The Collector (9 page)

I never found out their name. They spoke quietly and never once looked me in the eye. I have no idea how they heard about my quest for erotic experiences. I’m just very glad they found me.

Her breasts were so full that the lens on the binoculars had to be adjusted. They were more like silky smooth balloons really. Beautifully round balloons with large pert peaks that just invited an extra blow.

From this distance the watcher was unable to hear the moans and sighs that they knew would be emanating from her slightly parted lips, although they could clearly see the sweaty moisture that had gathered around her full mouth.

Lying on her back, head tilted slightly, legs flat but parted, the watcher held their breath as the blonde’s manicured fingers ran over her own tits. Completely unaided, she was slowly pushing herself to the point of no return. She was obviously in no hurry, and the watcher was grateful.

Adjusting their sweat dampened clothing, the watcher pondered the contents of the showgirl’s dirty mind. Perhaps she was lying on a four poster bed in a beautiful room, tied up, being beaten by a man in black. Perhaps, in her imagination, she was being rubbed up against a tree, deep within a thick forest, her perfect skin snagging against the bark. Maybe she was on all fours, a woman smothering her mouth as a penis pumped its worth between her tight butt cheeks.

The watcher switched back to the spectacle before them. It was too risky to continue with pondering the contents of the blonde’s erotic peccadilloes; they didn’t want to come there and then. Once again the lenses were adjusted. Wiping the perspiration from around the eye pieces, the watcher focused on the prostrate figure writhing on top of an unzipped sleeping bag.

Her hands were no longer fondling her handsome chest, but were trailing between her legs. One leg had been raised slightly and was bent at the knee, the other remained flat on the floor, hiding the sure fact that she was dipping her fingers in and out of her moist pussy. The waves of want she was creating as she massaged her distended clit were almost tangible. The watcher swallowed; their throat was as dry as hers must be as she played with her snatch.

Her movements became faster and faster, until, at last, she began to raise her hips off the floor, pushing herself hard against her own hand. A finger strayed inside her hot sticky hole and the watcher could faintly hear her initial mews of lust and satisfaction over the background noise as she brought her body towards the point of ecstasy. Then suddenly her panted gasps were clearly audible as her head rolled from side to side, her blonde hair tangling beneath her head, until at last she lay still, sated.

Start again. Start again. The watcher was silently willing her on. More, more, and they was not alone. At the back of the room the spectator stood upon an old wooden chair to achieve the best possible view, binoculars lowered, arms resting, hands sticky and weak, their own arousal began to subside a little. A drink would help. Jumping down from the chair, they weaved their way through to the bar and ordered a pint, which their parched lips gratefully welcomed.

The watcher focussed on the crowd. Many, mostly men, jostled at the front of the stage waiting for the next performance. The silent figure preferred the back. You couldn’t hear much anyway above the jeers of the crowd, but a good imagination could fill in the blanks, making it more erotic than it really was, continually pushing their own fantasy laden boundaries.

The shrieks coming from the front alerted the voyeur to the blonde’s return to the stage. They raced back to the chair, instantly turned on as they admired the white lace topped hold-ups encasing the firm cream legs. This was obviously a girl who worked out, and wasn’t afraid of the occasional botox jab. The watcher was not complaining. Certainly not.

The sleeping bag had been cast aside, but as the blonde circled the chair that had replaced it, a neat set of zip prints could clearly be seen embedded into her skin. The lights dimmed and the thud of music hit a crescendo in the smoky room. Blue neon illuminated the stage as the woman’s flirty smile seemed to aim itself at every individual in the overcrowded room.

Gyrating to the back beat that vibrated around the club, the blonde sat on the edge of the chair, legs wide, fingers displaying her vulva to the hungry crowd. This was the part of the show the watcher had been waiting for. The solo warm up was over, now she wanted a thorough seeing to and her eyes scanned the room for someone to quench her seemingly insatiable need.

Boy she was hot. The watcher focused on the hands with which she kneaded her full boobs. The girl stood up, and beckoned into the temporarily hushed crowd. A tall slim man approached her from the other side of the room.

As usual she had chosen well. Not a terribly attractive man, but well built, and judging by the bulge in his jeans, well hung. His olive skin shone with perspiration as his colleagues shouted obscene support towards the stage.

The blonde wasted no time and opened his shirt buttons, revealing a breathtakingly smooth chest, which her tongue quickly tasted, while she placed his rough hands onto her tits. This time the sigh that escaped her lips was so loud that the witness, binoculars firmly in position, felt it vibrate through their own body. The man was gorgeous. As she stripped away his denims, shoes and socks, the watcher swallowed hard. Their mind had already fixed a picture of him, bent double, a thick dick pushing between his curved buttocks. Perhaps the girl would be there too, perhaps not; that was a dream for later.

