Aftermath, Voyeur Tips.

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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.

Aftermath (15 June 2005)

Her hand is on her clit. My cock is deep inside her. My hands are on her hips bouncing her up and down as her hand goes round and round, round and round.
I watch her above me, and from the side in the mirror. I love mirrors. I've probably mentioned this before, but mirrors satisfy the voyeur in me even as I'm fucking, or this case, being fucked, being ridden, watching her ride me, watching her masturbate. Too fucking much.
My cell phone is ringing. Her cell phone is ringing. Spouses, work, who knows? who cares? The maid's knocking on the door, the wild woman on top of me is shouting "we're busy" as she flies up and down the length of my cock, red in the face, can't catch her breath, fingers never stopping, rubbing her clit harder and faster than I would ever dare, pinching her nipples, long dark hair falling over her face, eyes half shut, grimacing with exertion.
Wonder what the maid would say if she could see us like this, wonder if she's outside the door still, straining to hear the gasping and the moaning, imagining two people completely locked in sensory overload, in the heat of the moment, in the heat of the afternoon?

I watch her breasts from the side in the mirror, bouncing as fast as her, faster than her, as I bounce her faster, squeezing her hips, practically throwing her up and off, and then pulling her down, using her, watching her, wanting her more than I can ever have her, aching to suck her nipples again, not able to reach, barely flicking them with the tip of my tongue as they pass in front of my mouth, in front of my eyes, again and again and again, in a trance, in a daze, both of us hypnotized, hypnotic, transcending, transcendent, unable to form a coherent thought beyond ourselves and each other.
The phones stop ringing, the maid stops knocking, my seed is rising, building, tensing, deep in my balls, at the base of my cock, ready to spurt, ready to spurt, holding, holding; she leans back above me, breasts pointing toward the ceiling, back arched, furious in her rubbing, muttering my name through gritted teeth, then screaming, loud enough for all the maids to hear, as my cock twitches and spasms, shooting my soul and my seed up into her, the pleasure rolling over me in a never-ending wave.
Completely spent, she collapses on top of me, sweaty, panting, and incredibly beautiful, her brown eyes looking deep into my gray ones. I hold her there, brush the sweaty disheveled hair from her face, and kiss her with as much passion as I have ever kissed. "It'll be OK" I say.
"I know" she answers, snuggling even closer. "We'll always be OK. Happy birthday."

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