Mac and Lisas bet ch5 final part 1
- 2 years ago
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Mac-man’s Adventures 5 free porn video
What is it about perverts and their dirty rainmacs? Some use them for flashing, which is not something I’ve ever done or would ever do – that’s nasty and offensive. Obviously most of us use them for mac-wanking, where you’ve modified the mac by removing one of the mac pockets, and then you’ve got matching wank-trousers so you go through both holes and onto your penis.
Underpants or not? I really liked the feeling of getting on site (my favourite spots on the streets), maybe rubbing the front of my trousers as I waited for the first sightings, then hastily rolling my underpants down inside my wank-trousers and starting to rub joyfully on the first girlie-goddess of the evening.
Depends whether you want stained underpants or stained wank-trousers I guess. I liked to build a big load of crusty stains across the front of my wank-trousers, so I always used jogger-bottoms as they’re not only absorbent and show my wet patch instantly but also nice and baggy to allow for frantic jerking movements which are sometimes necessary, if risky, when you have limited time that a girl’s going to be in view and desperately need to spunk watching Her before She disappears round the corner.
It’s a hard life sometimes for us mac-wankers.
It was specially important for me to have stained wank-trousers as whenever I could I had them on display, i.e. my mac open, when I was in the presence of my Goddesses, or in my special dirty bookshops where ladies served. I love as many girls as possible to know that I cum in my pants all the time just looking, even just at photos or videos.
Wank-trousers need to be discarded after a while, unfortunately, as the crusts become too hard and don’t show the wet patch so well or allow for free hand-movements. M&S ought to do wank-trousers where you can just replace the front panel. You can wash ‘em of course, but either way you still have to start again with clean trousers and quickly build up the stains for the girls you worship to laugh at and mock you for.
It’s a warm day and I’m in a home studio with Miss Leigh, wearing Her stunning outfit, and I’ve got my mac all done up and my cap on. She knows why. A wanker’s always going to wear his dirty mac, and I did every time I was at Worship Sessions with my Goddesses.
Miss Leigh comments when She sees my hand movements in my pocket. She knows very well I’ve got a straining dripping erection as I ogle Her lovely big bulging cleavage in disbelief. I’ve got 100s of photos of Her which have caused endless shots of spunk from this moaning perv and it’s difficult to believe that I’m really seeing Her for real and She’s not bothered about the idea of me filling my underpants with cum in a few minutes of seeing Her.
And She’s not the only one. I don’t know how beautiful Goddesses can be so unbothered about allowing a real perv in his dirty mac to ogle them in their showy outfits, making involuntary pervy noises, moaning and going “oh, oh” as the girls say sexy things or move so their big tits jiggle.
It’s hard to believe but these girls enjoy winding up wankers, they like the thought of being able to excite a pervert so much that he just does it in his pants. I try not to be too indiscreet, though with Miss Melanie, because the very first time She took me unawares and I was unable to hide it or control it when She made me spunk my pants right in front of Her, I knew it was ok to do that.
She said “we must do that again” and so I felt ok to do it openly in front of Her, all the shudders and convulsions and head nodding and knees crumpling, all the moans and cries and whimpers of perv ecstasy as She made me do it in my pants, a big wet patch of spunk spreading across them in Her full view.
Then She’d comment – “looks like you’ve already done it!” (yes it only ever took Her a few minutes to make me), “you’ve spunked all over yourself you wanker”, “urgh, do you need some tissues”, “my my, look at the mess you’ve made of your pants, ha ha”.
I’d tell Her I loved going home with wet pants after a Worship Session with Her. My mac was left open and I made sure She saw the hole in the pocket, and when I went into my special bookshops where ladies served, I also had my mac open and put my hand through the holes in the pocket so hopefully they knew I was a mac-wanker. They knew I was a wanker of course because of all the 100s and 100s of dirty mags I bought in their shops.
My mac isn’t just functional – I love the way I feel when I wear it, specially when girls, sexy girls, see me wearing it and say to their friends “he looks like a real perv”. Standing there in my mac, wank-trousers and flat cap, all done up on a warm summer’s evening, there’s nothing like it. I’m chanting “wanker, wanker” under my breath, and yes I do want everyone to know that’s what I am – the girls anyway.
