Compersion: The Warmth of Watching Them Bloom

I’m tired of how mainstream porn twists something tender into something cruel. Every time I search for fantasies that even hint at sharing, at openness, I’m met with words like “humiliation,” “denial,” “cuckold,” “used.”

That’s not MY desire. That’s not OUR story.

What I want is compersion. That slow, honey-sweet joy of watching someone I love find pleasure—not in spite of me, but with my blessing. Not erased, not lesser. Just there, witnessing them bloom.

I want to see my partner—beautiful in ways that go beyond language—laid bare before someone they trust. Another body, another energy, someone who touches them like a prayer. And I’m not jealous. I’m lit with it. Because I get to see them through someone else’s eyes and still know: they are mine, and they are free at the same time.

I picture them gasping, flushed, laughing, moaning as hands roam and mouths explore. I watch from the edge of the bed, one hand on my chest, the other between my legs, not left out—but so in it. Because when they come undone, I come too. Because their joy is mine. Their pleasure feeds me.

This isn’t about being degraded. It’s about being connected. This is intimacy with the door open. This is love that’s not afraid to expand. This is what turns me on.

And I want to see it. On screen. In light. In moans and sweat and eye contact that doesn’t lie.

Give me compersion porn. Give me love like this.