Voyeurism

Time to stop maudlin and tell you about my latest revelation. My journey of sexual self discovery has now lead me to the conclusion, that I may have a voyeuristic personality. If you've read through my blog so far, then your sarcastic reaction may be, "Wow, quick to catch on aren't you!" I know it seems obvious now, in retrospect, given my wank fantasy, but it's taken a long time for the penny to drop. It has probably been staring me in the face for years, but not acknowledging it, may have something to do with social restrictions and stereotypes. You see, I always imagined voyeurs to be strange, someone to snigger at, peeping toms hidden in cupboards. And after reading this definition, I almost backed out of sharing my secret with you. However, I am aware that there are varying degrees of everything and not one to be easily deterred and only mildly affected by others judgemental attitudes, I though 'sod it!'. So here goes, this is the moment my penny dropped.....

The Party (yes, THAT party, but we won't go there today)

I'm upstairs in the master bedroom of a sumptuous, sprawling executive house. The room is warm, and softly lit, with sensual rhythmic, almost tribal music playing in the background. I'm sitting on a chaise long, a towel loosely tied around my waist, breasts exposed, with a half naked man on either side. The one to my right is charming, fit and attractive, and a complete contrast to the burly, bear-like man that sits at my feet. As I lie back, Mr Fit lifts his arms obligingly, allowing me to drape my bare legs across his lap. Mr Bear readjusts his position, supporting me with his woolly chest, then enfolding my body with his super masculine arms. I lie there feeling like a queen temptress, as they both caress my body, lovingly, sensually, respectfully. I feel safe, warm, adored and wanted. Even though they are aware that I don't do men, there's still an undertone of sexual tension between us, but it's steady, no boundaries are being challenged. All I need now is for someone to peel me a grape! I may be lucky enough to be the centre of their physical attention, but neither of them are really with me, they don't look at me, but instead gaze ahead into the room. This doesn't detract from my pleasure though, as I too, am mesmerised by the scene that is unfolding before us.

In the middle of the room is an oversized bed, draped in luxurious velvet throws and scattered with silk cushions. Here lies the focus of our attention, which can only be described as a banquet of naked bodies and a feast for our eyes. Nine entwined people, writhe in different states of eroticism, three ladies and six men, two of which are young athletic, black studs. Mr S is at the heart of the group, Claire (yes The Claire), a very attractive, slim, but large breasted lady, lies beneath him. I drink in the sight of his muscular carved torso, marvel at the sweeping curves that form his powerful arms and delight in the butterflies that form in my stomach, as I watch him gradually being consumed by his carnal desire. He takes one of her nipples into his mouth, encircling it with his tongue, sucking, pulling, nibbling, while caressing her taunt body with his hands. He moves them lower now, tracing a winding outline towards her pussy, he knows it well, has been there earlier.

She welcomes him by opening her legs wide, pushing his hand down towards it. He kisses her passionately as he delves between her legs, rubbing her lips, teasing her with his hesitation, then drinking in the delight on her face as his fingers enter her, fucking her rhythmically. One of the studs kneels over her head and she greedily takes him into her mouth. I watch transfixed, my pussy tingling with excitement as Mr S positions himself between her legs, then slides his thick hard cock into her swollen dripping hole. He looks directly at me, eyes heavy lidded, full of lust as he begins to thrust into her slowly and deeply.


God, that is so hot, watching your husband buried inside another woman, filling her up, thrusting long and slow, gradually building up to quick, hard movements, causing her to rise up to meet him, her hands stretching out, reaching, grabbing, for something to hold onto as her orgasm gains memento. The other stud jumps off the bed to get a blow job from another lady and instantly blocks my view of Mr S, "MOVE!", I order, completely frustrated that I might miss the crescendo. He ignores me, my frustration turns to irritation, "Would you *please* move out of the way, your blocking our view!", titters of amusement break out throughout the room. "OK, OK, I'll move!" sulkily he takes himself out of the ladies mouth and stands to the other side of her, assessing his next move. But it's too late, I have missed the moment.

The smell of sex is intoxicating now, the background music is almost inaudible, replaced only by the moans of primal pleasure. The bodies in front of me are lost in their own space, yet still interlaced with each others, every inch of their skin glistens with a mixture of sweat and juices. There is no place they'd rather be, and nor I, I have no desire to join them, but am content, just to lie here with my adorers and observe.

I think I may be a voyeur. Grape anyone?