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Secret worshipIt’s got to be secret hasn’t it? You can hardly go up to a girl and tell Her, can you? The conversation would go like this:“Hullo Miss, you don’t know me, but I‘ve been worshipping you for some time. I’m not making a pass, that’s not what I do. I’m just a wanker, I only look at girls, I don’t do dating or anything like that, in fact I’m amazed I’m talking to you as usually I’m too bashful and tongue-tied, specially when it comes to girls I worship so much, like I do you.“I’m not sure what else to say, uhm, I do these sheets with your name on and say all sorts of things about what you make me do, like the other day, you were sitting in the canteen in one of your lovely short skirts and all I could do was gaze at you till you made me cum in my pants, I hope it’s ok to tell you that. “I’d love to be your servant, your slave, and do your bidding. All I’d need in return is to be able to look at you, look at you long enough for you to make me spunk in my pants, I wouldn’t need you to show anything, just wear one of your nice outfits. Do you go clubbing at all Miss? I expect you do. I’d love to know where you go in the evening so I could be standing there is my dirty rainmac, and spunk my pants watching you walk by. Would that be ok Miss, beautiful Miss, Girlie-Goddess?!”Doesn’t sound very appealing, does it?! God if I’d done that at school my life would have been hell. At work? Ostracised, sacked, certainly humiliated. In the 60s and 70s being a ‘wanker’ was not something anyone admitted to, and you would certainly have been shunned by all. Don’t get me wrong – I would have loved to have said those things to a goddess, if I was sure it wouldn’t offend or upset Her, and back then that would probably be enough to make me cum in my pants by itself. Nowadays maybe anything goes but in the 60s and 70s it did not, and in any case talking like that to a girl in an office in 2019 is not exactly the done thing is it? So all my worship in the early days was secret. Miss Wendy was the first girl I worshipped, She was lovely and once I saw Her put on a show for the boys, stocking-tops and a hint of knickers. I was lucky enough to see Her from my window on two occasions, and spunk watching Her walk along. I could never tell Her of course. I wanked on all the girls at school, noting every day what they wore, what they said, and pleasuring myself every night thinking about them, and then oh, the delicious guilt and humiliation when I had to face them the next day. Lovely.I spent most evenings hanging out my window watching girls go by, and was lucky enough to see girls from school sometimes. So I started girl-worship young, pendik escort 14 or 15 I was. How secret is it? My obsession with particular girls at work might have compromised that in one or two cases. Seeing blonde Goddess Miss Jacquie sitting in Her office meant I was always ogling through the window, once long enough to cum in my pants. Her friends noticed me but Miss Jacquie never seemed to, and if I walked past Her in the corridor She never looked at me, like I didn’t exist. I was lucky enough to be able to watch Her from a window on two occasions, once spunking into the front of my rainmac as She walked by – Her friend noticing me! – and another doing it in my pants, no rubbing required in either case. Her friends obviously realised about my obsession even if Miss Jacquie didn’t, but I’d like to think She did. One of my wet dreams was asking Her for a photo! I once walked past Her in the corridor, seeing Her enter it at the other end and walk towards me in a tight jumper, bulging like a wanker’s dream – and I’m a wanker! I gawped at Her lovely big bosoms and then fell over my feet! I guess She must have known how I felt about Her. Miss Rosie was another girl who had me enthralled from the moment She started work there. I had the perviest wank-orgies about Her and then the loveliest feelings of perviness, uselessness and lowliness seeing Her the next day. She wore lovely short skirts and my opportunity came one day when I was given a task that meant She was in sight for an hour or so. As She sat at Her desk in Her short skirt, Her knix showed every now and then when She moved while I gawped from my seat, my face eventually burning red, like the tip of my knob, until I was bouncing up and down in my seat as She made me joyfully and gratefully pump my underpants full of spunk. I don’t think She ever realised, and there were other girls at that place that made me rub into perv ecstasy night after night, but whether they ever realised they had me spellbound I don’t know. Maybe seeing the way I looked at them gave a clue, and when I had to deliver something to them or whatever, I could tell from their offhand approach, not giving me the time of day, that they knew I was different to other blokes. There was one place I worked for quite a long time, and that’s when you can get a reputation – weirdo, creep, funny bloke, etc – although I never did anything nasty, spied on girls or anything like that. I guess it’s just the way I couldn’t help looking when they wore revealing outfits, which in the 70s was miniskirts and minidresses. If I wasn’t careful I could go into a ‘trance’ watching, kağıthane escort like that time when Miss Jane’s minidress was so short I could see nearly all the way to Her knix, and