Confessions of a Woman

I am a whore. In high school if I learn that some classmate of mine has a crush on me I’ll invite him to the prayer room after the flag ceremony on Mondays. Disrespectful and immoral but that is the only place in campus (where nobody seems to go) that I can seduce him and let him touch my breasts; his hands will tremble while touching them and I will love the tension. Slowly my hands will be in contact with his crotch and he will moan while I touch him. He will beg for more but I will stop and give him a tender kiss on the cheeks. He will scream in agony. I will walk away triumphant, knowing that I am irresistible and nobody can have me.

Many try to love me; every one of them fails. I always think that I am born to be an object of adoration (just that). Young men (virgins) need me; I give them the experience they want. Men of age want a young girl so I pose as a college student even if I never went to the university near the ladies dormitory where I stay.
Every morning I go home to the dormitory and notice a young man. His hair is long and pony-tailed, he will look at me with piercing eyes and it never fails to heat up what’s between my thighs. For once, I want him.

He unexpectedly grabs me and directs me to the storeroom. There he rips my clothes and I try to resist but I just cannot: He is mine. He starts caressing my breasts with his strong firm hands. Each movement has an equivalent moan. I feel his buttocks and knead them like a baker’s dough. He goes down and licks me. I touched my breasts. Every time he thrusts his tongue inside me I gasp for breath. Then without warning…

I farted.

It ended there. I wanted him but he always ignored me after that.

Embarrassing.