The Shower Harem
Voyeurism, Hetero sex

This is an account of my experiences with
voyeurism. I'm now in a different city and
different circumstances than I was when these
events took place, and I felt a desire to record
my experiences while they were still relatively
fresh in my mind. Every word of this is true, to
the best abilities of my memory. I've made a point
not to embellish or exaggerate anything. This is
long, and some of it isn't all that pleasant, but
I hope that anyone who bothers to read the whole
thing will find at least portions of it
interesting.

I had the normal sorts of experiences with
voyeurism while growing up. I spied on a classmate
peeing in the woods and tried to look in
neighbors' windows, things like that. When I was
thirteen I happened to ride my bike past a high
school girl giving a boy a hummer in the front
seat of a car, and kept circling them, looking in
the windows, until the guy screamed at me.

But my first real voyeur experience was an ugly
one that took place five years later. It was my
first semester at college. I had enrolled late,
and since the housing office had no more dorm
space I was given an apartment to share with
another student in a high-rise apartment complex
outside the city. On the first night I was there,
I opened a window and leaned out to admire the
skyline. As I turned around to come in, I suddenly
found myself looking straight into another
apartment, on the floor below. A young blonde
woman, kind of chubby, with a frizzy perm, was
sitting on her sofa and talking on the telephone.
Our eyes met at exactly the same time and we both
jumped a little in surprise. Then we smiled at
each other and I pulled my head in and closed the
window.

I sat down and read awhile, but something about
this made me feel itchy. About half an hour later
I quietly opened the window again and casually
glanced into the other apartment. The woman had
turned on her lights and was laying back on the
sofa with a large pillow covering her. She saw me
looking in, hesitated a second and then pulled the
pillow away. She was naked except for a pair of
panties. She had large, floppy breasts with big
nipples and as I watched she started to stroke and
squeeze them. I was so stunned that I just stood
there. It was my first day of college, I was in a
strange city, and already I was in a bizarre
sexual situation. I was amazed that real women
actually did things like this. I didn't find her
very attractive, but she'd obviously been waiting
to put on a show for me, and I felt that if I
didn't watch I'd hurt her feelings.

I wasn't sure what to do---whether I should just
look, or encourage her in some way, or play with
myself, too. So I pointed towards her crotch,
encouraging her to take off her panties. She
startled, reached down between her legs for a
second, then quickly pulled the pillow over
herself and angrily waved me away. I closed the
window, sat down and thought, "Well." My roommate
came home; we talked for awhile and then he
started cooking.

About half an hour later there was a knock on the
door. The blonde girl (fully dressed) was standing
there with a short, black-haired woman. This other
woman started yelling at me for being a peeping
tom and asked me if I was a little child. I assume
this was a rhetorical question. The blonde woman
just glared at me. Up close I could see she was a
real cow, with a beefy red face. The black-haired
woman said she was going to tell the building
manager about me, and at this point I closed the
door on their faces and locked it.

I was too surprised to really be angry, though I
should have been. I had just been being polite by
looking at the fat skank. I was stunned that she'd
flashed me and then got me in trouble when I
looked---it seemed like she'd set me up and then
betrayed me. (I've since learned the hard way that
this double standard is a fairly typical female
attitude towards voyeurs.) Nobody else ever said
anything to me, and I never saw her again, but
despite myself I felt guilty for the rest of my
stay in the building.

I was pretty lonesome that whole school year, and
so the next year I signed up for a dorm on campus,
hoping to meet more people. I was assigned a room
on a coed floor, directly across from the boys'
showers. The boys' and girls' showers had
apparently been originally built as one large
room, and at some point a cinder block wall had
been installed to separate them. There was one
cinder block missing from the dividing wall at the
floor to allow for drainage, and if you knelt down
and put your face near the floor you could see
through. The showers had no stalls or curtains;
they were just nozzles set into the walls, and so
students were totally exposed when they showered.
My first reaction was amazement that there weren't
crowds of guys congregating at the missing block
every time a girl turned the water on. Then I told
myself that I was perverted and that everyone else
had too much trust and respect for each other to
do something like that. I resolved to keep away
from the hole.

