Last April, my wife scored a promotion at her company, and to celebrate we decided to take a week’s vacation. We basically just wanted to chill for a while, so instead of an extravagant trip overseas, we chose a bed-and-breakfast not too far from home. It was a charming place owned by a sweet grandma-type with an old-school Southern accent. She showed us around the place, displaying special pride in a recently installed deck right behind the house. The spot was surrounded by trees that came up to the edge of the property. The kitchen area one floor up offered a good view of the spot.

“You could do just about anything you want out there,” she told us. “Sunbathe or whatever. It’s totally hidden from the main road.”

Rebecca and I exchanged grins. My wife has always been a voyeur. She loves watching couples go at it. Even though there was nothing to suggest other guests might use the deck for sex, neither of us was slow to pick up on the potential.

Our plans for the week definitely included a certain amount of playtime for ourselves. New places nearly always inspire us — and turn us on. But we’re always on the lookout for opportunities for voyeurism, too. We love to peep.

As our tour of the property winded down and we headed back into the living room, we noticed a couple just leaving the place. The man was already out the door, but his companion lingered in the entryway, inspecting the rack of pamphlets describing local attractions. When she heard our footsteps, she glanced up. She was a true beauty with a thick mane of black hair; she was wearing a brightly colored sundress and sunglasses. She gave us a slight smile and then quickly scurried after her man.

“Wow,” Rebecca murmured. “She’s gorgeous.”

I nodded in agreement.

Both of us had the impression we’d just spooked a lovely wild forest creature.

“Oh shoot, that was the professor and his lady friend,” our hostess told us. “They’re in the room next to yours. I wish they would have hung on and let me introduce you. They’re a very interesting couple.”

“I’m sure,” I said innocently.

The rest of the day was uneventful. After largely lazing around the house, we had dinner at a very good local restaurant then retired early after some really good sex.

But at some point in the evening, Rebecca woke me up.

“Listen,” she whispered insistently.

I was still groggy, but I focused my attention. Loud sounds were coming from the room next door, and I realized it was the sound of a woman’s laughter. It wasn’t just a few isolated giggles. The woman was in near hysterics, and there was a throaty quality to the laughter that suggested sexual abandon.

“It’s her,” Rebecca whispered. “The professor’s lady friend.” She smiled delightedly in the moonlit room. “He must be tickling her!”

“Are you sure?” I asked. But, really, there wasn’t much doubt about it. The laughter went on and on, and it was interspersed with occasional false protestations of “Please, please, not there!” and “Oh God.”

“He’s got her tied up, I’ll bet,” my wife said, rubbing up next to me and sliding her arm over my thigh. Rebecca was clearly excited by what she was hearing. “And he’s tickling her so lightly, just with his fingertips, sliding up over her belly. Or maybe he’s using a vibrator.”

As if on cue, the woman’s laughter rose in both volume and intensity.

“Oh, Trevor!” she shrieked. Whatever he was doing to her, it was plainly driving her crazy. But it sounded like a good kind of crazy.

“His name is Trevor!” Rebecca said, barely able to suppress her own giggles.

Imagining whatever we liked about what was happening next door made the situation incredibly hot. I have to admit, the thought of the professor’s beautiful friend tied up and helplessly laughing was making my dick hard. Something about the young woman’s deferential look told me she had a submissive nature.

Personally, I liked picturing the professor with a beard, which he rubbed all over the woman’s lower belly and pussy — which in my mind was shaven — making her wild with sexual abandon. Sooner or later, if I guessed right, their tickling game was going to transform into an all-out fuck-fest.

Sure enough, the woman’s laughter suddenly lowered in pitch, melting into low, rhythmic gasping.

“He’s fucking her,” Rebecca hissed. Her fingers found my hard cock and closed round it, stroking me briskly. My hips began thrusting against her hand in response as we listened to the sexual concert from next door.

When the sounds of the couple’s activities grew barely audible, I climbed atop my wife and slid my dick into her. Both of us were now in a state of almost frantic excitement, and it took us no time at all to climax. I felt Rebecca’s inner muscles clamping around my shooting cock as she came. Normally, she’s very vocal during sex, but this time she took pains to stifle her cries, biting her hand until the last tremors passed.

The next day when we came down to breakfast, we found the good professor and his friend already seated. Sure enough, Trevor had a beard. He was pleasant, if a little distant, but his companion — introduced to us as Serena — was very sweet. She and Rebecca immediately hit it off.

