17. Graffiti 1 (4)
Thankfully, the man's gaze doesn't turn my way. He just keeps staring at the innocent semen stains and the alley beyond. Tsk, he clicks his tongue, grabs his dolphin shorts, and tosses them carelessly onto the ground before sitting on the swing. The shorts spin lazily before landing on the urethane mat. I'd put them up there to shake off the dirt...
But now they're filthy again. That's when I spot the boxy T-shirt I took off earlier, dropped on the ground too. It's not all the way down on the urethane, but the playground equipment is plenty dirty. A white shirt like that would get grimy in seconds...
I can't just pick it up right now. If I turn my head from the swing, there's no wall or anything—he'd see everything. If he caught me grabbing the T-shirt, there'd be no hiding. That would be a real disaster. Who knows what he'd do if he saw me like this, looking like some pervert. He could touch me however he wants, snap photos and post them online. No, that might be lucky compared to what the graffiti says—getting beaten or losing my virginity right here...
But every time my heart pounds, a tiny thrill bubbles up. At first it was small—well, not that small since I'd been fantasizing and masturbating—but the excitement keeps growing. Pervert... I'm a total pervert. I came all the way here, drawing this trashy graffiti on myself because I wanted to get caught on the edge like this. I didn't plan on getting caught completely naked, but even if I did... wouldn't that be okay? Like last time, maybe nothing would happen?
Shame fills my body, tickling my lower belly. Hot breath laced with arousal rises to my chin. I'm suffocating. No way. There's no way nothing would happen. Getting caught like this would be horrific, no matter what. I chose the worst graffiti on purpose—I can't expect him to just let it slide. Self-loathing and humiliation wash over me. Maybe a pervert like me deserves to get caught and abused. I'll ruin my life with this stupid stunt. Photos of the graffiti go online, rumors spread through the neighborhood... everyone at school finds out. I wouldn't be able to show my face anymore. Even if I ran to another town, those photos would follow me forever.
A dizzy pleasure starts between my legs, stimulating my whole body. Just imagining it makes sticky fluids leak out, soiling my thighs. I'd live my life labeled a pervert slut, an outdoor exhibitionist. Even I can smell how slutty the air around me feels—musty yet somehow sweet. My exhales carry heated warmth. My whole body burns. My chest tightens inside.
If I'm going to get caught looking this way anyway... I want to get caught looking like the pervert trash I am. Still crouched, I slowly spread my legs. The graffiti on my inner thighs, my frothy white virgin pussy—everything opens toward the man. I support my body with one arm as I lean back further. Legs wide open, breasts fully exposed, I thrust myself toward the swing, toward him.
My heart thunders through my body. Look at me, please look. There's a pervert here who gets off on showing herself. Touch me however you want. Like the graffiti says—touch, take photos. Slap my tits. Punish this pervert. Give me my worst first time as punishment... yes, right here in this state, make my first time horrific. Call your friend over too. I'll give you my untouched pussy completely. I'm the kind of girl who draws filthy graffiti for the thrilling risk of getting caught outside. You can ignore it and do whatever. I'm cheaper than a whore—a worthless rag.
Crazed thoughts flood my mind. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. All that comes up are these words. A normal girl wouldn't even step outside like this, and if she lost her virginity in a situation like this, she'd probably kill herself. Makes sense. Getting caught like this means no one treats you like a person—just a slut to use.
But the dirty thoughts won't stop. Cravings to get caught, to be fucked however they want—they fill my head. Even though I have no idea what would happen if it really happened. They just won't leave my mind. The man, bored, swings his legs idly, his gaze wandering around.
Ah, our eyes meet. He startles, freezes, then his eyes widen. He rubs them like he can't believe what he's seeing. But I'm not going anywhere. He jumps up. The swing rocks wildly now that his weight is gone. But I don't have time to watch it—he's coming toward me.
"What the hell are you doing right now?"
"I-I wanted to show it off..."
"To who? To me?"
What should I say? I polish the words rolling in my mouth to make them even dirtier, sluttier.
"Anyone..."
I want this guy in front of me to despise me. I want him to curse me with pervert-hating eyes—it'd feel so good. That's why I said it on purpose. His gaze travels from my head down past my chest to my lower abdomen. His lips move like he's reading the words on my thighs.