So I made friends with a clear conscience. I went
out with a few different girls and eventually
started a "serious" relationship with a girl who
lived a few doors down from me in the dorm. For a
while I was so happy with her that I couldn't have
cared less about seeing anyone else. As we settled
down, though, the shower thing started to gnaw at
me. Since my room was right near the bathroom
door, I could hear the faint rush of water every
time a girl started a shower. I couldn't stop
thinking about the young naked bodies on the other
side of my door. I wondered if any of the other
guys had been looking through, and if I was
missing out on something.

One afternoon I got off of the elevator and saw
one of the cuter girls on the floor walking
towards the girl's showers with a bathrobe and a
towel. She smiled at me as she passed. There was
almost no one else on the floor and I thought,
"I'm gonna do it." I went back to my room and got
my shower stuff, so I would have an excuse if
someone saw me, then I went into the boy's room
and jammed the door shut, so it would make a noise
if someone opened it. I checked to see that no one
was in the stalls, then went to the opening in the
wall and knelt down.

My heart was pounding savagely as I peered through
the opening. At first couldn't tell what I was
looking at. Then I saw tiles and a pair of naked
feet, pointing towards me, about five feet away. I
leapt back. I anticipated loud screaming and then
expulsion from the university. When that didn't
happen I carefully tried again. I was paranoid
about just sticking my face into the hole, so I
kept glancing through and then jumping back, never
actually seeing above the girl's ankles. Finally I
saw shampoo foam splashing on the floor, and I
figured she wouldn't be looking. I carefully bent
down lower and lower, until my face was nearly on
the floor and I was looking straight through.

I'd almost expected to find that there was some
kind of barrier or covering, and that I wouldn't
be able to actually see anything.
But---hallelujah!---I could see nearly the whole
girls' shower room, from the floor to about four
feet up the far wall. The girl was really standing
there, totally nude, washing her hair.

This girl was short and slender, and had her back
to me, with her legs slightly apart. She was very
tan but her little ass cheeks were pale white,
which made them look especially naked and cute. I
could see hints of hairy darkness at the bottom.
After a moment she turned around and I saw her
front. She had a very smooth, flat belly and a
little crotchful of dark pubic hair, with a
triangle of white untanned skin around it. Shampoo
foam was dripping all down her hips and legs and
getting caught in her mound.

I was so nervous that my penis had crawled back
into my body, but I felt ecstatic. This 17-year
old babe was standing nude only feet away from me,
totally oblivious, and I was able to enjoy every
inch of her. I can't explain exactly why I found
it so exciting, but it wasn't just the sight of
nudity. It was the sense that I was peeking in on
something secret and private, and the feeling of
danger and anticipation. My erotic pleasure was so
intense that I didn't even feel like I was doing
something wrong; I almost felt like I deserved
this reward because of the risk I was taking.

The girl finished her shower and left, and I stood
up, dizzy and shaking with excitement, and took a
shower myself. I was very aroused, but for once in
my life, I felt no desire to stimulate myself. The
event had already passed.

After this I was addicted. Those few minutes in
the shower room had been one of the most intense
sexual experiences of my life. I felt a twinge of
excitement and pleasure every time I saw the girl
later on campus. Previously we'd hardly even known
each other, but now I knew her intimate secrets,
and she wasn't even aware of it. This was as good
as sex with none of the hassles.

I went in to peep again and again, and worked out
various strategies to avoid discovery. The peak
morning hours were impossible because other guys
were around, but there were far more girls on the
floor than boys, and they seemed to shower more
frequently. In the afternoon or nighttime I
usually managed to look through undisturbed. I
kept my towel and bathrobe handy so I could be
ready to jog into the showers at a moment's
notice.

