Peeping Tom

There’s no one for miles, just me and the crashing waves rolling into shore, and the soft glow of twinkling nebulae, and I’m fascinated by how the milkyway provides a different shade in the twilight hours, along with a full moon.

I’m sure the floor to ceiling windows provided him with whatever opportunity to shadow my movements, even after he’d anchor himself just offshore, and I’d watch him, watching me.

I caught him with his pants down, and his big hard cock in his hand one night; watching me through his binoculars, and he was startled by the cold tip of a double barrel to the back of his head as I crept up behind him; locked and loaded.

He never ever set foot on that block ever again, and whenever I see him down the street, he always seems like a stunned mullet.

His secret remains unknown to others but I know that he knows, that I know that I won’t hesitate, and the next time he won’t be so lucky.

The arrogance of a self entitled man isn’t the way to a woman’s cunt, let alone her mind, heart & soul.

In fact, his type are like sandpaper on the psyche, unless of course, she’s a devoted doormat kneeling on a leash that’s harnessed 24/7 to keep her tethered to his endless head fuckery.

That’s the difference between a woman, and a girl.

Perhaps, if he was a humble type of gentleman, and wasn’t too well hung, he’d have women flocking to him but not every woman wants a well hung man to fuck her hard & deep on a daily basis, several times a day.

He’s a once in a blue moon fuck, and not the daily ritualistic type; a keeper.

Hmm. Pity, he’s a peeping Tom and the stuff that nightmares are made of, and that deprives me of my sleep, these days.