The Outlaws by Honey Palomino

 
     
     
    The Outlaws
    By Honey Palomino
     
     
    “I'm convinced we all are voyeurs.
    We want to know secrets,
    and we want to know what goes on
    behind those windows.”
    ~David Lynch
     
     
    I have a problem.  I can admit that.  I admit it to myself everyday.  But I tell myself it's harmless, and so I don't do much to change it. Some people might think it's wrong, sure.  But that doesn't matter to me.  I would never share my problem with anyone, I keep it to myself, so I don't have to worry about what other people think.
     
    It keeps me entertained, that's for sure. It passes the time and even provides me with further entertainment when I'm done.  Sometimes I worry, a little, that I might get caught. But I haven't yet, not in any serious way.  Occasionally, I'll get an odd look when I'm out and about, but it's easy to chalk it up to coincidence or imagination.  Unless someone was watching me all the time, they would never know.  And there's the irony.
     
    I'm a voyeur.  Not in the sexual sense of the word, I'm not a pervert.  I just have a tendency to fixate on a person, so I watch them.  Maybe I'll follow them a few times, just to see what they are up to.  They're always strangers, I never talk to them, I just watch.  And then I go home, and I write about them.  I write stories about them, and keep them all to myself.  A big file on my laptop is filled with the accounts of other people's days.
     
    Maybe you are thinking that's creepy, but really, isn't that what most writers do? We write stories about other people.  Some writers just make up the characters in their imagination, but some authors say the best characters are the ones that bare a resemblance to someone they've met in real life.
     
    So, I didn't feel so bad about it, you know?  I was a writer.  A writer with an incredibly boring life off the page, and since I didn't have a lot of real life inspiration to draw from, I went out and found some.  So what if I pushed the boundary between watching and stalking every now and then?  There was no harm intended, so I continued doing it.
     
    It was fascinating, really.  People tend to do the strangest things when they think nobody is watching.
     
    Like right now, here I am sitting in my car watching a couple make out in a red mustang on the corner of 3 rd and Broadway downtown.  I can't see them very well.  It's way past midnight and the street lights are faint and flickering overhead and most likely about to go out and ruin my show before we get to the good stuff. 
     
    I followed this couple out of the bar I stopped in after work, and instead of starting my car, I sat here and watched them approach the mustang.  I wasn't surprised when they started making out before they even got the doors open.  The tall dark-haired man isn't all that handsome, but he exudes confidence with every step.  He pushed the petite blonde against the car. She giggled and sighed before wrapping a leg around him and pressing her huge breasts against his barrel-chest.
     
    After making out like teenagers for a few minutes, they got in the car and drove off.  How could I not follow?  I didn't have anything better to do, and it was Friday night.  Sure, I had to work tomorrow morning, but the best things to watch happened on the weekends.
     
    I was surprised when they ended up at a park instead of a house.  You only go to the park to make out late at night if you can't go home.  I wondered which one of them were married?
     
    They weren't discreet by any means.  After turning off the lights, they stumbled out of the car and into the park.  Once again, the man took charge and pushed her up against a tree.  Hiking her leg up once again, I watched as his meaty hands grabbed her thighs firmly and pressed into her.  He pulled back just enough to unzip his pants and take out his cock before plunging into her swiftly.
     
    Their silhouettes swayed back and forth, their passion back lit by the faint lights in