Voyeur Abroad

I satisfied myself by lightly fingering Thelma's ring piece without attracting her displeasure, watching her long, unpainted fingernails twiddling round her clitoris and it's hood. Occasionally Thelma shoved her hand further, parting her fingers to grip my cock and sometimes nip some of her labia round my shaft. I came long before her and flopped out to sink down beside her, fondling her knockers until she tired, flipped over and masturbated herself to an overwhelming orgasm, she knew I loved to watch while I played with her teats.

"How's your back, you sexy stud husband of mine?" She snickered.

"Fine, it"s only when I swing it gives me gyp."

"We're not swinging here matey," Thelma chuckled. "I am keeping you for myself, told you that."

Hmmmm! Little did she know about minges I had minged, I mused as I kissed her and entered the shower. I could be hers exclusively for as long as necessary.

- - - - - - -

The Hartog's didn't appear for breakfast. Thelma and I chatted to a Russian couple, the man lusting after my wife's heaving bosom as she manipulated plates and stuff at the buffet. She wore a loose, filmy, hip length, white top and had left several buttons undone betraying the acres of pale, billowing tit flesh. She was, I know, feeling perky, as she always does after fucking good fucking. Her wobbly bottom was tightly mashed in white, three quarter length jeans, which revealed as always a big panty line. Her feet were in Jimmy Choo flat wedged sandals. His wife was hugely obese, not a pretty sight and with peasant like features making her plain ugly.

Thelma needed some stuff from the local pharmacy having given her Rudi's directions, so off she went and I took my usual lounger in the garden near the pool. Up strolled my new best mate Peppe, he had some news info to be spilled. Greetings were kept brief then he launched into his news

"Oh Meester D, yesterday on the beach it was fabulous. You remember I told you about the room maids...."

"Yes the black bitch and friends...."

"Yes yes, them. I have never seen them on the naturist beach before - they go to the textiles and I go nude as you know," I nodded. "Their friends must be naturists and they all came to my beach today, it was fabulous...."

"Yes yes you saw their tits, wow black girls- I love them...."

"Yes, no but yes, I saw their pussies...I work with their their fucking pussies....you know," Peppe snickered, looking around again to see if there were other hotel guests in our vicinity. "Black pussy!"

I did wonder why he was so elated about it, knowing he was a regular on the naturist beach and must have seen pussy and arse holes galore.

"I got some great views of the black -- how you call her? black bitch, and the others mamma mia! One girl, tiny tits, was on period but still was nude I saw the ...what is it...string, the other had a huge bush...you know hair...and their friend must have also been on and kept her panties on. It was fabulouso".

"That was good Peppe, I wish I had been with you," I said, somewhat disconsolately. "You can show me some photos?"

"Photos? Pah! I can do better...." he peered round the garden again and slunk down from his chair to sit on the end of my lounger. I shifted a little. "I make the vids, the videos you know, myself. I have done many, I can show you," he beamed triumphantly.

"You take a camera and video them? Fucking hell, you crazy Peppe?"

"Meester D I am not stupid, yes I video them but they do not see," he giggled. "I know how to do it, many years I do this thing, mucho practice," he chuckled tapping his big nose.

"Just be careful Peppe...."

"Meester D, it is OK. I know the beach guards."

"OK Peppe, but if those girls report you to the manager, you will lose your job," I reasoned.

"Meester D," he protested with a look as if I was crazy. "The owner, the big boss is father of my daughter's husband, he is German, a Kraut," he chuckled and winked.

I nodded, not thinking that would do him any favours if the girls were really bothered. In silence I pondered the fact he didn't know me that well and was he saying too much, but then he surprised me further.

"I show you...the vids....you know....pussy, black pussy? You like? I am your friend," his deep, dark eyes were puzzled, brow deeply furrowed, his handsome head cocked to one side.

I gulped and coughed, dying to see, but how, where, not out in the open surely, and was he trying to push his tip up further.

"Yes I would like Peppe, but where?" I gestured round, as I followed my gesture, the very empty garden. He followed my arm, shook his head and dug into his beach bag to unearth a very small camera. I was stunned, it was virtually the same as mine. Tiny and black, about two inches tall and three quarters of an inch thick and wide. I noticed a couple of extra buttons. He must have seen the mixed look of amazement, glee and recognition on my face. Next out of his bag emerged a small tablet and he plugged the camera to it with a thin cable, pushed a few buttons and with another glance round the succulent growth surrounding us he budge his butt next to mine, our bare thighs intimately together as his gnarled, mahogany coloured hand sheltered the screen from direct sunlight.

