Her eyes roamed the room as they stood patiently, quietly waiting. Her gaze wandered over the couch, the ottoman at her feet, and the wall of a TV it sat in front of. "It's all leased," the woman helpfully explained. Soon, he re-appeared with an Orrefors brimming with an Old Fashioned and a cocktail napkin to set it upon. She took it from him and after one massive swallow, returned it to him just as quickly, drained.

"Well now." He raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips in a silent whistle as he gave a nod, suitably impressed. He took the glass back from her and placed it on the nearest piece of furniture. His wife moved to the couch. She sank into it, reclining almost regally against its cushions.

"I hope you'll forgive my curiosity, but how long have you been watching us?"

Since the fourth Wednesday of November last year.

"How long is that -- three months, minus a week? We only caught on a couple of weeks ago. You must really like watching us." He said it with an empathetic matter-of-factness --no cocky smile, no boasting lilt, no implication there was anything wrong or even unusual about watching, just a simple acknowledgment of how she must have felt (and in fact did feel -- she did like watching them). It was the most reassuring thing anyone had ever said to her, her shame vaporized with a single sentence.

She looked towards the floor and nodded.

"We're glad. We like being watched." He gave her a gentle smile. "Here, have a seat."

He gestured with a sweep of his hand towards the surface of the ottoman. She sat and rested her hands in her lap.

He turned away and picked up a remote. The TV came on. He opened a drawer and removed a disk, which he held by its edges as he pressed a button on the box beneath the TV. A tray slid open, the disk was dropped into the circular depression, and the tray slid shut again. Another button on the remote was pushed.

As he turned back to her, the screen behind him filled with a sight true to life in the immaculately clear resolution of tens of millions of pixels: their bedroom and the two of them in it. She was lying on the bed in nothing but a pair of panties, her legs dangling over the edge, and he was crouched before her, naked, hands poised to remove her last item of clothing.

"We like to watch us, too," he explained and set the control down next to her as he walked around her to sit next to his wife, his hand coming to rest on the silky thin fabric covering her thigh.

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She could pick up the remote, if she wanted to, and bring the show to an end just as soon as it starts; but no, she sits transfixed, her eyes intent on the screen, never moving, scarcely blinking, watching him tease her body with delicate little kisses on her stomach, on the insides of her thighs, on the petite cleft of her pussy, as he makes a slow striptease of her underwear. And when the panties -- the same pair she wore in the dressing room -- are removed, she watches him bury his head between her legs, wrap his lips around hers, and sink his tongue into her pussy.

She sits still, hands still folded timidly in her lap. Outwardly, she doesn't seem to react at all, but inside, her body has already come alive. A familiar warmth began in the pit of her stomach as soon as he pressed play, the way it always does when she watches them. And she is watching them while they sit behind her. She can feel their stare. The restless swelling between her legs grows stronger when she hears them on the video, hears the woman's moans as she drapes her hands on his head and, through the distracted movements of her fingers, transmits back to him her body's every response to the movement of his tongue.

Behind her on the couch, they feel the same stirring she does. They sense her arousal in her quiet, intent concentration. The wife moves closer to him and places her hand on his leg. It is exhilarating, this, having her here, observing her admiration of them. He in turn needs to feel her. He hikes the fabric of her dress up the creamy surface of her thigh until the crotch of her panties is exposed. He presses his finger gently between her lips through the scant lace. Her hand wanders up his leg and drapes over the bulge that arose as soon as he sat down and took one look at his naked wife on the screen and the person sitting watching it and thought about the feel of her under his tongue that night.

In the video, going down on her stokes a greater hunger. She gasps in dismay as he stands up, but he does not leave her wanting for long. She looks up to see him thrust his dick where his tongue had just been in one fluid, greedy motion. He buries himself in her, his hands on her hips. From the ecstatic gasp on the screen, Sarah can tell how it must have felt: intense, almost painful.

The woman tosses her head back and breathes deeply as she tries to relax around him. He pulls slowly out until just the tip of his dick rests inside her. Her eyes re-opens and she lifts her head. She had to see it: his thick cock between her legs, glistening wet, spreading her lips apart.

The two of them disengage and get all the way onto the bed. The woman is on her hands and knees. He's kneeling behind her. The gap between their bodies is perfectly in line with the angle of the camera, which captures his cock, his hand wrapped around it pointing straight towards the center of her body. He inches forward until its head rests just between her lips. As she feels the ridge of his cock slip just inside her, she rocks back, wrapping herself around him and slowly sliding down his shaft until her ass is pressed up against him. She rolls her hips so she can feel his dick against the inside of her pussy. The feel of her soft body rubbing the entire surface of his dick makes him moan. She slides slowly forward, and the camera records the glistening surface of his cock re-emerge for their audience of one.

He pulls her hips all the way to him and then all the way back up the length of his erection again and again. She moans every time his hips slam against her and his dick slides as far as it can go inside her.

