Voyeur

I thought about it again yesterday afternoon – about fucking another woman while you watch. I don’t know what put it back in my head, but once it was there I couldn’t get it out. Even as the sweat-soaked shirt clung to my back, and my thighs squeezed with a weird mix of agitation and arousal, any sense of self-preservation resolutely refused to kick in.

Perhaps it’s the novelty. This is a new fantasy for me, after all. The MFF vault in my mental wank bank has always been pretty empty, and on the rare occasions I do think about sex with two women, they’re usually the ones in charge. They’re teasing and conspiratorial. Maybe even a little cruel. Not you though.

With you it would be different, in a way I find almost shockingly exciting. I want you to have zero control over what happens in front of you – this isn’t about fucking someone together (though trust me, we’ll get round to that…). I know that’s the way you want it too, but more to the point I trust you to tell me what you don’t want – the things that would spoil it for you, or turn cunt-clenching, stomach-churning lust into corrosive jealousy.

That’s important to me for reasons that go beyond simple human decency and the fact that I love you. Honestly, your lust is everything – I get hard just thinking about that shaky, desperate look on your face. When I took you from behind at the sex party, I locked eyes with another woman as she rode her partner’s cock; we stared at each other for over a minute and it was one of the hottest things that happened all night. She was a total stranger, so the idea of you studying me in that way while I fuck someone else is enough to make my breath catch and my mouth go dry.

Speaking of strangers: I don’t yet know who she’ll be, this guest star. Maybe you’ll know her, maybe you won’t. Maybe I’ll have fucked her before, and you’ll see that familiarity in the way we kiss – in her easy comfort as I run my hands over her body, or the practiced way she slides her lips down onto my cock. Whoever she is, I do know that we’ll take it slow. There’s no point rushing this, and no need to either. Great sex can be lots of things. It can be fumbling, nervous, or frantic. With the right person it can even be sloppy and drunken, let’s face it. But this will be none of those things.

Because you should see – and hear – every last detail. Each bead of sweat and low, gasping moan. Once we really get into it, my main focus will be on her, but I still want to look up and watch you dip your fingers into your cunt as I eat her out, one teasing lick at a time. Will it be what you imagined, I wonder? The arch of her back when I thrust inside her. The face she makes when she comes. It’s fascinating, the way other people fuck – all those angles and rhythms that feel both familiar and thrillingly different – but what’s it like to see a man whose body you know in intimate detail wrapped around someone else? Losing himself in her soft, eager embrace. Fucking her till she screams.

Someone taller or shorter – darker or fairer. A woman unlike you in every way…or one who seems eerily similar. To witness that connection play out on a bed in front of you, without being able to do anything more than touch yourself. How would that feel?

I don’t know the answers to any of those questions, but I want to. And I think you do too.