Monday, October 8, 2007

Don't Look Now...

Alison Tyler



Oh, wait. I don’t mean that. What I mean is: Do look. Look at me. Right now. Oh, yes, I like when you look.

And then, stop. Wait. Turn around, and let me look at you. Why? Because I am both sides of a single fetish. Voyeur/Exhibitionist. Have been since before I knew the words to describe this slippery little turn-on. Maybe this is why my most treasured movies are Rear Window (all watching, right?) and Apartment Zero, which lets viewers into a host of different apartments, to see what other people are doing.

One of my favorite jobs was cleaning at a bed and breakfast, where I got to snoop through other people’s belongings (don’t think for a minute that maids don’t do this). I found porn, and sex toys, and Polaroids, found letters to ex-lovers, and journals nobody else was supposed to see. And I reveled in my finds like a treasure seeker on the beach who has uncovered a shiny gold coin.

I am fixated.
I want to know, see, hear everything.

Goes beyond simply being nosy, of course, because of the sexual thrill I get when I do spy a sexy bit of action, or when I honestly am put on display. But I think, truly, that everyone has a bit of this fetish inside of them. Who hasn’t stared at a couple kissing through a peripheral glance and paused, to see if something more would happen?

Yet, I understand my fetish has become a bit extreme. I take myself out to cafes in hopes of catching bits of sexy conversation. I watch all the time, everywhere I go. Hoping to spot some sight that will fill my needs. I read people's blogs, addicted to knowing what goes on in the lives of others. Luckily, my sneaky side has come in handy.

I’ve written about the fetish from both angles. Late Bloomer, in Caught Looking, featured a character who eavesdrops and watches for most of the story—who exposes herself only after the story actually ends.

Without a thought to what might happen if I got caught, I moved away from the wall, slid silently out of my bedroom, and padded quietly down the hall. As I’d expected, the door to Joe’s room was open. Only a sliver, but enough. I walked toward the open doorway as softly as I could, but I probably needn’t have bothered. They were busy, consumed by their own actions. They didn’t notice when I made my way right outside his bedroom door, positioning myself so that I could see Nina, ass upwards, and Joe, spanking her hard.

The fact that the door was ajar wasn’t too surprising. Nina was always a proud exhibitionist. At parties, she made sure to be seen kissing the cutest guy center stage, letting him put his hand up her top or down her skirt, closing her eyes as she became the pure definition of ecstasy. She didn’t think being on display made her look like a slut—she thought it made her look wanted. In demand.

Once, when we were on a double-date together at a drive-in, she actually made love in the back seat with her lucky man of the moment. I held my breath as I stared at the screen through the front window, not seeing the movie at all, captivated instead by the sultry noises coming from the back seat. First the wet sounds of Nina delivering a world-class blow job, slurping sounds punctuated by the moans of her man. Then the undeniable noises of her slipping on his lap and pumping her body until she reached her own personal Nirvana. My date stared straight forward, too, realizing from the start that he was going nowhere with me. Not that he would have wanted to. I was in head-to-toe black, hair in my face, as always. Nina was in a sunburst sundress, low in the back, low in the front.

There was nothing Nina ever found too revealing.

Good, I thought as I watched Joe’s hand make sweet contact with her sublime ass. Spank her harder. Spank her for me.


***


In Hide & Seek, my story Not a Voyeur features two people who are adamantly not voyeurs, or exhibitionists. Except, of course, when they are.

“I’m not a voyeur,” I told my boyfriend Courtney.

“I never said you were,” Courtney murmured from behind the Sports section of the newspaper. This was his favorite place to spend every Saturday morning.

“Really,” I insisted. “I’m not.”

“Why do you keep saying that, Lora?” he asked, sounding part bemused, part annoyed.

“Because of them,” I told him, my voice low.

“Them, who?”

“Those people out there. Fucking.”

Courtney set down his paper. He looked at me with his great green eyes as I pointed out the window, at the apartment across the street, and at the people in the apartment who were screwing each other silly. Without a word, Courtney stood and came to my side, so that we were both pressed against our own window, looking out.

I heard him suck in his breath as he took in the vision.

