I am watching you watching her. You aren’t even aware of me as you press your arm against your crotch, thinking nobody will see. Just a little rub. Ahhh.

But I see.

You waited there at the fountain watching her shop. Waited until she finally bent over to retrieve her dropped sunglasses. The flash of her white panties. That was what you were waiting for.

I wonder how often you do that. Waiting to see if you will get a little peek. A peek at something you can’t have.

Because you’re a pervert. A wreck of a little man that can’t get laid. Aren’t you?

How many pairs have you stolen? I know you have. Your sisters? Your aunts? Perhaps you watched a friend’s house while he vacationed and rummaged though his wife’s hamper? Finding a soiled pair at the bottom, then masturbating as you sniffed the still-moist crotch.

Pathetic little wanker, aren’t you? But I can almost understand. Because that’s about as close as you’ll ever get to pussy, isn’t it?