Who's Watching Who?bymidwestgent©
Sometimes things happen in life that cause you to really stop and question whether or not it was pure chance that you were in the right place at the right time, or whether destiny brought you to that particular situation. Although I have never been a strong believer that every step along life's path has been pre-planned, I have always held the belief that destiny plays some role in many of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs along the way.
My latest brush with destiny began about a month ago and would probably have never occurred if it were not for what my ex wife so affectionately referred to as my anal retentiveness. "Neat freak" was the other term she sometimes used. I tend to think she was exaggerating a little, but then again, the reason she is my ex is because we didn't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things.
Although I am not obsessive about it, I do believe in the motto, "A place for everything, and everything in its place." Given that I routinely follow that advice, I was a little surprised to come home from work and discover one of the lounge chairs beside my pool was out of place. OK, maybe I am anal retentive. Three lounge chairs angled along the pool deck on each side of the pool with a small drink table shared between every two chairs. Damn it! I hate it when my ex wife is right.
I felt a little bit like Papa Bear in The Three Bears fable. "Somebody's been sleeping in my pool chair." Maybe I was overreacting. I was out at the pool over the weekend, maybe I just didn't get the chairs put back in the right place. Nothing to lose sleep over, that's for certain.
Having quickly dismissed the observation as nothing more than sloppy housekeeping on my part, I decided to continue on with what had brought me to the pool in the first place, my nightly after work dip in the tranquility of my secluded back yard oasis.
On this particular evening, I had opted to take advantage of the privacy offered by the shrubbery that completely surrounds the pool area and make this my private "clothing optional" beach. Ok, truth be told, I was a little behind on laundry and didn't have a dry swim suit in the drawer. Now that is not the profile of a neat freak, is it? Maybe there is hope for me after all, Dr. Freud.
The pool area pretty much covers my whole backyard. As you walk out the patio door of my house, the back yard is enclosed in a seven foot tall iron fence, a requirement of the local zoning commission for pool owners. The previous owners of the house had obviously liked their privacy and had planted some sort of ivy around the fence. I'm not much of a horticulturist, so I have know idea what it is, but it is certainly thick and dense and provides a 100% privacy from everything except satellites and low flying aircraft.
Inside the fence is a nicely landscaped pool area, a hot tub large enough for a party of eight, a nice size pool house for changing and storing liquid refreshments, and about thirty feet of grass on each side of the pool. The perfect scene for unwinding alone on a hot summer evening, or hosting a pool party, which I seemed to be doing a lot more of lately.
Shedding my towel, I jumped head first into the deep end and started swimming my daily twenty laps. I had swam competitively in high school and college, and although I don't swim competitively any more, I still find it a great way to stay in shape. In high school, twenty laps in the Olympic size pool was nothing. In college, twenty laps twice a day was just a warm up. At the age of thirty-eight, twenty laps in my much smaller forty foot long back yard pool was enough to make me hope and pray my ticker wouldn't give out before I reached the shallow end on my last lap.
Climbing out of the pool, I wrapped a towel around my naked body and plopped down in a lounge chair to let the warm evening breeze dry me off. As I sat there drying and just relaxing, I could not get that misplaced lounge chair out of my mind. Could it have simply been my overactive imagination? Maybe the pool guy had come and cleaned the pool, even though he almost always did that on Fridays.
The more likely answer to my self created mystery, if it really was anything more than just my imagination, was that some of the neighbor boys had scaled the fence while their parents were at work and decided to take a dip in the pool. Having once been a fifteen year old boy myself, it wasn't much of a stretch to think this could actually happen. I didn't really mind the neighborhood kids swimming in my pool, except for the fact that in this day and age, when kids get hurt in swimming pools, there is usually a lawyer chomping at the bit to sue, even if the kid climbed a fence, hot wired the automatic cover, and blatantly ignored the "do not trespass" signs posted on the fence.