A lot of people don’t seem to notice me but it’s nice when girls do. As they walk between the different clubs, they’ll see me standing in the same spot for hours sometimes, usually when it’s colder and I have to wait for hours to see skimpy-dressed girls walk by. They must wonder what I’m doing there, for hour after hour. It’s worth the wait though when I see a girlie-goddess in Her tiny miniskirt, high-heels click-clicking and a top that takes my breath away.
Hopefully I will have got enough notice that She’s walking in my direction as I will have been cold and limp, and if I’m erect by the time She’s a few yards away, then I only need to hold it upright and She’ll make me spunk right into my pants as She walks a few feet in front of me. I wonder if She had any inkling when She chose that outfit for tonight and checked Herself in the mirror, that She’d make a perv cum in his pants?
My favourite dirty bookshops - where ladies serve – are in public places, so often I would have the joy and delight of being seen by girls, in my perv’s outfit, going into or coming out of a dirty bookshop. I look suitably pervy as I shuffle up to the shop, ogling whatever’s in the window, pervy expression on my face, and turning my head to look at the watching disgusted girls as I push at the door to go in.
Sometime they say things, like “fucking pervert” as I go through the door. Unfortunately they’re never there when I come out with my purchases under my arm. But one of the shops has a porch which I can stand in when I’ve exited the shop door, and I wait there, a big stack of dirty books under my arm (I refuse the brown bag, saying I’ll put them straight in my case, but of course they won’t all fit in as it’s already full of mags stuffed with tissues).
As soon as I see girls walking along, I wait for the right moment to emerge from the shop doorway – a dirty old pervert in his dirty mac with a load of dirty books, so many that sometimes he ‘drops’ them, and has to scramble to pick them up, revealing all the covers with sex-queens posing, and the girls walk on, saying things like “OMG what a fucking wanker! Did you see all the dirty books he had, fucking pervert!” “Just imagine what he’ll be doing with all those later!” the other girl laughs. “Oh don’t! Urgh!” the other one says.
I love it, I love to feel their derision as they see this pervert in his mac who only wanks himself, a dirty old man who is a loner and spends all his time with his magazines.
Miss Melanie saw me in my mac all the time, but it was a different story when I got the opportunity to meet up with a glamour model for the first time. Do I wear my mac? What will She think? But in fact She asked me to email Her a picture of me so She would know who I was when I turned up at the exhibition She was working at. So of course I did a pic of me in my pervert’s outfit. She said “thank you Graham, now I’ll know who you are”. So obviously it was ok then to turn up in my mac.
And I did. God was I nervous (even after 7 years I was still very nervous every time I went to see Miss Melanie). I nearly didn’t go through with it, and loitered a little way away from Her stall, waiting for Her to show up. When She did I was rooted to the spot, unable to move, terrified of Her turning round and seeing me, which She soon did.
My heart was thumping but She smiled so nicely and came up to me, so warm, so kind, so lovely, saying “hullo, it’s nice to meet you!” I could only mumble, and in the 30 minutes I was there, could hardly speak, I was so overwhelmed. She is a Goddess, pure and simple, shapely, leggy, blonde hair tumbling, gorgeous-looking, and I utterly worshipped Her. Why She should want to meet me, a pervert mac-man, god only knows, but She was so kind and understanding, realising what an overwhelming experience it was for me.
Later a mutual cyber-friend casually asked Her about the meet with me, at my request (I was desperate to know what She really thought). She told him – “He was your typical dirty old man in a rainmac, he was just in awe of me and could hardly speak”.
I treasure those words to this day. I’d told Her a lot about me over the last few months, including my life story, so – if She’d read it – She knew all there was to know. I’d been careful about my choice of language, She didn’t like anything explicit, but I had been able to get across, in a discreet, non-offensive way, that She made me spunk my pants looking at Her photos, so it was lovely to see Her for real, in my perv gear, knowing that She knew the effect She had on me. Absolute Girlie-Goddess.
One place I rented there was a patch of wasteland out the back, which belonged to the property my rental was part of. I never saw the landlord from one month to the next, and this wasteland wasn’t obvious because you had to navigate a little copse to get to it. Over the months I concluded that no-one else knew it was there, and more and more it became my little perving-spot.