We had intended to go out that day and explore some of the local landmarks. But our experience from the previous night had left us aroused, and we spent most of the day in bed.

Later in the afternoon, however, things took an interesting turn.

I had gone downstairs to get some bottled water out of the fridge. I happened to glance out the window onto the deck, and what I saw there had me pulling my phone out of my robe pocket and texting Rebecca: “Get down here!”

A moment later, we were side by side at the window, spying on the professor and his girl. This time there was no doubt tickling was the object of their game, and Rebecca and I had a front-row seat.

This was the time of day our hostess went shopping, leaving her guests to their own devices. Doubtless that was why the professor had picked that hour for their outdoor fun. Perhaps they didn’t realize we were still in the house!

Serena was sprawled out on a deck chair with her arms handcuffed over her head. She was naked except for her bikini bottoms, showing off a really amazing body with caramel-colored skin. Her boobs were perfect globes, her waist slender and her legs firmly muscled. It was easy to imagine her sunbathing on a beach in the Caribbean or the south of France.

Trevor was seated beside the lower end of the chair. He was fully dressed and held one of her bare feet in his hands. He spoke to her, teasing her as he massaged her toes with both hands. Poor Serena was obviously quite ticklish. She squirmed on the chair, whimpering and occasionally bursting into peals of delicious laughter that carried to our ears through the open window. She tugged at her captive foot, but never quite managed to reclaim it. Perhaps — as Rebecca later suggested — she didn’t really want to.

After a time, he released Serena’s foot and stood over her. He touched her chin, guiding her face upward to receive a lingering kiss. Then Trevor took something from his shirt pocket and touched it to Serena’s breasts. This triggered another bout of twitches and giggles, which got steadily louder as Trevor guided the object down over her flat belly.

“It’s a feather, or a little brush or something,” Rebecca whispered, squirming against me. “Oh, I wish we were down there with them!”

Shortly after, Trevor moved away from the deck chair and undressed in a leisurely fashion. Serena watched his every move, breathing heavily all the while. Her long legs rubbed against each other. There wasn’t much doubt she was longing to be touched. I had a feeling the point of the tickling was to excite her to a near fever pitch for what came next.

A moment later Trevor — now completely naked and revealing a body as fit as Serena’s — yanked off her suit bottoms and climbed on top of her. She received him with a loud moan, her legs rising and wrapping around his middle as though afraid he might try to leave her.

“They’re fucking,” Rebecca breathed. I felt her hand groping under my robe, hunting for my cock. She stroked it slowly, further enflaming my hunger for her. “Oh my God, he’s fucking her,” my entranced wife muttered.

He certainly was. Trevor’s ass rose and fell as he penetrated Serena’s no doubt sopping wet pussy. We watched Serena’s hands clench and unclench, her toes wriggling as her hips pushed upward to meet Trevor’s thrusts.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Rebecca said. “I want some of what she’s having.”

“Not yet,” I said, touching her shoulder. I had a feeling about what was coming next, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Suddenly, Serena broke into shrill, frantic laughter, much louder than what we’d heard earlier. It rang through the trees surrounding the house.

“Trevor!” she gasped. “No, Trevor, oh please!” Despite her denials, her delight was very obvious.

“What is it?” Rebecca gasped.

“She’s coming,” I said with a grin. “And good old Trevor picked that exact moment to start tickling her again.”

Serena’s gales of near hysterical giggles took on a definite rhythm — that of a woman being fucked by her lover. The sounds varied in pitch as Trevor worked himself to his own climax. Then the two went suddenly limp, collapsing in a heap.

“Now can we go upstairs?” Rebecca asked, a little plaintively. At that moment Trevor glanced upward, scanning the house’s windows with a suspicious glare. Giggling ourselves, Rebecca and I made our escape.

I don’t suppose I have to tell you how we spent the rest of the afternoon.

The next day Trevor and Serena left, explaining they were continuing up north to meet friends. Serena and Rebecca traded goodbye kisses and phone numbers, promising to get in touch and arrange a visit later in the summer at their place in New York.

“Please do come,” Serena told us. “We would be absolutely tickled to have you.”

I have to admit, her choice of words gave me a bit of a start. But there was no mistaking Serena’s mischievous tone — or the wink she gave us as she slipped through the door.