To Tease a Perv Ch. 04

"Look," said Rachel. "This one is close!"

It was the next day, Saturday. Celine had gone over to Rachel's house and together they were going through the sexual registry, looking for men who might live near them.

"He looks kind of weird," Celine said. "And look, it says he was convicted of assault, lots of times."

"Yeah, I suppose," Rachel agreed. "Most of these guys seem like that. Either that or they're real skeevy, you know?" She got up and began to pick up some of the clothes she had discarded on the floor the night before.

"Hm," Celine said frowing, as she browsed through the registry. "Aren't there any nice pervs around?" They both laughed at this. "I don't know, maybe this is a crazy idea, we're not going to ... wait! Look at this one." Rachel raced back to the computer and sat down next to Celine.

"Found something?"

"I don't know, maybe. He doesn't live that far away, and he looks - well, he's not exactly good-looking, but at least he's not a grungy old man. He kind of looks like my dad, and he's forty. I guess that's not so old, really. Troy - Troy Wilcox his name is."

"What'd he do?" Rachel asked.

"It says he - oh my gosh! It says he was convicted of 'indecent exposure'. I wonder what he actually did?"

"Here, let me," Rachel said, pushing Celine aside at the computer. "I'm good at this." She began to call up searches of on-line newspapers, looking for stories written at about the time the man was arrested. "Ha!" she said, "Found it. Troy Wilcox - he was arrested when he was sitting in his car exposing himself while he was watching girls coming out of school and crossing the street."

"He actually stood there and showed it to them?"

"I don't think so. It says the crossing guard happened to see him through the car window, and saw that his penis was out."

"So he didn't actually show it to them? He must have been playing with himself," Celine said.

"I guess," Rachel said.

"Doesn't seem like such a big deal."

"Well, they sent him to jail for it," Rachel said, "so I guess he must have been jerking real hard!" They laughed again.

"Well, I still don't think he deserved to be put in jail for it. I mean, he was just trying to have a little fun. He didn't hurt anybody, right?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, "just trying to get his rocks off. Look - it says that he was in prison for a year, and then they let him out under supervision."

"I wonder what that means," Celine said. "The cops follow him around?"

"Actually, Jake told me something about that once. He said that when these dudes get out for doing something like that - you know, something with sex and underage kids - they have to go to these meetings to get therapy and stuff. He said they have to promise to keep going to the meetings, and swear that they won't look at any porn on the Internet or buy dirty magazines, things like that."

"Sounds like Jake knows a lot about it - he ever been in jail?"

Rachel laughed. "No, I don't think so. He just talks with some of the guys who go to the arcade sometimes. He says some of them have been to jail and are real addicted, sorta like alcoholics."

"They say that alcoholics are never really cured," Celine said. "They always have to fight the urge to have another drink. I wonder if it's like that with guys like this Troy - whenever they see a pretty young girl they have to play with themselves. I guess they're always fighting their urges. Must be tempting for him whenever he sees a girl who turns him on. Especially since he could get sent back to jail again if he can't control himself."

"Imagine being turned on all the time and not being able to do anything about it!" Rachel whispered.

"Yeah," said Celine. "Poor Troy." They looked at each other and giggled.

"His cock must be hard all the time, the pervert," Rachel said.

"Totally!" Celine agreed. Then she frowned. She bent closer to the screen to examine Troy Wilcox's picture. Her eyes shot open. "No way!" she exclaimed, and grabbed her cell phone.

"What's the matter?" Rachel asked, puzzled.

"I didn't really look at him while I was taking these - but look!" Celine said, holding up her phone. Rachel stared at the picture, a man sitting on a bench holding a newspaper on his lap, his right hand under the paper. He was staring fixedly towards the camera, biting his lower lip. Then they both looked at the mug shot on the computer screen.

"Holy shit!" said Rachel. "It's him!"

"Sure is," Celine agreed, "jerking off to me just like he did that got him in trouble."

"Guess prison didn't cure him," Rachel said.

"Guess not."

"Poor guy."

"Yeah, poor old pervy Troy," Celine said. She smiled.

* * * * *

So dull tonight. Hell, it's dull every night, and still a year to go. Does Dr. Albrecht really think he's doing any good? Nobody takes the therapy workbook seriously, it's just a lot of psycho-babble. And all that talk about "cognitive distortion" and "age-inappropriate projection" - half the guys in there don't even know what the words mean and the other half are just as bored as I am. Rehabilitation, shit! It's just another eighteen fucking months tacked on to our sentences, that's all it is. We're out of jail but the boredom keeps on going.

His apartment was two blocks from the bus stop, not too bad, at least not in the summer - the winter was probably going to be a different story. And the neighborhood was run-down, but this was the only place he was able to find - the better areas were either too expensive or were off-limits to him because of his record. Who knew there were so many schools and playgrounds in the city? Maybe when he found a better job he'd have enough money for a better place.

So, he thought as he turned the corner onto his street, what'll it be tonight? Ramen noodles or mac and cheese?. Then some jacking off to the Penthouse he found in a trash can in the park. Doesn't get any better than that, he said sarcastically under his breath. Sounds like a plan, sounds like a plan.

