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Molly in a schoolgirl uniform

Uniform, see, the word itself just screams to me of conformity and that just puts my back up. The notion that I should dress in a way that makes me indistinguishable from everyone else. That just doesn’t work for me.

I know, I can almost hear you thinking “But Michael, you wear jeans and a Tshirt all of the time, isn’t that a uniform?” and maybe it is, but it is a remnant of my youth and the hippie culture that was part of my teen years. So my favorite pair of jeans is the ones that have acquired character, the ones that are ripped and torn and tell a story of the things we have been through.

But if you want me to dress as a policeman or soldier or (shudder) a businessman, then the only person that is going to turn on, is you. I just don’t get the appeal, it could be anyone wearing the uniform so what do you need me for?

On the flip side of the coin there are certain uniforms that work for me when I think about Molly. You know what, now that I stop and think about it for a minute there really is only one. The school girl uniform. That does work for me. I am sure it goes back to my youth as well, because no one could subvert something that was not supposed to be sexy better than a Catholic School girl. They would unbutton that white blouse just one button more that was proper  and roll up that skirt until a slight breeze would lift it to give a glimpse of their panty clad bottoms.

Sorry.. I drifted off in reverie for a moment, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah, uniforms. Beyond that one I really can’t imaging asking Molly to put on a nurses uniform or a maid’s uniform and not just giggling at the whole idea.

And for me I would much rather be the dirty pervert groundkeeper that dragged her into the boiler room than the Headmaster wearing his school tie.

So I guess I will just have to keep on being a plainclothes perv.

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