In this age of sexual equality women are taking over the male role more and more. Want ads in newspapers no longer separate job offers by sex so that a woman can apply for any position a man can. In a large number of homes the male-female roles have been reversed where jobless men take care of the children while their wives work. All over the country women are finding a new aggressiveness and freedom. However, as every rose has a thorn, the new sexual freedom that women are enjoying today has brought with it new problems. One of them is that women are now getting into sexual difficulties that used to be the sole problem of men. The following autobiography is an example since it deals with a recent phenomena . . .female voyeurism.
Historically, Peeping Tom was a man. He was the one who dared gaze at Lady Godiva as she went through the town naked to protest a tax increase. While male curiosity about the female anatomy is considered normal a woman with the same interest in a male body is viewed with alarm. For century's women have been brought up with the belief that no "nice" girl would want to gaze upon male genitals. Times, however, are swiftly changing. The popularity of the Nude Theatre which exposes completely naked men as well as women to mixed audiences has shown that females ARE just as interested in seeing male nudity as men are seeing female nudity. OH, CALCUTTA, the nude show that has five men and five women in the cast constantly draws respectable matrons who sit in the front rows arms with binoculars. Jokes have always been told about bald-headed men who sit in the front row of burlesque houses but now the same gags can be told about the gray-haired dowagers that attend theatrical performances where male nudity abounds.
As a psychologist interested in human sexual behavior and its ever-changing patterns I have become aware of an alarming increase in female voyeurism. A number of these female Peeping Toms have already come to me for treatment in an effort to control their strange compulsions. One of my patients was a middle-aged housewife who was caught by the police wandering around the locker room of an athletic club while intoxicated. Although she convinced the police that alcohol had clouded her senses so that she didn't know where she was the woman confessed to me that she had gone into that male preserve out of a desperate need to see naked men. Since suburban matrons are not known to be voyeurs the police immediately accepted her excuse and allowed her to return home. If a middle-aged man had wandered into a woman's locker room he would have been booked as a Peeping Tom.
Lorna Dixon, the woman who wrote this book, was another of my patients. She is a very attractive housewife of twenty-eight who came to me seeking help about her voyeuristic compulsions. After months of treatment during which the young woman was able to control her unusual drives she decided to write her story both as a form of therapy and a wish to save some other woman from the grief she's suffered. Lorna feels that, if only one woman reads this story and is encouraged to seek psychiatric help because of it, her efforts would not have been wasted. Therefore, to this woman and the rest of the public, allow me to present the remarkable confessions of a female voyeur.
-Charles K. Webster, Ph.D.
CHAPTER ONE
Let me begin by saying that I am not a writer. I am just a woman who feels she has a story to tell. Great books, I understand, are often born in the personal agonies of the authors. While this may not be a great book the great agony that forced it into being is still there.
I was born on a farm in Kansas which is about as All-American as a girl can get, I suppose. Three brothers had been born before me and I was destined to be the only girl (outside my mother, of course) in the family.
My father was a big, raw-boned man and my mother looked like a frail bird next to him. From the very beginning I knew that my father was the boss of the house which is the way it is supposed to be. I've seen too many marriages and homes ruined when the wives took over. But, in the rural district of Kansas, men were men and there was no such thing as a henpecked husband.
The farm was a fairly large one and my father had to hire men to bring in the harvest. When my brothers got old enough they worked the fields and this saved some money. As the only girl and the youngest one in the family I was spoiled and I only had to help my mother around the house.
City people have the idea that children who grow up on farms are innocent because we are not supposed to be faced with all kinds of temptations. This is a mistaken notion. Sexual desires come to farm girls and boys just as it comes to kids living in the most sophisticated cities. After all, don't we have bodies, too?
I was nine years old when I started to get curious about sex. As the only girl in a house with three virile, growing boys it was easy to overhear all kinds of sexy conversations. Sometimes, when the boys saw me, they would suddenly get quiet. I knew, of course, they had been talking about girls and they didn't want me to overhear. But, at the age of nine, you couldn't keep sex away from my mind long. It was at that age I saw a penis and testicles for the first time.
Henry, my oldest brother who was seventeen, liked to strip off his clothes in the barn and look at magazines filled with pictures of nude girls. I didn't know it at the time but he masturbated a lot in the hay loft. One hot afternoon I wandered into the barn and heard some noise in the loft. I climbed up a ladder soundlessly and peeped over the rim of some hay. There, stretched out naked with his prick in his hand, was Henry. In his other hand he held a girlie magazine and he was so intent at staring at the pictures that he didn't notice me. I knew that I was looking at something I wasn't supposed to but I couldn't help myself. My eyes were glued to that tube of meat and those fleshy balls between my brother's legs.
Henry kept pulling on his pecker furiously as if he were mad at it. Then his hand suddenly stopped moving. A milkish juice shot out of his tube and on to his belly. He put the magazine down and I saw the satisfied expression on his face. And then he discovered me staring at him. "Lorna!" he gasped in a mixture of hate and shame.
I hurried down the ladder as fast as I could and ran out of the barn. I was afraid that he might run after me so I rushed into my room and locked the door. I stayed there until it was time to eat. My mother had to call me over and over again before I dared leave the room. I didn't want to face my brother. When I did come down to eat I trembled because I was sure that he had told everyone I had seen his naked body. Girls of nine weren't supposed to look at boys who didn't have clothes on.
It wasn't long before I realized that Henry was even more afraid that I might say something about catching him jerking off. He avoided my eyes and was silent all through the meal. When it was over he seemed happy when I went back to my room without mentioning our brief meeting in the hay loft.
That night I couldn't get to sleep because my mind was full of thoughts about boys and their sex parts. I pulled down my pajama bottoms and rubbed my vagina. All I had was a slit between my legs while my brother had all that meat. I felt as if I had been cheated. My sex felt like a cut that indicated a tube and balls had been there. I pushed one of my fingers into my cleft. Excitement shot through my body. At the age of nine I had discovered the joys of masturbation.
The further I pushed my finger into my vagina the m ore thrilled I became. This, I thought, was what fuck meant. As a girl growing up amongst males I couldn't help but hear that word repeated again and again. I knew it had something to do with sex and making babies. Now I began to understand. A boy pushed his tube into a girl's slit and let juice come out just as my brother had in the hay loft. I closed my eyes and thought of my brother's big, stiff penis as I moved my finger in and out of my sexual opening. Now I wanted to be back in that loft gazing at him.
At harvest time my father hired some men to help bring in an especially big crop. These fellows were drifters who went from farm to farm picking up what money they could. My mother was afraid of them but, then, she was afraid of everything. She warned me to stay away from these strangers because too many grown men liked little girls. Instead of terrifying me this warning made me more interested in the farm hands. What was so bad about being liked?
My father hired three shabby-looking fellows and put them up in a shack. Since they were only going to stay a few days my father didn't waste any comforts on them. To clean themselves there was a shower stall and the other end was hooked to a faucet. It wasn't fancy but the men my father hired didn't seem to be the neat types to begin with.
I never paid much attention to this makeshift shower before but now that sex had entered my life I made a point of keeping my eye on it. . .literally.
My room was on the second floor of the farmhouse and, by standing on a chair and a box, I could look right down into the staff from my window. I was excited when the men my father hired took up residence in the shack. I slipped into my room and locked the door the first evening they were there and placed a chair next to the window. Then I put a box on the chair and climbed up on top of it. From my vantage point I could see right down the open end of the shower stall. There was a light inside the shack so I knew the three hired hands were there. I heard them laugh and talk. Since they had been sweating in the fields all day I was sure that at least one of them would take a bath. I pushed my dress up and fingered my tender opening. Sex hung heavy in the still air.
Suddenly the water was turned on in the shower stall. One of them was going to be naked! The rear door of the shack opened and a husky fellow of about thirty or so came out. He wore a towel around his waist and carried a bar of soap in one of his hands. I swallowed hard as I watched him test the water. When he decided it was warm enough...he took off the towel!
The nude man stood in the gloom of the evening. His sex organs were in shadow but I could see the outline of his body and the curve of his muscular rump. When he stepped into the shower stall he also stepped into a square of yellow light that came from one of the windows of the shack. I saw his tube of flesh and his gently swinging bag.
I moaned quietly and pushed my finger deep into my slit. My whole body warmed with desire. As the man soaked himself in the warm water his body grew shiny and this seemed to make his sexual parts clearer in the yellow light. I kept pumping my finger inside my cleft as I watched this adult clean his nude body. He turned and I saw his buttocks. The man rubbed his hands deep between the butt halves and I started to giggle.
Somehow it seemed funny.
The man turned again and this time he played with his pecker as my brother had. I gazed on in amazement as his sex grew and curled upward. His penis got bigger and bigger until it seemed to be three times larger than it had been when it was limp. What a wonderful thing was a human cock!
I watched as the man pumped his meat with his hand. At the same time I rammed my finger inside my gash quickly and it was if he were screwing me from afar. It was too dark for me to see the juice leap from his meaty tube but I knew it was happening when he stopped moving his hand. For a nine year old I was learning about life fast.
After the man dried himself the second fellow came out of the shack and stood under the shower naked. His body was tall and thin and he had almost no ass at all. Unlike the first one he didn't jerk off and his penis lay limp between his skinny legs as he cleaned himself. He didn't stay under the water long, just enough to wash off the grime and sweat.
The third man appeared. He was about my father's age and just as big. He was the best looking of the three. When he stepped into that square of yellow light I gasped when I saw his broad shoulders, his hairy chest and his big pecker. He washed himself slowly, turning around, showing me his handsome behind and then his big stick and bag. The man didn't play with himself as the first one had but I could see his penis swell and grow slightly as he passed his hand over it. In my excitement I shoved still another finger into my vagina and masturbated with gusto.
The big, handsome stranger finally stepped out of the shower and entered the shack. The water was turned off and I knew that there would be no more showers that evening. I still gazed at that window where the light was coming from hoping that I could see all three men naked together but all I saw were moving shadows. When the light was turned off I climbed down from my perch and crawled into bed. My heart pounded wildly as I kept thinking about what I had just seen. I took off my clothes and spread my legs wide. I imagined that the three men were in the room with me now, naked. My daydreams became night dreams as I slept. I dreamt of myself being in that shower stall and being touched all over by the three naked men. I dreamt of their big tubes of meat probing against my body and shooting juice....
Each evening I returned to that perch and watched as the men bathed themselves. On the last night my mother tired the door to my room and found it locked. "Lorna," she cried, "what are you doing in there?"
As it happened I was completely nude and masturbating. I quickly climbed off the box and put on my pajamas. My mother kept banging on the door as I took the box off the chair and brought it away from the window. When I finally did open the door my mother was angry. "What were you doing, girl?" she demanded. "Why do you go to your room so early every night and lock the door?"
"I.. .I'm sleepy...." I explained nervously.
My mother, who had to have been a girl herself at one time, must've known that sex was behind my secrecy. Still, she was just too stiff and reserved a woman to bring the matter up. Although I was her only- daughter we just never became close. As a matter of fact she wasn't close to my brothers, either. She centered all her feelings around my father. After seeing that third man who looked a great deal like him I couldn't exactly blame her.
"You be a good girl, you hear?" my mother said with a tight voice. "I don't want you to do sneaky things behind this door again, understand?"
I understood even though my mother couldn't bring it out in so many words. She was warning me about the dangers of masturbation. Everything sexual was dangerous according to my mother. It was a wonder to me that she ever married in the first place and had so many children.
My voyeurism began on that farm, in Kansas and increased as the years rolled by. I looked forward to harvest time when my father would hire new men. There is a theory that youngsters soon lose their curiosity about the human anatomy once they are exposed to naked bodies. It wasn't so in my case. My curiosity grew with each male I gazed at.
I was fourteen when I fell in love for the first time. At that age my body had attained nine-tenths of its growth and I was almost a woman. Hair had grown over my vagina and my breasts had filled out to firm, high cones. Men and boys no longer considered me just another cute farm girl.. .I was now a sex object.
At harvest time my father only had to hire one man because my brothers were big and strong enough to do a full day's work. The fellow wasn't like most of the drifters that pick up a few dollars here and there on farms. His name was Leon and I thought that he was almost beautiful. He had fine features, curly red hair and a tall, lean figure. Leon was twenty and he told my father that he had just gotten out of the army. He didn't want to settle down right away so that was why he was drifting around the country.
The young man was put in the shack that field hands had always used over the years. My father had not put any improvements in the place which was all right for me since I could leer at naked males to my heart's content when they showered. As it happened the new man was cleaner than most field workers and he showered both in the morning and in the evening. This meant I had two chances a day to enjoy my peeping.
Leon wasn't lazy and he got up at the crack of dawn. I heard the water run in that outdoor shower stall the first morning Leon was on the farm and I popped out of bed. I was now tall enough not to use a box on top of the chair when I perched near the bedroom window.
I sucked in my breath when I looked down at the nude young man. He had the whitest skin I had ever seen on anyone, man or woman. The only hair on his body was over his long, limp penis and it was a slightly darker red than the hair on his head. There was a tattoo on one of his arms near the shoulder and that was the only mark on an otherwise flawless body. When he turned he exposed a behind that seemed rather feminine to me. His buttocks were white, smooth and well-formed with a deep dimple over each butt half. Leon had long, muscular legs and narrow hips which were clearly masculine. I had seen many men bathe naked in that outdoor shower stall but this fellow was by far the most attractive.
As always my hand went to my pussy. I was now an expert at masturbation and tickled my clitoris with my fingertip as I imagined what it would be like to have Leon screw me. His penis did not erect but it was still very long in its limp state. I had seen male organs of every size and shape both limp and erected and I wondered just how big Leon's was then it was stiff.
It was a chilly morning and steam rose off the boy's body giving him almost a mystical appearance. He was like someone out of a romantic novel. Leon went back into the shack and turned off the water. I slipped between the bedcovers and shoved three fingers of one hand deep into my cleft. What was it like to have a real dick inside my body, I wondered. I couldn't go through life staring at boys from afar and then play with myself. Sooner or later that first, very important sex experience had to come. I wanted it to be as soon as possible.
My mother had always warned me to stay away from the shack out of a fear that I would get raped. So far the most sexual expression I had ever gotten from a field hand was a whistle. I began to wonder if my mother's sex fears about me were nothing but fears.
When Leon had finished his evening shower I walked over to his shack and knocked on the door. When he opened it he was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight jeans which hugged the bulge of his crotch and his shapely rump. "I thought you might like to read the newspaper," I said and handed it to him. This was my excuse to see him in the first place.
"Why, thank you Miss Dixon," he said with cute formality. "I've been wanting something to look at besides these four walls."
This gave me the further excuse to step inside the shack. "I've never been in her," I told him even though the place was as familiar to m e as my own bedroom.
I felt Leon's blue eyes sweep over my body even though my back was turned to him. There was only six years separating us so we could be lovers. It wasn't as if he were a man old enough to be my father.
I chatted about things in general more to work off my nervousness than anything else. This was the first time in my life I had ever been in the shack when it was occupied. I knew my mother would scream at me if she found out but it didn't matter. I was fourteen and had all the growing passions of a healthy female.
When I sat down on one of the cots I folded my legs in such a way that I exposed more than "decency" would allow. There is a touch of the exhibitionist in every voyeur, I suppose. Leon reacted swiftly to my flirtation. He wasn't one of those shy, stumbling hicks who became tongue-tied anytime they were around girls. I could see right away that he was used to female company and he sat next to me on the cot. "You are a very pretty girl, Lorna," he said becoming informal and cozy. "But, does your family know you're here?"
As young as I was I knew why he was asking me that question. He wanted to find out if I had gone to see him on my own and this would tell him whether or not I was expected back in the house shortly. I hadn't told anyone about my visit, of course, and I let the handsome boy know that he had time enough to...to do anything males did to females.
He placed a hand on one of my bare legs, testingly. A chill shot through my body. My very first sexual overture from a boy! But, Leon was more man than boy and realized his responsibility. Even though I was all but throwing myself at him he couldn't afford to take me up on my offer. At the age of fourteen, I was considered "jail bait."
Leon's natural desires warred with his self-control. I could see the bulge in his crotch swell with passion but he didn't dare move his hand further up my leg. To weaken his control I moved in such a way that my dress rode higher. I wasn't wearing any panties and I felt a cool breeze tickle my cunt.
The red head pushed my dress up another inch and exposed my pubic triangle. He made a small sound with his mouth when he saw my sex. Now he realized that I was begging for experience. Leon opened his pants swiftly and his pecker rose up large and pink. It was a beautiful sight. After staring at male sex organs from afar for so long I was now only inches away from one. I slipped my hand over the rigid tube and leered down at the shiny, knobby tip of the penis with its small, shadowy slit in the middle. His manhood felt so warm and good and I squeezed it tightly.
"Have you ever been here with other men?" he wanted to know.
"Never," I told him.
His hand, which was now on my hairy box, froze. "You're a virgin?" he asked softly.
I said that I was thinking that this would attract him to me even more but it had the opposite effect. He pulled his hand away. "You'd better go home now," he said. "I don't want to fuck a kid and get into trouble."
My hand seemed welded to his long, thick penis and I couldn't let go. "I'm not such a kid," I told him. "I've already seen you naked. I've been looking at naked men since I was nine."
He stared at me in disbelief until I told him about the bedroom window and how I had a clear view of the shower stall. He laughed. "Damn! A female Peeping Tom! I never knew there were such things," he said.
The fact that I wasn't as virginal as I seemed made him relax. Once more he placed his hand on my sex and he pushed a finger inside. This action triggered his passions as much as it did mine. He pulled off his pants and pushed my dress all the way up to my arm pits. Since I wasn't wearing a bra, either, he could see my bare breasts. "Baby," he breathed, "I don't want to do this but you're asking for it."
He placed his mouth against one of my nipples and sucked. Leon licked both of my breasts and then ran his tongue down along my belly to my pubic region. He knelt on the floor before my spread legs and gave me my first Frenching. I had the feeling that he was trying to avoid actually screwing me because it meant rape. At fourteen I was below the age of consent.
Leon's red curls were pressed between my thighs as he mouthed my slitted opening. When I eyed his pink, throbbing upright tool I wondered how it would be to take that in my mouth. Oral sex was supposed to be a perversion but it all seemed natural to me.
"Baby," the twenty-year old boy sighed when he lifted his head, "I'll be careful. I'll pull my dick out in time."
I had some knowledge of what he meant. He wanted to avoid shooting his juice and making me pregnant. I didn't care one way or the other at the moment because I was so aroused my entire body felt as if it were on fire.
The young field worker mounted me and he guided the rounded end of his sex tube into my gash. "Oh!" I gasped with both desire and fear.
"I'll be careful," the boy repeated and inched into my flesh.
His long, hard meat slid into my body slowly and he pressed his hairless chest against my engorged nipples. I was .actually being screwed! This is the thing I had been dreaming of for years and now it was happening.
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!" I cried aloud as he pushed through my virginal veil. There was a fleeting second of tearing pain and then pleasure took hold of me again. Leon moved all the way into me and I clawed at his back in a spasm of sexual joy. He lifted his chalk-white rump and plowed into me for the second time. He repeated this action just once more and then he lifted his wonderful prick clear out of my passageway. Warm liquid spurted over my belly. He was coming outside of my body as he had promised. He lay on top of me and pushed his body back and forth so that his penis could have some friction. The boy kept spewing his juice for what seemed to be a full minute. He then rolled over on his back, his damp, partially limp organ flapping against his pale body. And then I looked down at my own sex. It was covered with blood. "What happened?" I all but wept. "You hurt me!"
At fourteen there was a lot I didn't know about sex and this was one of them. I didn't know that girls bled the first time. Fear now overcame all my desires. Leon did his best to explain that the bleeding was knew I shouldn't have done it!" he cried. "I knew it! Kids are trouble."
I dressed quickly, weeping all the time. Leon pulled on his pants and implored me not to tell. His white face grew even whiter. Technically he was guilty of rape. In Kansas he could be hung for that. I told him that the last thing in the world I wanted was my parents to know about me losing my virtue to a field hand. He tried to smile and assured me that I would feel a lot better in another hour. He advised me to take a long walk instead of hurrying on home.
