Voyeur Abroad

Her labia was thick and furrowed almost to her sphincter, protruding about an inch as it uncurled from itself and in the top centre was a thrusting formation of thicker membrane. She thrust two fingers either side of it, pulled them up a bit and out popped a bright red, kernel shaped clitoris. It was as big as her undecorated fingers and she made it undulate using them. It resembled a cock very much and seemed to stun the three others as they stared; the proud? owner of the biggest clitoris I have ever seen kept looking around to make sure no other nudists were gathering.

Peppe repeated his native exclamation as Piero went to max zoom and on the14" screen there was a three times actual size of the girl's unique cunt on pause.

"That is fantastico Meester D," he pronounced.

I nodded, saying "I have heard about enlarged clits but never seen one and that is something else."

The screen went back to the group of girls, the initial surprise, no doubt lost with the usual low attention span of the youth, as they reverted to giggling, chatting, occasional glances and pointing to the cunt, discussing magazines, fiddling with smart phones, preening their hair and make-up. I was amazed none of them had taken a photo of the monster clit for social media.

The girls finally lay, the big clit was covered and they soaked up the sun while Piero's camera lingered over them and other females around, catching all sorts of lush details on slender young things and fat to obese bodies, some young some old. There was one particular sequence including the four main girls, where he focussed where the girls had turned face down for sun or reading and the skilled Italian had captured the turning sequences which were fascinating in terms of the flesh moving, but also zooming in when one had knelt up to rearrange a towel and he got some wonderful views of their arse hole, hairy or not, and it was intriguing to notice how the anal colouring round some of their bum holes was quite dramatic changing, from flesh tints to dark tones. I loved this detail.

"Can you get me a copy of this Peppe?"

"No problem Meester D. I can email to you?"

We exchanged email addresses and replayed the video and had some more beers. He was still muttering angrily about Mdm Hartog and an idea occurred.

"It would be good to get the cameras on her in the nude beach Peps," I suggested.

"They don't do it...well not so far," he reasoned.

"Maybe just round the pool here, she wouldn't be nude, but even in a swim suit it could be interesting?"

"Hmmm! Might be difficult round the pool you know....but it would be nice....ah! Not for the next two days, they are flying to Toulouse for a wedding tomorrow - er, Thursday, late afternoon," he advised.

We had another beer, watching sport on the TV as my thoughts wandered.......Eureka!!

"Can you get into their room, theyre back here on Sunday?" I asked excitedly.

"Yes, yes that is OK but...why, she not here,"

"Tomorrow after they've left, can I get in with you. To check?"

A frown roamed through Peppe, then he said that was possible, but why, she wouldn't be there, so I explained.

"I have my cameras like yours and I haven't used them yet." I told him about Maureen and my disappointment and what we could achieve with the hated Mdm Hartog. Every time her name came up he clenched his teeth and frowned. Peppe's eyes lit up.

"Yes it would work, we must try, yes yes.....that beetch"

I hadn't a clue what Thelma had planned, but luckily she had spotted a cultural excursion to Montpelier and was I interested, which of course I wasn't, so she booked herself on it quite happily. Peppe and I met at the pool when he finished his shift and he tipped me off about a signal and the Hartog's room number. Off he went and about thirty minutes later he appeared at their window of the penthouse suite. I strolled into the hotel with my bag, took the lift and sauntered along to room 501. He was watching out for me and the door swung open and locked behind me.

"Meester D, her undies are beautiful look -- the fucking beetch." Then he urged me, with a subdued tone, careful for other residents, to an open chest of drawers below the wall mirror.

"You had a look? -- wow!" I exclaimed as I viewed the colours and frills in the drawer. "How long they staying? that's a fucking lot of undies."

"Three weeks, but they travel a lot....that be-etch and her husband."

I carefully ran my hands through Rebekah's underwear, leaving nothing out of place, guessing her gimlet eyes would spot the slightest piece of lace out of place, finding knickers, thongs and panties -- even the variety stunned me, she was a thong wearer. The was a lot of suspender belts too, and two small white girdles with suspenders attached. I looked in an adjacent drawer and there was about twelve packs of high quality Aristoc and Woolford stockings including two pair of hold up stockings and even better - some fishnets. That was fascinating. My equally pervy colleague opened another drawer with an Italian flourish and there were her brassieres, some Victorias Secrets, some Stella McCartney. Multi coloured like her knickers, I checked the size and they were all 42D -- nice; she was a size 14 according to her panties, a comfortable body for a tall lady.