At first I’d wear my mac and mac-wank looking through the fence at girls walking down the street. In the end, I was taking a sheet of plastic, a fold-up table, my case of dirty books and boxes of mags, and going on my perv expedition to the copse. I could strip nude and put on just my mac, open the table and my case and spread dirty mags around, and stand on the plastic sheet to look through the fence.
Several girls who were local I would see again and again and enjoy the absolute delight of spunking watching them, and later maybe see them in the local shop (me always in my mac of course). I’d got a camcorder a while back so I could film them, pan down to my spunking willy and back up to them again.
I got a tripod so I could film the naked pervert tossing off as he peered through the fence. Sometimes I did take my mac off, much as I loved being in it, just so I could nude-wank, like I do in my wank-room, as a girl walked by. I never worked out a way of suspending the camera in the tree so it could film Her walking along the street and me wanking on the other side of the fence at the same time. Hey ho.
In the early days, long before I’d seen a girl pose for the first time, I used to go to any studio I could find and go into reception in my mac, and ask the girl if there were ‘any spare pictures I could buy’. Not just any studio, but studios which I knew were for punters who weren’t photogs, but guys looking for ‘business’. Mainly in Soho, but I also found studios advertised which were run by models.
They never had spare photos of course, but my real reason for going was so that they would see this perv in his mac, who couldn’t take photos, but just needed photos of bare girls because that’s the way he got all his sex pleasure. I loved being there with the girls looking me up and down, it was obvious what they were thinking, and I was loving their thinly-veiled derision as they told me, “no we don’t have spare photos, guys come here to take pictures and they have the photos”.
Then I saw an ad for ‘city clickers’, which was a magazine laying on sessions specifically for amateur photogs. God knows what persuaded me to go along – without a camera. Maybe I was just desperate by that time to see a girl pose. I obviously hadn’t thought it through and when I turned up in my mac, I poked my head round the door and saw no-one. I tip-toed in and paused in reception, not knowing what to do.
This typical photographer-looking bloke walked out one door and headed for another, looking up and down at this pervy-looking bloke in his rainmac, wank-trousers (very baggy soft material) and flat cap. I hesitated there, in the end getting up the nerve to poke my head round the door to the studio itself. Again, no-one there, but I could hear a girl’s voice out the back, talking and laughing with a couple of men.
They were behind a curtain at the back of this little stage, and suddenly I got this impression of all these professional-looking photographers, in smart casual clothing, and this girl arriving on stage, throwing off Her robe and being stark nude. I turned tail and dashed out of there.
I should never have gone in the first place, but at least now I have the very great pleasure of telling the story to every Goddess I’ve worshipped, and enjoying their laughter as they hear it.
The first time I met Miss Danica was in a studio in London. I’d carefully looked around and chosen one run by a non-professional couple, so that I’d feel comfortable turning up in my mac and cap. I was pretty nervous, meeting a Goddess I’d worshipped for years, and not sure what She’d make of a pervert in his mac and perv gear, expecting to see Her pose.
Of course by that time I’d sent Her a LOT of pervy worship sheets, some depicting the fantasy of watching Her pose and spunking my pants. (The second time I saw Her pose She wore an outfit that was in one of my worship sheets). I’d even sent Her photos of my wank-room full of mags, with pervert me in it – which She said She liked.
If She thought it was odd I was wearing my mac, done up and cap indoors She didn’t say anything. It’s beyond lovely for a wanker to meet and see for real a Goddess who knows he’s spunked and spunked over Her photos and in his pants many, many, many times. I was too nervous the first time but the second time, for reasons I don’t really understand, She wore at Her last change an outfit that She knew would be more revealing than anything I was used to seeing for real, even saying to me as She walked in the room “is this outfit too much for you Graham?”
It took me a few months but then I had the joy of telling Her She made me cum in my pants posing in that outfit, and She replied that She knew. Then She said, “next time you could leave your mac open and I’ll pose topless and who knows, maybe dreams do come true”. (Topless would not have been necessary). She knew very well how much I dreamed of Her deliberately making me openly spunk my pants in front of Her.
I can still hardly believe that She would do that, do that for Her pervert worshipper, it just seems beyond belief. What a Goddess.