This was good advice because I was hardly in a condition to see anyone. I walked along a dirt road for awhile in the moonlight and my nerves calmed down. I had stopped bleeding and I began to feel better. Why hadn't I known about virginal bleeding? Why hadn't my mother said anything about sex? Well, it no longer mattered: I was a woman myself now. Sex had matured me.
An hour later I dared enter the farmhouse. My mother was first to greet me. Her thin face was set. "Where have you been?" she demanded.
"I was just walking," I answered trying to sound as innocent as possible.
"With Leon?" she snapped.
"Of course not!" I replied. "Can't a girl go off by herself once in awhile?"
She stared at me hard and, for a terrifying moment, I thought she was able to read something in my face. All she would have to do was lift my dress and see that I had recently been screwed. I walked away from her and locked the door of my room. When she didn't come after me I sighed with relief.
The distant sound of running water woke me up the next morning. Leon was bathing! Completely naked I walked over to the window and stood on the chair. I saw that familiar white body shining in the dawn's early light. For the first time in my long history of peeping at field hands I pulled back the curtain I had always hid behind in the bedroom so that the fellows could not see me. I tapped at the window gently. Leon looked up and saw me exposing my naked body to him. He smiled and waved. I spread my legs wide and thrust a finger deep into my vagina. He spread his legs in silent answer and waved his engorging penis at me.
I watched it swell and grow until it was fully erected. The young field worker grabbed his meat and started jerking off.
I, from afar, joined him in an act of mutual masturbation. We both pumped the lower halves of our bodies at one another as if we were locked in fornication. Leon started to come. His milkish juice leapt from the head of his dick. I shoved all my fingertips into my cleft and spread it apart as wide as I could and then rammed my body against the window. I moaned aloud as if I were actually having intercourse with him. Strangely enough I found this voyeuristic act more exciting than the actual screwing had been.
Later on that day I met Leon and suggested that we see one another in the shack after work. He shook his red curls. "No, sweety," he responded. "You're a beautiful piece of ass but I don't want to risk it. Last night I was close to clearing off this farm because of what I had done. You're just too damned young to fuck, honey."
It was a unique experience for me to be rejected by a boy but, then, sex itself was a unique experience for me. While Leon didn't want to risk the danger of having sex with me in the shack he didn't mind screwing from afar. He enjoyed having me stare at him as he showered and, for the first time in years, I was able to stare at a naked male who knew he was being stared at. Every voyeur needs an exhibitionist.
On the morning he left we had a long fuck both from the standpoint of distance and time. For this farewell act of love I used a six-inch long cucumber as a phallus. As I stood before the window naked I pushed the penis-sized object into my vagina as the red head pulled on his meat. Since we had been "making love" like this twice a day he didn't have much juice left for the last act. Leon kept jerking his pecker and I kept pumping that knobby cucumber into my body. I no longer bled and this made me feel very adult. I was no longer a silly, dreaming virgin.
I moaned and groaned in passion as the phallus slid against my erected clit. My vagina became moist and very warm. I looked down at my "lover" pulling on his pink prick and it didn't take much imagination to feel that he was inside my body instead of the cucumber. Leon finally shot out some juice and his sex organ quickly became limp. He blew a kiss to me and entered the shack.
I was still so aroused that I kept on screwing myself with the dildo. My moans of ecstasy brought someone to the door because I felt it being tried. "Lorna?" my father asked. "Are you all right?"
As aroused as I was I knew enough to close the curtain, replace the chair and crawl into bed. "I'm fine, dad," I called back pretending to be half asleep.
"I heard you moaning and groaning," he said through the locked door.
"I guess I was having a nightmare, dad," I told him while pushing the phallus all the way into my slitted opening as if trying to hide it.
My father, being a less suspicious person than my mother, took me at my word and left. When I went down to breakfast I kept exchanging secret glances with Leon. My father paid him off and shook his hand.
"I'd like to see you next season," he said. "You're the best worker we've ever had."
I looked deeply into the boy's eyes telling him, in our silent way, that I wanted to see him again...all over. The red head left and I had to leave the house to hide my tears. I stepped into that outdoor shower stall and looked up at the window I had been staring through for so long. There would be other men standing here, I told myself. There would be other naked bodies I could stare at. The foundation to my career as a female voyeur was now well laid.
CHAPTER TWO
No girl in the state of Kansas was more of an expert on male anatomy than I. By the time I was seventeen I had seen men of all ages, colors, and shapes in that outdoor shower stall. Then my private fun was suddenly ended when my father moved the shower indoors. His explanation was that the men would be more inclined to clean themselves if they didn't have to submit their bodies to the cold air all the time. I didn't dare object because my parents would immediately become suspicious and add two and two together.
I had become so hooked on gazing at nude males by then that I had to find another outlet.
Since I lived in a rural area I couldn't walk around peeping into windows. For voyeurism a city was needed.
Oddly enough, with all the experience I had at viewing naked males I was still very shy around them. When boys my age tried to make me I would react like any other well-brought-up farm girl. Somehow I couldn't loosen up with boys when I was close to them. I could only release my emotions when they were away at a safe distance and not aware of my presence. So far the only male I had ever let come close to me was that handsome drifter who took my cherry. The boys I knew considered me to be stuck-up or frigid. They just had no idea of what a secret erotic life I led. That is, the life I led until the time my father moved that shower stall indoors.
The closest I came again to sex was when a good-looking boy of eighteen invited me to a dance. His name was Elmer and, although this made him sound like a chick, he was anything but. Elmer was one of the most active studs in the farming community and I knew some of the girls he had thrown his cock into. They told me that no girl could resist his charms once he turned them on. I guess that's why I was so willing to along with him; I wanted to love boys close up instead of at a distance. At seventeen I knew that I had already become a kook with my passion for peeping and I wanted to get normal again.
After the dance Elmer drove me out to a deserted spot near some tall trees. I knew that he was going to make a serious pass and my heart beat wildly. He slipped his arms around me and pressed his lips against mine. His mouth opened my mouth to receive his probing tongue. My first French kiss.
I tongued him back and this was all the encouragement he needed to rub his hand over the crotch of my panties. I began to get nervous. "No.. .don't," I sighed.
The boy was too aroused to stop. He opened his fly and out popped his stiff penis. Even though I had seen male organs by the dozens one this close up scared me. The teenaged stud had a tremendous horn with a pair of testicles that looked like medium-sized coconuts. If Elmer had been a hundred feet away I would've adored gazing at his male goodies but, as it was, his meat was only an inch away from my bare legs. Goose pimples covered my entire body and my nipples turned into hard rocks. I was also aroused and yet I couldn't let myself go as I had with Leon. When the boy started to pull my panties down I slapped his face hard. "I'm not that kind of girl!" I screamed.
Elmer gritted his teeth and moaned. "Then don't be such a cockteaser!" he snapped. "You lead a guy on and then slam the door in his face."
"I'm not a teaser!" I told him. "I didn't lead you on. Now take me home before I get angry."
The boy's heavy cannon was still erected and I wanted to have it rammed all the way up my pussy yet I found myself acting like the ravished virgin. When Elmer let me off at my house I went to my room and cursed myself for being such a fool. I threw myself back on the bed and fingered my slit as I thought of the stud's mighty sex organ. How I wanted to see that meat again.
I got a change to see Elmer naked that following summer. It was an open secret in the farming community that men and boys liked to swim naked in a nearby pond. We womenfolk, of course, avoided the area just to let the fellows have their privacy. No female would ever think of intruding on them. . .except me.
If the men in the district knew of a pond where females swam naked the place would be crawling with them but it didn't seem to work the other way around. This made me feel odd. Was I the only female Peeping Tom in the world?
I tried to resist going out to that pond but the more I thought of it the more I wanted to see that spot where male nudity was on display. The last straw came when I heard Elmer make a date with some other boys to meet him at the pond. I wanted to see his flesh again. I wanted to look at the boy who almost screwed me.
The day was very hot as I walked towards the pond. Kansas is known for its very hot summers and very cold winters. These temperature differences have forced more than one family to up and leave for California.
As I drew near the pond I could hear male voices laughing and talking along with splashing water. Although it was a very hot day I became chilly. It had been months since I had seen naked boys from afar.
I reached a small rise that was covered with bushes and crawled up it like a soldier in combat. I was wearing my work jeans and shirt so it didn't matter how dirty I got. When I reached the summit of the rise I pushed some undergrowth apart and looked down at the pond. My eyes danced in my head as I saw seven or eight naked teenaged boys. I was in my glory again.
Elmer was poised at the tip of a log that served as a diving board with his back toward me. His muscular body shone with wetness in the golden sun and he had the cutest ass. Three boys were already in the water four more waited their turn to dive off the log. Their ages ranged from fifteen to eighteen. I knew them all since I had grown up with them. The youngest boy was an almost pretty kid with a slight body and an underdeveloped pecker. He had very little pubic hair and his behind was as soft as a girl's. One of the oldest boys had a hairy body and a long dick that swung when he walked. I wondered why girls didn't swim naked together. It seemed like such fun. At school some girls even refused to strip in the locker room. What was there about the female body that was supposed to be so precious anyhow?
I lay flat on the ground and my breath disturbed the dry dirt that was just under my nose.
Elmer jumped off the board. His dick and balls flapped in the breeze for a split second and then he was under the water. Tommy, the fifteen year old, was the next on the board. The other boys ribbed him about his underdeveloped penis. "Hey, Tommy, did a mule bite your pecker off?" Donald, the hairy, eighteen years old shouted.
Males seemed to enjoy this type of rough, sexual play. I had seen this happen so often in that outdoor shower stall. Males also seemed to be very hung-up about penis size and it was their idea that the bigger the cock the better the lover. With only one sex experience behind me I couldn't judge this theory but I doubted that the size of a penis in its limp state was so important. It was only when a male organ became erected that love began.
Tommy dove off as if trying to hide his sexual development. Another boy joined him and then another. How I envied them their nudity and swimming. Then, in a sudden spasm of desire, I stripped myself while still in a prone position. My bare breasts hung down and I touched the dirt with lust-stiffened nipples. A warm breeze played over the crack of my ass. I watched the eight nude boys splash and swim not more than twenty feet away and had the strongest urge to dart out of the bushes and join them. But, as always, I found satisfaction in curling three of my fingers into my cleft and playing with myself that way. None of the boys had an erection although they liked to wave their dicks at one another and shout sexy things like, "This here thing has been in plenty of dark holes."
I hoped that they would start dropping the names of the girls they had screwed. There is more to voyeurism than looking. Ears could also be brought into play. But the boys revealed no secrets except their bodies and this was good enough for me. Dicks, balls, behinds drifted nakedly past me as I masturbated. I had never seen so many attractive young boys in the nude in one spot before. I became so engrossed in the sight that I didn't know that one of the boys had left the group to take a leak. It was only when I heard his piss strike the ground a few feet away that I realized what danger I was in. Donald was standing with his back turned to m e holding his pecker as he urinated. I pressed against the ground hoping that he wouldn't look down and see me. It was too late to inch away.
When the eighteen year old boy stopped pissing I closed my eyes as if trying to hide in the darkness I caused. And then I heard the word that would change my life. "Hey!" he shouted.
I tried to cover myself with my clothes but Donald wouldn't have it. He pulled my shirt away and his eyes burned into my body. "Hey!" he repeated. "Look what I found!"
I heard a great deal of splashing as the boys ran out of the water. Soon I was surrounded by eight naked boys. "Lorna!" Elmer gasped. "You were looking at us!"
He said this as if I were the first female Peeping Tom in the world.. .and maybe I was. I think I would've gotten away untouched if I were clothed but I was as naked as they. This made the difference. "Look at those tits!" one of the lads sighed.
"Look at that cunt!" Elmer joined in. "I always wanted to crack it."
Tommy, the fifteen year old, quickly developed an erection. His small dick kept swelling and swelling until it stood upright a full five inches which seemed normal for a boy his age. The other boys began to get erections and, as scared as I was, I couldn't resist gazing at this mass display of youthful virility. When all the boys had hard dongs I could see that there wasn't all that difference in penis sizes. Most of the boys had six-inchers while Elmer seemed to top them with a seven-inch cannon. His testicles were big and hairy and I could see that I wouldn't be able to stop him from plowing into me again.
"Let's gang-bang her," Donald suggested softly.
All of them made a move towards me. "Wait!" I cried. "This will be rape!"
Elmer laughed. "Honey, you came out here, stripped yourself jaybird naked, and looked at us when we were swimming. Lorna, you're asking for it so cut out the teasing shit."
He was right, of course, but something in me made me play the role of victim all the same. When Elmer came down on top of me I screamed. His mighty meat rammed onto my body and he slid in easily. Although I had had only one real dick before I had used so many dildoes that, by now, my pussy was as wide and as tough as a choker's. Elmer, the boy who knew his way around females, realized this the second his long tube slipped all the way into me to the hilt. "Damn, you've been banging everything on two feet!" he exclaimed.
I couldn't tell him the truth, or course. I couldn't say that his sex organ was only the second to ever enter my body. He lifted his rump and plowed into me as hard as he could while the other boys looked on. When I gazed up at them I could see their erected penises from the undersides. I wondered how many of them were virgins. Tommy's eyes were wide and he seemed to be in a trance as he watched Elmer screw me. I knew that he had never had a girl before. Sex hung in the air like something that was almost visible. Nothing could stop eight boys from screwing me now.
Elmer shot his load. His fluid poured into my body like warm water and he grunted with sheer animal pleasure. "Why the hell couldn't you've given in that night after the dance?" he asked.
I had no answer. How else could I explain rejecting him one night and yet crawling on my belly to see him naked now?
Donald took Elmer's place as soon as he got off my body. There seemed to be a pecking order where the older boys get me first. Donald's hairy, wet body rubbed against mine as he plowed into me. Despite my fears and my self-disgust I felt my nipples stiffen again against his chest. His long, hard penis pumped into my body and the other boys became more excited knowing that their turn would come. A couple of them knelt near my feet to get a better view of the sexual coupling. I felt like a piece of meat on display.
"I bet you can't wait," Elmer said to Tommy who kept fingering his erected part.
The fifteen year old nodded and kept staring down at me.
"Well, then you be next, kid," Elmer offered grandly as if he owned me.
Donald rammed his pecker fast and faster as he neared a climax. He stopped suddenly and let loose a sigh as he released his come. I had the urge to embrace him but I didn't want to show the boys I was all that willing. Even in my situation I wanted to pretend I was hard-to-get.
When Donald got off me there was a pause as Elmer pushed the youngest boy towards my waiting flesh. Tommy seemed nervous and I felt sorry for him. Maybe he wasn't ready for sex. People matured at different ages. But the young kid couldn't back away now. He had to prove his manhood.
"Sorry, Lorna," he said as he mounted me timidly.
Tommy's body was only slightly damp since the dry air had gone to work on him as well as the others. After Elmer and Donald he was like a child with his soft body and his small dick. The boy clumsily tried to guide his penis into my vagina and this made the older boys laugh. "Come on, Tommy," one of them called. "Just pretend she's your favorite sheep."
I was only part of a game to the boys and not something to cherish and to love. Leon, at least, had been considerate but this bunch, for the exception of Tommy, treated me like the dirt that ground against me back and ass.
The fifteen year old lad finally pushed his virginal pecker into my slit and started pumping as he had seen the other two do. He was so excited that he shot his load after the third stroke. He kept moving as he poured much to the delight of his friends.
"Look at old Tommy go!" Elmer cried. "You'd think he's been fucking for years."
The boy emptied himself out and then got to his feet. His baby-face was flushed. He seemed very proud of himself. Today he had become a man.
One by one the others followed. They became a blur and it was if I were being banged by a single boy who was so virile that he spewed again and again. Then there was a moment of silence. No one tried to mount me. "Have I taken on all of you?" I asked bitterly.
"Yeah, all eight, sugar," Donald said. "Do you feel better now?"
"Do you?" I snapped and reached for my jeans.
Another boy kicked my clothes away. "Don't be in such a hurry, Lorna," he said. "You look all dirty and sweaty. Let's go for a swim."
Hands grabbed me and I found myself being carried towards the pond. The boy tossed me into the water and I struggled to get away from them but they wouldn't let me. It wasn't every day they had a naked girl to play with. They grabbed my rump, my crotch, and my tits as if to exploit the situation as much as possible. I felt cheap and awful and I kept trying to escape to the safety of my room. Only moments ago I had found these boys the most beautiful things on earth and now they were all so ugly. As I had already learned from Leon. . .males were best viewed from a distance.
It was only when I started to cry that the boys tired of their game. They followed me out of the water still sneaking feels. At least half had developed new erections and I wanted to get away before they decided to use me as an outlet again. Elmer grabbed me by the shoulders before I had a chance to get at my clothes. "How about some Frenching?" he asked.
"I don't want to kiss you," I mumbled.
"Honey," he laughed, "I don't mean kissing."
It was another few seconds before I understood that he wanted me to mouth his sex as Leon had mouthed my vagina three years ago. "You can go to hell," I told him and tried to leave but the strong boy held me fast.
"If you don't do it I'll tell everybody what went on here," he warned.
Tell. This was the one thing that I was really afraid of. In the tight community a girl's reputation could be destroyed by one rumor. Since eight boys had used my body that meant I had eight chances to be ruined. All the fight left my body. "Elmer...you won't tell. . .please," I said.
"Just be good and no one will be the wiser," he assured me.
The rest of the boys gathered around me knowing that I still had sex to offer. A final bit of anger made me shout at them. "I'm the one to tell," I claimed. "After all, you boys attacked me in the bushes. I didn't want to screw any one of you."
"She's right," Tommy injected fearfully. "We can go to jail."
"Will you cut that crap about jail?" Donald told him. "Lorna won't go to the police and say that she's a Peeping Tom. Lorna won't do anything. . .except go down on all of us."
"Bastards!" I screamed.
"Be that as it may," Elmer said with a snide tone, "but the only way you'll get us to keep our mouths shut is to open yours."
It was no use. I couldn't scare this pack off or numb them with my girlish tears. When males are aroused they permit nothing short of death to stop them from getting at the objects of their lusts. I went down on my knees and there was Elmer's seven inches of manhood staring me in the face. Once more the rest of the boys gathered around to watch. To them sex was a public, cooperative affair.
I opened my mouth and leaned forward. Elmer's tube of meat entered my mouth and I began to suck. I was determined to get it over with as soon as possible. Sex didn't take long. Tommy had come only a few seconds after he penetrated me. What I didn't bring into account, of course, was that males took longer reaching their second orgasm.
Elmer placed his hands on my head as I bobbed back and forth along what part of his penis I was able to take orally. When he climaxed he held me fast so that I had no other choice but to swallow the spurting male fluid. This set the pattern for the others.
Donald took Elmer's place as he had before. His male number wasn't fully erected but I took it orally anyhow. As I fellated him his sex organ grew bigger. I knew that he was about to come when he grabbed my head so that I wouldn't pull away and spit. It really didn't matter to me if I swallowed or not. Too much had already happened. When the eighteen year old stud spewed I drank his juice much to his grunting satisfaction.
Tommy wasn't the third one as I had expected but, rather, a husky sixteen year old I had made mud pies with as a tot. Times certainly changed swiftly. I fellated him to the spewing conclusion and said to myself . . .three down and five to go.
The sight of me mouthing sex organs obviously made the others more aroused since they climaxed more quickly. I kept swallowing and counting them off until I got to the last. Tommy. The young, pretty boy stood before me with his childish dick stiff and pink. Feeling like a worn-out hooker on a Saturday night I opened my mouth for the final time and fellated the boy until he shot his load. I drank even though Tommy didn't try to hold me against him with his hands. How easily habits are formed.
I sat back on my heels and fixed my eyes on the ground. "Now can I go?" I asked no one in particular.
"Sure, Lorna," I heard Elmer say. "You were good so we'll be good and say nothing."
Donald patted my ass when I stood up. "Come back tomorrow," he offered. "We'll all be here."
If the boys hadn't used me so much I would've come back to watch them as they swam naked but now Donald's offer made me sick. When I say sick I mean that literally. I threw up and vomited out all the come I had swallowed. The smell of semen was everywhere and I hurried into my clothes. I promised myself that I would never look at another naked male again. My Peeping Tom days were over.
