A memory of voyeurism

It was the early 1990s, when I was still in school. Not wanting to live on campus, I used connections to find a dormitory at a company near the school. Initially, I shared a room with another employee, but he later got a girlfriend and, finding it inconvenient, moved to another dormitory. It was called a dormitory, but it was actually a five-story office building. The bottom three floors were offices, the top two were mostly empty, and the fifth floor was the dormitory. There weren't many people living there, only three or four, and they didn't live there every day. So, my former roommate easily moved to the dormitory next door, and I got a single room.
I lived on the fifth floor, and at some point, the fourth floor below me also became a dormitory. Later, I observed that the driver of the top leader moved in. Originally, the fourth floor wasn't used as a dormitory, but probably because of the leader, he moved there alone to avoid the heat. Because the fifth floor was the top floor, and the building at the time didn't have an insulation layer, the rooms on the fifth floor were extremely hot in the summer. Even though the large 1.8x2 meter window at the back and the small 1x1.5 meter window and door at the front were open for air circulation, the heat from the roof during the day made it almost impossible to sleep for the first half of the night. Air conditioning was rare then; the only way to cool down was with a fan. I didn't have a fan back then.
The guy downstairs had only been living there for a short time, and through the back window, I could occasionally hear moaning sounds from downstairs—now I know it was moaning during sex. After observing, I realized the guy downstairs often brought back a beautiful woman, and they frequently had sex in the dorm at night. Because of the heat, everyone tried to cool down through air circulation. As a young student, I didn't have anything valuable in my dorm, so I kept the doors and windows open for ventilation. The guy downstairs, needing to "do his business," would definitely keep the front doors and windows closed, and of course, the back window open. Later, after some investigation, I discovered that this guy didn't even close his doors and windows. It was a small window, the same width as the door and about 40 centimeters high. Since he was the only student in his dorm on the fourth floor, and there weren't many people on the fifth, this guy and the girl often made love without restraint, disregarding the feelings of the other guys and making a lot of noise. Late at night, I, alone upstairs, suffered greatly from these alluring sounds. I even thought about finding a girl to play with. But that's a story for later; let me tell you about my voyeurism.
After collecting, summarizing, organizing, analyzing, and scouting the location beforehand, I decided to spy on the driver and the girl making love downstairs. Whenever the driver came home alone, he would fall asleep very quickly. But when he came home with the girl, the door downstairs would always rattle a few times. I figured they were probably washing up, going to the bathroom, or maybe even cooking something.
One day, I saw that still relatively uncommon car enter the company from the corridor outside. It parked in front of the office building, and the driver and the girl got out from the driver's seat and the passenger seat respectively, and then went straight upstairs. I remained silent in the hallway until they entered. I watched their door open and close, hearing sounds of them getting and pouring water, and going to the toilet. Then I quietly went to my back window. I was barefoot, afraid the boy and girl downstairs would hear me. After hearing them remain silent at the back window, I heard those moans that stimulated my body and mind, low but incredibly alluring to my young heart. My penis involuntarily hardened. I fantasized about what they were doing. Because I had planned it carefully beforehand, and because there were probably only the three of us upstairs that day, I went barefoot down to the fourth floor. I walked around the fourth floor to make sure no one else was there, then went to their door and eavesdropped for a while. I didn't hear any other sounds, only indistinct moans and the sounds of bodies colliding. The boy never turned off the lights when he was having sex. Originally, I thought about using a mirror or something similar to reflect my reflection to spy on them, but I felt that was difficult to control and not necessarily feasible, so I decided on this other plan. At the time, I didn't understand anything, nor did I know what stage or phase they were at. I held my breath, climbed onto the windowsill on the other side of the corridor, and stood there. I tried to get as close as possible to the concrete pillar on this side, peering into my brother's room. At first, I was cautious, afraid that my brother and the girl would discover me. After a few attempts, realizing they couldn't see me, I boldly peered inside. I saw my brother completely naked, straddling the girl, his head blocking her face and view; they couldn't see me. I couldn't see the girl's expression, only my brother comfortably on top of her, moving. The girl's hands were intertwined, tightly embracing my brother... Haha, that was too exciting, I won't write more. At the time, I had no sexual experience and didn't know the pleasure it brought. Later, after I had my sexual experience here, I still felt quite aroused whenever I recalled that voyeurism.
I dared not look too long. First, I was afraid my brother and the pretty girl would see me; second, I was afraid people outside would see me. I was standing on the windowsill of the large iron window on the fourth floor. The window was one of those large, single-pane windows, about 3 meters by 3 meters, with concrete pillars on both sides. It would be easy for people outside to spot someone standing on the windowsill; third, I probably couldn't handle the stimulation. At the time, I didn't understand these things, and my fear and worry also played a part. I quickly and quietly went down to my fifth-floor apartment, continuing to endure the heat and the pain of loneliness, but I could still faintly hear those stimulating moans, which filled me with sexual fantasies.

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