Deliberate Display - five erotic voyeur and exhibitionist stories

DELIBERATE DISPLAY

A collection of five erotic stories

Edited by Gwennan Thomas

Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2013

ISBN 9781909520691

These stories also appear in Watching Me, Watching You

Copyright © Xcite Books Ltd 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

Deliberate Display
by Abigail Thornton

I noticed them immediately as they made such an odd couple – at six foot, Ruth towered over her husband and there was something thrillingly Amazonian about her wide shoulders and gym-toned muscles. I couldn’t help but imagine Ruth dominating the bedroom; holding her husband down while she …

Those unbidden thoughts proved to be close to the truth; there were numerous complaints and, as the holiday rep, it was my duty to deal with them. Most of the routine complaints I dealt with day to day in my work related to levels of noise but these were very specific: allegations of “improper business” being conducted in one of the rooms. I had been pleasantly surprised by the details of what had been observed, but not at all by the perpetrators – the newlyweds, Ruth and Callum.

They’d been painfully demanding since they’d arrived and I’d upgraded them to one of the posh suites at the top of the hotel, both to shut them up and keep them out of the way. But they were still overlooked by hundreds of other rooms from the neighbouring hotels. And, this being Benidorm, most of those rooms were full as people grasped one last lingering taste of summer. The season was drawing to a close and I was feeling jaded; run down by the demands of the 18-30 crowd looking for a bit of sun, sea, sand and sex. As a way of getting away from it all, and my relationship break-up in particular, it had been a wonderful experience, but I was more than ready to get back to my friends and family. However, by giving in to Ruth’s initial demands, I’d set myself-up for a stream of calls, and, since I wanted an easy final week, I’d been inclined to say yes to her every request, rather than enforce company policy.

The complaints had gathered in the form of phone messages and bits of paper tacked to my desk. I don’t care, I thought to myself. Let them have their fun, they’re newlyweds – what do you expect? But then I’d been shown the photos, taken as “evidence” by the husband of a couple staying directly opposite the room in question. I dutifully copied them on to my laptop, then gasped at both the clarity and the content as I clicked on the thumbnails.

There were nearly 200 in total – enthusiastic “proof” of the whole sex session. Something struck me as odd about the lovemaking in the pictures: not only were the curtains open and the lights on, the couple were positioned awkwardly across the bed, facing the window. It seemed unnatural – not that I’m an expert. Were they doing it in purpose? Did they want to be seen, to be watched? Was Ruth’s final spunky smile directed at her own reflection in the window … or at the audience beyond? Had it been a deliberate display? Intrigued, that was what I set out to investigate as I caught the lift.

‘There have been, er, complaints …’ It was difficult to have a polite conversation with a man who had an erection moving under his towel. It was bobbing, throbbing – not that I was looking.

‘Complaints? What kind? About the noise?’

‘No – not about the noise.’

‘Who is it, darling?’ Ruth’s distinctive voice sounded from somewhere deep inside the suite.

‘It’s Julie,’ Callum said.

‘Julie who?’

‘Julie Thompson,’ he called back, having read my name badge. I felt a flutter of annoyance. There had been no mistaking the fact that Callum’s eyes had wandered from my badge to the subtle cleavage afforded by my regulation blouse. He was a newly married man and shouldn’t have been doing that. I had an urge to fasten another button but knew that it would be too obvious and would only draw further unwanted attention.

There was the sound of soft footsteps. Ruth arrived, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist. They were indeed a very odd couple, mismatched somehow: Callum was Irish, five-foot-seven, and liked to talk about the incomprehensible things he did with computers. Ruth, over six feet tall and with silky hair cascading over her broad shoulders, came across as being totally up herself. Yes, she was beautiful, but it’s hard to like someone who sees themselves as being “superior”. I wasn’t surprised to discover that she still didn’t know who I was despite having made daily demands of me for nearly two weeks.

Ruth was wearing her husband’s creased shirt, no doubt having picked it up from where it had been thrown at the start of this latest round of lovemaking – even the maids had been complaining. Her hair was lighter than when she’d arrived, and most of the silkiness had gone. I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction that she was failing to prevent the sun and salt water from turning it into something approximating straw – like they had done to mine. Annoyingly, the lack of hair control had increased Ruth’s beauty – she seemed softer now, more real … more attractive, more alluring; a vulnerability exposed. Her sun-kissed skin was vibrant and energised, perfectly highlighted by the stark whiteness of her husband’s shirt. Ruth had done up only two buttons, the lower one being mismatched – the result of which was half the shirt was being tugged up and I could clearly see the “V” of her pubic area, although it wasn’t hosting a single pube.