The girl was tall with blonde curls that fell past her shoulders and a tight, athletic physique. She looked like someone who never missed a workout. The man was well-built, with thick red hair cut short and several vibrant tattoos decorating his muscular arms. He had the girl in a tight embrace, and he was lifting her up and sliding her down on his cock, over and over and over.

“Oh, man,” Courtney murmured, gripping tightly onto my hand. “Just look at that.”

I felt myself getting wetter as I watched. Apparently, the vision was having a similar effect on Courtney. Not that he was getting wetter, of course, but that he was getting hard. He took my hand and placed it over the bulge in his drawstring pajamas, and I sighed when I felt the hidden treasure there that awaited me. Well, not quite so hidden. He’d completely tented the thin plaid fabric.

“How long have they been doing that?”

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I wasn’t watching. I’m not a voyeur, you know.” I managed to sound just the slightest bit indignant.

“That’s right,” he agreed, nodding. “Neither am I.”


I haven’t searched out the reason for my desire to see and be seen. I’ve left it simply as one of my (many) little fetishes. But I am not alone in embracing (or writing about) this turn-on. Check out Mathilde Madden’s Peep Show, or Hide & Seek and Caught Looking, which feature Lust Biters Shanna Germain, Gwen Masters, Dayle Dermatis, Teresa Noelle Roberts, and Portia DaCosta, as well as a host of other stellar erotic writers.

Now, fulfill my erotic fetish and confess your own sultry voyeur/exhibitionist fantasy to me. I’ll be right here, listening.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Hide & Seek is the second collection I collaborated on with the divine Rachel Kramer Bussel. To satisfy any of your voyeuristic inclinations, watch her read from the book. And comment to win a smorgasbord of erotica: Hide & Seek, Caught Looking, & Exposed, all published by Cleis Press, as well as a copy of Peep Show by award-winning author Mathilde Madden.

I always feel like
Somebody’s watching me…

—Rockwell

41 comments:

Portia Da Costa said...

Yay on the Rockwell quote! I loved that song!

I also love writing and reading about watching or being watched... and those are two great excerpts you've posted. Love 'em!

They've really whetted my appetite for the rest of the stories in Hide & Seek... :)

Just Craig said...

Great post, Alison, and some great excerpts. I too love both sides of the fence on voyeurism / exhibitionism.

My contribution is not a fantasy, but a true story.

Many, many years ago, on the eve of the day I would be joining the Army, they put me up in a motel along with a few others who were joining and some who were just in town taking some tests. I didn’t know anyone, but the guy I was rooming with and I spotted two fine young ladies in the restaurant that caught our fancy, and we gave it a shot. My roommate for the day didn’t do so well, but I hooked up with one of the girls.

While she was keen to hang out and cuddle, she was a virgin and planned to stay that way until she married. We ended up in her bed in our underwear sipping Budweiser, me talking about going into the Army the next day, and she telling me about being a witch.

Her roommate, a good friend of hers, was a witch too. But while their witch leanings were in common, their sexual experience levels were very different. Her roommate had found another man more to her liking than my roommate for the day.

The virgin witch pretended to be asleep when the other couple returned and got hot and heavy. I lay there with a nasty hard-on watching as the couple moved, covers tossed to the side of the bed, through several positions. They screwed for at least a half an hour. I just laid there and watched and wanted. I continued to sip my Bud the entire time.

One of the strangest, but strangely hottest moments I can recall.

Alison Tyler said...

Ta very much, Wendy. Your story, "Glint," is divine. Here is just a snippet:

I close my eyes and imagine the person up in the cottage watching me, eyes wide open. Whoever they are, they’re watching with longing as I caress myself or maybe as Gavin wakes up and starts to help me slather on the sun lotion. As he gets bolder, and slips off my bra top, there’s a sigh of approval from the watcher.

It's really a fantastic piece, and you were a delight to work with. (I'd get more kissy with you right now, but I'll save it until Friday, for our group-sex post!)

And Craig, mmmm. If all Budweiser commercials were that damn sexy, Bud truly would be the King of Beers.

XXX,
AT

Stacy S said...

Great excerpts! I've never watched anyone. But have to say I'm a little bit of an exhibitionist. Its pretty exciting thinking you could get caught any second.

Mathilde Madden said...