One by one I "cataloged" nearly every girl on the
floor. I would peer through the hole, examine
their naked legs and torsos, and try to decide who
I was looking at. I became expert in the pattern
of each girl's tan lines, and the color and volume
of their pubic hair. I knew which girls trimmed
their bushes and which ones had little lines of
hair running down from their belly buttons. I
observed that one girl had splotches of brown
pigment on one of her butt cheeks.

I especially enjoyed seeing the girls later on in
the hall or on campus, all dolled up and cocky in
their hip college clothes. I'd compare their
public selves with the images of their little wet
bodies standing naked in the shower-room, and
smile to myself. I remember watching one arrogant
girl strut by me in the cafeteria, way out of my
league, and thinking, "Hey, I've seen your hairy
asshole, sweetheart."

I enjoyed observing my friends, too---secretly
watching them strip naked and wash their bodies,
and then innocently chatting with them minutes
later, gave me a certain insouciance. I felt like
these teenage girls on the floor were my secret
little harem, and I walked around with happy
images of their nude bodies in my mind's eye. Wet
tiles and splashing water took on powerful sexual
associations for me, which persist to this day.

Usually I saw nothing but legs and drippy pubic
hair, but a few times the gates of paradise opened
and I gazed upon actual pussy lips. A number of
girls squatted down or kneeled while shaving their
legs, which presented opportunities if the angles
were right. I got my best view one time when my
girlfriend's roommate was showering. She was a
good-looking TV journalism major who was in the
Army Reserves to get money for school, and she was
always running off somewhere. This particular day
she was in a real rush. I watched her frenetically
wash herself with a soapy washcloth and then bend
over at the waist to hang her long hair down into
the water flow and shampoo it. She had backed a
little bit towards me with her feet about thirty
inches apart, and the display as she bent over
stunned me. Her brown cunt lips were spread open
directly in front of my face. I could check off
each area like it was on a medical chart:
clitoris, urethra, vagina, labia. A little
puckered asshole was just above. Her face was down
between her knees, and if she'd opened her eyes
she would have been looking right at me, but the
view was well worth the risk I was taking. As I
stared I actually got splashed with some of her
shampoo. She never saw me, but I definitely saw
her.

Another time I looked through the hole and just
saw some hair and a red wormy thing---I was so
startled that I jumped back and only realized
after a second what it was. Apparently some horny
girl was squatting right in front of the hole,
expecting someone to look through at her. I was so
shaken that I left and never found out who it was.
I also remember an athletic black girl who washed
herself barehanded with body shampoo and cleaned
her cunt by spreading her crotch apart and wiping
it. I got several good looks at her pussy; she had
lips that were dark brown on the outside and
bright pink on the inside, which was rather
interesting.

And there was also a friend of mine who was very
small, slim and pale, with only a thin patch of
light blonde pubic hair, but with a large pink
cunt which poked out of her cleft a half-inch or
more, even when she was standing upright. She was
a very sweet neo-hippie-type art student, whose
parents were wealthy and who followed the Dead. In
"real" life she was going out with some doofus and
we were just platonic friends, but in the
shower-room I found the sight of her body almost
unbearably erotic: this tiny pale girl with a huge
pink pussy you could lose your car keys in. I
could always identify her instantly because she
wore a little woven ankle bracelet. She was
probably my favorite.

I liked watching even the unattractive girls. I
felt like I was doing a kind of research. There
was an annoying, loudmouth girl who took about
three showers a day, and I actually got sick and
tired of seeing her scrawny wet body all the time.
There was a grunge-rock-type girl who didn't shave
her legs, and had calves at least as hairy as
mine. I had to look twice at her crotch to verify
she was female. There was a very shy exchange
student from Mexico who got up at three in the
morning to shower when no one else was around. I
took cool pleasure in observing her hapless virgin
flesh.

