Woody Allen once said that sex was the most fun he'd ever had without laughing. But laughing and sex are not mutually exclusive. Horniness brings on undignified behaviour, and it is all the more fun if we are in on the joke. This blog is a celebration of the funny side of sex and the sexy side of humour. As an author of erotic stories I like to show that sex is more fun when it is playful and silly.

You can find my humorous erotic ebooks on I-Tunes, Kobo, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords. They are always free!!!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Jeepers Creepers, Get A Load of These Peepers!

We get the term Peeping Tom from a certain tailor who defied Lady Godiva's request that nobody observe her naked ride through Coventry. For drilling a hole and peeking at her nakedness he was supposedly struck blind.

But before and since many a desperate individual peeked in a window hoping to catch a glimpse of a bit of nudity or sexual activity. Generally they were not struck blind, but some, no doubt, were arrested.

Today, television and the internet not only make it possible for us to be voyeurs without paying such a price but, in the case of shows like Big Brother, we might feel positively anti-social if we don't join in on the peeping.

There are many websites where individuals provide spy cams in various parts of their house. Viewing these gives one a newfound respect for more traditional peepers. You can sit there for hours watching an empty room, or somebody sleeping, or, if you are really lucky, checking their emails while fully clothed. In these days when Michael Bay movies and video games have infected us all with Attention Deficit Disorder, the Peeping Tom still retains the virtue of patience, able to stay crouched in an uncomfortable position for hours on the slight hope of catching a glimpse of a bare butt.

In public we all put on something of a false front. The creep peeping into your bedroom window, however, wants to see the real you, he (or she) will not be satisfied with the PG version. The peeper is a perfect model of tolerance and open-mindnesses. Don't trouble yourself about the possibility that your nudity or your behaviour might offend.

So here is my celebration of peepers, in stories, pictures and films. Expect reviews of peeper-related movies to follow.

Peeping Tam by Evangeline Love

Peeping Tam is a free ebook available from Smashwords. Natalie is bored with her latest boyfriend Greg. Little does she know that her neighbour Tam has a crush on her. Or that Tam's bedroom window looks into her own. Tam knows it is wrong to watch Natalie fucking, but she can't help herself. This is a fun little story with a very sexy payoff. I look forward to reading more from Evangeline Love.

Baxter! (1973) (dir. Lionel Jeffries) is a movie which had a big impact on me when I was young. It tells the story of a young American boy with a speech defect. Roger Baxter (Scott Jacoby) can't say his R's. So when he says his own name it comes out as "Woger". He has just moved to England with his mother, who has little time for him. So he makes friends with his neighbours, Roger (Jean-Pierre Cassel) and Chris (Britt Ekland), and a girl who lives across from him, Nemo Newman (Sally Thomsett, who went on to fame as the blonde in Man About the House). A speech therapist, Dr. Roberta Clemm (Patricial Neal) helps Roger with his speech problems and ends up going beyond the call of duty when he suffers a nervous breakdown. It's a film which captures the joy as well as the sadness of life during adolescence, and really deserves to be released on DVD. This video shows one of my favourite scenes in the film in which Roger gets peeked at.

Vanessa's Island

Vanessa's Island is my major work, a novel, almost completed, most of which I wrote back in the 90s. I'm planning to publish it as an ebook sometime later this year. In the meantime, here is a peeking-related extract.

It was no good. I just couldn't get her out of my mind.

I was back on the other side of the island where I lived in a small cottage over-looking the beach. I had my easel set up on a slight rise that gave me a perfect view of the sea and the beach and the rich green vegetation that covered the island from the edge of the beach to its central rocky outcrop which rose to about 20 metres above sea-level behind me.

I was trying to paint, but it was no use. The large rocks that gave the beach its character, round and smooth from thousands of years of tidal erosion, became soft round buttocks. The clouds that hung in a deep blue sky became milky white breasts. And the bushes became...well, bushes.

Could an alcoholic concentrate on his work if he knew that there was an ice cold beer in the lunchroom refrigerator? I rest my case.

There was nothing for it but to pay Vanessa a visit. Maybe if I saw enough of her I would get bored and be able to return to my work. Desensitisation therapy I think they call it.

Now if you really think I believed this crap that I was telling myself then you're a bigger fool than I think you thought that I thought that I was. I think.

No, visiting Vanessa was not going to return my shattered peace of mind, but it would probably give me a hard-on and I was willing to accept that as second best.

The island was not a large one, so it only took about 20 minutes of trudging through the hot, white sand to reach Vanessa's place.

From the beach a cobblestone path curved up through an unkempt cactus garden to Vanessa's front yard. As I got close to her house I heard the sound of softly splashing water and realised that she had turned the fountain back on. This fountain, which had been silent since Old Man Ramsey had become too infirm to visit his island retreat, was in the form of a statue which seemed to depict a naked woman holding a vomiting fish.

As I approached the front door I noticed that the curtains on the front windows were not drawn, so I decided to have a peek.

All right, I know, I was being a peeping Tom, invading Vanessa's privacy. But hadn't she invaded my island? All's fair in love and war, they say. Which one Vanessa and I would end up engaging in I was none too sure of at the moment, but it had to be one or the other.

So I crept over to the window on my left, very aware of the fact that, when it is easy to see in, it is also easy to see out. No luck there, just the kitchen/dining area. Moving stealthily to the other window, however, I found that I was in luck.

