Chapter 1

Unlike many of my friends in college I did not have my life all planned out. I didn't set goals. There was nothing that I had a burning desire to be. I just wanted to be happy and have a normal life. Like most women my age I was looking forward to finding the right man and falling love. I was sure that he was out there somewhere. We would meet, fall in love, have two kids and live happily ever after. Everything else was just the details. I'm not a detail person.

The lack of a plan was apparently not something that was holding me back. I graduated from college and fell into a great job working for a medium sized company in a major city just up the coast from the town where I grew up.

The company was owned by my mother's older brother. But I didn't get the job because he was my uncle. I didn't even tell him that I had applied for it until I was hired. And I certainly didn't tell anyone during the hiring process that he was my uncle. I got the job on my own merits.

Nor did I tell my parents about the job until I was hired. When I got the job and told my parents I was surprised at my mother's reaction. I knew that she and her brother were not close. But when she found out I was going to work for his company she tried very hard to get me to withdraw my application and go somewhere else. She wouldn't say why. But it wasn't until that moment that I realized just how much bad blood there was between her and her brother. Despite my mother's attempts to dissuade me I was determined. Jobs for recent college graduates were at a premium. The job I had landed was too good to turn down.

I found a small apartment and settled in. My friends and I visited the city several times over the last few years of college. I had become familiar with the subway system and thankfully had no need for a car. I knew where the museums and libraries were located and the city has a large, beautiful park with plenty of room to run or enjoy nice long walk. It's even reasonably safe for a young woman to visit alone in the evening.

Over the last few months I slowly began to adjust to life in the city. Coming from a small town I was in the habit of smiling and saying hello to the people I met on the street. One of the hardest adjustments I had to make was adopting the city dweller's aloof behavior in public places. I still couldn't get over how quiet those subway cars could be during rush hour. All those people crammed together in those small boxes and not a word being spoken!

But I was adjusting. I had learned to carry a book to read so that my gaze wouldn't accidently meet someone else's while looking around the subway car. I noticed that most people either read a book or newspaper, listened to an iPod, or sent and received text messages on their phones, or some combination of those three activities.

Now I was living in a city with millions of people and I was terribly lonely. I didn't even notice it at first. With the excitement of learning a new job and living in a new city it was months before it really began to sink in. I don't have a boyfriend and the company I now work for has a strict non-fraternization policy. Like most sane women I don't like to go out alone in the evening and I have been so busy that I haven't yet met any women my age to go out with.

I wanted to make new friends. But even when I finally did I wasn't able to spend a lot of time with them. We seemed to have different interests. I wasn't a big fan of the club scene. It isn't that I don't like to dance and have fun. I do, very much. But I actually don't care much for anyplace that is so loud you can't carry on a conversation and where the air is blue with cigarette smoke.

So far I only had one friend I could talk to. A fifteen year old boy! Craig and his father moved into the apartment across the hall from me only a week after I moved into my apartment. I met them in the hall when they were moving in. They seemed nice so I invited them to join me in the evening for a light supper.

We got along well and I often saw Craig around the apartment pool or in the hallway and we would talk. He began to make friends with kids his age, though, and I started seeing less and less of him.

Now I was just coasting through life, waiting for the next thing to happen. When it did it was not something I could have anticipated.

Before I try to explain what it was that I did I should tell you a little about myself. I just turned twenty-one. I am a little taller than average, five foot seven inches. I am very slender. I weigh only a hundred and fifteen pounds, give or take a couple of pounds. I have shoulder length red hair. My bra is a healthy B cup. I don't go to a gym or exercise regularly but I walk a lot and I am in pretty good shape.

As for my sex life, well, obviously I don't have one at the moment. But I think I have a normal libido. I enjoy sex. I like to be touched and kissed. The look in a lover's eyes when he touches me or undresses me sends shivers down my spine. But I don't see that look very often and it has been a while.

I will admit, though, that especially in the last couple of months I have been unusually and increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of sex. Lately the sexual frustration has been building to peak that I have never experienced before. And the fantasies! I have started to experience some of the most unusual and ... well, embarrassing fantasies. I have no idea from what dark part of my subconscious those strange fantasies sprang.

I want to stress that I am not promiscuous. I have been with only four boys, including Danny Taylor. We were each other's first in the eleventh grade. I don't think that is a large number, especially compared to many of the girls I knew in college.

For the first few months since moving to the city I was so busy learning my new job that I honestly didn't have time to give very much thought to a relationship and sex. Now that my life is more settled it sometimes seems like that's all that I think about. In fact, I don't believe there was ever a time in my life that I had been so preoccupied with sex.