Officially, all I had to do was say something subtle, perhaps ask if they wouldn’t mind closing their curtains before they went back to bed. But I wanted to know why they were doing it. Before I managed to find the right words, Ruth gave me a dazzling smile and swept her arm around my shoulder – dragging the shirt up towards her navel – before offering me a swig of champagne from the bottle dangling from her fingers.

‘Ahh, Julie! Come on in. Come and help us celebrate our marriage.’ I was too numb to resist the faux friendship as Ruth happily wrestled me into the room, with her husband closing the door behind us. She was holding on to me, steering me into the lounge. Another trail of clothes, as described by the maids, told the tale of what had been happening in the time leading up to my arrival. Shoes scattered by the door; trousers scrunched by the bin; a red dress tossed over the television; a pile of underwear by the couch and a purple tube of lubricant standing erect on the table. My mind skipped back to the sordid pictures. Not content with “normal” sex, Callum and Ruth had been indulging in more “unconventional” sexual practices – and looked set to repeat them tonight.

‘I want to be able to sit on my balcony without seeing that anal slut,’ had been one of the more specific complaints which had been carefully filed “for urgent attention” on my desk. I wondered whether the people who’d made it were watching now as I engaged with a man hiding his erection under a towel and a woman unconcerned that her pussy was on show. I looked down – I couldn’t help it – and they looked down in unison so that all three of us were staring at Ruth’s exposed crotch.

‘You like my wife’s pussy?’ Callum asked, tugging at his shirt to fully expose his wife’s groin. Ruth’s legs parted slightly and I caught a glimpse of glistening labia before I dragged my eyes away. My head was swimming.

‘Perhaps you’d like to see my husband’s cock?’ Ruth asked, adding a sultry look to the husky tone in her voice. My body was frozen in place by overridden thought processes. I did want to see Callum’s cock in the flesh. My level of arousal leaped as Ruth tugged at the knotted towel and did a slow reveal to leave Callum naked with his erection pointing in my general direction. He stood there shamelessly and I felt the heat rising as my body responded. Who
did
that? Particularly newlyweds in a goldfish-bowl of an apartment with the curtains open and the lights on.

Moments later, their nudity was complete as Ruth twanged the remaining buttons and dropped the shirt on the floor. She wore no jewellery – she had the kind of body where any kind of adornment would detract rather than enhance its effect.

They were so brazen and my breath caught as Ruth’s hand moved down and gripped her husband’s cock. They were both watching me, eager for my reaction as she began stroking it, pulling the skin back and forth, revealing more and more of the angry purple of Callum’s glans.

As the initial shock began to fade, I was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. I felt like a pervert, intruding into the consummation of a marriage. But intertwined with the guilt was a terrible excitement. It was the first time I had seen two people naked together and my official duties were forgotten as the hunger between my legs became irresistible. As I watched Ruth caress her husband, my mind was filling with a fantasy where I stepped across the gap and grabbed a handful of cock with one hand, then brought the other up between her legs and slid a finger along her moist slit before hooking it up inside her pussy.

My own pussy was quivering with excitement, the nerves firing in anticipation of being stimulated. But for now I just watched – there was a weight of inhibition pressing in on me. Part of me was still their holiday rep, watching as they touched each other inappropriately.

It felt like I was in a daydream as Ruth started wanking Callum’s cock. He let out a few noises of appreciation as her hand worked up and down his shaft. I longed to do the same, to wrap my hand around it and feel the skin moving back and forth over the hard core within.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Ruth’s lips. They knew – we all knew – that the fact I was still there spoke of my acceptance.

‘Why don’t you come over and have a feel?’ The words came from Ruth’s lips but I suspected that she was voicing Callum’s desires. As though in a trance, I stepped forward and took his cock in my hand. So hot, so hard, so eager. Natural instincts took over and my hand started stroking by itself; lightly at first, feeling the length of it, the girth and the fiery heat. This cock belonged to Ruth – I was wanking a “married” cock for the first time. It was against my beliefs to do this. Married men were strictly out of bounds. But that rule didn’t take account of a willing spouse watching me, encouraging me to do it.

