I think the first time I really understood how men think about women was when in my father's car waiting for him to come back from the hardware store. Two men were standing next to it, unaware that I was even there.

This girl walked by, older than me but still a teenager. She had tight, but not super tight jeans, and ignored the men as she walked down the street. I watched the men's heads turn around and their eyes lock onto her wiggling butt.

"Maaaaan!" one of them said to the other.

"Some ass," the other sighed.

"Would I ever like to bend her over and stick my log up ass."

"Me too, man. A wiggle like that oughto be rewarded."

They watched her until she went around the corner, then moved off.

I was kind of amazed. I mean, the girl wasn't even that good looking. Even at that age I figured I had a better body. So why had they been so excited about her?

Well, I watched men a lot and soon realized that they were hot for damned near anything that moved and wasn't really fat or ugly.

And that included me. Now that I was watching I caught eyes flicking at me when I walked by, even adult men. I purposefully wore tight pants and went to malls and busy streets just so men would stare at my ass.

It made me hot. I felt wicked and wanton, and really sexy.

I knew that it was wrong of me to act like that. I never wore really tight pants to school, for example, because I didn't want the other kids talking about me and calling me loose.

I wasn't. I was still a virgin. But I was so terribly aware of how hot I was, and exquisitely excited whenever I caught men looking at me.

I hated being a virgin, and really wished I had the courage to do something really wicked, but I didn't. My parents had given me the real conservative speech about sex being only for married people, and I felt too intimidated to try it.

I was afraid the guy, whoever it was, would think I was a cheap whore, and worse, would tell everyone about it. Then my parents and teachers would find out and...

Well, the only thing I had to get aroused was to come home after school, when my parents were away at work, put on tight, tight pants and a tight blouse, and go somewhere people didn't know me and guys could look at me.

I knew they were thinking just like those men had been, thinking of how sexy I was and how they wished they could bend me over and fuck me.

My jeans pulled up tight against my crotch, and as I walked, feeling slutty and hot, began to rub against my slit in a really pleasant way.

This is how I first learned to masturbate. I came home after a long walk, stripped, and looked down at my pussy where the jeans had been rubbing so nicely, then ran my finger over my slit and began to rub that really hard spot at the top with my finger.

Soon I was laying back on my bed with my legs apart, writhing and gasping in shocked delight, eyes wide as my lower body burned up with lust. My first orgasm was a stunning experience, and I gurgled in wondrous pleasure as it roared through my skull.

My breasts were fairly large even then, but got much bigger over time. And by the next year they were thirty-eight C cups, and were really drawing the men. My ass was full and firm and round, and my waist tiny.

I had a great teenage body, and revelled in it, masturbating constantly.

Of course, I knew that was wrong too, and I felt guilty for doing it, but I couldn't stop. I had a small, narrow face with large seashell blue eyes. I was a natural blonde, and had let my hair grow long, so it hung half-way down my back.

It was thick and shaggy and wild looking, except at the front where I had these cute bangs across my forehead. I loved to swing my head from side to side when I danced naked in front of my mirror, making my hair whip around wildly.

I practised all kinds of lewd dances in front of my mirror, imagining the men looking at me like this, imagining how hot and horny they'd get if they could see me naked.

I was still a virgin, though I had the wildest, sluttiest fantasies a virgin possibly could. A lot of them were rape fantasies. I found it hard to imagine letting a guy have sex with me, see, but if I were raped, well, then it wouldn't be my fault and I wouldn't have to feel guilty.

So I constructed all kinds of elaborate rape fantasies where poor little me was lewdly used and abused by big, strong, well-hung men, sometimes by more than one at a time.

I bought some of the sluttiest clothes, including micro mini- skirts, supertight jeans, short shorts, tight and low cut tops, and sexy, lacy lingerie.

I had to hide it all in the attic so my parents wouldn't find it, but I wore it whenever they weren't around, even when I was alone in the house.

I just felt so incredibly hot and sexy wearing that stuff. Even when I was wearing a plain old dress I liked to feel hot and slutty by wearing something really sexy, like a G-string and lacy black half bra or corset underneath.

One day I put on a pair of really short tight nylon shorts and a tank top with no bra and got on my bike, then went riding in a local park.

The tank top was really tight against my breasts, and had big arm holes, and with my arms forward, hands on the handlebars, half my breasts were bared to anyone I passed.

One guy, who looked cute enough and was maybe ten years older than me, drove up behind me and passed me real slowly. I carefully did not look at him, but felt soooo hot because I was absolutely sure his eyes were on the side of my right breast, much of which was clearly visible through the armhole of my tank top.

