1 - Explorations
The late afternoon bus was crammed full like a sardine tin as usual, and full of cheerily chatting schoolgirls. My elbow mostly rubbed against some naked thighs or stubbed a cheeky buttock. Their school skirts were dark blue and quite short, their panties a simple regulation white if you got to see them - and I seemed to be a wizard in uncovering them. It was a nasty hobby, I knew, but the most fascinating for a young boy like me. This addictive attraction to panties and pussies, so I thought, was a major part of Mother Nature's plan of recreation.
Today my elbow caressed two silky thighs under a blue skirt on the left, slowly first, but then more demanding, lifting the seam a bit higher all the time. Yes: the knickers were clean white, and as tempting as ever! Some stupid girls rebelled against such a soft form of tenderness, but always ended up at the police station for hours of questioning and making statements. The clever girls just let it happen, to brag about it next morning in school. This one didn't seem to mind my elbow rubbing her pussy through the white cotton.
The bus swerved around a corner, and that was my time to move. Pretending to steady the rocking schoolgirl I reached around her back and decently hid my inquisitive hand under her skirt. Warm skin, unbelievable soft skin just below the panties - I was deeply touched by touching it. There was no sign of refusal - the merry chatter went on above my head - this promised to be good. Encouraged by her passivity I softly squeezed her little buttock through the thin fabric - and this was a secret pleasure that belonged only to the bold.
I felt up her back until I found the elastic waistband, and like a magician I slipped my hand underneath. She clenched her bum went I felt into the moist crack, but relaxed again when I just stroked her for a while without evil intention. On cue my other hand found her crotch and was teasing the slit of her sex through the stretched cotton. If she didn't move away this time she was mine. Again I slipped my hand under the seam and took hold of her pussy - no hair, peach skin, paradise! My heart was laughing, my face was smiling, and my dickel was as hard as a rock!
All kinds of intimacy, no matter how wanted or unwanted, seemed to impress on females, it weakened their moral defense and softened them into a pet-like obedience. Man was solidly imprinted in their genes as the predator and master - even if he was only in their own age - it was some kind of a natural pecking order - so I guessed? Sadly she was leaving me here high and dry, quickly rearranging her underwear, before stepping out of the bus. But my hunter instinct was awoken - and she might have known that?
Most molested girls visit the toilet block first after disembarking the bus. The sensitivity of their stimulated bladder and the slimy mess in their panties makes that a priority. It is also a perfect opportunity to present the molester with a second chance, if the foreplay was enticing or gentle enough to wake her hunting instincts too. It was a strange deranged play, but no video games or television movies could measure up to the excitement of this absolutely anonymous and completely unique adventure!
She wore her black hair in two cute plaits, and had a quite handsome face, I realised when she spied over her shoulder to make sure that I was still following her. Her long legs were shapely and her white socks as clean as fresh snow. The blue skirt was riding high on her swinging hips, and a frequent bright flash of her panties kept me as safely in tow like a heavy bulldozer chain - I was hooked. I slipped in behind her into the toilet stall and locked the door, and for the first time we really looked at each other. Now she suddenly seemed afraid of the intimacy in the small cubicle and the realisation that she had actually cornered herself.
»I just need to pee!«, she whispered with a soft blush. »I know!«, I answered, »and I'm here to help you!« She was standing in the corner like a trapped rabbit, her mind full of girlish inhibitions, her heart though full of yearning to be touched again in forbidden places, and her bladder excited to burst. We were so close now that I could smell her fear, the sweet taste of virginity, the sweaty scent of arousal, and the musky fragrance of submission. I kissed her on the mouth like a lover does, long and wet with a lot of tongue, and such a simple overture mostly diminished every residue of resent - she melted like wax under my hot fingers!
I told her to hold her skirt up and stuck both of my hands deep into her cute white panties. With one I groped her hairless pussy in the front and with the other one I stimulated her little asshole in the back - my sweet victim trembled under this unexpected double attack like the last dry leave on the branch in the autumn wind. Then she came for me, she let her water flow in a hot flood all over my fingers, wetting her pretty knickers, her white socks and black shoes. This was my favorit moment, and I nearly came into my own underpants as well.
If you can manage that girls soil themselves the following shame renders them as soft as putty in your hands, makes them your slave by sheer embarrassment. So I took her by the hand, led her down through the park to the river, and to secluded dark spot under the end of the pedestrian bridge. I told her to undress, what she started willingly like in a trance. She unbuttoned her shirt, wore a tiny sports bra, but as I had expected, she didn't sport any breasts underneath. But a loud noise just above us made her freeze - and then she run away . . .
2 - Frustrations
I was extremely frustrated, and with an utter contempt for the female sex I swore bitter vengeance. At home my ugly stepmother was the same witch as ever, and she hassled my endlessly because of a simple ink stain on my school pants. My older stepsister Lu was the usual bitch, bossy and bully, dominating me as if I was her teddy bear! My father was most times far away on his so-called business to sell western female underwear. Like father, like son - I thought - nothing comes from nothing! As sooner you recognise your inheritance the more time you have to accept it - I tried to be wise for a moment!