I wanted to feel it inside me. The thought was so dirty. I closed my eyes as I imagined it probing between my fleshy labia, searching for my opening, and, having found it, squeezing inside me. I groaned as I pictured the scene in more detail and felt my pussy clenching around the phantom intruder. I hungered for him – desperate to push him back onto the sofa, mount him and feed his cock into my twitching hole. I needed to feel him inside me.

Lips on mine snapped me out of my little reverie. My eyes flew open and saw Ruth’s face pressing against mine. My hand found her hip and then dropped down on to her bare bum. As she pulled in closer, I allowed my hand to move around her waist and then trail between her buttocks. My whole body was thudding with excitement as my fingertip explored the moist roughness of Ruth’s arsehole. She sighed and wriggled against me, enjoying what I was doing to her. I liked girls’ bums but I’d never felt a bumhole which had been stretched open by a cock before. At least, not that I knew of. But as I stood there being kissed by Ruth, I knew that the cock in my right hand had been inside the bumhole I was exploring with my left middle finger.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting – I thought there’d be a tell, something physical which would flash like a beacon to advertise what she’d been doing; that she’d been having anal sex. But it just felt normal. Tight, even. I pressed my finger into Ruth’s anus, expecting my slender digit to penetrate her easily. Instead, her sphincter resisted and she pushed in against me even harder as she tried to escape.

‘Easy, tiger!’ she said, gripping my wrist and guiding my hand away from her arse. I flushed as I suddenly realised what I was doing – Ruth had no idea that I knew about her anal antics and I imagined what my response would be if someone tried to stick something up my bum without using any lubrication. The colour deepened as my embarrassment grew.

‘Oh honey, you look so hot,’ Ruth said, pushing my hair back behind my shoulder before tracing her fingertip down the edge of my blouse. ‘Perhaps we should …’

I knew what she was going to do but watched in mute horror as she yanked at the buttons. I released her husband’s cock as she threw my blouse onto the floor behind me. I had to fight the urge to pick it up and fold it neatly over the back of the sofa.

I fully expected her to undo my bra but what she did next was so much sexier – she pulled the cup away, very tenderly, took a brief peek at the exposed breast, the erect nipple, and smiled at Callum. We were sharing a secret from her husband, and it was delicious.

That little display let me know that Ruth was in charge of proceedings, the alpha – as I had suspected – but actually seeing it happen excited me more than the feel of her husband’s throbbing erection in my hand. Ruth yanked on my zip and moments later my skirt went loose and dropped to the floor. Both Callum and Ruth pressed in against me and the feeling of so much skin on mine – soft, smooth femininity and hard, hairy masculinity – combined to make my body erupt with desire. I was desperate to get fully naked with them. Ruth kissed me again and this time I kissed her back, opening my mouth against hers as I brought my hand up between her legs. They parted and I felt the heat and then soft wetness.

‘Oh … God, yes,’ she whispered, as my fingers found the bump of her clitoral hood. I didn’t explore further. I circled my fingertip gently around and around, a ceaseless motion that spread her juices from within her slit up onto her shaved mound. Her body was rocking back and forth, her eyes closed, her mouth moving with unspoken words. She was concentrating, concentrating on the sensations I was giving her. My own pussy was crying out for attention but it would have to wait. It felt good to deny myself.

I gently increased the speed of my fingers and felt the tension rise in Ruth’s body. I just hoped that I could take her to that perfect peak of pleasure. I didn’t want to tease her: I wanted to make her orgasm; I wanted to make that ridiculously hot body quiver with ecstasy; give Ruth an intense moment of sexual release.

I rubbed harder, feeling the soft flesh of her labia stretching. She sighed and her fingers dug into my hips.

‘Fuck her,’ she groaned, simultaneously sliding her hands down, dragging my knickers with them. I felt the air circulate between my legs as the skimpy material dropped down my thighs. There was no hesitation as Callum pulled away and moved in behind me. He’d been anticipating the command and I wondered how many times they’d done this before; how many times they had fucked a girl together. The idea sent sexual thrills deep into my core. I wanted it, wanted to share myself with them; wanted Ruth’s husband to fuck me.