Man #31, the one made attractive only by voyeurs

Lately I’m not really following a chronological order – not that anyone cares I suppose…is there anyone reading this? – but I have flashes of memories and I go through my notes, find the episode, rebuild it and then write about it.

I’ve just finished reading an article that really really blew my mind away: it is at the same time a great piece of journalism, of sociology and of sexuality. It is the Motel Vouyer article by Guy Talese, the much appreciated American journalist who have just revealed the confessions of the most focused, organized and self-aware voyeur I have ever heard about.

I don’t have the presumption of retelling the article, take your time, be ready to be thrilled and upset and read it to the end. The reason I’m writing about it is the depth of insights that it gave me about voyeurism.

What do I really think about voyeurs? To which extent I may be considered one? Does it excite me?

Main answers are: I have a bit of a prejudice, I think they are sad or morbose, I don’t think I’m one as when I have sex i public places I spend almost no time in watching the others fucking, just at the beginning to get aroused, and yes, but what excites me is to be watched, to see that someone is getting horny by me having sex.

So, I was once in a gay sauna in Rome, I felt like numb and couldn’t really orientate myself. So I spent too much time wandering around, understanding the dynamics between people, the ways people behave to communicate willingness, preferences…

I remember me standing in the sauna and a guy staring at me like forever, without doing anything: the steam was so intense that I had really no idea what he was like, so I couldn’t decide what to do.

I remember an average man around 45, tall, thin, rounded shoulders, he was in the sauna and nobody was considering him, then I saw him sitting in front of a porno movie, he had a beautiful cock, 22cm, hard erection, and some young guys were like queueing to suck him. He choose a very attractive black guy, good shot, man.

I remember me in the shower and a couple of guys who wanted to touch me and get me horny. I didn’t feel like it, but they were super fun and we made some jokes and went away in a positive mood.

Finally I stood in another sauna, with an half hard on, and waited for someone to blow me. A guy who seemed rather pleasant came to me and with no hesitation grabbed my cock and played with it until it was completely hard then took my hand and drove me in the middle of the sauna. I went down on me and started blowing me in front of everybody, 8/10 people. I grabbed his hair, used his mouth at the rhythm I wanted, as deep as I wanted. Other people stood watching, someone stood masturbating himself or someone else, once approached me from behind and started caressing my ass.

I felt great, ready to come at any moment I wanted: it is not that I didn’t mind other people watching me, touching me, the truth is that I was making love with me as much as with the guy who was blowing me, or even more with them, with their desire I could feel, with their hands I didn’t mind stopping, with the fingers in my ass that I usually don’t like. 

They could be a bunch of people I would never make love with. Still.

Then my guy told me to go to another place, I didn’t understand immediately, I just wanted him to go on, I took my hand and drove me toward the door. It was like when you throw a stone among a group of birds: they all flew away at once, together.

The guy told me to wait for him, he had condoms and lube in his locker and wanted to be fucked. That was the end of the pleasure, but unfortunately not the end of sex.

I waited and felt a bit cold, I saw him coming back and thought he was not particularly nice, we went to a cabin and I realize that was nothing in his body that attracted me.

Is there anything like a sense of duty in not disappointing a guy who was giving you a strong pleasure? He was more than enough in the middle of an orge, he was not enough alone. I tried fucking him in many positions, but really couldn’t come. He was grunting and close to the orgasm more than once, I was as far as I’m now writing. I was just surprised by his resistance. 

Finally I decided to get rid of the condom and to masturbate myself above his ass, where finally I came. I didn’t like that either, since my cock was too wet and I couldn’t grab it hard.

Finally, while I was showering, I noticed another guy, with roman letters tattooed on his chest, watching me. I stayed in the shower more than I needed to let him watch me. I also thought about the gratification I get from the desire of other people, even if they are not the people I desire. I wanted to provoke them, to guide their eyes, their hands, their breath.

Once I read the stunning article of Talese, I thought about my experience in Rome, I thought that I could never be the owner of that motel, I would not spend my life watching other people out of excitement (I could imagine to do it out of curiosity, though), but I would probably have rent one room in that motel if I had knew that the owner was watching me and I wouldn’t have mind a bit of overprice.  

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