I have a bit of thing for being watched and I like the idea of it being a controlling/powerful thing. This little snippet of fiction plays with that idea around the idea of a Peeping Tom

I know you are watching me, I can feel your eyes on me exploring my flesh.

Women are not meant to do this, we are supposed to draw the curtains, turn the light out, hide beneath the covers. We are not supposed to stand in the window and let you watch but when you see me, when I know you are watching, it is dirtier, hotter, better…. I want you to see me.

My hand disappears beneath the waistband of my panties, I lean forward, resting my forehead on the cool glass and let me eyes close just as I imagine yours opening wider taking me in, absorbing me. For a moment you doubt them, your eyes, are you really seeing this, is she really doing this, does she know, does she care? You even ponder looking away, the intimacy of the moment making you an uncomfortable voyeur but you can’t, won’t turn from me. I have you now and you will stay with me, feeding me with your watchful breathless stare.

You think you are in control, protected by the dark, no one will know you watched me, not even me but that is where you are wrong. This is not accidental, this is not innocent. I am feeding on you taking my pleasure from you, stealing it away without you knowing.

I picked you.

I decided.

This moment is mine, this body is mine, this orgasm is mine. You are mine and when I am done I tell you my secret. Like a whisper traveling through the air from my hotel room to yours, I look directly at you and smear the sticky juices from my fingers across the glass. You step back into the darkness of your room but it is too late. I made you my Tom and you can never un-see me.

Share this: Twitter

Facebook

Reddit

Pocket

