I’m not a voyeur.
I don’t, generally, get off on watching.
When Charlotte and I were in the strip club a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of this: all the beautiful women in the world strutting around in their altogether just doesn’t do all that much for me, in and of itself, as a visual experience. No, what excites me about strip clubs is the potential for touch. It’s touch I crave, more than visuals.
Add to that – to the extent that I’m a consumer of porn (and I am one) – the porn I consume tends not to be what’s misleadingly called “lesbian” porn (porn depicting women having sex, typically for the visual benefit of men).
Don’t get me wrong: I love me some beautiful women. And if those beautiful women are kissing, fingering one another, licking one another, I’m sure as hell not going to complain. But the pure visual of it? That doesn’t do all that much for me.
What does do it for me – and boy does it – is seeing a woman, or yes, women, engaged in sexual pleasure at my direction. If I’m fooling around with a woman and my cock wilts even slightly, there’s often no better way to return it to full mast than to say, “I want to watch you play with yourself. Stand up. Touch your clit for me.”
That – the direction, the compliance, and then, the pleasure? That’s insanely hot to me, when it comes as a bundle.
Charlotte wants me to be a somewhat passive viewer in her prompt; that’s not what I will be. I will be an active director (when I’m not a participant).
“Sarah,” I will say. “Lift your skirt, please, and bend over.” And Sarah will do as I ask, will turn around, lift her skirt, revealing her slender waist, and her round, full, still-bruised ass. It will be a very pretty sight.
“Charlotte,” I will say. “Lie under Sarah’s pretty pussy and lick it for me.” Charlotte will lower her insanely pretty face, her innocent smile, her bright brown eyes, under Sarah’s flesh, and will begin to share with Sarah the talented mouth that I have come to know so. very. well.
Or perhaps, earlier in the day – and throughout – I will say, “I want you two to kiss for me.” And they will bring their pale white faces together, Charlotte gripping Sarah by the back of the head, Sarah snaking her hand up Charlotte’s top.
On the night we met, Charlotte – resplendent in a short black dress, commando – fingered Sarah – equally resplendent in her black/white checkered pants, and also commando. Earlier in the evening, I had directed the women to remove their panties, together, to swap them, and to have each give me the others. I will return their (very pretty, both black) panties after the next time my cock is in each of their mouths.
Anyway – the first time Charlotte fingered Sarah, Sarah came, and came quickly. (I wasn’t there – it was in the ladies’ room.) But now I want to see Charlotte fingering Sarah. Of course, I also want to see Sarah fingering Charlotte. I want to see them fingering one another while kissing. And, of course, while I sit, scotch in hand, stroking my cock, just waiting to join in.
[That’s of course central for me: as much as I’m thrilled that the two of them will enjoy one another’s bodies, and as I wouldn’t for a minute deny them the opportunity to thrill in them together, this is my fantasy. And in my fantasy, I’m anything but a passive observer, watching, except for some moments here and there.]
Here’s another part, though, that I like the idea of directing: “Sarah, put on your bathing suit. Charlotte, put on your white panties and tank top. Get in the shower. Make out. Finger one another. Lose your clothes. And clean one another up for me.”
Maybe that’s one of the first parts of the day? The last? Both?
And finally – and definitely not least – neither of these women has much experience devouring a woman. Charlotte briefly tasted Sarah in the bar the other night. I think that’s about it, for the two of them. But boy – they both are going to get a lot of practice….
My Bingo card is just overflowing.