Janice wasn't attractive.
She knew this about herself and in a way it defined her. She was worse than plain, she was forgettable. Add to this sad state the fact that she was very shy and you realize you have a recipe for almost never getting laid. And she hadn't.
Her first sexual experience was with a boy who she later found out was going out with her on a bet and had decided to see how far he could go with her on a whim. Her initial resistance had crumbled like a façade and Janice had jumped at the chance to relieve herself of a virginity she'd never thought she'd be able to lose. She'd spent the summer with that boy and had learned much, especially when they went back to school--she had learned how boys will call you a whore at school if you fuck them. She had had little sex since then, long years ago. She was afraid to get to know people and was never at ease around members of the opposite sex. She was wildly sexual in her mind and masturbated frequently, using everything from little bullet vibrators to a monster eight-inch dildo as big around as her forearm. She liked oral, anal, and vaginal (of course), and her toys served her well. Other things they were not well-suited for: hand jobs, blow jobs, warm throbbing spurts of hot salt in her mouth accompanied by moaning and a pulling hand in her hair. When she licked her juice off her fingers, she thought about what it would be like to service another woman like a slave and the thought sent bolts of lust to her pussy. She wouldn't do it given the opportunity, but she knew the opportunity would not come anyway, not for her. Maybe if she were pretty, or interesting, or not terrified of looking like an idiot--
So it cannot be surprising that as she drove home from her Aunt Janice's house--Aunt Janice, for whom she was named--and her mind was preoccupied with sex and romance. This, and every other year, all she'd wanted for Christmas was a boyfriend. One who would make her love all kinds of thrilling and forbidden things. She wanted a man to fuck her in the ass, or to make her suck her own juice from his cock for one split second before it exploded in her mouth, or to eat her pussy.
She thought about the shopping she had yet to do as she absently pressed the crotch of her jeans up against herself and gave a little wiggle that made her gasp. She repeated this again and again before she realized that she was masturbating in the car. She let the seam of the jeans rub her clit through her panties and the heat down there drove her crazy. It was a very short time later that she pulled her car over and stuck her hand down her pants. She spread her legs as wide as she could in jeans and car, slid two fingers into her unwanted pussy and flicked her clit with her thumb. This sent shocks through her and she rubbed her clit with her thumb, sliding the hood over it until she felt herself clench inside, felt her pussy contract and shocks travel the length of her body. Her orgasm rocketed through her and made her throw her head back and moan. It soaked her panties and her fingers and left her breathless but somehow hollow. And then with a quick suck of the fingers she was back on the road and feeling empty, worthless and unlovable.
She was tired of masturbation. She told her friends that she was single by choice but the only men she knew were not interested in her. Nobody was. She didn't go out much because she was afraid of her appearance; she didn't go to clubs because only whores went clubbing without a man or an entourage of female companions. She had tried online dating services but sooner or later they wanted a picture and she was terrified to send one. Masturbation was all she had left and it wasn't really doing it for her anymore, which meant she had nothing.
To keep her maudlin thoughts at bay, she thought back to her aunt's house and the gift-giving between her relatives. She had gotten three bracelets which had gone straight onto her wrists, and a sweater from the depths of Hell that she wouldn't put on a dog. She had gotten a wallet, which she needed, and a pair of wool toe socks, which she didn't. A backpack, which she liked, and a gray plastic windbreaker, which she loathed, but she threw it in the trunk against a sudden shower.
At the sight of the sign for the neighborhood market , she remembered she needed to stop. She pulled into the parking lot and got out, her knees shaking and her belly feeling a bit liquid from her orgasm. when there he was: the Cute Bag Boy, a gorgeous man in his twenties.
Janice thought he was irresistible, and he had starred in more than a few of her masturbatory features of late. He'd started working there a few weeks ago, and each time she saw him Janice was stricken by his beauty and the fit of his jeans. The last time she saw him he'd been idly talking on his cellphone and sporting a huge erection. Her eyes had popped and her poor neglected pussy had cried out in anguish at this Adonis standing there on the front walk of the store and absently rubbing his bulge.
She'd gone home and cruelly raped herself with The Big One, and then lay in bed and cried..
Now, here he was again, his jeans tighter than she thought decent but she didn't mind, of course he wouldn't notice her looking...he never did.
But he did. His head swiveled around and his eyes locked on her, and Janice felt a flush of terror throughout her body. The dampness in her panties suddenly doubled and she felt a little faint as he began to walk over to her.
"Hi," he said, and Janice waved weakly. "You should be careful out here in the parking lot at night, there's bad folks out there," he continued, and his eyes roamed over her small breasts and her hips a bit wide for her body. "A pretty girl like you could get into trouble."
Janice involuntarily looked over her shoulder. "Me?"
The man just laughed. He was beautiful when he laughed, Janice thought; he looked to be just the right age, in his mid-twenties, and he was looking at her in a way that men just didn't look at her.
"I don't see any other hot women out here," he told her, smiling. "I'm just looking out for you..." He moved close to her and looked into her eyes. "And I'd do anything if you'd just go out with me."
Her jaw dropped. "Me, go out with YOU?"
The bag-boy looked hurt. "Well, I thought, I had to ask you, you're..." he backed away.
"No, I didn't mean it like that...why do you want to go out with ME?" Her heart was pounding and she fought to keep her voice from breaking. "I mean, NOBODY asks me out."
"You're kidding, right?" he asked after a moment. "'Cuz that's impossible." He looked incredulous and Janice wondered if she'd wandered into someone's acid trip.
"Um, no..." She couldn't believe this guy was talking to her at all, let alone asking her out. She felt warmth between her thighs. "They just don't. I don't get out a lot." She smiled at him and he grinned back at her. "Sure, I'll go out with you, when?"
"Uh, I'm off work...do you want to do something now?"
Janice considered. She had nothing to do tonight, her hair was clean (not that it helped), and her cellphone battery had died three days ago and she hadn't gotten around to recharging it. "Okay, I'll drive. but I need to know something."
"What?" he looked pensive.
"What's your name?"
"I'm really glad you came out with me," Scott told her, and his voice was so sincere that Janice felt her heart melt a little. She didn't know why this guy had obsessed on her, but she didn't mind, oh no. "I was ready to just go home..."
"And what?" Janice asked him.