I figured that the mass gang-bang was worth it since it burned out my voyeurism. Maybe I needed a good lesson to cure me of my crazy desire to watch others. But I soon discovered that my trials were only beginning. With eight boys there had to be at least one who couldn't keep a secret and soon my adventures were being whispered about all over the area. "Friends" told my parents and I knew what was on their minds when they came into my room one evening. Painfully, my father told me what was being said about me. "I know it can't be true, Lorna," he said with a weak smile. "You're not that kind of girl."
I suppose I could've lied my way out but it annoyed me that they ignored the fact I had any sexual leanings at all. This prompted me to respond, "But I am that kind of girl, dad."
His weather-beaten face tightened. "Do you know what's being said about you?" he asked with a thicker, harder voice. "People are saying you've had sex with eight boys at the pond. Tell me it isn't so, Lorna."
I took in a deep breath. Confession, I figured, had to be good for the soul. If I told all maybe I would be cured. When I told my parents that I not only had sex with eight boys but also with that red-headed drifter three years ago they went out of their skulls. My father took off his belt and began to lash me with it while my mother kept screaming that I was a bitch. I just curled up into a ball until my father beat all his anger out. When he was finished I packed a bag and left. When I walked out of the farmhouse that had been my home since the day I was born no one said a word. I had sinned and now was casting myself out into the exterior darkness where there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.
CHAPTER THREE
Kansas City, Missouri was just average sized as American cities go but to me it was a gigantic new world. I walked around the streets like a country rube staring up at the buildings and almost being hit by cars. I was only seventeen but I now had to make my own way in life somehow.
I had taken along with me all the money I had which was twenty-seven dollars. I had spent nine dollars on bus fare which left me with eighteen bucks. Dumb rube that I was I had no idea what things cost in the big city. When I saw a sign over a hotel saying that rooms could be had for a low of three dollars I thought it meant for a week. Instead, of course, it meant for a day which came to me as a shock when I talked to the desk clerk. "Haven't you anything cheaper?" I asked.
"Miss," the desk clerk pointed out, "the only thing cheaper is a flophouse and they're only for men."
The hotel did have a weekly rate which came to eighteen dollars so I took it in hopes of adding to my worldly goods via a job. I didn't have to pay the rent until the week was up so I had time to work in. I was tempted to ask the desk clerk for a job but I was afraid that he would peg me as a deadbeat or, worse, a hooker feeling out the new territory. I was now too cautious of the male animal to reveal just how vulnerable and alone I was.
After spending my life in a big, comfortable room with an excellent view my room depressed me. As the cheapest room in the place it overlooked an air shaft and it was about the size of two coffins put together. The walls were dusty and unpainted and the bed was hard. I sat on it and cried for about a half an hour. I knew that I could not go back home. Where I came from scandals never died and I would spend my life being pointed out by leering men and snickering women. No, somehow or other I had to survive.
I was young, pretty and intelligent so I had these things going for me so I couldn't see why I couldn't make it. Time was wasting, I thought, and dried my eyes. With a rent bill staring me in the face I had no time to waste.
I bought a newspaper and looked up the want ads. There were factories willing to take on inexperienced girls just out of high school but the idea of being cooped up in a noisy plant turned me off. What I wanted was something close to the hotel so I could save carfare by walking to and from work. I decided to ignore the paper and just walk around the neighborhood next to the hotel. That's when I found a big cafeteria with a cardboard sign in the window claiming that it needed men, women, boys and girls. Since I fit into one of those categories I went in and applied for a job. I was sent to an office to fill out forms and was offered the job, at the minimum hourly wage, of keeping the food supply up at the long counter. I had to keep bringing in containers of milk, saucers of cake and fruit, boxes of dry cereal, pots of hot food, and so on and so on from the kitchen. Since it didn't seem too complicated and I was offered a free meal every day I took the job. The manager, a fat, sad-eyed man with a wheeze told me to come back the next day. I left the restaurant in a foolishly happy daze thinking that a brave new world was beginning to open up for me.
I celebrated by going to a movie. I soon found out that young, pretty girls simply didn't go to the movies alone in Kansas City, Missouri or any other big town. As soon as I sat down some man took the seat next to me even though there were rows and rows of empty seats all around me. I stared at the screen for a few minutes until I felt a pressure on my leg. The man next to me was staring at the screen but his hand was on my leg like a pale spider. I got up and changed my seat. The man moved five seconds later, obviously trying his luck on some other leg.
The movie went on for another five minutes before another man sat next to me. This one waited for about thirty seconds before he started rubbing his knee up against mine. I let out a sigh and changed my seat again.
By this time I couldn't concentrate on the movie because I was aware of all the single men who kept bouncing from seat to seat. When the third one sat next to me I walked out of the theatre. My education into the ways of the big city had begun.
I went to work bright and early the next morning. I was the youngest female employee and by far the most attractive. When I looked at the tired bags in their thirties, forties, and fifties I made up my mind I would quit the job once I built up some kind of bank balance.
The male employees weren't anything to look at, either. Most of them were over thirty although there were two exceptions. Bill was a fellow in his early twenties and Norman was eighteen. I could see right away that the two young fellows were drifters who went from job to job just like some farm hands I'd met. The menial job of the restaurant wasn't something anyone with sense stayed in all their lives.
The work wasn't hard but it was awfully monotonous. I kept going from the kitchen to the food counter with trays of supplies as the customers kept pouring in at all hours. The rush hours, of course, were breakfast, lunch and dinner. But these three rushes came so close together that slow times were rare. I had my first full meal since leaving home right after the lunch hour rush. There was a special section in the rear next to the toilets where the employees ate and that's where one enjoyed what social life the huge cafeteria had to offer.
Bill, the fellow in his twenties, introduced himself which was rare because no one seemed to be much for conversation in the place. He had a mass of shiny black hair and warm brown eyes. "Where you from?" he asked.
"I'm from a place you've never heard of," I told him. "I'm right off the farm."
I made up my mind from the beginning not to hide my rustic background as so many girls and boys off the farm did. I didn't want to pretend I was something I wasn't. Besides, to be a good liar you had to be a good actor and I wasn't cut out for show business.
Bill flashed me a hundred dollar smile and I felt one of his knees pump between my knees under the table. I shifted in my seat believing it to be an accidental touching but, as he talked, that knee of his became more insistent. It was the movie house all over again. I expected good looking young men to be interested in me but I didn't like it when they came on strong and sneaky a minute after I met them. For a seventeen year old girl with a wealth of sexual experience behind her I was basically shy and puritanical. I moved in my seat in such a way that my knees were pressed against the wall of the toilets. This was hint enough for Bill and he gave up pressuring me. . .for that day.
After work I walked home and fell into my bed like a ton of oats. The bed never seemed softer. I hated my job and I hated the hotel but I knew I had to hang on. The thing I hated most about the hotel was that I didn't have a private bath. I had to go down to the end of the hall and use the John. I had one advantage in the fact that I was one of the few females on my floor so that the ladies' room was usually empty. Still, I hated to have to walk down that ratty hall with my face unwashed and my hair a mess. I used to think my farmhouse was poor but, compared to the hotel, it was a palace.
My week at the hotel was up before I got my first salary. Since I had already spent half of my eighteen dollars I didn't have enough to pay the bill but I was sure that the manager would let it ride knowing I had a steady job five blocks away. When I told the desk clerk that I would pay him in a couple of days he sent me to see the manager, Mr. Clark Benson.
Benson was a short, squat nervous man with tiny dark eyes that shifted constantly. He was about forty and I took an instant dislike to him. Again I explained about the bill and my job. He shifted those tiny eyes of his. "How much can you afford to give right now?" he wanted to know.
I told him that I had nine bucks between me and hunger. The bastard generously allowed me to keep seven until I got paid two days later. A dollar a day to live on in a big city. I hadn't hit bottom but I was close to it. Anyhow, when I got my first paycheck I settled the bill which seemed to make the desk clerk and Clark Benson very happy. I wanted to leave the hotel in revenge but it was so close to work that I didn't want to bother. The manager, however, did offer me a better room now that it looked like I was going to be a permanent guest and not just another transient. I made sure that the price was the same before I took him up on his offer.
My new room was on a higher floor and was just as small as the one I had left. The only real difference was that it had a better view. This one overlooked the rear of another hotel. Well, at least I got some light and air which was something I hadn't gotten from my first room.
I didn't know exactly what my room had to offer until that night. I was looking out of the window casually just before I went to bed. Something struck my eye. I looked again and focused on a window of the other hotel that was three stories below my floor. A fully clothed man and women had just turned on the light and were paying no attention at all to the fact that their shade was all the way up. They both sat on the bed and passed a bottle of liquor back and forth. My own room was dark so I knew that they couldn't see me. I looked quickly at the other windows. The ones with the shades up had nothing to hide since they revealed either empty rooms or fully clothed people. The couple in the room that interested me were fully clothed but I suspected that they were about to do something that would require them to pull the shade down.
The woman in the room stood up and staggered a little. She was drunk. This explained why neither one of them thought about the shade. She stepped out of her shoes and had the man pull down the zipper of her dress. I felt my blood pressure rise. When I left the farm I didn't leave my voyeurism behind. It had followed me to the big city.
It was hard to tell the age of the couple but they were not kids. I would say they were in then-thirties. From the casual way they treated one another I was sure that they were either married or were used to living with one another.
The woman took her dress off and stood up. She placed one of her feet against the edge of the bed and the man pushed her slip all the way up. He undid the top of her stocking and then rolled it down her leg. He took off her other stocking in the same way. When she removed her slip all that stood between her and nudity were her bra and panties. She picked up the liquor bottle and drank from it as the man began to undress.
It occurred to me that I had never peeped at a member of my own sex although I had seen nude girls before in the school's shower and locker rooms. Although I wasn't aware of any homosexual inclinations on my part the idea that I was going to see a nude female excited me. I was so hung-up on voyeurism that it didn't matter much to me whether the ones I looked at were male or female. But, in this case, I had both...a man and a woman together.
The man pulled off his clothes awkwardly and he seemed drunker than his female companion. When he stripped down to nothing more than a pair of jockey shorts he stopped and drank from the bottle. My face burned. Would they go all the way?
I was afraid that one of them might finally see that the shade was up and pull it down or else they might turn off the light. How many couples screwed with the light on? The man and woman got playful and wrestled one another on the bed. When she was on top of him the man pulled her panties down and exposed her large ass. I heard her giggle and he massaged her rump with his hairy hands.
This bit of playfulness seemed to be a cue for them to get down to business. She removed her panties completely as the man took off his jockey shorts. He had a hard-on. The woman then took off her bra and her breasts spilled out nakedly. She had very big nipples that looked like a pair of red apples from where I stood and stared.
I swallowed with difficulty as I watched. I was sure that now they would turn off the light or pull down the shade but they didn't. They were actually going to fuck in front of my eyes!
The naked couple rolled around on the bed biting one another. Suddenly the man got on top of her and she spread her legs wide. The only movement now was his roving rump that went up and down. I couldn't see the actual coupling but I knew that they were enjoying intercourse.
The man seemed to be taking a very long time and I watched his can rise and fall over and over again. Then he stopped. The woman dug her fingers into his back wildly as she, too, reached the peak of her desires. It was at that moment I slipped one of my fingers into my cunt. I kept fooling around with my clitoris and imagined myself under that bulky man. It was so real that my passions peaked out and I moaned with sheer ecstasy.
My whole body tingled as waves of sexual excitement passed over me. I found this a more joyful experience than that time when eight boys banged me near the pond. All that love-feast was to me was mass humiliation with no eroticism to temper the pain. Here, watching a pair of strangers screw from afar was true happiness.
The couple kissed one another with open mouths. They rolled over again so that her ass was exposed instead of his. She rubbed against his body as if trying to excite him to further passions. He grabbed her butts and spread them wide. It was only then did he realize that the shade was up. His dull eyes seemed to be staring right at me and I stepped away from my window. I stood in the center of my small room and kept watching sure that he couldn't see me. He said something to the naked woman on top of him and she looked over her shoulder. They parted and he got out of bed in a hurry. He switched off the light and the room was plunged into darkness. The man came over to the window and, for a fleeting moment, his body was exposed to me with him limp penis and balls hanging. He pulled the shade down. My free show was over.
Once more I studied the many windows facing me. I was so aroused now that I just had to see something. . .a nude man, a nude woman, a couple, a child. In one room I saw a pair of female legs crossed through a narrow opening in a shade. She was taking off her stockings getting ready for bed. Then the light went off and I saw nothing. As a matter of fact lights were being turned off all over the face of the hotel as people went to sleep. How I envied the couples. How I wanted to have someone of my own to look at.
I went to my own bed and stripped off my pajamas. I spread my legs and stared up at the dark ceiling as I masturbated again. My thoughts went back to Leon. So far he was the only one in my short life I could call lover. Our sex scene had been messy and fearful but it is still the best I've ever had. Leon, I wondered if I would find him again. I wondered if he would appear in one of those windows outside just as he had appeared in that shower stall. Slowly I drifted off to sleep as passions left my body.
I knew that I could have a man of my own by simply giving into Bill's demands. He was after my flesh in a big way. Like m e he lived alone in a hotel and he wanted company as much as I did. Norman, the eighteen year old, drifted away as drifters do and simply never showed up one morning for work. I knew that Bill would go his way in time. So far he was the only half-way decent looking man I came into contact with and I didn't want to spend my nights looking out of the window at the loves of others. When Bill asked me out after work one evening I accepted.
We went to a nearby cocktail lounge. Although I was a year below the legal drinking age I easily passed for eighteen and the waiter said nothing when he brought us a couple of beer. On Bill's salary I knew that he couldn't afford a high old time so I was satisfied with what I got. He seemed grateful to me that I wasn't going to be pushy about going to a better joint.
After a few beers I was drunk for the first time in my life. Bill, on the other hand, seemed to be as sober as ever. He was used to drinking so a few beers meant nothing to him. When I told him that I couldn't take anymore he took my arm. "Let's get some air," he offered.
When we left the bar I staggered a little and I thought of that woman in the hotel room. Did alcohol enhance sex or depress it?
I allowed myself to be led along the street by Bill. I didn't ask him where he was going but I didn't care. For the first time since leaving home a man was showing interest in me. Maybe I might even marry him someday. A husband. That should cure me.
Bill led me into a hotel lobby. At first I thought he had taken me to my own place since the lobby looked much like mine. But cheap hotels looked the same everywhere. He led me into an elevator and swapped dirty jokes with the operator. I got the impression that the hotel didn't frown on female guests being taken to gentlemen's rooms.
When Bill half-carried me down the long, narrow hallway to his room he felt my body intimately. He wanted sex. Fear began to grip me. "Maybe I should go home," I mumbled.
"Home? You mean the farm?"
"No, my hotel."
"You're in a hotel," he said and we entered his room.
He opened a drawer and took out a half empty pint bottle of liquor. "Have a snort?" he offered.
Once again I thought of that couple who had passed the bottle back and forth. Was it possible I could enjoy sex close up as they had? I took the bottle out of his hand and drank from it as I had seen that woman do, I gagged on the burning fluid. It was little wonder to me that the Indians called the stuff "firewater."
Bill laughed, "I can see you're no drinker, Lorna," he said.
The young man took a deep drink himself as if trying to reach my stage of drunkenness quickly. He put the bottle away and mumbled something about getting "more comfortable." Bill took off his jacket and pulled off his shoes. I trembled. I had wanted to have a man of my own in a room and now that I had I was nervous. What the hell was it that stiffened me up anytime a man became intimate?
There were no chairs in the room so the only place we could sit on was the narrow bed. Bill put his arm around me and pressed his lips against mine without a word. I didn't react one way or the other and let him paw my body. He pressed my back against the bed and I felt his hand slip over my bra. Deftly he unhooked it and it came free. When my breasts were bared he looked down at them with a smile. "I've always been a tit-man," he informed me.
Everyone had their own, special sexual excitement and Bill went for boobs. He cupped my firm cones of flesh with his hands and massaged them. Gradually my nipples came to points. Bill lowered his open mouth on one of them and started to suck.
I ran my fingers through his thick, black hair hoping that this would be the start of something romantic. Bill sucked my other nipple and then licked both my breasts. He looked up. "Man, I have such a hard-on!" he exclaimed.
He got up and hurried out of his clothes. I watched in a dazed way. He was fully erected and had a nice, muscular body. He was a lot better looking than that man I had had such erotic thoughts about in that hotel room.
"Come on, honey," he urged. "Let's get with it."
My hands shook as I took off the rest of my clothes. I couldn't see what I was so nervous about since I've already fucked and sucked nine different males. When I was naked Bill pressed his lean body against mine. His dick slipped into my cleft and he banged away. I let my hands roam his back and I clutched at it with mounting passion. There was no reason in the world I shouldn't have him. It was sick to jerk-off while watching others have all the fun.
Bill was an expert lover. He held back his orgasm for as long as possible as he rammed into me again and again. I brought my knees up and caught his moving hips between my inner thighs. My first act of sex had been clumsy, that day at the pond had been awful, but this session with Bill was exciting. I was certain that my Peeping-Tom nights were over.
He thrust into my slit with increased speed. I wrapped my legs around his and arched m y lower torso up against his as my passions came to a boil. Bill shot his load. His come leapt into my body and we both sighed with relief. I held him tight as he poured out his virile fluid. When his last drop slid into my flesh he sucked my nipples again. At the same time he pumped a couple of fingers into my vagina. I stroked his thick hair and forgot about the dismal room and how lonely I had been.
I now had a lover. We shared a larger room at Bill's hotel and this saved both of us some money since we split the rent fifty-fifty. Bill was just too poor to support a mistress just as I was too poor to support a gigolo so we went Dutch. Everyone at work knew that we were sleeping together and the only one who seemed to object was a sour-faced old maid who hated sex in any form.
Bill told me that he wanted to save up enough of a pile to buy a second-hand car. Once he got that he wanted to drift in some kind of style and comfort. I thought that this was a good idea and offered to add my tiny savings to his. He told me that he didn't want it at first but he gave in. Now I had something to live for. This made the awful work at the cafeteria worthwhile.
Bill was full of plans. He was so wonderfully alive that I couldn't help loving him. Although he never said so in so many words I was sure that he felt the same about me. I kept handing over as much as my salary as I dared to Bill and wondered just how fancy the car had to be. A good second-hand auto could be had for about eight hundred and I was sure that Bill had that amount. Our plan was to leave the job after we got paid and travel to either the east or west coast. Since we were in the middle of the country the trip would be just as long either way.
Weeks went by and I became eighteen. For a birthday present Bill showed me a car he claimed he had just bought. It was only three years old and I was surprised that he got it for such a reasonable price. "Pack your bag, honey," Bill told me. "We're off to the coast!"
"Which coast?" I wanted to know.
"Who cares?" he grinned. "Now let me have your pay envelope. I have to take care of the hotel bill and also fuel up the car. I gave him every cent I had and went to our room.
The first thing that made me suspicious was the fact Bill had already taken all his clothes out. I thought that he only wanted to get a head start on our new adventure so I didn't pay much attention to it. I went down to the lobby and waved at the desk clerk. When he saw me with the bag he asked, "Checking out?"
"Yes," I beamed.
He gave me an icy smile. "Then will you pay your rent?"
Bill hadn't paid as I had thought. I told the man that he would be back in a few minutes and take care of everything. As I sat in the seedy lobby the employees of the hotel kept throwing mean glances at me. A half hour went by and the horror that I had been taken began to gnaw at me. No, not Bill! He loved me!
An hour went by and then another. Since I didn't have a cent I couldn't pay any bill so I went back to the room and waited. Maybe he had gotten into some kind of accident, I told myself. There was a knock at the door. When I opened it I saw two policemen standing there and I let out a little cry. "It's Bill!" I cried. "What happened to him?"
The policemen sounded very rough and ordered me to accompany them to the stationhouse. Parked outside the place was "our" car. It looked undamaged and I wondered just what kind of accident Bill had gotten involved in. I was afraid to ask the stern police anything and walked into the stationhouse with them. I was led into a bare room. Bill was sitting on a hard-backed chair looking very depressed. I threw myself into his arms. "Bill! What happened?" I cried.
"Your boyfriend got caught, that's what happened a detective informed me.
I looked at him blankly.
"Now don't give me that innocent look," he said. "You know that he stole that car parked out in front."
