I decided to splurge when I made the reservation for the hotel. After all, this was an important business conference for me, and I was going to be in the city for only a couple of nights. My plane flights were going to be a grueling five hours, with two change of planes. So I knew I'd be tired, and the idea of suffering with a cheap motel room was not appealing. I called one of those luxury downtown hotels. It was one of the new ones, built in a triangle around a huge central atrium..., glass elevators, balcony hall-ways draped in lush greenery around the atrium. And I asked for a luxury suite with a king-size bed and a separate living room. I wanted to take care of myself for a change. Hopefully, the conference would lead to some profitable business connections that would make the expense of this hotel seem insignificant.

I had wanted to check into my room as soon as I arrived in the city, but of course the flights were late, and the traffic into the city made me so late that I had to go right to the banquet that opened the conference. What I really wanted was a shower, and an hour to relax and compose myself. But I put on my best face, and freshened up in the restaurant's bathroom.

The dinner and innumerable speeches dragged on and on til late at night. But the other people assigned to my table turned out to be interested in the services that my company could offer. By the time that the dessert plates were being picked off of the tables by the bus-boys, I had informally finalized several lucrative deals, and my table mates invited me out for drinks at the restaurant's bar. I was by this time totally exhausted by my the long day (including three time zone changes) but I felt that it was important to be gracious in accepting their offer to continue talking. The fact that they were all men, and that I was probably the most attractive woman in the crowd, was not lost on me, but I determined to keep things on a business level. The conversation over drinks was loaded with their mischievous double-entendres, which I let go unchallenged.

Finally, we made arrangements to reconvene our discussions at the next night's dinner, and we all traded business cards. When the party broke up, I caught a cab back to the hotel. I couldn't believe it when I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost two in the morning. I was actually just getting a second wind, as if my deep feeling of tiredness was overcome with the triumph of making the deals with my dinner partners. I had to admit to myself that there was kind of an erotic charge to the way that I was feeling. Kind of keyed up, and also kind of out of control from my exhaustion. Not much I was going to be able to do about it except masturbate in my room, but that can be great, so I started to think about that as I finally reached the hotel and went through my belated check-in. I was so late that there was not even a bell-hop on duty, so the man at the front desk told me how to get to my room on my own. I pulled my suitcase into the elevator, and as it took me to the top floor, I could see the entire interior of the atrium, with row after row of rooms wrapped around the balconies. There were 20 stories to this place. Each of the rooms had a large window that face into the atrium, and most of them were dark. A few had the lights on, but were shielded by curtains. My sexually oriented thoughts led me to wonder what was going on in each of those rooms. Momentary images of all sorts of couplings flashed through my mind's eye. Walking along the long balcony to my room, I passed by dozens of rooms, and I found myself glancing at the windows. Several had lights on, but the curtains assured the privacy of the inhabitants.

But one room had the curtains partly open, and as I passed, I snuck a look. Inside was a scene that froze me in my tracks. The room was lit by only the flickering bluish illumination from the TV set. On the screen was a soft-core porno movie, the kind that hotels make available for an extra charge. There were the two occupants of the room. The woman was naked, and she was leaning over the back of a big overstuffed armchair, facing toward the TV, with her large breasts draped over the back cushion. The man was standing behind her, fucking his cock deep into her cunt. His hands were squeezing and massaging her ass cheeks so hard that I could see the white streaks on her red and sweaty skin, where his fingers had pushed the blood from her flesh. They were situated so that they were sideways to me, and as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of her, I could see the incredible length become exposed and then disappear again. He was so long and hard and wet, and on the back stroke, her cunt lips clung to his cock, as if they were trying to pull him back into her clutching vagina. His balls swung forwards and back, coming into view briefly with each thrust. She pulled her hands up to start pinching both her nipples into long hard gumdrops.

The two of them were transfixed on the images dispalyed on the TV, mesmerized by the athletic threesome that are frolicking on the screen. Then he looked down at her ass and purposely drooled a long string of spit into the crease between her ass cheeks. The thumb of one hand chased after the moisture. I couldn't really see what he was doing, but it was easy to guess that his fattest finger was rubbing around her asshole, and when I saw his hand twist around, I knew that he had slipped his thumb into her. When he did that, her back stiffened and her body kind of jerked a bit, as if she were objecting. For myself, I know that I would be more than objecting. I like a little teasing around my asshole, but penetrating it is just not my thing. For this woman that I was spying on, anal penetration was apparently OK, because after a few seconds, she seemed to relax, and she went back to watching the movie and pulling on her nipples. Her chest was heaving and her rising excitement was increasingly evident. As was the man's — he had been very controlled in pacing his deep fucking motions, but now the thrusts were getting deeper than ever, and faster and faster. With the hand that was not involved with penetrating her ass, he started to slap playfully at the skin of her ass and back. Not the kind of slap that would be painful. These were light slaps, designed to heighten her skin's aliveness and sensitivity, like a splash of cold water. She didn't seem to mind at all, and in fact her head started to pivot around, flailing her short black hair around her ears, eyes wild with feverish lust.

