I admit to being a voyeur. I like to watch other people have sex. Especially if they don’t know I’m watching, or if they are oblivious to my presence. It’s a window into unguarded and personal moments when people are at their most intimate and exposed.

To introduce myself — if you haven’t read my other stories — I’m a woman, now fifty years old, long-divorced and I’m a member of the Century Club when it comes to sex partners. In other words, I’m a slut. I’m not especially attractive and my personality is pretty bland, so my sexual experience is due to taking advantage of opportunities rather than attracting men in large numbers. I flatter myself that I’m pretty good in bed.

I visited China on a tour when I was 43. I shared a hotel room with a sweet attractive 30 year old woman named Mandy. She and a handsome single man on the tour of the same age became enamored with each other. The third night of the tour — we were in Xian — my roomie broached the subject with me.

“Becky, this is embarrassing to ask, but would you mind if Randy came to the room tonight?”

“No,” answered I, not offended but a little jealous. There were no men in this group for me. A sex-less two weeks loomed ahead.

Well, Randy came to our room that night and the two of them made the earth move. The room was small and our two single beds were separated only by a small lamp table. Randy and Mandy bounced up and down on that little bed for an hour while I pretended to sleep — and secretly brought myself to a quiet climax just about the same time they did. After they finished with sex Randy departed for his own room.

That set the pattern for the next several nights. They fucked and I pretended to be asleep. I especially enjoyed watching them one night when moonlight flooded the room. They did a 69 and there was enough light for me to see his erect penis as she took him in her mouth and brought him slowly to climax. I was worried that their bed would collapse when he cummed in her mouth while her hips were bouncing up and down over his face. They paid no attention to me during their revels. When they finished he sat on the edge of the bed facing me and I could have reached out and taken his limp penis in my hand. In my pretend sleep I had loosed a button on my night dress and one of my breasts was exposed in the moonlight while I slumbered innocently. He didn’t seem to notice. My invisibility both irritated and excited me.

I’ve had many failures and frustrations in my love life, but this turned out to be one of the lucky times — for me, not for Mandy. She got sick in Changsha — deathly ill with amoebic dysentery — and she spent a night in the hospital with a needle in her arm getting re-hydrated. Randy and I visited her in the hospital that night and as we were returning to the hotel in a taxi he said. “I apologize for all the inconvenience we’ve caused you. You’re a sweetheart. And tell me,” he said after a pause, “have you really been asleep all these nights?”

I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Well,” I admitted, “I noticed that the two of you were enjoying each other.”

“You could sleep through an earthquake if you hadn’t. Thanks for putting up with us.”

“My pleasure.” And it really was.

When we got back to the room, Randy dropped a hint. “I hate to go to my room,” he said. “My roommate is a boring old man who talks too much and snores and gets up too early.”

I contemplated a minute. “There’s an empty bed in my room. I think you’re familiar with it.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” I assured him that I wouldn’t.

He came to my door an hour later. I had showered and prettied myself, including a dab of perfume behind each ear and I had (again) loosed a button on my knee-length night dress to show deep, impressive cleavage and, if I bent over just a tiny bit, a pretty pink nipple. We exchanged a friendly hug and he clung to me a touch longer than necessary, my breasts pressed against him.

I chattered as I slipped into bed, my night dress riding up to show my upper leg as I pulled the bedcovers halfway around myself. He sat on his bed and started taking off his shoes. “Do you mind if I shower?”

I didn’t. I sat in bed, propped up by pillows and read my book and made sure that my cleavage was prominent. He came out of the shower wearing only a towel and sat down on my bed. “I….uhh….,” he began. I reached forward, put an arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. It was an innocent good night kiss if he wanted it that way. He didn’t. His arm went around my waist and his lips traveled around my cheek and down my chin to my neck. I laid my book on the table and the bedcovers fell away from me. My bare leg was against his and one breast came out of the nightdress to press against his shoulder.

He gently moved me away and I had a panic-stricken moment that he was leaving. But he wasn’t. Instead he took a long look at my bare boob and finally said, “I saw your breast the other night after ….uh….Mandy and I…uh…you were sleeping and it….uh…”

This lad was inarticulate, but his lips found mine and no further chatter was necessary. I turned off the light, laid back; his towel fell off and my nightdress rode up over my stomach and we were kissing, side by side, his penis rubbing against me. I helped him pull my nightdress over my head and off. He took the initiative in giving me a very nice going over with his mouth working down from my ears to my clitoris. I was making the bedsprings sing in tune to his tongue when he asked, “Do you want to cum?”

“No,” said I. “Make it last. I want it with you inside me.” He relaxed on his back and I recovered for a moment. Then, I rolled over half on top of him and kissed and sucked him.

“Make me cum,” he said as I neared his penis. “Then, I’ll last longer when we fuck.” He didn’t have to ask me twice. My preferred technique for a blow job is to build the man to a climax with gentle licks and kisses. And when they’re ready I clamp down hard with my lips to the tip of their penis and suck the cum out of them like drinking soda through a straw. Men writhe with pleasure. Often they pull my mouth away from their penis because they can’t stand the intense spasms.

Randy relaxed for a good fifteen minutes after cumming and I was afraid that his promise to fuck was not going to be fulfilled. But he rose again — with a little help — rolled over on top of me and proceeded to pump long and hard — at least ten minutes — while I went off like the Fourth of July once, then a minute of relaxation, then again, and relax again, and finally a third time in which he joined me in a glorious finale. “Five firecrackers, out of five,” I said to myself, rating the experience.

Randy spent the night in the other bed in the room. While we sipped room-service coffee in our beds the next morning, we talked about checking Mandy out of the hospital. “This might be a little uncomfortable,” he said. “I mean you, and me, and her….uh.”

“If you’re talking about sex, you two continue just like I’m not here. I’ll enjoy watching,” I said with a laugh.

But I didn’t watch. I was tired that night and I don’t know whether Mandy felt well enough yet to have sex. And the next night I was also tired and drifted away while they were entwined with each other. Then, the trip was over. Randy and Mandy got married later — and I’ve seen them a couple of times since, but he and I have never repeated our memorable tryst. But who knows? Someday…maybe. I’ll be ready.