This time I looked at Bill. "Stole?" I repeated.
"Look, I said that she had nothing to do with it," Bill said to the detective. "She thought I bought the car with money we've saved up."
The detective slapped Bill's wallet on a table. "That means you've stolen money from your girlfriend, too," he said.
Bill nodded glumly without looking at me. It all fell into place now. He had only led me on to milk me for cash down to my last paycheck. Bill had no intention of taking me with him anywhere. All he was interested in was the money I gave him each week. He didn't even have to spend that. . .he stole what we had been "saving" up for.
Eventually I was cleared but not after some bad newspaper publicity. I had to go through some red tape to get what money Bill had conned me out of but, once I got it, I quit my job and checked out of the hotel. I walked to the center of the city and wondered where I should go and what was to happen to me.
CHAPTER FOUR
The bus screeched to a halt in the terminal in downtown Los Angeles. I had picked the west coast for no other reason than the first bus that left Kansas City was headed in that direction. This time I didn't gape up at the buildings as I had when I went to Kansas City. The rube from the sticks had had her rough edges smoothed clean.
I had a little over two hundred dollars which meant I didn't have to look for a job right away. One glance at the want ads told me that there were plenty of menial jobs opened for people who didn't care too much about the future. In the restaurant business the employee turnover was terrific so I could always hustle food trays again.
The cheapest place to live in Los Angeles was an area called Venice which was right on the Pacific Ocean. Hippies lived there for that reason along with winos and old people who had to get along on fixed incomes. I selected a rooming house run by a balding, oily man of thirty named Henry. I didn't like the way he kept throwing personal questions at me so I just ignored him. Beautiful teenaged girls alone seemed to be fair game to men. After my affair with Bill I wasn't interested in getting involved in another relationship. I just wanted to live day by day. Maybe something would turn up.
My room was a bit more comfortable than the ones I had in Kansas City which wasn't saying much. The view was better, though. The single window overlooked the beach. I promised myself that I would buy a bathing suit. The ocean was a big thing to a girl from the country where the biggest body of water was a pond. I spent the rest of that day walking up and down the shoreline getting my shoes and slacks wet. After that long trip on the bus I felt free and light.
It was dark by the time I got back to my room. As soon as I opened the front door Henry greeted me from his position at the end of the hall. He was sitting in a chair near a table. I had the idea that he made a practice of checking on everyone who came in and out. In Venice people had the habit of renting a room and then bringing in other non-paying guests.
I gave Henry a weak smile and locked the door to my room. I could hear the surf and thought that this was a nice, normal, natural thing to listen to at night. When I looked out of my window I was happy to find that I couldn't see into another room. That couple back in Kansas City had given me the sexual hunger to accept Bill as a lover. It was best that I had no temptations. Maybe my voyeurism would die with neglect.
The next day I parted with some of my precious money to buy a two-piece bathing suit. It wasn't a bikini but it was small enough to be sexy. I put on slacks and a sweater and walked barefoot to the beach. I wasn't the only one with that thought in mind. All over the rundown area people, most of them young, were walking towards the ocean. Some of the boys wore beards and more than a few tried to catch my eye. I stared straight ahead. I wasn't going to get involved with anyone. I wanted to enjoy my brief moment of freedom along before I had to find a job in another week.
As a girl from the farm swimming wasn't my strong point but I did enjoy being knocked about by the surf. I've always wondered why so many people from Kansas relocated in Southern California and now I could see why. If one had to struggle to make ends meet it was better to do it in a nice climate.
I sunned myself and loafed and a week went by before I knew it. The realities of life were crowding in on me. I couldn't be a girl of leisure forever so I went job hunting.
Los Angeles was spread out all over the map so that you really needed a car to get from place to place. I couldn't find any work in Venice and I had to ride buses to get to downtown Los Angeles where I took a job as food handler in a large cafeteria. It was my duty to load up dishes with things the customers pointed out on the hot food line. It was easier than keeping the counters filled with stuff but it was still hard enough. By the time I got my first paycheck I made up my mind to find a better job later on. For the moment I just wanted to replenish my savings.
Henry told me that I was one of the few guests at his rooming house who seemed to have a steady job. When I asked how the others got along he told me that they received checks from their family. I burned with envy. How wonderful it would be to sit back and let money come to me instead of breaking my ass for it. The hippies came from middle-class and upper-income homes so their parents could afford to dole out monthly paychecks while they lived the good life.
I knew that pot-smoking was a popular indoor sport in Venice because so many kids walked around bombed out of their skulls. They weren't noisy or violent so they didn't bother me. I wondered what marijuana was like but I didn't dare sound out anyone about how I could come by some.
People were always coming and going at the rooming house so I didn't get to know anyone. I lived in a most transient world. One Sunday night I heard the door next to mine open and close and voices murmur. New neighbors. The last one who lived in that room was a sullen young man with a beard who walked around like a ghost. He gave me the creeps. When I heard a woman's voice followed by a man's I became interested. I sat up in bed and plastered my ear against the thin wall.
"It's a dump, Charley," the woman complained.
"What the fuck do you expect in Venice?" he answered. "I told you we have to save money."
There was some moving of drawers and shuffling of feet as the couple put their clothes away. I wondered if they were married. The rooming houses of the care catered mainly to singles. I heard the bed squeal. This sound made my heart quicken for I knew it had to signal the beginning of love.
The man yawned. "Shit, but I'm tired, Ellen," he told her. "I don't think I can get it you tonight."
"Try the best you can, baby," she cooed.
My pussy began to itch with mounting excitement. After a month in California I was becoming a voyeur again except with my ears instead of my eyes. I had never realized just how thin the walls were until now because that silent, sullen man with the beard was as quiet as a mouse. This couple, on the other hand, were refreshingly noisy.
I heard shoes dropping to the floor and clothes being stripped off. Were they completely naked, I wondered? The bed squealed louder and I was certain that both were in it now. "Aw, come on, Ellen," the man complained wearily. "Let go of my prick."
"I just want to play with it for awhile, sugar," she answered. "It's my security blanket."
The bed squealed again. I held my breath for fear that I would miss a word. There was a long pause and then something that sounded like kisses. "It's getting harder," the woman whispered huskily. "You can do it, Charley."
Again I heard the shifting of weight and then a steady tempo as the bed bounced. He was on her.. .and in her! Only a few feet away a couple were making love. I wanted to tear a hole in the wall so that I could see.
"Oh!" the woman gasped in passion. "Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhh!"
Lucky bitch, I thought. She was having her ass screwed off while I lay alone in bed. She kept moaning and groaning with orgiastic sounds until, at last, there was silence. Then I heard heavy breathing that indicated sleep.
I was wide awake. After a month of sexlessness desire was coming back to me in a rush. I ached to know what the couple next door looked like. Both had some kind of accent that I couldn't quite place although I was sure they were born in this country. They sounded Southern. I wondered if they were young and attractive.
I managed to get to sleep and was awakened by the closing of a door the next morning. I threw on a robe and picked up a bar of soap and towel as if I were anxious to get to the bathroom. When I opened my own door I saw the couple that had just left the room next to mine head for the front door. It was no wonder they sounded Southern....they were black!
I watched them leave the house in awe. I came from a lily-white area where Negroes were very rare. None had attended my school so I had grown up without meeting a single black. Although I had seen some in Kansas City I never exchanged a word with any of them. Now I was living next door to a pair of handsome blacks, a couple I had heard making love. Both were in their twenties. The man was tall, husky and very dark while the woman was slim and tan. What did they look like naked, I wondered?
When I went to work that day I took special notice of Negroes. Since I had grown up with whites only I had no strong feelings for or against blacks. But, after last night, I now felt curious. I wanted to see that pair next door.
The next night was a repeat of the first. The couple talked about sex in raw, casual terms and they seemed to take a delight in speaking their desires. "Don't stay out in the sun too long, Ellen," I heard the man say. "I don't like my ass too black."
"Then why the shit don't you get yourself a white chick?" she wondered.
"Oh, I've thrown my cock into white gash before," he told her. "Under the blankets it's all the same."
I cupped my hands over my bare breasts as he spoke. What would it be like to have sex with a Negro? Did they have superior sexual skills as I've been led to believe? Were they better endowed than white men?
The squealing of the bed next door drove me wild with wanting. In desperation I grabbed my favorite dildo.. .a battery-operated vibrator. It was seven inches long and made of smooth plastic. I bought it through a magazine where it was being advertised as a device to "massage" all parts of your body in order to get "deep, penetrating relief from tensions." It was an open secret that the device was used by women on one area of the body alone. . .her vagina.
I touched the button that turned on the vibrator and slipped the pumping head of it into my cunt. Although the vibrator wasn't a human penis it did have the advantage of being larger than the average male organ and it also never went limp. For lonely females who didn't know how or want to get involved with men this was an object with which to "massage" away her "tensions" through "deep, penetrating relief."
As I listened to the black lovers next door go at it I rubbed the vibrating head of the dildo up and down my slit and then pushed it deeper into my body. The device made a slight, humming noise but I was sure that the people beyond the wall couldn't hear it. I slipped the dildo into my body another inch and another. I wanted to moan with pleasure but I knew that they would hear that.
"Charley! Charley!" the woman gasped in sensual joy as he plowed his black prick into her.
"Charley...Charley," I whispered to myself as I rammed the large, smooth dildo as far as I could into my gash holding on to a fraction of an inch at the wide base. My vagina heated up and grew moist with passion. I let go of the vibrator not caring if it became lost inside my body. I rubbed my breasts violently and pumped up against my invisible lover.
I slept late the next morning because it was my day off. It was a sunny day so I put on my bathing suit and then my jeans and sweater. By now I knew something about swimming so I founded around in the ocean with more energy than skill. Then I saw them...my black neighbors.
Charley and Ellen were in bathing suits walking arm-in-arm so engrossed in one another that they paid no attention to the sex-starved white girl who kept staring at them. I had only caught glimpses of them before but now I could really see them. The man had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long, muscular legs. His skin was like black silk and completely hairless. The man's crotch bulged with sex outlined by the tight pair of swim trunks that he wore.
Ellen had small breasts for such a tall woman but her legs were exceptionally beautiful. Usually slender women had shapeless legs but her's were perfect, as if created by an artist. Her tight suit brought out the curve of her ass and I could see the long crack between her saucy butt halves.
I watched the Negro couple walk away and my heart pounded with excitement. There just had to be a way I could peep in on them. Knowing that they were out of the house I walked back to the building and stood on top of a sand dune. From this point I could see the rooming house but the window I wanted faced away from the ocean. I walked around the place until I found the only spot I could peep from. It was clear to me that watching the couple from the outside was impossible since I had to stand on a street between that window and another building. With this view of the street I was sure that the couple knew enough to close their shades anyhow so voyeurism seemed to be out.
I returned to my room and stared hard at the thin wall that separated me from the loving couple. If only there were some kind of peephole. All I needed was a small opening. Then I saw a nail that had been driven into the wall. I hadn't noticed it before because it was so small. It was just about eye level and I assumed that someone must've hung a picture there at one time. Just how deep did the nail go in, I wondered?
I used a dime to pry around the edges of the nail's head. It became looser and looser until I was able to pull the nail out by hand. A small beam of light came through the hole. When I pressed my eye against the spot the nail had been I could see directly into the room next door! I saw the bed against the other wall perfectly. That nail had been driven through the thin partition that separated the rooms completely and now I had my porthole.
That old sense of expectation that had begun in my childhood when I watched that shower stall rose in me once more. I pulled down the shade to my room to shut out all the light possible since the little hole could be used both ways. I took off my jeans, sweater and damp bathing suit and dried myself. Delighting in my own nudity and itchy pussy I didn't put my jeans and sweater back on. In preparation for what I hoped would come I placed the vibrator on my bed.
An hour or so later the front door opened and closed. I heard Henry greet the couple. They were here! I picked up the vibrator and pressed my right eye against the small hole. I couldn't see much of the room or the bed but it was better than nothing.
Ellen appeared, passing before my eye. I heard her pull the shade down and the room grew darker but it was still light enough to see. She returned to my viewport and took off a terry cloth robe. Her man appeared wearing nothing but his trunks. He disappeared and I heard a drawer open and close. "Where are the cigarettes?" he asked flatly.
Ellen took off the bra part of her suit and exposed her high, conical breasts that were capped with nipples darker than her skin. "You've smoked a pack today already, Charley," she chided him. "That's enough."
He returned to my peephole still wearing his trunks and taking no notice at all of the beautiful breasts so close to him. Like many couples they took one another's body for granted. I wasn't that lucky.
Ellen stripped off the rest of her suit and stood facing me. She had a neat triangle of dark pubic hair and I could see the outline the tight swim suit made on her thighs and hips. She turned and showed me her cute rump. Over each butt half was a deep dimple. She dropped her bathing suit and bent over so that I could see her anus clearly. At that moment a dark vision came into view silently. Charley pressed his naked body against her exposed rump in a kidding fashion. "Oh, baby, be glad I'm not Greek!" he laughed.
She unbent and slapped him kiddingly on the face. "No, you don't look Greek to me," she told him.
Ellen walked away leaving the man alone in my sight. He stood with his left side to me as he watched his woman. His limp prick hung dark and long. I clutched at the vibrator.
The black girl reappeared throwing herself across the bed with her ass up. "I'm tired," she complained. "I'm just not used to swimming."
Charley sat on the edge of the bed sideways so that I had an excellent view of his penis and testicles. "Poor baby," he said and ran his black hands over the girl's ass and back.
He massaged her body slowly, lovingly and expertly as if he had done it to her before. Bill had never done that to me. There was something very warm and sensual about a massage. It was little wonder why the vibrator sold to so many women who used it to massage themselves. I rubbed the smooth, rounded head of the dildo over my pussy as I watched the black lovers. , Charley now became aroused and I watched his black tool stiffen and rise. When it was fully erected it didn't seem any larger than Bill's despite the fact that he was a bigger, heavier man. No doubt the myth of black sexual superiority was started by whites who feared Negroes.
Charley licked his girl's vagina and I watched his red, wet tongue lap inside her opening. She kept moaning and squirmed a little. The bed squealed. Now I didn't have to be frustrated with sound.. .I could be frustrated with sight.
He ran his tongue up to her belly and sucked a hickey mark there. Charley knelt on the bed with his knees on each side of her body. I pushed the vibrator into me another inch and placed the base of it against the wall.
"Charley," Ellen asked," do you hear something?"
"He listened for a moment. "Sounds like something electrical from the other room," he said looking towards the peephole.
I caught my breath. They heard my vibrator! I pulled it out of my box and turned it off. The black couple seemed to be frozen for a moment and then the man shrugged. "I hear nothing now," he said and returned to his oral love-making.
I let out my breath slowly. When I had placed the base of the vibrator against the wall I amplified the sound somehow. I was glad I found out about that soon enough. This time I inched the dildo back into my slit without the battery going.
Charley stretched himself out on his woman and guided his aroused stick into her body with his hand. He pushed all the way into her and started pumping. I moved the dildo at the same time, jerking off as he fucked.
"Nice...nice," Ellen sighed as he banged her.
She slipped her hands over his back and held him close as I had done so many times with Bill. There wasn't any differences among the races when it came to sex, obviously. Charley rammed with a faster tempo and she started those orgiastic moans of hers again. He pushed all the way into her and lay there. I could tell by the way the girl's toes curled up that she was receiving her man's sperm.
I pushed all seven inches of my plastic penis into my gash and pressed
myself against the wall. I breathed along with the girl, heavily and filled with lust. When the man pulled out of her his black cock was damp and partially limp. "Oh, baby, you'll be the death of me yet," he told her.
"Yes, but what a lovely way to die," she answered.
I pulled the dildo out of my body and left the peephole. I lay on the bed with my legs spread wide and hoped that some sex fiend would come in and rape me. There was no question about it...I had to find me a real man. This business of peeping and masturbating could only lead to insanity. In was sick. Girls aren't supposed to be Peeping Toms. Peeping Tom was a man. W as it possible that I was already insane?
Once I tried to cover up that peephole so that I would no longer be tempted into voyeurism but it was useless. As soon as I heard someone in the room next door I would press my eye against the tiny hole. Not only didn't I keep it covered but I enlarged it, doubling the size. It still wasn't a big hole but it now had to be twice as visible to the naked eye. Suppose the black couple discovered the hole? Suppose they even found me peeping at them?
The black couple never did find it and they checked out a week after I enlarged the hole. I missed them. Although we had never exchanged a word I felt that I knew them intimately.
The room remained empty for three days and then, one afternoon after a swim, I heard someone stirring next door. I hurried over to the peephole and saw no one for a moment although I knew that room was occupied. A fully clothed figure walked by.. .a somewhat chubby man in his early twenties. He wasn't handsome but that didn't matter. He was something new to look at. I staged through the peephole but he never took off his clothes and he left the room. No matter. There would be other opportunities.
That night I lay in the darkness waiting for a sound. I was about to fall asleep when I heard the door open and close softly. Suddenly a narrow beam of light cut across my room when the man turned his lamp on. I heard shoes striking the floor. When I pressed my eye against the hole I saw the chubby stranger taking off his clothes. When he got to his shorts I was afraid that he would go no further but then off they came.
He had a good-sized prick that was in a relaxed state. The man scratched himself and sat down on the edge of the bed. He took something out of the pockets of his pants. He placed a candle on a chair before him and lit it. He then put something in a spoon and held it over the small flame. I was completely mystified. It was if he were performing some religious rite's.
The chubby stranger held the spoon over the flame for awhile and then poured what ever it was into something that looked like a glass tube. The next thing he did was to place a needle on one end of the tube. With that done he rubbed the crook of one elbow until he brought a vein to surface and then injected the stuff into his arm. A junkie!
I wanted to look away but I was too much of a voyeur for that. I watched the man's face grow soft and dreamy. He lay back against the bed and stared into space with a strange smile on his lips.
This time I stepped away from the viewport. I was so depressed by what I saw that I felt no sexual tingle at all. At any rate the junkie in the next room didn't last long. He moved out four days later. I didn't miss him at all.
I kept hoping that some of the friendly hippies would take the room. Although I found it difficult to start a relationship with any of them I knew I could enjoy one from a distance if only one, a couple or a group would move into my viewport. It was weird. Here I was dying with loneliness and frustration yet I didn't dare find a friend. I was terrified of getting involved with someone who would later betray me.
Once more I heard new voices in the room next to mine. When I gazed through the peephole I smiled. I saw a girl my age and a man in his twenties. The couple didn't look like hippies and were very attractive. From what I gathered of their conversation both went to U.C.L.A. which was a university located nearby. He was a postgraduate student while she was a junior. In the modern world of love and let love such arrangements were common.
When the man took off his clothes he exposed a lean, wiry body and a large, aroused cock. The girl had heavy breasts and a wide can. I was so glad to have "company" again that I forgot myself and started the vibrator. I placed the base of it against the wall and this made the couple part just as he was about to ram into her. "What the hell is that?" the man wanted to know and he looked right into my eye.
I shut the vibrator off and stepped back but it was already too late. He looked through the hole and saw me. "Hey, what the fuck!" he cried. "There's a chick here who's been watching us."
I pulled my clothes on in disgust. Once again I had been discovered doing my crazy thing. The man pounded on the wall. "Come on over here, honey," he offered loudly. "We dig threesomes."
When I didn't answer he dressed and started knocking at my door. I still remained quiet. I burned with mortification. How was I ever going to face them? Finally the man gave up and returned to his room. While all this was going on the girl pasted something over the peephole that I had made. She spoke aloud so that I couldn't help hearing her. "Some chicks are real weird," she cried. "Some can't get a guy of their own so they have to look at men through the walls."
I heard the couple talk about me. The girl insisted that her boyfriend see the owner of the rooming house and complain about me. To my horror he gave into her demands and left the room. A minute later there was another knock on the door. "Miss Dixon," I heard Henry call softly.
There was no use trying to hide in my room. I had to face the issue somehow. When I opened the door I spoke rapidly before anyone could accuse me of anything. "Look, don't get me wrong," I explained. "I just now saw that little hole. When I looked in I saw you two and then stepped back." offered.
I thought I had the situation about licked when the girl saw my vibrator. I had forgotten to put it away. She picked it up and turned it on. "Look, darling," she said to her boyfriend. "It's one of those jerk-off things. Remember when I had one?"
