My lewdness in my second year of high school

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That was when I was a sophomore in high school, 17 years old. I was lonely, but not really that lonely. My beautiful face, full and shapely figure, and slightly flirtatious manner always attracted a group of boys eager to get close to me.

Actually, I was rather precocious, perhaps because I secretly watched the videotapes my father kept hidden. I already knew what sex was, and how pleasurable it was to have fingers or hard objects inserted into my genitals. To

be honest, I once masturbated alone in front of a videotape for three hours, imagining huge, thick penises like those in the film being inserted repeatedly. After ejaculating seven or eight times, I reluctantly cleaned up the mess.

I also knew how to arouse boys' desires. Although the high school uniform was rigid and old-fashioned, I had a way of making my own proud figure attract many greedy eyes. I deliberately wore only thin underwear, letting my nipples press against my shirt, their beautiful and alluring roundness igniting a fire in the boys' eyes. My skirt only reached three centimeters above my knees, but I would deliberately stand on high ground, making the boys below look up, the bright red light inside enough to make their noses bleed.

I knew they all wanted to rape me, wanted to pin me to the ground, tear my clothes, rip off my underwear, and then… I often thought, “Come on, come on, do what you want!” But they didn't dare, they really didn't dare! Boys of that era were truly accustomed to shyness; they thought about it, but actually doing it was extremely difficult for them. They could only gossip behind my back, gazing at my alluring body and fantasizing.

I often found myself unconsciously mocking them, staring coldly, with a hint of provocation, at their slightly swollen genitals until they couldn't bear it any longer and ran off somewhere to "de-swell."

Of course, there were also some delinquent-like boys who thought themselves dashing and charming, and these were more likely to pique my interest. But usually, their grades were terrible, and with my excellent academic background, becoming my boyfriend was out of the question. However, I was happy to let them have a taste of the sweetness.

At some dances, I was a regular. I liked to have them caress my buttocks while I wrapped my arms around their necks, pressing my full breasts close to their broad chests, and then experiencing the pleasure of my legs gradually being rubbed by their hard objects. I could vaguely see them slowly getting erect, and sometimes I even noticed a small wet patch on my legs.

When I encounter someone I like, I'll subtly suggest they go into the bathroom first. Once they're back, they'll eagerly pin me against the wall, pull up my shirt, drag down my underwear, and frantically press their lips to my breasts, filling my lower body with their already hot, hard erections.

However, I usually don't take the initiative. I'll just coldly lift my face slightly, staring at a fixed point on the ceiling, waiting for it all to end. It's not that I dislike sex; it's just that as soon as they penetrate me, I start sighing, knowing I'll have to take care of myself at home.

I never sleep with the same person twice, because none of them are worth it. But because of this, I flit among these men like a butterfly, enjoying princess-like treatment. I don't kiss them, much less perform oral sex, which makes them grit their teeth in hatred, but because they still hold onto a sliver of hope for another encounter, they all keep quiet.

I lost my virginity in my first year of high school, but I was still treated like a princess at school, admired by everyone. No one would imagine that I had been with more than a dozen boys.

However, none of these boys ever satisfied me, not even those on the track, basketball, and soccer teams. Sexually, all they could give me was a deeper self-discovery—I think I'm the kind of girl with an extremely high sex drive, and these little boys could never satisfy me, especially when I had to go home and fend for myself after they'd had their way.

By my second year of high school, I was less inclined to play these games; it just made me feel worse. In fact, I actually felt an indescribable pleasure from letting them fantasize about raping, penetrating, and fucking me, especially under the watchful eyes of everyone. It felt like I'd been gang-raped a hundred times in a single day. Can you imagine the feeling of hundreds of penises squeezing into my tight little hole at once?

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My lewdness in my second year of high school

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