We checked the palatial, penthouse apartment with it's double aspect, bi-fold windows and wrap-around terrace. Magnificent views, same as our suite, just one storey higher. Two bathrooms, one for him and her, walk-in wet rooms and a mass of towels. By then I had decided where my cameras would need be placed, showing my voyeur partner, explaining clearly where and how to conceal them. I asked Peppe if Piero could get a high angle view from outdoors with his superior equipment but that was negative. I showed him how to switch on my Vehu mini cams on Sunday when they arrived back, as he would have to get in to the suite just before our targets arrived at the hotel. I instructed one in a stack of books with an overall view of the room and the other amid hotel trinkets and ornaments, close to her underwear drawers and the dressing table. Rebekah's bathroom, it was obvious out of the two, but impossible -- just no sensible nooks, crannies -- anything where even a mini cam could be hidden, especially when maids would be active.

Later, Peppe and I had a beer or three at the pool side and reviewed our plans and chatted. There was a striking, light brown woman, I chose Pakistani, Peppe chose Indian, he was correct after he checked, new on the hotel pool scene. She wore a white bikini, a tad small for her hugely ample, rest a drink on her bubble butt backside, but her mega sized tits were housed in an ethnic robe. She had great legs and a great smile. Her partner, another brown woman, was older, a little more severe and wore an ill fitting, white and pink one piece. Her boobs were very very big, and must have drooped past her waist, as would her rotund belly and Peppe reckoned he could see her camel toe and when mentioned so could I, just about, and he aimed to get a video of it somehow. There didn't appear to be any lesbian attachment.

Not many Asians tend to be tourists in naturist resorts, so this duo was rare and a magnificent sight. After Peppe checked at reservations, it worked out that they were mega rich industrialist family-wise and the men liked the golf and the ladies, apart from buying the resort out of designer clothing etc, were trying things new, being very Westernised and maybe they had said why not a naked beach resort. I would have loved to have seen them on the beach. Peppe promised me some video footage of them if they appeared on the sand.

Thelma joined me for a last relax at the pool bar after Peppe left, and we rested and surveyed the scene. She hadn't changed to a swim suit and was in loose trousers, which flapped half way up her lower legs, with the floaty top she had worn a couple of times, all laundered in house. As it was nearing the weekend, new guests were arriving and familiarising themselves with the place. The nudist scene is very popular in Germany, Russia -- I would guess more than France and they came here in droves, similar to the pain in the arse in Courcheval where they have nearly succeeded in buying the whole fucking resort and resultant exorbitant prices.

There were some stunning females of all ages and some went topless round the pool. One large group of twelve Russkis. noisily gathered loungers and chairs, spread towels on the grass and took over a huge area. One of them, a spectacular figured bottle blonde with ludicrous silicon tits, preened and posed long before she laid on a lounger. I reckoned she must have had her nipples enlarged too - they were enormous. I giggled and mentioned this to Thelma who dismissed the idea off hand, but I could see she was displeased the Russians had arrived.

"But look at that woman, sitting to her right," she whispered. "She's too fat and old to do that."

I had seen the seated topless lady in question of course, she looked about sixty at least, but again feasted my eyes on her blatant, unashamed womanly slopes which were more mountainous than foothills. Pale, pasty, flesh everywhere, spilling from her full sack of mammaries on all directions to her hips, until she lay back and they parted company with each other to end up overwhelming her armpits to rest on the canvas lounger. Her nipples were just about visible being so pale and without teat stubs.

I loved it -- Thelma didn't.

A chap with a floppy khaki sun hat, stood next to her, equally fat, his hairy belly hiding the skimpiest of black thongs as he talked to a lady standing beside him. When he turned, about three inches of hairy, arse crack slit his wobbly buttocks. The female he chatted to would be about 50. Thin but chesty, a tan evident where her pale lemon bikini didn't quite reach, with curly, grey hair and rimless glasses, chewing gum like a combine harvester. I did notice quite a prominent pussy bulge and wondered either it was bone or a mass of pubes, deciding on the former. A stunning teen, very slender girl in a minute red bikini preened and coated her white skin with sun lotion, her little finger pointing skywards with each stroke. Two girl toddlers scampered about completely naked until they were shouted at, more like bellowed for, to get plastered with lotion.