Lately I have been masturbating every night, sometimes for more than an hour. I have been masturbating for years. But two or three times a week. Not every night! It wasn't just the frequency that concerned me, though. Lately my fantasies have been more and more ... I hate to say it, kinky.

In the past I would fantasize about having hot sex with some cute guy. But lately the things that went through my mind when I was holding my vibrator pressed tight against my vulva and quivering through one orgasm after another were the kinds of things that used to offend me. I began to picture myself doing things, or having things done to me, that were demeaning to women, things that have always offended me in the past.

I was concerned enough when the fantasies started. But tonight I did something that still shocks me as I think about it, shocks and excites me. I was sitting on the subway on the way home from work this evening. I looked up from my book and noticed an older man sitting several seats away. Our seats were facing one another. The train had made several stops as it got farther away from the center of the city and had begun to empty out. But there were still so many people in the car that some were standing near the doors.

The man I noticed was staring at my knees as if he was trying to look up my skirt. I was wearing a simple black skirt that came to about three inches above my knee when I stood up. It was certainly not immodest and I was completely covered. I was sitting with both feet on the floor and my knees together and I knew that he couldn't see anything but my knees.

But I did something then that I had never in my life done before. In response to a sudden and irresistible compulsion I slowly spread my legs open so that he could look up my skirt! I don't mean that I splayed them wide open. My knees were about eight inches apart. But I knew that it was far enough to give him a peek at what he was trying so hard to see.

I glanced around discretely. No one else seemed to notice. But the man who was staring at my knees noticed. I saw his eyes open wide and his expression changed instantly. In an instant I could almost feel his eyes on the crotch of my pantyhose.

The poor old guy couldn't see anything but opaque nylon and a little patch of white cloth. But the thrill that shot through me knowing that I was exposing my undergarments to a complete stranger in public actually caused me to experience an orgasm!

I couldn't believe it! This was totally out of character for me. And even after I had an orgasm I left my knees the way they were and let that old man stare at my crotch until we finally reached my stop.

When the subway doors opened I got to my feet and almost ran up the stairs to the street. I rushed down the street to my apartment as if I was afraid that I was being followed. I wasn't. I know because I checked several times to make sure.

In my apartment I didn't even take the time to undress. As soon as I locked the door behind me I ran to my bedroom. I pulled my skirt up to my waist and reached for my vibrator. It was sitting on my nightstand, still plugged in. I used it so often now that I left it plugged in and handy. I turned it on and pressed it against my throbbing pussy without even taking the time to remove my pantyhose and panties. I came again, instantly, picturing in my mind what that man on the subway must have seen and imagining what he must have thought of me.

And still I didn't stop. I continued to masturbate for at least another half hour until I couldn't stand it any longer.

As I lay there having orgasm after orgasm I continued to imagine that man's eyes trying to focus on my pussy. But my mind didn't leave it at that. In my mind's eye I could see what that old man saw. But I didn't stop with exposing my well covered crotch. In my mind I saw myself standing up in front of all of the people on that crowded train and slowly taking all of my clothes off until I was standing naked on a subway car, surrounded by forty or fifty strangers. The men all stared at me with lust written all over their faces. The women all looked at me in disgust. And even that turned me on!

My masturbation orgy ended before my mind could carry my perverted thoughts through to their natural conclusion and I could be attacked by the men on the train.

I finally thumbed off the vibrator and lay panting on my bed. My entire body felt like it was still vibrating. It was a long time before I finally sat up and began to get out of my work clothes. As I sat on the side of my bed recovering from that long series of orgasms I could smell my juices. My underwear was soaking wet.

I was shocked at what I had just done. It was not the first time that I had imagined myself doing something like that lately. But I didn't know where these strange sexual thoughts were coming from. They were just not who I was! And now! I had actually carried out one of my fantasies, though in a milder form. I had purposefully spread my legs so that a complete stranger could look up my skirt!

What the hell was going on in my mind?!

I finally stood up and got undressed. My underwear was wet enough to wring out! I went to the bathroom and tossed my clothes in the hamper. I washed my still tingling pussy with a damp cloth. Then I returned to my bedroom and put on a t-shirt and a pair of lounging shorts.

I went out to my small kitchen and sat down with a glass of ice water to pull myself together. I was starting to wonder if I had some sort of weird medical problem. It had been a long time since I had made love to a man. But that wasn't so unusual in my life. Where in the hell had all of these strange fantasies come from all of a sudden?! I had never before even contemplated exposing myself to strangers.

