Sex Through a Window

The usual way I get patients is either through referral by their GP, or through the patient coming for a consultation on his own initiative. I am a psychologist, specialising in sexual problems. This branch of medicine is even today regarded as being not quite respectable by some authorities, but in recent years we have made a vast headway.

The case of David D. was rather unusual. He had been referred to me after being convicted of being a voyeur — a Peeping Tom. Only by seeking medical help could he avoid a prison sentence.

As is usually the case with that particular offence, David was not the monster that had been painted by the sensational press. The Peeping Tom is, more often than not, a timid, shy creature, and David was no exception.

At our first interview he was clearly ill at ease, and was thoroughly ashamed of what he had done. In fact his self-contempt was so pronounced that I regarded it as one of the symptoms of his condition.

The facts of the case were that this was his second conviction for such an offence, and it was believed that he had been committing this offence for a number of years.

The first time he had been caught, his attentions had been focused on a nurse's home near where he lived. There had been about six reported cases of a man spying into the nurses' bedrooms (which were on the ground floor) and then he had finally been caught.

He had been put on probation, and medical reports had been asked for. I had these now in front of me, and it was clear that the cause of his problems remained a mystery. This is not unusual, because in most of these cases of sexual neurosis it is very difficult to find the root cause of the aberration.

The next conviction came because of his spying on a married couple. They had been making love in the bedroom of their bungalow. They had left their window open, but the curtains drawn. They had in fact completed intercourse, when suddenly the wife screamed. The husband, looking round, had found a head poking through the curtains, the head of a man who had clearly been watching all that had taken place.

Naked, the husband jumped from the bed and dived through the window in pursuit. He had caught David in the back garden, and had given him a thorough beating before calling the police.

The first task on hand was to find out exactly what these episodes had meant for David. I told him to tell me in his own words exactly what he had seen and what he had felt during these two episodes. Here is his account of the first.

I am going to go out tonight. Ever since I realised that big building was a nurses' home, I have wanted to go there. Tonight the compulsion is too strong, and I have to go.

I leave the house at eleven. Round about the time the nurses will be going to bed. I creep along the lane at the back of the building. It is only a question of climbing over a low wall, and then I can get right up to the windows at the back. I hope these windows are those of the nurses' bedrooms.

I climb over the wall, and soon I am at the windows. The first room is dark, and I can see nothing at all through the window. The second window leads onto a kitchen, and there is nothing there but an old woman who seems to be cleaning out a cupboard. There is nothing there to interest me. The next window is of frosted glass, and there is a light on inside, and I can see a shape moving about. This is probably a lavatory — I wish I could see in there! And then the next window.

This is what I had hoped for. It is a bedroom, and there is a pretty young nurse sitting on the bed, taking off her shoes. I feel a great surge of sexual excitement — but the next moment everything is ruined. Another girl comes into the room, and they sit on the bed talking.

Perhaps I will come back later, if I can't find anything else.

I carry on, and a few windows down, I find what I have been seeking.

It is a girl, wearing only bra and pants. She sits on her bed, taking off her tights. The curtains are drawn, but there is a tiny gap through which I look. Her hands go behind her, and she unclips the bra.

Now I have a full erection, and feverishly my hands rub over the surface of my trousers, increasing the sexual thrills which run through me.

She is facing away from me, and I can only see her bare back, but then she turns, and her naked breasts are visible. I unzip myself, and pull out my erect penis, shaking it in my hand. She stands up then, and pulls down the panties, revealing her brown pubic hair, and as she turns, the cleft of her bare bottom. She stands in front of the mirror, and looks at herself for a lingering moment. As she does so I attain my climax, and am awash with powerful sensations.

By the time she is putting on her nightdress, I have zipped myself up, and am turning away. The only evidence that I have been here is sliding down the brickwork outside her window, and by the morning it will be gone.

There is nothing particularly unusual here, and it could be the record of any Peeping Tom. But the second incident is more unusual, and offers a clue to the psychological problems that were the root of the whole neurosis. The story is picked up here at the crucial point.

. . . It was a difficult situation, because the only point at which I could have a good view was one in which I was very liable to discovery. But standing outside with the curtains drawn, I could see nothing of the couple.

Gingerly, I put out one hand, and drew aside the curtain. Now there was a small chink through which I could see. How considerate of them to leave the window open!

