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voyeur Tips

Welcome to our "smut" library. Here you will find various information articles and exciting stories dedicated to voyeurism. We welcome erotic fiction from our visitors. Notice that we add points to authors for every story we publish.

Sleeping Beatific (13 November 2010)

He halted, momentarily, as the dry leaves in the driveway crunched underneath his step. Damn! So close now, too close to blow it and his heart pounded so hard he was sure she would hear or worse yet, her boyfriend. He hoped he was a heavy sleeper. He knew she was, she had told as much. And much, much more besides.... Indeed, her willingness to open herself up so innocently to him, across cyberspace, had made this moment possible, planted the seed, and had led him here.

Ahh the front door, wide open........ how did that email last week go? "Yeah" she had confessed without guile, and in total naivety "I'm pretty hopeless with security, always forget to close the front door at night.."

He sniffed at the tendrils of sandalwood, gently perfuming the air, while delicately opening the fly wire door. Dark, he was grateful for the dim golden glow that spilled out from the open double glass art deco doors (the lounge room he surmised) and he paused to contemplate his next move. The door on his left, the bedroom he assumed, from the muffled noises of sleeping soul. His excitement was palpable; his racing pulse and the sudden tautness in his groin reminded him of his high expectations for this evening. He knew what he wanted but had no idea how this would play out.

Steeling his nerve, he crept quietly to the bedroom as his eyes adjusted to the dim, dim light. One body in the bed, snoring. It had to be the boyfriend. He knew from her photo profile she was tinier than the elongated shape beneath the covers.

He turned to face the lounge room doors and stole quietly in. And there she was.."I always fall asleep on the lounge room floor" she had written and she had not lied!

The lamp in the corner cast a beguiling, gentle light across her sleeping form. She lay on her back on a lambskin rug, pillows and opulent large cushions surrounding her. Her arms thrown back over her head, almost begging to be bound together, long golden brown hair spread beneath her.

Perfect! He watched her for seemed like an eternity, just breathing her in with his eyes. Her face was relaxed in repose, her long eyelashes fanned out, the light emphasizing her high cheek bones and that mouth, God, how in that moment he wanted to kiss her hard. Her long slender neck above fragile shoulders, the line of her collar bones, now there was something he had never noticed before in her photos, the one freckle at the center of the base of her throat.

He knelt to get closer. In doing so he inadvertently knocked her computer, resting on the coffee table, out of its hibernation and he turned to look at the screen. He smiled in surprise...so the last thing she was looking at before slumber was him, a montage of every photo he had ever sent her, bare chested, cock in hand.....and what was this, she had been writing too!





"Your cock is my God.

On my knees before you, supplicant, I worship.

"Bless me, for I have sinned"

"Then suck this"

Holy Communion, my eyes open, I quiver exultant

my lips parted "O" I take you in.

Sacrament.

My God, flesh

Velvet against my lips. your Godhead

My serpent tongue flickers

"Suck harder"

Your cock is my God, ....."

He stifled the involuntary groan as the object of her literary homage throbbed in pleasure; even in sleep her words whisper seduction.

Mmmm maybe, if she awakes, she'll think she is dreaming.....

Her simple cotton dress, white with tiny pink flowers stretched tight across her chest and he watched the rise and fall of her sleeping breath, her long nipples, soft, pliant yet visible beneath its sheer, summer weight fabric. He wanted to rip that dress apart right then and there but no, no

His eyes ran to her pretty tiny feet, toenails painted in hot pink, her arches high, unmarred by callous or bunion, still lightly golden from last years summer, broad across the ball. "Aussie feet!" he smiled. "Half a life time without shoes", slender ankles, a dancers well defined calves bare, her dress halted at the knees, he could not resist. He began to reach forward, wishing to reach out, wanting to delicately begin to lift the fabric of her dress, slowly, ever so slowly, up over her thighs.

An audible moan escaped her lips, as she turned slightly, lifting her knees and allowing her dress, to fall away as if, in her sleep she had perceived his inner most thoughts, to reveal those velvet thighs, a burnished gold in the lamp light and he stole this Goddess given opportunity to assist with the momentum, pushing the falling fabric deftly, delicately, imperceptibly up over her thighs, her hips, to drop it delicately just above her waist.

He pulled back then to survey once more this gently lit languid fleshscape, the interplay of light and shadow, accentuating every crest and valley, the peaks of the ridge created by her ribcage, falling away to the rolling undulating plains of her breathtaking belly. The prominent hips, rising just enough to create a curve so delicate, so perfect it cried for his tongue, a gateway to the darker delta, a small forest almost hiding that valley, deep moist mysterious and lush.

Every muscle twitched in the incredible tension, how often he had played out his moment in the last few days, multitude of routes to a thousand conclusions, he fought every carnal and primal urge to pounce, to ravage, nothing had prepared him for the reality of this image of his wet dreams, made flesh, those glorious photos, manifest.

A tiny whimper from her, audible, just above the sound of his own surging blood, pounding heart, like she felt him rape her over and over with his mind.

He locked his eyes on to her face, gentle in repose and slowly brought his head down to her belly stopping just a hairs breath from the contact of skin on skin. He had always been a rational man, a skeptic, but in this moment he became a believer, her aura danced electric across his cheek.

He breathed her in, the last vestiges of her chosen scent blending so beautifully with her very own as he navigated her through aroma, on his journey to her soft downy hinterland between her thighs, where her scent, her truest essence of her became so sharp, so tantalizingly pungent, the rush and surge of his own blood dictated he could hold back no longer.

He stood and unzipped his jeans, his eyes never leaving the vision of her, vulnerable, beneath him, and even the familiar, the solid grip of his own hand, a new fission. With stealth, he crept round closer to her face now inclined to the side relaxed in doleful slumber and knelt down before her, bringing his throbbing cock, as close as he dare to her beautiful face. His deepest desire was to grab her hair, to force those sleeping lips to take his godflesh whole. However, on the velvet tip of his erection he felt the rhythm of her sleeping breath, her expiration dancing a slow gentle tune, so delicate, so exquisite, and in a move more daring than he could not quite believe, with the tiny drip of precum, he honeyed her lips, anointing her, communion offered by her god.

The roar within he could control no longer, and as every muscle contracted and quivered, through his own beating hand, his own calloused grip, he felt the surge, his balls tightened, and he came, majestic; long ropey globules of come rained down, a divine blessing upon the gorgeous valley of her naked belly.

As the headiness of his coming, slowly dissipated, his senses once again attuned to the danger he was in, quickened by the sounds of muffed moans from the bedroom. He stole one finally glimpse of his sleeping beauty, how the excesses of his desire for her now sparkled in the golden glow of the lamp, a sacred, beatific vision emblazoned upon his memory, and stole away as deftly as he had entered.

The crunch of his footfall upon the dry leaves in the driveway stirred her and she smiled, radiant, beatific, slowly running her hands through his glory on her belly, bringing her now creamy, viscous fingertips to her lips, drawing in her fingers deep into her throat with love, with reverence. Exultant, in religious ecstasy, she tasted her God, her Holy Communion, and her Sacrament.

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