[Modern Relationship] Spying on a colleague while she's in the restroom, and then telling her.

I enjoy spying, and gradually, spying on acquaintances became my favorite pastime. Opportunities to spy on acquaintances are rare, but these experiences are the most memorable. Spying on strangers, you see them and can barely remember their faces; spying on acquaintances, even after a long time, you still remember what their private parts look like, and when you see them again, you naturally remember their private parts.

Once, I spyed on a colleague and told her.

The spying was accidental, but telling her was an opportunity I deliberately created.

That time, I was waiting in the restroom when I happened to see a former colleague come in. The restroom only had one women's stall, and there were no obstacles on the men's side, so I was overjoyed. I quickly squatted down and placed a mirror in the ditch, carefully watching her entire process of exposing her private parts. She got up, and I quickly ran outside. Because I hadn't taken my pants off, I was much faster than her. Once outside, I pretended to look into the distance. A little while later, she came out, dressed properly, and greeted me with great surprise. I believe many people have had this kind of chance encounter.

As I greeted her, I scrutinized her from head to toe, occasionally gazing exaggeratedly into the distance until she asked what I was looking at. I then looked away and casually replied, "Nothing, nothing."

She used to be my colleague, a typist in the factory office. We often ate lunch together and chatted during breaks. Later, I went to work for another company, and she lost her job when the textile factory closed. Now she runs a small printing shop nearby. After a long time apart, she invited me to her shop for a chat.

During our conversation, my unnatural behavior finally caught her attention. She kept asking why I was looking around and why I seemed distracted. At first, I covered it up with "nothing," but later, feeling the time was right, I told her I'd been spied on. I'd

practiced telling women I'd been spied on many times before, always using the same old trick. Let me briefly explain this "old trick."

To tell a woman, the first step, of course, is to peep on her, usually in a drain or toilet, and rarely in other ways. After I see it, if possible, I will try to tell her about being spied on. There are many aspects to these "conditions," the most important being the environment. The spied on was done when no one was in the men's restroom. On the one hand, without a man around, I could watch with peace of mind, focus, and remember clearly and in detail. On the other hand, since no man encountered me, even if things got out of hand, he would only believe my fabricated lie. Also, there were no other people around when I came out to wait for her. Secondly, the woman's own qualities are important. Generally, it's best to choose someone with a gentle appearance, preferably a married woman who is also an older sister-in-law (this has also been tried with younger women). The woman being spied on should have some distinctive features, such as a unique pubic area, more or less pubic hair, fuller labia majora or longer labia minora, lighter pubic color, long stretches of leukorrhea or menstrual blood, etc. The list goes on. It can also be due to the woman's unusual behavior when exposing her genitals, such as forcefully spreading her buttocks to help with defecation, which opens the vulva accordingly, shaking her buttocks vigorously to shake off excess urine after urinating, or putting on her pants without wiping her bottom, or wiping her genitals very gently and carefully, even inserting her fingers into her vagina to wipe. Also, the woman's clothing should be distinctive, such as sexy underwear, thongs, transparent ones, embroidered ones, or in the past, even menstrual belts; now, sanitary napkins, panty liners, tampons, etc. Stuffing toilet paper into the vulva is also a particular point of interest. Once given the opportunity to tell her about being spied on, these specific details often serve to both solidify her belief and exacerbate her shame.

As for the entire process of telling her, including the language used, I already had a basic design. I made slight modifications based on the specific circumstances during the actual action, but the core principles remained the same. Here, I'll give a general overview of the design, focusing on the main points and omitting some unnecessary details. Fellow enthusiasts can carefully consider and add details according to their own ideas. I've used this design many times and consider it quite successful. By "quite successful," I mean that I've almost never encountered any real danger, and most of the time I've managed to say everything I wanted to say to her. Sometimes I've said the basics, sometimes just the beginning, but as long as I've said the beginning, at least she knows she's being spied on. That's enough; letting her know is enough, and the rest is a bonus.

