The idea made me hot. I really am a watcher, a voyeur sometimes.I walked up and asked her to dance. She smiled at me as she took my offered hand and I...think I fell in love. Her face lit up when she smiled. Her beautiful brown eyes twinkled, she flashed a perfect set of white teeth as her face broke into that wonderful contagious smile. I smiled back and felt inadequate.We danced a slow one sort of loosely connected as we talked. I learned she was a senior too. her home town, her parents name. The end always came when I could no longer contain the hardness of mylittle penis inside the tight panties and I would lay on my mother's bedto masturbate.The images that ran through my mind as I pleasured myself were alwayssimilar. Sometimes I imagined that I was an underwear model marching infront of a crowd that looked at me with admiration and desire, but most ofthe times I dreamed that I was my own mother. I imagined myself walkingaround the house half-naked like she used to, or sunbathing. More

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