The one thing I couldn't stand was seeing
overweight girls naked, but fortunately there
weren't too many fatsos on our floor. There were
girls I wanted to see but who evaded me, including
our cute, Meg-Ryan-ish resident assistant, and two
athletic lesbians from the girls' basketball team,
who apparently took all their showers at the gym.
I kept hoping to see some girl cut loose and
urinate while showering, but this never happened
as far as I could tell.

I only masturbated once out of the dozens of times
I peeped. I was usually too excited and nervous to
really have an erection, and I had to kneel down
with my stomach pressed against my thighs so there
really wasn't room for one anyway. But one time I
was watching that first girl I'd seen, who always
excited me a lot, and I squeezed my hand in and
started rubbing my penis through my flannel
bathrobe. Immediately I felt a flood of sensation
go rushing up my spine and an incredible tightness
in my pelvis, and before I knew it I'd ejaculated
without even getting a full hard-on. The orgasm
was so intense that for a minute or so I heard
rushing in my ears and saw little bright flashes
in my eyes, and I had to sit down on the floor. My
bathrobe was a mess of semen. Then another guy
came into the bathroom, and I had to quickly jump
up and compose myself.

During all this time I was still seeing my
girlfriend, going to classes and hanging out with
my friends. I had a double life: as a normal
student and as a shower-peeping fiend. I wasn't
sure if people on the floor knew what was going
on. Other students would certainly have noticed me
acting suspiciously if they had bothered to care.
I couldn't believe that I was the only guy doing
this, and that the girls weren't more
self-conscious about being seen. There were some
girls who started avoiding the shower heads across
from the hole and going to the ones which were out
of sight, but I didn't know if this meant I'd been
discovered.

Finally about three-quarters of the way through
the school year my own girlfriend accidentally put
an end to my hobby. She contracted a yeast
infection, and had to apply Monistat vaginal
suppositories and cream twice a day. She told the
college gynecologist that she was embarrassed
doing this in the open showers. When the doctor
found out there was no privacy in the dorm
bathrooms she made a phone call and within a week
workmen arrived and installed walls and curtains
around all the shower heads. I was actually rather
relieved, and for awhile I stopped peeping
altogether.

Towards the end of the semester, though, I started
looking through again. I was really looking for
one particular girl. My girlfriend's original
roommate had switched rooms (mostly because I was
in there all the time) and a new one moved in, an
attractive but bitchy girl with a black pageboy
haircut. Although we were both pseudo-hip film
students, we disliked each other and argued a lot.
This naturally made me very hot for her. This girl
had a little green plastic basket that she carried
into the shower to hold her things. Whenever I
looked through the hole I scanned for the basket.
I found her in the shower a couple of times but
was never able to actually see anything. I became
almost desperate---it was driving me crazy that I
had the opportunity to see my nemesis nude but was
going to miss it forever.

Finally one morning, a couple weeks before the
semester ended, I heard a shower start and went to
look through. The green basket was there on the
floor next to a closed shower curtain. I saw a
hand reach out into the basket, grab something,
and disappear again. There was a brief pause, and
then slowly the shower curtain pulled away, until
it was open about eight inches, and I could see a
foot and a shinbone facing me. Apparently the
roommate could tell that someone was looking
through, and was holding back the curtain to look
out.

I was excited but terrified. I had no way of
knowing whether she was deliberately displaying
herself out of erotic excitement, or whether she
was just trying to get a better look so she could
call campus security. I carefully leaned down and
looked further and further up her leg. I was
stunned when I reached her pudendum and saw that
her other hand was in her pubic hair. She had a
very thick bush and she wasn't actually fingering
her cunt, she was tugging and stroking at the hair
around it. It looked like she wanted to play with
herself but was unwilling to actually touch the
lips. I was almost psychotically aroused and felt
like yelling out to her through the hole to just
squat down and give it to me. This didn't happen,
though, and after a minute she stepped back and
the curtain closed again. I stood up and realized
that I'd been holding my breath and trembling.

