Memories of Time 8

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

As I grow older, I seem to be in a phase of forgetting the present and remembering the past. The younger I am and the more distant the events, the clearer my memories become; everything is vivid in my mind, as if it were yesterday. On the contrary, although the scenes of the spying experiences I've had in recent years flash through my mind, the recollection is never complete. I only have the most exciting impressions, but I can't clearly reconstruct the whole picture of the process.
This is also why I haven't been able to start writing this chapter for so long. After starting work, I've been to women's restrooms countless times. From confirming the safety of the environment to patiently waiting and carefully following up, vivid images of women gradually reappear in my mind: serene, elegant, exciting, shy, panicked, timid, and feisty... Looking at the women squatting with their genitals exposed through the crack under the toilet seat, whether it's a thick, shiny black forest, a dark red cleft peeking out from a tuft of hair, or neatly trimmed pubic hair and luscious labia, or even a bright, white vulva... all of this appears before my eyes like a series of videos, making me dizzy, confused, and unable to begin writing.

I've had experiences where, at night, because the restroom was dimly lit, I shone an old-fashioned flashlight under the toilet seat onto a girl. The sudden light initially puzzled her, then she turned her head, causing her to twist her hips and lower body from side to side as she searched for the light source. Finally, she bent down, raised her hips, and tilted her head to observe outside the toilet seat, eventually meeting my gaze in silence. There was no scream, I'm certain of that; she only slowly and somewhat confusedly got up. Perhaps my flashlight beam blinded her.
I've also had instances where, after work in the evening, it was just me and the girl in the stall on the entire floor. It was very quiet, except for the sounds of traffic outside the restroom window. Watching her squat quietly in front of me for so long, her full, hairy vulva and anus contracting incessantly before my eyes, I couldn't resist crumpling toilet paper into small balls and flicking them against her pubic hair, labia, and inner thighs. I heard her make a puzzled "Eh?" sound and touch her genitals with her fingers, eventually finding the small paper balls in the toilet bowl. She then realized that a man was carefully observing her defecation process from just a few dozen centimeters away from her genitals. She quickly wiped her bottom and stood up, feeling shy and nervous, without making a sound until she entered the elevator.
I also hid in the next stall. Because each stall was very narrow, I could easily reach under the toilet seat and touch a girl's genitals. After observing several girls, the last pretty one immediately lifted her body after I gently patted her buttocks, and whispered, "Who is it?" After a few seconds of silence, she squatted down again without a care. When I reached out a second time and firmly touched her slippery vaginal opening, getting my hand covered in urine, she stopped lifting her buttocks. She just stared quietly at the gap between us in the stall for a while, until I made a noise leaving the stall before squatting down again. The girl's restraint aroused my lust. When I reached out for the third time, just as I poked my hand out from under the toilet seat, the girl suddenly turned to the side, reached out and slapped my hand, whispering, "Pervert! I'm going to call for help!" and started wiping her buttocks. Only then did I leave the stall, satisfied, and hide outside to watch the pretty, shy girl leave the toilet.
I once experienced a restroom with only three stalls, all occupied by three girls. The stalls were 1.6 meters high and narrow both horizontally and vertically. Horizontally, I could easily reach the bottom of the squatting girl's buttocks from the next stall. Vertically, the squatting positions were very close to the door. In winter, when the girls wore thick clothes, if they squatted slightly forward, their entire bodies would be practically touching the door. When I squatted down and leaned over, I could see three similar young buttocks right in front of me. When I stood up and slightly tiptoed, I could see the tops of each girl's heads from above the door. The three girls had basically the same squatting posture: their hands were folded at their knees, their sleeves slightly touching the door, and their heads were all turned to the left or right. I could also hear them chatting intermittently from time to time. I tried to slowly reach my hand under the door of the innermost stall towards the girl's crotch. She didn't notice until my fingertips were almost touching her genitals, still chatting with her companions. So when I touched her from the front, from her perineum to the pubic hair on her lower abdomen, the first girl let out a sound like "Ah~" stuck in her throat. The middle girl had just asked her what was wrong when she suddenly felt the strangeness in her lower abdomen, followed by a scream of "Ha!" "What's going on with you guys?"—The last girl had just said this when my hand was already inside the door of the first stall. I quickly and decisively covered the girl's entire genitals with my palm, and stroked it in a circular motion. Then I quickly bent over and rushed out of the women's restroom.
"Ah, who touched me?"
"Me too, pervert!"
"Me too, will I get a disease?"
"Pervert!"
"These hooligans are so scary..."
...
The voices gradually faded away...
...