The cameras were returned to me, a day before Thelma and I were due to depart. The four young girls were trotting off to the beach and so was Peppe, again with his cameras and much winking. While we chatted I remembered the party of Russians and remembering something else, I asked him about the beach toilets and changing facilities.

"No problem Meester D, I go in my bathers, don't change and if I want the toilet I can come here, it is not far," he gestured to the bulk of the building behind us.

"No not you Peppe, but I've seen voyeur videos on the internet taken secretly in the changing cubicles, where the cameras are operated under the screens or through two way mirrors and get very good views, you can see everything and good for a wank," I added grinning and winking. "And a lot are Russian."

"Ah yes very good. The same cubicles we have here. Piero has a friend does a lot of that, you might have seen them. And the toilets are in a building, very private."

"I have seen beach toilet videos which are amazing. I mean the chap is in a chamber under where the girls piss or shit...it's clever how he and his camera don't get wet, it must be huge down there and he must be on the staff, but you can see right under the cunts when they squat and piss...."

"Yes I have seen them, it is lovely yes...when the pussy opens like a flower and they piss so strong..."

"Yes sometimes it goes everywhere and dribbles over their bums....I remember one where she wiped her cunt with her fingers and then pulled her panties on...dirty bitch," I sniggered. "I love the old women too, big slack pussies and lots of hair."

Peppe frowned and added "I don't like it when they sheet." he pulled a distasteful face. I agreed.

We agreed to send the videos to each other, once edited, which in my case would be another week and half, but we both agreed it would be worth the wait. Email addys were again checked, promises of new stuff and interesting URLs we found. Goodbyes were said, very importantly tips were paid out and Thelma and I left in the Jaguar for a three day trip to Paris, stopping at hotels each night and me hoping for a chance to use the cameras.

I did get the chance to do some up skirting in a couple of markets in Paris and also in the foyer which served as a bar in one hotel. That was very busy, the in-place for lots of office workers at the end of the day. Luckily Thelma was sparked out after our days exploring, doing the markets. She loves the flea markets and antique venues and happily lets me wander freely with my travel bag and camera.

- - - - - - -

Home, unpacked, catching up home, family, business and reading mail. Five days later the email arrived from Peppe. Thelma was busy out somewhere and I relaxed at my large screen Apple Mac computer. He had sent me more scintillating beach stuff, knowing my liking for large mature, they were nearly all Russian, ladies, but missing the Indian ladies. He added some of his pal's videos from the changing cubicles. My main interest was taken with the Hartog's suite captured on my cameras which I hadn't had enough time to view and edit but now I had all day. They were connected up and I sat back with a mouse to edit. I hate those finger pads on modern keyboards. It was a slow process as every view has to be judged for content, the cams stopped recording when there was no action, but the slightest disturbance like an arm on the lens would start it up. I had done this many times and was proficient at editing.

There was a lot of Henri Hartog wandering around, but then Rebekah decided to change from her travelling gear for dinner, or so I thought as she opened and closed drawers. Sod's law -- she gathered a few things off the dressing table and fucked off to her bathroom. She emerged about forty minutes later with a robe on, so on split screen I watched some of my other voyeur videos, while waiting. The robe hung loose from her shoulders, but naked under it and I had a full frontal vista.

Low slung, long what I would describe as narrow tits swayed and quivered as she flung off the robe. Her nipples were sturdy, dark stubs, wide and crusty looking, low on her long breasts. She did have a trim figure, but showing signs of thickening and was that the dimples of cellulite on her thighs and bum. Her pudenda was hairless and there was a neat slit. There was evidence of a crease across her lower belly just above her pussy pouch, sign of a well fed woman. I recalled finding the corsets amongst her undies. I wouldn't have thought she needed them, but a woman's mind...

She had quite a flat bum, but again a double crease below her buttocks. I remembered Peppe saying she was sixty two. He'd managed to view her passport.

