The realization of how dangerous my own thoughts had become caught even me off guard.

Was I really this naturally wanton?

Growing up, everyone around me had seen me as a good girl—the kind who didn't even know how to play. But beneath that mask lay a truly unrestrained heart.

My gaze locked onto a muscular man with a buzz cut standing in the hall. He wore a pair of sunglasses, and his solid physique made my entire body grow even wetter. God, I wanted him to cup my hips with those strong hands and let me feel what it was like to be lifted into the air. Then, with all my weight, I wanted to slam myself down onto his throbbing hardness.

It would feel incredible, wouldn't it?

Just thinking about it made my desires burn even hotter. I wanted to know what it felt like to be taken by force.

There are so many girls in this world who've been violated. Why couldn't I be one of them?

The second that thought surfaced, I realized my mind was plunging into an even darker abyss. I'm still an innocent college student. How could I stoop so low as to want a man to overpower me?

I'm still a virgin, not because no one wants me, but because I'm always so composed around others. I never even give a man the chance to speak with me. But people like me are exactly the ones with the biggest contrast. Cold as ice on the surface, yet inside, more desperate for excitement than anyone.

In the privacy of that restroom, I peeled back the layers of my psyche one by one, letting all my repressed desires come flooding out.

Go ahead—isn't this what men love most? A woman in heat? Fill me up hard, make me lose control.

I twisted my hips wildly, slipped a finger inside, and pretended it was a man's anatomy, rubbing relentlessly against that shameful place. My body became like a faucet, gushing and bubbling nonstop, until the floor beneath me was soaked.

Right then, the buzz-cut man suddenly turned his head and stared right at me through his sunglasses. My heart jolted. He was looking directly at my most intimate area. But thank God it was one-way glass—he couldn't actually see me. Still, being watched like that only intensified my shame. So I spread my legs even wider, even parted myself to reveal the more hidden parts within.

He had no idea that behind that glass, a young woman was exposing herself to him. This feeling—being free from all moral concerns, letting my deepest urges run wild—was incredible.

The buzz-cut man watched for a moment, then stood up and walked toward the restroom. He probably just needed to use it. Just the thought of him on the other side of the wall, pulling out that thing, made my legs go weak.

What do I do? My body aches for it now—I can't hold back anymore.

Suddenly, I felt the restroom door behind me being opened. I flung it open, ready to curse out whoever it was. But to my shock, standing there was the buzz-cut man himself.

How dare he walk into the women's restroom?

Before I could react, he pushed the door wide and stepped inside, pressing his massive chest tightly against me. Alone with a man in such a cramped space, my heart began pounding wildly. Thankfully, I'd had the sense to fix my skirt when I stood up, so nothing was exposed.

I nervously looked into his eyes beneath those sunglasses. "Wh—why are you in the women's restroom? Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"

He stepped closer, his towering frame completely blocking me in. "You're not afraid of flashing yourself in public, but I'm supposed to be scared of walking into a women's restroom?"

Hearing that, a chill ran through my entire body. How did he know? Wasn't this one-way glass?

Seeing the shock on my face, he said with a smirk, "These sunglasses let me see right through the glass from the outside. Every move you made in there—I saw it all."

My heart dropped. So when I spread my legs, when I parted myself for him… he saw everything?

He yanked up my short skirt. I hadn't worn anything underneath.

"Don't you just love exposing yourself? Go on. Show me."

I clamped my thighs together in panic, scrambling to explain. "No—it's not what you think. I'm not that kind of woman."

"Don't bother pretending. The floor's soaking wet. You looked right at me while spreading your legs—isn't that what you wanted?"

My pupils contracted sharply. He had seen it all.

Then he slapped my ass hard, his strong arm wrapping around my hips. "Turn around. Arch it higher. I like this position."

Ordered around like that, I felt my body move on its own—bending over, pushing my hips up. The posture made me burn with even more shame. There was a man standing right behind me.

Was I really going to find out what it felt like to be a woman today?

The next second, I heard the sound of his pants coming down. Then came a scorching, swelling pressure.

Oh gosh…