Unfortunately I hesitated for months to get a new date for this Worship Session, worrying that it would be like I had to ‘perform’ – what if I couldn’t get a hard-on? What if I didn’t spunk in my pants watching Her? Would She be offended if I stroked it or rubbed it (She’d said before the very first meeting that ‘do’s and don’ts’ included not touching myself).
Before I’d resolved things in my head She’d announced Her retirement. Yet again for a sad timid wanker, thoughts of what might have been – story of my life.
It’s one thing to wank, but when you’re a mac-wanker like me, and girls make you cum in your pants just looking, then that’s what makes you a wanker, a perv. I don’t any longer get the guilt feelings I did early on, or worry about people finding out. Of course, I have to be careful as I rely on work to fund my perv habits, particularly the high cost of Worship Sessions. The discovery of my pervert life would jeopardise that without doubt. But I love girls to know, and Worship Sessions with Goddesses like Miss Danica, where every detail of my perviness is on display, are absolute heaven.
I love girls to see me on the street in my mac on a warm summer’s evening, those that twig I’m a perv. I don’t do this now, not for quite a while, as there’s cctv everywhere and everyone has a phone camera.
I don’t wear a mac (though overalls are nearly as good) in work situations, but those girls I see regularly in my work I’m very good at getting the impression across that I am a girl-worshipper, not by doing anything nasty or pervy, but just by the way I’m slightly in awe of them and easily but deferentially mesmerised by their lovely outfits.
One of the jobs I do is a bit of landscaping, and this lovely, lovely girl was the daughter of this particular couple. They had a big garden with a pool and I riskily went there to ‘tidy something up’, after doing the main job, more than I should have, hoping and hoping to see Her in Her bikini, but it never happened. On the occasions She was there when I was working, She wore lovely tops, fitting Her shape. Then I heard She was a barmaid in the local pub, and of course I had to go there and see.
I feigned surprise when She recognised me, and I had to come up with a reason why I was there as I wasn’t local, but it was worth it – She, and the other barmaid, both had breathtaking low-cut tops on. God She was fabulous, and after having wanked on Her for months, thinking about Her (no pics of course) to see Her for real and be able to press gently against the bar ogling Her, feeling the spunk rise until She had me in ecstasy, was just heaven.
There was no more work to do in that garden and so I never saw Her again, not until I tracked Her down on Facebook, and managed to download a few pics of Her with that lovely cleavage. Heaven.
Underpants or not? I really liked the feeling of getting on site (my favourite spots on the streets), maybe rubbing the front of my trousers as I waited for the first sightings, then hastily rolling my underpants down inside my wank-trousers and starting to rub joyfully on the first girlie-goddess of the evening.
Depends whether you want stained underpants or stained wank-trousers I guess. I liked to build a big load of crusty stains across the front of my wank-trousers, so I always used jogger-bottoms as they’re not only absorbent and show my wet patch instantly but also nice and baggy to allow for frantic jerking movements which are sometimes necessary, if risky, when you have limited time that a girl’s going to be in view and desperately need to spunk watching Her before She disappears round the corner.
It’s a hard life sometimes for us mac-wankers.
It was specially important for me to have stained wank-trousers as whenever I could I had them on display, i.e. my mac open, when I was in the presence of my Goddesses, or in my special dirty bookshops where ladies served. I love as many girls as possible to know that I cum in my pants all the time just looking, even just at photos or videos.
Wank-trousers need to be discarded after a while, unfortunately, as the crusts become too hard and don’t show the wet patch so well or allow for free hand-movements. M&S ought to do wank-trousers where you can just replace the front panel. You can wash ‘em of course, but either way you still have to start again with clean trousers and quickly build up the stains for the girls you worship to laugh at and mock you for.
It’s a warm day and I’m in a home studio with Miss Leigh, wearing Her stunning outfit, and I’ve got my mac all done up and my cap on. She knows why. A wanker’s always going to wear his dirty mac, and I did every time I was at Worship Sessions with my Goddesses.
Miss Leigh comments when She sees my hand movements in my pocket. She knows very well I’ve got a straining dripping erection as I ogle Her lovely big bulging cleavage in disbelief. I’ve got 100s of photos of Her which have caused endless shots of spunk from this moaning perv and it’s difficult to believe that I’m really seeing Her for real and She’s not bothered about the idea of me filling my underpants with cum in a few minutes of seeing Her.
