The Wrong Room

5 min read

photo: MetArt

A Voyeur’s Story

I am a frequent flyer, a road warrior — whatever the name is for we business travelers who spend more time in airport lounges than in our own beds. I see more hotel rooms in a year than most see in a lifetime.

A few years back I was in Charlotte.

It was a five star hotel, but not for what you might think.

In August in the South, thunderstorms tend to delay flights and this August night was no different. The flight from Cincinnati that was due in at 6pm was late, so I finally got to the hotel at 10pm. The desk clerk was courteous and efficient and quickly checked me in. He mentioned an earlier power failure that had caused some panic, but the storm had passed, the power was restored and hotel operations were returned to normal. It became more apparent when I opened the door to my room and stepped into a sauna.

The heat wasn’t my only surprise. I flipped on the lights and noticed a valise and travel bag on the bed. There was someone else in the room! I put my bags down and checked my room number. The key worked and I was in the room number on the key envelope, but what I hadn’t noticed until now was the sound of the shower.

I realized only when the noise stopped. I should have left, should have gone to the desk; but instead I opened the closet door, grabbed my bag and hid. The closet had louvers so I could view the room. It was then that a woman stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and her hair up in another. There was a louver slat blocking the view of her face, but even with the bulky towel and judging her legs from mid-thigh down, she appeared to be in great shape.

I am aroused by voyeurism, it has always been my thing. Upskirts, downblouses and wardrobe malfunctions tend to be my internet searches of choice, and now here I was and it was happening for real.

It’s probably what urged me to hide.

She walked towards the dresser and opened the top drawer, pulled out a nightie and laid it on the bed. It was white silk and looked to be about mid-thigh in length. She stood over it for a moment as if contemplating whether to wear it or another, then I realized she was debating whether to wear it at all given the heat in the room. She opted for the latter, brushed the nightie aside and lay down on the bed. I caught a quick glimpse to the top of her thigh and I saw enough to know that she was completely natural, albeit neatly trimmed.

My arousal was complete. The anticipation of seeing more and the realization of what I just saw was more than enough.

I stood in the closet peering through the slats at this wonderful creature who had just laid down. I was completely aroused while also completely panicked. How could I possibly explain this? How could I sneak out without being noticed?

Panic was replaced by being mesmerized…

She pulled down the covers and let the towel fall to the floor. She tossed the night shirt on top of her travel bag and lay face down on the bed as it was too hot to pull the covers over. I was looking at a perfect ass. Perfectly round, perfectly white; the way virgin skin is protected from the sun by a precise sized bikini bottom.

This was not an ass that wore a thong suit, but a bikini bottom the perfect size to cover the fullness of her behind. The kind that while sitting on the beach may allow a glimpse of butt to escape, and if it weren’t for the lovely crevice that lay between her cheeks, you might swear she was wearing a white bottom.

I was afraid the lights would go out and my delightful vision would be plunged into darkness and I would be relegated to formulating my escape. She surprised me again. The light stayed on and I watched as her right hand slid under her torso and down between her legs. A friend once told me that her favorite way to masturbate was to lie on her stomach and allow the weight of her body to pleasure her clit, and sure enough my sweet vision began to grind her hips lightly back and forth on her hand. I listened hard, wanting to hear her breath quicken and perhaps a moan escape, but she was very quiet.

I could not see her face. She lay face down on the pillow so I could not enjoy her mask of pleasure. Occasionally she would raise her hips to where I could see her fingers rubbing herself. I was in heaven, but resisted the urge to join her by pleasuring myself as she did. I wanted to wait, for perhaps she would need more than her fingers could provide and I could deepen the pleasure she was feeling.

Or, I could scare her to death. Yes, better to remain a silent observer to her lustful play.

She played for just a few minutes, but it seemed like an hour. She was enjoying herself as her left hand clutched the pillow in rhythm to her right hand. Once again she raised her hips, and in addition to seeing her fingers and a glimpse of her pussy, this time they both glistened with her building excitement.

I fought the desire to hold my cock, and I quietly pulled down my zipper to let it out.

Through all this I had yet to see her face. She had reddish blonde hair cut just above shoulder length. She had square shoulders, with a small mole just to the left of the small of her back. The tan lines that highlighted her perfect bottom were but faint string lines across her back.

It was then I initially heard her, as a high pitched gasp of pleasure came forth. She smothered her moan with the pillow, but she was really getting into it. I had no idea if she was close to climax or not and I simultaneously wished she was and she wasn’t.

Maybe if she came, she would roll over so I could see her face and have a full view of her front. If she wasn’t ready, I wanted so badly to hear more of her moans.

Her fingers quickened. She raised her hips off the bed, coming to her knees. She plunged two fingers inside, then pulled them out, rubbed her clit and plunged them in again. I sensed she was getting close, as was I, although I had yet to even touch myself.

Then she slowed. She wanted to prolong the bliss. Her hand merely cupped the whole of her vagina and she rolled onto her back. Her head rested on the pillow and her eyes were closed. Her right hand covered her pussy, almost imperceptibly rubbing left to right. Her left hand wiped the sweat from her brow caused by the heat of the room and her frenzy of activity. Maybe she did cum?

I finally saw her face. Oval shaped, dark eyebrows and a small mouth. Perfectly straight white teeth visible while she caught her breath through a slightly open mouth. Her breasts were smallish, and like her ass, perfectly round and perfectly white having never seen a ray of sun. Nipples so lightly pink it was hard to tell where areola began and flesh ended. She appeared to be thirtyish, but never having been a good judge of age, she could have been anywhere between twenty-five and fifty-five.

My own breathing had hastened while watching her, but now also returned to normal. Her hand moved from between her legs, across her stomach, and lightly brushed each nipple. They responded to her touch and rose slightly. She teased herself with each hand, appearing to dangle over each nipple with her fingers ever so lightly brushing them. It seemed almost tantric. Her head rolled from side to side and she seemed to be building her pleasure again.

As she caressed herself, her legs opened and closed in unison with the rocking of her head. I could now see the whole of her pussy, still glistening slightly, hidden by a neatly trimmed bush. She spread her legs wide while her head swayed faster. Her fingers still tantalizing her nipples. High pitched oohs began coming from her lips. Her hips raised up and her legs opened wider. The swaying of her head turned into thrashing. I knew she was getting close. She raised herself higher, and the sounds turned into those of pending orgasm, coming faster and shorter.

I was in a trance watching.

Both hands reached between her legs, two fingers from her left hand entered her as far as they could reach and began plunging in and out, as her right moved her wetness to her clit and massaged as fast as she could. She then spasmed as waves of orgasm engulfed her.

“Yes!” she said aloud, almost screamed it as she rolled to her side fetally and shuddered for several seconds.

She came, and I had to.

What to do and how to do it?

Pleasure was replaced by panic.

She appeared to be sleeping, even though I knew it was simply post climax rest. I guess I could wait to see if she would fall asleep. I guess I could reveal myself and go to jail for peeping. What to do?

She raised her head, opened her eyes which were the prettiest green I’ve ever seen, and then she said, “You can come out now. I hope you enjoyed watching me as much as I enjoyed letting you watch.”

Leave a Reply