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Uncle Jon had a peculiar, and the family thought, harmless hobby: perched in his eighth floor New York apartment, he whiled away the hours exploring the city through a pair of expensive binoculars. When I was little he’d let me look through them as he pointed out interesting architectural features on buildings. I think that was one of the reasons I ended up studying architecture. On a clear day he’d take me up to the roof, from which we could see all the way downtown to the Statue of Liberty.

Thus, I grew up thinking city-gazing was as normal as bird-watching and after Uncle Jon died, my aunt presented me with his binoculars. I was 26 years old when I realized, when I hadn’t been around to cramp his style, Uncle Jon had found subjects for study that were far more entertaining than Lady Liberty.

One evening, while casually running my binoculars up, down and around, I was stopped dead by the sight of a young woman preparing to take a shower. Feeling I was invading her privacy, I quickly turned my specs to the right, only to land on a window with a couple locked in an amorous embrace, the woman’s red sweater raised to reveal her breasts. Shocked by this, I dropped the binoculars into my lap as the implications sank in: Uncle Jon had been having a lot of fun watching the private lives of others. I shuddered, wondering if my uncle had been a pervert. He’d had a fairly normal relationship with my aunt, and I certainly never recalled him touching me in an inappropriate manner. And yet, there was no getting around the fact that he’d enjoyed watching people during their most intimate moments.

Slowly, I raised the binoculars and focused on the couple making love. They’d progressed to the point where they were lying down, and therefore were hidden from view. Moving my super specs left, I saw the young woman emerge, wet and glistening, from her shower, and watched her dry herself, vigorously rubbing her breasts with the towel. My God, why didn’t she pull the shade? And how could that couple paw each other in full view of the entire city? Maybe Uncle Jon wasn’t the only weirdo around. Maybe the city was crawling with exhibitionists begging to be watched. Shaken, I had a martini and carefully closed every shade and curtain before going to bed.

The next day I couldn’t stop thinking about my experience. Despite the fact that I didn’t think it was right, I couldn’t wait to get home from work and “watch the movie,” as I came to think of it. Although I felt somewhat guilty and still thought of Uncle Jon as perverted, I had to admit that I understood him. Excited by what lay ahead of me I cancelled dinner with my boyfriend Don and declined my friend Sally’s invitation to the movies. I had to follow my curiosity, never mind about it killing the cat.

I set myself up for the evening, bringing a comfortable chair and bottle of wine over to my post. The city’s lit windows twinkled against the darkening sky. As the night wore on, the prudent closed their curtains, while the more daring remained exposed to hungry eyes. I watched as mothers prepared babies for bed, teenagers copped one last feel before separating and older couples climbed into bed and shut off the light. Finally, I got lucky, no pun intended and I hit upon a couple directly across the street, a few stories down, whose window angle allowed me full view of their activities.

They were black, completely naked and lazily slithered over and around each other, unaware they were providing me with some hot entertainment. They were extremely sensual, wrapping their long smooth limbs in an endless variety of positions. I was surprised to find what turned me on most wasn’t the sex, but the looks on their faces as they came.
 
First her orgasm began, her mouth opened wide; apparently she was making a lot of noise, which of course I couldn’t hear. Her eyes were half closed and in them was a look of ecstasy bordering on suffering. As her head thrashed from side to side, I zeroed in on her partner and watched his face crumble as he came.

At that point I abandoned the binoculars to tend to my own needs. I pulled my skirt up and slipped my hand in under my panties. I was soaking wet. I pulled my panties off and brought them to my nose. Then I reached in again and started to touch myself, rubbing my swelling clit back and forth with my fingertips. Then I pulled out my vibrator.  It hummed quietly as I pressed it between my legs. Despite the fact that I had turned the lights off in my apartment so that nobody could see what I was up to, I fantasized that somebody was watching me as I came.

As time went on, I selected a few main stars from the cast of characters I could see from my window; on any given night I could locate at least one couple making love, one bather, and one masturbator. The scene was so hot that I lost interest in seeing Don, who began to protest about my lack of attention to him.