It's crucial to be absolutely certain that the woman I'm telling is the one I've been secretly watching. For me, seeing her and then telling her, and if I have the chance to describe what I saw to her, the feeling is even more thrilling than the act of secretly watching her. For her, only by truly being secretly watched and knowing it herself will she truly experience the feeling of shame and indignation. Extensive experience has led me to conclude that women don't actually mind being spied on by men; what they mind is others knowing they've been spied on. Telling her I've been spied on is equivalent to others knowing she's been spied on. Women also have a very unpleasant trait: they desperately want others to suffer. If the woman I'm telling clearly knows that the woman being spied on isn't her but someone else, she might "make a big fuss and announce it to the world," which would put me in danger.

I usually wait outside the restroom after secretly watching a woman. As for which woman I've been watching, it's quite easy to figure out. Sometimes, I can observe from the men's restroom and see the woman go in; other times, I judge based on the woman's clothing, especially her pants and shoes. When a woman comes out and the surrounding environment meets my requirements, I try to approach her. My most common method is to ask for directions. After she answers, I pretend to hesitate before making up my mind and say, "Be careful when you go to the restroom. I just saw a man peeping in the men's room next door." Many women don't react after this, and the conversation ends there. My goal is basically achieved: she was spied on, so she must have been in a stall where she could be spied on. Her lack of reaction means she understands and believes me, which meets my first condition above—she's just using an ostrich strategy. I find this mentality exciting.

Some women are very confused after hearing this. I hesitate again, then pretend to make up my mind before telling her more details. I tell her, "I just went into the men's room and saw several men sticking their mirrors into the drains. That way, they can see the women's lower bodies in the next stall." This way, the confused woman understands what happened to her.

Some women ask, "Why didn't you catch the peeping tom?" I say, "There were three or four of them; I was alone and didn't dare." The woman asked, "How did you know they were spying on women?" I said, "I didn't know at first. They saw me and asked me to look with them. I thought something, like a wallet, had fallen into the ditch, and I went to help, which is when I saw what was reflected in the rearview mirror." The woman asked, "Why did you tell her?" I said, "I saw her giving directions earlier, so I know she's a good person. I'm a helpful person too. I looked in the mirror to help, and telling her now is to remind her." The woman asked, "What's the point of telling her when she's already been spied on?" I said, "She's already been spied on, and I'm telling her so she can avoid being spied on again." And so on, answering whatever the woman asked, without a fixed rule. That usually ends there.

There are two types of women, and I'll talk about them in more detail. The first type of woman denies being in a sewer where she could be spied on, or even denies using the toilet altogether, saying things like "I just went in to wash my hands." I would say, "I was just trying to be helpful; it doesn't matter if she is or not. It's like 'correcting mistakes if they exist, and commending those if they don't.'" At the same time, I would describe some details I saw, such as the color of her underwear and the characteristics of her feces, but only briefly. Or I would explicitly tell her, "I could see the woman next door's pants and shoes very clearly in the mirror," meaning, "She can't deny it." The second type of woman, after I explain, shows interest in knowing the details and wants to know exactly what happened. These women are very rare, but they are the ones I most hope to encounter. In this case, I would explain in detail the principle of peeping through the drain, pretending to think as I speak, not too fluently. While describing the process, I would intersperse the scenes I saw, describing the feces more clearly than she herself. If I encountered a talkative woman, we might even drift off into a very distant topic. Of course, I would carefully manage this distance; by "distant," I mean digging out additional details of her privacy.

All of the above are based on my real experience; fellow enthusiasts, please don't doubt them.

What's even more interesting is the way some women think during our conversations. When I said I "unconsciously participated in peeping," they believed me. When I said, "The security situation is bad now, I don't dare to fight with peepers," they sympathized and agreed with my behavior, thinking it wasn't worth the danger I faced. Many times, after I peeked at her and told her, I even received a "thank you" in return. Can you imagine how interesting and exciting that moment was?

Actually, I dared to tell the women I was peeping at after careful consideration. I used reverse thinking: if I were the peeper, would I dare to say it? If I dared to say it, it meant I wasn't a peeper. That's what the women I fooled thought. I wasn't a peeper; I told her, so I was just a kind person. Faced with someone's kindness, no matter how uncomfortable you feel, it's hard to turn back. At most, you'd pretend not to understand or be indifferent, avoiding the issue. Most of the time, you'd lower your head, blush, and feign composure while secretly feeling ashamed.