The watcher’s eyes refocused. The chosen man had taken the blonde’s place on the very edge of the chair. His hands were tied behind his back and his eyes were encased in a black velvet mask, completing his temporary enslavement to this creamy goddess. Once she had arranged him to her satisfaction the temptress sat astride his lap facing the audience, his fiercely erect dick poking out between her legs.

This wasn’t right. She appeared to be looking for someone else. The watcher’s heartbeat quickened, this was not the normal routine. She should have been on her hands and knees, her mouth working its way around her subject’s cock. The change in routine was unnerving; the guy should have spunked all over her face by now.

She beckoned to a deeply tanned young woman, whose jet black tightly cropped hair framed her soft face. A nod from the blonde and she mounted the stage before stripping slowly, teasingly, returning the crowd to its accustomed frenzy of hunger and desire. Stood now in just sheer black hold-ups, she was a perfect contrast to her paler counterpart, who remained sat on the chair behind her.
So
, thought the watcher,
this has been planned
.
It’s okay
. Breathing a sigh of relief, they relaxed and prepared to enjoy the forthcoming visual feast.

The blonde got off the man’s lap and turned to the new female. The electricity between the women was almost visible as they attacked each other’s mouths with furious need. The audience’s taunts were obviously turning them on further as they stroked and kneaded each others breasts, totally ignoring the captive man behind them. The observer delighted in imagining his confusion. He must be aware that some action was going on in front of him, but was frustratingly unable to join in.

The blonde laid herself back on the floor, but this time the tanned girl quickly joined her. Head to snatch, each greedily licked out the other. The watcher could hear hasty wagers being taken all around as fellow voyeurs lay bets on who would come first.

Sticky liquid ran freely down the girls quivering legs as their saliva mixed with their pussy juices. They were moving their hands across each other with increasing pace; their tongues quickening, each trying to control themselves, whilst attempting to make the other come. Mewls began to emanate from the blonde’s mouth, as despite herself, her incredible body lost the battle and shivered with both satisfaction and defeat.

Leaving her partner panting on the ground, the black haired girl stood and made her way to the waiting man, finally rewarding him for his patience by placing a pair of firm lips around his rigid dick. The watcher sighed and adjusted the binoculars so that they could better view the tongue that was licking the beautiful cock as if it was an exquisite ice cream.

Just as the tone of the man’s cries told the room he was about to explode, the dark haired girl turned to face her audience, before sheathing his cock, sitting astride him and jamming the thick width up inside her. Grinding up and down wildly, her face crunched up in release as they both exploded to the delighted whoops of crowd.

Not to be outdone, the blonde rose from her place on the floor, and kneeling in front of her friend, pushed her back so that she lent heavily onto the man, his penis still trapped inside her. The sight of the freshly exposed clit through the lenses was almost too much for the watcher as they witnessed the blonde circle her tongue slowly around the perfect nub, until the dark girl’s contented sigh made the bound man yell out in discomfort beneath her.

The watcher’s arms ached with the tension of keeping still, and her body ached from not being allowed to respond to the show she had been watching so closely. She could no longer ignore her own desires as she heard the roar of the man on stage, who'd been released to fall upon the women who had made him their willing prisoner.

Cradling her beloved binoculars, she pushed through the crush, making her way outside as quickly as possible. She was very aware of the dampness that had spread between her legs and stuck her satin knickers against her mound. The flat was very close, and her breathing quickened as she fumbled for her door keys.

Throwing her belongings to the floor, her tight fitting jeans and cropped top were swiftly discarded. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, the red haired girl smiled as she pulled down her knickers, and stood simply in white lace topped hold-ups. With a last look at her own unbound chest, she lay down on the sleeping bag she had placed on the floor earlier.

Some years ago, when I was still respectable, I went to university. Whilst I was there, I made the best friends I’ve ever had, one of whom is still heavily embroiled in student life. Over the past ten years Jack has worked his way from one degree to another, determined to put off entering the “real world” for as long as possible.

Recently we had one of our regular coffee trips together, to catch up on all the gossip. One look at Jack, a broad smile plastered across his face, his deep blue eyes twinkling as he sipped his coffee, and I knew he had a story to tell. Being one of my greatest supporters, he was more than willing to help me note down his adventure.

