Lucky Days [a voyeur's perspective]

Welcome,

I am writing this thread as a place to keep my thoughts and experiences. I thought about writing an experience blog, but a blog without pictures is boring. If I do I will link to it here.

I am hoping to create a scratch page of ideas that i can eventually develop into a story to submit to literotica proper. Part of my process is allowing those ideas to be exposed (appropriate for a voyeur, huh).

Comments are welcome and appreciated. Feel free to contribute your own experiences as well.

I am writing for myself in the voyeurism / exhibitionist niche. Obviously, my writing would be interesting to those with similar tastes.

Thanks for stopping by.

My best,

Guy

Interview

I am standing in narrow hall just outside a large closet disguised as an interview room. I arrived exactly on the hour to meet with the recruiter. If this was a business interview I would already be late, but this is for the public sector. I peek my head around the corner and see a pair of crossed legs in sheer black nylons. I look past her knee to an empty chair. I am still choking on a piece of bagel that I inhaled while rushing to the appointment. I swallow hard, and breath freely.

I enter the room and we exchange pleasantries and I sit in a chair opposite hers. There is supposed to be a third member joining our party. I can’t imagine where when I notice out of the corner of my eye a third chair buried under the small round table we are sitting at. She is professional and makes good eye contact. She has big eyes and a Midwest tan. She is wearing a modest black and white pattern dress that ends somewhere above the knee. Her dress is currently riding up her thigh which is pleasantly displayed. She uncrosses her legs; her nylons protect her modesty. She crosses her legs again and her dress rides up to the bottom of her ass.

I look directly into her eyes which are focused on me even as she fidgets with her dress. I am waiting for her to drop her gaze. I offer her my resume. She takes the bait. Her eyes drop to scan the document and my eyes scan her body. She stumbles through my resume; she is nervous. She has a pretty face, small tits with a curvy frame. Her crossed legs reveal nothing; my eyes cover the smooth curve of her thigh and bottom.

We talk. We each take turns asking questions. In my mind I imagine closing the door that is still ajar. I imagine sitting her up on the table. My hands brush over her calves and thighs. I imagine spreading her legs open and watching that proper dress retreat. I imagine the moistness I would feel as I rub her mound with the pads of my fingers.

She uncrosses her legs. My eyes dart down, peering into the darkness of her black nylons to snap a quick mental photograph before my eyes come back up to meet her’s. She caught me. She probably caught me before. Is that why she stumbled through my resume? I ask a few more questions to indicate that I am interested in the position and to extend this little encounter. This must be my lucky day.

That night I send her an email, “It was a pleasure meeting you. I enjoyed our conversation.” I wonder if she will pick up on the subtle point that I found pleasure in physically meeting her. I know it. That is all that matters.

The next morning (while I write this.) she responded back, “I really enjoyed our conversation. Thanks for coming.”

Ms. Cardigan

2/25/11
I have been keeping an eye on Ms. Cardigan these last few weeks. I've wondered if she wears a padded bra? I was walking in the hall yesterday and realized she was in front of me. She really works it when she walks. She has been blessed. She had on a light white tee with a sports bra underneath.

2/2/11
The other day I was sitting in class and a young coed on the front row caught my attention. She had a deep v-neck tee-shirt which exposed the deep cleavage of her large breasts. A few seconds later she put on her cardigan. Now, I make it a point to look for her in class to see what she has on. She is usually wearing a sweater.

I look forward to late spring, when all the girls shed their coats and "take the twins for a walk (Robin Williams*)." Especially, Ms. Cardigan.


*Robin Williams, Live on Broadway, "But the most beautiful thing about a day like today in NY is that the ladies take the twins for a walk! Oh, yeah, the titties are out today!"

Parched

I sip at the bright sunny day; its warmth fills me and I realize how parched I am. The first day of spring arrived early this year. I wish I hadn’t brought my coat and wonder if Ms. Cardigan feels the same way.
As it turns out Ms. Cardigan has turned in her soft wool sweater for an army green button up shirt and a brown tank-top. She has a casual army theme that reminds me of Old Navy. Her breasts push out against the faded cotton and her cleavage barely peeks out over the collar of her shirt before deciding to stay inside today. So, I turned my attention else ware.
Every other class I can expect my neighbor to look inside her bag, presenting her breasts in the process. There is a difference between presented breasts and the classic down-blouse experience. Presentation creates cleavage by lifting and pressing the breasts in towards each other. This is a classic in lingerie; Victoria’s Secret is the industry leader in breast presentation with the WonderBra. Every other class period Victoria’s secret is out. She leans forward her breasts meet and rise up and create a dark cleavage line.
Today, Victoria’s secret reveals a classic down-blouse experience. We both arrive before class. She turns in her chair, her shoulders square with my line of sight. She leans forward, looking into her bag. The collar of her tee-shirt hangs low, opening my line of sight. There is a pronounced gap between her breasts. I like to see deep cleavage. In the gap I can see the under-wire of her bra; there is a dark shadow along the inside edge of her cups. Her breasts fill both cups with a nice round curve that fills in the gap slightly. And then it is over.

The park bench

There is a co-ed sitting on a bench in the park. Her legs stretch out in front of her, her feet resting in her bag. It is a warm day out, the warmest this year. Co-eds like to study on the grass and in the park. I prefer a desk at the library, but I didn’t come out to study. I pick a bench about 20 feet away and drop my bag down.

I didn’t expect her to be wearing a summer skirt; it is a bright peach color. She has on white top, it is cotton and fits very close. It contrasts her dress nicely which is light and airy and drapes across her thighs. Her knees are exposed and I can she a little bit of her thigh in the shadows behind her calves. I take out my cell phone and pretend to check my messages.

I wonder, does she know what she is doing? Is it intentional, purposeful? Satisfied that I will want to stay for a while longer I put away my phone and take out some notes to study. I begin the process of committing my notes to memory while I look around. It really is a great day out. The sun is warm and the wind doesn’t bite.

A gust blows past me and I look towards the co-ed on the bench. The wind blows past her. Her skirt opens up in a wide, lazy yawn. Her arm comes down to flatten out her dress, but she doesn’t notice it hanging open to the side. Her skin is white from the long winter months. I look past her knees and up her thigh. It has a nice tone, her leg is smooth.

A few minutes later she drops one leg down off the side of the bench. Her skirt rises up to expose her splayed thighs. On fist glance she has on black panties; this is the shadow of her thighs. My eyes explore her. My gaze reaches under her bright peach dress at the exposed warm orange underneath. I undress the shadows hoping to push deeper.

I casually look away and wonder. Does she know? I look back at the fiery orange hue under her skirt. I try to sneak further in. I follow the curve of her thigh up her skirt and loose my way as they disappear into the dark shadows.

Not once has she looked my way. How could she know? Eventually, she packs her things and leaves. I fold the page in my hand and rehearse them.