I have a small pool behind my house with a rather large fence. The fence is there because my friends and I like to enjoy my pool sans suits. (And while the males of the neighborhood don’t seem to mind, the ladies are of a different mind!) Like a lot of privacy fences, it serves its purpose unless someone REALLY wants to see…someone like the perv.
It was a hot July afternoon and I was enjoying margaritas by the pool (along with two redheads I met in class) when I heard this…wheezing sound. The last time I heard a sound like that it was coming out of my Uncle’s fat daschund as it begged me for a bite of sausage! I looked around but couldn’t figure out where the sound had come from. It seemed to have stopped, so I concentrated on the flavor of one of the redhead’s lipgloss. (I think it was strawberry smoothie!)
She was a yummy little thing as was the other one (black raspberry in case you’re wondering) and we were having a fabulous time. Then came the wheezing again. WTF?!! I took off my sunglasses and looked closely at the fence. All I saw was a blur of blue. I was having too much fun to chase after him, so I let it go.
That evening I had Slut Puppy Aaron set up a small spycam along the fence line where the strange wheezing had come from. I knew that whoever had been peeking that day would surely be back for more. I didn’t really expect him to be back the next day or anything. I thought he’d have more self-control than that. I was wrong.
I was alone by the pool that day, just enjoying the sun and the feel of the oil as it warmed on my skin. As I rubbed the oil in I was remembering the day before and how much fun we’d had. I swear I thought I was remembering a bit too vividly when I first heard that damn wheezing again. Then I realized the little peeking perv was back.
“Quit being a pussy and show yourself.” I demanded. Nothing. But the wheezing stopped. “Look. See up there? I’ve got you on cam. You need to come in NOW if you don’t want the world to know what a little pervert you are. You’ve got three seconds. Threeeee, Twoooo…”
With that, the door squeeked open and there he was in all his glory; the perv. You could almost feel sorry for him. Standing there in his ridiculous postman’s uniform with the knee high socks, the bad comb-over and his little pecker trying to peek out of his pants. Almost. I got up and slowly pulled a wrap around myself. I wanted him to hear everything I had to say. After all, he was about to be owned by a bratty teenage domme. His world was about to change, forever. (to be continued)
Your favorite Angel (Brat!)
~Cassidy
1-800-To Flirt Ext. 0344-6275
http://www.niteflirt.com/Princess%20Angel%20Brat
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