I used to have a job many years ago that entailed me searching people’s found luggage (lost in the first place somewhere in the world) to find an owner. All manner of tricks and tools were at my disposal to locate the owner. Clean clothes meant they were travelling out, dirty clothes meant coming home; where was home, and where were they now? Receipts, diaries, loose change, clothing labels, and photographs we all clues. However, every so often a video cassette (I said it was a long time ago) would be found. The content had to be watched carefully, and privately just in case something was found that required police attention. Fortunately, this only happened once and I was not scarred for life! However, home movies, or holiday movies, were common and vacation rules apply in terms of filming wives half naked changing clothes or men doing helicopter impersonations with their penis. You would be shocked how common that party trick is!
Having so much personal interaction with people’s personal possessions had responsibility, and yet I could not being interested in watching the private antics of holiday makers. I soon realised that this was not a work related illness I had picked up, so when a girlfriend of mine had to change clothes with her friend in the back of my car, my focus on the road was not great! Both made a big deal about it so that I would look in my rear view mirror and get a flash underwear and nipples. It was all innocent fun, but there was another layer being added to my later kink of the future.
At 05.30 every morning I would make myself a cup of tea before leaving for work. The houses that backed onto mine were the same design and had a bathroom at the back. Our neighbours, who I never saw face to face in 6 years had the same frosted glass for anonymity, however, they moved their shower which gave a perfect view of anyone in it, especially in winter when the lights needed to be on. Every week day she was there, perfectly outlined washing her hair, face, shoulders and large breasts took turns to make an appearance. It took time to drink half a cup of hot tea and despite feeling a little bad about looking, I convinced myself that she chose not to buy a screen like us.
The voyeurism with me is now more mature and takes the line of consenting adults being involved and not just chance encounters. My basic form is watching my wife get into bed at night and out of bed in the morning. She comes in from her bath at night, places her silver collar on her chest of drawers, takes out the band in her hair, shakes her head and hangs her robe on the back of the door. She then walks around the bed and get in. In the morning there is a repeat performance but in reverse. I watch her each time, every single day, and I never get tired looking. She is 50 years of age and looks fantastic. She walks upright with her shoulders back and her breasts confidently on show. She knows I’m looking and she knows what I’m thinking, so it’s of no surprise when she catches my eye and I’m looking at her. She is very sexy and I hope she feels it knowing that I do.
I guess there is one other element to this, however, it comes under a different name, but is still voyeurism at its core. I like the thought of others playing with missy, and I make not secret of it. It’s an old fantasy, of which missy has never said never. Over years she has developed a better understanding of my needs and fantasies. She has adapted to them and embraces the possibilities that were not there before. Being able to see her in the throws of an orgasm from a distance would be a thrill for sure. It’s a long way from a lost suitcase I know, but some journeys take longer for good reason!