Sharking. I'd never even heard of it before. It happened to me one day just as I left work. I mean, I just stepped out of the office building where I worked and these two young men jumped me. I don't mean they mugged me as such, and when I say young men I suppose I should overgrown boys.
What happened was that one grabbed my arms and the other flicked up my skirt and jerked my panties down. I was frantically squealing and pushing at the one holding me while at the same time trying to bend down and grab my panties. With hindsight, I realize that I should have just ignored my panties and started scratching and hitting. That would have stopped them.
As it was, my attention was split between doing two things, with the result that I managed to do neither. Not content with just pulling my panties down, the little bastard actually managed to pull them right off, and then the two of them ran off down the street waving my panties like a little flag. All I could do was yell some abuse after them.
Marie, one of the girls who work in the office with me saw the tail end of what happened and, after she stopped laughing, explained what had happened. You can see it all over the internet, apparently. It started in Japan, where boys would film each other yanking down some poor girl's panties or top and then running away. They don't normally take the panties as a souvenir, but those two little sods did, curse them.
"Just stop at a supermarket and buy another pair," said Marie. "There's nothing you can do about it but forget it."
I probably should have listened to Marie and done just that, but I was too furious with those little animals to listen to reason. I was damned if they were going to force me to buy more panties. I had plenty at home. I'd just put on some more when I got home and be careful until I got there.
It's funny, but it was both exciting and nerve-wracking travelling home without panties. I had a seat on the train and you can be sure that I kept my legs tight together for the whole journey. Once I reached my home station I figured that I was home and hosed, as they say, and I must have relaxed my vigilance just a trifle.
All I had to do was cut across the park and then walk two blocks to my house. I was wearing a flirty skirt, and you know how they billow in the wind. With panties on, I wouldn't really care. With no panties? I kept my hand by my side as I strolled through the park. The problem came when that damned wind blew some hair across my face.
It was automatic. Something I've done a thousand times without thinking of it. The wind blows your hair across your face and you brush it away again. So I did. And the rotten wind promptly slipped up my flirty skirt and blew it high.
He was a big man. Over six foot and full of muscle. Pleasantly ugly to look at, a workman of some sort. I swear, people would pay good money to get a look at his face when he saw me displaying all my charms. Well, the lower half of my charms, anyway. He couldn't have looked more stunned if I'd just up and slapped him with a wet fish. I would have giggled but I was too embarrassed, knowing what he was looking at.
