Chapter 2

A good friend of ours has very big tits, 40DD brassiere, I know as I did have a peep at her laundry and suitcase when they stayed with us. She was mum of two boys. After a lot of research and practising, often I was the subject to confirm the views of the cams, there came the prize event of her and her husband visiting us. I rigged up a secret camera in a large pot plant in our bathroom and in a crowded bookshelf in the guest bedroom and got some prize videos of her, both undressed and naked. Man - what a show.

Les as we called her, short for Leslie, was about 5’6 and a figure to compare say Sharon Osborne but bigger knockers, she was stroppy almost bad tempered all the time and quite pretty in a Sandra Bullock way. She often wore low cut tops and displayed unbelievable amounts of cleavage, so I was determined to get some bare naked pictures.

They went out shopping with Clare. I stripped off and then viewed the capture on video accompanied with a tremendous wank. The bathroom stuff was sensational, revealing a succulent full forested snatch and her massive tits swinging and wobbling low and full as she stripped off and washed. I did wonder why she didn’t shower but the camera would need to be rigged up in a different place which wasn’t possible then so I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed. I did make a note to sort that out at a later time when other fulsome women would stay with us. Les’ nipples were quite pale without a great circle of areolae, but the pale pink buds were veritable organ stops. There was a great shot when Les had dried off completely and stood sideways to the hidden cam picking at a spot on her chin in the mirror. Her belly, gently rotund had a tyre of spare flesh but beneath it her fluffed up, dry, lady garden showed no sign of any trimming the length. Just like Kitten Navidad an old time porn star with the huge firm tits and big muff.

The motion sensitive bedroom cam in their room gave a superb view of her fiddling round her travel bags and sitting at the dressing table stool. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t get a good sighting of her arsehole. The bathroom hidden cam was in an indoor plant foliage and captured her dropping and pulling up her knickers and sitting on the toilet. She didn’t take a shower. They didn’t indulge in any sexuality on camera, the only comments I did catch was their disappointment with the room size – Pah!

I checked out the guest bedroom after the video. Then I rifled through her case and found a clean pair of pale pink, size 14 briefs that had a lace panel in the front. I made sure I rubbed my cock on them as a parting gift. Also in a tiny bundle at the bottom was a pair of flesh coloured low cut (I tried them on) lemon coloured briefs with the slightest stain in the crotch. What followed of course was a lingering sniff of those where I found a stray black pube. Les was very strong pussy scented, slightly salty with a touch of anchovies – nice!

I decided to engineer a way of capturing future desirable guests having a shower.

I was at a meeting where the attendees were of mixed age, gender and nationality. One of our neighbours is a very sexy, widowed mature lady with a full figure and in the summer I often get sneaky peeks, sometimes using binoculars from the upstairs windows, of her rolling bosom always in a bra down her shirt or blouse while she works in her attractive garden. She is a very cold person, an ex civil servant, not a chatter, rarely smiles and doesn’t seem to have many visitors.

However the girl sat next to her at the meeting was black woman and I mean black, in her early 30s I would guess, very voluble but with annoying squeaky high pitched voice. Her name was Kebe. UK readers will know of a TV programme called Strictly Come Dancing and there is a professional dancer named Oti Mabuse who has a great rack, stunning legs and Kebe reminded me very much of her.

Oti is South African and her face is really cute, small button like nose without the usual big lips.

I have lusted over more coloured girls than whites in my life.

Kebe wore a simple off the shoulder white high cut blouse displaying shapely, black, glistening shoulders, no obvious cleavage although I guessed there were some bounteous tits under it judging by the mounds viewable in conversation. She wore a black shiny skirt which was knee length and her sleek legs gleamed with lotion.

The great sighting for me was her brassiere strap, crimson coloured, shiny maybe satin, not a narrow one and it was obviously supporting a decent weight the way it cut into her shoulder flesh.

Never got the opportunity to get an up skirt of Kebe but not for the want of trying.