I dared to flick my eyes aside for an instant and saw out of the corner of my eyes that he was indeed looking down at my chest. I trembled a little, and my breasts swelled excitedly.

Then he passed me and drove on. When I drove home I stripped and spread my legs and began jerking off. In my mind, things had been different. I fantasised that he'd driven me off the path and into some bushes, then jumped on top of me and torn my clothes off.

He had loomed over me as his big cock had plunged into my virginal honey pot, and he had raped away my cherry with wild, furious strokes.

I was so excited by the fantasy I grabbed my hairbrush and jammed the handle into my snatch. I intended to only pump it in a little, but I got so hot I had thrust it in so hard and deep it had ripped my cherry apart.

I came furiously, bucking and humping as I slid the entire handle into my quacking pussy slit all the way to the bristles.

Which was when my father walked in, having come home unexpectedly from work because of a boiler problem there.

My father was a large, square-jawed man and very religious. He was the only person I knew of who actually watched those religious shows on TV and took them seriously, sometimes saying "Amen," along with the preachers and audiences there.

He said that sex was the devil's tool, and that righteous men only had sex with their wives, and only for the purpose of having babies. I was an only child, so I guessed that meant he hadn't had any sex with my mother since I was born.

When he opened the door I was just in the midst of coming. My legs were wide apart, my feet flat on the bed, and my back arched as I pulled my head way back and gurgled in pleasure. One hand was squeezing my breast while the other was pumping the hairbrush into my sopping wet gash as hard and fast as I could make it move.

Well, I guess he just stood there gaping at me, watching that hairbrush pumping into my slit, and my heavy breasts jiggling and shaking.

What I think was that with my head pulled back so far, from his angle he couldn't see my face. Maybe because of that he saw me as a woman for the first time, saw my soft thighs, dripping snatch, round full breasts and erect pink nipples, and saw me as tits and ass.

And when I finally went limp and rolled my head forward and saw Daddy staring at me with his jaw slack, he had a big hard bulge in his crotch that gave pretty ample evidence that what he'd seen had turned him on plenty.

Well I was stunned. My brain had hardly gotten back on track from that fantastic come when the shock of seeing my father standing a few feet away staring at me. Talk about overload!

I just stared back at him while he stared at me.

"You God damned whore!" he shouted finally.

My entire body flushed dark red as I tried to sit up and cover my flesh with my hands and arms. Daddy rushed forward and his open hand lashed forward, smacking me right in the face. It hit me like a train, flinging me backwards onto my back again, setting my ears ringing, and dazing me enough that I just lay there for a few seconds, all spread out and naked, the hairbrush still buried in my pussy.

He leaned over, grabbing me first by the wrist, and yanking me up, then by the hair. I screamed in pain as he yanked me forward by the hair and flung me against the wall. I hit it hard and bounced back, half turning only to meet his open hand again, slapping me right across the face.

I spun around and hit the wall once more, then fell sideways onto the floor.

"You filthy slut! Is this how you act when you're alone! Is this the kind of daughter I've raised!? Are you nothing more than a filthy little tramp!?"

I groaned, tasting blood in my mouth as I tried I pushed myself to my knees. Then I screamed again as he grabbed a handful of hair and dragged me roughly to my feet. he shoved me back against the wall, his face red and eyes bulging.

"You whore!" he screamed into my face.

"I'm not a whore, daddy!" I sobbed.

"You think I don't know a whore when I see one!? Laying there with your filthy legs apart and abusing yourself with a hairbrush!!?"

He slapped my face, then backhanded it the other direction, then slapped it again. I saw stars as my head whipped from side to side.

"You are a worthless whore!!"

"Then how come you got a hard-on!?" I sobbed.

Well, of course I wasn't thinking straight. I mean, my mind was all flustered and dazed from being slapped and the shock and humilation of being caught like that. I think half of his anger was because of that hard-on, and my pointing it out made his eyes bulge so wide I thought for a second they would pop right out of his skull.

He grabbed my throat and squeezed, then started shaking me violently, so my hair whipped up and down. He twisted me and flung me against the wall. The back of my head hit it and I tumbled to the floor, stunned.

"You filthy creature!" he hissed. "It is women like you who turn men from the righteous path! Flaunting your nudity before good men and true!"

He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his pants, then slashed it down across my back. I cried out in dazed pain, laying on my belly with my hands under me trying to lift myself up.

The belt lashed across my shoulders again and I sobbed as it flung me down. Again and again the belt whipped across my back as I tried to claw my way to my knees. I got up as far as all fours when he lashed out with his foot, smacking it into my belly so hard it lifted me right up into the air, flung me sideways, and turned me over so I fell onto my back.