And She’s not the only one. I don’t know how beautiful Goddesses can be so unbothered about allowing a real perv in his dirty mac to ogle them in their showy outfits, making involuntary pervy noises, moaning and going “oh, oh” as the girls say sexy things or move so their big tits jiggle.
It’s hard to believe but these girls enjoy winding up wankers, they like the thought of being able to excite a pervert so much that he just does it in his pants. I try not to be too indiscreet, though with Miss Melanie, because the very first time She took me unawares and I was unable to hide it or control it when She made me spunk my pants right in front of Her, I knew it was ok to do that.
She said “we must do that again” and so I felt ok to do it openly in front of Her, all the shudders and convulsions and head nodding and knees crumpling, all the moans and cries and whimpers of perv ecstasy as She made me do it in my pants, a big wet patch of spunk spreading across them in Her full view.
Then She’d comment – “looks like you’ve already done it!” (yes it only ever took Her a few minutes to make me), “you’ve spunked all over yourself you wanker”, “urgh, do you need some tissues”, “my my, look at the mess you’ve made of your pants, ha ha”.
I’d tell Her I loved going home with wet pants after a Worship Session with Her. My mac was left open and I made sure She saw the hole in the pocket, and when I went into my special bookshops where ladies served, I also had my mac open and put my hand through the holes in the pocket so hopefully they knew I was a mac-wanker. They knew I was a wanker of course because of all the 100s and 100s of dirty mags I bought in their shops.
My mac isn’t just functional – I love the way I feel when I wear it, specially when girls, sexy girls, see me wearing it and say to their friends “he looks like a real perv”. Standing there in my mac, wank-trousers and flat cap, all done up on a warm summer’s evening, there’s nothing like it. I’m chanting “wanker, wanker” under my breath, and yes I do want everyone to know that’s what I am – the girls anyway.
A lot of people don’t seem to notice me but it’s nice when girls do. As they walk between the different clubs, they’ll see me standing in the same spot for hours sometimes, usually when it’s colder and I have to wait for hours to see skimpy-dressed girls walk by. They must wonder what I’m doing there, for hour after hour. It’s worth the wait though when I see a girlie-goddess in Her tiny miniskirt, high-heels click-clicking and a top that takes my breath away.
Hopefully I will have got enough notice that She’s walking in my direction as I will have been cold and limp, and if I’m erect by the time She’s a few yards away, then I only need to hold it upright and She’ll make me spunk right into my pants as She walks a few feet in front of me. I wonder if She had any inkling when She chose that outfit for tonight and checked Herself in the mirror, that She’d make a perv cum in his pants?
My favourite dirty bookshops - where ladies serve – are in public places, so often I would have the joy and delight of being seen by girls, in my perv’s outfit, going into or coming out of a dirty bookshop. I look suitably pervy as I shuffle up to the shop, ogling whatever’s in the window, pervy expression on my face, and turning my head to look at the watching disgusted girls as I push at the door to go in.
Sometime they say things, like “fucking pervert” as I go through the door. Unfortunately they’re never there when I come out with my purchases under my arm. But one of the shops has a porch which I can stand in when I’ve exited the shop door, and I wait there, a big stack of dirty books under my arm (I refuse the brown bag, saying I’ll put them straight in my case, but of course they won’t all fit in as it’s already full of mags stuffed with tissues).
As soon as I see girls walking along, I wait for the right moment to emerge from the shop doorway – a dirty old pervert in his dirty mac with a load of dirty books, so many that sometimes he ‘drops’ them, and has to scramble to pick them up, revealing all the covers with sex-queens posing, and the girls walk on, saying things like “OMG what a fucking wanker! Did you see all the dirty books he had, fucking pervert!” “Just imagine what he’ll be doing with all those later!” the other girl laughs. “Oh don’t! Urgh!” the other one says.
I love it, I love to feel their derision as they see this pervert in his mac who only wanks himself, a dirty old man who is a loner and spends all his time with his magazines.
Miss Melanie saw me in my mac all the time, but it was a different story when I got the opportunity to meet up with a glamour model for the first time. Do I wear my mac? What will She think? But in fact She asked me to email Her a picture of me so She would know who I was when I turned up at the exhibition She was working at. So of course I did a pic of me in my pervert’s outfit. She said “thank you Graham, now I’ll know who you are”. So obviously it was ok then to turn up in my mac.
