After my rape, my life changed. I dropped out of college and quit my job. I was afraid to be home alone so when my parents went to work, I would ride the subway for a few hours or walk around aimlessly downtown or in a park. Sometimes I'd go to museums and art galleries. I stopped wearing makeup and just tied my hair in bun. I didn't want to attract any attention so I only wore bulky sweatshirts and sweatpants. I hid from anything sexual and was too ashamed to touch myself. After a few weeks my parents sent me to a psychologist downtown a couple of times a week. Soon, I was getting more comfortable to be alone at home. She told me I was a beautiful, young woman and should dress more appropriately. It was hard at first but I started wearing skirts and nice tops again, doing my hair and wearing makeup. I still didn't like being looked at by guys but she said I should be proud and accept those looks as compliments. She even told me to masturbate. She said sexuality was important. I tried masturbating like she said but I felt dirty and ashamed. I could never get close to having an orgasm. After a few weeks of trying, the psychologist gave me a vibrator. She said it might reawaken my natural sexuality. I was surprised but willing to try. On the way home I felt like everybody on the subway knew I had a vibrator in my purse. I felt very embarrassed and hurried home. I got undressed and turned the vibrator on. It felt good on my cunt but all I could think about was my rape and maybe I got closer to orgasm but never came. My psychologist said I should relax and try the vibrator every day. I did as she said and over a couple of weeks it got better but I still felt dirty for doing it. I figured she was the professional so kept trying. I thought maybe watching porn would help so I started exploring the internet. Sitting in front of my computer, fucking myself with my vibrator while watching porn felt so wrong but I started having orgasms, nothing too intense, but soft, little orgasms. I was definitely drawn to girls being fucked hard and there was so much porn like that, I wondered if that was how it was supposed to be. All the girls seemed eager to show off their bodies and seemed to enjoy being sluts. Since they all shaved their cunts, I decided I should too. It definitely made my cunt more sensitive but I still couldn't make myself have a really good orgasm. After a couple of months, my dad moved out. He said he couldn't take my emotional outbursts. Sometimes I would just breakdown and cry. I felt guilty for making my parents split up. My mother tried her best. She let me go shopping pretty much whenever I wanted and even though I started smoking pot and drinking, she didn't say anything. I was still riding the subway alone and going for long walks but now I was dressing better. I even started trying to look sexy, wearing shorter skirts, more revealing tops. It still made me cringe when guys looked at me but I kept telling myself it was a compliment. It was obvious, though, that guys only paid me attention when I looked good enough to fuck. It occurred to me that if a guy wanted to fuck me, he'd have a hard cock. Maybe a hard cock was the best compliment of all. My psychologist said, deep down, we all want to be complimented. Some people get compliments because they're smart or successful or talented. Since I was none of those things, I decided the only way I could get complimented was making a guy get a hard cock and want to fuck me. Sure, it was degrading, humiliating, but maybe I could be good at it. The next day, after my mom went to work, I got dressed to go out, hoping I could make a guy get a hard cock. I put on my shortest jean skirt and tight white panties and was going to wear a tight, white tshirt but the only bra that looked good with it was in the wash. 'Fuck it,' I said to myself and pulled the tshirt on with no bra. It would be the first time since I started wearing a bra that I'd be outside without one. In my mom's room I found a pair of her heels and slipped them on. I was unsteady on my feet when I looked in the mirror. I definitely looked more like the sluts I watched on the internet. I had to smoke a bit of pot to get the nerve to go out. Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped onto the front porch. Walking down the street I was hyper-aware of how my tits jiggled with each step and, looking down, realized my nipples, getting hard now, were pretty obvious. Suddenly, I was terribly self-conscious and didn't think I could go on but a voice in the back of my head urged me forward. When I got to the subway station I could feel people looking at me but I just stared straight ahead. I thought it would be too overwhelming to go downtown because there would be too many people. I decided to take the train out to the suburbs where it would be less crowded. When I got down to the platform there were only a few people waiting. One guy in particular who was waiting, an average looking 30-something, blatantly checked me as I walked past him. Our eyes met briefly which made me feel uncomfortable and I just put my head down and walked toward the other end of the platform. The train came in and as I turned to step through the door I realized he had followed me and he got on the train behind me. I sat down and he took the seat directly opposite me. Looking up, he gave me a big grin. I tried to look confident and gave him kind of a half smile, then had to look away but as the train pulled out of the station it was obvious he didn't take his eyes off me. I sat motionless as his eyes moved up and down my body. With every motion of the train my tits jiggled, not a lot, but much more than they would if I was wearing a bra. A quick glance down confirmed my nipples were obvious to him. 'I bet he wants to fuck me,' I thought and I felt uncomfortable but tried to remember it was a compliment. I wondered if his cock was hard. Peeking from the corner of my eye I could tell he was looking at my legs, probably hoping to see up my skirt. As the train made a few more stops the car became almost empty though the man opposite remained. He kept staring and I realized I was getting horny. My cunt was getting moist and my nipples were stiff. Part of me wanted to curl up and hide but part of me wanted to lift my top and spread my legs, show him everything he wanted to see. I was ashamed to have such thoughts but I couldn't escape them. 