When I recall the past, these images always appear in my mind. I know my perverted fetish, and I enjoy hearing or seeing girls' tension and shyness when their private parts are spied on or touched. Of course, many are also angry and fierce, but as long as you escape before they can see or catch you, the girls generally won't chase you. Ten or twenty years ago, there were basically no public surveillance cameras on the floors. Even if there were security guards or cleaners, it was safe as long as you weren't caught red-handed. Some cleaning ladies even ignored me when they saw me coming out of the women's restroom. However, once I satisfied my desires, I could only give up this activity for at least a month or two. If another like-minded person came and got caught in a short period of time, it was just a matter of luck.
My understanding of voyeurism is: boldness, meticulousness, and agility. You can't linger in one spot for too long, unless you can stay in a specific stall in the men's or women's restroom waiting for a girl to come in. This would greatly reduce the number of times you're seen in that environment and effectively avoid arousing suspicion. But even then, you can't be sure if the girl going in is beautiful or unattractive. So, I usually wait in a corner outside, smoking. I don't need to stay in a spot where I can directly see the restroom entrance. Instead, I make full use of the surrounding environment, such as the changes in light reflection on the tiled walls, the floor, or even the security door, to determine if someone is going to the restroom. I can also carefully listen to footsteps; the sound of a woman's footsteps is noticeably different from a man's. Of course, in those secluded, sparsely populated public restrooms, seeing a single young woman go to the toilet is a thrilling experience for me that I can only dream of.