I could just see the lower part of their bodies. They were tightly pressed together, and I could see her bottom. His leg was between hers, and his thigh was tightly pressed against her body. As I watched, she rolled onto her back, revealing everything for me. I could see her pubic hair, plus her genitals, the penis very large and fully erect. I saw her hand coming down to grasp and caress his penis, while his hand went between her thighs.

Then I thought I heard a noise from the garden and looked round, but there was nothing.

When I returned to the window, he was just on the point of entering her. From my vantage point I saw his massive organ sliding into her body.

This was fantastic, and caring for nothing I opened the curtains a little wider and put my head inside the room. They were too far gone to notice me. Their mouths were glued together and his abdomen pumped up and down as they moved together in intercourse. I saw every plunge of him into her, heard every gasp and word of love. When they came, she cried out aloud . . .

. . . After he saw me, I ran down the garden in a thrill of excitement. As I ran my erection filled me with voluptuous feelings. When he caught me, this great naked warrior, I succumbed to what was coming, my stomach tied in knots. As the blows rained down on me I felt transported in a world of excitement, and sank down to the floor.

He kicked me as I lay there, and I heard myself groaning. The voluptuous feelings reached their peak, and suddenly I was overcome with orgasmic release. I felt my own ejaculation, heard my own cries . . .

The latter part of this episode suggests a buried homosexual element, but something made me think this was not the case. I felt that to pursue that trail would be a mistake.

Another thing that interested me was the difference between the two* episodes, which were about a year apart. In the first one he had masturbated while watching the girl undress, and had ejaculated when she had stripped naked. But in the second account there was no mention of him touching himself, and ejaculation came during the beating, after he had been caught.

It seemed unduly reckless to put his head into the room while the couple were making love.

Unless he wanted to be caught!

This was the line of enquiry I followed. I worked on the hypothesis that the second situation, and David's reaction to it, represented the growth and development of his sexual neurosis. That the second episode was nearer an 'ideal' situation for him. That the voyeurism and subsequent beating meant something special for him that was not immediately obvious.

There followed a lengthy period of analysis. Word association gave me several clues. His response to the word 'undressed' was 'certain' — his response to 'warrior' was 'father.' Gradually the picture became clear.

And then, one day, I finally broke through the wall of resistance. After that, it was easy to build up a complete picture.

As a child, David had been full of sexual curiosity. He had taken to spying on his mother while she had been undressing. This had gone on for some time and, knowing nothing about women, he had been amazed at her genital area. This curiosity about his parents became greater and greater, until, one night . . .

. . . I was lying in bed, and I knew there was something going on. I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom that I had heard before — strange and disturbing sounds. This time I was determined to find out what was going on. I crept along to their room, and silently opened the door. On their side of the room was a hanging curtain, and there was a tiny chink that enabled me to see through.

But what on earth were they doing? I saw my father's penis, erect and absolutely huge to my eyes. I saw him lift up my mother's legs, and ram this enormous thing into her. It seemed to disappear right into her body. Then out again. Then in, buried to the hilt.

My mother moaned while this was happening, but she was clearly not in pain.

They didn't seem to notice me, and so I opened the curtains a little wider.

As he plunged in and out of my mother, my mother, my father held her naked breast and squeezed it tightly. My mother writhed and grimaced as the enormous rod went in and out with a steady rhythm.

Faster and faster it all became, until the bed was shaking, and their bodies were bouncing. I saw my mother's hips rising and thrusting to meet his strokes — and then . . . My father's face contorted, and his thrusts became violent and uncoordinated. My mother's head dropped back, and she cried out, strange, frightening cries.

He looks round. And sees me. I turn to flee, but it is too late. He leaps off the bed, his penis still enormous and stiff. He hits me round the head, and I go sprawling on the floor. He kicks me as I lie there, while my mother tries to stop this violence.

By the time he is finished I am black and blue. But I don't care. I saw them doing it . . .

This incident, which had wrought terrific psychological damage, had been repressed, and David was amazed that he could have no conscious memory of it. The process of healing involves getting the conscious mind to accept the memory, and this is a painful experience.

It was so in David's case. I had to take him through the incident time and time again, and also get him to understand that it was his repressed desire for his mother which had caused this incident to have such a profound effect upon his sexual life. But eventually the day arrived when he fully accepted the experience, and completely lost the desire to peep.

The last I heard of him was when I had a letter from him saying that he was in the process of enjoying an affair with his first ever girlfriend.

It seems that in David D's case, the cure was complete.