Chapter 3

The dry spells of my marriage often drove me out into my other kink. Roaming the night for the forbidden thrills of window peeping. The thrill of the voyeur is a drug every bit as addictive as crack cocaine. Creeping up to a window, pulse pounding throat dry, breathless with anticipation; every night was an adventure. Contrary to what you might think, most nights were abject failures. Most people pull their shades tight. Along with that, in order to minimize risk, over the years I’d been careful to build a set of rules to follow to keep from getting caught. For example, I never mixed alcohol with peeping adventures. Alcohol led to risky behavior which increased the chances of getting caught dramatically. I was extremely paranoid and careful. This paranoia reduced many of the sights I might have enjoyed.

Thus, my spots boiled down to motels. Especially the older ones on both ends of town. Easy to get in and out off. No barking dogs or husbands with shotguns. But I was ultra careful there as well. I had a complicated route carefully staggered to minimize risks--no place visited too often.

One night by purest chance, I happened upon a fellow pervert. Two motels on the highway north of town offered a safe opportunity especially in the summertime when tourists flooded the area heading to the national park. The motels were the older type that backed up to a heavily wooded area. The bedrooms and bathrooms had windows with ill-fitting curtains. Perfect opportunities for premium views.

One late July night as I was coming home late from work, I noticed a station wagon pull into the office of them. I immediately parked, circled around and silently worked my way through the forest to see what there was to see. As usual doing those adventures, my throat was dry, and my heart was beating wildly from the adrenalin rush. To my surprise I came upon a guy peeking in one window furiously jacking his cock at what he was viewing. I immediately ducked back into the woods. I do not know why I was so astonished to see him. I knew that others must share my kink, but in all the years of peeping I had never run into another. I ducked down. The light clicked off and my fellow pervert tucked his cock away and silently departed but not before I saw his face. I knew him. He was the broker who had arranged one of my mortgages, one of the deacons of my church!

My mind was in a whirl about what to do with this knowledge. I thought to leave but as luck would have it another light clicked on, and I got a memorable sight of a fat granny type undressing in the bathroom. She disrobed first the blouse then her bra letting two enormous tits flop down. Some awesome earthiness about her. Her panties were next a fat belly hung down and almost hid her hairy cunt. She scratched her huge titties reached down and ran a finger through her pussy and sniffed it. Next, she sat on the toilet, sighed, farted and let loose a torrent of piss that I could hear through the open window. As she was pissing her skinny hubby walked his little cock at half-mast.

“Give us a sucking mommy. It’s your turn and cocky needs a good sucking.”

“Okay, daddy but you need to take your turn on my cunny”.

He walked over to her and held his cock for her to suck.

As she was pissing...

“Oh, that’s good mommy. Give us a taste of your cunny piss then.”

Her hand disappointed between her fat thighs and then to his mouth. He sucked her fingers, groaned and pumped his cum into her greedy mouth. She swallowed every drop.

Amazing, glorious sight. I was jealous of that sucking mouth. I was jealous of their sex talk.

She stood without wiping her pussy. Her big belly sagged down and covered her cunt. “Your turn to suck mommy’s cunny.” She waddled out of the room hubby obediently following.

They turned out the lights.

Drat.

A couple of months passed and one Saturday morning for a round of golf, I ended up paired with the guy I’d seen peeping that night behind the motel. No surprise there, our town was small and we both moved in the same circles. We were bound to meet up eventually. Surprisingly we got along great. We agreed to meet up next Saturday for another round.

Of course, I remained coy about my hobby. I wasn’t sure I could trust him or rather trust his discretion. My rules insisted I keep my hobby a secret to the end, but I was intensely curious to share experiences with another who shared my kink, so I waited for the perfect opportunity bring things out into the open

Three months later, after our regular round of golf, I gave him a lift home. His car was in the shop. He mentioned a camera he had sent away for. A miniature spy camera. Now that was interesting. I could see all kinds of possibilities for that. It had never occurred to me to use technology.

I glanced over to him as I drove and caught him staring at me intently. “Of course, a person could get into trouble with one of those. There are stories of criminal types using them to look up women’s dresses.”

“Huh,” I said. “That’s interesting.”

He laughed. “Come on Jake. This has gone on long enough. I know you saw me, and I know I saw you that night outside the motel.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to bring it up. I thought meeting you at golf was a fortunate thing, but it wasn’t, huh?”

We both laughed. I told him about the fat lady sucking her “daddy’s” dick. He shared that he’d been rewarded by the sight of a honeymooning couple fucking.

We talked for an hour or so, sharing stories. He had a similar set of rules that I did. Of course, we were both pretty reticent about places and people but all in all it was a nice connection.