One of my outstanding up skirt captures on video was in a huge supermarket and I chanced on this Oriental (Jap, Chinese, Korean) lady perusing the open veg display and picking them to put in her bags. It was really busy in there which I reckoned gave me great cover knowing where the CCTV cams were.

She was not very attractive facially. There was a big wide face, round on top sort of square on bottom, small flat up tilted eyes, small nose and cute little mouth but the total package wasn’t pretty. I find it difficult to age these ethnic ladies, loose shoulder length hair, wearing a pale green patterned lightweight dress, flat pumps on her feet and a loose knee length skirt, bare slender legs and that regardless of her looks was the attraction. She was bending, reaching and studying a lot of produce I guess being very careful about quality and weight. It all went into the free bags.

A perfect target and I moved in knowing I had got her face and torso. I dropped the shoulder bag and with my experience manoeuvred it between her oft splayed legs in various positions. She was totally oblivious to my close presence, being careful myself in picking and examining the same stuff as her. At home I excitedly viewed the video and got the nearly ultimate shot which would be no knickers. Her undies were loose round her legs and her very visible pubes were black, thick and long poking out each side of her panties. It was one of my classics.

I only captured one knickerless up skirt video of a lovely twat and this was a city open market in the ancient, popular and crowded square. Always busy on one day in the week, which was logged in my up skirt brain.

She was a brunette pin-up type stunner, super shapely figure, about mid 20s and on this very hot day wore a shoulder less tight white dress with black trim, very visible white bra straps, the straps over her bare shoulders too tight really and the skirt of her dress splayed beautifully from her hips – perfect! She was with a pal, equally stunning, but she was in cheap tight jeans through which revealed a pair of panties. Both girls were very tanned and from being close as I wandered round in their wake and at a snack bar I got, over the piped music over the market, the shouts of the traders and the often lewd chat of the burger man, smatterings of conversation which told me they had just been to Spain on holiday – as I had.

I sauntered up to them at a snack bar where they ordered burgers, through a lot of cheerful banter from the chap serving who knew them. The bag went between her quite animated legs, not easy and needing a lot of concentration to prevent it being kicked and alerting my target. If that did happen sometimes, I just apologised and moved back a bit.

I captured a long time and when home I viewed the results and wanked to a sexy scene of tanned, firm, round, active buttocks and the sight of a bare naked smooth cunt. There was no hair and she had cute protruding lips but I came quickly and repeated a wank later that day.

I then spotted a very well dressed elderly lady and moved on hoping for contrast, but she left.

In an upmarket supermarket, during high summer, school holidays I spotted a yummy mummy and her son who was about 12. She was about mid 40s, blonde bob hair, a lot of jewellery and make-up, tight white tee shirt with nice tits, a slight suggestion of nipple bulge through a thin brassiere and wearing an above the knee, loose, dark blue denim skirt. Her legs were bare and well toned. On her feet were cute, peep toe, high heeled sandals. They were at the freezer cabinets and searching the ice cream selection. I moved to the opposite side of the units to see if her nipples would rise in the cooler air but they didn’t. The boy was engrossed in his tablet, I think it was some game as I moved back behind and nearer them.

Mummy stretched and I swooped and got some brief moments up her skirt and then again in a different produce area and much longer. She sauntered on and reached the fruit shelves and bent over to the lower produce, picking and choosing stuff and this was another opportunity to capture the crotch secrets of a reasonably wealthy lady as the whole shop is not cheap and what she was putting in her very crammed basket were pricey and exceptional quality items.

In went my bag and seconds later her son surfaced from his video games and looked at me, the bag and then muttered to her something which sounded like camera. She of course straightened and looked around but luckily I was alert and bustled out of the shop – expecting to hear a shout from management. There was none and I drove away. Wow! close one. That was the closest escapade in about 3 years up skirting.

At home I had the pleasure of viewing what well to do yummy mummies wear when shopping with their sons. Simple plain black knickers, no lace, no trimming and covered her whole arse, but it was well worth it just to see nothing but with good lighting I captured her tan, her toned limbs and her knickers.