The seven inch screen was showing sand, beach, sky, umbrellas, chairs, loungers, ocean, waves and people. They were all nude as I expected, male and female, many elderly, tubby, fat, wrinkled and wobbly, but equally many of all ages, upright, shapely, toned, glamorous even kiddies playing happily amongst the throng, splashing in the shoreline ripples. It seemed Peppe had taken in the whole scene as he claimed his spot.

"Not edited yet Meester D, just watch," he murmured, handing me the tablet.

I glanced guiltily around, but we were isolated and I relaxed slightly. The screen changed to confusing flashes, out and in of focus, jumble of clothes, feet, bags, sand, distant bodies, flask, legs, bottle of wine, more bodies upside down, glasses, books mixed with sky, bodies walking, sand and hairy legs and I guessed the camera was being juggled as it's pervy owner was settling and staking his pitch. He peered over my shoulder, his garlic breath strong but normal in the South of France.

Finally it settled and four fidgeting naked young girls occupied the whole screen and my eyes widened, recognising them instantly.

"Wow Peppe, this is superb...."

He tapped my knee as I stared at the naked vision of four teenage beauties, laughing, joking, flicking hair, chatting, painting lips, swigging from water bottles, preening, coating nubile perfect bodies with sun protection. Gorgeous unblemished, firm tits, one big pair, thighs and butts bounced and quivered with each stroke of greasy hands. One bikini bottom seemed alien amongst the blatant display of firm, fresh bodies.

"Wait Meester D," he grinned. "You will see...."

I wondered what else as they bustled about naked, sitting, kneeling, crouching, flashing crotches and cute bottoms. Peppe pressed a button on the camera and fast-forwarded until it rested once they had settled to sunbathe, still active and fidgeting The camera was enveloped in a mass of hands and fingers in close-up until it stilled, clear view of the targets, then irritatingly masked by hands and fingers until it settled and remained settled.

"I put it on the blanket on the sand," he explained.

"Ah! so it's firm."

He nodded.

We both viewed the screen a few minutes, then he fast-forwarded again until the view changed and the tangle of hands and fingers dominated the view and suddenly it was a view elevated much higher and framed by two hairy side bars, but with a much better angle. Now we could see the girl's crotches, bare naked fucking crotches. The camera stayed fixed for a while then jiggled sideways showing a different array of parts of the nubile bodies, then it jiggled the other way with the same magnificent result.

"In my knees Meester D, like this," Peppe whispered, the garlic becoming overpowering such was his closeness.

He put a matchbox between his bony, hairy knees and held it there and I could see how we were getting a higher and better view right up the girls slits, through the slit of his hairy knees. It was stunning and daring -- I was transfixed as the video rolled on, showing the uninhibited actions of the four main targets. Now and then a naked pair of hairy legs would wander past, pause, then wander on. Peppe chuckled. I asked him why and he told me they were men having a close look.

"Dirty buggers," I giggled. "Pure genius," I added, patting his shoulder..

"It gets better," he replied and disconnected the two IT gadgets and put the camera to the side. He shuffled even nearer if that was possible. He fiddled with the tablet and nodded eagerly at it -- as I did. "Look I have modified it," he told me pointing to the top edge of the grey plastic rectangle.

I told him I didn't see what he meant and Peppe explained with glee and much garlic vapour, that he had changed the camera in the tablet to point forward instead of at the operator and disguised it inside a book he pretended to read while on the beach as if not interested in the naked beauty in front of him. It became very obvious to me. He had control of the little device and could zoom to a much greater level than the mini camera he'd used between his knees. The views he then achieved were spectacular.

