The Misadventures of a Voyeur

Humid night air clung to her skin as she perched on the fire escape; sweat dripped from her brow, her breath shallow and her pulse quickening. She wasn't supposed to be here; at least, not officially.

It wasn't that she was embraced in the throes of cuckoldry, nor did she consider herself a voyeur; she merely liked to observe. She thought of herself as a researcher, cataloging every act, every indiscretion in meticulous detail, if that detail happened to include sex. So what? She was a researcher of human behavior, and sex is simply one of the many facets of humanity; although it was her specialty, she was a student of carnal knowledge.

Of course, she was lying to herself; the truth of her actions was simple, and far dirtier than she would have liked to admit: she was in fact a voyeur of the highest caliber, and tonight, she was hungry.

The voyeur crouched low, her fingers gripping the edge of the windowsill; light bounced faintly out, casting shadows over her slender figure, the window slightly ajar, within, a couple was tangled in sheets, their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. The woman, lithe and dark-haired, moaned as the man, if the grunts and growls were any indication, pounded her from behind. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air. She bit her lip, her fingers already working at the zipper of her jeans. She could hear every gasp, every subtle wet slap, and it was driving her fucking insane.

She told herself she was just cataloging the experience, but her panties were already soaked, and her clit throbbed with desire. She carried a notebook to log the events of the evening, but tonight it remained black; she considered that it could be filled in later. The sounds of the street below were muffled; if one were to look up, she might be discovered, but no one ever bothered to look up.

A mindless drone of a crowd walked aimlessly on, to bars, back to their homes, to late-night cafes and hookah lounges.

As she watched the couple's sheets fall away, she saw the man's thick cock disappear between the woman's legs. She let out a soft moan; her own fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, circling her clit in slow, teasing strokes.

Her eyes darted around the scene; clothes lay discarded; a book bounced haphazardly upon the bed; she saw as the woman arched her back; her knuckles grew white as she clutched at the windowsill; the man's thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. "Fuck, yeah", he growled, his voice rough with lust.

"Take that dick, you filthy little slut"

Her breath hitched. She loved it when men talked dirty, when they commanded authority over a woman, told them what they really wanted them to be, used them, owned them. Her own fingers moved faster, her hips rocking in time with the couple's rhythm. She could practically feel the man's cock inside the woman, stretching her, filling her, making her scream.

Then it happened: disaster. The voyeur slid sideways on the fire escape, her knee scraping the grated edge, causing a small pebble to become dislodged; the sound was sharp in the quiet night. The woman's head snapped toward the noise, her eyes locking onto her hiding spot. For a heartbeat, there was silence. It was then that the man pulled out of his partner with a satisfying pop, a stray beam of streetlight catching his cock, causing it to glisten with the woman's arousal.

"Who the fuck is there?" he barked, his voice thick with aggression.

Her heart pounded. She could run, or perhaps play dumb. But the thrill of being caught was intoxicating. Instead of fleeing, she rose slowly from her perch, her fingers still buried in her panties, her lips parted as she watched them with hungry eyes.

She thought for a moment, considering what might happen. Did this violate the sanctity of her research? She felt like a deer trapped in headlights.

At once the couple saw her; their bodies too were drenched in sweat.

The woman spoke; a soft, sultry voice rang through her ears, triggering a slight tingle: "What have we here, a little whore come to watch?"

She whispered something to the man that the voyeur couldn't quite make out. Without a word, he began to walk over, still firmly erect. Before she had time to react, he reached her hide.

He ripped the window open fully, grabbing her firmly; his hands rough, his breath tickling the nape of her neck, his eyes staring right into hers.

Then he pulled her down so she was bent in through the window, her bare ass exposed to the street.

She was face to face directly with his manhood; she could see precum dripping from its tip.

The soft voice returned, louder, almost taunting now.

"Just do it already"

He groaned, his hips jerking forward, forcing her to swallow him whole. The air was pushed from her lungs; she gagged, yet she found herself unable to stop.

His cock tasted faintly of pussy; she looked up to process what was happening.

His fingers gripped tightly against the back of her head; she was powerless to move; his hips thrust hard and fast. Each stroke brought him closer.

The woman joined them at the window, grabbing hard at the man's balls while she whispered encouragement.

"That's it, baby, use that little whore. Time to put that mouth to good use"

As the man drove his hips forward again, she couldn't help but love it.

He buried every inch down her throat until her nose pressed flat against his pelvis. She gagged hard, her throat spasming around the thick shaft; spit poured from the corners of her mouth and dripped onto the windowsill. The woman's fingers tightened around his balls, rolling them around while she leaned in close enough for the voyeur to feel her breath on her cheek.

The woman spat on her, licking her ear.

"Suck it properly," the woman hissed. "Show me how much you like being caught"

The man's grip on the back of the voyeur's head never loosened. He used her mouth like it was a fleshlight, thrusting forward in short, brutal strokes that caused her eyes to water. Each time he pulled back, a thick string of saliva connected her swollen lips to the head of his cock before he slammed it forward again. The taste of the woman's pussy still coated him, mixing with the salty tang of his precum on her tongue.

The man's pace grew faster, his balls slapping violently against her chin with every thrust. As he did so, the woman's hand slid away from his balls, snaking across the voyeur's lower body, her fingers finding her soaked panties, pulling them aside. She thrust two fingers inside the voyeur without warning, curling hard against her front wall while the man continued to fuck her throat.

The woman began pumping her fingers deep inside, stretching the voyeur's pussy out. As he pulled the voyeur in harder against the windowsill, the man's breaths grew rapid, as if he were about to explode.

"Not yet," the woman cooed

Her voice grew harsher now.

"Cum with his cock down your throat. Show us what a filthy little spy you really are."

She forced her entire hand inside the voyeur, and cum the voyeur did; her spine arched, her legs shook, her muffled moans sent sweet vibrations around the shaft stretching out of her mouth. The man groaned, hips stuttering as his cock swelled. He held her head flush against him, forcing her to take every pulse as he emptied his balls down her throat.

As he released his grip slightly, thick ropes of white flooded her mouth, spilling out around his shaft and pouring down her chin while the woman's fingers kept working inside her, dragging her own orgasm out until her vision blurred.

When he finally pulled out, his cock left a wet trail across her lips. The man released her hair, but only to smear the mess across her face with two fingers.

The man smirked.

"Next time you're gonna beg to be part of the show"

The voyeur didn't argue with them. Instead, she watched as they disappeared back into the apartment, leaving her trembling and dripping with cum on the fire escape, exactly where they'd found them.

And she couldn't wait for round two.