This appeared to be a lounge room, but Vanessa had set it up as a room to do her writing. And there she was sitting at her computer, her back, thankfully, towards me.

What I found hard to believe was how she was dressed. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Before I noticed what she was wearing, I notice the fact that her glorious bottom was totally bare.

She was sitting on a backless stool, over which she had draped a fluffy white bath towel. Her arse was even better than I thought it would be. So soft, so pink and with a light dusting of freckles over the top of her hips. I had to suck in my stomach to give my cock room to stretch himself. It was all I could do to resist the temptation to pull down my shorts and jack-off on the spot. But I realised that if Vanessa turned around she would see me.

It was now that I noticed what Vanessa was wearing. Above she wore a pink lace-up, Victorian-style bodice. The laces were threaded but not pulled tight, something which I imagine would have been impossible for one person on their own. Below this she was wearing a white garter-belt and white stockings.

This seemed a strange way for a woman to dress when she was on her own. For a moment I felt a jealous twinge as I wondered if she had brought a visitor to the island. But there was no sign of anyone else.

As I stood there staring at her lovely bottom and listening to the tapping of the keys of her computer, I noticed that occasionally she would stop typing and move her right hand down to her lap. Maybe she has to rest it occasionally so as not to get RSI, I thought. Surely she doesn't have to rest it that long, I wondered. Ha, ha, it almost looks like she's...No, she couldn't be...Shit, I think she is.

I moved in to get a better look at what she was doing with her hand, and my head and the window pane collided with a resounding thwack.

I caught a quick glimpse of Vanessa jumping up from her stool, as I ran and knocked at the front door, hoping I might still be able to salvage the situation.

When Vanessa opened the door she was wearing the towel around her waist. Above her pink bodice a rather large expanse of pale, freckled bosom was exposed, heaving deliciously in her current state of agitation.

"It's only me," I said, in the vain hope that, if I played it cool, she would think that the face in the window was a figment of her imagination.


Personally, I thought she was overreacting. Maybe a change of subject would help to defuse the situation.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked, remember that a person's favourite subject is themself.

"MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!" she shrieked, thus dashing any thoughts I may have had to parlay my diplomatic skills into a job with the United Nations.

"I'm sorry I peeked in your window," I said, trying another tack. "I just caught a glimpse accidentally as I was coming up to the door, and you looked so gorgeous that, even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn't help myself."

This time I'd hit on the right formula. The storm clouds disappeared from over Vanessa's face.

"All right, you can come in," she relented. "But I'm still going to be mad at you for another 5 minutes, because you deserve it. I ought to give you a good spanking, that's what I ought to do."

"Yes, please, Miss," I replied.

"You're an all-around deviant, aren't you?" she said, shaking her head.

By the time my 5 minutes were up we were sharing a couple of cold beers at the kitchen table. Vanessa had changed in the meantime into a light yellow summer dress.

"Actually I wouldn't have really minded if I hadn't been writing at the time," Vanessa admitted. "I really get into the story when I'm writing and it's very frustrating to get interrupted."

"Yes, it really did look like you were getting into the story," I agreed, meaningfully.

"What do you mean?!" she asked heatedly, though I could tell from the smile on her face that she was more excited than angry now. "David. Tell me the truth. How long were you looking at me through the window?"

"Well, long enough to tell that you like to take a few breaks from your writing," I replied, trying to be tactful.

"All right, so sometimes a girl likes to play with herself," said Vanessa in mock irritation. "Any objections?"

"Well," I replied, "only that I couldn't get a very good view from where I was standing."

Vanessa can't have been very thirsty because she emptied the rest of her beer over my head.

xNovel is a site where you can download porn novels from defunct publishing houses. Be warned, a lot of the novels there are kind of gross - Nazi concentration camp stories or tales about people who love animals in a way not condoned by the RSPCA. But there are also some that make for a fun read. One of those is Jane Fox's The Peeping Neighbors. It tells the story of four couples and one single girl who live in an apartment complex. Vera Parker wants to try out on her husband Vance the sexy techniques she has learned about from her neighbour Sharon McNeal. But Vance gets called away to investigate goings on by the swimming pool. He oversees Tony Summers fucking Georgette Martin, the single girl from downstairs, in the pool enclosure. Andy McNeal is paranoid about his wife Sharon. She learns her sex techniques from books, but when she gives him a great blow job he thinks she has been practicing on some other guy. Charles "The Colonel" Kolby is frustrated because his church-going wife Gladys has told him they are now too old for sex. The only way he can get satisfaction is masturbating while peeking through a hole in the bathroom wall which lets him spy on Belinda Summers doing the same in her shower. When Sharon, annoyed by Andy's suspicions, plots with Vera to put an end to them by getting Georgette to seduce her husband so that they can catch him with his pants down, things really hot up and soon everyone is being converted, one by one, to the joys of swinging. Jane Fox writes with the explicitness one expects in a porn novel, but also a playfulness which is very appealing. The story is not very believable, with its instantaneous conversions from jealous spouse to free-wheeling swinger, but if you want social realism you're probably looking in the wrong place.

Peeping Story on the Web

Window Watcher by Irishnia

An eighteen-year-old girl is having an shower when she notices the middle-aged man next door peeking at her through the window. Feeling horny, she decides to put on a show for him.

The Creep by The Lonely Island (feat. Nicki Minaj & John Waters (these creepers are also peepers).

No comments:

Post a Comment