And I did. God was I nervous (even after 7 years I was still very nervous every time I went to see Miss Melanie). I nearly didn’t go through with it, and loitered a little way away from Her stall, waiting for Her to show up. When She did I was rooted to the spot, unable to move, terrified of Her turning round and seeing me, which She soon did.
My heart was thumping but She smiled so nicely and came up to me, so warm, so kind, so lovely, saying “hullo, it’s nice to meet you!” I could only mumble, and in the 30 minutes I was there, could hardly speak, I was so overwhelmed. She is a Goddess, pure and simple, shapely, leggy, blonde hair tumbling, gorgeous-looking, and I utterly worshipped Her. Why She should want to meet me, a pervert mac-man, god only knows, but She was so kind and understanding, realising what an overwhelming experience it was for me.
Later a mutual cyber-friend casually asked Her about the meet with me, at my request (I was desperate to know what She really thought). She told him – “He was your typical dirty old man in a rainmac, he was just in awe of me and could hardly speak”.
I treasure those words to this day. I’d told Her a lot about me over the last few months, including my life story, so – if She’d read it – She knew all there was to know. I’d been careful about my choice of language, She didn’t like anything explicit, but I had been able to get across, in a discreet, non-offensive way, that She made me spunk my pants looking at Her photos, so it was lovely to see Her for real, in my perv gear, knowing that She knew the effect She had on me. Absolute Girlie-Goddess.
One place I rented there was a patch of wasteland out the back, which belonged to the property my rental was part of. I never saw the landlord from one month to the next, and this wasteland wasn’t obvious because you had to navigate a little copse to get to it. Over the months I concluded that no-one else knew it was there, and more and more it became my little perving-spot.
At first I’d wear my mac and mac-wank looking through the fence at girls walking down the street. In the end, I was taking a sheet of plastic, a fold-up table, my case of dirty books and boxes of mags, and going on my perv expedition to the copse. I could strip nude and put on just my mac, open the table and my case and spread dirty mags around, and stand on the plastic sheet to look through the fence.
Several girls who were local I would see again and again and enjoy the absolute delight of spunking watching them, and later maybe see them in the local shop (me always in my mac of course). I’d got a camcorder a while back so I could film them, pan down to my spunking willy and back up to them again.
I got a tripod so I could film the naked pervert tossing off as he peered through the fence. Sometimes I did take my mac off, much as I loved being in it, just so I could nude-wank, like I do in my wank-room, as a girl walked by. I never worked out a way of suspending the camera in the tree so it could film Her walking along the street and me wanking on the other side of the fence at the same time. Hey ho.
In the early days, long before I’d seen a girl pose for the first time, I used to go to any studio I could find and go into reception in my mac, and ask the girl if there were ‘any spare pictures I could buy’. Not just any studio, but studios which I knew were for punters who weren’t photogs, but guys looking for ‘business’. Mainly in Soho, but I also found studios advertised which were run by models.
They never had spare photos of course, but my real reason for going was so that they would see this perv in his mac, who couldn’t take photos, but just needed photos of bare girls because that’s the way he got all his sex pleasure. I loved being there with the girls looking me up and down, it was obvious what they were thinking, and I was loving their thinly-veiled derision as they told me, “no we don’t have spare photos, guys come here to take pictures and they have the photos”.
Then I saw an ad for ‘city clickers’, which was a magazine laying on sessions specifically for amateur photogs. God knows what persuaded me to go along – without a camera. Maybe I was just desperate by that time to see a girl pose. I obviously hadn’t thought it through and when I turned up in my mac, I poked my head round the door and saw no-one. I tip-toed in and paused in reception, not knowing what to do.
This typical photographer-looking bloke walked out one door and headed for another, looking up and down at this pervy-looking bloke in his rainmac, wank-trousers (very baggy soft material) and flat cap. I hesitated there, in the end getting up the nerve to poke my head round the door to the studio itself. Again, no-one there, but I could hear a girl’s voice out the back, talking and laughing with a couple of men.