I accepted an invitation to demonstrate a craft I was good at to the local Women’s Institute group. I knew them to be middle aged to very old, but I took along my cameras on the off chance as a gamble. When they were shuffling slowly into the very smart village hall I was setting up my gear, cams in my holdall, I had nearly discarded the idea of up skirts then spotted several ladies who I reckoned to be in their early 50s and as usual in these meetings, they all wear smart clothing, so while there there were no short skirts and tight tee shirts, I could see that a lot of the throng were wearing tights or as I hoped stockings.

Who knows these days?

Females of all ages apart from minors were a target for my escapades and this – could be another. The local top girl Phoebe, widowed, is the local “squire” in the big house and she is very bubbly, 70 years old and a very distant cousin to the Queen. Within this ladies circle she is known as Fab. There were no aristocratic features in her looks, just a pleasant outgoing, always smiling countenance under a very tinted dark sensible hairstyle. She wore her usual green grey tweed skirt. I guessed the jacket she wore was similar to hunting apparel over a checked pink and red collared shirt. She had quite stout legs, no ankles. She’s often seen in the area on the back of one of her several thoroughbred horses.

I asked about a particular lady with her and found out it was Phoebe’s cook, Nancy. I guessed her at about 50 with a butch, auburn haircut, solemn face and big bosom smothered behind a plain shirt, then a light fleece, then a maroon coloured Gilet above a dark grey, knee length, jersey skirt. I guessed total dyke.

Two targets already.

I got through the first half of my programme, interval time, noticing several of the old dears had nodded off, but that’s usual not just me apparently. Lovely cakes with jam of course accompanied the tea and several questions, then I took time out to drift, chat and having set up my trusty shoulder bag to pounce, not forgetting the cam on my shirt front.

Nancy the cook was easiest to get at, seemingly shy and withdrawn and engrossed in a book at the bring and buy stall. In went the bag and I got a good time under her firmly spread legs in sensible brown brogues, but tights or stockings? Glancing around I moved on to Lady Feb who stood alone manning a desk for membership. She was very chatty, pleased with how I was presenting and being accepted until three very old ladies approached her and cut across our chat to ask inane questions.

I stood to one side and dropped the bag and aimed it under the head honcho of the afternoon. Feb was helpful and active for the old gals and shifted around giving my concentration a hard time, but I got some good time under her, between what must have been the highest heels in the room – all of inch and a half.

Gladys the chairman of the group beckoned me over to my desk and gear. She wasn’t on my target list being ugly, obese ( if I got a view up her skirt it would be all flesh, sort of fart and give me a clue territory) and wearing a heavily pleated skirt down to her ankles. Pleasantly she quizzed me about the following part of my talk and demo and moved away having introduced me to her successor in 3 months, a very plain academic looking lady. This was Camilla, known in the club as Cammy.

This very alert ageing beauty was 47 I found out later, looking her up on Wikipedia as she was well known in literary circles nationally added Phoebe as she sauntered by. She had long, past the shoulder greying hair, part of which was fastened in a sort of top notch bun, the rest hung loosely but carefully over her shoulders. Her clothes sense was very kooky, not fashionable, not trendy, quite ugly in fact and completely her. Cammy was wearing a checked shirt, buttoned completely up to her neck, then a Paisley patterned waistcoat above a flowing purple cotton skirt.

Over the waistcoat and skirt she had this almost schoolmasters cloak which flowed after her. It was black and looked suitably dusty. On her feet there were highly polished black work shoes, but I could see nylon tights or stockings. I hoped she would be wearing her namesake undies Cami knickers.

She was very interested in some ancient sepia second world war photos of local significance I had displayed in heavy, leather bound albums, very precious hence the do not touch labels. Cammy wanted to study them closely, thinking her grandfather might be in the war pictures and as her eyesight was poor she used a magnifying glass, fished out of a canvas sling bag as she bent over to accentuate her spectacled vision. I noted she had even cultivated the school ma’am literati look wearing her owl like skinny specs way down her slender nose. She used some gloves I loaned her to handle the precious documents. My luck was in again so I slid the the bag under her seeing she was another wearing tights, or so I thought.

