Friday was the first time I went to Mark's place expecting to have sex. I've been battling my thoughts virtually all day every day since we first fucked, and it was turning worse. I was constantly turned on. On Thursday, I sat in every class with a wet pussy and when I finally got home I masturbated all afternoon. My clit actually started to hurt by the end of the day from all the stimulation. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stop thinking about that ugly geek and his huge penis.
You know, from the moment I lost my virginity, I always liked sex. I never had problems getting intimate with guys, as I was really proud of my natural gifts. Thanks to the unrealistic representation of women in the mass media, every girl I knew struggled with their body image. Not me though. I was that one-in-a-million girl who happened to have the perfect figure without having to work my ass off in a gym, starving myself or having to do plastic surgeries. I felt privileged, but I was very proud of my body.
My looks gave me such confidence that it was easy for me to enjoy sex. But I always felt bad about casual hookups, because—thanks to the male-centric society we live in—girls who'd sleep around were labeled sluts. So even though I liked to show off my body and often dressed in a way that invited men's stares, I was really picky who to let actually see me naked and enjoy my body. Especially because the guy I lost my virginity with turned out to be an asshole who only saw girls as trophies. I found it hard to trust guys after that.
So even though I enjoyed sex and it was available to me at all times—there was not a single day when someone didn't make a pass at me—I declined almost every opportunity so I wouldn't be used and shamed for it. Finding Kyle was a blessing. Finally I found someone who I could trust, someone who loved me, who was faithful to me, and who I could have frequent sex with without being shunned by society.
It was the perfect situation and I hoped that it would last forever. After dating for year, I still felt as passionate about him as I was when we first met. Despite trying virtually every position, our sex life didn't suffer. His handsome face was already enough to turn me on, and his muscular body and big cock would get me instantly wet every time.
Then came Mark. The nerd who has been in my friend zone for so long that I no longer even looked at him as a guy but more like a slave. When he started massaging me, he awoke my desires to be rewarded for my body. I always liked the way he looked at me, but I never thought of going further. I didn't want him, but it gave me a nice tingly feeling to see him crave me. When he started massaging me, it was like a tease. I let him touch me innocently and I could feel his lust as he was pleasuring me.
But he went further with each session and I allowed him, because he was never too forward. He progressed slowly with each massage, waiting for me to get comfortable with him before he made the next small move. He was so smooth that, after a couple of massages I was lying naked on his bed as he poured massage oil on my soft skin.
I had plenty of opportunities to stop things, but it was so tempting to let him go just a little bit further that by the time I really wanted to cease the massages, I already lost control of my body. I kept Mark around all those years, because he seemed harmless. He was unattractive, weak and kind, the type that was the easiest to control. My body on the other hand wasn't as easy to command. It liked to be looked at and loved to be touched, and by the time I realized it, my body had turned into a purring kitten in Mark's hands.
So the massages turned increasingly intimate. Soon Mark was groping my butt and playing with my titties, before finally venturing to the most private part of my body, my pussy. This is where I lost it completely. My pussy was like a control panel to my body. If you had access, you could basically do anything to me. And once he gained access, he turned me into his sex doll. He fingered me, ate me out, made me suck his cock, and then he fucked me. And I let him do all those things, even though I was repulsed by the idea of cheating on my perfect boyfriend with an ugly geek.
I hated myself for it, but the worst thing was that I loved every second of it and I wanted more. He didn't only make me come. Any guy devoted enough could do that. But he made me experience pleasures I have never felt before. I was never a "size matters" kind of girl, but that extra two or so inches that he had on my boyfriend really made a difference. Or perhaps he used his penis in a way that it did, I wasn't sure. The only thing I was sure of is when that geek penetrated my tight pussy with his huge cock it was the best sex of my life.
And when I started thinking about Mark during sex with Kyle, I knew I was beyond a point of no return. Mark spoiled me. Even if I stopped the affair now, I would always compare Kyle's sexual performance to his, and it was just no match. But I did not want to accept that I wanted Mark's cock inside me, again and again. I couldn't accept that geek having completely control over me.
***
Yet, when Friday rolled around, I caught myself spending an hour in the morning trying to pick out my sexiest underwear matched with the most revealing outfit I could find in my closet. After trying on several different clothes, I finally settled with the sluttiest one I owned. It was a black bodysuit with see-through micro-mesh running down at the front from my chest to my crotch, matched with a black miniskirt. It showed plenty of my braless breasts while also barely covering my ass.
Don't get me wrong. I had lots of dresses and tops that showed some cleavage or even a side boob, but they were more of a tease. You know, just a little bit of skin that would hint at my breast size. This one, on the other hand, basically had my tits on a display. The only things the bodysuit covered were my side boobs and my nipples. Any flesh between them was completely visible through the "boob window" created by the mesh.
Since you were not meant to wear a bra with this bodysuit, it also showcased my breasts in their natural state rather than pressing them together to create an artificial cleavage. This made me feel even more naked. I had no idea why the hell I was dressing up like that. If you saw someone wearing this at a party, you'd think that girl was desperate. Wearing it to school was completely inappropriate.