That's how she saw me. Her head stopped suddenly and her eyes locked on the window were I was standing, brazenly watching their supposedly private act. At first she looked shocked and worried, but that passed in an instant. her eyes widened and she licked her tongue around her lips in a broad circle, wickedly smirking at me. Her stare made me aware of my own appearance, and I realized that my hand was pressed into the material of my dress, insinuating itself into the folds of my cunt. I was pressing hard into my vulva, cushioned my the thick skirt and panties that separated my fingers from my cunt, from the silky moisture that had wet my panties. Her smirk was to let me know that she was the one getting the true satisfaction from the shaft of wet flesh that was filling her. I was the one that had to be content with observing her complete pleasure. Her lips opened again, and I could see (but not hear) that she was saying something to her partner. He swung his head toward me and leered at me, laughing at my appearance through the window.

This was finally too much for me. My embarrassment at being caught overwhelmed my hypnotic interest in their animalistic fucking, and I pulled my eyes away from theirs, and pulled my hand away from my cunt. I grabbed my suitcase and finally continued down the balcony toward my room, which was only two doors further, being the last room on this wall. And my embarrassment at being caught by the couple was then made much worse, because there was someone else looking at me! He was in the room directly ahead of me at the end of the balcony. His room was catty corner to the one that I was soon to claim. Only his head was visible through the small gap in his curtains, but it was clear that his attention was focused on me, and I had no doubt that he had been watching me, as I in turn watched the other couple. As I reached into my purse to get my key, I averted my eyes from his, and struggled to open the lock and attain the sanctuary of my own room. I was so flustered that it took a while to get the key in correctly. Finally the door opened for me and as I turned back toward the hall for my suitcase, I again locked eyes with his. Something about him was reassuring, but being caught twice within one minute was kind of humiliating. In fact, I knew that I wouldn't feel safe until I was locked in my room.

When I closed the door behind me and flipped on the light, I just stood frozen for a timeless moment. My heartbeat gradually slowed from a hummingbird's pace to something more human. I realized that I had been holding my breath, and I forced myself to take deep long inhalations. Eventually, I got myself back to some semblance of self control, and I took stock of what had happened, of what I was feeling, and of the fact that I was now safely ensconced in my luxury suite.

Something about this feeling of fear reminded me of another situation — the time that I had snuck into a health club with a friend, so that we could use the jacuzzi late at night. Our privacy that night had been interrupted by three college boys that had also snuck into the club. Hearing them in the hallway that night had petrified me with fear, but I remembered clearly that it had also been an incredibly erotic turn-on. That night was the subject of one of my stories (Slippery When Wet). It made me realize that sometimes fear and sex can be connected at some level. And that is what was happening for me right now. I was scared of the consequences of being caught being a naughty voyeur, but I was also turned-on. Not only by what I had seen through the window as the man and woman were fucking doggy-style. Also by the fact that I had been seen with my hand between my thighs by a complete stranger, late at night on the balcony of the 20th floor of a glamorous hotel across the country from my home.

This train of thought reminded me of what it was that I had been caught doing. I had sort of been masturbating, and my panties were still sticky-wet with my juices. Now that I was safe in my own room, I could complete what I had started. I wondered if I should go on through the suite to the bedroom, and when I looked around to see how the rooms were laid out, I immediately noticed that the curtains to the atrium-side windows were open. My first thought was that I should, of course, close them. When I went over to do that, I looked out to the balcony, and immediately I saw the man again, in the room catty corner to mine. Because the hotel was built in a triangular shape, the rooms to each side of the inner corners actually faced inwards toward each other. Through my window, I was looking almost directly into his window, his room, and his face — it couldn't be more than six feet separating us. This stopped me cold.

His hands held the curtains to either side of him, so that they were pulled wider than before. Now I could see his entire body, from his knees up. He was wearing a navy blue terry cloth robe, and I could discern right away that he was much older than me, maybe 60 years old or more. Gray hair, some facial wrinkles, and a wise and gentle countenance. His smile was sincere and amiable. Glancing downward, I could see the hint of a bulge beneath his robe, evidence that his cock was partially erect and tenting the fabric away from his thighs. Looking back up to his face, I knew that he had followed my wandering peek at his crotch, and he took his hand from the edge of the curtain and let it slowly move to the knot at the belt of his robe. When he pulled at the knot of the belt, the thick terry cloth parted as he held it to the sides with his hands on his hips, revealing the front of his torso. The pink skin of his chest was tufted with gray hair. For his age, I could see that he kept himself in pretty good shape, for his stomach was firm, and only a few wrinkles creased his skin.