And that wasn't the worst of it. I had other fantasies now. Kinky fantasies that made what I had done in the subway on the way home seem like nothing. I had begun to fantasize about all sorts of kinky things, like having sex with total strangers.

Please note the plural. I have begun to imagine myself being taken by more than one man at a time. Being taken was the key phrase. I imagined being taken by one or more primitive, strong, self absorbed men without regard for me or my feelings or desires. I could picture myself as a sex slave. Thoughts of bondage began to work their way into my fantasies. These were things I had never even imagined before!

These were not mental images that I was finding on the internet. I didn't go to those kinds of sites. I didn't read books or see movies about that sort of thing. I cannot begin to imagine where these thoughts were coming from.

I can't deny that I was finding the mental images exciting. But that was one of the reasons that I was scared. I didn't want to be the kind of girl that had those kinds of strange desires, much less someone who acted on them.

For the next half hour or so I tried to think of something in my life that could have spawned these strange fantasies. There was nothing! And there was no one in my life with whom I could talk about this.

It was time for supper. I wasn't hungry but I had to eat something. I made myself a small salad and tried to force myself to think about something else ... something wholesome. Results were mixed. I was able to think of other things. But my mind kept wandering back to thoughts of sex and mental images of me exposing myself to strange men.

I went to bed early. I selected the clothing I was going to wear to work the next day and hung it on the back of my closet door. Then I read for a while which finally seemed to distract me from thoughts of kinky sex. It wasn't even nine o'clock when I finally turned on the little machine beside my bed that soothed me to sleep with the soft sound of surf lapping at the shore and turned my light out.

That little sound machine was worth its weight in gold. I have had trouble falling asleep since I was a young girl. I never seemed to be able to shut my mind off long enough to fall asleep. One day, shortly after they moved in, I mentioned it to Craig, my new friend across the hall. He offered to let me try out the sleep machine that his mother had used to help her sleep. She left Craig's father over a year ago and they had divorced soon after. The white noise machine was one of the things she left behind.

That little machine was a miracle. It worked from day one. I went to bed that first night with the surprisingly restful sounds of the surf playing quietly and slept better than I ever had before.

For the next several months that little machine continued to work its magic. I have been sleeping like a baby for the first time since I was actually a baby. I wake up more refreshed and with more energy and than ever before in my life.

I couldn't help wondering if the increased energy I was enjoying might not be responsible for my increased libido. Then I had to wonder if my increased libido was responsible for the strange fantasies I was experiencing. And now I had to wonder if that might explain my incomprehensible behavior on the train this evening.

I fell asleep with those thoughts swirling around in my brain. I suppose that is why I experienced so many vivid sexual dreams that night. Once more I slept like a baby. But when I awoke the next morning I was nearly feverish from the lusty dreams that had occupied my mind during the night.

I awoke and reviewed the dreams I experienced and thought to myself, "Jesus! I need a man! I need to get fucked!"

It was seven o'clock in the morning and I was so horny I could scream! What the hell was wrong with me?!

I was shocked when I removed the underwear I wore to bed. They were just as soaked with my juices as the ones that I wore home from work yesterday! Once more I began to question my mental health.

I went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. I dried and brushed my hair and made myself ready for work. Then I returned to my bedroom to get dressed. I went to my dresser to select my underwear for the day. I bought all of my underwear from places like Victoria's Secret. I bought and wore sexy underwear even when no one was going to see it. It made me feel good about myself to know what I was wearing under my clothing.

But today I couldn't help myself. I selected a sexy thong, a matching bra that was little more than decorative lace, and the one pair of thigh high hose I owned. I knew what was in the back of my mind when I selected those hose. I was thinking about what I had done on the way home from work yesterday evening.

I stood in front of my mirror and stepped into my little thong. I pulled it up my legs and turned to appreciate how sexy I looked in the mirror. The little patch of lacy material just barely covered my tightly trimmed patch of red pubic hair. But the color of the hair still showed through.

I sat on my bed and pulled the thigh highs on. There was a three inch gap of bare thigh above the band of lace around the top of the hose.

I stood in front of my mirror again and I felt so strange. I will admit to being fascinated by the changes in my body when I went through puberty. I think that all girls are.

But I can't remember ever looking at myself in the mirror like this and being so impressed with my own body and my sexuality. What was more disturbing was that I realized that looking at myself partially nude was having an effect on me like it never had before. In the back of my mind I was imagining what that old man on the train last night would think if he saw me like this, or the other fifty people that were on that subway car last night.