There was one excellent view of Rebekah's rear as she bent low at the sofa, adjusting something on a dress and I swiftly glimpsed her cunt. She donned a brief red brassiere, which fastened at the front and it was fun to watch all the customary fiddles and adjustments, dipping into each cup and hefting both tits up to create maximum cleavage, before she was satisfied and gave the garment a finishing pat. A matching pair of high cut briefs were hitched up and she carefully adjusted the seams. The next sequence thrilled me as she selected a pair of hold up stockings and as she sat to pull them on, Henri intervened and judging by the gestures, the sound wasn't good as they had the TV on, it appeared that he was asking why not the suspenders which he was holding. She shrugged him off and he trundled away. His belly was huge but below, I could see he hadn't put any underpants on. There was a suggestion of genitals waggling about and a podgy overhanging pair of buttocks, but the camera angle foiled any detail, but I wasn't interested in him.

That view of legs rising to slide stockings up, reminded me of Ann Bancroft in that Dustin Hoffman film The Graduate, it's a classic and is one of the captivating scenes, sadly disappearing in this age of tights. She got them up and then stood to make sure they were fully stretched and straight. I didn't have a rear view to see if there were any seams, but that simple stance and twisting was a joy to watch. A sleek, scoop neck, red, cotton, mid calf length dress was next and she got Henri, now with a dress shirt on, belly protruding below, to complete the zip. She sat to apply her make-up and then put her shoes on. The Hartogs left for dinner.

- - - - - -

When they arrived back from the restaurant, I could see a slight misdirection in their gait, they'd had a few. Back in their suite, Henri took control and sprung -- no, he shuffled into life, by unceremoniously shoving his wife onto the bed. She struggled to sit up. He knelt beside her and ripped -- yes, ripped off her dress. That took some strength, but I could see it wasn't silk and they could afford as many dresses as wanted. Rebekah protested and thumped him as he flung his dinner jacket away, her hose clad legs kicked, but he merely leaned on her semi naked body, his excess weight helped and stripped away his trousers and underpants.

With some degree of agility, Henri shuffled round her head and straddled her face, her fists trying to bang his buttocks, or anywhere she could. Soon he had shifted forward, facing her feet and settled like an old chicken on the nest, but this was Rebekah's face. He leaned forward, undid the front clip of her brassiere and let it fall away, then he grabbed her flailing wrists. I guessed that his stomach which hung on her torso and the suffocating swamp of his crotch prevented the cultured business woman from struggling further as she appeared to quieten. Henri levered his flabby body upright and remained as he removed her red briefs, without any objection or obstruction.

A gentle rocking ensued as I noticed her hands swing from down by her sides to his hips with no sign of protest, then she caressed him. Henri's sad little genital collection hung limply over her chin but amazing me, I could see he was getting hard. Maybe to supplement whatever she was doing to his anus, he leaned forward and fiddled with her cunt, which increased his erection. I was stunned but fascinated. To add to my surprise Rebekah's hands roamed over his hips, buttocks and round to the grotesque mass of his belly and then up under his shirt to his chest.

Henri unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off, not without difficulty, his vest and she played sensually with his nipples which topped his excessive man boobs. This finally achieved a full and creditable stiffy and my impressions of the short fat Canadian turned more favourable. He had seemed insignificant and useless but there was obviously more to this strangely match pair than I thought.

Something attracted his attention and he grinned and waved a beckoning hand and into view strode a large man, who started to undress, throwing off a white grand dad type shirt and grey checked trousers. He was swarthy, with stubble and unruly long hair tied back in a knot, I guessed late thirties and looked familiar. Finally naked, he was pot bellied, tall and had skinny legs and when he reached a position between Rebekah's legs part facing the camera he was wanking his cock and licking his lips as Henri kept a gentle rocking motion, her hands still feeling his nipples. Mdm Hartog was unaware of this new presence and then her hands started to hit her husband as her legs were hoisted high and the man stooped and commenced eating her snatch. She had realised it wouldn't be Henri as he was still squatting on her face. Msr Hartog was now erect and bashing the bishop obviously aroused by his sex companions activities on her snatch. It was sort of strange but exciting to observe. I am not usually interested in voyuering sex in itself, much preferring the unaware, innocent activities of women, especially mature women.