In the Mind of a Pervert

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What she's thinking about.
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Chicklet
Chicklet
230 Followers

All I can think about when I see people on the streets is the possibilities of them in sexual positions. I see women with willowy bodies and imagine their backs arching, those long necks bent back as they cry out with passion. I see couples standing together, their fingers winding around each other as if they were one and imagine them naked, clinging to each other, lips on necks sucking and nibbling away as their legs mingle like the fingers that I can see.

Maybe I’m odd, but it’s what I think about. I see a Goth girl with a studded collar around her neck, her mascara dark, and her face painted white. I imagine her on her knees in that collar, looking up into the eyes of a hard man, her hands cuffed behind her back.

Erotic possibilities seem to be everywhere I look. My vision of the world is tainted, maybe because I am tainted myself. If I hadn’t become active at such a young age, would I still think the same way? Or did I become active young because I do think this way?

Memories of being in my dance class, watching the older girls, all in their early twenties. Watching their bodies pulse to the music, their breasts bouncing back and forth as they went through the motions, twisting and moving as if in the throes of passion, all set to lovely sound. Shutting my eyes, trying to block it out, these thoughts aren’t right. They aren’t normal.

Would my friends respect me if I confessed that I lingered on their bodies? The men, with their chests that they are so free to expose to me while swimming. All I can think about is rubbing my hands over those smooth chests, their backs, running my hand between their legs and judging the size of their private parts. Would those boys become paranoid if they knew I looked at their shorts when they weren’t watching? Would they stop calling me if I told them that I fantasized about fucking them? Maybe. Maybe not.

My female friends are not safe either. I look at their breasts; judge their legs; every perfection and even imperfection drives me to lust. Half the time I’m awake I am shifting in my seat, trying to satisfy the heat between my legs. I feel that I am a purely sexual creature, and I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing. Would those girls be unhappy if they knew how I thought of them, or would they confess to having the same fantasies as me?

One friend told me she thought I was cute. My heart fluttered, and I was on the brink of saying the same to her. But what does it mean, that I’m cute, coming from a straight girl? Should I move in for the kiss, or should I back up and act shy, ashamed, as if even those simple words made me uncomfortable. It is hard to judge what they are thinking, and harder to judge what they would think if I made those bold moves. Best to stay safely away from them.

Every scene during the day is an erotic possibility. I work in a grocery store, with security guards that watch camera’s all day. That in itself is rather exciting; what if I were to touch myself? Would they see? Would they report it, or would they watch in excitement as I brought myself to a climax?

Thievery happens often in my store, and one day while I was walking towards the produce aisle I saw an arrest. Three large, attractive security guards confronted a young woman. They spun her around and pinned her arms behind her back, locking them there with handcuffs. My stomach fluttered and I felt the heat rising in my sex, just as when I am home alone and can think about whatever I like. Am I sick to feel this way? Is there something wrong with me? I just don’t know.

In every situation my imagination runs wild, thinking of the erotic possibilities. A man asks for help, smiles at me in just the right way. A flash in front of my eyes, and I see myself licking his feet, him sitting down half-uninterested in the girl at his feet, watching television. Another flash and he’s at my feet, I’m using him as a footrest. Another flash and I’m back at work, smiling and nodding as he asks for this and that. Is he thinking the same thing I am? How I wish I could get into other people’s heads. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a freak.

Pervert, I think to myself. Maybe that’s what I am. Proud to be one, too, I suppose. I find amusement in everything, and life will never be boring as long as I see the twisted and kinky in every daily event. Whether I’m strange or not I’m happy, and as long as I don’t drag unwilling participants into my world, I think I won’t be doing anyone any harm. So next time I look at you, you should think about what I’m thinking, and maybe take another look at me.

Chicklet
Chicklet
230 Followers
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