The Thrill of Voyeurism--and its Grave Risks

Are you willing to take the chance?

Or: "I Like Gym Clothes That Leave Nothing To The Imagination"

By Francine Pickering

I wonder if you would like to come shopping with me and my young girlfriend for butt scrunch leggings that show every nook and cranny of her lovely form.

We'll have to sneak you in, of course. And you'll get to watch women together in private dressing rooms doing things with one another.

Does that sound interesting to you? Good. But beware. There was a man named Pentheus who heard about women "doing things" together in the woods. They were called the Bacchae. He snuck into the woods to spy on them. He saw some stuff; it must have made him excited. He made a noise. The women looked up in the trees and mistook him for a wild animal. They tore him to pieces--that's the ancient act called sparagmos. Tearing a person limb from limb.

What makes this even more tragic is that one of the Bacchae was Pentheus' own MOTHER. That's right. There's something Oedipal about our need to "see". It's what Freud called "the primal scene." The mother and father copulating. We know we're not to even imagine such a thing, so we bury it down in our unconscious mind.

But the thrill of seeing such scenes is undeniable. It's why the world invented Peeping Tom's. They peek through windows because they want to "see". They especially want to see what is forbidden and hidden.

We love the transgressive optics of it. To watch something you shouldn't see.

It's very exciting but it has its risks. You might be torn limb from limb, one never knows.

But there are ways to mitigate that risk.

For instance, erotica with good visual accompaniment, if you can find that. Hooray, you've come to the right place.

I can say with 99 percent certainty that there is very little chance of you getting caught and suffering sparagmos if you engage in the voyeurism I am going to invite you to engage in.

Are you in?

Great! Let's get to it.

Readers, you are invited to observe a special ritual, two women "doing things" together.

So it's not taking place in the woods, like the Bacchae. It's taking place in the dressing rooms of department stores. In the gym. And in the shower.

It is centered around those aforementioned butt scrunch leggings.

There's nothing better than seeing my young girlfriend in shapewear. Fitwear. Active wear. As long as it scrunches and shows every nook and cranny.

We didn't have this style of leggings and athletic wear when I was her age. I don't wear much of it myself, as I'm old school. But almost every week Stephanie and I go together on a search for the scrunchiest, butt-mashiest, nook and cranniest pair of leggings ever made.

Because she just rocks out the new style of leggings. It floors me.

Now come into the "woods", Reader, make yourself hidden, and watch us in the gym.

We do work out a lot. If you have a trophy girlfriend as I do, you must keep the trophy shined and well-maintained. That involves at least two hours of gym time a day. I don't have to insist on it--Steff loves working out. I'm kind of her personal trainer, you know, helping her out and guiding her through workouts.