Question. What is a Pervert

"He's a fucking pervert," a friend said to me. "He's trying to look up your skirt."  Why, then, did I take it as a compliment? I have a nice body, curves in all the right places, and places in all the right curves! So this guy was trying to look up my skirt. He wanted to see my panties, or maybe even was hoping to see more than that. So what? I felt amazingly powerful! The first time a much older man looked up my skirt, I remember well. I was 15, just, and sitting on a public green on a hot summer day. I saw him checking me out and I quite deliberately raised my knees, bringing my feet up near my bum, and spread my legs. Unladylike, I know, but fuck, the power of it! I could see him getting a massive hard on and it was me who did that. Me! I wanted someone to look at my crotch, and someone did. Who is to say that it is perverted? Ok. There are people out there who have extreme fetishes. Are they perverted? For me, I love eyes roving over my body. I love having an effect on guys as well as girls. The very first time I caught someone smelling my panties was at school. I was 15, and had asked to come in to the boys changing room and use the toilet. (Always a good excuse for a girl.) We had boys and girls changing rooms of course, but they were next to each other. Sometimes boys would do panty raids and, sometimes, we would raid the boys changing rooms.  This time, I burst into the room to find little Allan, the most harmless boy you could ever wish to meet, just standing there. He had my panties in one hand and his cock in the other. He was well and truly busted. I stopped dead in my tracks and he stopped mid wank! For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. He was shitting himself that I might scream. Instead, I took a breath and said, "Don't stop. I want to see."  He, very slowly, brought my panties back to his face and breathed me in and said, "Fuck, Claire, your cunt smells so nice. I wish, I wish I could smell the real thing." I wasn't ready for that right then but I did say, "You can see it if you like."  I sat near him, pulled my horrid P.E. knickers aside, and showed him what was then a lightly haired virgin quim. He smelled my panties and stared. Then, without asking, he knelt down and leaned forward and smelled me for real. He didn't kiss me or touch me in any way. He just smelled me. That's when I felt a splattering of something on my legs. He stood up, dropped my panties on the bench, and ran for it.  I sat there with his cum running down my calf, and stared at it. So, this was it. This was the stuff that could get me pregnant. It looked white but kind of marbled as well. It also had a metallic tang to its scent. It felt just like egg whites and tasted just a little bit salty. Smelling and tasting it though made my juices flow and I hand to finish myself off. I went back into the girls’ room. In the showers, I felt aroused still. I was also super attentive to what was going on around me. Twenty girls, all naked, showering. Some with their backs to the rest, keeping themselves hidden. Some deliberately pushing their breasts forward to make them look bigger than they were. Two girls, hmmmm yes, two girls had flush marks across their chests and necks. They were taking a long-time soaping between their legs, and were definitely checking the other girls out, including me. As I watched, one of them gasped and turned away. I saw her back shaking and she was breathing in a deep, tremulous way. An orgasm? I think so. Yes, definitely.  Two lesbians in a girls’ shower room. Perverts? No. Just opportunists. If seeing us naked got them off, then good luck to them. If my wet panties got Allan off, good luck to him. I was soon to experience the joys of in-school masturbation myself. And then there was Mr. Jones.  Fuck, he was gorgeous! He was about 24-25 years old, tall, dark hair, and had piercing green eyes. There were a lot of girls, me included, who had fantasies over him. We would talk about him on sleepovers and, more than once, I saw girls getting wet as we talked. One girl claimed to have fucked him; and countless more say he fingered them. I don't think so, but so what? We all knew what we wanted from him. I knew for a fact that if he had ever approached me, I would have put his hand in my panties myself! But, there was one time… I mentioned that the boys went on panty raids sometimes. Mr. Jones was head of PE and had more sessions free than the others. One time, I knew all the boys were out on the sports field because, quite simply, I can count. There were 20 of us girls on the tennis courts, and 25 boys running the track or throwing cricket balls. That meant no-one left indoors.  When we got back in, Jess, one of my friends, hissed at me, "Hey Claire, look at this!" Girls would often try and disgust each other with what we called 'splat pants'. It meant pussy stains, pre-period stains, or anything disgusting, really. But this was different. In the crotch of Jess's panties was a load of sperm. It stretched from the inside of the front, right across the gusset, and up over the back. I told her it was sperm; I even put a finger in it, smelled, and licked it. (I told you we liked to disgust each other!) It was definitely sperm, but somehow stronger than Allan's. During the next lesson, I worked it out. We had two teachers doing tennis skills, and there were three supervising the athletics. That left Mr. Jones alone. It had to be his sperm. Wow! I would have loved to have seen that! Hell, I would have loved to have had him cum in mine! Unlike Jess, who binned hers, I wouldn't have. I would have worn them! That night in bed, I had a lovely wet dream. I was in the showers and Mr. jones walked in. (Oddly, he was fully clean then, but not getting wet under the water. Dreams, huh?) I was covered in soap and water and Mr. Jones calmly took his prick out and told me he wanted to cum on me. The dream let me stick my tummy towards him as he wanked. When he came, his sperm ran down over my tummy and between my legs. He didn't touch me in the dream, but I sure as hell did when I woke up!  Perverted? I think we over-use the word unfortunately. If we overuse words like this, then we devalue them. Let’s save it for the real perverts out there.