Abigail’s Pet Project

I saw a soccer girl, around eighteen or nineteen, who was so attractive I had to laugh and shake my head. I saw three other men, probably fathers, the pervs, grinning to themselves.
Looking at her, I was thinking, oh come on, I’m just trying to walk my dog through the park like I always do and now I have to deal with this … oh man

She was, I’d say, a hispanic girl with long black hair up in a pony tail with a dark pink scrunchy, and tanned, almost glowing skin. She was it seemed actually a soccer player, she looked fit enough and was there warming up with her teammates. She was athletic without being lean, strong without being muscled, and most engaging of all she smiled so much as she kept a ball aloft, chatting with her friends - a happy hot girl. What’s not to like about that?. And on her, a tight white capped sleeve tshirt, with a white sports bra clearly visible beneath - most obviously the repository for a couple of modest-scale but perfectly proportioned beauties - and bright red cloth shorts, black soccer socks, black soccer boots. The shorts were genuine sports shorts, but also were genuine short shorts, with something written across the ass, just so you have to keep looking at it to figure out what the hell it says in case it’s something rude. Like, “I’m 18 and love older men, they can fuck me in my amazing ass. Anytime.”. You never know. Ah-may-zing ass. So much so that my eyes kept tearing up and I never did figure out what her ass was trying to tell me.
She was off the scale. So far off the scale that I wasn’t thinking about fucking her. As far as I got was going, “oh my, oh mmmm, damn, wow, oh my, mmmm”.

In my head.

I hope.

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