13. Bottomless 1 (2)
About halfway through campus, there's a convenience store built on the roof of a building. Since the university was carved out of a hillside, the rooftop here is level with the first floor of the building behind it—no need to climb stairs. You just cross an iron bridge to get right in.
I hesitate in front of that iron bridge. The floor isn't solid; it's grated like a sewer cover, so anyone below could see straight up between my legs as I cross. No one's down there... right? It's not as dark as the downhill path I just came from—the store lights help—but the shadows under the bridge are pitch black, impossible to make out. Still, no cigarette smell, so probably no one's lurking. And even if someone is... seeing wouldn't be so bad. The thought of some stranger peeking up my skirt, stealing a glimpse of my panties without me knowing, sends delicious shivers down my spine. Haa... just don't let my panties get any wetter.
The grating clangs under my shoes with every step. I flinch at the sound echoing off the bridge. It feels like someone's going to hear and come rushing out to stare. But I glance around—no one bursts into view. Of course not. I'm not sneaking into somewhere off-limits; I'm just walking slowly. Who's gonna come check? Which means... if no one's coming anyway, I can do whatever I want, right...?
I slowly slide my hand up toward my chest. I cup my breast softly. But the stiff bra blocks me—I can't mash it into whatever shape I crave. Not enough stimulation. I wore it in case my nipples poked through, but maybe I shouldn't have... Should I just take it off? My heart pounds wildly. I want to ditch the bra, walk around in just my T-shirt and panties... But I can't lose it like I did my panties last time. Panties aren't cheap, and losing a matching set like today's would hit my wallet hard. The thought alone brings tears to my eyes. Next time, I'll come without anything at all. Swallowing my regret, I cross the bridge and head into the store.
Right at the entrance are several old green tables. Farther in, shelves line up with goods. The concrete floor's worn smooth from foot traffic, scattered with grit. A couple guys sit at the tables, slurping cup ramen while staring at their phones or thick textbooks. The Convenience Store Owner's at the counter, sorting receipts.
I didn't expect this many people... Seeing them gathered in the bright light suddenly makes the space between my legs feel so empty, so awkward. My heart thuds, a chilling thrill flooding my chest. They won't notice. Everyone's in casual short-sleeves and shorts anyway. Like pajamas. I'm just dressed light, same as them...
I step inside cautiously. The harsh fluorescent lights hit me, and people glance up briefly, notice me, then look away. The owner stares a bit longer, intense, until a receipt slips from his fingers and flutters down—he goes back to his work. Those fleeting gazes on my legs and chest... they feel so good. Haa, this is nice. Will they look again? Hoping for more, I pass the tables and head to the shelves—a spot fully visible from the counter.
What should I buy...? Haven't eaten dinner yet, so I need something. Can't go far dressed like this anyway—planned to grab a quick bite here. Shelves stocked with cup ramen varieties; gimbap by the counter. Not a real meal, but it'll do. Still, dressed like this, I don't want to just grab and go. Having someone watch... that'd be more fun.
I skip the food aisle for the sundries—slippers, towels, light clothes, all sorts of dorm essentials for students like me. Looking at them sparks filthy fantasies. What if I washed everything and had no choice but to come here in just underwear? Everyone stares in shock. Then they spot my soaked panties, sneer in disgust, call me out. "Perverted slut, lying just to show off." Hnngh, impossible, but it'd feel so good...
My panties, soaked to the limit, let a drop of slick trail down my thigh. My breasts swell with the thrill inside my bra—nipples hard, though the fabric hides them. Kneading earlier only tickled, didn't satisfy. No bra next time. Nothing on top means more stares, better rush. My craving mind settles on it again. Nothing I can do now... I glance around. This shelf's hidden from the counter; the guys at the tables can't see unless they turn. Back to them, I bend at the waist—no knees, just folding forward. My hem rides up naturally, flashing white panties.
Please look. Stop eating and turn around. There's a pervert right here. Upside-down, I see the guys buried in phones and books. No one notices the freak in their midst. I even wore white to stand out... Head rushes from the blood flow. I grab a bag of snacks from the floor, stand. The hem, bunched to my waist, doesn't fall fully—short shirt, no pants, so my panties peek from behind. A sane girl would fix it... but I don't want to. I want them to see nothing below but panties.
I grab the snacks and a cup ramen, head to the counter.
"Student, aren't you cold? You okay?"
Too much pale leg showing—he looks concerned. But his eyes don't leave them. Feels less like worry, more like an excuse to stare. Intense. Perfect. Just ogle me outright—no excuses needed.
"A little chilly, but stockings make it fine. Thanks for worrying."
No stockings, just panties. So turned on I don't feel cold. Thanks for the blatant stare. Words I can't say aloud swirl inside. I flash him a genuine smile from the thrill. As I lean in to set my stuff down, the counter blocks his view—his gaze drops.
"Good to hear. Nights are still cool—dress warm."
He scans like nothing happened. I pay with card, grab my stuff in both hands. Now to the tables... Turning means flashing my panties for sure. But sidling away sideways would look weird. No choice—gotta show them. Act natural, like I don't know. No problem. This is all my choice. Not getting caught off-guard mid-act, not some peeping tom. Even the owner knows my face from campus. Black shirt, white panties—no mistaking it for anything but underwear.
Heart racing. My pussy weeps with excitement, hot breath escapes. I turn slowly, walk to the table. No sound from behind. He doesn't warn me about the hem or tell me to cover—just silence. But his stare burns into my ass. Passing the seated guys, I stop by the wall water cooler. Did they see my panties? Or are they clueless, nose-deep in books? No way to know, but my body's heating up. Trembling hands rip open the ramen, pour hot water from the dispenser, crumple the trash.
Trash bin's on the floor beside it. Could toss from standing, but no—I bend at the waist again, no knees. Hem hikes higher. Maybe they see the wet spot in the middle now. The raw thrill feels amazing. Steam rises from the ramen like from my nose. I turn—catch a guy on his phone duck his head fast. Far off, the owner averts quick too.
They... all saw. They know I'm the freak wandering bottomless. Did they spot the wetness? Or not quite? Exposing my secret spots in public... I love this thrill. This lowly pleasure. I've shown everyone here I'm a pervert. Rumors could spread—but I can't stop. No one will forget tonight. Not me, not these guys, not the owner. Now that someone knows, those stares will follow me around campus. And that... makes me so happy.