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I used to love staring at the girls' thongs in high school during class. I noticed that I saw the most thongs in middle school, the next most in high school, and then the least in college. You would probably think that it would be the other way around but alas, only women know why they do what they do. I could probably speak at length about my experiences with looking at girls' thongs while going through each year of school.
Every guy reading this knows that it was just too much all at once for us teenage boys to handle. Going through puberty, being horny as fuck, and developing sexual and romantic feelings for girls that used to have cooties was intensely interesting and enjoyable at the time. For the girls to then place their newfound sexuality right there in our faces in school each day by wearing thongs was just incredible. Sadly, the proliferation of thongs did not continue unabated up through college and they went the way of the dinosaur, the bald eagle, and boy bands as far as sightings were concerned.
If you really needed a fix, you could always go to the catholic school dances each Friday night where all of the out-of-control 7th grade girls from my town and the town over would flood the gym with their thongs, lip gloss, and spaghetti straps on. The chaperones never used to check for butt cheek bifurcation or say much about their dress code and wouldn't kick the girls out for acting like they were auditioning for the latest Juvenile video (something that I was totally fine with). Along with the boys in their cargo shorts, puka shell and rope necklaces, and a Quicksilver or Billabong tee from Pac Sun, Saint Jude's gym on those nights could make a coke-fueled Saturday night at Studio 54 look like Tuesday night bingo at my town's retirement community.
The girls that would go on to have some issues in high school and then into adult life were always the first ones to start flossing their bums in the middle of Language Arts and Spanish. The guys all hated the days when they had gym because that was No Thong Day and it sucked. But as I was saying, what I really loved about 4th period Spanish in 7th and 8th grades were the nacho and sombrero Fridays, the future slutty girls wearing all sorts of thongs each week, and all of the naughty Spanish words that me and my friends would learn from one of our Mexican friends who sat with us at the back of the class so we could have primo seats for scoping out the thong-wearers.
Me and all of my friends reached the consensus that they were the hottest girls in school and that this would never change. How wrong we were. Once the other girls who played sports, sat straight in their seats, and played the clarinet started to bloom in the 8th and 9th grade, it was a whole new ball game and I was like Billy fucking Bean with my attention to detail and change in my school's fairer sex.
By the time I was an upperclassman in high school, both groups of girls started to dial things down though you would see more of the latter group rocking thongs in classes where they had guys they liked, or at house parties where some hotties would wear them for the bros they wanted to get with while carrying more tame undies in their bags to change into since some of their moms were as up their asses about their outfits as their thongs were. This remained the common theme through high school and sightings weren't as often in class or even outside of it.
Once I got to college, girls were more exclusive with whom they shared their love of anal floss with and their undies were mostly kept out of the public eye. I guess that it was too good to be true. None of us guys had to actually do anything other than ignore our teachers' lectures and stare at the girls' thongs like Homer Simpson staring at and salivating over The Forbidden Donut. Some days you would get lucky enough to see a girl rocking a thong with those tight, belly-showing, really short-sleeved tee shirts and you would get a double whammy of firm, shapely sideboob and a G-string popping out of a pair of faded Levis. Sadly, if something is too good to be true then it usually is.
Once college life started, you had to actually make girls want to take their pants off in front of you and show you that black beauty that they were advertising for you during biochemistry that day. The days of innocent and free thong admiration were gone and the dawn of more intimate and varied thong exploring was upon us young males, for better or worse. It was very much a bittersweet transition for me and probably for other guys as well.
For whatever reason, thong-watching was a major part of growing up as a guy. I wonder if it was as interesting a spectacle for others as it was for me. Sadly, like a beautiful butterfly, the thongs would only stay within your adolescent life for so long before spreading their wings and flying away, out of sight but never out of mind. The joy of thong-watching in both solitude and in the company of other horny teenage boys was ephemeral. Despite such a fleeting yet distinctly memorable chapter of my life, I suppose that it is better to have stared and admired the thong and the youthful and pretty girls that wore them than to have never admired at all...