The woman on the screen rises from her elbows and reaches back to push him away from her with a hand to the chest until he is flat on his back, his feet towards the camera, his cock curving away against his stomach. She quickly straddles him and reaches down between her legs to point his dick straight up towards her. Sarah suffers a twinge as she sees its full length again between her legs. The woman backs up onto his cock, her lips spreading over it. She slides back up it, slowly, and Sarah feels a second, stronger twinge as she watches her lips trail along its shiny wet surface until she has left only the tip just inside her. It looks so large in relation to her body, and she imagines how it must make her feel so full p each time her hips curve their way back down it until her back flattens to press as much of him as she can inside her. She rides him over and over, feeling him with her pussy, enjoying his full length, her pace sometimes quickening, then slowing, but never stopping. His hands are wrapped around her wrists where they brace against his chest, his eyes locked on her face. She grinds away, intent on bringing herself to orgasm. Her moans grow stronger and stronger until her head rolls back, she sits down on his dick and gasps. At the very same instant, he grunts, and Sarah sees her lips contract around the base of his cock. His root flexes as the rest of him throbs inside her.

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As Sarah had watched, she was joined on her perch. They had watched her every move. As still as she sat, they had noticed the slight shift that betrayed the moment she became engorged. She had shifted slightly in her seat when he went from eating her out to fucking her in that single masterful move. His obvious hunger, the sound of the moans that followed, and the sight of his hands on her breasts as he stood beside the bed and thrust all the way inside her over and over were tortuously sexy.

She didn't notice when one of them joined her. Time had fallen away. She was alone in the room, oblivious to what her companions might be doing. Her mind was trapped somewhere between the scene unfolding in front of her and the lust that extended from between her legs into the very air around her.

Into the fringes of that desire, one of her two hosts had entered, climbing onto the ottoman and sitting down behind her. She didn't try to figure out whose naked limbs now flanked her legs or whose arms massaged her shoulders before sliding around her sides and coming to rest at her waist. She was just grateful to be touched. She didn't object when one of those hands snuck inside her running tights, beneath her panties, and descended to the spot between her legs where the questing fingers found her already impossibly wet.

Her companion simply held her in their hand, cradling her pussy and gently squeezing their hand to it -- their palm flat against her mound, their fingers pressed along the entire length of her slit -- as they rested their chin on her shoulder so that they might keep watching along with her.

Sarah had shifted in her seat a second time as she was watching him take her from behind. Seeing his dick slowly re-emerge glistening wet brought the swelling between her legs to an insistent ache. As she settled back down, her companion on the ottoman slid their hand out from between her legs and lifted her shirt -- the same skin-tight hoody they'd first seen her in -- with both hands. Sarah continued staring straight ahead as she meekly raised her arms so the shirt could be removed. The other person undid her bra and slid it forward over her arms. Sarah's hands returned to her lap as her host pressed up against her naked back, held her breast in their left hand, and returned their right hand to the feel of her soft, wet pussy. Under the black stretchy fabric of her tights, that hand undulated, caressing her softly, gently so as not to distract from the continuation of the video.

The video was almost over now. The woman collapsed onto his chest, and his arms wrapped around her. They remained in each other's embrace for a long time before she finally got up and he followed. Shortly after, the screen went black.

Sarah's eyes darted around as if freed from a hypnotism. She turned her neck back to see who her companion had been. Her lips were met by the other woman's.

When she had seen Sarah's first restless fidget, she had leaned forward and turned her back to her husband, sweeping her hair up off her neck. His hand had moved from between her legs to the zipper, which he slid all the way open. She had stood and shrugged the dress off, leaving her only in the thong she wore in the video. It fell at her feet, and it was she who had joined their guest on the ottoman.

She was fascinated by Sarah's fascination. She wanted to see through her eyes, she wanted to feel her excitement.

He had remained on the couch the whole time. A lesser man would have had his pants down to his knees and his dick in his hand just at the sight of the two of them intertwined in each other's arms. He endured his arousal and enjoyed the excitement for its own sake, until now, when he quietly stripped off his clothes and moved to join them.

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The woman on the ottoman is the echo of their gorgeous passion. She is drawn to the reflection of them in her. She leans further forward to kiss her more fervently, her left hand running through her hair and her right hand still squeezed between her legs. Their lips spread apart, and their tongues meet in a kiss softer and sweeter than any Sarah has ever felt. As the kiss stretches on, she feels the woman snake her right hand away from Sarah's lap and up to the side of Sarah's head. When she pulls her lips away, her hands turn Sarah to face forward.

He is standing right in front of her. He is naked and hard, his impossibly large dick right at eye level, filling the field of her vision. She wants to see her enjoy that dick, his dick, her dick.

Her eyes travel its length. She traces every vein that raises the smooth purple surface of his skin, from its root up the bulging shaft, following it to the ridge swooping forward and up, around his bulbous head. She reaches up and holds it between her palms, one of which quickly forms a fist that wraps as far around the base as it can as her head leans forward. She spreads her lips around its swollen head. This -- this would somehow be inside her, she hopes. For now, she merely runs her tongue over its tip in adoration as the woman caresses her breasts from behind and kisses the nape of her neck with her soft breasts pressed up against her back.

