A Voyeur in the Country
She was all I could think about as I climbed the stairs to my room. Beautiful, charming, and completely intoxicating. I couldn’t remember the last time I had met a woman remotely like her. Her husband was a nice guy too. Damn, he really won the lottery with that one. What a lucky son of a bitch.
It had been a busy and stressful week of meetings in London. With the looming prospect of another such week one of my local colleagues suggested that I get out of the city for the weekend. Find a nice Bed and Breakfast in the Cotswolds…relax, unwind, catch my breath before we hit it hard again next week.
After a little research I found a place that would fit the bill nicely and gave the innkeeper a call. “I’m sorry” she started “but we are all out of our standard single rooms. The only room I have left is one of our deluxe luxury rooms. Since it is just you, well, you may feel it is a little more than you need.” She explained the room and then the price. It was a little much, but fuck it, I decided to splurge and booked the room. After all, it was just for one night.
If I was going to be heading to the English countryside I was going to be doing it in style. With another declaration of fuck it, life should be enjoyed, I found a company that would rent me a drop top E-Type Jaguar for the weekend. I was like a giddy child when I picked it up on Saturday morning…it was gorgeous in british racing green with tan interior.
Finally out of the city I was able to open the Jag up on the roads it was built for. I spent the day touring quaint villages and backroads, walking in fields, along streams, and over rolling hills. In the early evening I pulled into the B&B. The innkeeper recognized me as “that yank all alone in the fancy room” and proceeded to give me a tour of the common areas before taking me to my room. She highlighted the library, where sherry would be served in the evening. It was a lovely room, with worn leather cigar chairs and a matching sofa, fireplace along the wall.
As we headed up the stairs I caught a glimpse of another guest – a woman in her mid to late 20s with light olive skin, long flowing hair, and a curvaceous figure. I only spotted her for a second, but my interest was piqued. The glimpse lasted long enough for our eyes to briefly meet, to see a man take hold of her hand, give her a kiss on the cheek and then whisk her off.
When we arrived at my room I found it to exceed what I was expecting. It featured a king size, four poster bed, large walk-in shower with a jetted soaking tub, and, it’s best feature – a pair of french doors onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard. The property was arrange as a U with a central courtyard featuring signature Cotswold gardens and a fountain. My room was in one wing of the U, with the balcony facing a matching balcony across the courtyard on the other wing of the U. Just as the innkeeper was needlessly over explaining the operation of the phone system I spotted something in the room across from my balcony. A quick glimpse of a couple. What? Was that the stunning beauty I had just seen downstairs? I regained my senses as I could tell the innkeeper was getting a little annoyed with my distractions.
It had been a long day and woman across the way or not, it was time to head for dinner. Trying my best to fit into the English countryside I walked down to the local pub and ordered a shepherd’s pie and a pint of dark ale. While at dinner I found myself daydreaming about the woman I had seen for just a moment and then perhaps again across the courtyard. Satisfied with my meal I headed back to the B&B.
I decided to take the innkeeper’s advice and socialize in the library. As part of my splurge weekend I had acquired a bottle of Macallen 18. Sherry is fine, but with that in my room, Sherry would not do. I grabbed the bottle and returned to the library, positioning myself in a cigar chair near the fire, scotch and book in hand. It was quiet in the library and I was alone for some time. Finally, I heard a couple of voices coming around the corner, and looked up to see her – the woman from earlier – hand in hand with her husband, giggling like a schoolgirl.
The couple plopped themselves down on the sofa. We quickly made our introductions – the standard B&B stuff – name, where you are from, how long are you staying, have you ever been here before, etc. The husband got up and began moving towards the Sherry table. “I’ve got a fantastic single malt right here if you’d prefer that”, I interrupted, showing him the bottle.
“That’s quite an offer.” he said.
“Not at all” I replied, glass already in hand. “And may I pour one for your lovely wife as well”. Again, glass already in hand.
“I suppose if you insist…” he said with a smile, happily taking the two glasses and thanking me.
We all loosened up a bit as the whiskey worked its magic. Conversation flowed freely…we talked about travel, places we’d been and wanted to go. About food and cooking, music and movies. Even politics…always a fun topic with foreigners, as it usually results in a game one-up-manship, trying to prove that your own government is more ridiculously stupid than the others.
A refill, or perhaps two…or more, of the scotch certainly helped along the friendly atmosphere. As the night wore on I found myself magnetically drawn to her. There was something almost exotic about her. She didn’t appear typically English in either her appearance or her forward and open attitude, although she was in fact a native. Our eyes would meet and linger for just a beat longer than they should. I did my best to keep eye contact, fighting the urge to stare at the plunging neckline of her purple dress. She became more relaxed, throwing her legs over her husband’s lap and leaning back into the side of the sofa. His hand found her knee and her lovingly but innocently stroked it. She kicked off her heels and rubbed her feet against each other. She snuck a smile and wink in my direction. Damn she was charming.