The girl went over to the wall and placed the base end of the vibrator against it. It was too late to make excuses now. They had found out all they needed to know about me. The sound that the girl created was the one that had made them stop in their love-making. I couldn't claim that I just now found that peephole.
"All of you please leave the room," I said without looking up. "I'll pack and go."
Once again the man from next door offered to take me on. "If it's a screwing you want, doll, I'm the best," he said.
His girl led him out of the room but Henry; the balding, oily manager remained. His greasy face became a mask of evil. Now that I had been uncovered as a female voyeur he acted as if he owned me. My sin made me public property. He put his clammy hand on my arm. "You don't have to move," he said. "You don't even have to pay rent. Look, I live alone and know how you feel. You don't have to use that vibrator. I got a cock t that's..."
"Please leave me alone," I cut in and edged away from him.
He sniffed angrily. "Look, kid, I'm being nice when I shouldn't. This is a respectable place and you go around drilling holes in the wall so you can look at people in bed. I should call the cops. What's the matter with you anyhow? You're a pretty girl. You shouldn't have trouble getting laid. You sick or something? You got hang-ups?"
His badgering got on my nerves. "Damn you!" I snapped. "I'm normal. I can make love like anyone else. You want to prove it?"
I took off my sweater and bared my breasts. Henry's eyes bulged out of his ugly face. He was anything but my type yet I had to prove that I was not crazy. I suppose I wanted to prove it more to myself than to anyone else.
When I took off my jeans and stood in front of him start naked it was my turn to needle him. "What's the matter, Henry? Something wrong with you? Can't you get it up?" I asked.
"Baby, you just don't know me," he said and started to strip.
Henry pushed against me and I fell on the bed. While there was nothing wrong with him sexually he had a difficult time gifting into my box because of his weird shape. Finally he did ram his tool in and he started banging away.
I cringed under his assaults and stared hard at the ceiling. Once again my voyeurism had led me into a crummy situation. The boys at the pond raped me and forced me to go down on each of them. Bill took me for every cent I had and made a fool of me, and now this awful creep was thrusting into my body.
Henry kept gasping as he pumped and I thought he was going to have a heart attack right on top of me. When I heard scraping against the other side of the wall I knew that the people I had looked at now were looking at me in action. I stared directly into that small hole and caught the glint of an eye. Now I could prove to them that I was able to fuck like other healthy girls.
"Look at that guy go!" I heard the girl say. "Let's keep this hole and look at everybody else like that chick did."
I stared hard and cold at that eye that I now knew belonged to the girl. She had forced this situation upon me and I wanted to see that she enjoyed it. Henry grunted like a pig and I wrapped my arms and legs around him pretending passion as he shot his load.
"Look at them go!" the girl exclaimed again.
The man's orgasm didn't last long but I hung on to him as if he were the handsomest, most virile thing on earth. When I finally released him he gazed at me with a moist face. "Stay here," he begged. "Stay with me. I'll be good to you."
"Yeah, stay!" the man in the other room called out. "We all can be good friends."
I needed them so badly but suddenly my taste for them had vanished under the weight of the ugly man and the eyes of the young couple. I should've been content to keep love at a safe distance where it wouldn't hurt me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Another move. I didn't go far this time, just to another rooming house on the other end of Venice. I still had to keep expenses down and I couldn't afford anything more elaborate. The only thing I wanted was to get out of that house and away from Henry and his groping, sweaty hands.
My new room was in a house much like the one I left but with a window that overlooked some sand dunes. This made me happy. All I wanted from a window was light and air. I didn't want to see any more people.
I checked the wall and discovered that there were no holes or chinks in it. If a loving couple in the next room drove me wild with their passion I would just have to learn to bear it. When I went to work the next day I was glad I had an outlet for my energies. Maybe if I wore myself I might to sleep the minute I hit the sack.
I had no special goal to work towards so I decided to create one just to give meaning to my day. I decided, like Bill, to buy a second-hand car. He didn't have a bad idea. Driving around the country aimless had a certain charm. At the rate I was saving I figured I could buy a pretty good used car in about another four months. Four months. Then I could quit the restaurant and find a new adventure in a new state.
For the next couple of months I managed to bear my loneliness but sex kept rearing its damned head. Instead of going directly home after work I took to walking around the streets of Los Angles. I was drawn to windows as birds are drawn to worms. I simply had to peep into them. Although I wasn't very successful at finding love in my own life I was sure I could find it in the lives and homes of other people.
At first I tried the big hotels remembering my Kansas City stay. I ignored the front of the buildings and walked around to the backs. People were more inclined to expose themselves when they knew their windows overlooked nothing but alleys.
I found one hotel that was perfect for a voyeur after a two week search. It was a fairly large place in a quiet neighborhood. The rear of the building overlooked a lot so I had plenty of room to "work" in and to escape from if the case would ever arise.
The night was warm which was a good sign for it meant that people would leave their windows open and tend to sleep in the nude. I found a dark spot in the vacant lot next to an overgrown bush. I made a point of wearing black slacks and a dark blouse so I would blend into the nighttime background.
The pickings were good that first time. In one room I saw a nude man stand in front of a mirror admiring himself. Men were such egoists. Even the homely ones thought they were some kind of gods. The one who posed in front of the mirror had a nice body and he obviously thought so himself because his penis was erected. He was aroused by nothing more than his own beauty. He wasn't as handsome as all that but I thought it was a waste. He should be out fucking a girl instead of admiring himself. Yet, who was I to judge anyone...a female voyeur who got her kicks by peeking into windows?
As this Adonis was drinking in his beauty a couple in the floor below him were pawing at one another. They were homely and middle-aged but they acted like a couple of kids finding sex for the first time. The man grabbed the woman's tits and she giggled. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I didn't dare get closer to the windows. Suddenly she opened his fly and pulled out his dick. She giggled again and led him around the apartment. They disappeared from one window and then reappeared in the next. The couple repeated this merry-go-round a few times getting more naked all the time. Finally they decided to get to it. The man pressed the woman against a couch and I watched his rump go up and down until he came.
There was another scene going on in still another room. This was on the top floor. There was no light in the place but a nude girl was standing at the window so it was easy to see her. She seemed to be alone. She kept cupping her hands under her breasts and dropping them. At first I thought she was a nut who was about to jump but then I realized that she was simply another hung-up chick who got her jollies in her own way. By exposing her body to the night where she was certain no one could see her, the girl got a certain charge out of life. I was tempted to give her the room number over the hard-up guy who got his kicks by exposing himself.. .to himself. . .in front of a mirror.
I waited in that lot until the girl left the window and the Adonis turned off his light. The middle-aged couple seemed to have lost their steam and were fully clothed now drinking coffee. I left the lot and experienced a degree of relief instead of frustration. I had discovered that other young people were as alone and as unhappy as I was.
I sometimes started wandering around the city right after work because I didn't have to make a round-trip to Venice all the time. Once the sun went down I went window-shopping.
Private homes offered some delights. While walking down an alley behind a row of houses I looked down into a basement and saw a nude man sleeping on a cot. His penis was limp and rested against his body like a snake. The fellow was a couple of years older than I was and very good looking. The only light came from a small T.V. set which he probably had been looking at before he fell asleep. The blue-gray light flickered across his wonderful body and I crouched down to get a better look at him. Was he married? Did he have a lot of girlfriends? Was he a good lover? I asked myself these questions as I studied his naked body and his sleeping sex.
Then a door opened a few houses down. "Hey, you!" someone shouted.
I ran quickly. With my voyeur's costume of black slacks and dark blouse I escaped into the darkness of the night. This didn't stop the one who had seen me from giving chase. "Hey, mister!" he shouted.
Mister? He hadn't had a good look at me after all. It was naturally assumed that all prowlers were males. When I reached the end of the alley I slowed down and tried to act as calm as possible. There was a loud pounding of feet behind me. A man rushed by and he stopped when he didn't see anyone in front of him. He looked at me and I felt my stomach turn into a knot. "Say, miss," he asked, "did a guy come running past you?"
"Yes," I said with a straight face. "He jumped in a car and took off like a bandit."
The man nodded. "That's just what he was," he told me. "The streets aren't safe at night. You'd better get home as quickly as possible."
I promised him that I would and tried not to hurry off. I had always thought I couldn't act but I managed well in the role of innocent bystander. This was the first time I had been caught in the act of voyeurism and had gotten away with it. I was becoming a more experienced Peeping Tom as the months went by.
The day came when I felt I had enough to buy a used car. Every voyeur needed mobility. I bought a five-year old compact for six hundred dollars and felt a keen sense of freedom as I drove about the city. The only trouble was that it tapped me out so I couldn't afford to quit my job as I had hoped. The next pile of cash I got together was going to be run-away money. This time no Bill was going to try to cheat me out of it.
I widened my scope of voyeurism via the car. It wasn't the greatest auto in the world but it did get me to places I had never been to before. I traveled up through Malibu and glanced into the windows of the beach houses that floated by. People who lived next to the beach usually dressed in bathing suits or else were either getting into them or getting out of them. I had Venice as proof of that.
The trouble with Malibu was that I couldn't get too close to the beach houses. A stranger was spotted immediately in the sparsely populated area. That's when I bought that thing no voyeur should do without.. binoculars.
The binoculars gave me an even wider scope. With that and the car I was really in business. Binoculars were useful in the daytime because a Peeping Tom could stay hidden far away from the scene he is observing. At night the binoculars weren't too useful unless you got a brightly lit window in your scope. This didn't matter because at night I liked close-in work anyhow. The binoculars just gave me a much greater freedom in the daylight hours and I exploited it.
My first big thrill with the binoculars came when I was cruising around the hilly section around Malibu. I passed one house that looked like it had a party going on since there were many cars parked out in front. I parked my six-hundred dollar chariot in a wooded area just above the house and trained my binoculars on the house. I looked right into a huge, bay window and saw what appeared to be a nudist convention. Mena and women were drinking cocktails in the nude and some were dancing genital-to-genital. I had been hearing about nude parties ever since I came to California and now I was actually seeing one in action.
It wasn't a young crowd. At least half the people seemed to be over forty and there was one old duffer with gray hair and a pot belly who had to be pushing seventy. I spotted a fat woman who had to be over two hundred pounds who waddled around with her huge, drooping boobs bouncing and her downish ass all awiggle. I couldn't see where she got the nerve to expose such a body to anyone.
I fixed my scope on the most attractive man at the nude party. He was in his thirties and he was built like a lifeguard. He had a rich tan that covered all but the area usually hidden by bathing trunks. This paleness made his prick, balls and ass, seem all the more attractive. He was talking to a woman who had to be fifty if she were a day. She wore nothing but sunglasses and four rings. As she spoke to the handsome man she stroked his penis lovingly. The nude party was becoming a sex party. I had to put my binoculars away when a couple of kids walked by. They glanced at me as if wondering what I was doing sitting in a parked car all by myself. When they passed by I lifted the binoculars to my eyes and peered through that big, bay window. That lifeguard-type and the older woman were not in the same place. I looked for them peering into this window and that one until I saw them on a small sun deck.
The woman had a sloppy figure and I couldn't imagine what the man saw in her. From my distance I had the idea that he was a gigolo and she was his "client."
The naked man stood there with his hands on his hips the perfect picture of the spoiled man who was used to having all sorts of acts performed upon him. She was a sex-hungry bitch and she clamped her painted nails deep against his lean hips as she took almost the entire tube of flesh orally. When she brought her face back so that all she held was the head of his cock I could see the shiny wetness her spit had left on the rest of his meat. The woman leaned forward again. Because the man had developed a full erection now she was only able to take half the sex tube.
I watched as she fellated her lover, her profile moving back and forth along his pecker. When she stopped moving I knew that he was shooting his load. The woman stroked his firm rump as he came and he just stood there smiling, hands on his hips. When she pulled her mouth away completely she looked up at him and spoke a few words. I decided to take up lip-reading on the spot. The man said something and then she opened her mouth very wide to take in his hanging testicles.
My breathing became labored as I stared through the binoculars. Sweat poured down my face even though there was a cool breeze blowing. The dumpy, fifty-year old woman kept mouthing the man's balls until I began to think she was trying to castrate him by sucking. Finally she broke contact again. The couple left the sun deck. A moment later they were back in the big room talking as if they had just popped out for a smoke.
I had given up the hope that I would see anything worth looking at from my own window back at the rooming house but I soon discovered how wrong I was. I was looking through the binoculars one hot, sunny afternoon on my day off when I caught of flash of nudity. When I focused my binoculars I saw three young men with long hair and beards sunbathing in a tiny valley created by the sand dunes. They were on their stomachs with their bare cans up. Their skins were very pale and I gathered that they had just arrived in Southern California and wanted to sop up the fabled sun as quickly as possible. They rubbed tanning oil on each other's body and they seemed to be talking. I watched them for a full half hour before they decided to turn over and bake the other side. They oiled up their bodies again and lay back shielding their eyes against the sun. I studied their pricks. They were all well-endowed and unerect.
I met the same boys again later on that day. I was shopping in one of the local stores when they came in to buy a couple of six-packs of beer. One of them with a short, blond beard tried to pick me up. "You live around here?" he asked.
Despite the fact that I had been looking at his naked body for a full hour I reacted to his overture in my usual shy way. I simply nodded and hurried out of the store. I cursed myself for not being friendlier but I had too many bad experiences with closeness.
The trio of new hippies shared a pad a hundred feet or so from my rooming house. They also shared a battered car that made mine look like a Rolls Royce. It had Ohio license plates. I hoped that the boys were not planning to leave right away because they were making a habit of sunning themselves in the nude in that same spot. I even took off a day of work just to watch them. Their pale skins turned into golden tans except for the blond boy. He was the kind who burnt and he had to drop out of the daily sunning session.
Since I knew the boys were from Ohio I accepted them as my own type. . .rubes living in a slicker world. With this in common I should've joined them in their nude sunbathing but, alas, a couple of other chicks beat me to it. I was surprised one day when I saw two girls with them in that little valley a hundred feet from my window. All five of them had just come from the beach and were wet. The blond boy peeled off his trunks and revealed his prick. The girls looked at one another and giggled. I assumed that the boys had led the chicks into their secret spot with promises of advancing their sexual education.
The other two boys took off their trunks and one of them had an erection. All three lads then tried to get the girls to strip. One of them finally took off the bra part of her suit and showed a really lovely pair of tits. Her breasts were of average size for her age but they jutted out proudly high on her body. All three of the boys placed their hands on them. The other girl, seeing the attention her friend was getting, took off the bra part of her swim suit. Her breasts were bigger and rounder than her companion's but they were somewhat pendulant. This didn't stop the lads from patting and kissing these globes of flesh. Now all three boys had rip-roaring hard-ons and I thought I was going to see a sex orgy until I discovered that I wasn't the only voyeur watching them.
At the summit of one of the sand dunes lay a tubby, middle-aged man in wet bathing trunks. I assumed that he had seen the boys and girls go off to the sand dunes and had followed knowing what they were going to do. After so many years of being a Peeping Tom I had finally met a fellow sickie.
The girls were about to pull down the bottom halves of their bathing suits when they looked around to see if they were really alone. The Peeping Tom ducked as they looked in his direction but it was too late. The girls put the bra parts of their suits on and rushed off. The middle-aged man hurried away in the opposite direction while the naked boys stood there boiling with frustration. I was angry with that voyeur for spoiling what could have been a fun session.
The following day that little valley was empty. It was obvious that the boys didn't even want to sun themselves there alone knowing that it had been discovered by a dirty old man. I went out to the beach and found the Ohio hippies drinking beer out of cans along with their new girl friends. I could hear them talk so I placed my blanket nearby and pretended to be engrossed in a paperback novel I had brought along.
"Peeping Toms!" one of the girls was saying. "They should all be put away."
For a fearful moment I thought she was talking about me until I realized they were discussing what had happened at the dunes.
"Voyeurs are really harmless," the blond boy told her. "They get their kicks from looking. They don't go near women."
"Why don't they?" the girl demanded. "Are they scared?"
"I remember one old boy back home who went around looking into windows," the blond lad went on. "He was married and he had three kids. His woman was putting out and she was nice ass but he still liked to prowl around looking through windows at other chicks."
"All any Peeping Tom needs is some pussy," another boy insisted.
"It's not all that simple," the blond told him. "A lot of voyeurs get all the pussy they want but they still have to look at other girls. It is the same with rapists. You'd be surprised how many of them are married or have girl friends. People thing guys rape because they can't get laid any other way. That isn't so. A rapist is sick. He doesn't attack women because he loves them but because he hates them. A voyeur is sick, too, in the same way. Peeping Toms are not violent like rapists but the sickness is there all the same. Something in their childhoods twisted them so they could only get a charge of watching others but never getting close to them."
"Listen to the professor!" one of the bearded hippies laughed. "He had a semester of psychology at college and he's been sounding like a shrink ever since."
All five of them joined in the laughter while I stared hard at the sand under my nose.
"Hey, what about female voyeurs!" one of the girls asked.
"There are no female Peeping Toms," the blond fellow said. "Women just don't go around looking at men through windows."
"I couldn't take it anymore. All that psychological talk about voyeurism gave me a headache. I gathered in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment.
"Your book!" he shouted.
I looked down and realized I had left my paperback novel behind on the sand. When I turned I saw the handsome blond lad rush over to me all smiles. He handed me the book and said, "Come over and join us. We need an extra girl."
His smile was warm and inviting. On any other day I would've joined the crowd of kids who were around my age but my headache was real and painful. The boy had already pegged me as a mental case with his talk about voyeurism. No, not really. He claimed that female voyeurs didn't exist at all. On this bias I had to be invisible to him. I ignored his offer and returned to my lonely, empty room. Once again I had rejected the hand of friendship. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could only enjoy sex by keeping it at a distance through binoculars. I felt so full of self-disgust that I threw myself across the bed and cried. Peeping Tom. Voyeur. Mental Case. Sickie. Why couldn't I love like everyone else anyhow?
CHAPTER SIX
I threw away my vibrator. I drove out to a lonely spot on Malibu and flung the fucking thing into the Pacific Ocean were it might be of some use to a hard-up mermaid. I told myself that masturbation and voyeurism were behind me. Once I let go of the vibrator I felt better because I was sure than I could cure myself of my weird ways.
My plan was beautifully simple... .I was going to force myself into all kinds of sexual affairs and thereby burn out that sick drive that forced me to prowl around at night looking into windows. The cure hunger was food; the cure for sexual repression was sexual expression. I was determined to get as close to males as was possible and stay close until I was weird no more.
I didn't throw away my binoculars because I told myself that I could use them for "normal" viewings. Besides, the thing represented three days work while the vibrator only cost me a few bucks. I didn't mind dramatic gestures. . .as long as I could afford them.
When I drove back to Venice I was determined to accept the offer of friendship from the Ohio hippies. As I passed their rooming house I saw them putting bags into their old car. I stopped a block away and watched them through my rear-view mirror. The girls weren't with them as it looked like they were pulling up stakes and heading for greener pastures. As they drove off I felt my heart sink. Once again my timing wrong. I had decided to cooperate with love too late.
Still, as an attractive teenage girl I didn't have to worry about being lonely...not if I really wanted affection. The hippies in the area hung out in certain spots and all I had to do was hang around with them. I picked a sunny day and walked over to a section of the beach that was always filled with boys my age and older. I placed my blanket nearby and stripped down to my bathing suit. I could feel the boys looking at me and I was sure that they were getting ideas.
"Would you like a beer?" I heard someone ask a minute later.
When I introduced myself he offered to carry my blanket over to his crowd of young people. I accepted. It was all that simple. I was sure that my fears about getting involved with people were unfounded. Jerry shared an apartment with three of the boys and one of the girls. I didn't ask who the girl belonged to because such personal questions were frowned upon among hippies. All one had to do was keep his eyes and ears open and knowledge would come.
I accepted Jerry's offer to join him and his roommates at their communal apartment. It was a pretty messy place and I scolded him for not keeping it clean. "You should see my room," I told him.
He patted my butts. "Anytime," he said.
He was beginning his move, I thought. All I had to do was be passive and accept his overtures. Love, like knowledge, would come to those who waited.