I ran my hands lightly over my breasts for a moment before picking up my bra and pulling it on. The closure was between the cups. I prefer that style. I fastened the sides together and then looked at the tips where my pink nipples showed plainly through the lace. I don't think I've ever looked sexier. And except when I returned to my apartment from the subway last night I know that I've never been as horny, certainly not when I was all alone in my bedroom and watching myself dress for work.

I finally stopped staring at myself and put on the light summer dress I had selected to wear today. I thought that I looked very attractive. For just a moment I was tempted to change into a skirt and a light blouse so that my bra would be more visible. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind I shook my head and took a deep breath. I was turning into a frustrated sex maniac!

I prepared a light lunch, grabbed a bottle of water and headed for the subway. With each step I took I found myself becoming even more aroused as I relived in my mind my first mild attempt at exhibitionism. I am positive that there was not a single thought in my mind that I would repeat my actions, especially now that I wasn't wearing pantyhose. But I was becoming more aroused because I was returning to the scene of my crime.

I made my way below ground and waited for my train with all the other commuters heading into the heart of the business district. My train arrived and I joined the press of bodies politely making our way onto the crowded cars. Whether I had planned to flirt with the idea of exposing myself again or not there was no way it was going to happen this morning. There wasn't even a seat available.

I stood near the door with male bodies pressing against me and imagined how much more exciting it would be if I was naked. Knowing full well that such thoughts were alien to me, I nevertheless found myself so highly aroused as I imagined such an unlikely scenario that I found myself pressing up against the well dressed businessman in front of me and I continued to do so, even after he looked at me as if to ask if I were doing so on purpose.

I blushed furiously. But I continued to press my lower body against the stranger as if it was all beyond my control. I suppose in a way it was. The strange thing about it was that he wasn't very attractive. I wasn't attracted to him in the least. That was one of the strange things about my unusual behavior. I still had no idea what had come over me and why I was suddenly behaving like a bitch in heat.

I was actually relieved when the train got to my stop before I reached orgasm, because I didn't think for a moment that I was going to be able to keep it to myself. We arrived at my stop and as soon as the doors opened I shot out onto the platform and almost ran to the stairs.

I struggled to regain my composure before I reached my office. Judging by the concerned looks I received from some of my co-workers when I arrived I was not all that successful. I put my purse in my desk and went to the break room for a cup of coffee. I stopped in the ladies room on the way and made sure I was presentable. I looked a bit flushed, as if I had been running. I didn't look like a female sex fiend that had all but raped some poor man on the subway.

I returned to my desk with my coffee and sat staring down unseeing at the papers in front of me. What I had done on the way to work this morning was not as bad as what I had done last night. That man could not have known that I was not being forced up against him by the press of bodies around me. But I knew.

It took me a long time. But I finally started working. I had a hell of a time forcing myself to focus and it didn't get any easier as the day progressed. I continued to flashback on my behavior on the subway and noticed that I was no longer as shocked by what I had done. The shock was wearing off and the mental and physical stimulation were growing.

I sat at my desk through lunch and ate my sandwich and an orange. I stared off into space and thought about my strange behavior and decided once again that I very much needed to get laid. That had to be the reason for my unexplainable behavior. That was a problem for me. I have never made love to a man with whom I did not already have a relationship.

Despite my sexual assault of that poor, innocent businessman on the subway this morning, there was just no way that I could allow myself to be intimate with a strange man, some man I had just met. And there was no one I knew in this city that I could start a relationship with. The only three males I knew that were not fellow employees in my office were my Uncle Wayne, the owner of the company that now employed me, and Craig and his father Ian, my neighbors. And I had only met my uncle on just a very few occasions. He was pretty much a stranger to me.

By the time I got off work my sexual fever had begun to subside. I won't try to tell you that I was back to normal. But as I stood waiting for the train to take me home I felt like I was under control.

My usual train arrived and I got on and found a seat immediately. For those of you who do not ride the subway, I have noticed something about the people that ride them every day. They tend to take the same train at the same time every day and depending on the crowds, they often ride in the same car.

As soon as I sat down I reached into my purse and pulled out my book. I turned to the page I had marked and started to read. I fully intended to ignore every other person on the train that evening. But I just couldn't keep my eyes from glancing up for a second. And when I did I saw the man I had flashed on the way home yesterday. He was staring anxiously at my knees, obviously hoping for an encore presentation.

Even as I told myself that I was going to behave myself this evening I felt my knees begin to slowly separate and the excitement I felt was truly palpable. I was actually having trouble drawing a breath!

I watched over the top of my book as the man licked his lips and stared intently. I saw his excitement mount as more and more of my legs went on display.

