Blog Tour: Voyeur Eyes Only anthology, edited by D. L. King

Dazzle
by Dominic Santi

Warning: This is an explicit excerpt so please make sure you are of legal age in your country before continuing.

Sunlight. Angles. Window tinting. The overall laws of physics, especially looking down through my penthouse telescope, were not conducive to satisfying my voyeuristic propensities that bright September in Vegas. Too often during the daylight hours, the guests staying in the many hotels within my field of view were either gone playing tourist or using their rooms as transit stations for changing outfits.

My libido, however, was not taking a break just because the sun was shining. I was currently ensconced in my living room in my favorite chair, my telescope aimed at the hotel directly across from me. I was wearing my favorite gold silk robe, stroking my cock to delicious erections in the matching silk lounge pants.

Just before I took my lunch break – the house special club sandwich, along with a delightful Pilsner – I’d very much enjoyed watching the lovely young lady staying twelve floors below as she changed from a royal blue thong with silver lace into the floral print bikini in which she was currently lounging by the pool far below me. Last night, she’d worn a crotchless black lace number under her tiny black party dress. I could only dream of where she’d gone when she left her room. I couldn’t wait to see what she’d put on when she came out of the pool this afternoon. Her dresser drawer held a veritable treasure chest of jeweled glory.

Between poolside pleasures, the newly-opened spa, and the draw of the casinos, however, this afternoon’s windows were disappointingly unoccupied. I’d briefly considered moving the telescope to another room. But that felt too much like admitting defeat, which I was much too aroused to do, despite the currently only half-hard state of my cock. So I reset my visuals, fine-tuning my focus until I could see even the details of the buttons on the maids’ uniforms as they opened windows and turned-down beds.

Most of today’s action had taken place in the ever-busy storage room on the third floor. From what I could see, it had originally been designed as a guest room. However, the proximity to the massive air conditioning units in the adjacent service area appeared to have rendered the room uninhabitable to paying guests.

The employees had no such inhibitions. The boxes of paper products and cleaning supplies and the stacks of fresh bedding provided ample opportunity to design whatever furniture the participants deemed necessary for their erotic pleasure.

I’d spent a pleasant 15 minutes watching two amazingly horny dealers fucking like rabbits. She was 29 – I prided myself on knowing a person’s age with just a cursory glance. Her short-cropped dark curls and almost too-slender body bespoke someone who spent a great deal of time perfecting exactly the look she wanted. Not that I saw much of her actual flesh. She kicked off her right shoe, pulled her leg free, and with her pants dangling off her other ankle, still kissing her paramour, she let him hoist her up onto an unopened carton of toilet paper and throw himself onto her.

An erotic collection of shorts stories by best-selling authors with a central theme of voyeurism in Las Vegas.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Not anymore…

High above the Las Vegas strip, at the top of Skylane Tower, the rooms come with one special amenity; a high powered telescope. When a group of erotica writers descend on Sin City for their annual conference, the voyeurs witness first hand, that some authors live by the adage, ‘write what you know’.

A woman’s curiosity is piqued as she observes a beautiful stranger being bound in silky red rope. A man scouting for new sex slaves, watches as an elegant woman gets more than her hands dirty. A prostitute pulls a switch – sending her lover out on a call. A simple slip of the hand, causes a case of mistaken room identity and a linen closet at a nearby hotel, sees more action than all of them combined. And that is just the beginning…

They say perception is reality. Is what the Voyeur sees through their spyglass just a fantasy; on which side of the lens would you like to be?

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