I always thought I was a voyeur and not an exhibitionist, but I did get a little thrill out of Alison's drawing attention to me in her post.

So much so that I have posted a dirty snippet of Peep Show over at my blog. Our heroine Imogen, finds the perfect spot to watch a couple of guys getting up to something hot and wet and dirty.

Jeremy Edwards said...

Not only is Caught Looking a favorite anthology of mine (I was delighted when I got the chance to excerpt the Stan Kent story as part of my LB guest blog); it was also educational for me—I really hadn't realized how much I like voyeur/exhib stories! After this epiphany, I was even inspired to write one of my own, called "Shameless Plug". (Sorry, I got the title wrong. The title is "Involuntarily.")

Anyway, Alison, how wonderful of you and Rachel to serve us another helping! You are so good to us. And the "Not a Voyeur" excerpt is such a yummy foretaste.

Congratulations, H&S editors and authors—here's (stop me if someone already did this gag) looking at you!

Madelynne Ellis said...

I've written a few voyeurism stories/scenes, including On Show in Wicked Words 8, but like Tilly I'm not so sure about the flip side. The thought of people looking at me makes me cringe. I think a mask would be essential.

Crystal Adkins said...

You know, I love that you wrote about this topic. I like to watch and wonder as well, even get some ideas sometimes. I like to know how people revel in being touched and see if it works the same way for me.
I think it is exciting to be intimate in public because you never know who is watching and getting turned on or the all time rush getting caught.
So Great topic and I'll stop back in and check out what's going on..and hopefully I'll get your books :)

Olivia Knight said...

I'm not sure that I'm an exhibitionist - attention-seeking little narcissist, maybe. I like being admired, I like heads turning when I walk down the street (I can't imagine that anyone doesn't), I carry my personal audience with me everywhere (these days it's usually a single onlooker, rather than a cast of thousands) but as for being watched in flagrante - mmm, don't think so.

The problem is with the observer - you can't control who they are or how they are watching (so an attention-seeking little narcicisstic control freak, then); what if they were watching in a vulgar lewd way instead of in a poetic, intimate way? What if I didn't like them? And if it were someone I did like enough to want them watching me having sex, why would I be having sex with someone else? (I'm not one of the group-sex-group either - gotta keep my official Lust Bites Vanilla Girl badge somehow!) When I wrote my story for Sex in Public, "Innana's Temple", I got around all those issues by having it all part of a ritual - guaranteeing that everyone would be watching in the right spirit. This all sounds bizarrely prudish and thought-policeish, but no-one wants to be an exhibitionist with Beavis and Butthead sitting on the sofa wriggling their skinny little legs going "He he - he he - I saw it too..."

Olivia Knight said...

P.S. Of course being desired is absolutely a turn-on, provided it's coming from someone with a right to be in the gene pool, so from that p.o.v., the watching eyes are a good thing:
She floated on the humming voices, feeling the ring of lust around her growing. She could smell the delicious glow on their skin and it melted the core of her. She was rocking her hips rhythmically, in time to their song. It seemed she was both feeling their gaze and at the same time she was the hungry eyes seeing her pleasure, wanting to be the one giving it, the one to fulfil it.

Alison Tyler said...

you can't control who they are or how they are watching

Actually, I like this part very much.

Who are they?
How are they watching?

*delicious little shiver*

XXX,
AT

P.S. Is the opposite of a control freak someone who is out of control?

kristina lloyd said...

Ve-ery sexy, ve-ery interesting.

I like to watch because I'm nosy. Writing porn sometimes feels like watching. You create characters then you make them fuck. It's like imagining you're watching.

On the flip side, I think I'm probably the opposite to Olivia. I think there are 2 ways of being seen. One has more in common with exhibitionism; it's about inviting specific attention - 'Hey Mr Sexy, look at me, I'm sexy too.' The other is about being forced; it's the vulgar lewd way - 'Listen up, missy*! We're going to look at you whether you like it or not.'

Um, guess which I like. I think they're both about being desired but I can merrily get off on the idea of being desired by people I don't find desirable. I might draw the line at Beavis and Butthead though.

Basically, I'm with Madelynne - cringing and wearing a mask. Yum!

