Pretend to sleep and hope for the best

You've always been one to avoid confrontation and you stick to that strategy with this sexually aggressive pervert. You tense visibly but manage to keep your head against the window and pretend to be still sleeping, only wishing that you could recoil from him. You can hear him muttering to himself, occasionally catching phrases like 'you want me to fuck you, white girl?' and 'you look old enough to have a black baby'. You feel a grimace creep across your face as you contemplate what he says, but try to maintain a serene face, eyes squeezed shut as you hope it ends soon...

You feel his breath on your neck as he leans in to climax. You involuntarily gasp as his grunts are accompanied by a strange sensation as you feel something warm land on your exposed arm and leg. You yearn to investigate, but know you can't give it away that you're awake, even as he roughly rubs up against your naked thigh. Hoping that it's over, you crack one eye and peer at what he's done, and notice that your legs, skirt and blouse are splattered with steaming ejaculate. You see his rough dark hand has scooped a large dollop of the creamy spunk from the front of your skirt before his hand disappears down between your legs. You emit a little yelp as you feel his sausage fingers suddenly push your panties aside and plow roughly between the lips of your tight pink vagina, massaging a sampling of his negro seed into your young virgin body in a final act of humiliation and defilement.

You cling to the untenable illusion of sleep, your head turned away from him so he doesn't see your silent tears. His baby batter lubricates his fingers sufficiently to allow him to push them into you by a couple of inches more, but as this is your first violation, it feels much deeper. Finally, his fluids deposited, he rises from the seat, fastens his trousers, grabs something from the overhead luggage rack, and disappears from the bus at the next stop.

A few moments later you determine that this is also your stop and, mortified by the quantity of visibly gooey residue still soaking into the fibers of your recently clean clothes, you disembark without making eye contact with the driver or any of the other passengers. The bus has already pulled away when you realize...