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Posts Tagged ‘voyeur’

It’s taken a year but I finally have a guest post from Stranded! The first, but hopefully not the last. I asked for his thoughts on voyeurism…


Dateline 1979, August…well, August-ish…Calgary, Alberta, Canada

The sun was going down relatively early, which puts the time in late August…Calgary may have more sunny days than any other major Canadian city, but the hours of sunlight dwindle quickly with Rocky Mountains blocking it out.

Our bikes were strewn behind the local Gulf Petro Station on the southeast corner of Fairmont and Southland Drives in the Willow Park section of Southeast Calgary. About ten of us stood huddled, scanning the pages in our hidden lair as though we were hungry dogs that had just been tossed a veggie burger…it looked like meat, but we were not quite sure yet.

One of the boys had found a “nudie magazine”. Playboy, in fact, from April of 1979 that he had stolen from under his brother’s bed and brought for us all to see.

We were not supposed to see that.

We really should look away.

…but we just could not.

That was just before my ninth birthday and, already, voyeurism had me in its clutches. I just had no idea how much of a grasp the concept had on me.

“Quite so. He sees, but he does not observe.” – Sherlock Holmes (played by Michael Caine in Without a Clue)

We all rubber neck at car accidents, natural disasters and Toronto Maple Leaf hockey games…why would seeing the taboo acts of a sensual nature be any different? We all like to watch. We all like a show. The multi-billion dollar porn industry is banking on each of us having a voyeuristic streak to one degree or another.

Let us skip ahead to Mississauga, Ontario, Canada in February of 1991. My friend, Richard, decides he is going to introduce me to something risqué. We drove east along Derry Road to the Northeast Mississauga where Lester B. Pearson International Airport resides, and headed north on Torbram Road. There was housed the Million Dollar Saloon…a strip club, for lack of a better term. That evening, a young woman (older than me) name Teagan danced for me at Richard’s expense…as she danced shockingly close with her look, but do not touch private lap dance.

For the record, the club is still there and has become quite notorious as part of Mississauga’s “trinity clubs” for having a reputation of bawdy houses more than strip joints. The shock of seeing a naked woman, that was one thing…I had obviously seen that before…but the fact she was dancing, trying to get a rise out of me specifically and I did not even have to buy her a drink while I just sat back and watched. I recall very little of the stage show, however…

Looking but not touching…seeing the taboo things that should not be seen…it was exciting. It was exhilarating. It showed a side of myself that I did not understand. Like porn, the entire business of stripping is based upon voyeurism…all these clubs where we go and watch the fantasy of what could be.

Another skip ahead…early 2013…along Lake Shore Blvd. in Southwest Toronto. We park the car and find the glass doors of the club, which open upon steps descending beneath the street level and into the club where dance music booms. Being our first time, the reception desk clerk asked us, “You are aware this is a swingers club, right? I know it sounds silly but I have to ask.” A tour, a few drinks, and a few dances later, the back play area opens up and assaults our senses with the dreams of voyeurs everywhere. To see the actual sex act, not depicted on pages nor fantasized about on a strip club stage…but watching one man we had met at the bar kneeling before his date while she screamed at his tongue work. Watching another couple as she crouched and lowered herself onto his erection for all in attendance to watch.

This place is where exhibitionists come to entertain voyeurs. A meeting of those wanting to watch with those wanting to be watched.

What a glorious concept.

It was the first time I discovered that being watched, for me, is even more fun than watching…at least on this level. Being I write erotica, in one sense, I was already well aware of this, but this place took it to an entirely new level.

I digress, however, as exhibitionism is a discussion for another time.

Voyeurism, however…the thrill of watching others play…others join in…even watching my own lover as she accepted another man’s erection into her mouth…it took 42 years to find the level of voyeurism I wanted. I still want more.

Watching sex is easy…it sells everything, so extremely easy to find. Pushing the envelope to find that level one is most comfortable with, however…that is the adventure.

Blog: http://strandedintoronto.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/stranded_in_to

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You finish filing your last report and you are ready to head home. As you reach for the office door, the lights go out. What happens next?


Damn, the power went out again! Didn’t I tell Clara to make sure she paid the bill on time this month? I was thinking it might be time to let her go and find someone who can actually follow direction to do the job. Every month it was something. Forgot to pay the hydro bill. Put the wrong detergent in the dishwasher. Didn’t get the Murdock file out on time. She was pretty incompetent at times, why was she even still here? I was going to have to have a talk with her, bring HR in on it, and give her a formal written warning. It was long overdue.

