Voyeurism and other animals

Let me introduce myself. On second thoughts, who cares?

Right now, I'm doing one of the things I enjoy most: Looking up the skirt of some hapless female TV-presenter in the middle of a leg-crossing routine. Here's a good one of Meredith Vieira, showing us what she's made of about 14 seconds into the clip. Here we get a spectacular glimpse of white panties in a warm, dark tunnel. She's no spring chicken, but the view on video is nothing short of stunning, and who's looking at her face, anyway? It lasts maybe half a second: Blink and you’d have missed it. But to the astute Meredith fan (or even someone who doesn't know or give a fuck whose crotch they're looking at), it’s a moment of what can only be described as delicious torture. This could perhaps illustrate the apparent popularity of the knee-high camera angle amongst TV producers, hoping for a scoop of the kind that inspires sad fucks to make looping, slow motion versions of scenes like these and post them on YouTube for other sad fucks to gaze at and wank to. This is, as you've no doubt gathered, one of my areas of expertise.

Here's another tantalising tease. What she's wearing underneath is anybody's guess. It could be running shorts, if that's not a trick of the light, a fault in my spectacles, or a tear in my eye.

I puzzle over this delicious phenomenon. On the one hand, could she really be this ditsy spinster librarian with a Mensa IQ, totally oblivious of her own sex appeal? This teasing, tantalising display of knickers and thighs could be entirely inadvertent, the – for us voyeurs - happy product of scatterbrained distraction. On the other hand, could this all be a front, concealing a vixen who knows exactly what she’s doing every waking moment, enjoying her underground celebrity amongst the video voyeurs of the net? Is the knee-high camera her own idea? The jury’s still out on this one.

After all this excitement, I have to fuck someone and it might as well be Cindy. I've still got her key, even though it's been a while since I last used it. Barging in is more my style. And two in the morning is, I suppose, barging in, key or not. She's not much for it at first, but I'm not really asking, either. Taking is more my style. And barging in (excuse the pun) at two in the morning and waking her up in this rude way could certainly be called 'taking', although there's a giving aspect here too, I feel. The upshot of it - after lame questions about what I think I'm doing and what time I call this - is a splendid time, had by all.

If the truth be known - and I'm all for letting it be known - I’m no great shakes when it comes to the basic horizontal jogging. Once I even caught a woman looking at her watch over my shoulder whilst I was fucking her, until I tied her arms to the bedposts, curing her boredom and finally getting her hot. You see, I’m not very well endowed, lacking both length and girth, not to mention the motor skills, control and general giving of a shit required to become a true virtuoso. I’m tired and bored by the end of the first movement. But what the dick can’t do, the mouth makes up for, in more ways than one. If it’s not the whispering of deconstructionist fantasies in her ear whilst we do it, then it’s the eating of her, the sucking of her pink frills and strutting clitoris into my mouth. I don’t kid myself: The fact of her wanting me again and again, I put down to the frustration I cause her by stopping at the optimum point, giving her a taste of satisfaction without ever really slaking her thirst. She doesn’t get to take anything for granted. I tease her. I make her beg. I make her earn it. Then I withhold it. Sometimes by design, but more often than not by default. Wearied and bored by the effort, turned off by her panting, almost canine eagerness, her abandonment of any semblance of coolness, I just have to stop. And she can’t suck cock for shit. So I leave her. I can’t tell you how elating this is.