His apartment was in the basement of a tenement that was accessed via a rickety staircase descending below-ground to a door on the side of the building, next to a cracked asphalt driveway. You wouldn't have known there was an apartment there except for the handwritten name tag in a plastic sleeve tacked to the house at the top of the stairs: "Wilcox, T."

As he made his way wearily down the driveway towards the stairs something caught his eye in the leaves and scattered trash in the untrimmed hedge that formed the boundary with the neighboring property. Curious, he walked over to what turned out to be a tan manila envelope that stood out from the refuse around it because it was obviously new and unsoiled. Somebody must have dropped it, he thought. Dropped it today - pretty sure it wasn't here this morning. He bent down and picked it up, turned it over. No address, no writing at all, held closed just by the little metal wing clasp through a hole in the flap, no adhesive. He looked around, saw no one. Wouldn't hurt to take a look, I suppose; maybe see who lost it. Walking towards the stairs he carefully bent back the clasp and opened the flap, then gently parted the sides of the envelope to take a peek inside. His eyes opened wide and he stopped in his tracks. Looking around again anxiously, he held the envelope against his stomach to hide it and quickly descended the stairs.

When he was inside his apartment he locked the door and brought the envelope to his one table, in the living room area, and removed its contents. He could now see clearly what he had seen only dimly outside in the dwindling twilight: it was a picture of a girl with blond hair and bare feet standing with her back to the camera, wearing a green sundress. Her face couldn't be seen, but she was reaching behind her to lift the hem of the dress up to reveal her panties: pink cotton bikinis, very tight and thin, showing off one of the most delectable little bubble-butts he'd ever seen! The envelope contained a sheaf of a dozen pictures, printed on photo-paper with a good computer printer. He hastily glanced through the collection - they were all of a girl or girls wearing masks, crazy-looking masks with feathers, and from picture to picture they took off their clothes until they were wearing nothing but tiny little panties and the feather masks.

What the hell? Troy thought. Who ... did a photographer lose these, or ... did somebody lose his porn collection? He was immediately fearful - a trap, maybe? Could somebody be watching to see if I'll break the terms of my parole? There hadn't been anyone on the street, it had been deserted ... but still, I'd better get rid of these right now! He began hastily stuffing the pictures back in the envelope but then paused to stare down at the image of a girl sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up and her hands holding them spread wide apart. The mask covered the upper part of her face, but he could see blue eyes twinkling and a tongue sticking out at him. As he stared between her legs, mesmerized by what he could just barely see showing through the tight fabric of her pink panties, his erection rapidly grew to an almost painful stiffness in the confines of his jeans.

All thoughts of dinner left his mind and the Penthouse was instantly displaced by what was infinitely more exciting for him. Almost in a trance he prepared for an evening of sweet pleasure: his cock was going to be teased and pampered by naughty girls who had fallen on feathery wings from the sky.

*****

He was able to last an hour before he finally gave in and jerked himself to the sweetest orgasm he'd had since getting out of prison. To give himself freedom to use both hands he'd propped up all twelve pictures against books and other odd objects arranged on the table, then he'd pulled his recliner chair around to face them. With his pants off and his legs spread wide he gazed at the pictures in sequence, sighing and moaning while he watched two tempting girls slowly take off their clothes as he carefully teased his penis, gently fondling it and pleasuring it, edging it to just short of climax and holding it suspended there. His cock was hugely erect, rising stiffly upward in a backward-curving arc, its shaft throbbing with a network of pulsing veins, its purple head shining and engorged with lust.

He had no idea where these pictures had come from and he no longer cared - two tantalizing girls, a blonde and a brunette, were deliberately teasing him with their maddening young bodies, that's all that mattered. They wore masks - those funny feather masks - but he could tell they were pretty young, more and more as they took off their clothes. The blonde especially - ohhh her tender little tits, sweet little cones with pink tips - and the brunette, she was a little older maybe, her tits were big and full, mmmmm, so luscious with puffy nipples, God he would love to suck on them! And their panties - the little witches, teasing him so much, they wouldn't take off their tight little panties, just posed with their legs spread, cute little camel toes, sticking their tongues out at him, he wanted so much to see their little cunnies, but no, they wouldn't let him see their little pussies, ohhhh what little cock teasers!

For a full hour he moaned and twisted in his chair, driving his cock wild with stroking and fondling, leading it to the brink of orgasm and then stopping just before it could come, over and over, until finally he wasn't able to resist any longer: his right hand jerked rapidly up and down his shaft while with the left he fondled his balls, and then cried out in wailing ecstasy as his semen shot high into the air and fell back onto his chest and dribbled down his cock onto his hands. Gasping with voluptuous pleasure he rubbed it over the head of his bucking prick and twisted his fist around the rim to suck from it the last throbbing thrills of pleasure. He hadn't had anything so good in so long, maybe ever; jerking to pictures of old whores had been the best he could do for months, but these girls ... oh my God!

Troy's basement apartment had two ground-level windows that were high on the back wall, one in the living room and another in his bedroom. In his excitement he didn't notice two faces peeking in the living room window, faces that had watched raptly from his first touch right through to his final spasms.

(To be continued ...)