it wasn’t until I heard muffled laughter and realised that other girls in the office were nudging each other and pointing at me that I snapped out of it. I also often came back with ‘dirty’ magazines from the local shops and thought if I put them in a folder no-one would notice. But of course when everyone knows you’re a wanker it doesn’t take much working out what I’m up to. Especially when I disappear into the toilets for half an hour and come back red-faced. There were a couple of embarrassing moments when I was challenged by one of the secretaries, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t to do with that, She didn’t actually know what I was doing, but looking back it’s obvious everyone did, and now I love that memory. Yes girls, I AM a wanker, a big wanker!It’s just as well I wore overalls because the times I sat in the canteen, seeing lovely girls in their miniskirts showing their knix, and going back to work with wet pants. Miss Linda and Miss Lynn made me do that several times. Miss Jo worked in the same office as Miss Jacquie and She was a bosomy Goddess too. I had the great good fortune to overhear where She and some of the other girls were going to be that evening, and made sure I was there in my mac in good time. If She was sexy at work that was nothing compared to seeing Her going clubbing, and ohh, when you’ve worshipped a girl so fervently for months, now at last being able to see Her in all Her loveliness, short short skirt and top bulging, I only needed to look at Her and the cum was pumping into my pants. One of the girls noticed me in my mac and did a double take – hey, was that the perv from the stores, the creep who’s always ogling, looking like a dirty old man in his rainmac? Fortunately the other girls were too busy chatting to hear what She was saying and I got away with it. A lot of the time I worshipped girls I didn’t know, like when I went mac-wanking or parking up overlooking the beach. When I watched girls from my window or through the fence, I did see girls who walked past frequently, so I worshipped them regularly, even though usually I didn’t know their names. But when it’s a neighbour, like Miss Eliza, who I saw a couple of times in Her garden in Her bikini, though I never talked to Her, I did pass Her in the street and I know I always looked guilty. Miss Jenny was another Goddess I worshipped, seeing Her doing yoga in Her back maltepe escort garden. I had a camcorder by then and it’s so lovely being about to go back to that time and again, Her in Her skimpy outfit then down to the shots of spunk cumming out my penis, then back up to Her. I DON’T spy on girls, I saw Miss Jenny by accident while I was working on this guys fence, and once I’d seen Her, I was powerless to stop ogling Her and going into perv ecstasy – sorry Miss Jenny – and it was sheer fluke I had my camcorder but back then I wanted to film my projects to try and get more work. When I was doing deliveries I got to see some people every week, or even several times a week, and even though they think I’m painfully shy they pass the time of day. Miss Deborah was a Goddess I was very fond of, She was so bosomy and pretty and always vivacious, and I’d chant the perviest things as I rubbed myself into perv ecstasy thinking about Her every night, and then loved it so much the next day when I was in Her presence, flushing up and looking at the ground in guilt and shame and delicious humiliation of knowing I was a pervert and what She made me do. I wonder if She knew?It never occurred to me that I would be able to worship a Goddess openly. I was very naive back then, years before the Internet. I knew nothing about women and there still seemed to be this gulf between the girls that posed nude and ‘ordinary’ girls – there’s nothing ordinary about girls. I did know about things like Aunty Jayne’s seminars, and I’d got pics from those in Escort magazine, particularly Miss Donna Ambrose, but I’d never be able to go to anything like that, and the blokes that did would only take photos, there’d be no worship as such. Looking at ‘ordinary’ girls, which was what I’d always done, was something you had to be careful about or you’d get into trouble. I never dreamed I’d ever get to worship in person, and that happened more or less by accident. Now of course I’ve worshipped 6 girls in person, even spunking my pants openly in front of Miss Lisa. But I still worship secretly, since any lovely girl who wears nice outfits will have me spellbound instantly. With modern phones I can even get video of some of the girls I worship secretly nowadays. A friend recently gave me the idea of searching social media for photos of girls I know of. Worshipping in person is unbelievably lovely, the best experiences of my life, being able to be completely open about my worship and really being able to tell your Goddess how much She excites you, what She makes you do. But there’s still something special about secretly worshipping the girl who works in the local shop, looking forward to seeing what She’s wearing today, going bashful and lowering your eyes when She talks to you, when She turns round to get something off the shelf having a quick rub of your already-stiff penis. And later that day jerking up and down on your knob and chanting Her name. It’s true worship and I LOVE it.

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