Horny Antics in the Garden of Eden

by

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, True Story, Incest, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Squirting, Pregnancy, .

Desc: Incest Sex Story: A young man's non-fiction accounting of voyeurism. Masturbating while sureptitiously seeing women engaged in intercourse.<br>The occurances where sheer happenstance... the results were a life long fascination with 'watching'.

2003 ©

I am a dyed in the wool voyeur... no doubt you are as well. Not likely that any of us would be here if we weren't!

However, I am not the type of person that finds his EROTIC EYE CANDY by peeping in women's bedroom windows for my sexual kicks. I don't drill holes in the ladies room wall nor do I peek up skirts by lurking at the bottom of open staircases.

Do I gawk at gorgeous legs with an admirable fanny attached... or a pair pretty of tits and a lovely face passing by? OF COURSE I DO!! My personal anthem comes from the OLD rock ballad... "Standing on the corner... WATCHING all the girls go by!!"

My preference happens to be any opportunity to SCRUTINIZE when INVITED to do so. My sexy wife SINdora enjoys my voyeurism most when it is directed at her... she can issue some awesome 'invitations' now and then!

When asked, "What do you first notice about a woman?" my answer is, 'Depends on whether she's walking TO or AWAY from me!' I am an equal opportunity voyeur! I cannot categorize myself as a 'Leg', 'Tit' or 'Ass' man!!

I LIKE IT ALL!!! Whatever a SHE is willing to put on display I am willing to gaze at most fondly! (My abject apology ladies... you are too delicious to ignore.)

There have only been two situations in my life where I have been a less than forthright, surreptitious Peeping Tom!!! Those were incidents of sheer happenstance... definitely NOT planned. Both occurred within a short time span of each other and within a short distance between the locations. Sex in the great out doors is what it amounted to!

I was initially hesitant to commit this crude chapter of my life to writing... that short interlude could be construed as an embarrassment due to the chicken shit way that I dealt with what happened.

My wife SINdora sees no such mortification as being appropriate. She knows of these episodes in my life and in fact has visited the location with me not so long ago. For fun and old times sake, we got naked and she banged me senseless while we were there. This essay is at HER HORNY REQUEST!

The thoughts, for her of what I had seen and done in this place fired up her own voyeuristic libido sufficiently to toss caution to the wind. We could have been caught or possibly observed. That was the second time in her life to get laid and have a major BIG "O" out of doors! The first such was with some old swinger pal while skinny-dipping on the beach at Captiva Island Florida!! At least with me she didn't get sand in her twat! Yeeouch that's gotta hurt!

The woodland valley a stone's throw from my first home holds a multitude of secrets. More than a few of those confidentialities are as dark and dirt filled as the forest floor itself!

Beyond childhood, beyond achieving the age of majority the place held an overwhelming attraction for me. I have spent inestimable hours in my own version of "Eden"! (Most of those rather innocently... but not all.)

In winter, the steep slopes leading down to the deep valley floor were ideal for sledding and skiing. The other seasons afforded solitude and trout fishing in the brook that, along with glaciers, had etched the long deep cleft into the earth's surface over the eons. The cold clear water traversing the forest floor beginning to end was pure and drinkable as it slued its way to the lake waiting at the open extremity of the gorge.

I was not the first visitor to appreciate the solitude and concealment within those one hundred plus acres of dense woodlands. During the Revolutionary War, a covert iron mine and foundry existed there well out of sight of King George's troops. The fieldstone and mortar foundations and other remnants of the ancient structures remain and can be found today if one knows where to look.

The sturdy leftovers of the iron works figure prominently in my sexual maturation (and masturbation). The surrounding forested land knew about such incidents including the two my delightfully naughty wife asks me to outline here! She has SEXperienced some of her own burning masturbation while images of my misdeeds in the woods ran amok in her mind.

At the very bottom center of the valley, there is a small dam across the brook. The edifice is about twenty-five feet from end to end and about three feet wide. Its top surface is flat and easily traversed on foot. A miniature terra cotta pipe at the bottom allows the brook to pass bubbling through until an iron gate is cranked down. The worm screw mechanics of the gate have long rusted beyond operational use; hence, the stream flows swiftly onward without impediment.