"Hmm. Did you write this yourself? What do you even call this—pervert?"
How do I defend myself with this graffiti and my legs spread wide? I can't argue.
"...Y-yes."
Pervert, that's right. A pervert standing naked outside with obscene graffiti all over her. As I nod slightly, adding that in my mind, the man's expression changes. From troubled confusion to faint disgust, like he's looking at an animal, not a person—contemptuous, dismissive. His lips twist, eyes turning cold. His hand shoots out.
Not fast, but with clear intent, reaching for me. I don't move. My heart pounds with anticipation, it's the first time a man's touching me... and I just want it that way, so I stay still, offering myself obediently. His hand is bigger than I thought—easily big enough to cover half my face. He grabs the breast without a bruise. No gentleness for a woman at all—rough, squeezing hard to feel the texture. It hurts. Of course it does when he pinches like that.
But even through the pain, my breast fills with excitement. Every time he grabs and releases the soft flesh, every stab of pain brings something else. Pure pleasure blooming from agony. The depravity of letting a stranger do whatever to my body. Feeling like an object, not a person. A toy just for this man's pleasure. Everything denies my worth as a human, drags my mood to rock bottom... but that gap, that plummeting sensation, excites me so much. Transparent fluid leaks from between my legs again, wetting my body.
"Leaking like a faucet. Total mess, you pervert bitch."
He twists and pinches my nipple between thumb and forefinger, then reaches down with his other hand. Soon, his fingers grab my flushed pussy lips. The first touch of another person on my secret spot—even rough, without any care for me... no, especially because of it?—it's pure, ecstatic bliss. Every squeeze sends intense pleasure crashing through my body. My hips twist on their own.
"Ahh... th-that, ugh, nngh!"
A moan I've never heard before bursts from my mouth. The man looks startled by the sudden sound. Then he rubs the slick fluid coating his fingers between thumb and forefinger.
"They say a woman's here is sensitive. Guess it's true."
His eyes narrow slightly. What, what's he thinking? He wipes his fingers on my lower belly, then rests his hand on his waist. A metallic jingle as whatever's holding his pants up unfastens. That's when I realize what he's planning. Right here, outside, he's going to fuck me—this pervert. No mercy even though it's my first time, just using me to get off... to vent his lust. Even if I came out naked with filthy graffiti, spreading my pussy—this treatment is insane...
I didn't come to this school to get treated like this... But it wasn't just flashing accidentally through loose clothes either—I drew the obscene graffiti and came out naked. Isn't that unavoidable? Maybe this is what I deserve, like getting punished for stealing...
Horrible thoughts creep in. So I just stare blankly as his zipper opens. His huge—wait, no—his manhood appears in front of my obediently waiting self. The first one I've ever seen is... smaller than I thought. Huh? It's not huge like I expected. Aside from the size, it looks like a baby's dick.
"What the—no, why is it like this?"
The soft, cute little thing, wrapped in thick skin, shakes in front of me. The first manhood I've seen isn't grotesque at all—it's squishy-looking, almost adorable. Even as he grabs and shakes it frantically, it shows no sign of hardening or growing.
"C-come on... ugh...!"
How long did I stare? The sun has dipped between the buildings, and it's getting dark. Against the dim backdrop, the sight of him jerking his tiny dick up and down looks ridiculous. Just moments ago I was tense about getting raped or turned into a toy—now my body relaxes completely. I could run now.
With my mind eased, I grab the fallen boxy T-shirt. Luckily it's within reach. It's covered in black dust and my own fluids, filthy... but at least it'll cover me. I pull it on quick, yanking it down low to hide as much as possible, especially the graffiti.
"Ha..."
As I fumble with the shirt, the man sighs deeply. His eyes on me brim with disappointment and desire. He wants to pin me down right now, but his junior won't cooperate—he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration.
"O-oh, please forget about today."
If I linger, he'll grab me again. I bolt upright and run. Good thing it's a kids' playground with entrances on multiple sides. Even as I scoop up the dolphin shorts he tossed far away, he just stands there, pants down, dick out. He watches me with lingering regret in his eyes.
I have no idea where I lost my slippers. Barefoot, clutching the dolphin shorts without putting them on, I just run.