The Discreet Charm of Perversity

I was walking along the Millenium bridge today enjoying the sights.

Tate in front of me, The Eye on the left and Shard on the right.

And the teenage beauty right in front of me, tootling along with her Dad and two sulky brothers.

I am not into girls but I am fascinated by them.

She was 14, 15 at the most. Tall, beautiful face, with full lips, twisted in a petulant pout, big blue eyes and that unmistakable plumpness in her face, not quite yet out of the puppy fat phase.

It wasn't her face that got my attention. It was her legs and bottom. She was wearing a tightest, skimpiest pair of shorts, the ones that barely cover the cheeks, cut into the crevice of her arse and most certainly feel a bit tight in the crotch. 

I slowed down and followed, taking in the view. She had that slightly out of proportion shape with the legs being too long for her body, her breasts, not yet fully mature with a cotton bra promising a soft fullness in a year or two. She walked with that foalish awkwardness which made her bum cheeks move with the fabric of the shorts skirting around that gorgeous peachiness of her arse.

And forgive me but I just imagined her being fucked. I imagined a hard cock, sliding between these thighs, teasing the crevice between her buttocks, glistening with readiness. I imagined that cock sliding into her tight cunt, the gasps, the surprise, these plump petulant lips being bitten with her white teeth at the delight of first penetration. I imagined her being taken from behind, man's hands, large hands, holding her just around that tiny waist and slamming his hard cock into her, in and out of her cunt, drenched in her fresh juice. The stifled little noises she would make. The same hands, fondling her pert little tits, pulling her closer, penetrating her deeper.

I stopped to hold that image in my head, watching her walk away, that tight little bottom, with the gorgeous creases under the cheeks slowly sashaying away.

I am a pervert like that.