The Innocent Voyeur

With his eye pressed deep against the lens,
a quiver sent a tickle down his spine.
His hand gripped hard around the cold black metal
while his tongue slithered across his eager lip like a serpent.
Her ripe nudity,
so poise and elegant in all that she embodied,
teased at his iris.
He whispered his desires
as he edged closer towards her,
separated merely by 100 feet and a thin sheet of glass;
close enough to touch, it seemed.
The thought alone drove him mad enough to send him running for the door in the direction of her presence before she melted in the hands of her vendor.

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