“Unhook her bra!” you’ll shout at the young couple walking hand in hand in the park. You’ll be crouched behind a bush, your pants around your ankles, watching them walk on the breezy fall evening. “Or at least cup her titty!”
The young man will look at the young woman, who will shrug. “New York, right?” she’ll say, and he’ll laugh.
“I guess so,” he’ll say back before grabbing her titty and massaging it. She’ll beam back at him and it’ll be obvious that they’re a young couple in love with a private, secure romance that you can’t touch. Or so they’ll think.
“Awwwww yeahhhh,” you’ll say as you rub your erection, still covered by your briefs, against the bush. “That’s the stuff.”
The young couple will look at you and finally realize just what you’re doing. They’ll shake their heads and trudge off into the night, ashamed that they were party to your peeping.
When they get home they’ll sleep on opposite ends of the bed from one another. They won’t touch, or even consider touching, during the night. Instead they’ll just lay there and stare at the ceiling, wondering if you’ve somehow corrupted their love.
The next day they’ll forgo their normal sex shower. They’ll skip right to eggs, which will be good, but not as good. The young woman’s smile will be a little weaker, the young man’s gait a little less confident.
You, you’ll just go back to the underpass you use for sleeping and pee all over yourself. Then you’ll rub your pee into your own skin, groaning as you do so. The homeless people around you will know better than to ask you to stop. They know that if they respond they’ll just encourage you, and that’s no good for anyone.
Congratulations Very Vocal Pervert!
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