Back home I viewed my captures at leisure. Cook Nancy’s arse hove into view, not easy light considering the thickness of her skirt, but the first surprise and delight, was not tights, not even stockings but skin coloured pop socks which stopped just below her knees with their elasticated tops. From there her pale chubby knees and thighs rose to converge with what would probably be a noisy slap, flabby upper flesh then arse cheeks that bloomed with cellulite. Over the marshy outlooks of her buttocks clung dark, grey, plain, all enveloping pants.

Inadvertently I sniffed as I perused this uncharted territory, the first to my knowledge and experience lesbian on my trusty camera. When next to her, there was a musky but not unpleasant odour, delicate kitchen, perfume and woman smells.

Now Lady Phoebe, the name rolls off the tongue with an inbuilt formality, I remember a kids TV cartoon with a named character the same, but she was a glamorous blonde. This was not what I captured as I rolled the video on and expectantly waited for the up skirt she and her WI members were completely unaware of. She was wearing stockings, high denier no doubt, a light tan shade and I hefted my cock as I noticed amongst all the movement she was making and my camera manipulation, there was a pair of vintage, bronze coloured, satin/silk garters with a cute bow. It was classic aristocratic apparel and suited Lady Phoebe to a tee. Her knickers were the same coloured material, not skin tight, no lace trim and all encompassing and like Nancy a fair spattering of cellulite on what flesh I could see.

The surprise of the afternoon was Camilla. So intent was she on the old photos, she remained very static and fixed her stance, which gave me superb access. I recalled that she had smelled fragrant, betraying her foisty weird clothes and I wasn’t sure of any success beneath the grimy outer layers, but there was pale flesh coloured tights and ... no knickers! Fuck me, was that a bare pussy winking at me? I remembered the length of time my cam spent under her layers and how still she remained, engrossed in the war memorabilia. I played the video slowly absorbing every detail, seeing a light coloured, sparse, muff crushed beneath the clinging gusset of her tights.

There was no sign of her slit, I assumed she had a slit rather than a meaty beaver and at one point in the video, Cammy reached down and attempted to scratch into her groin area and I could see the imprint of her fingers as they delved into the annoyance.

I realised I had captured another lady judging by the time recorded on screen, so I fast forwarded to lovely sweet Ethel who was in charge of the tea and a long term neighbour of ours. I hadn’t dwelt long with her but how could I forget her? More for cheekiness as I knew her very well, capturing a quicky up what I thought a modern dress for a lady in her mid eighties while she gossiped to some other ladies, all completely unknowing of the rogue in their midst.

It was scooped neck white across the shoulders down to her saggy, low slung and once sizeable I remember, bust, then a sky blue pattern to where it finished just below her knees. Meeting her walking past our house in the summer, I always noticed the myriad of fine lines and wrinkles round her eyes, mouth, jowls but more interestingly to me, those at the top of her bony cleavage especially when she folded her arms and bunched her bosom together. The old gal used the same bus route as the local college kids and having seen and waved to her from the house I have ogled the teenage girls in impossibly short skirts, bare legs, thrusting boobies still maturing as they passed totally absorbed in their mobile phones.

It did occur to me that if I mounted one of the cameras somewhere low on the rear end of our car, which was parked on the drive, the rear being particularly close to the footpath, I might get some cheeky walking glanced up-skirts of the college beauties.

Ethel was slender, well preserved, comfortably off with white silver immaculately coiffured thick hair. She was always well tanned, sort of fuck the warnings, I’m having my two cruises a year, which she did. She was widowed by Tristram her TV executive husband, keen golfer and sailor with their own yacht. Trim legs had a few blemishes and age marks, but unseen in the video as she favoured tights which covered her ageing limb details.