*I said 'missy' to be polite. I'm having an off day. Feel free to substitute your own word.

Emerald said...

Lovely topic, lovely excerpts, lovely post, Alison. :) I myself have also been an exhibitionist since before I even knew what to call it. Voyeurism has never done it quite as much for me (though it's not something I'll generally turn down the chance to engage in, lol), but I seem to be hardly able to get enough of exhibitionism. The idea of enhancing another's sexual experience by allowing them to view mine not only turns me on but also gets to the core of why I do the work that I do. I would say that I've been stripping/doing porn/webcamming long enough that sometimes it's as though I am more comfortable naked in front of people than not, but I really think I started out that way...and just managed to find my professional niche.

Anyway, fantasy-wise, I especially like ones in which I can pretend I don't know someone is watching. I just happen to be at the pool when the maintenance crew is just outside the fence fixing something, and I just happen to decide it's time to lose my suit and go skinny dipping. And then possibly I just happen to decide to climb out, stretch out dripping wet on the pavement, and get myself off. And then -- oh, my, is that somebody over there? Has someone been watching me? Oh, goodness, look at me blush....

Yeah, I love those.

Xoxo,
Emerald

Do I wanna go out with a lion's roar?
Yeah I wanna go south and get me some more...

Cyndi Lauper "She Bop"

Jeremy Edwards said...

Not only is Caught Looking a favorite anthology of mine

Oops, that "of mine" possibly makes it sound like I had something to do with the book. I just meant "favorite . . . of mine" as in "one of my favorites."

Alison Tyler said...

You know what's funny? I don't even think of this as a fetish. Just as, you know, my life. I like to watch. Not only people doing sexy things, but people doing almost anything. I am in a state of subdued excitement when I sit at a coffee shop, pretending to read, but really soaking in the conversations of everyone around me. I am a veteran eavesdropper, a champion snoop.

Being watched, of course, is something else entirely. I appreciate Emerald's accidental exposure fantasies. Like being spied on in a hotel room from someone in the building across the way....

XXX,
AT

P.S. I'm still trying to think of something else to call Kristina.

TeresaNoelleRoberts said...

Watching is fascinating because real sex--not the kind you see in porn films--is sweaty and awkward and beautiful and the soul of the people involved shows in surprising ways. You see beauty you wouldn't expect to see (which is the theme of my Hide and Seek story, "Visual Memory.")

The pendulous curve of her belly is no less beautiful than that of her breasts; the hips I’d call “chunky” and “bony” with clothes on look glorious as they snap together and apart

As for being watched...as a rule, I'd prefer to choose a small, select audience of people I liked and trusted.

But the some-stranger-might-see (but probably won't) situation--the beach after midnight, the hotel balcony that faces out over a deserted stretch of lawn (at least deserted for now), the dark corner--is exciting. A little exhibitionism, a little risk-taking, a touch of exotic setting: all the right elements for a good time.

Sacchi Green said...

[My personal voyeuristic experineces have been largely auditory (is there a word for that variation?) but some of my characters (and thus my fantasies) fare better.

Here’s a too-long snippet of a much longer story, printed at least three times, once in BLE, and most recently in my anthology RODE HARD, PUT AWAY WET (hi, Shanna!). The protagonist reaches her limits of exhibitionism, but not before the viewers in a country-western bar in Amsterdam in the 80s get taken for a wild ride.]

From BULLRIDER, by Sacchi Green:

