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Chapter 28 by Minski Minski

How do you treat a creepy photgrapher?

Give him a show

You turn towards him, look him straight in the eyes and life your skirt. His mouth falls open and his eyes stare at you widely. Gotta be the first time any of his models actually poses.

“You should shut your mouth little man, there a lot of bugs flying around. Also - are you going to take a picture or not? I won't stand like this all day, you never know what pervs come along and see you in parks like this!”

You wink and he almost drops his phone when he tries to focus it on your panties and push the button.

“I assume you don’t have many frontal views in your collection, have ya? Just sneaky shots from the back, the wank bank of peepers. Here, have a look.”

You lift your top.

“This is what a real woman in underwear looks like from the front. Wanna see more?”

He sweats profusely and nods, while taking pictures furiously.

"OK little one. Not on the middle of the way, though!”

You turn around and walk into the bushes a little off, waving him to follow you. For a second you hesitate to go into the bushes with a strange pervert. But you giggle and move on. You know the type. Creepy little freaks who watch because they wouldn't dare to to speak to a woman OR **** themselves upon her. Men are pathetic.

You freeze for moment, again. Then hey are you giving him what he wants?

You blush. You know the type because you used to be the type - a pathetic little man. More or less. More a voyeur than a hands on man. This would have made your week two days ago. Also – it doesn't feel bad. Having this little man wrapped around your finger, drooling to get the slightest glimpse of you, feels good. Right. You feel the jewel around your neck giving off a warm feeling. Maybe there's a balance in the universe the old woman's curse set right. You turned from a pathetic little man to a woman who enjoys tormenting pathetic little men. While giving them what they need. If you… when you turn back, you’ll have learned a lot from it for your future life as a man.

Right. Exactly.

When you get to an undisturbed place, you turn around and wriggle out of your bottoms and top. You can see him drooling, the bulge in his pants – notable but not too impressive. You hold out your hands.

Ready for my close-ups, Mr. DeMille.

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