In 2001, I was working at a small company in the provincial capital. Near the company, at a street corner, there was a relatively large open-air square. Back then, square dancing wasn't popular, and there were no environmental inspections. Every evening, many open-air barbecue stalls would set up in the square. From six or seven o'clock, residents from the surrounding neighborhoods would gradually arrive to eat barbecue, and the stalls would usually stay open until three or four in the morning. In a secluded corner of the square, behind a row of bushes, was a public toilet. It was cleaned during the day and remained open at night. The lighting was complete, and there was water for flushing. The individual two-meter-high cubicles had a gap of about ten centimeters under the door. Overall, it was a fairly good public toilet suitable for peeping.
I would often go out around around eleven o'clock at night to see if there was a suitable opportunity to peep, and I would also grill a few skewers of barbecue while I was at it. There are many renters in the nearby residential area, and many single working men and women like me find accommodation here, so the barbecue stalls do quite well in the evenings. Usually, after 11 pm, the number of people in the square gradually decreases, leaving either people who are drunk and playing drinking games, or people getting off their night shifts, including, of course, young women.
It was a late autumn weekend evening. After work, I went to a nearby internet cafe to play Legend of Mir. I didn't plan to stay up all night, and for dinner, I just bought a fried rice at the internet cafe. After 11:30 pm, I left the internet cafe and strolled to the square to prepare some barbecue, and also to see if there was a suitable opportunity at the public restroom.
I drank a bottle of beer and leisurely ate some barbecue. Since the barbecue stall was dozens of meters away from the public restroom, some drunk men were urinating or vomiting in the flowerbeds or bushes near the stall, while it was mostly women going to the restroom. From my seat, I couldn't see the restroom directly, so I went to check twice, but unfortunately, I didn't find anyone in the women's restroom. After dawdling for over an hour, it was almost 1 AM, and I was disappointed with my wait and decided to go home to rest. Maybe the barbecue or fried rice that night wasn't right; anyway, I needed to relieve myself, so I paid the owner and ran to the public restroom.
I had only squatted down for two minutes when I heard the women's stall door close. I was secretly annoyed; I'd waited so long and no woman came, and then one appeared just as I was about to poop—what bad luck! But then I thought, maybe it's an old, ugly woman, who knows? I should just go first, that's how I consoled myself. A moment later, I vaguely heard an "ah" sound from the women's restroom, seemingly the voice of a young girl, though I wasn't sure. Nevertheless, it excited me, so I finished quickly in less than five minutes. At least in those five minutes, apart from that one sound, I didn't hear any other sounds of stall doors opening or closing; she was probably using the toilet too.
The bushes concealed me well, and apart from the light emanating from the restroom, the surrounding twenty or thirty meters were completely dark. I sneaked to the women's restroom door and peeked inside. Four of the five stall doors were open, only the second one from the inside was ajar. I felt a pang of annoyance—was the sound of the door closing just my imagination?! No, I had to go in and check.
As soon as I entered the women's restroom, I could hear even more faint, suppressed "mmm" sounds from inside. Was a woman masturbating? And I could see that the door was only slightly ajar, practically closed, and the person inside couldn't possibly see out through the crack. As I got closer, the "mmm" sounds inside became clearer, interspersed with low panting. Judging from the location of the sounds, the woman wasn't squatting; she was standing. Realizing this, I immediately crouched down, lowered my head, and tried to peek through the gap under the toilet seat.
Holy crap, what was going on? Several feet were right in front of me! Besides a pair of women's sneakers, spread wide on either side of the toilet bowl, there were also two pairs of large men's sneakers on either side of the woman! Judging by the shoes, one was behind the woman's left, and the other was squatting in front of her right.
My mind went blank for several seconds before I came to my senses, but I suddenly became interested.
I crouched down and quietly pressed myself against the slightly ajar door, peering up. I saw a man squatting with his back to me; I could only see his buttocks and back. His hands were definitely on the woman's lower body, and her jeans were pulled down to her knees. As I straightened up slightly, I saw another man in his twenties standing behind the woman. His left hand reached under her left armpit to cover her mouth, while his right hand reached under her right armpit to rub her right breast. The woman's top and bra were pulled up to her neck, her arms were limply bent and raised above her head, most of her face was buried in her clothes, and she was half-naked. Occasionally, she let out a "woo-woo" moan from her covered mouth. If it weren't for the man behind her, I think she might have collapsed to the ground.
This was the first time I had ever seen someone so brazenly molest a woman using the toilet, and I immediately felt all the blood rush to my head. I slowly straightened up, then put my index finger to my lips and gently opened the toilet door a little wider. The man standing behind the woman immediately noticed me, his hawk-like eyes fixed on me. I quickly shook my index finger to signal him to be quiet, then opened the door completely. The man, who was squatting with his back to me and fiddling with the woman's genitals, turned around in surprise, his right hand reaching into his jeans pocket behind him. I quickly squeezed into the fairly large stall, closed the door behind me, and said, "Let's go together." He paused for a moment, then turned back to continue fiddling.
I noticed that both men were very young; the younger one was probably just twenty. Their slightly curly hair and the distinctive high-altitude ruddy complexion immediately reminded me of the ethnic minorities commonly seen in the provincial capital. The man behind the woman didn't react when I came in, still staring at me menacingly for a while, but his right hand started kneading the woman's breasts again. As for the young man reaching into his pocket, I could see the shape of a knife bulging out of his jeans. The woman looked like a nightclub girl, around twenty years old. She had probably drunk some alcohol, but not to the point of being completely drunk. Her body was trembling uncontrollably, and her eyes were tightly closed. I guessed she had noticed the lawless and fierce demeanor of the two ethnic minority youths, so she could only feign timidity. She only let out a few moans when the youths grabbed her nipples and rubbed them hard, or when her lower body was being roughly manipulated.