Nick, a short, wiry guy with curly black hair said, "Tea time." He opened up a can and poured what looked like tobacco into a saucer. When the others took pinches of it and shook it into strips of paper I realized that the "tea" he talked about was marijuana.
I knew that I didn't dare refuse the offer of my first marijuana cigarette and pretended that I was used to pot parties. Jerry rolled me a "roach" and handed it over. He struck a match, touched it to the end of the hand-made cigarette, and I inhaled.
At first I felt nothing and thought that maybe I was smoking real tobacco. Then I began to get light-headed. It was as if I had taken a quick shot of whiskey.
Blue smoke filled the apartment and my whole body began to feel delightfully numb. I leaned against Jerry's sturdy frame and he put his arms around me. "I've seen you around but I always figured you were stuck-up or married or something," he said.
"I'm a working girl," I told him.
Jerry stroked my hair. "Why do you work?" he asked.
'To live. To eat. To pay rent," I informed him lazily.
He crushed me to him. "You can live and eat here," he offered. "You don't even have to pay rent."
The boy was propositioning me already. He was a fast, smooth worker. I had looked for a new lover and now I had found one. Jerry told me that he was a postgraduate student at U.C.L.A. and was only going to school because it kept him from being drafted. His parents sent him money each month and he didn't have to do an honest hour's work. His life consisted of going to a few classes and then loafing, loving and smoking pot. He was now offering me the same life.
As high as I was on beer and pot I knew that I had reached another one of those crossroads in my life. I could play it safe and turn him down or I could risk my emotions again and accept him. I had lost that handsome blond boy because I had played it safe and now I didn't want to lose Jerry the same way. When I told him that I would move in he kissed me tenderly on the lips "It'll be fun, you'll see," he assured me.
The other didn't seem surprised when Jerry told them that I was going to be the new roommate and I got the impression they were used to people drifting in and out of the place. Now that I was "one of the family" Paul and Helen dared display their mutual affection. The boy took off her sweater and the top part of her bathing suit. He licked her breasts which were firm and shapely with pink nippies. Helen was about my age and she had a nice face and figure. I was glad that she was in the apartment for I feared another gang-bang.
Paul sucked her nipples and she groped at his fly. I had watched such sex scenes secretly but now I could watch without fear of being caught. I didn't mind indulging my voyeuristic leanings now since it didn't make any sense to cover my eyes.
Ronald and Nick, the other two boys who shared the apartment, smoked pot casually and they didn't seem all that interested in the lovers. I was sure that they, like the rest, were used to seeing love in bloom. That's the attitude I wanted. I wanted to be casual about sex so that I didn't have to go around pressing my ears against the walls of cheap rooming houses and sneaking looks through my binoculars. I wanted to flood my sense with so much sex that my needs to masturbate and stare were drowned.
Paul mounted Helen. Their feet were pointed at me so I could see up their legs at the actual coupling of genitals. That big red prick sank into the girl's hairy slit and vanished. His nuts shook as he rose and fell into her again and again. As he was fucking her Jerry slipped one of his hands under my blouse and tugged at the bra part of my swim suit. As always I was passive. I let him remove my blouse and bra. When my tits were exposed Nick and Ronald shifted their eyes from the lovers over to me. I wondered, or was I to be Jerry's chick exclusively? At the moment I didn't care. For a girl who had satisfied eight boys at one time the idea of group sex didn't shock me.
"Dig! Dig! Dig!" Helen gasped in passion as her lover rammed into her body.
Nick and Ronald, like two guys at a tennis match, switched their eyes back to the other players. The couple on the bed were close to their climax. Jerry placed his hands over my tits and squeezed them. "You're nice and firm," he whispered. "I hate sloppy boobs."
I decided that I shouldn't be passive all the time so I grabbed his crotch. "I like my men to be nice and firm here, too," I told him.
"Nick!" Helen cried out as he pressed against her and had an orgasm.
For a moment the apartment was silent as we all watched this peak of passion. The couple breathed hard and embraced one another. Their mouths opened and they licked each other's tongue.
The two doe-less stags sitting on the floor puffing away on pot switched their attention to me again. In a very real way they were voyeurs but I doubted that they went around looking into windows as I had. For years I had been doing the looking and now I was going to be the object of lookers. I suppose I was as much of an exhibitionist as I was a voyeur because the fact that I was going to be stared at thrilled me.
I stood up to give everyone a good look. Even Helen who was on the bed with a naked boy on top of her watched. I took off my slacks and then the lower half of my swim suit. My cunt tingled with expectation. I could all but feel the weight of the eyes that were on that spot.
"You got a winner this time, Jerry," Helen told him.
Jerry pressed me gently against the floor. He was going to screw me right then and there in front of everyone. He placed his body against mine and I felt the knobby head of his dick penetrate my sex-hole. It wasn't as big or as hard as the head of that vibrator but it was warm, alive and human.
He pushed the entire length of his tool all the way into my body and started rutting away. I grabbed his pumping ass and pushed up against him. I wanted to prove that I was an active lover and not just a piece of meat you threw your cock into.
Nick and Ronald started to take off their clothes as Jerry banged me. Both were sexually aroused. Nick went over to Helen and she took him into her arms without question as Paul sat up on the bed and lit another roach. So that was the way things were; swapping was the order of the day at the apartment. It was no wonder the boys needed another girl. I was sure that Helen was the one who was most glad to see me since she had the only pussy in the joint. Well, I had wanted to flood my senses with sex and that's exactly what I was getting.
"Lorna. . .Lorna," Jerry sighed as he shot his load of come.
I heard Helen issue small cries of sexual delight as the small, dark boy screwed her. The she let loose a long moan and Nick stopped pumping.
Ronald thrust into me a few more times and then stopped. His come poured out of his body and I moaned to let everyone know that the mission was completed. All the boys had had their piece of tail.
The six of us lit fresh sticks of pot and sat around naked looking at one another.
I placed my head into Jerry's lap and felt his limp dick under me. Ronald, the cute kid with the curls, placed my legs over his lap as he sat against the wall. Helen was sitting up in bed with her legs spread very wide so that I could actually see her rose-red clitoris. Nick and Paul were resting their heads on her legs. Paul kept fingering one of her nipples as he puffed away at his stick of marijuana.
"You're one of us now, honey." Helen told me. "Welcome to the family."
I actually felt tears welling in my eyes. After so many months of loneliness I was a part of something again. I had friends. I had lovers. I didn't have to go prowling around at night staring into the lives and beds of others anymore. I had tried to make myself believe that it was best not to get involved intimately with people but now I realized that I had only been deluding myself. Sex in the hand was better than sex beyond a window. Out of sheer gratitude for these people who welcomed me to their midst I rolled over so that my mouth was against Jerry's penis. I took his sex orally and sucked. Ronald kissed my ass at the time and I gloried in the warmth of these two naked boys. "I told you she was a winner, Jerry," Helen said again as I blew him.
Marijuana smoke drifted past my nostrils and I inhaled it as I drank in the juice that came leaping out of Jerry's erected dick. His semen flooded my whole being as I had wanted to be flooded. Drown, voyeur, drown! Die strange desire and let a new woman rise on your grave!
CHAPTER SEVEN
A lady of leisure; a daughter of joy. I hadn't enjoyed so much free time since that first week in California when I waited for my money to get so scarce I had no other choice but to bust my hump in some dumb job. With four different boys supporting me I didn't have to move a muscle. Still, my sense of neatness made me clean up the apartment much to the delight of the others. I was an asset to the sexy little group. Helen, the only other girl, was terribly lazy and she had to strain herself to wash a cup out. The boys neglected the household chores because they considered it woman's work....which it was. They as well as Helen were happy to see that I willingly took on the job as chief cook and bottle washer.
Since I didn't have to go to work the boys used the car to drive to school and back. They bought all the gas and oil and also made some minor repairs. Like all men they took a special pleasure in machines.
The old woman who ran the rooming house wasn't a bit like the old women I knew back home. She didn't care what went on in the apartments as long as the rent was paid. For this reason she didn't mind all the extra guests that crowded into the small pad which had originally been rented by Jerry and another girl. After she left Jerry invited Helen in. When she couldn't provide any of the rent money he brought in Ronald, an undergraduate in need of sex and a place to stay. By offering the ever-willing Helen as an inducement the student was only too happy to carry his end of the rent bill. Then, in the casual, transient, drifting world of the hippie, more guests were added to the group. At one time there had been an even ratio of males to females but the girls went off to less crowded apartments leaving Helen as the sole Eve in the Garden of Eden with more than enough Adams to take care of. That's when I came in. Even though I didn't have money to offer the boys didn't care since my body.. .and my car.. .were enough to satisfy their wants.
When the boys were at U.C.L.A. I went swimming with Helen. It was unusual for me to have a female companion and I realized how starved I was for girl talk. I found out that the girl had run away from home two years ago and had been sleeping around ever since. She tried work for just two weeks and gave it up. "Why work for a living when you don't have to?" she asked me. ''This town is full of guys who'll set you up in an apartment and only ask you to fuck them now and then."
Helen made my relationship with the boys sound like prostitution and I resented it. A whore sells her body to men she doesn't like while I willingly gave mine to the boys I really cared for. When I told her this she was unimpressed. "That's what they all say, honey," she said in a bored tone.
Now that I had lived with the boys for awhile I was somewhat possessive of them. "Just how many other girls lived at the apartment?" I wanted to know.
"I lost count. They keep coming and going," she said. "Some never last more than a night while others stick around for a month or so. Me, I'm an old-timer. I've been at the dump for nine weeks."
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It all seemed so vague. No one had deep, lasting relationships anymore, it appeared. The nearest thing I ever had to such an affair was with Bill and he turned out to be a thief who had only been using me. I hoped that I wasn't being used again.
Helen candidly told me that she planned to become a hooker. "All I get from this bunch is room and board," she said. "On the street I can get ten and twenty bucks easily for what I'm doing now. Why don't we pair up, Lorna? Between the two of us we could bring in a couple of hundred bucks a day."
I tried to tell myself that the girl was just pulling my leg and ignored her. But it was difficult to ignore a girl you lived with twenty-four hours a day. I had entered the group because II wanted and needed companionship but Helen never let me alone when the boys were not there. I figured that, like me, she needed another girl around so as not to be overwhelmed by the male world we lived in. But, after a few days, she began to reveal her true interest in me.
We had come from the beach and had removed our swim suits in the apartment. When we were both naked Helen placed her hands over my breasts. "You're such a pretty girl, Lorna," she told me softly and lovingly. "Girls have such beautiful bodies and boys are so ugly."
"Helen, that's sound so.. .so.. . .," I stammered.
"Queer?" she said ending my statement. "Honey, don't you know that everyone is a bit queer to some extent? Haven't you ever made love to another girl?"
She moved in against me and our nipples met. Hers erected and I felt mine beginning to engorge with lust. I recalled all the times I looked at nude females with more than passing interest. I remembered that beautiful black girl who had left so unexpectedly. Yes, I suppose there was some homosexuality in everyone's makeup. But I felt that Helen had more than her share. If anything I was convinced that her homosexuality was greater than her heterosexuality. Prostitutes were this way, too, I heard. Since the girl talked so glibly about selling her body maybe she was another Lesbian who, while selling her body to men, reserved her affections for women.
The young girl slipped her hands down to my hips and ground her torso against mine. I didn't exactly welcome her advances but I didn't reject them, either. What was so awful about two members of the same sex loving one another? I had joined the hippie group in search of all kinds of sensation and homosexuality was one thing I've never had.
She seemed proud of the fact that she had been the first female ever to have me. I hated to tell her that, while there was some degree of excitement in homosexuality, I was really too straight too appreciate it. I didn't say anything because Helen seemed to be enjoying my body so. She sucked my nipples and, in my search for sensation, I sucked hers. We kissed and licked one another for an hour or so before we decided to break it up. The boys were due back soon.
Paul and Ronald came in and found us naked but not in one another's arms. Paul slipped his arms around me and fingered my slit. "I've been dreaming of your box all day, sweetheart," he told me.
The boys took off their clothes. Once again Paul pressed his slight body against mine. He slipped his erected penis between my butt halves and probed against my anus. Bill had Greeked me a few times but I cared as little for that particular sensation as I did for Lesbianism. Even with lubrication anal intercourse was uncomfortable if not painful. Today Paul seemed to want to sodomize me. I wanted to tell the boy to forget it but I didn't want to give Helen the impression that, like her, I disliked any and all kinds of sexual expressions from males.
"I'll take it easy," the boy assured me and lubricated his lust-stiff rod with a pad of butter. He pushed some of the butter inside my anus and then inched into me. I leaned forward and held on to the edge of a table for support as the boy slipped his throbbing tool into my body. Helen and Ronald paused in their love-making to watch. They walked over to the table and stared down at the sexual connection.
"Just another inch," Paul assured me.
The boy rammed this last inch hard by grabbing my shoulders, forcing me into an upright position and arching into me. I cried aloud. This somewhat sadistic sex act aroused Ronald to the point where he thrust his erected pecker into my slit and I found myself sandwiched between two males. This seemed to be my day for unique positions.
As Paul pulled back Ronald pushed forward. Then Helen had a bright idea. She wanted the boys to remain still while I moved back and forth. The fellows went for it and I, with no other choice in the matter, moved back and forth between a foot of cock. First I pushed my vagina against one boy and then I pushed my ass against another. I moved back slowly because my poor rump was not used to Greek love.
Jerry and Nick picked that moment to enter. They joined Helen as an audience and watched the private stag show, live and in color. Paul began to shoot his load. I was glad because it meant that now his penis would become soft. Ronald climaxed a few seconds later and I sighed with relief. In the midst of this two-way orgy I assured myself that it was all for the best; the more sex I got personally, the less need I would have to masturbate and peep at others.
The two boys pulled out of me announcing that it had been a most interesting moment of passion. They made it look and sound so good that Jerry and Nick wanted to sandwich me in between them. I agreed only if Nick brought up the rear. He had the smallest penis in the house.
After I satisfied the second pair I put on my clothes and announced that my particular meat counter was closed for the day. Within an hour I had had sex with four boys and one girl. So much sex had been thrown at me that I found myself, at that moment, more than a bit bored by the sight of the naked human body. Yes, I thought happily, the Peeping Tom inside me was being drowned for good.
My heterosexual display didn't discourage Helen. She insisted that we had everything in common. She kept urging me to leave the boys, take an apartment of our own and then hustle. It got so that I dreaded being alone with her. "Why don't you just leave now and hustle?" I told her annoyed by her advances.
When she pressed her lips against mine I pushed her away angrily. "Let's get this straight...I'm no queer!" I snapped. "I only gave in that other day to see what it was like. Well, I no like...is that coming through that sick mind of yours?"
It was then I learned that a woman scorned is a terrible thing. This is especially true in the world of the Lesbian. Helen didn't crawl into a shell after my outburst but, rather, she was on me like a tigeress. She clawed my face and screamed. "Bitch! Slut! You're mine!" she howled.
I was no match for her and rushed out of the door bleeding. She chased me down the street and screamed that she owned me and that no one else could have my body. Venice, a casual town to say the least, was shocked by the roaring of an enraged dyke. I finally found refuge in the apartment of some hippies I knew and they all seemed amused by the incident. A skinny, bearded fellows gave me a reefer to calm my nerves. "Never get involved with a Lesbian," he warned. "They can't stand being rejected."
"I'm not going back until that dyke is gone," I assured him. "Things will be all right then."
"I don't mean just the girl," Red told me. "I'm talking about the guys, too."
"They're nice boys," I responded hotly. "Why are you putting down?"
The bearded hippie shook his head sadly. "They just haven't turned on you yet," he warned. 'They like to lead a chick along and then start their fun and games."
Despite the fact that I was numbed by three reefers I suddenly became alert. "What are you talking about?" I demanded.
"They're sadists. They like to torture girls," Red answered with a straight face. "That bunch is high on pain and the works of Marquis de Sade. They like to get innocent young girls and .. ."
"Stop that shit!" I said abruptly.
Red shook his head sadly again. "Have you ever wondered why there is such a turnover in girls at that apartment?" he asked.
"Helen has been there for a long time," I informed him.
"Sure, that's becuase she's one of the boys," He replied. "They don't make a victim out of her since she belongs to the sick group. They use her to seduce girls into homosexuality. You're lucky to be out of that place. I can tolerate anything except hurting others. That's why I'm telling you all this."
Jerry found out where I was hiding and informed me that Helen was now gone and that this left me the queen of the house. Red shook his head in his usual way when I left as if in final warning.
For the rest of that day and the next I enjoyed the freedom of being without the aggressive Lesbian. I forgot about Red's warning about the boys until, one evening after dinner, the walls of the apartment started to dissolve! The paint ran first and then the plaster beneath it. An atomic bomb? Were we being attacked? I clutched at Jerry's hand. "The walls!" I gasped in horror.
He grinned at me. His teeth seemed huge and white like tombstones. All the boys were smiling, too. I couldn't understand it. Had they gone mad?
I jumped up on the table and shivered in fright. Something was happening to the world and I was the only one who seemed to care. Great bugs began to crawl through the melting walls and I screamed. Hands grabbed me and pulled me off the table. The boys were laughing among themselves. "It really hit her," Nick exclaimed.
"The bugs! The bugs!" I shouted.
"How is it that chicks always see bugs when they get some acid?" Ronald asked.
Acid? Was that what was dissolving the walls? Then, in my confused condition I realized that they had slipped me some LSD. I was wide awake but I was caught in a nightmare. The bugs, the tombstone teeth, the melting walls all looked very real to me. "Jerry! Help!" I implored.
He picked me up in his arms. "Sure, we'll help you, baby doll," he said.
I felt my clothes being torn off. When I was naked my nipples appeared to be turning into worms. I pressed my hands against them as if trying to kill the creatures. There was an explosion of light. Another atom bomb? Desperately I tried to get my senses back for I knew that none of this was real. I then saw Paul with a camera in his hand. It was a Polaroid with a flash attachment. They were taking pictures of me in my crazed state. "Help me!" I implored them. "Get me out of this!"
The boys laughed. The walls dissolved completely revealing rows of old bones behind them. I was certain that the boys killed their girls. That's where they all went to. I kept crying and screaming as the boys tied my arms and legs with their leather belts. Then blackness came.
Jerry grunted and sat up. He was naked. He walked over to the sink and turned on the water. He placed the glass on the table and then picked me up and dumped me in a chair. Since my arms were tied I couldn't reach the water. "You flipped out last night, Lorna," he told me. "We had to restrain you."
"Acid," I said. "You put LSD in my food."
"Lorna," he sighed, "you must be paranoid. I think I'll write home to your parents. See, I have the envelope all ready."
He showed me a stamped envelope with my parent's name and address on it. Sometime during my stay at the house I had given it to them. Jerry opened the envelope and took out several Polaroid pictures. He placed them on the table before me. As he did the other boys got out of their beds to enjoy the sadistic fun and games. Red, it seemed, had been right after all. The pictures were of a nude, wild-looking girl in various pornographic positions alone with Jerry.
It had happened to me again. I found myself in a messy situation and wanted to get as far away from these sick people as I could and as quickly as possible.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I drove aimlessly without direction with the sole intention of putting as many miles between myself and Helen as possible in the shortest time. When the gas gauge came very close to the "empty" mark I suddenly realized that I didn't have a cent to my name. So, instead of driving into a gas station I went to the next used-car lot where a man offered me two hundred dollars for an auto I had spent six hundred dollars to buy a few months ago. I managed to squeeze another fifty bucks out of the sport and took a cab to the bus terminal. I just had to leave Los Angeles. I couldn't bring myself to spend another night in the city.
When I walked into the terminal I heard an announcer state that a bus was about to leave for Phoenix, Arizona. That seemed far enough away from L.A. so I bought a one-way ticket.
I hated the idea of working in another restaurant so I shopped around until I found a job as file clerk for an insurance office. It paid a minimum wage but I accepted it anyhow. When I saw that almost all my co-workers were going to be females of various ages I felt at ease. I wouldn't be meeting a man who would turn out to be a thief like Bill or a sadist like Jerry. Of course, I could always meet a dyke like Helen but nothing was perfect.
I took a room at a cheap hotel and, as always, checked my view. All I could see was a parking lot and a distant skyline. Maybe this was a good omen. Maybe my life was at a turning point.
