Watching Her Flirt With a Stranger

I remember the moment I first saw her like this. The black dress hugging her curves, the garter belt and stockings accentuating her legs. She was sitting there, one leg resting on the chair, the other angled outward. Her hand rested near the hem of her dress, teasing. The room was dim, the lamp casting a soft glow. I couldn’t help but think about the strangers who would see her, touch her. It was a thrill, a mix of fear and excitement. I knew she was mine, but in that moment, she was theirs too. The thought of her being picked up, hit on, it was an amazing turn on. I didn’t want to miss a second of it.

Confession: The Power of Watching

Watching her from a distance, I felt a strange sense of control. I was the one who put her in that dress, who told her to wear the stockings. I was the one who knew the power she held. The way she sat, the way she moved, it was all for me. But it was also for them. The strangers who would see her, who would want her. I was the cuckold, the one who watched, who waited. But I was also the one who knew her best. I knew her desires, her fantasies. I knew the thrill she got from being wanted, from being taken. And I was the one who gave her that. I was the one who let her go, who watched her fly. It was a strange power, a strange pleasure. But it was ours, and it was perfect.