I worked hard to see that

[jacksonhole]

When I was a teenager my parents went on vacation and had an 18 year old girl named Margaret who lived on our street move in and take care of me and my younger sisters while they were away. I had lusted for this girl ever since I hit puberty and discovered what lust was.

Margaret was the older sister of one of my best friends, was gorgeous and had a great body which I first noticed when we were playing a game of running bases at a neighborhood picnic. This was the late 70's, she had long blonde hair and frequently wore tube tops which were all the rage at the time.

Anyway, I was elated when my parents told us about the plans and I immediately began trying to come up with ways to see her in her underwear or (gasp) even naked. I had a week or two between finding out, and when my parents left, so I got busy.

Our house had a single bathroom upstairs on the second floor where all the bedrooms were, so I figured that was my best shot. We had a small half-bathroom in the basement, but nobody ever used it.

First, I tried squeezing myself into the cabinets under the sink figuring I could peek at her while she was showering. With a lot of work I could get myself into the cabinet enough to close the door, but it was ridiculously difficult and it seemed extremely likely that I would get caught, and would have no way to explain what I was doing if I was.

Then I looked up and noticed the fan vent in the ceiling. I grabbed a stool, climbed on it and unscrewed the screw that held the vent cover in place revealing some dusty fan blades. Didn't look like much to work with, so I replaced the vent cover and climbed down.

I put the stool back and was starting to give up my voyeur fantasy, when all of a sudden a question popped into my head. "Where does that fan blow it's air?" I realized it had to vent to the outside, but had never given it any thought before.

When my youngest sister was born, my parents converted the attic into a bedroom and I had moved up there a few years before. It was finished, but behind the walls was the original attic flooring and we used it as storage space. It suddenly occurred to me that a corner of my room, actually the the storage area where we kept our Christmas decorations, was directly over the bathroom, and that had to be where the fan vented its air.

The next time I had the house to myself, I moved a few boxes of decorations out of the storage area and climbed around with a flashlight to see what I could find. This part of the attic was totally un-finished. Wood slats over 2x4 studs. Nails sticking out of the ceiling above my head that I guessed were holding the shingles on the roof. I used a hammer claw to pry up a couple floor boards, and on my second try opened a space directly above a silver, metal box that had a metal tube coming out one side that ran towards the outside wall. Bingo!

The metal box was held in place by a connection to the exhaust tube, and was also connected to the vent cover by another screw, but that was it. I removed both of those connections and was able to just slide the fan box to the side leaving a 14" square opening in the bathroom ceiling. I looked down into the bathroom and couldn't believe the view I had. Its actually really weird to see a room that you have used your whole life from the ceiling perspective. But I immediately realized I could see every inch of the room.

To secure the vent back in place, I got some fishing line from the basement and a Lincoln Log piece from the toy chest. The Lincoln Log was just long enough to sit perpendicular across the floor studs, with the fishing line tied to the middle. I then tied the fishing line to the screw that held the vent cover in place and rotated the Lincoln Log until the vent cover was securely up against the ceiling.

I went downstairs to the bathroom to see if it was suspicious in any way. The fan still worked, or at least you could hear it when you flipped the switch, and it was only a little quieter than normal, so I figured there would be no reason to suspect anything was wrong. I even climbed up on the radiator to see if anything looked unusual, but unless you took the time to unscrew the vent cover, you really couldn't tell that anything had been changed.

I put the fan box back in place and the decorations back in storage, but didn't nail the floor board.

Flash forward a couple days. An hour after my parents left on vacation, the babysitter offered to take us to get ice cream, but I said I had a stomach ache and didn't want to go. As soon as they left I ran upstairs and reassembled my voyeur perch.

It was perfect. I could climb into this nook behind a wall in my own room, pull up a single floor board and have a clear view of the entire bathroom. The vent was on the line above the shower curtain to you could see every inch of the bathtub/shower, but also the entire bathroom, which was quite small.

For the next week I saw Margaret naked every day at least once. I watched her shower. I watched her take a bath. I watched her stand on her toes and do her eye makeup in the mirror.

I had seen more than a few Playboy magazines by then, and had gotten to 2nd base with a couple girls, but Margaret was the first girl I had seen whose nipples were basically the same color as her fair skin. She also had very blond pubic hair. To this day when I hear jokes about the Carpet matching the D****s I think about Margaret.