I glanced around at the other passengers and unlike yesterday my little show was being observed by another man as well. As far as I could tell, though, it was just the three of us. The other passengers were oblivious, reading or staring off into space.

My skirt was slightly shorter today. And without really intending to I spread my legs a bit farther than I did yesterday. Or at least I think that it was unintentional. I saw the excitement on the faces of both men and I knew that if they looked up from my crotch they would see that same expression on my face.

I glanced down, trying to judge how much they could see. As my legs separated my skirt rode up my thighs and there was no question in my mind that both men could see the tiny patch of material that just barely covered my vulva. And they had to know that it was intentional. No decent woman sits the way I was sitting on a public subway car without intending to put herself on display.

The older man who had caught my first show yesterday looked up suddenly and smiled at me. My face was already as red as it could get. I quickly looked down at my book. I couldn't even see the words. But I couldn't look that man in the eye.

Our eyes had met, though. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now that I was intentionally displaying my underwear for him and now for another man as well. What I still couldn't understand was why, now that I had been caught, I was still sitting with my legs spread like a tramp.

I didn't move, though. I sat there with my sexy underwear exposed, my heart beating so loud I could hardly hear the sound of the subway's wheels counting a regular cadence on the rails as we raced toward my stop. I felt my sex quivering as if I was holding my vibrator against it.

I was aware of my kinky fantasies taking over again. The fantasy I had last night of standing up and undressing in front of all these people was different this evening. Now I imagined the two men who were staring lustfully at my exposed underwear coming over and pulling me to my feet. I almost groaned out loud as I pictured them undressing me while I stood helplessly and allowed it to happen.

But of course that didn't happen. Instead, we arrived at my stop and I ran from the car again. I rushed up the stairs and then stood back to make sure that I wasn't followed.

I stood in a recessed doorway, terrified that someone had witnessed my exposure on the train and might decide to follow me home. Yet at the same time I imagined some big strong man coming up those stairs, grabbing me by the arm, and ordering me to take him to my apartment so that he could rape me. And at that moment I think that I would have done it!

I wasn't sure that I wasn't disappointed when no one followed me. I drew a few deep breaths and forced myself to calm down. Then I turned and walked as quickly as I could to my apartment.

I was rushing to my bedroom, anxious to wrap my thighs around my cold, hard vibrator in lieu of the real thing when there was a knock on my door. My first instinct was to ignore it. But after knocking again I heard Ian from next door say, "Kari. It's me, Ian. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I was so desperate to strip down and satisfy that burning itch between my thighs that I almost screamed in frustration. But I turned and walked back to the door, determined to get rid of Ian quickly.

I opened the door and somehow Ian ended up standing inside my apartment. I didn't close the door. I was anxious to get rid of him.

I saw the way he was looking at me. It was as if he could read my mind. I saw him trying to suppress a grin as he stared into my eyes.

I knew Ian pretty well. We entertained each other for dinner from time to time. But it was strictly a platonic relationship. We were just friends. Neither of us had even hinted that we would be interested in anything beyond a good meal and friendly conversation. And anyway, he was much too old for me. His son was closer to my age than he was.

But now, I sensed a sexual tension between us. Or maybe it was just that my mind was clouded by my own need for sexual satisfaction.

I finally regained my power of speech. I tried to sound calm when I asked, "What can I do for you, Ian? I just got home and I'm anxious to get out of these clothes and have a drink."

I watched his eyes scan my body in a suggestive manner. He had never looked at me like that before and suddenly I realized that something had changed between us and I didn't know what or why.

Ian was a nice guy. I liked him. But he was not someone I would ever want to date, or anything else of a personal nature. I certainly had no desire to have sex with him. Even as horny as I was at this moment I couldn't imagine having sex with Ian.

It wasn't that he was unattractive. He didn't have movie star looks. He was someone that might be described as ruggedly handsome. He was about six feet tall and probably weighed about a hundred and seventy-five pounds. He was in his late thirties, much too old for me. He had dark hair that was just starting to gray around the temples.

I suppose that if I was ten or fifteen years older I could go for him.

Ian smiled disarmingly and said, "Craig tells me he loaned you my ex wife's white noise machine. Have you been using it? Does it help?"

I wanted to scream at him to leave. I desperately needed to go to my bedroom and rape my vibrator. I didn't know why this conversation was so urgent that it had to take place now. But I attempted to control my impatience. I answered, "Yes, Ian. I have been using it and it works like a charm. I haven't slept this well since I was a baby. Thank you. Why? Do you need it back?"