Voyeurism: True Confessions posted 6/13/2008 11:05:32 PM | 1 kudo what's this?     report abuse tagged: voyeurism, fun, naked

mollard

I thought it might be rather funny and interesting to start a blog about voyeurism. These days, being a premeditated watcher can get you in a whole poopload of trouble, but perhaps someone out there might be willing to share such experiences from the past. Anyway, this is a true story that honestly doesn’t involve me directly, because I declined to participate when the opportunity arose. I like to think that it was my high moral standards that kept me from peeping, but in truth I admit that it was stone cold fear that kept me from acting.

Back in 1978, I had re-enrolled in college after a three-year hiatus. Not wanting to live in a dorm, I considered all my options with regard to housing. Well, it just so happened that I learned that my old friend from high school, Joe, was moving up to a city only about 15 miles from where I was going to go to school. I had roomed with Joe during my freshman year at another college, 3 years earlier, and had a whole lot of fun with him partying, doing road trips, and just plain goofing around. Joe had actually taken me on my first trip to a strip club when I was just 18; he had been making the rounds since age 17, so he knew the best places not to get thrown out of. While in 1978 I was taking another serious whack at college, Joe had abandoned higher education and was following a pussy trail – a rather hot and undeniably gorgeous off-and-on girlfriend whose family had moved up to near where I would be going to college. So, fate brought us together once again even though we were moving in very different directions.

Since we were both young and nearly penniless, our choices of housing were rather limited. We ended up finding a second floor apartment in an old tenement building that was literally falling apart. An expectedly odd collection of neighbors permeated the building, not really the kind of folks I was used to hanging out with. This became quite clear after only a few weeks. On the first floor just under our apartment, lived a young couple. He was a hippie dude, almost always stoned. She was a longhaired blonde bombshell with legs to die for. It was late September and I was in my bedroom studying engineering mechanics, when Miss Legs sashays into my room and plops down on the desk in front of me with those magnificent legs just as inviting as all get-out. Now, I had never even spoken to this chick before! She tells me that Joe had let her in, “blah, blah, (readjust the legs a bit more), blah, blah, (find a more enticing position), blah, blah, and by the way can I borrow your car?” I wasn’t gonna bite in spite of the come on. Nobody borrows my 1967 Mercury Montego! But I did offer to take her and her boyfriend where they needed to go, but that’s another (rather interesting) story.

So, that set the tone for many of the upcoming interactions we were to have with our neighbors. Now what I really wanted to talk about is the woman who lived next door to us on the same floor. She appeared to be single, 30-ish, and maybe a notch or two below average looking. We’d sometimes run into her on the stairs, but we never exchanged more than a passing “hello.” Well, the walls in that building were paper-thin. And, when I said it was falling apart, I meant it. It appeared that the bathroom in our unit was directly on the other side of the wall from Ms. Plain Jane’s bathroom. If we happened to be jointly visiting our bathrooms, it wasn’t hard to tell what was going on next door. Whether she was pooping or preening, the activities on the other side of what masqueraded as a wall weren’t hard to divine. Apparently, the plumbing for the two bathrooms was intertwined – we seemed to share common water supply lines. Being an engineering student, I was curious about piping systems, and I wondered why there seemed to be a lot of wadded up toilet paper packed around the supply pipes where they disappeared into the wall. So, I yanked some of it out. To my surprise, I had a direct view into Ms. Jane’s bathroom. And, even more surprising, she happened to be in there at the time and I was treated to some rather intimate views of bare knees just inches from my eyeballs. Well, if you had a knee fetish, that was just the thing, but any body parts more alluring lie beyond the field of view of the gaps around the pipes. And, I must admit, I wasn’t into being a Peeping Tom, so I quickly turned my attention to less prurient pursuits. After the coast was clear on the other side of the wall, I carefully replaced the TP wads to return our universe to normalcy.

Of course, I did mention the incident to Joe. His reaction was predictable in that his mind began to fill with all kinds of possibilities based on my accidental discovery. Soon, Joe was sizing up the bathroom from every possible angle. As a result of his research, Joe determined that the two bathrooms were mirror images separated by that common wall. Now, to Joe, this was intriguing, since it meant that Ms. Jane’s shower stall was directly opposite our shower. For Joe, showers offered much more in the way of potential voyeuristic pleasure than knees in front of sinks, so he decided to probe further. Above our shower was a dropped ceiling with those removable hard foam-like ceiling tiles. Well, Joe decided he had to know what was up there, so he removed a few of the ceiling tiles over our shower. Then, after piling a considerable amount of furniture into the shower and climbing thereon, he made the discovery that above the tiles, the wall between the two apartments (and the two showers) essentially did not exist. When he looked up and over the partition, he found himself staring down at the ceiling panels that presumably lay upon the crossbars above Ms. Jane’s shower. Now Joe just HAD to know, so he made a little hole in Ms. Jane’s ceiling tile and carefully removed a small piece of tile about a half inch in diameter, taking care to not let the piece fall. As he peered through the little hole, to his growing excitement he realized that he was indeed looking straight down into our neighbor’s shower.

Joe was excited beyond comprehension. He very carefully replaced the piece of tile he had removed and secured it in place with masking tape. “Now,” Joe gloated, “all we need to do is wait for her to take a shower!” It turned out to be a rather long wait. With each passing day, I became more disgruntled with the dressers and chairs that had been piled in our shower in preparation for the anticipated event. And then one day, just moments after Joe had left the apartment to go visit Hot Girlfriend, I heard the shower go on next door. Not wanting to disappoint my friend (and wanting desperately to get the furniture out of our shower), I ran to the window and saw that Joe was just getting into his car out in the parking lot. I ran down the stairs and intercepted him, just as he was about to leave. “Joe, she’s taking a shower!” I exclaimed. Within seconds, the engine in Joe’s car had been turned off, his trip ha

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