The longer I sat there drying off and thinking, the more my mind conjured up worst case scenarios. I've always had a bit of a paranoid streak in me, so the longer I thought about it, the more I was convinced this was a disaster waiting to happen. All because of a slightly misplaced lounge chair. Maybe I should have heeded the divorce Judge's advice when he suggested I might want to consider therapy to take the edge off my neatness compulsion.
Convinced someone had broken into my backyard and convinced there was looming danger if I ignored it, I decided to do a little detective work and solve this mystery, or at least determine if there was even a mystery to solve. All I needed was a video camera and a motion detector like the ones used on those motion sensitive flood lights to rig up a surveillance camera. Simple, right? OK, maybe it wasn't so easy. After several failed attempts to figure out how to use the motion detector to actually start the video camera, I gave up and opted for Plan "B".
Plan "B" was a cheap black and white webcam connected to my computer and set to start recording at ten o'clock in the morning and turn off at four in the afternoon. The problem with the webcam was that the resolution would be too poor to actually tell who the culprit was, but I could at least confirm whether or not there was anything more to this mystery than just my overactive imagination.
The camera was easy to mount in the pool house in a location where it caught most of the pool area within its watchful eye. Excluding climbing the fence, there are only two ways into the pool area. One entrance is via the house itself, the other is via a locked gate along the side of the fence about ten feet away from the house entrance. I was able to angle the camera in a way that I could see both entrances as well as about eighty percent of the pool area. Set to begin recording the following day, all I had to do now was to wait.
Patience may be a virtue, but it's not one of mine. The next day seemed like the longest day of my life. I couldn't wait to get home to check the webcam feed to see if I had caught anything on the camera, or more appropriately, caught "anyone" on the camera. I thought five o'clock would never get there, but it eventually did and I raced home and headed for the pool house to see if my ghost intruder had made a repeat performance.
One of the beauties of the webcam, in addition to being easy to install, was that I could fast forward through the recording and quickly review several hours of footage. If there was no intruder, the picture from the cam would be constant. If there was someone there, even in fast forward I would be able to easily see the change in image.
It took several minutes to load the file. It was almost 30MB of data, but once I got it loaded, the scan went pretty fast. I couldn't believe my eyes. Three hours into the footage, that would have made it about one o'clock in the afternoon, I saw a fast moving object scampering around the pool area. My heart was racing with anticipation as I stopped the media player, backed it up to where the new object entered the scene, and hit the play button to play it in normal speed.
The video was pretty lousy from the webcam, but I could see enough to tell that it was one person. The intruder had long straight hair, presumably female but that was about all the resolution of the camera would allow. She, or possible a long haired he, had entered through the locked gate. That was interesting, somebody obviously had a key.
As I watched more of the feed, it became clearer that the intruder was definitely female. She seemed to make herself right at home. She had brought a bag with a towel and all of the necessities for a day at the pool. She quickly kicked off what must have been a pair of flip flops, then proceeded to strip out of her tee shirt and shorts. Was she naked or just wearing a neutral colored swim suit? Damn it. Now I was wishing I had tried a little harder to figure out how to install that high resolution video camera.
She was naked, I was almost certain. As she walked toward the pool house to open the pool cover, she walked closer to the webcam. The resolution was still too poor to see much detail, but there was no doubt now that my unannounced guest was female, and a pretty well proportioned female at that. I still had no idea who she was.
For the next two hours I watched the video feed like a teenage boy watching his first porno flick. I guess I kept hoping the resolution would suddenly improve, but it never did. Two hours later when she packed her stuff back up and headed for the gate, I had no more of a clue who she was than I did after the first two minutes of the video. One thing I did know though was that I had a raging hard on from watching that video, knowing that she was naked and watching with great anticipation in hopes that I would get a clearer shot. Anticipation truly is a great aphrodisiac!
I had to find a way to get a better view tomorrow. The webcam had served its purpose of confirming that the moved chair was not just a figment of my imagination, but now I had to know more. I had to figure out a way to rig up the video camera and get a close up picture, but before I could concentrate on that task, I had to relieve myself of the tension in my balls from the last two hours of constant erection.
