The Power of Observation

Every person that exists in the world is their own person with their own history and their own little universe of concerns, problems, happiness, joy, and sorrow. I think almost everybody knows that intellectually, but internalizing it is something different altogether.

Among my many hats that I wear is a stay-at-home mother. One thing that I have done since my oldest was old enough to toddle around on their chubby baby legs was to take them to the park. There’s a park in the heart of Salt Lake City that is my favorite. It has playgrounds, a pond, and even an aviary, not to mention wide open areas of grass and beautiful tall trees. I still go there to this day when it’s nice out and I watch people. I try and see them as human beings and fathom if I can the things that are going on in their universe.

One of my core beliefs is that if everyone tried to see each other for who they are we would have no choice but to love everyone as we love ourselves. I know that sounds like a bunch of hippie nonsense, but I believe it. When I look at people this way, I can see a sexiness too in nearly everyone. I wonder what they’d look like as my lover. Men, women, young or old, it doesn’t matter. If they’re unattractive or nasty, what could they look like? You get the idea. 

One of my other favorite things to do is watch someone get ready for the day. It began with my time with Esther. She would stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom with the door wide open. Many times she would be completely naked sometimes she would stand there in her underwear. There are few things in the world as beautiful as a woman putting on her makeup. Esther was particularly good at doing her eyes. She knew how to do the “smoky look” like no one else.

She would stare into the mirror and evaluate her appearance to the exclusion of everything else. I felt like such the voyeur. I would stare at the way her small breasts would sway to her movements and the way her round bottom would wiggle. It was arousing. I would find myself filled with lust by the time she’d turn around. If I had my way every time, I would smear that perfect makeup and tussle her well-set hair. Every time.

Esther would stare at me as I shaved my legs. I would stand there naked, making every movement a show for her. I’d look up and make eye contact and we’d smirk at each other. I’d pretend to have modesty by covering up my vagina with a hand as I shaved my legs and even touched up my “area”. But more often than not, one of my labia would slip out or I’d give it a provocative rub. Of course, Esther would need to check to see if I missed any areas. She’d kneel down between my legs and slowly rub her hands over every surface of my legs. Her face would be so close to my vagina that I could feel her warm breathing between my lips. It was the perfect tease.

Now, I watch my husband as he gets ready. It’s not quite the same, but it has similar arousal effects on me. He’s hardcore and shaves with a straight edge razor he bought online. He even sharpens it with a real leather strap. He’s manly. 🙂 My husband is tall and covered with dark wooly hair that clings to his body after a shower. He prefers to drip dry at the sink rather than use a towel. He lathers his face and shaves oh so very carefully. Instead of watching breasts sway I watch water drip from off the tip of his penis. It makes me thirsty. So thirsty that I want to catch it with my open mouth.

Sometimes, I’ll reach out and stroke the back of his leg, tickling his buttocks as I do so. This is torture because he can’t move or he’ll nick himself. But his penis will often rouse and begin to swell and stiffen. He’s a grower, not a show-er. But when he shows. Oh boy! I like to take him in my mouth when he’s still soft and feel him grow inside my mouth as I roll my tongue over him. Eventually, it’s raging hard and I can even taste the salty pre-cum. BTW: we need to come up with a better term than pre-cum. It’s a disgusting combination of words.

Once I worked him in my mouth as he brushed his teeth. There was little brushing going on at the end and I was surprised when thick, warm gushes filled my mouth. It’s always a surprise when that happens. I never really know what to do. Swallowing isn’t as easy as it seems. You have to be prepared for that. I’ll usually let it dribble down my chin and on to my chest. My husband likes that. He likes when I rub his hot juices that were just in my mouth over my chest like lotion. And actually, it’s good for your skin ladies. I’m not kidding. Of course, I wash it off quickly. I don’t walk around all day with the remnants of a pearl necklace. Let’s not be disgusting people.

Why am I writing this? I suppose it’s the challenge to see everyone around you as a distinct human. Don’t see them as a sex object, but rather as a tender lover. Even rude a vile people will take on a different aspect if you see them snuggled in your bed, kissing their neck, holding their hand as you walk down the street.

Love is expansive. It doesn’t exclude. And of course let’s not forget the wise words of Bill S. Preston Esquire and Ted Theodore Logan: “Be excellent to each other!” And . . . “Party on Dudes!”