Chapter 3

Then ... Why Not Now?

20 November 2019

When I was young, around fourteen years old, I realised the power my body had to attract. Boys – and men – would try to look up my skirt. Far from hating this, sometimes I encouraged it. Oh, I was far too innocent to let anything happen then, but I do remember how wet I got. I knew guys were looking and I would play with myself afterwards, imagining what they would do if given the chance. So, if then, why not now...?

Well, now is different. I’m not a shy little fourteen-year-old any more, and take a look at the news: girls get raped if they take too many risks these days. Even so ... the thrill is in the forbidden, right?

This morning I was on the train, feeling horny, and although I hadn’t deliberately dressed for what I did, I was wearing a skirt and my legs were bare. If I’d thought about it before I left home, I might well have worn some more interesting panties than the Plain Janes I was wearing. I had just normal white cotton panties, the sort I wore most of my life at school.

So there I sat feeling horny, but because I couldn’t do anything about it, I was grumpy as fuck too. (And maybe a bit premenstrual. Like many girls, for some reason I’m really randy when I’m on, but in this case, I still had a week to go.)

I saw a guy glancing at me now and then. Every girl knows what this is like. As soon as we get boobs, guys check us out; it just goes with being female. He was sitting diagonally opposite me and neither of us had anyone else anywhere near us. It happened almost without me meaning it to. I just shifted in my seat and let my knees part. I knew damn well he could see right up to my crotch. I pretended to fish around in my bag. Girls’ bags are like caves, and we keep an amazing amount of stuff in there. Anything from tampons to loose change. I rummaged around for some time, while he got a good eyeful.

Oh, but it got me so hot! When I felt I couldn’t really keep it going any longer for decency’s sake, I sat back straight and primly crossed my legs ... which put a delicious pressure on my already swollen clit.

I neither knew nor cared anything about this guy, although I did notice a wedding ring. So, married then. He must have been in his forties, I guess, and as I sat there gently squeezing my things together – something I learned to do in school – I let myself think about what he might do later at home. Would he fuck his wife? Would he get her to dress like me? Would he think of me as he came inside her?

All this brought me nicely to the point of no return, and I came into my underwear.

I covered it with a couple of coughs and a pretend sneeze.

That felt so great! Fuck! Now, as I write this, I can’t describe how good it was. It reminded me of giving myself a buzz in school. Although I never quite managed to cum in class, I got very, very close. Certainly close enough to make a mess in my underwear and need to finish the job as soon as I got some privacy.

I got off the train, feeling the stickiness between my legs, and immediately thought of the guy on the train; maybe he couldn’t wait until he got home that night; maybe he had to go and finish himself off, imagining me.

That made me have to visit the toilets and rub another one out. Oddly, although my train man was the starting point, what got me off was looking at the mess in the crotch of my underwear. I had creamed a lot and had obviously been leaking since I left home. A cum on the train had resulted in quite a lot more. It almost looked like I’d been fucked and it was spunk that had leaked out of me. That’s what made me cum that second time, in the toilets.

Unusually, I didn’t have a spare pair of panties in my bag, so I had to spend the rest of the day feeling very, very wet.