There can be many factors related to a voyeuristic experience. Timing and luck can be included, but unless someone shuns timidity and once in a while acts on impulse, the moment fizzles and the opportunity fades away. Some people consider voyeurism as secondary to the physical experience. They don't understand that true voyeurism transcends the gratification derived by each person being watched, allowing the voyeur to absorb the pleasure of all the participants. And, when the voyeur adds a little impulsive behavior to the mix, sparks start to fly.
I was raised in a secluded environment. I was home schooled and spent most of my time with my family. When I was eighteen I never discussed sex with anyone, afraid that my fixation with women's bodies would be considered a bad thing. Once when we were on vacation, I wound up sharing a bedroom with my Aunt Laura. My assumption is that we were paired together out of convenience. Someone might have asked her preference, and she might have been happy about the arrangement because she liked me. I don't know.
Aunt Laura was the hottest looking person in my family, but she didn't flaunt her looks with outwardly sexy clothes. When it came to attire, she leaned more toward a classy, conservative style, but with good taste. And what I mean by "good" is the kind that a voyeur can appreciate. Even though her dresses were long, they usually included a hint of mystery, such as a strategically placed slit to reveal one of her well toned thighs, or a backless design, which still to this day drives me wild when I see a well put together woman dressed with her back exposed.
She always treated me kindly. If she was aware that her young nephew was harboring sexual feelings sparked by the temporary living arrangement, she didn't say anything. I don't believe she was capable of having physical attraction to an inexperienced 18 year old, much less her sister's son. The erotic nature of our being roommates, and the resulting lust, was generated solely by me.
As far as I can remember, sexuality was my first cognitive awareness, and all my other thought processes followed. I only say this because at all times, every moment, I see the sexual aspect of things first. If I perceive just an inkling of eroticism, everything else becomes secondary. It could be a business function, competing in a sporting event, or being sick in bed. If a situation develops, such as being attended by an attractive nurse, or competing against a female in a jog bra, I focus on it, no matter what else is happening, like a dog on a bone. I could be a groom in the middle of the ceremony, and if there were a pretty girl in the audience with revealing attire, the sight of her would be on my mind as I said, "I do."
But my name's not Freud, and I'm not here to bore you about my psyche. The last thing I'll mention about it is that even though the essence of my being relates to sex, I usually try to avoid acting on my impulses, because with most people impulsive behavior is construed as obnoxious. I'm content to watch and observe things, all the while learning to hone my watching and observing skills.
Which brings me back to sharing the room with Aunt Laura. One morning I woke as she sat upright on her bed facing me, with her naked back to the window, soaking in the sunlight. As I peered through my nearly closed eyelids, Aunt Laura was brushing her long straight hair, and the forward strokes pulled it over her breasts, extending down to her lap, splaying onto the bedspread and around her sides.
The sight reminded me of an illustration of a mermaid from a book I once read. The drawing had lacked detail of the mermaid's torso, and now I was learning how to fill in those blanks. I pretended to adjust my sleeping position, by stretching my arm above my head and then letting it flop across my face, knowing that it would help disguise the fact that I was actually awake and watching her.
She was softly humming with a piano tune from the radio, sometimes closing her eyes for a few seconds, all the while keeping rhythm. Her and my mother had both studied piano, making music part of our family life. When she seemed content that the brushing was finished she placed it on the pillow by her side, and at that moment I realized she only was wearing blue lace panties. I would have noticed sooner if I hadn't been mesmerized by the vision of her breasts as they hung under the veil of her dark hair like mysterious round globes.
It was the first time I had ever seen a woman topless. My body began to react with sensations I never felt before. My breathing got harder, and an erection quickly grew in my boxers as I lay under the thin veil of my bed sheet. The weather was too hot to bother with pajamas or blankets.
Aunt Laura's thighs were together, pointing directly toward me, and her feet hung down from the side of the bed just above the floor, crossing each other, with slender toes pointing in opposite angles. As she lifted both arms to manipulate her hair into some kind of braid, the strands covering her breasts spread thinner, and I noticed there was a dark skinned circle at the center of each globe.
As her hands reached the top of her head, the strands widened further apart to give me a clear view of the dark areolas, with their pointed tips. They were exciting to see as occasionally they lifted and then returned, in unison with her arm movements.
Seeing nipples for the first time was more than a naive 18 year old could bear, and in the midst of learning what a breast actually looked like, I also learned that a prolonged excitement could have erupting results. I should have realized that the tremors in my groin were a warning, but I was mesmerized, like a deer caught staring at the headlights of a car.
As I quickly turned away from my aunt, once again trying to feign a repositioning in my sleep, the spurts shot out into my boxers. I had never experienced an ejaculation caused by merely watching something. Up until then, my only source of pleasure had been masturbation. It took all of the self control I could muster to not squeeze my cock with my hand to heighten my pleasure. I didn’t want to risk catching the attention of Aunt Laura. It seemed like forever before she finally left the room so that I could privately clean myself up.
There was another day when we were all at the beach and got drenched in a sudden rain shower. We carried our soaked blankets and towels back to the beach house as the rained poured down. I shivered all the way back to the house, and sat on my bed with my arms wrapped around my knees trying to stay warm.