As I walked from the pool house back to the house to take care of the unyielding pressure in my pants, I realized I was still wearing my work clothes. I had rushed straight home and headed out to check the cam feed before I even bothered to change clothes. Now it was time to change clothes, and use the opportunity to release some pent up tension.
Jacking off is something I do fairly frequently, and I usually enjoy resisting the urge to cum quickly so that I can prolong the pleasure for as long as possible. I like to convince myself this is good stamina training and I'm doing it for the pleasure of my future sex partners, but the truth is that I just like the feeling of making the pleasure for myself last until I can't hold it back any longer and then exploding in an uncontrolled burst of orgasm.
Watching that video for nearly two hours, with my eyes glued to the screen in anticipation of grabbing a better glimpse of my unclothed trespasser had left my balls primed and ready to explode. The pre cum was already oozing from the tip of my rock hard cock when I grabbed hold for the first stroke. It couldn't have been more than twenty strokes later that my balls let go and a blast of cum went hurling into the air. Shit. I hadn't cum that hard or that quickly in a long, long time and the only woman involved was a fuzzy image on a piss poor quality webcam.
"Damn," I thought to myself, as I headed for the shower to wash off the cum that was splattered from my chest to my now softening cock. "What if it turns out this chick is fifteen or something? I might have just jacked off to the image of jail bait. Or what if she's seventy and I just jacked off to the indistinguishable image of Grandma Jones -- yikes!"
I needed better video and I spent the rest of the evening getting it ready. I never did figure out how to rig up the motion detector, but I had about four hours of recording time on my video recorder, so I figured I could catch at least part of the show if my mystery guest made a repeat performance tomorrow. Instead of putting the camera in the pool house, this time I hid it in the vines of the fence and pointed it directly at the lounge chair she had used the previous two days. I decided this was my best opportunity at getting a close up frontal shot to see if I could recognize the mysterious intruder.
The following day was brutal. Not only did I have to wait until after work to rush home to see if I had new spy information recorded on my camera, I had to wait until nearly nine o'clock due to an after work dinner meeting that I had forgotten about. Needless to say, my mind was drifting quite a bit during the dinner conversation in anticipation of getting home to see if the camera had caught any new images.
Just like clock work, at a little past one o'clock, the camera had caught my mystery guest settling in for her daily dose of sunshine. The first thing she did was to move the lounge chair to face the sun. Damn, I hadn't anticipated that when I adjusted the position and the zoom of the camera on where I thought her head would be when she settled into the chair. The zoom was set close enough that I only caught pieces of her as she disrobed and applied sun tan lotion. I saw arms coming in and out of the picture, legs coming in and out of the picture and occasionally a teasing breast shot, but not even a glimpse of her face.
I got the brilliant idea to take the camcorder in the house and hook it up to the big screen TV. Maybe I could see more details on the Hi-Def big screen TV than on the two inch monitor of the camera. So much for brilliant ideas; the picture was certainly bigger, but the body parts were still the same. I was just about to give up and resolve myself to needing a third attempt tomorrow when I got a lucky break. The sun must have moved enough that she decided to move the chair again.
As my mystery lady got up to reposition the chair, I got a great shot of her perfectly toned ass. Damn, this was definitely not the ass of a seventy year old that I feared I might have been jacking off to just twenty-four hours earlier. As she got the chair repositioned, she sat down and started to reapply sun tan lotion. The camera angle was perfect. There it was in fifty-four inch Hi-Def, a perfect head shot that truncated about two inches below an incredible set of 34C tits.
Jamie, Judy, Julie, what the hell was her name? Julian. That was her name, Julian.
She was the daughter of my next door neighbors. She had been in college since I had moved in about three years ago but I had seen her occasionally on summer break and she had been over a couple of times with her parents for the annual neighborhood cookout/pool party that I held every Memorial Day. From my last conversation with her parents, I recalled that she was finishing up Medical School and was planning to live at home for a few months while doing her residency at the local hospital.