I took a shower and returned to my room to lie
down, exhausted but exhilarated by the experience.
A couple of minutes later, my girlfriend knocked
on the door, looking very distraught, and asked me
if I'd just taken a shower. When I said "Yes" she
started to cry. Although I kept asking what was
wrong (as if I didn't know), she wouldn't tell me,
and in fact never said anything more about it.
(She was the kind of girl, unfortunately, who
would prefer to sulk and act victimized than deal
with an issue.)

Even though I'd obviously been found out, I didn't
feel particularly ashamed, and still don't; I'd
enjoyed the experience too much. If other students
knew about my habits, they never showed it, and my
girlfriend's roommate even started acting friendly
and affectionate towards me, like we'd become
pals. Nevertheless, I was kind of relieved to
finally leave the dormitory and put this
particular obsession behind me.


Mirror in the Bathroom

When summer came I rented a sublet in the center
of town with another student. After moving in, I
casually checked to see if any of the windows had
views into other apartments. It looked like I was
out of luck, until I discovered that by standing
on a windowsill and pressing my face against the
edge of the window, I could see into the bathroom
of an apartment in the building next door. I had a
nice perpendicular view of the toilet and bathroom
sink. I checked on the bathroom sporadically, and
was pleased to discover that it belonged to a
fairly attractive young couple.

It turned out, though, that the only pussy I ended
up seeing was the kind with whiskers. The couple
had a black cat which seemed to spend most of its
hours on earth sitting on the sill of their
bathroom window, looking out. It was probably just
an illusion, but every time I looked over it
seemed that the cat was staring right at me.
What's worse, the cat's body blocked the crucial
part of my view. When it was on the sill, I could
only see the upper torsos of anyone in the
bathroom.

So I looked over only occasionally. I was pretty
socially active that summer, and my roommate was
often around, so I didn't really have the time or
inclination for voyeurism anyway. Once, though, I
did get an informative display of the woman
urinating. She came into the bathroom, pulled her
pants down to her knees, then sat on the toilet
seat and stared slackly in front of her while she
peed. When she wiped, she reached under her butt
cheek and did it from the side, which interested
me because I'd always assumed that women wiped
from the front. When she stood and pulled her
pants up, I got a glimpse of her hips and pubic
hair. She didn't wash her hands when she left the
bathroom.

The other worthwhile sight I caught was when the
guy came into the bathroom naked, with a hard-on.
I noted with pleasure that his erect phallus was
substantially smaller than mine. He got a condom
out of the medicine chest and left the bathroom,
then came back only a couple minutes later,
peeling the condom off. Not exactly a marathon man
in bed, it would seem.

At the end of the next school year, my girlfriend
and I did something which we should have known
would be a disaster. We rented an apartment in the
city with one of her friends from high school.
Money was the motivation: the girl wanted to visit
the city for the summer, and splitting the rent
three ways saved us all a lot of cash.

The old high-school friend---I'll call her
Sue---was a student at a college in another state.
She was the kind of girl who looked excellent from
a distance, but then when you saw her more closely
and listened to her talk you started to wonder.
She had a sexy, slim body and nice hair, and
always wore expensive, tasteful clothes. (She was
majoring in fashion merchandising.) But something
about her face was a bit off, and she spoke in an
odd nasal voice. My girlfriend told me that she'd
been kind of shy and unpopular in high school.
She'd grown into a fairly fashionable young woman
but still seemed slightly strange.

When she moved in with us, my girlfriend was
unaware that on a previous visit, when I was very
drunk, I'd made a crude pass at Sue. She'd refused
me, of course, and the next day I was very
apologetic. When she'd returned to her college,
though, I got a letter from her saying that she
wasn't upset at all, because she was attracted to
me, and that if it weren't for my girlfriend she
wouldn't have turned me down. I was amused when I
sniffed the letter and realized that she'd scented
it. I filed this confession away for possible
future use.

