Like all young boys, I was interested in sex from an early age or if not actual sex, at least what girls looked like without their clothes on. It became clear to me that this was one of life’s greatest mysteries, the one thing that was always covered up. Millions of girls around the world possessed their own unique little set of secrets. It was a thought that drove me to distraction.

The question was how to get them strip down so I could have a look. I was in the fortunate position of having a big field from which to choose because I had an indispensable advantage over some of the other boys; a younger sister. She was popular too and went to a school absolutely bursting to the seams with gorgeous young specimens. Every weekend a string of girls came to spend a couple of nights but, despite my fondest fantasies, I simply could not figure out a way to get them naked.

My room, in the attic of our house, was right next to my sisters. It was there that the girls would congregate and at some point inevitably get ready for a bath or change outfits or get into their swim suits. My challenge was to somehow make the wall transparent. Eventually my mad genius rose to the occasion and I constructed a sort of U-shaped periscope with a series of mirrors that allowed me to look around corners. As a project it was at best only marginally successful but a few fleeting glances was enough to encourage me to expand the scope of my operations.

I am ashamed to say that my first real opportunity came through my brother’s girlfriend, who lived with him in one of the cottages off the main house. I wasn’t hugely particular about age and not only was she hot but she had some decidedly hippy habits, like walking around the house with very little if anything on. It was simple a case of finding the right vantage point.

I had some successes with tall trees but eventually worked out that the best possible vantage was climbing onto the roof and then hanging over the edge to get an upside down but stunningly clear view of the master bedroom. It was sweet. I spent half my life up there, like an aroused orang-utan. Most of the day was pretty good viewing as she didn’t seem to work, but come night, the real action would begin when my brother returned. A bit gross one might say but I had to learn about sex somehow.

The other cottage in the house also had a string of women staying there, giving me plenty of time to perfect my art. Not for the first time was I thankful of my ninja training. It was here that I discovered that all women are not automatically dazzling without clothes. Many of them had pretty awkward looking assets. One girl living there, who I watched stripping down as I hovered outside the window, was a classic point in case. Portly by nature, she had great melons for breasts and what looked like some forest creature in her pubic region that stretched from her belly down to her knees. I decided I would have to screen my models for quality.

Across the road from our house lived My Kerr, our Form Master, one of the scariest and most influential men at KES. His daughter, Jenny Kerr, was the hottest girl around and a good friend of my sisters. From the day I met her I was in love. As a matter of fact, she had the dubious honour of being the first girl to give me the ‘friendship’ speech, that most dreaded moment in any boy’s life. Standing beneath the sodium glow of a corner street light, she let me know where I stood and how we would be great friends but nothing more. In that moment I knew that I just had to see her naked.

The first phase of my strategy was to do a ‘ninja run’ around her property and get a lay of the land. With a friend, likewise dressed in black, we spent a night creeping around and eventually worked out that if we climbed up to the top of the high fence which hemmed in the tennis courts we could see straight into her bedroom.

It was the best movie in the world, with a different ending every show. Most endings unfortunately involved closed curtains but I never gave up. Every night around bath time I would invent an excuse to leave the house and then dart over to my nest for an hour of entertainment. I was rewarded with several tantalising glimpses as she paraded around in front of the window for a few seconds.

I sometimes got the creepy feeling that she knew that I was watching and that she secretly enjoyed it, lingering with swan like grace as she peered into the night, her towel occasionally slipping down to her waist. One day her father walked into the room and looked out the window. I got such a fright that I fell off the fence.

Things unexpectedly took a turn toward the marvellous when Jenny came to visit my sister and sleep over for the night. She kicked the night off with a bath, curiously letting me know in advance how much she loved long, luxurious, scented soaks. In minutes I was in the little shed outside the bathroom and looking up at the window, which started just above my head. With painstaking artistry and patience I piled several empty cool drink crates on top of each other and climbed onto them, grasping the bars with my hands to keep me in position.

And there it was, heaven on earth, a curvy young angel gracefully washing her satin soft breasts. In that instant, the boxes beneath me dissolved with an ear splitting series of crashing detonations. Hanging from the bars, I was powerless as she looked up and stared me straight in the face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! No, no, no, no, no! Please don’t let this be true! I let go of the bars and fell with a crash, her shrieking voice ringing through my mind. It was the single most embarrassing moment of my life, bar none, by a magnitude of ten thousand. In wild panic I ran out into the garden and simply sprinted around in circles, like a demented Maltese Poodle trying to make a bed for the night, my mind and heart filled with hot white noise. Then I ran and hid under the car, praying that it would collapse on me and kill me outright.

After a while I decided to run for my room. As I neared the kitchen I saw the whole family holding council, trying to calm Jenny down. My sister could not have looked more mortified if she had been caught herself. I opened the door without a word and ran through them, not stopping until I had locked my bedroom door behind me. Then I hid under the bed. That was the one thing I knew how to do; run and hide.

My sister’s friend! The most popular girl in school! The Form Masters daughter! Jesus Christ, I thought as my stomach did a two hundred and seventy degree reverse summersault. I was fucked, good and proper. At various points in the evening I had a combination of family members trying to get me to come out and face the music. There was no way. I would stay where I was until I was thin enough to slide through the window bars and then they would never see me again.

As things turned out she never told her father but made up for it by repeating the story to every kid at my school until my pariah status was irrevocably cemented. Every party I went to the girls would squeal in delight as they imitated me dangling from the window. It was a masterpiece of shame.

As far as my voyeuristic hobby was concerned, every impulse I had was met by the image of Jenny staring at me through that window with shock and – looked at from the perspective of age – bemusement. It was like she was looking at me saying; ‘Finally, I gotcha!’