They were behind a curtain at the back of this little stage, and suddenly I got this impression of all these professional-looking photographers, in smart casual clothing, and this girl arriving on stage, throwing off Her robe and being stark nude. I turned tail and dashed out of there.
I should never have gone in the first place, but at least now I have the very great pleasure of telling the story to every Goddess I’ve worshipped, and enjoying their laughter as they hear it.
The first time I met Miss Danica was in a studio in London. I’d carefully looked around and chosen one run by a non-professional couple, so that I’d feel comfortable turning up in my mac and cap. I was pretty nervous, meeting a Goddess I’d worshipped for years, and not sure what She’d make of a pervert in his mac and perv gear, expecting to see Her pose.
Of course by that time I’d sent Her a LOT of pervy worship sheets, some depicting the fantasy of watching Her pose and spunking my pants. (The second time I saw Her pose She wore an outfit that was in one of my worship sheets). I’d even sent Her photos of my wank-room full of mags, with pervert me in it – which She said She liked.
If She thought it was odd I was wearing my mac, done up and cap indoors She didn’t say anything. It’s beyond lovely for a wanker to meet and see for real a Goddess who knows he’s spunked and spunked over Her photos and in his pants many, many, many times. I was too nervous the first time but the second time, for reasons I don’t really understand, She wore at Her last change an outfit that She knew would be more revealing than anything I was used to seeing for real, even saying to me as She walked in the room “is this outfit too much for you Graham?”
It took me a few months but then I had the joy of telling Her She made me cum in my pants posing in that outfit, and She replied that She knew. Then She said, “next time you could leave your mac open and I’ll pose topless and who knows, maybe dreams do come true”. (Topless would not have been necessary). She knew very well how much I dreamed of Her deliberately making me openly spunk my pants in front of Her.
I can still hardly believe that She would do that, do that for Her pervert worshipper, it just seems beyond belief. What a Goddess.
Unfortunately I hesitated for months to get a new date for this Worship Session, worrying that it would be like I had to ‘perform’ – what if I couldn’t get a hard-on? What if I didn’t spunk in my pants watching Her? Would She be offended if I stroked it or rubbed it (She’d said before the very first meeting that ‘do’s and don’ts’ included not touching myself).
Before I’d resolved things in my head She’d announced Her retirement. Yet again for a sad timid wanker, thoughts of what might have been – story of my life.
It’s one thing to wank, but when you’re a mac-wanker like me, and girls make you cum in your pants just looking, then that’s what makes you a wanker, a perv. I don’t any longer get the guilt feelings I did early on, or worry about people finding out. Of course, I have to be careful as I rely on work to fund my perv habits, particularly the high cost of Worship Sessions. The discovery of my pervert life would jeopardise that without doubt. But I love girls to know, and Worship Sessions with Goddesses like Miss Danica, where every detail of my perviness is on display, are absolute heaven.
I love girls to see me on the street in my mac on a warm summer’s evening, those that twig I’m a perv. I don’t do this now, not for quite a while, as there’s cctv everywhere and everyone has a phone camera.
I don’t wear a mac (though overalls are nearly as good) in work situations, but those girls I see regularly in my work I’m very good at getting the impression across that I am a girl-worshipper, not by doing anything nasty or pervy, but just by the way I’m slightly in awe of them and easily but deferentially mesmerised by their lovely outfits.
One of the jobs I do is a bit of landscaping, and this lovely, lovely girl was the daughter of this particular couple. They had a big garden with a pool and I riskily went there to ‘tidy something up’, after doing the main job, more than I should have, hoping and hoping to see Her in Her bikini, but it never happened. On the occasions She was there when I was working, She wore lovely tops, fitting Her shape. Then I heard She was a barmaid in the local pub, and of course I had to go there and see.
I feigned surprise when She recognised me, and I had to come up with a reason why I was there as I wasn’t local, but it was worth it – She, and the other barmaid, both had breathtaking low-cut tops on. God She was fabulous, and after having wanked on Her for months, thinking about Her (no pics of course) to see Her for real and be able to press gently against the bar ogling Her, feeling the spunk rise until She had me in ecstasy, was just heaven.
There was no more work to do in that garden and so I never saw Her again, not until I tracked Her down on Facebook, and managed to download a few pics of Her with that lovely cleavage. Heaven.
Kaylin
- 16.07.2021
- 114
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