In rare cases, some women tried to catch the men spying on them. Since I had already pretended to be watching intently from a distance, I excused myself by saying they had already escaped, and made a "helpful but cowardly" statement, indicating I didn't want to get involved further, and then gave up. There were also instances where I suggested they report it to the police, but the woman was unwilling to get involved, so I gave up again. The most impressive thing was watching couples. I've actually watched couples several times, but only two conversations were particularly long and in-depth. One couple: the woman went to the restroom, and the man waited outside. After she left, I went out too, followed them for a long distance, and then went up to them to tell them, even urging the husband to go back and catch the man. Of course, after their initial anger subsided, they eventually let it go. My feelings, of course, were unparalleled. The woman was spied on, the husband knew, the man who had seen his wife urinate was right in front of him, and in the end, as usual, he had to say "thank you." Tell me, what kind of feeling is that? I think that encounter with me will be a lasting memory for the couple. I just don't know if they felt excited or repressed, or if the husband felt impotent or aroused when he thought about it.

I rambled on about how to tell the woman I was spying on, and I also tried to tell my female colleague, whom I had just spied on, in a similar way. Because it's rare for me to both spy on a colleague and tell her, I still remember it very clearly. I saw a few particularly exciting things when I saw her using the toilet: she spread her buttocks with both hands, squatted for a long time but couldn't defecate, and there was clear, sticky white discharge hanging from her vulva. She wiggled her buttocks up and down and side to side until she finally got rid of the discharge. When wiping, she used two fingers to hold toilet paper between her legs and pressed them into her vulva, inserting her fingers slightly into her vaginal opening for a few seconds, about half a finger inside. She then checked the toilet paper she had used to wipe her bowels. After getting up, she put a piece of toilet paper on her crotch. If you guys don't believe me, what if the woman next door stood up, and you could still see her? It's obviously fake. Actually, when a woman stands up, her genitals are raised, and her face is also raised. At this time, you can put a mirror towards the women's restroom. As long as you control the angle, you can still safely peek. Moreover, seeing a woman's genitals with her legs together is a different kind of scenery compared to when she's squatting and her genitals are open. A woman's genitals when she's standing and when she's squatting are different sights, each with its own appeal and stimulation. You can't say which genitals are more attractive.

In her shop, we chatted, and the topic changed. I occasionally told her about what I had seen, interspersed with many unrelated remarks. However, after bringing up the topic of her being spied on in the restroom, the conversation basically revolved around this topic. Because it was a private conversation between two married people, after the initial awkwardness, the conversation gradually became more relaxed. The hardest part of talking about this kind of topic between men and women is breaking the ice. Once the topic is broken, what follows is not as unbelievable as you might imagine.

During our conversation, she told me she'd heard rumors of peeping in that toilet. I asked her, "If you knew that, why did you go?" She said, "I only knew people were peeping, but I didn't know how. This was the only toilet nearby, so I never paid attention." Her words gave me the opportunity to explain the principles of peeping. While explaining, I casually (actually, not casually, but deliberately) drew her a diagram of a drainpipe peeping site. I think most enthusiasts would recognize this diagram; I could draw it without thinking. But given the circumstances, I had to pretend, drawing and revising as I went. She knew she was being spied on after seeing this picture. To show her how clearly and subtly I saw her private parts, I used tables and chairs as props and reenacted it in her shop. I sat on one side of the table, with a wad of copy paper between my legs to represent her private parts. I had her look at it from the other side of the table with a small makeup mirror. You can imagine how conspicuous the white paper wad stood against her dark crotch. In her mind, the more conspicuous the paper wad, the more conspicuous her exposed private parts were. I was the man who saw her private parts, and now I was face to face with her. The more conspicuous her private parts were, the more clearly I saw them, and the more complicated her feelings became. That was the effect I wanted.

When she mentioned spreading her buttocks to relieve herself, she explained that it was "because of constipation, and she didn't expect anyone to be watching." I told her that spreading her buttocks also meant her labia were open, and that's exactly what she said. When she talked about the hanging vaginal discharge, she sighed about the suffering of women, saying that she put her hand into her vagina to remove as much accumulated discharge as possible. I took the opportunity to subtly mention the psychological reaction of men when they see a woman's hand inserted into her vagina. I told her I saw the white discharge hanging outside her vulva and it really reminded me of a man's penis.

