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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.

Extra Credit (17 September 2005)

Bouncy, perky, contagious smile. Nobody's idea of a beauty queen, but incredibly vibrant. I just couldn't look at her without picturing her impaled on my cock. Made it kind of hard to concentrate during the lectures. Made it kind of hard not to fuck up my projects and ask for help.
I don't know if she could tell the stupid thing was an act or not, but she always seemed happy to see me. It wasn't just me of course. She reveled in attention, seemed amazed by the effect she had on men, amazed and wanting more. And more was what I wanted to give.
Standing in her office, drawing circles, rectangles and arrows on the whiteboard, trying to get me to understand my project (or at least that was the official excuse) we felt like a team. I stood as close as I could, willing her to accidentally touch me. Sometimes she did, and the damn thing was I couldn't tell if it was really accidental or not.
Until the day she turned and her breast brushed my arm. Whether that was an accident of not doesn't really matter. What mattered was the contact. I know it mattered to me because I was suddenly much harder. I know it mattered to her because she froze in mid-turn. She could have kept going, ignored the contact completely, smiled to herself and kept going, but she stopped, and then, incredibly, she turned back again, and as I hadn't moved my arm, her breast brushed it again.

I looked down at her, expecting her to look up adoringly at me with lust in her eyes and love in her heart. But she wasn't. She was looking at her breast, where the nipple touched my arm through her blouse and her bra. Then she twisted at the waist, shifting her gaze to the other nipple as it grazed my arm, and then back, and again, a studied experiment in the interaction between breast and arm.
It was difficult to decide what to do next. She was sending shivers straight up my arm, into my brain, and back to my rapidly hardening cock. I didn't want it to end, didn't want to interrupt her, but at the same time I needed to take it further. I raised my hand to the level of her breast, palm out, so that as she turned both nipples made contact, the left nipple with my right arm and the right nipple with my left hand, indicating my knowledge and interest but leaving the decision to continue up to her.
She continued, still not looking up at me, but her breathing grew fast and shallow and her face started turning red and her hands strayed to her pants, unfastening the button, lowering the zipper, stealing inside, fingering herself.
I watched the slow deliberate swaying of her breasts against my palms, the tension and realization of her stomach muscles as she twisted, the rapid twitching of her wrist at the top of her unbuttoned pants as she fingered herself, the opening and closing of her lips in a silent parody of ecstatic speech and the rising flush of red in her cheeks as her pleasure mounted and the orgasm hit her and hit her hard and her legs buckled and she went down for the count, sliding down my body on to her knees, clutching my legs, her face pressed into my jeans, panting heavily, my cock straining out against the denim and her cheek.
After a minute's rest she stirred. I don't know if she was fully cognizant of her surroundings, but was staring at the bulge in my pants with the same rapt fascination with which she had surveyed the brushing of my arm against her nipples, and with the same deliberative, experimental air she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped my jeans, freeing my cock, staring at it, taking it into her hand and examining every pulsing inch, before she finally, finally, finally, engulfed it with her mouth, licking, sliding, faster and harder, putting every ounce of her soul into making me come and I did. I came. I came spurting and bucking and howling and hard into her mouth and out of her mouth, my head jerking around on my neck like a demented jack in the box.
When I finally calmed down, as the haze and green spots began to clear from my eyes and my heart rate slowed to something approximating normal I looked down at her, looking up, for the first time, adoringly, with lust in her eyes and love in her heart.

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