One night, as I sat munching popcorn and gazing through my specs, I heard a key turn in the lock, and froze. Don had a key to my apartment, but he’d never used it without my knowing he was coming. When he walked in, I was more relieved than angry that he hadn’t been a burglar. But I cringed with embarrassment when Don observed the darkened room and the setup by the window.

In this case, one picture was indeed worth a thousand words, as the scene revealed the sordid story of my last few weeks. I had just about moved into the window-seat, furnishing it with big soft pillows and blankets. Lying atop the bedding were my binoculars, vibrator, dildo, and lubricating jelly. The floor was strewn with candy wrappers, and an empty wine glass stood on the sill.

Don said incredulously, “This is what you’ve been doing?”

I held my breath as he came over and took the binoculars and peered through them. To my surprise, a low throaty chuckle emerged, as he moved from window to window, pausing every now and then to observe a scene.

“This is some hobby, Babe. How’d you ever get into this?”
 
“Well, see, my Uncle Jon . . .” I began, hesitatingly at first, then excitedly describing the scenes I’d witnessed, pointing Don in key directions.

At first he roared with laughter but when he came to the black lovers with the expressive faces, he remained riveted to them and I watched the bulge in his denim pants grow and throb.

Hardly believing it was happening, I knelt on the pillows, unzipped the growing bulge in his jeans and took out his throbbing meat. The sexual odor of his sweat came up to my nose and I parted my lips to take him into my mouth. I licked and sucked, sliding his dick all the way down the recesses of my throat, excited by the thought that he was watching my favorite couple do their thing. When he came, I pictured the woman’s open mouth, the man’s pursed lips, and greedily swallowed. Maybe my couple had been watching us!  Quietly Don stroked my hair. I looked up at him.
 
“Whew!” was all he said before carrying me off to the bedroom.

After a few weeks of watching our couple (yes, we felt some possession over them at this point) we decided to combine our two pleasures. One night Don brought another pair of binoculars and we finished one bottle of wine before we turned out the lights and set another bottle near our chair. We got each other undressed and played around for a while, and then we got positioned. I was on my hands and knees, and he was behind me. We each had a pair of binoculars. I rested mine on the back of the chair, while Don rested his on my shoulder. We scanned the building across the way, hoping the black couple would be at it that night but their window was dark.

Then we saw the light come on in the apartment of a blonde woman I had sometimes watched coming out of the shower. She came in the door with a man and another woman, this one a brunette with short hair. They were all dressed in evening clothes. The man and the brunette sat on the sofa while the blonde got drinks. Then the women sat on either side of the man. Soon they were undressing him. We couldn’t figure out what was going on until we realized that the blonde must be a prostitute! She had brought home a client and another prostitute so he could indulge his desire to be with two women at the same time. And indulge he did!
 
The scene was so stimulating that Don wasted little time slipping his cock inside me. He thrusted gently so that we wouldn’t jiggle our binoculars too much and spoil our view of the orgy across the way. The two prostitutes had the man undressed and were all over him on the sofa. One was sitting on his face while the other was sitting on his cock. Then the two women went down on each other for his entertainment.

Don climaxed quickly, but he was soon ready for more. He entered me again while I had one hand between my legs rubbing my clit and the other hand holding my binoculars. The two prostitutes were holding onto their client’s penis, passing it back and forth between their mouths. Don was about to come a second time and I dug my fingers more firmly between my legs. We all came together, Don into me, I let loose with the most fantastic orgasm I ever had, and the man across the way came into the air.
 
After that, Don and I enjoyed many more voyeristic sessions, watching other couples and shamelessly, nay, joyously, exposing our own lovemaking in front of the window. We sometimes even made a point of keeping the lights on so that others could see us if they were into what we were into. I don’t know who was watching us, but I bet we provided many other voyeurs with entertaining, exciting scenes, and it gave us a lot of extra stimulation.

Check here every Thursday for another edition of Private Lives, a sexy new series featuring anonymous first person accounts.

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