Moreover, I was pretty sure that geek would've gladly fucked me even if I wore granny panties. I knew my clothes would end up on the floor of his bedroom anyway, so there was no reason to be this picky. But I wanted to look good for him. I unconsciously wanted to please him before he got to please me.
However, I still had a day to get through before I would meet him at his place in the afternoon. When I picked that slutty dress, I didn't think it through. I was used to men discreetly checking me out in public. Hell, I even liked it when I caught guys trying to take a peek at my body without me noticing. But I didn't expect the attention I got while wearing this outfit. People were shamelessly staring at my body as I rode the subway to school.
There were no empty seats left, so I stood at the middle of the car. As it got crowded in the morning rush-hour, three or four different men positioned themselves around me, and they were frequently looking down on my chest, admiring my barely hidden flesh through that see-through "boob window". There was a middle-aged businessman who was especially bold when staring at me, like he wasn't even trying to hide it. And judging by the ring on his finger, he was married. I felt uneasy, but I inadvertently started to get turned on from all this extra attention.
The man was far from handsome, but he wasn't hideous either. A lot of girls kind of have a double standard when it comes to guys staring at them. As long as the person's hot, it's okay, but if he's ugly, it's creepy. I wasn't like that. I found something arousing about unattractive guys' lustful gaze. Something about the idea that they had no chance of getting me and they knew that, yet they craved me. It made me feel special, like I was a really expensive watch in a shop window. This is why I let Mark so close, too. And this is why I found it thrilling to have this man look at me like that.
This was a married man, about 45. You could tell he was unhappy in his marriage. Here was a young teenage girl in front of him with a heavenly body that was barely covered, teasing him. He probably married young and felt like he missed out on things. But now it was too late. Even if he split up with his wife now, he could no longer realistically hook up with a hot girl, not unless he paid for it. He was getting old, his hair turning gray and his skin becoming wrinkly. Maybe that's why he was staring at my tits so shamelessly. It was the only thing he could do. And my breasts were the highlights of his day.
As I was fantasizing about this man's sad life, the subway—reaching the next station—suddenly hit the brakes. It wasn't anything big, really, but it caused the middle-aged man standing in front me to bump into me. I wasn't sure if it was an accident or he did it on purpose, but for a quick second his chest pressed against my boobs as our bodies collided. In his defense, the car was very packed, so he had to stand really close to me, and it was just a quick nudge. But he didn't apologize, just carried on like nothing happened.
I was sure he liked it. I observed the man as his tongue swept across his lower lip, before he softly sank his teeth into it, his eyes fixated on my boobs the entire time. He just felt them. He felt those soft lady lumps brush up against his firm chest. My breasts were no longer a pleasure just for his eyes. He must have been fantasizing about sinking his rough fingers into them and caressing my young flesh. As I imagined the dirty thoughts running through his head, I uncontrollably started getting more aroused.
There were two other men standing around me who saw the married guy accidentally brush up against my body. A tall, 20-something kid with long hair and a skateboard in his hand and a 30-something Indian guy with a moustache. When the subway started to accelerate again, it was now them who bumped into me casually from the side, the skater gently nudging my left tit with his elbow, the Indian softly slamming into my left side while grabbing my hips for a second to balance himself.
As strange as it was, my mind was trying to convince me that it was just accident. Still, I couldn't help, but think that they must have gotten jealous seeing the middle-aged man rubbing up against me, and they didn't want to be left out.
I could tell this frustrated the middle-aged man. The lust in his eyes now mixed with frustration. He only wanted me for himself. At the next brake—even though the sudden loss of speed was just about the same as before—he threw his body at me even harder, grinding his stiff chest against my soft tits. It wasn't a quick bump this time. It was a whole two seconds as he felt up my boobs with his upper body. Instead of successfully marking his territory, however, this move only made the other two become even bolder.
When the next acceleration came after the stop, the skater pressed his bony elbow against my left tit even stronger, sinking it deep into my flesh for a second. The Indian guy meanwhile rubbed against my side, grabbing my hips to balance himself once again, but this time, he slid his palm down to my ass before removing it. It was just a quick swipe that I could justify being unintentional, but deep down I knew it wasn't. I knew what was happening, but I kept trying to convince myself that it was alright, that it was all an accident.
As the next brake came and the middle-aged man slammed into me once again, this time he put a hand out to break the fall, which landed exactly on my right boob. After a second or so, he pushed himself off of me using his palm that rested on my breast, feeling me up during the ordeal. This was starting to get really out of hand. I felt violated and furious, but I was too ashamed to speak up. The staring was okay, but they were now openly fondling me in public. And to make things worse, my body began responding to the inappropriate touches and I felt getting wet down there.
The three men continued to grope me at every opportunity, going further each time. The Indian guy shifted himself behind me and started grabbing my butt more boldly the next time the subway was accelerating. As the skater bumped into me from the side for a third time, I felt something hard hit my stomach, which I initially thought was his skateboard, but looking down, I noticed a big bulge in his pants. They started one-upping each other, mistaking my reluctance for consent, and I was fuming inside from my powerlessness.