Having dispelled their hostility, I squatted down to the right front of the girl. The youth, squatting down, had his left hand on the pubic hair of the girl's lower abdomen, while his right hand was forcefully manipulating her crotch. Because the girl's jeans and underwear were pulled down to her knees, her thighs couldn't open wide, so she appeared to be in pain from the youth's manipulation. I could tell that the youth was impatient, his technique was clumsy, and he was probably a little nervous, so I helped him pull the girl's pants down to her ankles, then pulled her left leg out of the pant leg and slung the entire pair of pants over her right leg. The girl's left leg suddenly opened slightly as her pants left her feet, then she tried to close it again, letting out another soft moan. I quickly supported her left knee and lifted her leg until it was almost at hip height. The squatting young man turned and smiled at me, then began to manipulate the girl's lower body even more vigorously. I gestured for him to support the girl's right knee with his left hand, and the girl's body slowly sank down. The young man behind her also leaned against the wall and gradually lowered his height until he was squatting behind her, while the girl, like a frog, spread her legs wide, half-squatting and half-leaning against the young man behind her, her head resting on his left shoulder, her hands still outstretched upwards.
Now I could clearly see the girl's prominent labia minora enveloping the young man's right middle finger, only the base of the finger showing. I knew it must be inserted into the girl's vagina, while the young man's thumb was haphazardly rubbing against the girl's clitoris. His left hand was behind the girl, constantly kneading her buttocks. I couldn't help but reach out and pat the girl's lower abdomen with my left hand, fiddling with her navel a few times. I used my right knee to brace against her left thigh, preventing her from closing it. Then, I covered her constantly swaying left breast with my right hand, and used my index finger and thumb to pinch and rub her already erect nipple, while using the remaining fingers to forcefully knead her breast into various shapes. The girl writhed and moaned softly under our caresses.
The young man, who was penetrating the girl's vagina, hooked his right hand and pulled it upwards, forcing the girl to thrust her lower body forward even more. I imitated him, using my left knee to brace against her right thigh, freeing my left hand to reach down and pull at her right labia minora. Watching her labia constantly shifting, I quickly pinched the left labia minora with my left hand, gently stretching it open to reveal the young man's fingers and the tender flesh inside. The young man gave me a friendly smile, which spurred me on. I then moved my right hand from the girl's breast to her buttocks. Now, we each used one hand to pull apart the girl's labia minora, making the movement of the young man's fingers inside her vagina clearly visible. Meanwhile, my right hand kept kneading the girl's buttocks, enjoying the girl's youthful body.
The girl's body slowly softened, leaning loosely against the young man's chest behind her. I switched to using my right hand to pry open her labia, while my left middle finger reached down and explored her crotch. Her anus was a little wet; at first, I thought it was her feces, but upon closer inspection, it was some slippery white discharge. I immediately realized that perhaps the girl was aroused by this lewd treatment. So, I rubbed my left middle finger against the young man's finger inserted in the girl's vagina, wetting it, and then slowly inserted my own finger into her vagina. As the girl's lower body muscles tensed, our fingers pressed tightly together, entering her vagina together, feeling her warm, soft wetness. Then we thrust our fingers in and out, occasionally pressing them to the sides to separate them, vaguely revealing the tender flesh deep inside her vagina. Just as the girl's moan began, the young man behind her viciously covered her mouth and shook her head, while his right hand, which was pressing on her breast, increased the pressure of kneading, frightening the girl into only low whimpers.
Perhaps only ten minutes or so passed, but the girl gradually lost her will to resist, resignedly relaxing all her muscles. The young man behind her took the opportunity to close his knees, pressing her buttocks against him. His left hand left her mouth, and he began kneading her breasts with both hands, letting her lean softly against him. The girl, with her knees pressed against him and her legs spread wide, her lower body pressed against the young man, her labia stretched open, revealing the tender flesh inside, allowing the two men's fingers to go in and out of her.
After playing for a while, I wanted to change things up, so I withdrew my fingers from the girl's body. But the young man seemed only interested in the girl's vagina, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of her vagina. My fingers touched the girl's anus again, still wet. I gently poked it in and immediately felt the strong contraction of that little anus, which excited me even more. I continued to slowly and firmly push my fingers in. The girl was startled and tried to lift her buttocks, trying to get her anus out of my fingers. At this moment, the fingers inserted in the girl's vagina exerted force, pressing her lower body firmly against the knees pressing against her buttocks. At the same time, we both used our hands and knees to lift the girl's thighs upward, making her feet leave the ground and her lower body open even wider, so that her entire weight was concentrated on the two fingers inserted in her two fleshy holes. Therefore, my fingers smoothly and slowly slid completely into the girl's anus. Now, my fingers and the young man's fingers could feel each other through that thin membrane. As the girl's body trembled violently, the young man behind her quickly covered the girl's mouth again. Our fingers continued to alternately thrust in and out, and the girl, unsurprisingly, tilted her head back and let out a "woo woo" moan.
For about half an hour, maybe longer, we brazenly violated the young woman's body, but none of us raped her. I understood the fundamental difference between molestation and rape. Perhaps the two young men from the ethnic minority also knew the difference. Apart from my initial statement, the three of us didn't exchange a single word, but that didn't stop us from fully satisfying our lust on the girl's body. Eventually, all six hands explored every inch of her body. One of the young men even used his sharp knife to shave off some of her pubic hair and head hair, keeping two tufts each as souvenirs.
When we laid the limp girl on the ground behind the urinal and walked out of the women's restroom, the two young men only gave me a deep look, nodded, and left the square. I carefully waited nearby, and after more than ten minutes, I saw the girl stagger out of the women's restroom and walk slowly down the street beside the square. I quietly followed her not far behind until she entered a residential area and watched her go into an apartment building before leaving.
By then, I was no longer a naive young boy. There was no surveillance footage, no rape, no physical evidence, no witnesses—I had nothing to worry about.
Only a few months later, when I visited that public restroom again, did I find that all the stalls had been replaced with open-style latrines with partitions but no doors. Perhaps these renovations indicated that what happened that night had been taken seriously by the police or the neighborhood committee.

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Memories of Time 8

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