My nineteenth birthday came and went. In another year I would leave my teen years. In still another year I would officially become an adult. I wanted to hurry up and get older. The more years I had on me the less vulnerable I would feel.
My social life in Phoenix was almost nil, but this didn't bother me. After servicing four boys and one girl back in L.A. I had enough memories to chew on. I did go to the company dance, though, where I met Borden. He was an insurance agent in his mid-twenties, single and considered to be a "catch" by the other girls. Borden was too smooth for me. He was used to girls fawning over him and, because I didn't, I think this is what attracted him to me.
The young man offered to drive me home. As soon as we got into the car he suggested we go to his place for a "nightcap." I wondered how many girls he got into his place with that corny old line. Yet, after six months of avoiding men, I wanted to see if I had any fires left. It was possible they had all been put out in my attempt to "drown" my voyeuristic compulsions through a massive dose of experience.
Borden had a nice apartment and it reminded me of all the lonely hotel rooms I had been living in since leaving home. He handed me a brandy and I sipped. In another minute he had an arm around me as we sat on the couch. "A girl with your looks shouldn't be living alone," he said.
"You live alone," I reminded him.
He gave me a playboy wink. "Not always," he grinned.
Borden kissed me lightly on the lips. When I didn't object he pressed himself against me and groped for my breasts. "Don't," I told him. "I'd like to go back to my room now."
"Am I coming on too strong for our first date?" he wanted to know.
By the way he phrased that question he was implying that there were going to be more dates to follow with the possibility that I'd land in his bed sooner or later. I let him think that just to get out of his apartment with my virtue and his ego still intact. When I stood up to go I noticed that his bedroom window overlooked an empty building. Click. Something snapped on in my head. Only a voyeur would think about something like that. Shit! Was it starting to happen again?
As Borden drove me back to my hotel he passed that deserted building directly across the street from his apartment. A Peeping Tom could have a field day or night there since he would be hidden from view and the people in the apartment would be careless about pulling down shades since they would expect no one to be looking at them from the empty structure. I felt my palms moisten. No, there were fires still burning inside me but they were the wrong kind. While I didn't want the young man to love me I felt a strong urge to watch him make love to others.
That Saturday night I paced my hotel room. Borden and the blonde were out on a date and I was sure that he would take her to his apartment for a "nightcap." I was like a junkie trying to shake off his need for a fix as I forced myself to stay in my room. Then, as so many junkies had done, I gave up the struggle and went out into the night looking for my special brand of dope.
Borden's car wasn't parked near the building and the lights to his apartment were out. I figured that he hadn't come home yet and slipped and slipped into the empty building across the way. Once inside the dusty hall I paused and listened. Tramps liked to sleep in these deserted structures and I didn't want to run into one now. The place seemed as empty as it looked and I climbed the stairs carefully. It occurred to me that I was running an awful risk. The steps could cave in or a rat could bite me. Only a true Peeping Tom would put himself out so much for a good sighting.
Cars moved up and down the street with their headlights boring yellow beams into the darkness. There wasn't much traffic since the apartment was in a suburban neighborhood. Then I heard a car stop in the street below. When I looked down I saw a couple. The girl's laugh was familiar. . .Sharon. They had arrived. The play was about to begin.
He made drinks and sat on the couch with her. When I saw his lips move I could all but hear him say, "What's a pretty girl like you living alone for?"
Borden kissed the blonde and she ran her fingers along his face. My pussy began to itch for the first time in months. I had neglected that portion of my body as I had neglected my eyes. I cursed myself for throwing away that vibrator.
The handsome young man cupped a hand over the girl's breast. He seemed to be moving according to script. So far he was doing everything he had done to me that night at the apartment. But Sharon didn't act as I had. She responded fully to his overtures. After another few minutes of hugging and kissing he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He turned on the light. It was only a small, table lamp but it gave me all the light I needed. Borden placed the pretty girl gently on the bed and removed her shoes. Sharon smiled and said something. They both laughed. For a girl who looked so sweet and innocent she sure went through a sex scene easily enough.
Both of them started to take off their clothes. Borden was very neat and carefully put his pants and jacket into the closet. There was no tearing passion with this man. When Sharon gave him her dress he hung it in the closet, too. Soon both were down to their underwear.
When Borden pulled his shorts down I sucked in my breath and took a bead on his body with the binoculars. He stood facing Sharon so that I had a side view. His prick stood up like a flagpole and it seemed to be excessively large. His body was a bit flabby but he was still well built. He stood in front of the girl as if proud of his figure. Men, I've discovered, were far vainer about themselves than women.
Sharon took off her bra. Her breasts were firm and pointy. She took her panties off and revealed the interesting fact that her sexual area was completely hairless. I knew that some woman like to shave between their legs to get that little-girl effect. Men who dug Lolita types went for smooth-shaven boxes.
Borden took careful note of the smooth area and rubbed his hand between the girl's legs. Then, finding her vagina to his liking, he knelt before her while Sharon lay across the bed, her feet still on the floor. I had a perfect view of the oral act. I could see the man's tongue lap over the shadowy line of her hairless slit. Sharon rubbed her nipples as he Frenched her and spread her legs wide to take in Borden's bobbing head. The young man opened his mouth wide and slipped his hands under her ass. Sharon squirmed on the bed as he gave her a blow job.
Borden lifted his head and stood up. He said something and the naked blonde girl moved to the center of the bed. The bachelor took his tool in hand and guided it into that smooth-shaven gash. He rammed all he had into the girl and started rutting. Sharon's knees came up and, as I had done so many times, pushed up against her lover as he rose. Her long legs curled around his thick limbs and her pale hands groped his back and rump. Sharon wasn't the shy, passive thing I had always thought her to be. She was giving as well as she got.
Borden stopped moving and I watched the girl clutch his buttocks passionately. He was coming and she had also reached the climax of her lust. My eyes blurred as I watched. Sex-hunger rose up in me like a flame. I could be in that apartment if I wanted to. All I had to do was accept Borden's next invitation.
I kept returning to that old building armed with the binoculars and the vibrator. Sharon was now living with Borden so there was some kind of action every night. When they took off their clothes in the tiny tits just about to grow and a smooth pussy. It was obvious she hadn't as yet discovered the joys vibrator. It was as if I were the third party in a three-way sex orgy.
I didn't ignore the other apartments in Borden's building. He wasn't the only one who neglected his shades. In the apartment just under Borden's was a couple of attractive men living together. At first I thought they might be homosexual but they showed no signs of making sexual overtures to one another. They were just a couple of straight guys splitting the rent. Both spent much of their time reading books and I assumed that they were teachers or engineers boning up for examinations. I could see right into their bedroom where they had twin beds. When they showered they liked to walk around with towels wrapped around them and they both slept naked. One of the men had a slim, hairless body while his friend was built like a truck with a thick chest and swollen arms. Strangely enough the slim, effete-cooking man had the biggest prick. The husky fellow had a short, stumpy penis that revealed not much more than the shiny head. Sadly enough I never saw either one of them have an erection. I wondered where they went for sex?
A married couple lived in one of the apartments with a boy of twelve and a girl of eleven. I don't know where the couple slept but the boy slept in one of those fold-away beds that came out of a chair and the girl had a room to herself. It was an education to watch these two kids examine their own bodies since they were at the stage of their lives where curiosity ruled supreme.
Then, a month after I had started my sightings, the place was torn down.
I climbed over the rubble and tried to look into the windows of the apartments. It was no use.
I would have to expose myself completely to get a passing look at anyone. When I left the rubble and started to walk to the bus that would take me to my hotel a police car screeched to a halt near the curb. "Hey, mac!" the driver called.
When I turned the policeman's face registered surprise. At the same moment a woman came rushing across the street from the apartment I had looked at night after night for a month. I recognized her as the mother of the two children. "That's him! That's him!" she was shouting as she came.
I tightened up. I would have to bluff my way out over another bind again. . .this time with a policeman. "What's this all about?" I asked the officer.
"Well, there's been a report of a Peeping Tom around here," he said awkwardly.
When the woman came over and saw that I was a girl her face dropped. The policeman seemed bored, as if he had been taken out on one too many of these "false" reports. "Is this your Peeping Tom?" he aksed the woman.
"Why. . .why of course not!" she exclaimed. "She's a girl!"
I laughed lightly. "I was just passing through on my way from the store," I said which explained the bag I was holding and also giving me an excuse. The bag contained my voyeur's equipment of binoculars, vibrator, sandwiches and thermo of coffee all of which I had brought along in preparation for a few good hours of peeping and jerking-off. If the policeman looked into the bag he would've put all the times together and come up with that oddity...the female voyeur.
The policeman didn't look into the bag and implied that the woman who had complained had been seeing things. She insisted otherwise. "He was right there on top of that rubble!" she maintained. "He was looking right at me."
"Sure, lady, sure," the policeman said in a tone heavy with sarcasm. He promised to patrol the area more closely for the next few nights and drove off.
I had forgotten that Borden had an apartment in that building and was taken aback when I heard him talk about last night's little street adventure to the other file clerks. Sharon, hiding the fact that she was living with the bachelor now, pretended that she was getting all this information for the first time.
"My neighbor runs across the street and catches up with this guy she says is a Peeping Tom." he was saying. "Only it doesn't turn out to be a guy but a girl. She told me that she was a pretty kid, only a teenager but she was dressed like a man almost.
"She sounds like a psycho," one of the file clerks announced. "Only men prowl around looking into windows. But there's an exception to every rule."
The more they talked about the mysterious female voyeur the sicker I got. I wanted to take the day off but I didn't dare. This would only indicate that I was the one. My co-workers talked about me without knowing it. They wondered what made a girl a Peeping Tom. They kept using words like "crazy" and "psycho" just as those boys had at the beach in California. When the boss came in and demanded that everyone get back to work I was relieved. I managed to get through the day and dragged myself over to my hotel room. I looked at my dark clothes hanging in the closet, the ones I wore for my nighttime prowling. I looked at my binoculars and my vibrator. I looked at the thermo I always filled with coffee. Then I looked at my face in the mirror. The face of a pretty teenaged girl didn't go with all that sick, crazy, psycho stuff. Peeping Toms were men.
My boss hated to see me go especially since I didn't even give him the usual two-weeks notice. I made up some story about there being an emergency in my family and he let me go. After I took out all my money from the bank I shopped around for a used car that took most of it. I hoped I wouldn't get desperate enough to have to sell this one. I checked out of the hotel and drove out of Phoenix. When the desert engulfed me and I was alone of the road I felt safe. No people meant no voyeurism. There was no need for peeping when there no people to peep at.
CHAPTER NINE
My car became my iron womb; my mobile cave. I felt safe in the compact space and gloried in the freedom of flight I enjoyed as I drove through the empty deserts of the southwest. I even cooked meals outdoors and slept in the car I called home. What need had I of people? All I needed was to make some money now and then to buy gas and oil for the car and food for myself.
I stopped at one small town to work as a waitress in a diner. The manager of the place was a lecherous hick who kept pawing me every chance he got. I hung on just to get enough money to travel again. I wound up in a mountain resort where I got a seasonal job as a chambermaid. The food and lodging were free and I made out well in tips. At the resort my compulsion for voyeurism rose up in me strongly because I had so many opportunities to see others in sexual action. People tended to be a lot more casual about themselves during vacations and I often passed open doors and windows in my job as chambermaid to see couples, many time of the same sex, making love. When I opened doors to change beds I felt a thrill when I caught a man in the nude. I could have avoided surprising the men but I, alone of all the chambermaids at the resort, took pains to see naked males.
Once the season was over I traveled again. With my tips, salary, and what I had saved by eating and sleeping free at the resort filled my money supply to the brim so that I didn't have to look for work for three months.
I went all the way to the east coast where I got a job in a Miami Beach hotel as a messenger. My duties were light and, although the pay was small, men tipped me generously. Behind their generosity was the hopes that I would accept their offers for dates. I smiled and led them on. By the time the season was over I had made enough money to take a vacation myself. I went all the way down across the long overseas bridge to Key West and enjoyed off-season rates and the sun.
My window overlooked a beachfront where young boys between the ages of ten to fourteen swam in the raw. They were the children of the area's residents and they knew all the secret spot for "skinny dipping."
I drove north, up along the coast just to see if I could find any more of those beaches where boys swam in the raw. Once, in Virginia, I came upon a group of campers, those trucks that were made up into living quarters. They were parked near a beach and, to my delight, I discovered that some men and women were swimming in the raw. I focused my binoculars on them and watched a couple make love on the sand. When it grew darker I moved on and spent a night at a motel.
Jobs came and went. The miles came and went. The years came and went. The car I had bought in Arizona gave up the ghost in Maine. I then started traveling by bus and rail. I was in the midst of a long escape from myself. I was afraid to settle down in any one area and get involved. Now and then I did become involved out of sheer loneliness, I suppose, but the affair always ended badly. In Chicago, Illinois I met a cute fellow who invited me to share his apartment. He found me a job in a department store and, once I started bringing in money, he quit his own job and allowed me to support him. Once again a man used me. I packed my one suitcase and took the next train out of Chicago.
The pattern was always the same; after a bad experience with a man I would return to the safety of voyeurism. Then, after I became so aroused by what I saw, I reached out for love again. The pattern repeated. The man turned out to be a bastard and I ran and ran.
When I was working in a club in Las Vegas some creep developed a crush on me. He followed me home and took to peering in my window. This, I felt, was really ironic! I would've laughed it off but I couldn't have some guy stare at me all night so I was forced to call the cops. They told me that all Peeping Toms were harmless. When I went to court to swear out a complaint against the guy he couldn't even look at me. He was a little, scared rabbit of a guy who didn't have the nerve to do anything but look. He was sent away to the county jail for five days. I thought this was senseless since it was so obvious the man was off his rocker.
I left the topless club and became one of those girls who bring free drinks to gamblers. It was my duty to get people so drunk that they would make foolish moves and overspend. In the long run those "free" drinks were very expensive.
Las Vegas was good to me and I brought my first new car. I drove back to California and even dared enter that city that had given me my worst
memories. . .Los Angeles. I suppose I wanted to see if I could end the memories by facing the city again.
I went back to the restaurant where I had worked so hard as a girl but all the help had been changed so no one recognized me. I saw a teenaged girl working at the counter as I had done. She was pretty but her face was sad. What was her problem? What was she running from and where was she running to? Southern California seemed to be the gathering place for runaway and drop-outs of all ages and colors. One writer once said that the United States was built on a tilt so that everything that was loose in it naturally gravitated to Southern California. Well, maybe he was right. This was my second visit to the Land of Fruits and Nuts.
I didn't stay in Los Angeles for more than a day and went south. I drove across the Mexican border and became an international voyeur. When I was staying at a hotel in a fairly large Mexican city I trained my binoculars on a house where two couples seemed to be having a wife-swapping party. One couple was obviously Mexican and the other was clearly American with their light hair, pale skin and blue eyes. I watched the dark Mexican male mount a rather plain woman and ram his prick into her cunt. My line of vision was perfect since I could actually see the spot where the genitals met. The man's balls bounced as he screwed and he seemed to be exceptionally virile because he kept pumping for a very long time. When he shot his load the Mexican girl spread herself out on the bed with her legs apart. She had a hairy snatch and her breasts were round and soft. The American male covered her with his body and I watched his ass rise and fall slowly. I breathed heavily as if he were getting into me instead of her. Once more I was at the stage where I was ready to risk my heart and emotions again via an involvement with a man of my own. I fought back this urge hoping that it would go away because all it ever gave me was trouble and more trouble.
The American girl and the Mexican man then Frenched one another. I trained my binoculars on the man's mouthing's and then the girl's. She raised her head slightly to take his testicles orally. As she did her eyes met mine. She shouted something and I stepped away from the window. The shades were drawn in the house below and I suffered the humiliation of being caught again.
But I wasn't really caught since all the girl saw was the glint of my binoculars. I heard her talking about it with her male traveling companion from the United States. They were in the hotel bar and I was eating at a table only ten feet away. "Damn Peeping Tom," she was saying in a drunken voice. "Probably some perverted son-of-a-bitch who gets his kicks by going to stag movies."
The man kept shushing her but she kept insisting that they find out, through the desk clerk, who rented the room. I knew that all it would take to get my name was a couple of bucks to grease a palm with. But, thankfully, they drove away a few minutes later with their Mexican friends. I checked out of the joint a returned to America.
Sometimes the desire to peep overcame me at odd moments. When walking along a street in Dallas, Texas one night I chanced to look in a basement apartment and caught a flash of nudity. I went over to the window and looked down at a middle-aged doing push-ups on the floor. He was far from being good looking but I found that I couldn't take my eyes off him as he went close to the floor and up again. He had a hairy ass and his prick hung down like a dead flower.
My car was a valuable asset in both my desire to continue my long escape and my compulsion towards voyeurism. By peeping through a car window I could always take off quickly once someone caught me at it. A car also got me around to many hundreds of houses I would never have checked out if I were on foot. Apartment houses and hotels remained my favorite peeping grounds since they offered so many windows. My mode of operation was to go behind these buildings at night and glance at the windows as I drove slowly past them. When something caught my now most experienced eye I would stop. If I could get close to the building to find a safer spot I would do it.
In Boston, one warm evening, I saw a black man with a white woman making love. They were in a second-floor apartment and at the rear of a building that overlooked a parking lot. I was parked in a direct line of vision with the inter-racial pair. I slumped down in the front seat and trained my binoculars on them.
The black man had the white girl up against a wall and I got a side view of their connecting bodies. There was no light on in the room but I could see them in the blue-yellow moonglow which flooded the love-nest. Their bodies were so perfectly lit by the full moon that my binoculars were effective and I could see the man's long, dark cock sink into her slowly. He was taking his time and she seemed to be in no hurry, either. The black man pulled back showing me his meaty tube that was now shiny with moisture from the girl's pussy. He pushed in again and out again. The man never hurried and he kept screwing the white woman for what seemed to be fifteen minutes before he came. The couple left that spot in the wall near the window and I waited for them to return. As I did I gazed up at the other windows.
On the fourth floor a boy of about eight or nine opened the window and exposed his pecker. At first I thought he realized who I was and what I wanted but he started to urinate. A long line piss fell against the ground with a splash.
A light went on in the inter-racial couple's window. I saw the black man with his back turned fingering the lamp. The white girl wasn't there. He turned and exposed his dark spear of a prick and a beautiful ebony body. The white girl entered the room and gave him a pack of cigarettes. I had the idea that that was what the man was looking for. The girl had small breasts and wide hips. Her hair hung all the down to her waist. I could see now that she wasn't more than eighteen while her black lover was at least thirty. Just as he lit a cigarette he saw me staring at him. He rushed to the window. "Fuck off!" he screamed at me.
I started the car and sped out of the parking lot. As usual this near-miss with capture excited me. I drove to the hotel I was staying at and went into the bar. I wasn't strong on drinking but I liked a nip now and then. A tall, young black man was leaning against the bar and he eyed me up and down. He waited until he was sure that I was alone and then he moved over to me. "Buy you a drink?" he offered.
My instincts told me that the man, like so many others had been, was trouble. Yet I was turned on to Negro meat at the moment and allowed him to buy me a drink. After two more he invited me to his room. His name was Jimmy and he told me that he was a jazz pianist. I had worked around bars too long to trust what anyone said to me in them but I wasn't at all interested in how he made a living. I was just interested in how he made a loving.
As soon as we got to his room he kissed me and pawed my body. He had me up against the wall as that other black man had that white girl. I zipped his pants open and took out his prick.
"I hope you don't expect me to pay you," he said softly.
"I'm no hooker," I assured him.
"Just a girl out for dark meat, huh?" he said with a hint of meanness in his voice.
I tightened up. I could sense that trouble coming faster now and let go of his cock. He grabbed me violently and threw me against the bed. "You may not expect money but I do. How much you got on you, baby?" he demanded.
"Let's just forget it," I told him with perfect control. By now I was used to dealing with bastards. "I'm out of the mood."
"I don't care what kind a mood you are in or out of I want your money," he said a little put off by my calmness.
Jimmy, or whatever his name was, operated a sweet racket. First he got a white girl into his room and then he demanded money. The girl couldn't complain to the police because then she would have to reveal the fact she had gone along with him willingly. So many people had so many hang-ups about inter-racial sex that it was an easy thing to exploit. I, however, had no compunctions about going to the police and told the black con artist so in very clear terms. It was obvious that he wasn't used to this response and staggered backwards a little. "If you want my money you'll have to take it," I said seeing that I had him on the run. "And, if you take it, baby, I'll scream."