I set the controls on "extreme" and vaulted aboard the broad wooden back, my hat held high in the traditional free-arm gesture.
A crowd had gathered. The music was "The Devil Came Down to Georgia," and Anneke was leaning against a nearby post watching with her Mona Lisa smile. When my wooden mount slowed to a stop and the room held still, I tossed my hat toward her. She caught it deftly and allowed her smile to widen. Then I shifted my ass backward to make room and held out a hand to her. With no hesitation she let me pull her up to straddle the bull.
Someone, maybe Margaretha, put more money in the machine and set it on "easy"; the music changed to "Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places"; and I was in the kind of trouble worth dreaming about.
Riding without stirrups can be an erotic experience all by itself. Riding with Anneke's ass pressed into me, kneading my crotch with every heave of the bull, was sublime torture. Her slim back against my breasts made them demand a whole lot more of my attention than they usually get, while her own luscious breasts...I nuzzled my face against her neck and gazed over her shoulder at the rounded flesh gently bouncing and threatening to surge out of the low neckline. From my vantage point, glimpses of tender pink nipple came and went. Much as I wanted more, I didn't necessarily want to share.
"Your décolletage is slipping," I whispered into her ear. Instead of adjusting it, she turned her head so her smooth cheek curved against my lips.
"Help me, Toby," she murmured. "Hold me." And I was lost.
I cupped her breasts, gently at first, as the motion of the bull made them rise and fall and thrust against their thin gingham covering. Then I felt her back arch slightly, and her flesh press more demandingly into my hands. There was no way I could help moving my fingers across her firming nipples. I felt her soft gasp all the way down to my toes.
Her ass began to move against me independent of the bull's motion. My clit felt like it was trying to scorch a passage through my Levis. My grip on her breasts tightened, and her nipples hardened and pulsed against my fingers as she leaned her head against my shoulder. "Toby," she breathed, "You are making me so sore!"
"Want me to stop?" I teased her tender earlobe with my teeth.
"No...don't stop...make me sorer still, please, Toby...."
How could I refuse? I unbuttoned her blouse at the waist and slid my hands across her silky belly before filling them with the even silkier flesh of her breasts. Then I drove her to as much sweet, sore engorgement as hands alone could provide. My hungry mouth made do with the soft hollows and curves of her neck and shoulders, feeling the nearly soundless moans she couldn't suppress vibrate directly from her body into mine. Her pale hair was coming loose from its intricate chignon, so I pulled out the fastenings with my teeth and let the golden curtain fall across the marks my mouth left on her skin. Her hair gave off a faint, clean scent of herbs and roses.
I hadn't forgotten our audience, but I was beyond caring. During my first wild ride there'd been whoops and cheering, but when Anneke joined me the sounds had dwindled to a low hum, an almost communal moan. Somebody put more coins in the machine, and "Looking for Love In All the Wrong Places" played on.
My problem was the accelerating need to get right down to it in ways even permissive Amsterdam couldn't handle. Or, if it could, I couldn't.
"We have to get out of here," I growled against Anneke's cheek. She gave a slight nod.
"Soon," she said, with a shuddering sigh. "Help me turn." I admired her flair for showmanship as she swung one leg over the pommel, poised briefly in sidesaddle position, twisted so that her hands could brace against my shoulders, and pushed herself up and over until she was facing me astride.
Okay. A little more for the paying customers. Just a little. My hat, now upside down on the floor, had become a target for a fair number of coins and bills.
I urged Anneke's legs up over my thighs and got a firm grip on her waist. She leaned her head back as I savagely pressed my mouth into the hollow of her throat and let anger flicker through desire. New to this, was she? New to what? Performing with a woman? What had she done here with men?
My mouth moved down and Anneke leaned farther back, both of us as balanced as if our moves had been choreographed and rehearsed a hundred times. I tore at her shirt with my teeth until the buttons let go and I could get at her arched belly. A collective sigh rose from the audience as the fabric slid aside to leave her round breasts and jutting, rose-pink nipples naked. I knew what they wanted, but there was only just so much I could share.
She lay so far back now that her legs were around my hips and only my grip kept her upper body from sliding off the gently heaving bull. I probed my tongue into the ivory rosebud whorl of her navel as her thighs tightened and jerked.
My clit jerked too. I ran my mouth down to the waistband of her shorts and then over the zipper, biting down gently just where the seam pressed against her clit. The fabric was wet and getting wetter. Our musk rose like a tangible cloud, mixed with the scent of roses and the earthy reek of the stables.
I bit down harder, tugged at the thick seam, pressed it into her, and knew by the spasmodic thrusts of her hips I could make her come right now, right here. And knew I wasn't going to.
I may have a streak of exhibitionism wide as the Montana sky, but some desires are too deep, too intense, too close to the limits of self-control for any but private performance. I pulled Anneke upright and kissed her long and hard, letting her feel the sharpness of my teeth. "There's an old show-biz saying," I said against her mouth, my voice harsher than intended. "Always leave 'em wanting more."
I swung us both to the floor and stood, still holding her in my arms, until the ground stopped heaving under my feet. Her legs tightened around my waist, and so did her arms around my neck, reminding me, for all the enticing tenderness of her flesh, that she was a world-class athlete. The dazed look in her blue eyes retreated slightly. "But Toby, what if I want more?"
"You'd damned well better want more. You're going to get it. But not here." I started toward the door, not knowing where I was going. Hands reached out as we passed, some just stroking us, some stuffing money into my jeans.
Margaretha called out; Anneke turned, laughed, and caught the big old-fashioned key spinning toward her through the air. She shouted something in Dutch, and thrust the cold iron down inside the waistband of my BVD's. It slid, of course, much lower, producing new and interesting sensations as we ran hand-in-hand through the Amsterdam night.