The scene was full on the chubby white girl he had defined as one of the room maids. She lay supine. Her round knees were up and her legs were constantly opening and closing and the camera was trained on her cunt. She was slapping on protective sun lotions. The fat she was carrying roamed down to her pussy pouch, reminding me of Thelma's thick one and this one -- Doris, from Metz, he mentioned her name and home town, had much thicker and more protruding labia than my wife. Doris's cunt lips were tucked in at the top of her bulky slit, big, fat, crinkled and chunky out at the bottom. On screen there was the hardened thread of tampon string curling from her menstruating vagina. It was very white, maybe fresh for the beach, strangely sexy to see a blatant, fuck you, display of femininity out in the open like this -- she was a brave girl. Beyond her crotch and just beyond the dome of her undulating belly I could just see her tits, which weren't big, but she had puffy nipples which were mini tits in them selves, large cones, topped with buds, quite different to what I had seen anywhere. In her movements shuffling round to get the best sand level under her rug, she had collected some of the pearly, white, fine beach sand on those shaggy, full meat curtains and it looked cute.

Then I saw the black girl in a similar position as Doris. Peppe whispered this was Jade from Marseilles, a work colleague. He nudged me in a knowing way, but I was already very excited. She was sat up reading a small paperback, with her legs straight out, feet together, showing me that delicious pink pigmentation on the soles of her feet the Negroid descendants are blessed with. Certainly not a pretty girl, slim and rangy, I remember her walk through the hotel foyer as being elegant; her face was very round with a heavy forward jaw, a protruding upper lip and quite small piggy eyes. Peppe nudged me again as if to say this is good eh? She had tiny tits, what you might call bee stings and her nipples were very dark little buttons and hardly any areolae. But -- her cunt was bare, hairless and she had a bulging, smooth mons with just the top of a simple, uncomplicated, no outer lips, dark slit evident. Jade had a jewel in her navel. She giggled and glanced at the girl on her left and I could see parts of white legs, arms and a towel being moved. It would have been perfect if she had swiped her fingers through her snatch, flashing it open and displaying that very sexy pinkness as on the soles of her feet, but she didn't.

Peppe then whispered that this next couple of scenes were fucked and he replayed what we had viewed, telling me that he would have better views of the other two nubile crackers tomorrow when his compatriot Piero who was a beach guard, finished editing. When I asked, he explained that Piero was also from Naples, his longest, oldest friend and they had 'worked' this beach and hotel several years - adding a huge wink. He advised that I must see what he had captured as it was extra special.

- - - - - - -

Thelma and I went to Bezier the next day to have a lunch with Chris and Maureen, but I knew we had to be back at three to allow my wife to use SKYPE and talk to her sister Angela about something or other, so I could go and see what Peppe and his pal had in store. It was weird at lunch as I sat beside Maureen, with Chris and Thelma opposite and the stick-insect had chosen to wear a very loose, shirt/blouse thing. It was sleeveless and had enormous arm holes. The folds of the white material were substantial. Maureen wore white, skin tight denims over inch high, wedge heeled sandals, from which peeped bright red toenails -- actually very summery of course, very smart in a completely sexless way, from my point of view. She did have a very cute childlike bottom too -- no sign of VPL.

I must admit, although not being the slightest interest to me as a voyeur, except missing out on the bedroom activities, which wasn't a sad loss, but could have been revealing, the ex-school marm had the most accomplished and coloured make-up, tasteful but complimentary with a neat hairstyle, coupled with an exotic perfume, so I did enjoy the lunchtime get together. Chris was nothing but golf and football talk and I humoured him. In full flow about Rory McIlroy, he misheard his wife asking for some water, so she reached over the table, having to rise a little from her chair. I was topping up the wines at the time and there next to me was a delicious, albeit skinny, side boob view into Maureen's upper torso from her neck down to her waistband. The fucking gear was side less and I was stunned.

The shirt was so full of floating material the front portion hung vertically and when I finished the pour, I leaned back in my chair, shielding me from Thelma's bored indifference. This allowed me to enjoy for a brief moment a sight I would never have imagined. The woman had certainly enjoyed the sun in her South of France residency and parts of her torso was as tanned as her face, emphasised by the stark contrast to white below her neck and armpits. She always wore a one piece, bulky, dull material swimsuit in our pool meetings and she didn't do beach. To me, nothing compares to Thelma's tits and her pal's were hilariously laughable -- shrunken, tiny, even stretch marked paps -- but they culminated in some quite outstanding nipples. In times when I had studied her dressed persona, there wasn't the slightest indication she had any buds like those and I drank in their beauty.

