Sex Diaries: I Enjoy Watching People Have Sex

I had my epiphany when I dated Sally. Before her, I’d been with other women, some sweet, some fiery, all mostly forgettable. But Sally was different. Her legs felt like they stretched into the horizon, and her body moved with that quiet confidence only some women carry. She was ravishing, yes, but also unpredictable in the best ways. Being with her felt like holding a live wire; I never knew what she’d do next, and I liked it that way.

At first, I just wanted her. But soon, I realized I didn’t just want to be with Sally, I wanted to watch other people be with her. It hit me like a confession I didn’t even know I was ready to make. And it shook me. See, I’ve always been a jealous man. The kind of man who double texts, who watches his partner’s IG story views a little too closely. Past lovers have called me clingy, needy, even obsessive. But when it came to Sally, all those instincts twisted into something else. Wanting her just for myself wasn’t enough. I wanted more;  I wanted the madness of watching her be wanted by someone else. So I asked. Half-prepared for her to call me crazy, but she said yes. And that was the beginning of my journey into voyeurism.

She would meet with other men—and sometimes, women—with the full agreement that I could watch. Fully clothed, tucked away in a corner, I watched. For the few minutes it lasted, I would feel completely alive. Every touch, every sound, every shift in her expression felt like it was happening to me. My imagination would go wild, not with jealousy, but with arousal. I would picture all the things I would do to her after. The sex after was glorious. It was the kind of sex that made me feel high. Possessive, primal, electric. Like her letting someone else in only unlocked a deeper version of us.

But good things, especially the kind that don’t play by society’s rules, don’t last forever. Sally eventually wanted out. She said she needed something more stable. I couldn’t give it to her. I didn’t even pretend I could. So she left. That was in 2023. Since then, I’ve been looking for another Sally. But it’s not that simple. No sex, no porn, nothing online or offline compares to what I felt watching her. I’ve tried. Dating apps, social media, even whispered conversations with women I thought might be open. Some were, but I didn’t want them. I wasn’t attracted to them, and for me, desire is everything. The body has to call to me. That hasn’t happened since Sally.

So now, I’ve made peace with it. I know who I am: a voyeur. I enjoy watching people have sex, not just for the act itself, but for what it does to my mind. I won’t be shamed for it. And maybe I’ll find someone like Sally again, maybe not in Nigeria, but somewhere else. Somewhere where women who look like her, feel like her, might say yes. Until then, I wait.

 Names  have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals mentioned.