t'Sade said...

Oh, very yummy little snippet there. Specially that last one.

Smut Girl said...

**I am in a state of subdued excitement when I sit at a coffee shop, pretending to read, but really soaking in the conversations of everyone around me. I am a veteran eavesdropper, a champion snoop.**

I have a medal for eavesdropping! :) I am both. I love both. Whatever. I like to watch, snoop, poke around (pun sort of intended) and I like the idea of being watched. And I remember it happening. Does it count if you're not supposed to know you're being watched but you do and it's an accident but...you let it continue...hmmm? What category does that fall into?

Either way, lovely post. I liked both sides (big surprise) and wowza, Craig, I love your bedtime stories. That is a v. nice story ;) I think you might have a story in that story...
xoxo
sommer
p.s. my word is drkkwub...am I the only one who thinks that sounds a little dirty?

Alison Tyler said...

am I the only one who thinks that sounds a little dirty?

Yes.

Kate Pearce said...

I've never thought about myself as being a voyeur but I think I am...aren't all writer4s a bit like that?
lovely post Alison!

TeresaNoelleRoberts said...

Sacchi, Sacchi, Sacchi, here I am checking in quickly before going out to run some errands, all clean and disarmingly proper and in my brand-new boots...

And you posted a bit from that story. I've heard you read from it before and it just makes me melt.

Oh well, an erotica writer's mind's supposed to be in the gutter, right? You're just helping me do my job.

Sacchi Green said...

Thanks, Teresa! Now I feel like I've accomplished something today!

But I also realize that I went a bit overboard in posting something that long, and I promise to do a better job of trimming in the future.

(Let's see, where has shiny, shiny knife gone?)

rachelr said...

Great excerpt! I love the idea of sex where you might get caught(the swimming pool after closing, the hotel balcony, etc), and I like to see others in a tender moment. I'm not sure I really want to see another couple having sex, but it is the stuff of great fantasies!

Anonymous said...

Wonderful excerpts, Alison & All,

Listening is almost as good as watching. One time, stuck in an airport, I happened to be sitting next to a couple who were talking about their affair. Their conversation was more interesting than the work I was supposed to be doing on my laptop, so I listened in.

Then, when they got up to stroll through the airport--this was in the "freedom era" before terrorism made airports less interesting--I followed them.

Although their sex talk provided the initial come-on, eventually I found myself more enthralled by the woman's constant putting down of the man's wife: "She makes you pack your own suitcase?!" "She ran out of your favorite cereal?!"

If the woman had been a character in a TV show, I would have said she was "too much." But her lover seemed happy to be with a woman who really understood him and his NEEDS.

I don't know: Does spying on non-sexual conversation qualify as voyeurism? If not, Alison you have my permission to hit the delete key.

IH

tetewa said...

Enjoyed the excerpt today and would love to be a peeper!

Gwen Masters said...

I've always loved reading, and writing, stories of people being watched. I've never really gotten into the watching part so much as the exhibitionism...I love the feeling of being so open, the thought of being wanted by someone other than the man I'm with.

Great collections, Alison, as always!

Alison Tyler said...

Hi IH,

I love stories like that. I am always hoping to hear that type of gossip as I quietly pretend to read. Of course, I also like to imagine other people listening in while I talk to my friends...

And Saachi, I think Janine might have your knife. Or maybe I've mistaken it for a sword.

XXX,
AT

Ally said...

