My Pet Pervert

During a recent trip to Gourmet Burger with Boyfriend, I noticed a face at a nearby table. I recognised this man’s face from my gym days. The guy at the table was the man I had branded “Pervy French Guy”. Pervy French Guy used to ogle me at every opportunity he could. He would stare and look me up and down. He is creepy. His perviness reached its peak one evening in the dressing room, when he stripped off to his starkers and sat in front of me. The changing room was full to capacity. I could go nowhere. I held back vomit and whimpered. He continued to stare intensely as I did my best to change behind a towel. He enjoyed the peep show. That evening, at home I moaned to Boyfriend. I intended to complain to the management of the gym that Pervy French Guy had exceeded his quota of tolerable perving. When I think back, I can’t recall if I complained or not. It’s definitely something I would have no issue in doing.

So there sat Pervy French guy only feet from me in Gourmet Burger. There he sat stuffing his pervy French face with his pervy French fries. So that is what perverts eat, I thought. They obviously require a high carbohydrate diet to maintain high energy levels for perving. His companion looked normal and did not appear to have any amount of creepiness about him. I felt like informing his companion of the extent of his friend’s perviness, but I didn’t want to interrupt some sort of pervert’s committee meeting. I shivered in remembrance of the time he and I spent together in the gym, which I am no longer a member of. I did my best not to allow his presence put me off my food. I identified him to Boyfriend who strained his memory to recall Pervy French guy.

“Yeah, you see the weird looking guy with the beady eyes three tables down on your right. That’s Pervy French guy! Do you remember me talking of him? He was the guy in the gym that use to perv on me. Do you remember him? Is he looking at me?” I quizzed Boyfriend. I did my best to be discrete.

“No, he is not looking at you,” answered Boyfriend.

“He was the one that always stared at me. He just looked over and saw me. Is he looking now?”

“Nope. He is still not looking at you”

“He’s not looking at me? What the fuck is his problem? Does he think I’ve gotten fat since I quit the gym? Am I not good enough to perv on any more? Screw him!”

“Yeah,” replied Boyfriend. “Don’t worry. You can do so much better than him.”

“I can so do better than him,” I consoled myself. “You’re right.”


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