At the end of the week, I reassembled the fan and closed up the voyeur perch. Over the next few years I set it up again every once in a while if we had a house guest that I really wanted to get a look at, some of my sister's friends come to mind. When my parents sold the house many years later, I always wondered if someone would discover the floor board that wasn't nailed down and the lincoln log with fishing line wrapped around it, and figure out what had happened year all those years ago.

Anyway, without question, this is the most effort I have ever gone through to successfully see a particular woman naked. And it was totally worth it!

Let's hear some of your stories of really working for it.

[piecenick]

Wow, I'm impressed, did you grow up to be an engineer, architect or sex offender, or 2 out of 3? My most elaborate was to spy on the teenage girl sex door, a goddess. The subdivision was all one story ranch houses with about 4 basic floor plans, if you knew one house you knew them all. My goddess thought all the little boys were scum and never said a pleasant word to us, just eye rolls and sneers.

The houses all had one bathroom and soem had a half bath in the master bedroom, but all the bathrooms had a window that was frosted on the bottom panel and regular glass on the top panel. So you guessed it, we made a periscope on the pretext to see better at crowded Mardi Gras parades, my dad even helped me make it. These were the days when kids could run around the neighborhood until bedtime, TV was for grownups. But to catch the goddess scheduling was the problem, I, along with my buddy, finally snuck into their backyard one night and got lucky with the periscope. We got to watch her undress and take a bath. Since there was very little chance of seeing a Playboy this was our first real female nudity, it was worth all the mosquito bites.

[PuffyNips]

I used to be obsessed with voyeurism. It ruled my life. And I loved every minute of it. I lived in New York City which is a peeping Tom’s paradise. So many windows. I knew the patterns of dozens of my neighbors across the street. I knew who came home early and changed into comfy clothes. I knew who had a new boyfriend and would fuck with the shades up. And there I was, ready with my telescope. It was great. I thought nothing of all the time I wasted hoping to catch a slight glimpse of a woman naked. it was foreplay to me.

But it all came to an end. I had broken up with a long-time girlfriend. Weird isn’t it? I broke up with her and then became obsessed with seeing her naked again. One thing I knew, at night before she climbed in bed, she would go over to her bedroom window and close the curtain to block out the next morning’s sun. Sometimes she’d close the curtain before getting undressed. But other times she closed the curtain while standing there completely naked. That was the gold I was looking for.

One large obstacle, she lived in the 9th floor. I couldn’t hang out below her apartment window and look straight up. For one thing, I couldn’t really see into her window from that angle. For another thing, you can’t stand around in New York City in the late evening staring up at one particular window. You’d get arrested.

I had a different plan. I knew from her window I could see the sidewalk on the street corner a full block away. So I’d head over there every evening at about 9 pm. I’d stand on the sidewalk and casually look side to side, as if I was waiting for someone. But what I was really doing was glancing every few seconds in the distant 9th floor window. No one could accused me of peeping in a window from such a far away distance. That would be ridiculous. (I was being ridiculous.) But that’s what I was doing. I could stand out there for literally two hours waiting for the brief moment she came to the window and closed the curtain. Sometimes I’d get nothing but nightgown. But there were a number of instances, even if it was for only a few seconds, where I’d catch a long distance view of flesh. She was so far away I really couldn’t make out much of anything - a darker patch on her hips, her pubic hair. But still, to me it was the thought that counted. I knew I was seeing her naked.

You know what finally made me stop? I did this every night for months. After a while I grew tired of standing there, so I began to sit on the sidewalk. Homeless people sit on the sidewalk. But in my mind, I thought it was okay to sit on the sidewalk. People would walk by and look at me funny. I didn’t care. I was on a mission.

But one night I was sitting there. She never showed up. My mind raced. Did she have a new boyfriend? Was she at someone else’s apartment fucking him? These thoughts drove me crazy. I had to stay in my spot to see if she came home that night.

It became very late... and I ended up falling asleep, right there on the sidewalk. I woke up at sunrise. I had spent the night sleeping outside in New York City. Exactly like homeless people do. I was suddenly filled with shame and embarrassment. What the hell was I doing? This obsession had gone too far. I stopped cold turkey trying to look in her window, or anyone else’s window.