I would deal with that on Monday, right then I needed to make sure everyone was gone and lock up. Most of the employees left early, Friday of a long weekend and all, but I still had to be sure. Since I wouldn’t be able to set the security system or check the scanner to see if anyone else was still there, I would have to go check the place myself. The wife was going to be pissed if I was late again. It was becoming a regular habit and she was getting suspicious. I needed to make this quick and get the hell home. Another night of her silent treatment wasn’t nearly as nice as one might think. It came with accusing looks, a scowl, and banging of things on the counter, the floor, even slamming doors. Her words may be silent but nothing else she did was.

So off I went to start at the far end of the building. That way I could work my way back to the front, be efficient about it. The back entrance was secure and the first two rows of offices were empty. I was about to start on the next row when I heard a noise in one of the boardrooms. There weren’t any meetings scheduled, who could it be at this hour?Viewty

The door was slightly ajar and I could make out Clara’s frilly sun dress. That was another thing I needed to talk to her about, inappropriate office attire. We were a professional office and all employees should dress as such. Enough with the frilly sun dresses and skimpy outfits. They were distracting.

My hand was on the door, about to push it open when I heard a mans voice inside. It was Andrew, one of the sales managers. He must have had her working on a special project.

There was some shuffling and I saw Clara kneel in front of Andrew. He was sitting in one of the brown leather club chairs at the side of the room. My position at the door gave me a clear view of the two of them.

“Now, let me see those perky tits of yours, babydoll.” Andrew opened Clara’s dress and pinched her nipples.

“Ohh,” and a giggle.

“Do you think this is funny?”

“No, Daddy. It’s just, well, I kinda liked it and it surprised me is all. I am sorry for giggling. How can I make it up to you Daddy? I’ll do anything.”

“Yes you will babydoll.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Babydoll? Daddy? What was this Daddy business? Andrew wasn’t her father, and he certainly wouldn’t be touching her that way if he was. They must be into some kind of kinky role playing thing, like on those old porno movies I had stashed away in the garage.

“Be a good girl babydoll and make me a happy Daddy,” and with those words Andrew pulled his dick out and Clara took it in her mouth. Her pouty little mouth, with its full lips and shiny pink gloss. Yes, I had noticed them before too. Another distraction. As her head bobbed back and forth, a slick wetness was left on Andrews dick. She would take him in all the way, her lips kissing the base and her tongue barely caressing his ballsack. Then she would pull back, slowly, dragging her tongue along the base, until only the very tip was at her lips. Clara looked up at him, her eyes searching for a sign he was enjoying it, while continuing to suck and bob.

Fuck, I was getting hard watching her. She could call me Daddy if she was going to suck my dick like that. Hell, she could call me whatever she wanted. Last time the wife sucked my dick was before the boys were born and they were graduating university next month. We barely had a sex life at all these days.

Andrew was getting into it now, thrusting his hips, making sure his dick went all the way in. His hands held her steady, pulling her toward him as he shoved it in again. Then he picked up his rhythm, full on fucking her face. I heard her gagging, there were tears welling in her eyes. He kept going, not letting up, and I could tell he was about to blow his load. Another thrust, a grunt, and he was exploding into her mouth. She couldn’t take it all and I could see it seeping out, dripping down her chin. It was like watching a real life porn flick.

Oh, to be him right then, blowing a big load of hot salty cum into that beautiful pouty mouth. Rubbing my own cock, feeling it strain against its confines, I could feel the pre-cum oozing, making a wet spot on my pants. I needed to get out of there before I blew myself. They could lock the place up when they left, since they obviously thought they were the only ones still there anyway. I quickly made my way back to the front and out of the office.

As I headed home all I could think about was Clara’s mouth and how it would feel wrapped around me. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled my zipper down and came all over the floor of the car. Wet pants and a messy car, how the hell would I explain that to the wife?


This weeks challenge from Rebel was to write a story about what happened next, after the lights went out. Apparently one challenge wasn’t enough, I also decided to write from a mans perspective. I’d love to know what you think of this guy.
Click the link below to see what others did after the lights went out.

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This story has also been submitted to The Fellatio Project on Stranded In Toronto.

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