me in the forest II

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I rise slowly from the swing. My legs are soft and weak, but it's not exhaustion.it's this arousal, this burning need. I press my knee against the rough bark of the tree, feeling it scrape against me, catching on my tights. I bend forward, hands on my thighs, staring at that empty path.
Do it, my inner voice tells me. Show them what you want. But it's insane… How would I look? Like some whore, like a cheap hooker standing on a street corner, only here, in the woods. A slut offering herself up. Like some loose bitch ready to be fucked for money.it's crazy, but god how I crave it. That word, whore, that feeling of being one courses through my thoughts and I don't feel shame, only stronger pounding low in my belly, moisture gathering there.That's how I look. Like a cheap whore. And that's exactly what I want to be right now. I feel my nipples hardening under my bra, pressing into the fabric like little stones. I breathe heavily, moaning softly. I'm so turned on, so ready to be used, to be fucked by the first person who takes me, that I can barely stay standing. My right hand drifts down. I grab the hem of my skirt and pull it up, centimeter by centimeter, all the way to my waist. Now I'm bent over, with my whole ass bare in my tights, exposed like some cheap slut prepared for fucking in a park.I'm not wearing panties. Just these torn tights.My other hand doesn't wait. I reach behind me, grab that ripped material and pull hard, obediently. The loud tearing of bursting threads, I rip the rest all the way to my waist. Now nothing protects my pussy or my ass… my slutty cunt. I'm completely exposed, bent over, with my ass presented toward the path like some common whore waiting for a client.That awareness that anyone could walk in, see me in this position,so ready, helpless, spread open,that thought brings me so close. I imagine his footsteps. A male silhouette stopping, seeing me like this… that loose, promiscuous whore, and he doesn't ask, just approaches from behind.