Why couldn’t I be normal and like to watch chicks spanking each other or something? I mean, I did like that, but… Below guys who were into really fat chicks and amputees, but above the furverts and people who like to be peed on. I figured being a teen cross dresser was about halfway on the pervert scale. I flicked off Miss January and sifted through the many websites that I didn’t dare bookmark. Once people realized they no longer had to receive mail in plain brown envelopes, everyone got online.
Sure, you can instantly play chess with a South African researcher at an Antarctic lab, but the real reason the net was developed was pornography. And maybe have her do my hair and makeup.Įveryone has their fetishes, I guess. It’s just that I would have asked to try on her clothes afterwards. I was a sixteen-year-old dude, first and foremost. In the highly unlikely event of internet girl ripping off her clothes in front of me, I would have jumped on top of her in a second. Realizing that my thoughts had once again entered dangerous territory, I began rhythmically tapping the space bar with my forehead. I would have done just about anything to get into her skirt. I looked at the pixilated bimbo on my computer screen, with her blond hair, long legs, and cartoonish chest. Copyright 2011, Brian Katcher, do not repost without permission. This was the alternate story I submitted to the ‘Awake’ project.
