Here is an excerpt about what seeing particular women does to my thinking:
I see the sporty woman. She jogs past me. The sweat on her neck sparkles. I wish I could taste it. Her ponytail flops behind her, waving at me; taunting me. I wish I could pull it while riding her outstanding body from behind, but I don’t deserve the opportunity. Her ear buds block out the unpleasantries around her. In the summer, her skimpy shorts reveal her toned legs. I want to trace the contours of those legs. I wish I could touch her. I dwell on how her skin might feel. In the winter, her tights crawl up into her sweaty ass. I envy those tights. I want to eat that sweaty ass. I imagine how great her pussy must smell. As she strides away, I picture her stopped and bent over, catching her breath at the end of her run. I see her stretching and taking gulps of cool, replenishing water. I see her peeling off her tight clothes in her living room. I see her climbing into her shower. I think about soaping up her powerful body and feeling her fit heart beating against my hand. I stare at the sidewalk knowing I’ll never be invited to join her.
I see the tall woman. I can’t handle her. Nothing I could offer her would be enough. I’m inadequate to women of average height. I’m a joke to her. She’s either a goddess or a demon to me. She’s an exaggeration. She doesn’t exist to me as a possibility, but more as a wonder of nature. The curves of her body go on forever. I can’t imagine actually having sex with her. Instead, imagine scaling her like a cliff. She has so much to explore. Sometimes I want her to hold me down and so she can do whatever she wants with me. I want her to humiliate me. Other times I want to marvel at her. I want to come on as many parts of her as I can. I see myself sniveling apologetically as I clean my pathetic loads off her magnificent slopes.
I see the tiny woman. When I see her, I fool myself into thinking she might be okay with me because she’s small and I’m small. Then I see her with her boyfriend. I hear her little voice as they walk into their apartment together. I imagine that voice saying filthy things to him later. I hear her squeaking as she rides him. I want to put my hands around that barely-there waist. I want to feel her pelvic bone. Sometimes I don’t like when prostitutes touch me. Sometimes trying to fuck them is demanding because they’re too big and I’m too small. Not so with the tiny woman. I could be a stud with her. I could be life-sized. She isn’t. Her jacket looks like it belongs on a doll. Her clothing looks like it would fit children. I long to peel off her size-zero panties. Everything about her makes her a toy version of a woman. I love this. I love when her little legs scurry across the street to beat a changing light. I love when she passes me, taking twice as many steps as I take. I love how alert she looks, almost the way a nervous prey animal appears. I want to know what my cock would look like in her doll-like hand.
I see the religious woman. She guides me to the filthiest corners of my mind. I see her selling pastries at a farmer’s market downtown. She wears her ankle-length floral dress and her lace hair net. I imagine watching the first time she drops that dress to the floor. I imagine her unbrushed mouse-brown hair falling out of that bun. I want to teach her how to give a blowjob, if she doesn’t already know. I can’t decide if I want to watch her practice on a crucifix or my cock. I want to come in that hair net and make her put it on again. When I leave the market, I see another religious woman, though one bound by a different faith. She hides more of herself, sometimes covering her body in an abaya, but other times simply tucking her hair into a hijib. I love when she wears the hijib while also wearing skin-tight jeans and a figure-hugging jacket. I want her to go down on me while wearing that hijib. I want her to keep it on while she strips off those jeans, gets on her hands and knees, and presents her halal pussy to me. I want her to use the hijib to wipe my semen from her chin after we finish. I just want her.