He looks down to watch her and rests his hand lightly on the back of her head. She looks up. The sight of her eyes gazing lasciviously up at him and her lips wrapped around his dick provoke a powerful desire to kiss her. He reaches out for her other hand, the one pressed flat alongside his dick and pulls her to her feet.

She feels the other woman's hands caress her back until they travel down to her waist, where they tug her running tights and panties down to the floor. She stands beside them, a hand on each of their backs. She presses their naked bodies together. She watches their faces intently as her hands wander over each of their backs. They remain locked in this threeway embrace, until the woman led them to the couch.

The wife is giving instructions. This is her show. She kneels in the corner of the couch and pats the skin of her thighs. To Sarah: "Lay down and rest your head here."

To Piers, once the two women are on the couch: "Spread her legs."

He gently pulls her legs apart. Her right leg drapes over the edge of the couch toward the floor. Sarah watches him, nervously awaiting the next command.

"Kneel between her legs." He does, his eyes wandering over the shock of light-colored hair covering her mound and the small space where her lips are spread a little apart.

"Eat her pussy."

He wavers. He is about to touch another woman's pussy in front of her, about to sink his tongue into her as his wife watches. Sarah waits in trepidation for the moment his head will descend between her legs. The other woman's hands rest comfortingly on her shoulders.

She senses his hesitation. "Do it. I want to see it."

He leans forward. He kisses the outside of her lip gently, and she feels his tongue flick just inside it. He teases her with his tongue all the way to the hood of her clit, at which point he can't hold himself back anymore. His lips wrap around her and his tongue plunges into the cleft of her pussy.

Sarah's eyes close as his tongue smothers her clit. The other woman teases the hair near her temples affectionately. Her stomach tenses; she moans. The other woman reaches down and grabs her breasts. Sarah covers her hands with her own. She feels Sarah's hands press firmly whenever her stomach tenses as his tongue darts inside her once more.

The other woman watches her face. The flutter of her eyelids, the curl of her lips. To the feel of his tongue, her stomach tenses and releases, her back arches and collapses back to the cushions. The longer this goes on, the more she hungers to join them. She slides Sarah's head to the couch as she slips out from under her. She kneels next to her husband, and as his tongue continues to bring Sarah to a state of more and more intense arousal, she reaches down beneath him to wrap her fingers around his cock. When her grip envelopes him, Sarah feels his moan through her pussy. The other woman continues to watch him work away at her pussy. She even rests her hand on the back of his head as if guiding him, her fingers becoming entangled in Sarah's when she drapes them in his hair.

She is getting closer and closer. The woman can tell. Her hips rise up off the couch for the longest time. Short, sharp gasps escape her lips. Before he can make Sarah come, she pulls his head away.

Sarah's eyes open. "I have something else in mind," the wife tells her. "Stand up."

To her husband, "Lay down on the couch." He does, as she continues to kneel next to the couch.

To Sarah again: "Straddle him."

Sarah spreads her thighs over his body. The wife reaches over and lifts his cock to guide it between her legs. She pulls on Sarah's hip to coax her towards him. Sarah relaxes her legs, until she feels the smooth dome of the tip of his cock resting in the opening of her pussy. She eases down a little further, until she feels it sliding inside her. She places her palms flat on his chest and takes a deep breath as she slowly takes him in, inch by inch until he is all the way inside her. He feels every bit as large -- and having him inside her makes her feel every bit as full -- as she had come to expect from watching the two of them.

The wife watches his cock disappear inside her. She watches Sarah repeat her movements from the video, rolling her hips up and down the entire surface of his manhood, which emerges slick and wet. It brings her the same uncomfortable ache it brought Sarah. She stands up. He lifts his head and looks at her as she strips off her thong and stands naked for a brief second until she pushes his head back to the couch and straddles his face. She craves relief from this swelling that has gone on for so long. She grips his head in both her hands and pulls his tongue into her.

She closes her eyes. Let it come. Let the feeling build. Her hearing is filled with the sounds of Sarah moaning as she continues to experience all of him, her breathing getting quicker and quicker. Beneath her, he moans into her, his senses nearly overwhelmed by the smell of her and the feel of his dick softly ensconced insider their guest star.

He can feel her pussy squeezing, then opening as wide as it can until it is trembling along the sides of his dick. She slides slowly back up and then sits all the way down on him. She lets out a gasp, and her pussy throbs. He groans, as the feel of her causes his cock to swell and throb for the longest second. Then he loses himself. Sarah feels him explode inside her in time to another squeeze of her pussy. As he comes, his hands reach out for his wife's hips and he pulls her to his face as his tongue runs over her clit once more to the sound of her moan and the tightening of her grip that tells him: she is coming, too.