The apartment we all rented was on the ground
floor of a converted townhouse. Two bedrooms and a
bathroom door were in a row, separated by little
swinging doors. You had to walk through the first
bedroom to go to the bathroom or get to the second
bedroom. Both bedrooms had big, oversize windows
which faced across a small closed alley, to the
windows of another apartment on the same floor.

My girlfriend and I moved our futon into the first
bedroom, which was larger, and Sue stayed in the
second bedroom. We tried putting curtains on the
windows but they were so big that none of the
standard sizes would fit. The windows across the
alley were totally covered, so we didn't worry
about it.

We all got along fine at first. All three of us
had day jobs, but on evenings and weekends we went
out and tried to get served in bars, or watched
videotapes while eating sundaes. Sex between my
girlfriend and I improved substantially. (She was
always more sexually excited when someone was in
the next room---particularly my parents.) My
girlfriend confessed to me that she was attracted
to Sue and had secretly fantasized about trying a
lesbian experience with her. Needless to say, I
also fantasized about having a heterosexual
experience with her, only not so secretly. My
dedication to monogamy was not all that strong.
The fact that my girlfriend visited her family
frequently, leaving Sue and I alone, didn't help
things any.

Before long I did make a move. One Friday evening
after seeing my girlfriend off at the bus station,
Sue and I went to a happy hour at a restaurant
that had nickel drafts and a buffet. The place was
jammed and so noisy that we had to shout at each
other. Sue and I sat at the bar and stayed for
hours, drinking many beers. Amid the general
merriment, in my drunken mind, it seemed perfectly
natural to give Sue a kiss, so I did. She kissed
back, and the rest of the night we smooched
periodically. When we walked home I kept my arm
around her, occasionally sliding it down to feel
her waist and ass.

Nothing happened that night, but the next day we
went to a park and sat on the grass. I put my hand
on her thigh and she covered it and rubbed. I
asked her if we were going to sleep together. She
said she didn't know, was quiet for a moment, and
then launched into a long passionate confession,
going on and on about her life and her
insecurities. I listened patiently. Ultimately,
she shook her head firmly and decided that no, we
shouldn't get together. She smiled at me, like I
was supposed to be proud of her willpower or
something. I'd pretty much anticipated this,
anyway---in my experience, women would much rather
avoid taking action than take it.

So I resigned myself that I wasn't going to sleep
with Sue. I started to think idly about how I
could at least see her naked. My voyeuristic
instincts were still strong; it would have wounded
my pride if I'd permitted her to leave at the end
of the summer with all her secrets intact. I
contemplated drilling holes in the wall and
arranging mirrors outside her windows, but these
techniques were clearly way too crude. One day I
was lying on my futon in misery listening to her
take a shower when I realized that the bathroom
door didn't go all the way to the ground. It
wasn't a normal door with hinges but a heavy
wooden sliding door, and the carpeting in the hall
was worn away so there was a gap of more than an
inch between the bottom and the floor. I slid over
and lay on my stomach on the floor, and peered
through. I could see the floor of the bathroom and
about four inches of the bottom of the tub.
Obviously I wouldn't be able to see more than her
ankles this way, but I figured that if I had a
small mirror I could angle it up. Later when I was
alone in the apartment I closed the bathroom door
from the outside, lay down in the hall and tried
it. I was delighted to find that by angling the
mirror properly I could see into the bathroom
almost up to the ceiling.

This was almost an intellectual exercise for me,
rather than a real attempt to peep. I was pleased
that I'd been able to figure out a way to see her
if I wanted to. When I was alone I practiced my
technique, finding landmarks on the bathroom walls
so I could tell where I was looking. Then one day
when my girlfriend was away, I decided to actually
go ahead and do it, more out of boredom than
anything else.