'Only a slut would think that,' I said to myself. The train pulled into the last station and I got up and stood by the door. He came to stand right behind me, almost touching me. It made me shudder. He followed me down the platform and I felt unsteady and concentrated on keeping my balance. He got on the escalator behind me and I knew he was looking at my legs and ass. When we got to the top I didn't know what to do. I was planning to walk to a local park but I was afraid he would follow me. That scared me. I stood at the exit pretending I was waiting for someone. I hoped he would leave but he just leaned on the wall 10 feet away, looking at me. I felt trapped. After about 10 minutes I knew he was waiting to see where I would go. He wasn't trying to talk to me or pick me up. He was just watching me, waiting. Finally, I stepped outside to see what he would do. Sure enough, he followed me. There was a line of taxis at the side of the subway station and, thankful for an escape, I walked toward them. The drivers were all standing in the shade by the wall and one came out as I approached the taxis. 'Hello,' he said, opening the back door. He was an older Muslim man and gave me the same grin as the guy on the subway. 'Hi,' I said, uncomfortable as he leered at me. As I got in the taxi I struggled pull my skirt down but he definitely got a glimpse up my skirt. The way he stood, leaning forward when he held the door, I could tell he had done that before. As he walked around the taxi I looked out to see the guy from the subway against the wall, still watching. I realized I was trembling. In the small taxi, I found it hard to sit without exposing myself. My skirt was short and tight and with heels on, my knees were up high and I was too close to the front seat to comfortably cross my legs. The driver got in, turned to look at me between the front seats and smiled. 'Where pretty lady want to go?' he grinned. His eyes were all over me. I gave him my address and we pulled out of the station. As we drove, he kept turning around to look at me when he talked, locking his eyes on my tits, jiggling when we hit bumps, or looking at my legs as I struggled to keep my knees together in the swaying taxi. 'You go to boyfriend's house?' 'No,' I said, 'I don't have a boyfriend.' 'No boyfriend?' he said, 'sexy lady like you need boyfriend.' He grinned. I thought I could see his hand had moved to his crotch. In shock, I thought, 'he's got a hard cock and is rubbing it through his pants.' It was disgusting but my cunt clenched and moistened. There I was, feeling half naked, alone in a taxi with a driver playing with himself. It was humiliating but there was no doubt it was turning me on. 'Maybe I be boyfriend today?' he said, turning to leer at me again. I felt scared. He definitely wanted to fuck me but I suddenly felt very vulnerable. 'Remember, a hard cock is a compliment,' I said to myself. I wasn't ready to fuck anyone, certainly not an old, Muslim taxi driver, but my body was responding to his attention. 'No, thank you,' I said, trying to be polite. 'But you so pretty to look at,' he said as we stopped at a redlight. He turned to look at me and wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was rubbing himself. 'Maybe you show me,' he said and reached out, put his hand on my bare knee, and quickly nudged my knees apart before I quickly closed them tight. 'No, please don't do that,' I said, pushing his hand away. I was stunned. A horn honked behind us and the cab driver turned around and started to drive. Neither one of us spoke for a few minutes and I felt a bit light headed and uneasy. 'I'm sorry,' I said, 'I'm shy.' I don't know why I was apologizing. He should have apologized to me but, for some reason, I felt it was my fault. If I wasn't dressed like a slut he wouldn't have done it. I kind of deserved it. 'It's ok,' he said, 'but you dress like that, men look, they think things, like maybe you want to do a sex fuck. You not fair.' I didn't know what to say. My head was spinning with emotions. I felt guilty, dirty, horny, ashamed. He was right. I wasn't fair to him or the guy on the subway. Certainly, dressed like I was, guys are going to look. Afterall, that's what I wanted and it made my cunt wet and tingly. I was being selfish. A few minutes later we stopped in front of my house. He turned around so I could pay him and his eyes were all over me again as I took money out of my purse. I handed him some bills and, almost like I was in a trance, leaned back, opening my legs a few inches. 'Is this what you wanted to see?' I asked, whispering. 'Oh, pussy, pussy,' he said with a grin, and put his hand on the inside of my knee and gently pulled my knees wider. My cunt was on fire as he stared right between my legs while groping himself. I reached up to pinch my nipple as his hand creeped up my thigh and my legs parted wider. Suddenly, I heard a dog bark and looked up to see my neighbor walking her dog down the sidewalk toward the car. 'Oh, god,' I said, snapping my legs shut, and clambering out of the taxi. I was tugging my skirt down while holding my purse to my chest to hide my nipples. 'Everything ok, Lisa?' she asked. 'Oh, hi, Mrs. Jansen,' I said, flustered, 'fine, just in a rush.' I hurried up the walk, afraid to look back at the taxi driver or Mrs. Jansen. It was humiliating thinking my neighbor had seen the taxi driver put his hand up my skirt but, at that moment, I didn't care. I had to masturbate. I ran to my room, grabbed my vibrator and pulled my panties off. Flopping back on my bed, I jammed the vibrator up my cunt. I started to come immediately, rocking back and forth as I fucked myself. The orgasm started deep inside and exploded right to my head. Driving the vibrator in and out, I cried out, 'fucking slut, fucking slut, fucking slut.' My hips bounced and rolled with every thrust until, panting, the last quivers ran through my body. Lying back, the vibrator still inside me, I started to cry. I don't know if it was because I had degraded myself in front of two strange men or because finally, finally, I was able to have a strong orgasm. Probably a bit of both. I was ashamed I had to expose myself to strangers to get horny enough to come but it was such a relief to, at last, have the orgasm I tried so long have. As I laid back on my bed running through the day's events I was scared my life had taken a dangerous turn. I knew what I had done was wrong but I felt I was heading down a road I couldn't get off.