When an eight or nine year old girl wears one of those thinnish cotton dresses– no ruffles, no flairs– just a simple, classic dress– and it just kinda lays with that relaxed not-quite-tight smoothness across the round of her stomach and down her sides. Massive turn on for me. Seeing her twist, bend, or squirm– I can’t help it. Like– I don’t literally want to have s** with a child– but I want to have s** with the abstract ideas of what she’s wearing and how it fits her. I know that doesn’t make sense– but it’s the closest I can come to describing the feeling. Just like when a female of ANY age does certain types of laughter– I don’t necessarily wanna have s** with who’s laughing– even if they’re a full grown adult. Rather, I wanna have s** with the SOUND of their laugh. Like, if that sound– or the look of the little girl’s dress on her stomach– had a living form of their own, I would attack that being like a rabid animal until I had nothing left– and then go for a good while after I didn’t– and then lock right back on as soon as I had the slightest bit of energy again. It’s like some random, abstract things just kick some raw nerve in my head somewhere– and that nerve just wants everything at once– S**/EAT/PLAY/ATTACK/PROTECT just ALL of it in one big, hard lurching rush– and to just never stop. Like a scrambled, mixed signal that kicks a hot spark somewhere inside me. And no, I don’t mean “eat” literally– but I want to bite/lick/chew ECT, not like hurting and drawing blood– but like just being overcome with all of your favorite tastes and textures at once– like it’s just tied in with the sparking nerve. While I obviously know better than to release most of these mental spasms into real life, except for very limited exceptions– no matter WHAT the cause– and several of my triggers come from little girls– there’s just no possible way to stop that raw internal nerve spark kick thing.