Awesome post Alison, I Also enjoyed everyones snippets.

I think I first developed a taste for watching when I was 18. My first job serving liquor was a cocktail server in a strip club for men. Back then you would only see men watching the dancers, so I found it arousing to watch them watching the women. I love catching men in public with their spouses who can't help themselves and they turn around to watch a sweet ass go by, and then laugh my ass off when the wife smacks him. When ever my man turned his head to look at another woman I always just asked him, "Can you pretend I am her tonight?" and if I wasn't getting enough I would drop him off at the strip club and tell him don't come home until you can bring me a woody.

Although I never had too many chances to really watch up close, I have observed and admired from afar. People in the park who thought they were hidden behind a tree or under a blanket at the beach. Yet I have a distaste for shitty porn, I find them too scripted, fake and poorly made.

I've been caught plenty of times, my favorite was in a pool at around 4am in some strangers back yard. It was funny, he didn't yell at us and tell us to get lost when he watched my head disappear under the water, he didn't make us leave until all was said and done.

I'm a lot like you Alison when it comes to observation, listening when you are supposed to be reading or working on something. I also feel voyeuristic reading your blogs and others on my favorites.

I like to sneak a peek at anything and anyone, I love watching lovers in public daring each other just for a small indiscrete fondle. In fact my husband used to get real mad when I would fondle him in public, but I was always daring and wanted everyone to see he was mine. He would get so embarrassed. He began to like it after awhile and would cop a feel himself, but to his embarrassment I would just bend over more and beg "Do it again." with a big grin.

I agree with Kate. Writing what we write also feels like being a voyeur and an exebitionist all in one wonderful package. Even I go back to what I've written, because I know what turns me on and I like to watch my dirty mind.

Here is my contribution to the snippets.
I wrote this poem to fulfill a fantasy for a friend after a night of watching a male burlesque show and a pair of beautiful lesbians playing African drums.

She snuck up from behind,
breathing soft in his ear so dear,
lick with a flick of her tongue,
along the vein of his neck, threatening to devour him.
Straddling and rocking to the beat,
of the primal African drumming humming,
her dark amber eyes aglow with the flow,
plunging his soul with lustful looks.
Taking his face in her hands gripping,
she sucks and plucks a bottom lip,
then a top lip, to sip and whip with a flip,
of her tongue before she drowns him with it.
Slipping her hot wet prod while he nod back,
she devours his mouth, sweet, treat, with heat,
searing his body with a kiss from the miss,
to make him want her wanton, wanting me.

The beat bangs at their ears,
while they bang on with cheers all around them,
the cat on him claws and yehaws,
as she rides the cuntrymusic like a bull horn.
Giving him a teat so sweet,
“Suck it my baby, suck, your in luck, I like to fuck!”
“While you have a mouthful, don’t speakeasy,
just please-me, please-me, squeeze-me.”

The drums get loud , thunder in the crowd,
they boom through the gloom of haze,
and come to a peak as they squeak,
together as one, they are done.
The crowd applauds.

sm said...

look early, get watched often, is my mantra. reminds me of spending time at the Deux a Duex in Paris....

sm

Anonymous said...

Like Craig's story, this one is true.
Years ago, I was one of six college students who went to a concert. There were three men and three
women (including my girlfriend) and since we were far from home, we rented a motel room with two beds, planning to use sleeping bags also.There were no couples among the six. My friend's boyfriend had sent his friend as a chaperone because he didn't trust her. We met two guys on motorcycles and invited them to share the room. In the middle of the night, I awoke to see one of the cycle guys in the bed atop my friend. The chaperone was fast asleep beside these two very active new lovers. And I was the surprised voyeur.

Madeline Moore said...

It's a treat to return from a long weekend with my daughters (Canadian Thanksgiving) and find a complete post + comments to read.

I don't like people looking at me, but I do like looking at people. Bai Long, a character in my novel 'Wild Card' only enjoys sex if someone's watching. But that's not the case for me. I'm very private that way - can't stand the idea that anyone can hear, let alone see, what's going on.

Um - gosh I'm rusty, my mind is blank and I'm sorta sleepy (probably that turkey drug, L triptomine or whatever...) so I'm going to go back, read the lovely excerpts again, maybe cruise the comments again, and then stare at naked guy (thank you Alison) till it's time to go to bed.

