Voyeurism.

OK, I will openly admit to being a massive, spectacular Voyeur. The summer is particularly good for feeding my habit-short skirts, unbuttoned blouses and a variety of "almost" clothing make my travels around the country so very pleasurable.
I cannot think of a much more inspiring activity for a hot afternoon, than sitting outside a city centre cafe or coffee shop and watching the world drift by, willing the city breezes to blow a skirt high enough to catch a fleeting but delicious glimpse of stocking top, Suspender strap or well filled panties. It really does make life worth living.

Thank you for reading this fledgling blog. Please, bare with me, as I begin to publish my words and images, my thoughts, desires, dreams and visions. All and any feedback will be gratefully received and acted upon.

A short poem, concerning Voyeurism:  Silence Reigns.

The oiled snick of a key in the lock
alerts me to her presence.
Heels, piano black, impossibly delicate, deservingly expensive
trace a languid sultry beat across polished wooden floors.
Car keys settle noisily into a heap on the kitchen counter
the cat meows hungrily
demanding affection

The machinations of arriving home continue.

From my lofty , unknown eerie, I observe
drawing slow, deliberate breaths.
Waiting.
The sound of her footfalls on the stairs
cause my heart to beat, just a little faster.
The first sight of her has me biting my lip
in anticipation.
Hair, tightly pony tailed, shimmering darkly.
Her favorite Charcoal colored business suit,
Fitted.
Accentuating her curves.
Bare legs, this hot summer day,
tanned, long, lithe.
That blouse,
barely concealing lace,
her bra, the perfect nest
filled with warmth and all things beautiful
buttons,
undone slowly, deliberately.
Silk blouse, pushed back off her shoulders,
revealing her neck, shoulders, breasts
magnificent perfumed skin, toned and aglow.
I smell her from the distance
Tantalized am I

Still, I wait

she moves past me,
close enough to stroke
she pauses,

she knows.

I know she knows.

I smile as I freeze, mid breath,

this delicious, tantalizing fantasy is not ready to end

Sweet scent,
cloying,
dizzying
consumed
every hair stands,
the atmosphere
crackles expectantly.
Now it is I
the subject,

her prey.

Her Fingers trace slowly from her neck,
over the lacey fullness of her bra.
Down across her flat, taught belly,
onto the broad, magnificence of soft, fleshy hips.
Lips, full, blood red, moist.
pout knowingly.
The sound of a zip, loud as a rifle bolt in this cloistered temple of desire,
skirt pushed expertly up around her waist
She moves to the bed, left only in $300 Lingerie, £500 shoes
The blood pounds through my veins,
heightened reflexes,
needle sharp.

Still, I wait
I watch.
I watch her show me

I watch her moves,

Her launch onto the invisible waves of animal instinct.
I listen.
I listen to her gasp

Soft and low at first

Like a baby cooing

And then there it is

The rising

Like a building storm out of nowhere

Completely unexpected

She peaks
Her dance, a shudder,
hidden with its carnal beat
then quietly and gentle
a mountain stream.
subsides.
And in that moment, I know
I cannot wait for her any longer.
I submit, show my face
and take her, slowly, knowingly, lovingly
back to the place where we are one