With the Macallen nearing the bottom of the bottle and the fire dying down we decided it was time to turn in for the night. We did our best to straighten ourselves out and say goodnight. After I shook his hand she surprised me by leaning in for a hug. Her scent was just as enticing as the rest of her, and again, things seemed to linger for just a beat too long, the hug just a touch too tight, her breasts pressed into my chest just a little too firmly. Not that I minded at all…in fact I could feel my cock swell right there. Finally she gave me a quick peck on the cheek as they retreated down the hall.
So there I was, drunkenly stumbling my way up the stairs to my room, her smell lingering on me. When I reached my room I decided some fresh air was in order. Without even turning on a light I walked over to the french doors doors and stepped out onto the balcony. With no moon in sight It was almost completely black outside, save for a couple of dim landscaping lights in the garden and billions of stars above. A light flickered on in the room across the courtyard. It wasn’t in the part of the room facing the balcony, but was behind and to the side – perhaps a hall light.
Suddenly I remembered that I had seen somebody in this room before. Could it be my friends from downstairs? My heart nearly stopped when I saw her saunter in, hips swaying, tossing her heels in the corner. Her husband immediately disappeared into the bathroom as she approached the french doors. I stood transfixed by her beauty as she approached the french doors. To my severe disappointment she immediately moved to the drapes and pulled them closed. At the last moment she stopped – she had spotted me out of the balcony. She began staring at me, then reached out and swung the doors open. The drapes were now pulled closed over the open doors – save for the final 12 or so inches in the center. I could see part of her in the opening, and a faint silhouette through the drapes.
Giving me one last long look, she turned around, body centered in the opening, and began to slowly unzip her dress. She paused just as it passed the band of her white bra, then continued down her back. I could hear my own heart pounding as she twisted her body and the dress dropped to the floor. As the dress fell it revealed her curvaceous hips and round ass, perfectly framed by a white lace thong. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at me. We made eye contact and held it. Her flirtatious smile was gone, replaced by an intense gaze. Seeing her, watching her, I could feel my cock rise. I moved a hand to the front of my pants to give it a squeeze and perhaps a light stroke. Her eyes followed my hand.
At that moment I faintly heard the bathroom door open. The light in her room went off, but was replaced with the very faint glow of the light left on in the open bathroom. Her body became more difficult to see and the silhouette grew dimmer. She didn’t flinch – her eyes transfixed on my hand, which was emboldened by her stare to squeeze and stroke more intently.
There was now another figure in the silhouette – her husband emerging from the bathroom, obviously naked and sporting a stiff erection. I watched the shadow of his dick bob and sway as he approached her. When he got close she turned to the side and immediately dropped to her knees. His cock was now visible in the gap between the drapes. I became nervous that he may see me, and took a step back to hide further in the shadows. His arm reached out to close the last gap in the drapes, but she quickly grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to the back of her head. His cock approached her lips and it stayed there – just in front – for what seemed like minutes but was only a second or two.
My thigh was now wet with precum as I continued to stroke through my pants. The wind picked up and the drapes fluttered around, creating a dynamic scene – sometimes more visibility, sometimes none. I had to focus to see them. At this point she parted her lips and took the tip of his thick dick into her mouth, a faint moan escaped his throat. Slowly she began to work more of it into her mouth. This became too much for me and I had to free my cock from my pants. I was stroking freely on the balcony now, keeping rhythm with her movements, imagining it was I who was receiving the ultimate pleasure from her full lips. With one hand she grabbed the base of his cock and began moving deeper and faster with her mouth. She used his other hand on his thigh to brace herself. My own strokes kept pace.
With one hand on the back of her head the other reached down to her large breast, releasing it from her bra. It was bigger and fuller than I realized. There was just enough light to make out her large dark nipples. He began caressing her nipples, gently at first, then firmer. God I wanted to be touching her like that.
Soon his hand left her breasts, he now had both on her head. I was startled when he seemed to go from gently stroking her hair to holding her head firm…his hips thrusting. The power dynamic had changed. Fucking her mouth rather than being sucked. I could hear the sound of his wet dick moving in and out of her mouth, her gasps, his moans. Despite his forcefulness I didn’t see any indication that she was displeased. Her body language and sounds indicated she liked it this way, that she wanted to be face fucked…and that she wanted me to see her.
My heart continued to race and my breathing was short and irregular. I had to work to stifle my moans as I stood in the shadows of my balcony furiously stroking my cock….still picking up the scent of her from the little kiss she had planted on my cheek. Suddenly he let out a loud grunt…I could tell he came forcefully. He withdrew from her mouth, cum spurting all over her lips as she swallowed. My own orgasm erupted as I watched her use her fingers to clean the cum from her face, then use her mouth to clean her fingers. I tried my best to suppress my noises as my cum shot into the air.
My next memory is of waking up, spread across the four poster bed, not even under the sheets. I had know idea how I got there but when I saw the mostly empty bottle of scotch I had a pretty good idea. I began to flashback to an amazingly vivid dream of the couple I met in the library…it was a little too vivid. I noticed my open balcony, and looking across I saw her sitting out there in a bathrobe reading the paper. Her husband called out that they should be getting downstairs for breakfast. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream after all? All I knew was that, despite the headache, I couldn’t wait to get down downstairs.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bamiau/a_voyeur_in_the_country_mfm_voyeurism