I damn near creamed my shorts as I watched her rub lotion on those gorgeous tits. I didn't even realize it but at some point during my viewing I had unconsciously unzipped my pants and started slowly stroking my cock. As she rubbed the suntan lotion into her skin with slow circular motions, my own hand matched her pace as it stroked my increasingly hardening cock.
After she finished rubbing lotion onto her left breast, Julian squirted a blob of lotion onto her right breast to repeat her work. The sight of the white lotion drizzling down her breast while she recapped the bottle sent my mind into overdrive as I fantasized about that white lotion being cum instead of suntan lotion. That was more than this old boy could take and my cock spewed with an unexpected eruption of hot lava.
Shit! In the voyeuristic trance that had kept my eyes glued to the video, I had lost all sense of the realization that I was still wearing my work clothes. I had just shot three exceptionally large bursts of sperm filled semen onto a pair of $300 dress pants. That should raise some interesting questions at the dry cleaners! Images of Bill Clinton and Monika Lewinski flashed through my head as I tried unsuccessfully to wipe the sticky cum from the fabric.
As turned on as I was and as erotic as this all seemed, something just didn't feel right. I'm not a Peeping Tom or a voyeur; at least I didn't think I was. Video taping my neighbor's daughter as she sunbathed naked just didn't feel right, even if it was in my own back yard. Of course I didn't come to this guilty conclusion until I had finished watching the remainder of the video -- twice!
"What's next," I thought, as I lay in bed reflecting over the past two days activities. I could film more, but that didn't seem right. I could just ignore the whole thing, after all, I had confirmed that it was not a bunch of high school boys that might hurt themselves resulting in me ending up on the wrong end of a law suit. The only liability here might be if the high school boys found out Julian was sunbathing stark naked in my backyard and they fell out of a tree and broke an arm while they were trying to sneak a peak of this young beauty. If that happened, it would be somebody else's tree and somebody else's liability.
Why not simply confront her, I finally decided. I might as well let her know it is fine with me if she wants to use the pool this summer, and also fine with me if she wants to declare it clothing optional. She's probably nervous thinking she will be in trouble if she gets caught, so why not ease her mind and let her know it's OK?
Luckily for me, the following day was a light one on my calendar and I was able to clear my schedule after ten o'clock. I didn't want Julian to see my car parked in the driveway or see me pull into the garage out of fear that she might not come over if she thought I was home. I parked down the street a couple of blocks and walked the rest of the way home. My plan was to wait until she showed up for her daily ritual and confront her as soon as she came through the gate. Unfortunately, planning has never been my best strength.
At ten past one, my cell phone rang as I was sitting perched beside the window waiting to see if Julian would arrive again today. Shit, it was my boss Larry. This was the one caveat of me leaving early. There was a one o'clock conference call that I was supposed to be on but I really didn't think they should need me. I told Larry they could call my cell phone if they really needed me. Apparently they felt the need to call.
There was a particular slide in the presentation that Larry wanted me to comment on. To do that I needed to go to the basement where my office was located and log onto my computer where they had emailed me the presentation. Thirty minutes later, the conference call ended and I ran back upstairs to see if my guest had arrived.
Good news, bad news, I thought as I peered out the window and saw Julian relaxing in her usual spot. The good news is she is here, so I can talk to her. The bad news is that she is already stripped down to her birthday suit so this is probably going to be really embarrassing for her. How do you casually walk up to a naked lady sunbathing in your back yard and say, "Hey Julian, how's it going?"
I decided the easiest way was to make it appear that I was just going for a swim. I donned a pair of swimming trunks and headed for the pool. That poor planning thing came into play once again as it never occurred to me that I might want to wear a jock strap beneath my trunks just in case the up close and personal confrontation with Julian might illicit an arousing response from a certain part of my anatomy. With only one sheer piece of fabric between me and a potentially embarrassing situation, I headed toward my guest.