This is a follow-up to my last post in which I wrote about seeking a chance to explore voyeurism. This all goes back to the fact that I live in a sexless relationship.

I'm not going to tell you what I saw. I'm not going to tell you what they did (hint: they had sex). I'm not going to tell you what I did while I watched. What I will tell you is this, they loved each other. (They still do love each other.) When they made love, they kissed and whispered to each other the whole time. I couldn't make out their words though I was quite close to them, and that was right. Even with another person in the room, a person they had invited into the room, they created privacy between themselves, they created their own space, and their own intimacy. 

When I posted my ad looking for the voyeur experience, I wrote that I was looking for a 'loving couple'. Maybe I did and maybe I did not fully realize what that would mean. I knew I didn't want to see anyone who didn't truly want the experience, and I knew I didn't want to see near-strangers together. What I had failed to recognize though, was the possibility that I would see real 'love' being made. 

Perhaps it was the right thing for me. At the time I did this, my spouse and I had gone without sex for about six years (we're at year nine, now). Perhaps I did need, somewhere deep inside, to get close to love again, physical, romantic, intimate love.  Certainly I've seen porn, and I know it when I see it, and porn does for me what porn can do for people, and it does not do for me what porn can't do - feed the heart, enrich the soul, honor the inherent desire for a deep, close, physical connection with another human being.

When I remember that night, there are a few things that stand out, some I've already told you. I remember how I felt when I met them and how I enjoyed the shared flirting and wooing. I remember watching the first kisses they shared. And then, honestly, I don't remember much. By that I mean, the sexual images have blurred and faded into a little film montage in my mind. What stands out though and has become impossible to forget is the love they felt for each other. As I watched them I could see that they were giving this experience to each other. Exploring this area of sexuality together clearly made each of them happy, excited, and fulfilled. When I saw how they reacted emotionally to each other with such passion and intimacy, it was the only time all night when my presence felt intrusive. Watching a sex act between them seemed far less invasive than being in the room when they exalted in each other's emotional pleasure and shared understanding.

When I left, they walked me to my car. They each hugged me and thanked me. They were obviously excited to go back to their room to re-live the experience together.  I remember feeling like I had perhaps overstayed my time with them by a few minutes and it really was time to go. The last time I saw them was in my rear view mirror as I drove away. They were kissing and holding each other close. I flinched.

They still write to me occasionally, checking in. Over the years, they've asked me to join them again, but I turn them down each time as graciously as I can. Seeing that love, that shared intimacy, that mutual sexual respect and desire turned out to be much harder on me than I expected. I'm glad it exists of course, and I wish it for everyone - for each and every one of you - but I know now that I need to avoid seeing it again. I feel silly and embarrassed that I hadn't predicted that reaction within myself, but I didn't. (I never said I was smart.)

Sorry for the disappointing ending. Believe me, I wanted another one, too.