The general din from the concert behind me had reached such a level of confusion that hand signals were now the only possible means of communication. As I slowly inched closer to the bar, I began to wonder how on earth I’d get our drinks back through the heaving mass of people.

Thankful that I wasn’t claustrophobic, I slowly shuffled along with the crowd. I could still move my arms but otherwise I was almost totally immobilised. For some unseen reason we had all come to a complete stop. Being above average height gave me the advantage of spotting potential “sliding into gaps” opportunities, but eventually I had to accept that I was going nowhere fast, and was destined to remain thirsty for some time.

I looked around at my temporary colleagues. Apart from hair colour, and a stab at gender, I couldn’t really tell you much about the people who were standing so close to me that we knew what the sides of each others legs felt like.

My mind started to wander. A thirty or so deep crowd of people, all piling in one direction – what were they all thinking? How many pockets had been picked? How many people were accidentally on purpose feeling up the person in front of them?

I began to imagine how I’d react if a strange pair of hands started to stroke my arse as I stood there, unable to move, my protests going unheard. My hands began to itch as I turned my attention to the person directly in front of me. Female, above average height, bright red hair in tidy bunches, short skirt; older than eighteen I guessed, perhaps younger than twenty-five.

I was so close to her that as I looked down I had an excellent view of the top of her head. My crotch was already lightly rubbing against her flimsy skirted rear, and the urge to put my hands over her shoulders and slide them down onto her breasts (which my imagination had decided would be both full and firm), was overwhelming.

I still can’t believe I did it. What if she’d screamed? I’d have been arrested for sure, if anyone should have had heard her.
I would like to be able to say I’d been tentative and gentle; testing the water. But I was straight on, squeezing her tits hard (which were actually small, but beautifully tight). I felt her body stiffen as her attempts to instantly turn around were inhibited by the general crush. I tensed, expecting a slap across my kneading digits. It didn’t come. Instead her body shuffled within its confined space, her own hands slipping behind her and flipping up her short skirt to reveal a pair of neat pale buttocks encased in lace knickers, which she pushed against my hard confined dick.
I must confess to a moment of panic then. What if we were spotted? Her intentions were obviously as impure as my own. I took a deep breath to calm myself; there was no way any extra pushing could be viewed as odd. For all I knew, the entire crowd could have been at it. The only person who may have been more suspicious than the rest was the guy behind me. As I pulled back slightly from this amazing girl, I could feel his cock was also hard. Or was I simply imagining it?
Wriggling one hand down between her arse and my denims I undid my flies and freed my cock. She must have known what I was doing as she instantly pressed back harder, standing on her toes to feel my length better against her buttocks.
I eased the delicate lace knickers to one side and rubbed myself against her rounded flesh. Her hands snaked around behind her and she grabbed my tip with expert fingers. I tried to suppress a groan, but failed, and anxiously looked around at the still oblivious crowd, as her fingers grasped the end of my shaft.
I have no idea how I kept such an impassive expression on my face. A total stranger was wanking me against her bum, and my head was full of the picture we must be creating. What’s more, each time she forced me back fractionally I brushed against the anonymous guy behind me. I swear he was getting harder all the time and I longed to be able to include him in our secret sex.
I guess I became reckless then, because as she smoothed my dick I began to push back harder. All the time I was waiting to be found out, waiting for a cry of protest. None came.
Grateful of her perfect height, I slipped a hand down as far as I could; feeling between her legs, fingering her slippery wetness. Perhaps she was wearing high heels, I couldn’t tell.
I knew I couldn’t hang on much longer. Sandwiched between this horny girl and a hard man, I thought I’d explode with the thought of the situation alone. Knocking her hand away, I notched my shaft against her. Biting my tongue to conceal the noise rising in my throat, I eased into her; each time making sure the guy behind knew exactly what was happening. I longed for him to put a hand around me, to feel for himself how well my cock fitted inside this willing woman. He didn’t, but the idea of it was the final straw, and I quickly filled her with my come.
As I pulled out (not easy in the limited space), I could just see the first trickle of my liquid as it began to run down her legs, before she daintily pulled her knickers back into place and recovered herself with the little green skirt.
The crowd had hardly moved. I don’t suppose the whole thing had taken more than five minutes, but it sure made waiting for that pint a whole lot more interesting.
I hadn’t really thought about the people to the side of us; I am still not sure whether they knew what had happened or not; if they did, no one said anything.
When I finally did reach the bar, the girl had long since been lost in the crush ahead of me, but a friendly voice from behind offered to buy me a drink, and quietly thanked me for making his wait in the queue so enjoyable.