Robert Vickers: Peeping aunt

When Lynn had gotten a job as a secretary, she let her boss into her pants. She thought she had to if she wanted to keep her job. He had no more cared for her than she had for him. When they'd screwed, she had lain under him like a dead log letting him do whatever he wanted.

It wasn't very satisfying for either of them.

And he'd fired her the next week.

It was sometime before she could even bear the thought of another man touching her. But she'd fallen hard for her new boss. Tall, dark, wavy hair, he was a lady killer. She wanted nothing more than to have him love her with just half the intensity of love she felt for him.

They'd had an affair. Tempestuous and stormy, they'd finally broken up when she found he was also balling two other secretaries as well as her. The thought that it took two others to keep him sexually satisfied had destroyed her self confidence. She didn't have enough sex appeal to keep even one man happy.

She'd quit that job.

And Lynn's next had just recently ended when the company went bankrupt. With the economy in a slump and no one getting hired, she had been forced to take charity from her sister and her husband. The offer of free room and board was too good to pass up. She had only a little savings and that would have evaporated in the spiraling inflation.

As she walked aimlessly along the streets, Lynn blamed inability to get a job on refusing to put out. She was a good secretary, a damn good one.

But she refused to allow any of those bastards doing the interviewing to come on strong. Lynn wasn't going to repeat the last fiasco at sex. She had loved him, really loved him. And she wasn't good enough for him. That crippled her sexually. It hadn't been long after that she found she could get excited looking at pornographic movies.

It had been an almost accidental occurrence. A friend of Dan's was getting married and her brother-in-law had offered to throw a stag party for him. She'd accidentally seen one of the movies they were showing.

Their lewd comments and laughter turned her off, but the sight of the two on the bedsheet hung up for a screen, screwing their brains out, had turned her on. Lynn hadn't believed she could get so hot again.

That posed a dilemma. Did she go out looking for men? Hardly. She was too old for those singles bars. They were nothing but cheap whorehouses, all of them filled with pimps and prostitutes.

She was no whore.

There might have been the outlet of religion. She could have gone to church and found a nice man there. But that seemed hypocritical to her. The last time she'd been in a church was when she was eight years old. She didn't have the slightest idea how to conduct herself in one. And embarrassing herself would hardly win her a man.

Besides, they were all the same. All of them would take her love, a fragile bird, and crush it under their boot heel.

But the memory of the porno flick kept coming back to her. Watching the woman in the throes of ecstasy, even if it was simulated which she thought likely, gave her a brand new outlet. And the sight of the actor's erection certainly hadn't been faked.

She doubted if much was faked after a couple meat shots showing his cock driving hard and fast into the woman's wide-open pussy.

Lynn was faced with a problem. She couldn't go to the skin-flick theaters. Someone might see her. And good ladies would never be caught dead in such a placer. There was something absolutely filthy about even thinking of going to see two people fucking in a movie.

She shivered at the thought, uncertain whether it was, from revulsion or desire.

No, she couldn't go to the theaters to see the hard-core movies. She had found she could conjure up "Do-It-Yourself" hard-core scenes by peeping through opened windows. People were incredibly trusting, even in this day of high crime, about leaving windows and even curtains open.

Lynn had found any number of wide-open windows in the neighborhood. That it was a hot, sticky summer helped a lot. People didn't want to stifle inside their bedrooms. Especially married people. The feel of hot flesh pressed tightly against skin was certain to be uncomfortable if kept there all night long.

Ventilation was needed and that gave her all the opportunity she needed to become a voyeur.

When she discovered her own nephew was bringing girlfriends home to fuck, a new dimension had opened for her. Listening to them told her much of what the current generation thought about sex and other "with-it" topics.

She was appalled. So appalled, in fact, she had to return again and again to Carey's window to find out if he really meant all the things he said, if he really did alt the things he boasted of.

He did.

She couldn't understand the almost lascivious coupling with anything female. Her very own nephew seemed to enjoy it and it was obvious all the chicks did, too. None of them failed to cum three or four times. And one had been referred to as "Iceberg".

Lynn could sympathize with the girl. Blonde, aloof, she could picture herself in the same position. But she'd been really shocked when Carey not only sneaked her into the house one night, but had spent the entire night balling her.

She was no iceberg, not in her nephew's hands.

He'd started out easy, stripping her slowly of both clothes and inhibitions. Lynn watched in rapt fascination. By the time both were naked, she marveled at the girl's body. And Carey was sure to tell her the same, sounding as if he meant every word.

Lynn vaguely understood the boy may have meant what he was saying. He may have loved Sheryle as much as he had said over and over that night. One thing was clear. The boy had a way about him.

And Lynn watched every second of it.

By the time the polar blonde Sheryle had left, she'd last her virginity and cum twice. And she had been begging the boy for more. Lynn wasn't certain if the girl had ever returned or not. Carey had vaguely mentioned something once about her something about creating a Frankenstein's monster.

Aunt Lynn suspected her nephew had turned the girl an to sex so much, she was in demand with all the studs around the school.

She wished she could have had someone like Carey do that for her. But no, she'd lost her virginity to a horny old man. And her very first date couldn't even get it up. Her high school days were a long, never-ending ribbon of horrible memories for her.

Lynn looked up and found she'd wandered far from home. Unconsciously, her feet had taken the dirt road up to the cliff overlooking the city, a notorious lover's lane. She'd heard Carey whispering about it after he'd made love to Joanne.

"Isn't this better than fucking in the back of a car up on Roxbury Lane?" he'd said.

And Joanne had answered, "As long as you get buried rocks deep up my cunt, what do I care?"

The small snippet of conversation had repulsed Lynn, but not as much as her mention of Roxbury Lane to Dan one evening at the dinner table.

"I think it's perfectly terrible what goes on up there on Roxbury Lane," she asserted.

To her immense surprise, Dan had agreed. "Yeah there's even a conservationist group getting upset over it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, seems all the kids go up there every Saturday night and knock a piece off!"

He laughed long and loud at his crude joke. Lynn had actually found herself blushing.

Now, as she walked along the dirt road leading up the mountainside, she wondered what actually did go on up at the top of the mountain. There must be a decent view of the city. She didn't have to see it to know that. This was the highest point around town. After dark, the view would be spectacular.

Puffing from the exertion of the climb, she reached the top. The view was breath-taking. The city lights were like gems dropped from the hand of a drunken giant. Reds and greens and whites and yellows burned against the black velvet of the night.