I was raised to be a modest, conservative girl, and at 19, I'm still a virgin. But I have a filthy secret.
I think about sex constantly. I imagine men's hands on me and hungrily stare at their crotches in public. I picture their engorged, throbbing cocks. Because I'm so cute, I've been molested and hit on many times by strangers. Every cat call, every dirty older man who slaps my flanks or cups my breasts in the grocery store makes me hot between my legs and I feel my pussy throbbing, longing to be taken by a man. I get horny in public a lot when men cop feels, so horny I can't think straight and I start wiggling my hips and rubbing my thighs together, desperate for relief. I usually end up running to the women's bathroom, strip naked in the stall, and frantically rub my clit and tug my nipples until I squirt into the toilet.
I think something must be broken in my brain, a nymphomaniac or something of the sort. I feel like a bitch in heat, craving a breeding more than air. But I'm so disgusted by my desires I could never seek them out...
One day, I was riding the bus, wearing a cute girly shirt and tight jeans shorts that had ridden up quite a bit. I normally do not wear such revealing outfits, so I was feeling timid but also aroused. I had begun to discover that showing off my body a bit was thrilling, though it made me worry I was a whore.
A man, must've been around 30, and pretty good-looking, got on the bus and sat right next to me, placing his hand on my thigh. I froze in fear and felt my heart start to pound. The man began to rub my thigh farther and farther up my leg as his other arm snuck behind my back and held my waist. I whimpered as his thumb found the seam of my tight shorts, creating friction on my clit. He leaned in and began to whisper in my ear.
"You're the hottest piece of fuckmeat I've ever seen, baby girl. If we weren't in public, my cock would be inside that whore cunt by now."
I was frozen with fear and said nothing as the man's hand slipped under my shirt and brushed over my ample breasts. My nipples felt hot and hard. I've been touched by horny men before, but never held and rubbed by one. Both my excitement and terror began to build. I came up with a plan of escape, getting off the bus at the next stop. The man followed me. I began to sprint, eventually shaking him off at a corner. I found another bus stop and anxiously waited. I let out a sigh of relief when the bus arrived before my would-be attacker could find me.
I cried on the bus. This was my fault for wearing these whorish clothes. And yet something else twisted in my gut. I... liked it. I liked the attention and I liked the rough touch. I cried harder thinking that I really must be fucked in the head if I enjoyed being molested so much.
For the next week, I couldn't get the incident on the bus out of my mind. Every time I thought of it, I became insanely horny, and no amount of rubbing my aching pussy could relieve my desire. I realized I needed to have sex with a man, but not just any man: I needed a man bold and strong enough to take my virginity against my will. Perhaps it was the years of sexual repression from my conservative upbringing that made me this way, or perhaps it was an evolutionary urge. But I could no longer deny that rape was what my body was craving so desperately. And, I reasoned, if I was made to have sex against my will, it wouldn't be my fault anyway. I could have sexual relief guilt-free. I began having wet dreams about being raped, and excitedly imagined myself in various scenarios being taken against my will. The fantasies were so intense yet left me wanting more. I NEEDED the real thing.
I knew it wouldn't be too hard for me to get raped, being young, hot, and fertile. But I thought I should give the boys some extra encouragement. I ordered a tiny little skirt on Amazon and a push-up bra. As I waited for the package to arrive, I anxiously deliberated whether I was actually going to wear them out and turn myself into live bait.
When the clothes arrived, I put them on with shaking hands. The skirt clung to my body, highlighting my curvy feminine hips. I was wearing no panties and the skirt was cut so short that if I bent over, everyone would know. I paired it with a black tank top, which proudly showed my cleavage. I stood in the mirror with my heart racing. There's no way I can do this, go out in public looking like this! But the empty feeling in my desperate vagina overcame me. All the years of virginity, of depriving myself the touch of a man, and I finally broke. My perfect body was made for sex and it wouldn't stay young and ripe forever. I could not wait a second longer, I needed to feel a penis split me open. Tonight had to be the night.
So I left my apartment just before midnight. I knew of some sketchy neighborhoods about a ten minute walk away, so I headed in that direction.
I hadn't seen anyone else out yet, which made me feel somewhat disappointed. I was starting to shiver and have second-thoughts. What if the man who found me decided to kidnap me or kill me? What if he was diseased? 'I should turn home,' I thought. 'The risk isn't worth getting my rocks off.'
Unfortunately, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings as I was lost in thought deciding to back out. I had walked past the entryway of a dingy bar where a man had been leaning. The sound of footsteps behind me was unmistakable.
'Holy shit,' I thought. 'I didn't even think to bring a knife or pepper spray. What am I doing?' I sped up my pace but my stalker followed suit.
I broke out into a run, turning random corners to try and shake him. I was no longer familiar with this part of the city. I turned a sharp right and to my horror-
"This is a dead end, girly," a slurred voice said behind me. I turned to face the man. He was hard to see in the dark, but he was maybe in his forties. His body type was pretty average, he looked like he had strong arms and a broad chest with a bit of a chubby stomach. He had the body type of a manual laborer, rather than a bodybuilder. Strong in the practical way. Strong enough to have his way with me, I realized as my blood turned icy cold.
I was backing up slowly as the man took staggered steps towards me. My heart sank as I felt my back press against concrete and realized I'd just made myself even easier prey.
"Shit," the man chuckled. "They say when God closes one door, He opens another. I've been at this bar every night since my wife run off and God dropped some hot snatch right outside it. Let me see that little body, baby. Gimme a twirl."
I stayed frozen. The man moved in closer to me. As he was about to reach me, I lunged forward to escape but he caught me round the waist. He flipped me so I my face was pressed into the wall and his hips pinned me from behind. I felt something hard poke at the back of my thigh and his fingers began to trace and tickle my waist. My hips twitched and bucked at the movement.
"Mmmmm goooood gurllll" he slurred. "You're so hot you could make me forget I ever had a wife."
He pulled me off the wall by my wrists and awkwardly forced me to turn around and around.