The handsome black stud lost all the wind out of his sail. He didn't try to stop me or make a grab for my bag as I walked out of the room. I sighed heavily in disgust. The fucking pattern of voyeurism, reaching out for love, and disappointment had repeated itself again. And this time I didn't even get laid.
CHAPTER TEN
Windows and men passed by in a long blur. I was convinced that I would be a female voyeur until the day I died. What could be done for me? What could I do for myself? One day while driving through Pennsylvania a couple in another car asked me where the Sunny Gardens Nudist Camp was. I thought that this was some kind of put-on until I realized that they were serious. Actually I didn't know where the place was but I did let them look at my road map until they found the right turn in the road they were looking for. When I sounded them out about the nudist camp they invited me to come along and join them as their guest for the weekend.
Myra and Walter were the names of the thirtyish couple. They were childless and they spent their weekends and vacations during the summer at Sunny Gardens. Since I was being invited along as their guest I didn't have to go through the formality of actually joining the nudist camp until I wanted to do so. They told me that young, attractive, single women were always welcomed at the camp because there was always a surplus of single males. It seemed that men were far more ready to join a nudist camp than were women.
The couple drove up to an area filled with trailers, campers and mobile homes. They told me that there was a hotel on the grounds for nudists who come alone. "Have you had any experience with nudity?" Myra, a quiet, small brunette asked.
I smiled ironically. If only she really knew. "Some," I answered.
"Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of," she went on. "God made our bodies and He doesn't make sinful things."
I got a bit of a shock when the couple started undressing right in front of me. Myra was nude first. She had almost flat breasts which would look right for a thirteen year old girl. Her pubic hair was sparse and she had the kind of ass I had seen on young boys.
Walter was on the wiry side, too, but he had a good-sized cock which hung limply when he removed his jockey shorts. They seemed disappointed that I was still dressed. Once again Myra told me that God gave us His official okay to get naked. Unable to resist that logic I stripped. The couple didn't seem to pay much attention to me at all. The man's penis remained unaroused. Although he didn't stare at me I had to fight the urge to gaze at his prick. I was glad when he invited us all outside.
Myra and Walter introduced me to a lot of people. I also met all the single men of the camp. They were uniformly tanned, handsome and well-endowed. Myra whispered to me later on that a nudist camp was the best place for a girl to find a husband. It seemed that there was a quota system restricting the flow of singles. Unmarried men tried to join the camps by the thousands while single girls had to be urged to do so. This meant that the camps selected the cream of the bachelor crop since they could pick and choose amongst the virile studs.
I found this interesting. I was now twenty-five and still unmarried. Although I had had propositions galore I've never had a marriage proposal. Would marriage cure me of voyeurism? I had thought about it before but I could never get close enough to a man to test the theory.
Sunny Gardens was swarming with children. As I had always believed young boys and girls were not harmed by a display of nakedness. They all seemed very happy and not the least bit overly concerned about their sex organs or the sex organs of others. The teenagers were like teenagers everywhere with boys and girls pairing off and talking together. If only I had been brought to a nudist camp as a youngster. . . .
I joined the camp officially and the owners welcomed me because there weren't enough single girls around. I didn't want to impose on Myra and Walter all the time so I moved into the hotel. I shared a room with another girl named Cathy. She was rather homely and candidly informed me that she had joined the camp to find a husband. "I've been to so many resorts and always struck out," she said. "With so many single guys around here I may be lucky."
Cathy did get lucky and I saw her surrounded by not one but three studs near the swimming pool later on. I suppose I got the reputation for being stuck-up and shy again since I took pains to avoid social contact. I preferred sitting off to one side with my sun glasses on so I could leer to my heart's content.
I couldn't stay the outcast all the time so I started swimming in the large, outdoor pool. It was crowded with naked men, women and children. Richard was among them. He was one of the single men and one of the best looking. He was thirty-two and was an engineer who worked with a large electronic firm in New York. Richard drove out to Sunny Gardens every weekend weather permitting. I wondered why such a gorgeous hunk of man was still single until he informed me that he had been married at one time but was now divorced. When we got to know one another better he told me that he left his wife because she was sexually frigid. "She didn't even like to see me naked," Richard confessed. "She wouldn't even let me look at her body, either. I suppose that's why I joined a nudist camp. I wanted to find a girl who wasn't up-tight about nakedness. I'm sure that a girl who doesn't mind walking around naked with others isn't frigid."
I could be called a lot of things but not frigid. If it was nudity that Richard sought I was more than happy to be looked at and stare back in return. He realized that I was the exact opposite of his former wife and he proposed one night when we were walking along the camp. Since it was chilly we were both fully clothed. By habit I withdrew from his offer of intimacy but this was not just any offer; he was actually asking me to marry him. I accepted quickly before I chickened out.
Everything happened so quickly that Richard didn't have time to arrange a honeymoon trip. For our wedding night we went to a second-rate motel that just happened to be on our way back to New York. Once we got inside our room Richard kissed me and clutched at my body. Finally, at the age of twenty-five, I could have a socially acceptable affair.
We hurried out of our clothes. I was anxious to see how big Richard was when he had a hard-on. When he stood naked before me I looked down at a healthy, stiff, engorged pecker that was to be mine, all mine, for the rest of my life.
My husband rubbed his hands all over my body as if to assure himself that I was there and that I wouldn't object to his gripping. He clutched my pussy and rubbed his palm over the pubic triangle quickly. My nipples stiffened and stuck out. Richard took one of them in his mouth and brought me down against the bed. As he sucked his free hand fingered my cunt. He was getting me aroused first before ramming his tool in where it counted.
Then he mounted me. I spread my legs wide to accept the first fuck of my married life. Richard slid his meaty tube all the way down my much-used and much-abused sexual passageway. When he didn't meet any resistance or tightness he could judge for himself that I was a long distance from my virginal years. I didn't want to tell him that the thing I loved most in my life was a seven-inch vibrator. Looking back over my past I didn't have too many nights of romance with men. For the most part I was a lonely masturbator. I hoped that Richard was going to change all that. We had married in haste and I didn't want to repent in leisure. I didn't want to repent it at all.
I slipped my hands over Richard's back and dug my fingers into his flesh as he pumped. His strokes were powerful, restrained, and deep. His lightly-haired chest moved over my breasts causing my nipples to turn into hard rocks. His breathing became more difficult as he neared his climax. Richard picked up the tempo of his strokes and he started to lose his restraint. The civilized man was becoming wilder in the midst of his most basic passion. I was not one to hold back my emotions, either, and curled my legs around his. As I did he shot his load.
"Oh, Richard!" I gasped and threw my head against the pillow.
When my mouth opened he French-kissed me, his tongue going deep into my oral cavity. We sucked one another's spit as he poured out his virile juices. Our hearts beat loudly. The moment of orgasm passed slowly and we calmed down a little. Richard kept his prick inside my body until it grew limp. Then he pulled out of m e and lifted himself up on one elbow. He looked into my eyes and smiled. "Thank you, dearest," he said.
I was sorely tempted to ask if I were as good as his first wife but I didn't. I really didn't have to because I knew I was so much better. He had divorced her because of her sexual coldness and I was going all out to show Richard just how much heat I had.
My husband sucked my hard nipples and then ran his tongue over both my breasts. I was sure he wanted to see what I felt about oral love-making. A woman who wouldn't even let her husband see her body wouldn't have been the kind to dig Frenching.
Richard ran his tongue down to my stomach and sucked my belly button hard. I kept moaning and groaning softly with sheer joy as he continued his mouthings. He took a new .position in bed with his cock a foot away from my mouth. I knew that he was testing me for now; he wanted to see if I would go all the way to fellatio.
My husband chewed my pussy and sucked. He spread my sexual opening apart and lapped all the way in with his tongue. When he found my lust-engorged clit he played with it. His warm, wet tongue drove me into another spasm of desire. I opened my mouth and took his still-soft organ orally.
"Ummmmm!" Richard breathed in pleasant surprise.
I assumed that he wasn't used to a woman going so far down the road of lust with him. I cupped my hands over his muscular butts and urged his body to come on top of mine. Richard spread his heavy body over my flesh and we were now in the classic Sixty-Nine position.
We mouthed one another with unleashed passion now. My husband's cock grew and stiffened until I was chocking on it. As he Frenched me he cupped my ass with hands and stuck a finger all the way into my anal passage. I did the same to show him that any eroticism he could perform I could perform better.
In the gloom of the motel I could see Richard's hairy nuts so very close to my face. I thought of that time in Mexico when I envied the woman who was in a Sixty-Nine position with a guy. Now it was happening to me again. If I were watching this session from the other side of the motel window I would be out of my skull with wanting.
Richard's penis was fully erected and I could only mouth half his tube. He then spewed. I drank the fluid as it came spurting and Richard sighed in delight once more. I had gone as far as a girl could go with a man.
We licked each other's body and kissed for another hour or so. Richard developed another hard-on. "Three times in one night!" he announced with surprise. "This hasn't happened to me since high school!"
"You've been eating right lately," I told him in a sexy voice.
He laughed and kissed me.
Richard mounted me again and slipped in his prick. It wasn't as hard as it had been the other two times but it was hard enough to penetrate my pussy all the way. Deep, penetrating relief. I thought Was it safe for me to throw away a vibrator for the second time?
My husband pumped me with ease a.id his penis grew stiffer with each stroke. He shot his third load. We both sighed with complete satisfaction. After two hours of wild passion we were coolly civilized once more. I snuggled in Richard's arms and placed my head on his chest. He stroked my hair until he dropped off to sleep. I listened to the steady beating of his heart. He was mine, actually mine. He was my husband. My life just had to change now.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My life changed to the extent that I went to live in New York City for the first time. I had been to a lot of cities in my travels but I had always missed the biggest one in the country for some reason.
Richard lived in a modern, co-op apartment in a building that overlooked the East River. Again habit made me search for other windows I could peep into. I was glad to find that the apartment was so high above ground that it made voyeurism very difficult if not impossible. I would've hated to have moved in next to a sexy hotel where orgies went on every night.
My husband made fifteen thousand a year which meant that I had leapt from poverty into the middle class in one day.
We went back to Sunny Gardens the next weekend and were greeted warmly by our naked friends.
I kept telling myself that the marriage had killed my desire to peep at others. Now and then I caught myself glancing at naked men but I figured that this was only natural in a nudist camp. Then, while passing the area where all the mobile homes, campers and trailers were one evening I chanced to look in at an open window. I saw a well-built man, completely naked, washing his face over a basin. His face was full of soap suds and his eyes were closed so I couldn't really see who he was and he, because of the soap in his eyes, couldn't see me looking at him. I moved in closer. There was something familiar about him but I just couldn't place the body. He had a nice cock and a shapely rump. When he washed the soap off his face I could see who the object of my attentions was...Richard.
I was actually peeping at my own husband and in a nudist camp of all places!
When Richard saw., me he jumped. "Lorna! You scared me," he smiled.
"I'm a Peeping Tom," I informed him flatly.
He laughed. It was a good joke. Who ever heard of a female voyeur?
I went back to New York with my husband feeling very depressed. That crazy, mad, insane desire to watch others on the sly was still with me even after a good marriage. It was just the force of habit, I told myself. It will go away in time.
But it didn't go away. When the cold weather arrived and we stopped going to the nudist camp I found myself hungering for the sight of other naked bodies. Every night I slept nude with a handsome man but I still had that damned compulsion!
One of the best hunting grounds turned out to be a row of apartment houses in Queens. By parking in a lot nearby I could train my binoculars on literally hundreds of windows in complete safety. I saw naked men, women and children and every kind of sex act possible. Once I even saw a woman pour milk over her breasts so her cat would lick them. In ..another window I saw a group of teenagers having a sex orgy. When I became aroused I forced myself not to masturbate. I had a stud at home, after all, who was able to take care of all my erotic demands. This was the only real change in my mode of operation.
We went back to Sunny Gardens that following summer and this provided some outlet for my voyeuristic passions. Yet, oddly enough, I found myself somewhat bored with so much skin on display all the time. According to nudists this was only normal and it was all for the best. Once people took nudity for granted that would be the end to sexual hand-ups...or so they believed. It wasn't so in my case.
I used to think that I became a Peeping Tom out of sex starvation but this wasn't so. Richard was very sexy and, in the nudist camp I had all kinds of bodies to look at. Yet, with an utter lack of logic, I was still a voyeur.
In my travels around the city I found what I had always been looking for...a perfect spot for a Peeping Tom. It was repeat of that spot in Phoenix. An empty building faced an apartment house which meant that I could get some good, close up views with my binoculars. To make matters better Richard had to go out of town a couple of nights every week so I had plenty of time to indulge my eyes to the full.
I fixed a thermo of coffee and dressed in black slacks and a dark jacket. I parked near the building so that I could use the car if I needed a quick escape. When I climbed up the creaking stairs excitement warmed my blood. Nothing had changed. I was still a dirty young woman.
On the third floor I found an interesting sight. In the apartment directly opposite the old building a girl was living with two men. She was shapely and pretty in a hard-faced way. The men were about her age and very virile which made me wonder why they didn't get a girl each. At night all three went into the same large bed where they got into all sorts of positions. Once I saw all of them lay on their sides naked. While the girl was blowing one man the other was screwing her in the ass. Although the men seemed to enjoy the sexual acts her hard face never revealed any kind of emotion. I figured her for a prostitute who looked upon sex as a business and not a pleasure. Maybe the men shared her for the same reason they shared the apartment...to save money. New York City was an expensive town.
One night I had a Peeping Tom's dream of a sighting. Four apartments had something going on at the same time. The shapely girl was taking on the two men as usual. She was stretched out across the big bed while both of them licked her from head to tee in a mutual around-the-world job. As always she wore a blank expression.
In another apartment a husky man in his thirties was making love to a girl who couldn't be more than eighteen. She seemed scared and I soon found out why....she was a virgin. I had a good view of the place where their sexual parts met. When his long pecker sank into her pussy blood began to form as her virginal veil was torn apart. In all my prowling I had never seen a girl get her cherry broken. Once the girl got into the swing of things she started to push her body up against the man in passion.
A third apartment revealed nothing more than a man sleeping nude on a bed. He was pushing fifty but he had a young body. His limp penis lay long against his pale skin and, in his sleep, he scratched it now and then.
I was having a grand time switching my binoculars from window to window until I heard a noise behind me. When I turned I saw the shadow of a man. "Don't be scared, mister," a voice said. "I like to look, too. That's why I'm here. Can I use your binoculars?"
Another Peeping Tom! My male counterpart. He came closer and we could see each other better in the gloom of the old building. He was in his twenties and attractive in a bland sort of way. When he discovered that I was not a man he drew in his breath. "A girl?" he gasped. "I never knew girls liked to look, too."
I smiled weakly. 'That's what everyone thinks," I told him.
He knelt next to the window I was staring out of with my binoculars. Although he was as stunned by this meeting as I was he couldn't take his eyes away from the displays of sex and nudity across the street. I gave him the binoculars in hopes that he would become more interested in those other people than in me. I had always heard that Peeping Toms were "harmless" and now I was going to see if this were true or not.
The man seemed to be too engrossed in what he saw to annoy me. "Look at that girl with the two guys!" he exclaimed. "I bet she's a hooker."
His observation proved to me that he was not new at that game of voyeurism. He also immediately detected the fact that the girl with the older man had just lost her virginity. He recognized the vibrator the woman was using on herself and commented that the man who was sleeping alone probably wanted to be looked at. "For every Peeping Tom there are hundred people who want to be looked at," he informed me.
When I thought of how careless so many people were about showing themselves in their apartments his comments didn't seem entirely without value. I thought of all those men and women who sat by their windows naked as if hoping that someone would look at them and recognize their existence.
The Peeping Tom put the binoculars down and turned his eyes to me. "Could I...could I see you?" he asked timidly.
When I gave an evasive reply he offered to show me his body, a professional courtesy as one voyeur to another. Before I could react he started to pull off his clothes. When he was naked he exposed the fact that his penis was hard, upright and ready. He wanted to do more than just look.
"Please," he begged when I kept my clothes on.
He was so awfully sad that he touched my natural generosity. I had never cheated on my husband except with my eyes but this was a very unusual case. The man wasn't going to force me into a sexual relation. He might even be satisfied by just looking at my naked body close up. I took off my clothes. When I was naked he stood there staring. "I...I never. . .I never.. .did it to a girl," he confessed with a stammer.
A virgin in his twenties! What a tragedy. I, at least, had enjoyed some moments of intercourse during my years of voyeurism. This Peeping Tom was living proof that voyeurs, instead of being sex fiends, were actually very timid. He didn't even come close to me as we stood facing one another in the nude. He was leaving it up to me to make the advance. If I gave him his first piece of ass would he be cured of voyeurism? Maybe I couldn't cure myself but at least I could help another poor soul in distress. I put all our clothes together on the floor and then stretched out on them. "You can fuck me," I offered.
The young man seemed frightened by my offer but he knelt down besides me. His dick, which had been so hard before, was starting to shrink and become soft. Voyeurism had excited him but actually making it with a girl on a personal level was another story. This, I could, see, was his problem.
I grabbed his penis and hand-pumped some hardness back into it. He was such a scared rabbit that I even had to tell him to mount me. When he did I was the one to guide his tube into my cleft. As soon as he got the first inch in his prick seemed to dissolve. Impotency hit the young man like a hammer and he cried out in frustration. "It always happens like this!" he shouted. "I can never do it!"
I was willing enough to stay with him all night if need be to complete the sexual act but his inability to love drove him wild. He struck at the first thing he could find to vent his frustrations on. . .my face. Hitting another was strictly against his nature and he looked at me aghast when blood tricked down my cheek from a cut lip. "I'm sorry!" he gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
The young man wept as he hurried into his clothes. He kept telling me how sorry he was and then he rushed down the creaking stairs and out of the old building.
I lay naked on the floor, stunned by the experience I just had. His punch hadn't hurt me but the agony of his inability to love like a normal man did. He was in worse shape than I was. But, then, as a woman I did have to worry about physical impotency. A vagina was just a passive opening while a penis had to be hard and aggressive to enter it. If I had been born a male instead of a female I might be wandering around the city now boiling over with desires I could not express. For the first time I could see that a female voyeur had it over her male counterpart in one respect at least.
I dressed and walked down the stairs without looking over at those windows. I drove back to my apartment and, as I had done before after a session of frustration and voyeurism, wept aloud. I cried for myself, that young man, and all the other Peeping Toms in the world. We were all so alone, so isolated in our private hells that no one knew of and that even seemed comical. Voyeurism wasn't a comedy.. .it was a tragedy.
That meeting with a fellow Peeping Tom in the old building made me realize that I needed professional help. I could never "cure" myself of voyeurism alone. The psychologist I went to was Charles K. Webster, the man who wrote an introduction to this book.
After months of treatment I gained insight into my particular problem. My desire to watch naked men from afar started when I was a girl on the farm when I saw them taking showers. Sexual patterns that are formed in childhood usually remain with people all through their lives unless changed via intensive psychotherapy. Since I found a great deal of delight in watching nude men through the windows on the sly this carried over into my adult life. My need to look at men secretly quickly became an even stronger habit after having so many bad personal relations with them. In voyeurism there was safety. I could have satisfaction without committing myself to anyone.
My voyeurism dominated my sensual feelings to such an extent that I couldn't shake it off even when I married and had a good sexual relationship. The reason I grew bored with watching naked bodies at the nudist camp was because that element of watching m en in secrecy was gone. It was a case of forbidden fruits always being sweeter. Back on the farm I knew that I shouldn't be watching men take showers and that was what gave my actions an added thrill. When looking became "legal" that thrill was gone.
Once I understood what had turned me into a female voyeur I lost all interest in prowling around and looking into strange windows. Not all Peeping Toms, male and female, are so lucky. According to my doctor voyeurs rarely seek professional help. I can only hope that at least one of these unfortunates will read this book and find the courage to seek out a doctor as I had. To this person I say.. .voyeurism isn't incurable. I know because I was once a female Peeping Tom.