On the auspicious day that initiates the following pair of out of the ordinary sexual excursions, I had been at the lake fishing. I could be found there on any day off from work rain or shine.

The morning in question had been hot since sunrise. Too hot for good fishing, I had gleaned no 'keepers'. By noon, I called it a wrap, picked up my gear and retreated to the cooler interior of the thick woodlands.

My intent was to go to a suitable, favorite Granite outcropping by the stream and have a sandwich and an apple for my lunch. Any experienced angler knows that trout for midday repast is not always possible. Bring a sandwich just in case. The icy water in the brook chilled the surrounding air currents and made the spot rather comfortable.

The melodic songs and trills of Wood Thrushes and other birds of the under stories made this a special place for me. Perhaps a Chipmunk would stop its nervous foraging long enough to attempt to beg or steal a cheek-full of my lunch. They often did to my amusement, if I remained very still.

I walked towards the granite table formation located a few yards below the dam. I had rested and eaten here often enough to know it well and consider it mine. The solitude was perfect for deep thoughts and meditation.

From that place, I could look up along the convergence of paths, one running along the valley floor meandering with the stream. The other path snaked down one side of the slope across the dam and up to the rim of the other gradient. I could feel if not quite see the grotto where my old gal pal Barb and I had once attempted to divest each other of our virginities. (For some details about that dear gentle readers please peruse "My Little Voyeur".)

That memory alone was worth the time and daydreaming I spent there. On more than one occasion in the near total isolation of 'my rock' memories of Barb, naked and inviting her own horny corruption ended with my erection in hand and spurting. S-E-X for us in the great outdoors was her idea and was meant to be a special 'FIRST' for the two virgins. I seconded the horny motion!

Frankly, masturbating alone at 'my rock' in memory of that day with her was better than nothing!

I wonder if the fishes in the stream just below the stone ledge ever took more than casual notice of my seminal fluids dimpling the surface of their home and then swiftly carried down stream with other flotsam and jetsam to be lost in oblivion? That was a fine private place to masturbate. (And a wonderful place to get into my SINdora's pants some years later!) LAID at last in my EDEN!

This day I had but a few, yards left to reach my retreat. The sound of distant crackling twigs underfoot reached my ears. The sound was coming from the rim of the far valley top.

Deer and native fauna melted into the dense greenery as if ghosts... only humans were clumsy enough to announce their presence so incautiously.

Who was descending the slope? Another hapless angler out to try his luck in the blistering heat?

Nearly at the dam and the cross roads of the paths I side stepped into the opaque undergrowth. I am not anti-social... I just wished for my privacy right then. I would see the intruder long before he would see me... and if I so wished... he would not see me even from a yard away.

I set my gear aside and prepared to remain hidden, as had the Leni Lenape clan of the Delaware Indians that frequented this place long before me. The spirits of whom I knew still lurked behind every tree. One could feel their noble presence.

I waited silently and then caught sight of forward movement on the far-off descending trail.

Bare legs emerged first then pink shorts and finally all of HER moved into view. SHE was moving slowly, unsteadily down hill... unaccustomed to the uneven walk way.

Through the miniscule 'camera obscura' formed by the dense near foliage, I could see her clearly and not be seen in return. Like any wood wise denizen of the forest, I knew that a trace of movement on my part could be deadly. (Particularly so had I been a rabbit hiding from a marauding weasel.) I froze scarcely breathing; I was the rabbit for the moment. (After reading this however, you might insist that I was more the sneaky "WEASEL" TYPE!)

This was no fisherman or fisherwoman approaching. Indeed, I knew her vaguely. Her kid sister had graduated with me. Their parents had no imagination when naming their daughters. My classmate had been Susan... the older sibling arriving was Suzanne!

Sad to say, neither sister could have won a beauty contest had mud pies been the only competition. No cruelty intended here... that was the truth. Suzanne left school in the tenth grade and had wandered aimlessly through life since then. Illicit pregnancies had been rumored to be the cause and effect for her defection from school and life in general. It was whispered that if one could get past her looks she'd fuck a snake for a moment of loving and the need to feel loved.

.... There is more of this story ...

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