The Twisted Voyeur


I’m a voyeur, it seems. Maybe even twisted to some people’s standards. And maybe those people are boring, but it’s all subjective.
Take for example, the concept of sniffing panties. I don’t do that. I know how to push my kitten to turn her on and I can inhale that delicious scent just like that. 
I do Inhale her perfume. Because it makes me think of her. And because when I’m down or lonely, I go to her jumper or something and inhale. 
But like, if someone did sniff panties, that’s their thing. And when I hear someone, like in my circle of friends, react to the concept, I think to myself why? We’re animals. Smell is a big thing to us. 
But a twisted voyeur I am. I like to watch people. People make me curious. And my mind is all sorts of an erotic Rear Window. 
I guess I’ve always been interested in psychology and I’ve always been interested in behavioural patterns.
And then there’s the idea that I’m in someone’s space. Maybe making them, if not uncomfortable, then making them think about why they are uncomfortable? What reason? 

For some reason I like taking something of yours and corrupting it. It’s a weird sort of Sadism.
Say you’re undressing in your bedroom, free to be a goof, whatever. And then I’m by your window, or I materialise from thin air. To slowly take what freedom you have, to take the last personal space you have, and violate it with my wandering eyes. 
What space are you bound to? What rules are you bound to then? When that space is taken from you and you are left naked and trembling.
My mind is tired and wandering. The point I’m making is: I’m twisted, psychological and fascinated by people. And how they behave behind closed doors. In their bedrooms. What secrets are in their drawers? What toys? What kind of underwear? What lingerie? How do they sleep?
I hope that when you’re in your personal space next, that this post comes to mind. I hope you feel the concept of being watched. You should tell me what that’s like. 

Late Night Voyeurism 

  

Late Night Voyeurism
I sometimes look at some men and women and wonder what turns them on. I can’t help it. Psychology, sexuality – they’re big parts of me.

And it’s not simply thinking what are their sexual drives, it’s how do they behave? What makes them tick? What are their thoughts and desires? How do they behave in the bedroom? What do they prefer? Lace, satin, silk, cotton – what makes them unique? 
The thoughts, they go on and on. Sometimes, like now, as I sit in the lounge room of my quiet house at 12-26am, my mind moves to the lives of others? What do they enjoy? What are they doing at this hour? Nothing is sacred with me, nothing is untouched upon. I guess you could call it perversion. I would call it intrigue. But then again, you are reading the words of a guy that writes dark erotica based on Disney characters. 
I know my life, I love my life. My family, my ideals. But what are the ideals of others? What starts their engine that tears them through the day? 
And will they pick the black lacy panties? Does he or she sleep naked? If not, what are their views on it? I just don’t know. But in my mind, I house an infinite number of universes for these fictional people and I wonder. 
How about you? Do you wonder? 

The time is now 

  

I am the entity that lives in your closet. I’ve been watching you for some time. Waiting until the right moment. Until you were at your weakest.

Why, weakest? So I could have you rise above and soar – like the wild wolf I’ve seen inside you. The one that likes to talk dirty to herself as she masturbates alone.
You’ve heard me once or twice. Fumbling about getting comfortable as you slip out of your teal cheetah print panties. I’ve inspired thoughts from your childhood. Something about shadows visiting you in the night. No matter.  
Come to me, child. Come to the wardrobe where I lay in wait. Slip that skimpy nighty off and let me see that skin of yours. The one those false Angels have clawed at on nights. But you and I both know that they were weak and undeserving. You know you have been waiting for the monster to take you to a nightmare. So: undress. I’m waiting. Can you hear my breathing? Listen closely. 
Undress. We have the time. 

What, you thought I was kidding child? Start to undress this instant. I don’t like to be kept waiting. Tonight is the night I can invade.

Are you staying still? Undress yourself for me now, you will do as I say. Don’t make me tell you again. I’m watching you, child, I know when you will be completely naked. 

There we go. All the way. There we go, there’s that trimmed cunt. Just the way I like it. 
Kneel for me, child. Swear your allegiance to me. I am the monster you begged for as your juices spurted across the sheets of an evening. Where is that animal now?
I have waited long enough. It is time now. It is MY time. All those men that have come before – they will not compel you like I will. They will not claw you like I can. I will make you float, dear girl. 
With upmost force I will possess your body with a pleasure beyond your world. Beyond your knowledge.
Understand you will not simply moan, you will scream so hard you will not recognise yourself. Understand you will come so hard you will gasp to push out that scream. 
Watch your sweet pale body rise above the floor as I open these doors. Watch as all reason leaves your mind, as it drives you mad. Watch as your breasts sting from my strikes, as the delicious bruises you have prayed for while laying in bed – the prayers that invited me in – appear on your breasts. Is the sting dizzying?

Watch as your juices smack against the carpet below. Once, twice. Three times. Your sweet cunt is flooded, child.
One last thing: do not be afraid of me. I mean you no harm. I will release you as an ascended being. Broken and bruised – but alive. Ascended. Your mind — opened. 
This moment has been a long time coming. 

Exhibitionism and Voyeurism

Exhibitionism and Voyeurism strike a cord with me that I can’t quite explain. But I wanted to talk about it because I’m just about to slip out of my clothes and crawl in besides my honey.

Nakedness thrills me. I love the idea of just laying against my cool sheets, feeling my skin kiss that fabric. I like the idea that my pet may check out my ass, apparently a great feature of mine.

I have flirted with exhibitionism in my past. I’ve fooled around in cinemas and enjoyed a frolic in the park. I’ve strangled my pet in her car, while folks could easily see. I get off on the idea folks might watch but I’ve got a taste for more.

Not all the time, I’ll say. I’m a private man and more often than not, I think my affection for my pet should be between her and I only – in our own little slice of heaven.

But does the thought of exposing her in private arouse me? Mm, somewhat. I will admit to growing excited at the thought of the world seeing her treasures but more often than not, I want her for one person only: myself.

And yet, the idea of making her let out those sweet and soft moans while a neighbour watches her – when I know fully well that she is mine to devour – is arousing. It stirs me. It’s an intriguing thought, to think I want that aspect, have engaged in that aspect. That a part of me wants to share her hardening nipple with the neighbour as a sign of Dominance – as if I’m saying “see this fucker? You can’t have this. I’ve claimed her”

It’s all so sensual and erotic and just liberating and I want to share this with her — and the world.

I guess I’ll file Exhibitionism and Voyeurism under ‘the Beast’ tab, for it seems raw and animalistic and a part of that animal – my own kinky Mr. Hyde.