I watched Sue go into the bathroom to shower,
listened as she peed and flushed, and then heard
the tub faucet go on. I knew she would adjust the
water temperature from the faucet before routing
it through to the showerhead. I scooted over and
did a preliminary scan under the door with the
naked eye. I could see the heels of her feet at
the edge of the tub. Satisfied she was looking the
other way, I placed the mirror under the edge of
the door and found my bearings. Sue's upside-down
calves appeared in my mirror. I traveled up her
legs and gazed triumphantly upon her naked ass. I
almost laughed at how well it had worked. Her
pubic mound was visible between her thighs and I
was delighted to see a nub of genitalia protruding
from the crack. Then the showerhead turned on, and
she stepped into the tub. I quickly moved the
mirror away and stood up. When she exited the
shower I was innocently sitting in the other room.

I was proud of myself for executing the operation
so skillfully, but naturally it wasn't enough. To
a voyeur, nothing is ever enough. Even though I'd
managed to see cunt, I now wanted to see what her
bush looked like from a front, standing position.
So, the next time, I waited until she turned off
the shower, then put the mirror under and watched
her pull back the shower curtain. I saw her bush,
alright, and I also saw her lean down and peer in
my direction. She'd obviously seen the mirror. I
stood up and tiptoed away in humiliation.

I was extremely embarrassed that I'd been caught
peeping on a friend, and a would-be lover, who was
living in the same apartment as me. It was pretty
pathetic. I was sure she'd lost any respect or
affection she'd ever felt for me. But when Sue
finally came out of the bathroom, she started an
innocent conversation and didn't give any
indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

I figured that maybe she didn't mind being watched
by me and wanted me to continue it. So I kept
spying on Sue whenever the opportunity presented
itself. She must have known perfectly well when I
was looking at her, but she never showed it. I
interpreted this as consent---after all, she could
have easily just thrown a towel down and blocked
my view whenever she was in the bathroom. Mostly I
saw her either leaning over the side of the tub to
adjust the water before she showered, or stepping
out of the tub when she was done. I got some
lovely glimpses of her crotch. Unlike my
girlfriend, whose bush was curly and thick, Sue's
pubic patch looked very light and silky. She had a
tight crack but her clitoral hood appeared to puff
out of her slit at the top. I loved this, along
with her tight, smooth little butt cheeks.

But although she was clearly letting me watch, she
didn't seem to be getting any sexual enjoyment out
of exhibiting herself. I thought that maybe she
would leave the shower curtain partly open to show
me soap herself, but she always closed it. She
never played with herself or went out of her way
to show me anything; she just took a plain shower,
and neither helped me nor stopped me from peeking
at her.

When we'd talk we both just pretended that nothing
was going on. We even remained stone-faced one
time when she announced she was going to take a
shower and I blurted out "See ya!" I'm still
confused by her passivity---I can understand how a
woman could get angry by finding someone peeping
at her, and I can understand how she could get
flattered and aroused, but I can't understand
being totally indifferent. I suppose she was just
indulging me.

Before the summer ended, Sue and I did end up
having sex, sort of. In August both of the girls
had planned long, overlapping trips with their
respective families. My girlfriend was gone for a
two week period, and for thirteen days nothing
happened between Sue and I. The last night,
though, as we sat drinking margaritas and watching
TV, I just put my arm around her without even
thinking. She didn't say anything and after a
minute I cupped her breast in my hand and caressed
it. We got up and went into my bedroom. She was
very compliant. We laid down and fondled for
awhile.

Suddenly she said "Hold it" and got up and went to
the bathroom. I remember she was wearing a nice
silk sleeveless blouse and knee-length black
cotton shorts, with sandals. I heard the water
running and the toilet flushing. When she came out
her hair was brushed, and she'd washed her face
and probably other areas as well. She lay back
down, and I wasted no time getting her blouse and
bra off before she changed her mind. Her breasts
were very small, but soft and pleasant to the
touch. I noticed she had a weird tan pattern all
over her torso; she must have worn a number of
different bathing suits when she'd gone to the
shore, because different patches of her skin were
tanned to different degrees. After sucking her
nipples and running my hands over her body for a
while, I pulled her bottoms off and spread her
legs wide to look at her pussy. She gave a nervous
chuckle.

