Perfection & Hips

He was walking a quick pace when he spotted it. One-two, one-two, one-two, dodge the mark on the concrete, one-two, around the kid and one-two down the rest of the busy high street. One-two round the corner and steer round the pram. One-two, one-two, one-two; the pattern of a business man on a tight schedule, or a hurried mother dragging reluctant kids behind her. One-two, one-

One, one, two. Jack stopped on the centre of the sidewalk and stared. He watched as the man in blue overalls dumped a box beside the object which caught his attention and disappeared back into the shop. Jack sidled up to the pile of cardboard boxes and old clothes racks, and reached out, with one hand; a finger. He stroked down the arm of the smooth body and marvelled at the silent stillness of the body as it lay in one of the busiest streets in a naturally busy city. People walked past without a backwards glance, just another nut job amongst many. Daring courage built up in his chest, and Jack risked a glance down to the face, swallowing his admiration and barely containing his urge to run his fingers all over the mannequin’s plastic body.

No-one had noticed him, and half the thrill was in being discovered, wasn’t it? Jack flicked his wrist and his palm framed the artificial cheek, pressing deep along the object’s skin. He allowed himself to rub at the plastic; to work up a friction and it was all too much. He could feel the solidness of the plastic and the supple bend of the limbs and he was arching hip his out slightly and parting his lips. No, not in public. But yes, yesss, because he was already imagining the feel of sliding his skin against the perfect body and rubbing himself against the length of the body.

His footsteps were coming even faster now. Hurry, hurry. He refused to meet the eyes of people on the street and almost barged into his front door without opening it. “Shit!” he launched into his narrow hallway and dropped the plastic bulk onto the old carpet without much regret. Jack scooped it up once the door was closed, although his arms were sore from the journey over.

In his bedroom, Jack shirked his shirt off and watched the mannequin on the bed with lust filled eyes. His gaze raked up the naked body and took in all of its features; from the smooth neutrality of the lower half to the strong thighs and stiff chest. Running one hand up the cold arm, Jack let out a stuttering sigh. He was half hard in his shorts and he wasted no time in removing the rest of his clothes. Shuddering, he ran the tips of his fingers up the cool body and let his head drop back as he began to stroke himself to full hardness. With his eyes on the mannequin Jack pictured himself placing sloppy kisses on smooth skin and pressing his nose against the curve of his neck.

He cannot hold himself together for much longer. The sharp tug in his gut, pulled him down onto the bed and on top of the man. “Ahh,” he moaned, breath catching in his throat with excitement as he shoved his shorts down forcefully. A hand on each thigh, directing them into place so they were firm against his cock. His hips jerked forwards; he shifted his balance to pull the thighs closer together as he did and kind of squeezed as he did (that was uncomfortable with the plastic, he noted, not again). The small of his back ached with each movement and Jack was pretty sure his muscles were not supposed to do that.

But in the semi-asleep haze of the afterglow, Jack couldn’t care less.