Lisa said...

I was so exhausted after a long day at work, I went to bed early and passed out quickly. I never even woke up when he came to bed later. Sometime in the dark hours some unidentified sound woke me up. I was a little disoriented, but quickly realized the sound was the shower running in the master bathroom. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was a little after three a.m. Why on earth was the shower running? I got up and tiptoed into the bathroom, where I found his boxer shorts crumpled on the bathmat and a foggy silhouette behind the frosted shower curtain. Hmm...I stopped just inside the doorway, watching quietly, thinking I'd help him dry off when he got out, then maybe take advantage...he didn't seem to have noticed me there. I could just make out the shape of his body behind the curtain, slim and muscular, as he soaped up and scrubbed. My imagination conjured up all the details I knew so well, each little hollow and curve. My nipples were already feeling perkier despite the early hour. His hands were moving slowly over his body, the shapes of his hands fuzzy but recognizable as he began to stroke himself. I could hear him breathing harder, and my pulse began to race as well. Seeing the shadowy silhouette of his hard-on through the shower curtain made me wetter than I thought possible, and I slid my hand into my silky shorts as I watched. His hand moved faster, and he leaned over, supporting his weight against the wall with the other hand. My breath came faster, nearly in sync with his, and I was imagining the look of concentration and pleasure on his face. I slid further into the room, my hand deftly maneuvering my own crevasse, and gently pulled aside the shower curtain just as he climaxed. The arc of his come hit the shower wall, and he looked up at me with surprise and a slight blush. I smiled at him, satisfied.

Dayle A. Dermatis said...

Fantastic post!

As several people have mentioned, one joy of voyeurism is seeing the real thing, not the fake porn (that ends up messing up a lot of folks who think that's the way sex should be).

As I say in my Caught Looking story, "Undoing the Laces..."

...when I heard something.

Kelly’s low, breathy moan.

The sound throbbed straight into my clit. My belly contracted. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. (Porn was fine for porn’s sake, but there’s nothing sillier than all those fake moans and groans, especially when they happen while the actress’ mouth is full of cock.)

This was real. An honest sound of blatant passion....

Alison Tyler said...

Wow, that was all so hot... I won't say I need a cold shower, because, Christ, who wants a cold shower?

But I do love the snippets and confessions. Will post a winner for the smorgasbord of porn in the Coming Attractions on Sunday. So any more stories to share?

I'm waiting...

XXX,
AT

Anne Tourney said...

And I reveled in my finds like a treasure seeker on the beach who has uncovered a shiny gold coin.


I have to confess, I love that thrill of going through people's belongings. I think I'm a natural-born spy; I just crave those secret insights into others' lives, especially when the secrets turn out to be deliciously juicy.

On the other hand, I've also had this habit bite me in the ass -- hard -- when I've discovered things that I didn't want to know. Like finding a condom in a ex-'s wallet . . . when we weren't using rubber of any kind together.

Even then, the adrenaline rush was heady, almost overwhelming, leaving me shaking.

I have to admit, though I enjoy watching others make love, I also find it a bit sad and frustrating (probably because I got nothin' going on in my own life right now). I'd rather read juicy excerpts (like the ones you posted here) about other people watching. Would you call that "meta-voyeurism"?

Leslie said...

Great stuff. I am writer just tiptoeing on the edge of erotica. Lovely to read work with such candor. Thank you!

angell said...

LOVE to watch.

To BE watched - not so much. Could be I have no pride in my body (I'm a little heftier than I'd like to be). But all in all, what your psychie(sp?) allows you to do when you're in different circumstances is an amazing thing.

Sue A. said...

I'm definitely a voyeur. And reading erotica is in keeping with that trait. An outsider looking in on all the action without participating, but secretly wishing the roles were reversed.

Alison Tyler said...

Oooh, look! Hide & Seek is on the Blowfish blog!

Eile said...

I don't consider myself an exhibitionist but when I look at photos from parties or trips my lips are always stuck on my man. Every 3rd frame we are in some sort of lip locked pose.

I guess I just don't care who sees.

Eile