Later in the conversation, the conversation became more open, and I "honestly" admitted that initially I was unconsciously peeping under someone's influence, but later, somehow, my eyes were glued to the reflection in the mirror, and I had complex feelings. Of course, while saying this, I interjected with a lot of self-justification to prove that it was just a momentary impulse and not a real voyeuristic desire. She agreed with my explanation, mentioning that her husband had also involuntarily stared at women. She even asked me, "Do you men really like to look at women's privacy that much?" I honestly admitted, "Deep down, men do have that desire." Since I acknowledged my previous thoughts and actions, I then described several details of her exposed vulva, which was the effect I was trying to achieve. As the woman described how she exposed her vagina and what it looked like, watching her blush with embarrassment as she listened, I felt immense stimulation and satisfaction. The pleasure was no less than that of having sex with her. I'm a voyeur; I enjoy this, I crave this effect.

The conversation broadened, and later she mentioned several experiences of being seen in private by men. Once, she was showering in the men's bathroom at the factory; the door wasn't locked properly, and a male colleague barged in. After being stunned, he left. Other times, she was at a gynecologist's, not exactly peeping, but the doctor always brought interns, and a group of people would surround her, staring at her vagina. She was always incredibly embarrassed. I feigned curiosity about her experiences of being seen by interns, coaxing her to reveal some details and her shy, helpless feelings.

Later, I told her, "Those men who peeped at me actually took pictures of her vagina, saying they'd make a DVD and give it to me if fate allowed." Of course, this was fabricated, and I repeatedly emphasized that I would never go back to ask them for the photos. I said this to deepen her shame. Think about it: even something as private as a baby, which is something you absolutely shouldn't let men see, is something that can be seen and forgotten. But if it's photographed, it's forever exposed to the eyes of strange men. She doesn't know which men peeped at her baby, and because the photos are kept, it means that anyone can see her baby whenever they want. Those men know her and can openly look at her anytime. In this way, she's essentially naked in front of unrelated men, with no privacy whatsoever.

I also told her that I had actually seen the voyeurism content online, but I wasn't aware of it when I went into the bathroom, so I fell for their trick and saw her private parts. Her printing shop had internet access, and I always copied my favorite websites and carried them with me just in case. I found the website and opened it on the shop's computer for her to watch. She blushed and was completely flustered. When I chatted with her face to face, I always spoke indirectly and subtly. But online posts were much more direct. These posts expressed everything I wanted to say, making her feel the details of being spied on more personally, while I secretly felt smug.

Because we were acquaintances, I couldn't remain completely uninvolved, so I suggested she call the police. I could testify for her. I knew the perpetrator had already fled, and the police wouldn't get anywhere. Like all women, she didn't want her scandal exposed. She made excuses, saying she couldn't leave the shop and would talk to the community later, promising to be more careful when using the restroom in the future. Her claim that the shop couldn't be left unattended was clearly an excuse. She locked up the shop to go to the restroom and chatted with me outside for quite a while; wasn't she afraid of being left unattended? She didn't say she'd never use that restroom again, only that she'd be more careful in the future. She implied that drainage ditch restrooms are inherently easy places for voyeurs, and that being careful would prevent it?

When we broke up, I promised not to tell anyone what happened that day. I even gave her a terrible idea: her husband could keep an eye on the men's restroom and catch the peeping Tom. She took my bad idea as a good one. I did this to let her husband know that her private parts, which she was only allowed to see, had already been seen by an unrelated man. Men care a lot about this; it's a very complicated thing. I've experienced this myself and know the feeling all too well. My

last words to her were, "I can't forget this sight. Even now, when I close my eyes, that image floats before me." What I meant by saying this was to remind her that seeing a woman's private parts isn't something you can just forget; I'll remember her private parts for a lifetime.

Her last words to me were, "You bad thing." Of course, it was said jokingly.

(Word count: 12179

) [The End]

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[Modern Relationship] Spying on a colleague while she's in the restroom, and then telling her.

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