12. Escalator (2)
The shopping mall felt even more crowded than before. No raucous hawker cries like in a bustling market, but the throng of people generated a din simply by existing. Beneath the ever-brighter LED lights of technological progress, I pressed forward with the endless crowd as my audience.
Each step made the skirt tickle my legs, whispering to me. Someone might be watching you. Hnngh. My waist shivered in tiny spasms. As my legs parted with every stride, my thighs edged further outward. It was amusing to watch the expanse of pale skin grow, so I spread them wider still. Lewd liquid seeped bit by bit from deep inside my thighs, soaking my legs. A little more, and every step would squelch audibly. A breeze from somewhere grazed between my legs, brushing right up to my hole. The wetness felt deliciously cool. My heart thundered loud enough to echo in my ears.
Haah, nothing below my waist in front of all these people. The finely shredded flare skirt wasn't objectively clothing anymore—just a rag. A rag to toss after today's fun. That rag was all that shielded my private parts. It fluttered limply with every sway of my hips. This time, one slip and it wouldn't just be my panties—they'd see my pussy too. Now I really shouldn't cover up. Standing bold and uncovered would draw less notice. Thank god for the mask hiding my burning face.
Before long, I reached the escalator again. No hesitation—I stepped right on. No matter how I clenched between my legs, the emptiness inside felt glaringly bare. With every sway, gazes seemed to fix on the flapping hem. This was my first time like this amid so many people. Before, it had always been empty spots or maybe one or two at most, but now there were no gaps anywhere I looked. Even trying to flee like earlier, I'd have no escape from prying eyes even for a second. That thrilled me to my core.
The urge to flash my slutty self to everyone flooded my mind. It wasn't their scorn or mockery I feared—only getting reported. It'd feel so good if they saw... I could picture my mask-trapped face glowing beet red. My head felt ready to explode. I recalled that odd stare from the one who'd glimpsed my panties earlier. Flustered, yet they kept looking... Shame and humiliation sent me running, but the arousal matched it drop for drop. The slickness from before now trailed droplets down my thighs.
Ahh, dripping like this—even under what shreds of a skirt remained, if anyone's watching, they'll know I'm turned on... Worry gnawed, but wiping it off was impossible. The instant I did, everyone nearby would clock what happened.
The escalator crested the top. Already over? Too damn short. Fantasizing those stares made it fly by. Still, one floor up and there was an electronics store dead ahead. Large appliances galore—ACs and fans crammed from the entrance to lure shoppers. Summer loomed soon enough; it made sense. But not for me. Crank those fans and ACs, and my skirt was done for. One more step, and everything inside flashed wide open. People piled up behind though—no time to freeze and fret.
I chose not to cover... I swallowed dryly. Earlier, instinct drove my escape; this time, I wanted to show it—willfully. I inched forward. A sudden gust blasted through, whipping the skirt like a curtain. Wind hit my soaked pussy like ice. Sensitive nerves fired: ass and pussy bared completely, nothing hidden. The woman ahead, glued to her phone, jolted to a halt, face shocked. She glanced up at mine, twisting into contempt.
She probably missed the view, and anyway, my mask-hidden face was surely blissed-out and slack—I ignored her. The vertigo thrill, the forbidden rush of doing wrong—it felt too good. From my arousal-packed depths, clear fluid gushed, drenching my thighs entirely. Invisible, but it felt knee-deep. No pause—I hit the next escalator. Wind died; skirt settled quick. But those sticky stares pinned my ass and thighs.
I scratched casually under my ass, high on my thigh. Hem shook naturally, breeze slipping into my crack. A little fan service for the glaring woman below—or the guy trailing me. Haah, me voluntarily flashing my skirt's underside... Untouched, and I'm about to cum. Endless teasing cramped my belly tight. Opening my mouth would fog the mask with hot breath, so I clamped it shut, riding escalator after escalator.
Between my legs: soaked. Gotta pause, wipe the drip, keep going. Strangers would stare weird otherwise. Off the escalator, straight to the bathroom. Fifth floor's the top, yet I'm halting every level. Only two left—regret tugged. Shaking wet hands past exiting folks, I ducked in. Huge mirror smacked my eyes first. Met my flushed reflection's gaze.
Eyes half-lidded, hazy; lips quirked up, parted tiny and quivering. That euphoric looseness screamed her pleasure at a glance. Huh? Mask dangled jaw-low, face fully exposed. Hand to cheek: soft skin only, no rough fabric. "Hnnngh!" Everything—everything shown. The face gone slack from exposure's joy, too. They caught me: pervert thrilled by slutty public rags. Everyone who saw remembers my face. Might cross paths on the street, and I bared it all.
Waist twisting, hole clenching. Body-wide thrill kept juicing my legs. Way riskier than planned, but god, it felt amazing. Flashing pussy and face to strangers? Pure fire every recall.
Then, bathroom door swung. She froze at me mid-mirror. Like she was outbound anyway, she bolted out. Brushing the newcomer, hems snagged—my skirt fluttered. ...Didn't see. Zero reaction; straight to stall. Staring, my hand strayed to skirt. I hiked it at her back. Pervert behind you. Turn around, and she'd get full view of my drenched pussy. Same sex—she'd know exactly what that wetness meant. No excuses; total perv confirmed.
Vague terror-thrill spiked my heat. But she never glanced back, vanished into the stall. Sharp click-click lock. Fuu... Tiny relief-sigh, then out. Yanked mask up proper. ...Ah, meant to wipe my crotch, but ditched without hitting a stall. Re-enter though? That chick saw me leave—she's in there. Bump her, and it's weird...
Pondering, my feet marched me crowds-deep anyway. Families, couples zipped past. No sign of my contempt-glarer. Good... Other floors have bathrooms—head there. More juice, and I'm busted for real. Hurried steps. Down escalator this time. Bathroom, then dorm... Chest-squeezing thrill's bliss, but bail before worse.
Narrow stride kept flare skirt still, slow creep. Hunting bathrooms, spotted the dim hall where I'd ditched panties. Grab 'em, don in stall. Floor-touched, filthy—how to wear? Musing, deeper in: floor spotless. Freshly mopped vibes; wet streaks gone pristine.
Panties... gone. No mix-up possible. Few such nooks to confuse. Dry swallow. Perverted rag-skirt, bare below... Panties lost too. How to get home...? Mind blanked numb, but body surged with excitement, anticipation.