The Joys of Voyeurism [Erotica]

Old italian erotic postcard, 1900 via Wikimedia

Old italian erotic postcard, 1900 via Wikimedia

I am happy to be on the sidelines in this moment when the man I love is making love to the woman I love equally, if differently. I want to judge my feelings, analyze them, while she just wants to be allowed to feel her feelings and express them in the moment, no judging allowed. He understands this, and though he frustrates her to her limit over and over again, he knows her real limit is not so near the surface as it seems. He finally gives her what she needs, and it is amazing to see. I feel the passion coursing through us all, and my spirit soars with theirs even as I am typing my own personal account of the scene before me. I am analytic, but also feeling. I express my feelings through the written word, need time to go over them before I know what is true, but they are no less deep for the contemplation.

He fucks the frustration right out of her, and she descends completely into pleasure’s grasp at last, after trying so hard to wait patiently, and finally losing patience, after reluctantly asking for what she needs, now she can have it, and she cannot deny she is glad she asked. His cock is so perfect for her cunt, it almost doesn’t fit when fully erect, but she opens up with arousal and the slight feel of stretch when his cock fills her makes her body succumb to him completely. His tender kisses and words that reach into the soul and caress it lovingly are amazing to watch from the outside. His powerful command of her, the way he uses her body and makes it bend to his will, the way she responds with such complete abandon, the pleasure pouring out of her like an overflowing well, my poor chafed pussy, though sore from its own earlier fulfillment, begins to pulse and drip with excitement.

The truth is, I can’t help it, I really like to watch. It turns me on beyond measure to see anyone, man or woman, giving and receiving pleasure. I don’t even need to masturbate, I could cum just from involuntary contractions. In most situations, I am afraid to look, because looking means arousal, and my arousal may be an intrusion in some cases. Because my arousal is so strong, I wait to be asked, so that I can keep my pleasure within my own moral limits. But make no mistake, I am getting pleasure too, possibly even more than her at times, just from watching.

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