Maureen's flat, bony chest sported only a large, dangling pendant, which swayed around in the cave under her shirt -- or blouse -- whatever it was. But that was not important to the sexual voyeur in me, but her glorious nipples were. Never thought I would be expressing praise in relation to what I supposed, and maybe is, a frigid looking woman, but they resembled inverted acorns. Inverted in that they were smooth, chestnut tones for about five millimetres from their growth out of her breast, ten millimetres thick then thickened and widened to crusty, ochre coloured, blunt ended caps. I had never seen similar. I wondered if Chris liked them. They were gone in seconds but I had seen them. Her scrawny, angular fore arm reached and raised her glass and the conversation rambled on. I aimed to see more of this female phenomena, but didn't.

Back in the hotel by taxi at two, it's only thirty minutes, we changed into casual sloppy clothes, Thelma deciding to sleep off her lunch in our suite and I went to my usual pool place. Twenty minutes later we had to evacuate the building - only a routine alarm test - my wife worried about her visual contact with Angela. At the contact time, she retreated to our suite and I had a brief chat with on duty Peppe telling him I would be at the pool and he stating with the usual winking and nudging, still garlic flavoured, he had some fabulouso stuff to show me. As guests were making their way back inside, a stony faced M. et Mme Hartog were stepping into the foyer from their chauffeur driven limo. Peppe swiftly stepped forward and held the door open and I went to the pool.

He arrived at my side, flustered, annoyed, in a bad temper -- not good for a concierge, but he was now off duty. Mdm Hartog had gone for him because the limo driver cocked things up route-wise, the restaurant table Peppe had reserved for them had no sea view, their table wasn't ready and they had been held up because of French lorry drivers blockade on the autoroute. As if it were all Peppe's fault.

After he calmed down he suggested we retire to his meagre apartment to view the beach videos. He had a typical staff apartment, one poky room and a bathroom for which he apologised profusely, giving me a cool Peroni then setting up the techie stuff. He kept up a constant muttering about the Hartogs and banged his fist on anything hard. Finally he settled with remote in hand, checked I had enough beer and we watched.

Initially it was re-runs of his footage, a delightful intro and then the footage he had cocked up. The screen then went into a perfect cinema mode, clear and focussed, with very little shudder and shake and from a higher level as per Peppe's lower angle. The four target girls held the whole screen and after lingering over the two Peppe had captured, vastly improved close-ups of Doris's tampon string, again with sand attached to her her lower labia and also the end of the string. The lens switched to the girl next to Jade, he didn't know her name. She looked very tanned all over and experienced and I remembered she was a regular nudist, but she wore a pale yellow bikini bottom. My pal explained that this video was the work of Piero from his elevated vantage point but with a professional video camera. Her boobs were delightful, upright, no sag, firm and lick able and very bronze. He zoomed into her crotch, the tan complimenting the yellow strip of material that hid her twat from view. The detail through the lens was astounding -- there was something odd but I couldn't nail it. Peppe nudged me excitedly.

"OK she's got her period," I muttered, dismissively as we zoomed out again, to capture the other girls interest in her groin accompanied by lots of giggling, comments and pointing, then puzzled looks as if they were questioning the girl.

"Pity we can't hear," I commented. "They seem curious about something down there, "I added.

Peppe told me he hadn't seen this footage yet, as the unknown girl laughed, giggled, gestured along with her three totally naked pals, the camera flitting from the upper torso joys of jiggling, firm young breasts and back to the particular crotch. We could see Doris laughing and rocking back in hysterical mirth and glancing down at her minge which took her attention and she flicked away the white sand that so adorned it.

Jade seemed to be a little detached, as if she had seen it all before and what was the fuss about, but still the poor girl's yellow bikini was attracting a lot of attention. They were far enough from other folk on the beach not to attract outside attention apart from the odd glance, they may have been annoyed or attracted by the happy, shrill, girlie noise.

Then -- we got the answer and it stunned me. My mature Italian buddy and I stared goggle eyed at the screen as the camera stayed with the girl. She looked around and then slowly raised her butt and eased the skimpy beach garment down, her groin raised, her lower body wriggling and then her knees went up and she eased it off her feet. She kept her hand over her twat for seconds while the others giggled and protested and suddenly emboldened, she withdrew her hand, laid back and spread her lovely legs. She sported a very neatly trimmed line of fair pubic hair, I think it's known as a landing strip, but below that was a cuntal formation totally new to me -- Peppe muttered mamma mia.