I'd never seen a cunt quite like hers before. Her
clitoral area was bulbous and protruded from her
cleft, but the rest of her pussy tapered down and
narrowed until at the very bottom, under her
vagina, the lips disappeared and there was only a
pink pinch of tissue at her perineum. The top was
the size of my big thumb, and the puffy folds were
very tight. You could almost tell she was a
virgin. I was curious to actually see her hymen
but if it was there I couldn't find it. Her anus
was hairless and had a spot of pigment surrounding
it. Her whole body was very slim, young and
fresh-looking, though the strange tan patterns
made her torso look like a dashiki.

She was willing but very passive. She didn't want
me to actually penetrate her, after all. She laid
back while I sucked her breasts, licked her inner
thighs and then went down on her. "I've always
wanted someone to do that," she whispered. Her
pussy tasted like soap. After twenty minutes,
though, she was still just lying there. She hadn't
made a sound and her cunt hadn't gotten any more
aroused or juicy. "Are you enjoying this?" I
asked. "Sure," she said. I tried to insert my
index finger into her vagina, but she said that it
hurt and told me to stop.

Finally, with typical masculine subtlety, I pushed
her head down towards my lap. She got a very
serious expression on her face and very intently
maneuvered my cock in her mouth and started
sucking. I suspected this was the first blowjob
she'd ever given. She seemed dedicated to doing a
good job and really concentrated on it. Unlike my
girlfriend, who tended to just grasp my dick and
pump her mouth up and down on it, this girl
wrapped her mouth around me deep and left it
there, giving slow soft suction. I couldn't
believe how tender, wet and hot the inside of her
mouth was; after a few minutes I could tell this
was going to be possibly the best blowjob of my
life. It's hard to explain, but between the
sensation I was getting from every inch of her
tongue and her gullet and the roof of her mouth,
and the sight of my thick rod as it disappeared
into her face---it was just freaking me out that I
was inserted inside this other human being in this
incredible way. The pitcherful of margaritas I'd
drunk contributed to this impression. It was one
of the few times in my life that I actually
starting groaning and moving around in involuntary
ecstasy.

I finally had a deep, hard, long orgasm. When she
felt the first spurt she jumped a little and
giggled through her nose, but kept on sucking
dutifully until I finally started to soften. Then
she let go of me and sat up. She had a confused
look on her face and her mouth was hanging loose a
little. She hadn't swallowed my semen. She worked
her mouth for a moment like she was going to
swallow, then reconsidered. "You can spit it out
if you want," I said. She got up and went into the
bathroom, and I looked over her shoulder as she
spit gooey come into the sink. When I went to
sleep that night I was deeply contented in the
knowledge that I'd just had a hummer I'd remember
for decades.

We fooled around the next day and again before she
moved out weeks later. She wouldn't let me
penetrate her, so we mainly had oral sex. I never
managed to give her an orgasm or even get her very
excited, but when I'd ask her if she was happy and
aroused she'd tell me she was. In hindsight, I
really wish I'd been more aggressive with her,
because I think she was more receptive than she
seemed, but I was still in the "nice guy" stage of
my development.

Summer ended and Sue moved out. Although I acted
all innocent to my long-suffering girlfriend, she
probably knew that something had happened. For a
while the girls still visited each other
occasionally, but were never really close again
after that summer. Sue and I secretly gave each
other a long hug when she finally left, and said
we'd get together sometime, but of course we never
did.

The moral of this tale, I suppose, is that getting
caught peeping on a woman does not necessarily
disqualify you as a sex partner in her eyes.
Although Sue and I became intimate with each
other, neither of us ever mentioned the mirror
under the bathroom door, not even to joke about
it. Personally, I think I would lose respect for
someone if I knew they were on their hands and
knees outside my shower trying to peep at me, but
it didn't seem to really make a difference to her.
Female psychology is a complicated thing.