0 comments/ 129060 views/ 8 favorites How I Became an Exhibitionist By: sluttyally My mother used to tell me, "Guys only want to go out with you for sex." I'm starting this story with my mother because I've received tons of emails about my Grand Prix stories, and several people - including 2 women I'm happy to say! - have asked about how I became so daring in showing off. Mum always was a sexy woman - still is, in fact. She has heaps of wise things to say about men and women, some of it a bit tongue in cheek: * "Men usually fall in lust first, then love"; * "Girls need to know just two things to get any guy they want - first, how to be a good conversationalist and, second, how to walk in high heels"; * "On a date, when men get tired of talking about themselves, they want something to look at while you talk about yourself." Knowing this, I've always made sure I showed off when I went on dates. This generally involved wearing as little as I could get away with. One of my first boyfriends, Jason, used to tell me off for the skirts I'd wear. Once, we were going to a movie and, as a skirt, I wore this piece of silver stretch material about 8 inches wide I'd bought in a fabric shop sale for $2. "Bloody hell, everyone can see your butt! Can't you cover it up a bit?" I used to smile and think, "That's the whole idea, dummy!" I loved the looks I'd get, especially from guys roughly my age, but even from a few of the guys who must have been around mum's age, or even older! One of my favourite outfits for years has been a thin, tight black t-shirt and a really low slung pair of hipster pants. Walking down the street, my tits would bounce around and, when I started to learn wearing high heels, they'd stick out even more. "You know I encourage you to look your best, but you don't have to show that much midriff!" mum would sometimes say, when I'd unzip the pants an inch or two and fold the bottom of the t-shirt up. Most of the guys, Jason included, got really jealous of the looks I'd get. "I feel like I'm going out with some kind of slut!" Jason would sometimes say. "Don't you like it?" I'd ask him, "Some guys pay to go out with sluts Jase!" I never understood guys. They were all really interested in you looking sexy while they chased you but, when they thought they had you, they'd get all possessive, like Jase. "Show us your tits!" guys would sometimes yell at me if I walked past sticking my chest out in one of my tight tops. "Show me your dick, idiot!" I'd usually yell back. I guess I've always loved teasing guys; I'd go out on group dates with a bunch of girls and guys and I'd love upstaging everyone. "Wow!" the boys would say, "Great skirt!" Until I grew out of it, my favourite skirt used to be a striped pink one; it was a 10-inch number and hugged my butt nicely. It was impossible to sit modestly in it: I'd sit cross-legged on a bench in a park, or at McDonalds, and it'd bunch up around my waist, showing my taut panties. Some of the girls would give me dirty looks and say sarcastic things like, "So you think you're pretty hot stuff, don't you?" Once or twice, this really jealous girl, Frances, would say something like, "Go on, I dare you to walk around town without your briefs on!" I wasn't brave enough to do this, but I had fun pretending I didn't even know what was showing when I'd sit cross-legged just chat to the guys. Their eyes couldn't be ripped away from my pussy, especially when I acted like there was an itch on my thigh and had to rub it. "Let's go to the movies!" I'd say, if one of the cute guys was part of our group, knowing that I could casually sling a leg over the knee of the guy sitting next to me. Predictably, within two seconds, his hand would all over my legs, sometimes even probing my pussy! I eventually started having sex because I figured it wasn't worth the trouble to fight the guys off. Sometimes, I even enjoyed it, when they took the trouble to give me some pleasure. Most of them just liked being seen with a young chick who dressed sexily. It meant, though, that I got to go to some cool places, especially when I started to be a bit more daring with my outfits. One guy, Bevan, a radio DJ, took me to an opening of a bar and said, "Dress really sexy for this one 'cos you won't be the only one!" So I borrowed mum's sewing machine and made myself this leopard skin fur bikini, just a little one to hold my tits in place and hide my pussy. "What do you think?" I asked Bevan, modelling it for him in the high heels he'd given me as a gift. He almost spluttered his drink right out at me and looked speechless. "If I was to lean backward like this onto the bar," I went on, "and push my hips out, can you see behind the fur?" You see, I like clothes that I can squirm around in to reveal my hidden charms: g-strings so brief they run inside my pussy lips and that you could only see when I parted my legs under a tiny skirt; low-cut spaghetti strap tops that gape when I lean over, occasionally spilling my tits out altogether. When Bevan and I got there, it was a bit tricky to get through the crowd to the door. Dressed the way I was, no door bitch ever got in my way, so we got in quickly. They knew it was good for business to have sexy things like me walking around. And I did more than just walk around . . . Once I'd shaken Bevan off I had fun going up to guys standing at the bar and saying, in my cutest little girl voice, "Would you buy me a drink, please?" They nearly always said yes and then I'd sit up on the bar, facing them, with my tits just being held in by my furry top and my furry leopard pussy right there in front of them. Some guys couldn't help themselves and would start to stroke my legs, or even grab my tits. I'd pretend to be offended, "What are you doing!?" They'd look sheepish and mumble something but then I'd add, "Whatever it is, it feels great!" and put their hand back where it was. The third guy I did this with was pretty cute and he had his fingers inside my bikini bottoms before I knew it. "Hey, you gotta wait until a girl's turned on a little," I told him. "Just 'cos you are, doesn't mean I am - yet." Just then, Bevan came up and saw that something was happening. He started yelling stuff at me and grabbed this guy to take him outside for a fight. Luckily, the bouncers came and saved them both. Before I left Bevan for good that night, I told him, "It drives me crazy that you guys get that jealous. It's my body, isn't it? I never said to anyone I was theirs alone!" Around that time, I went out with plenty of guys and, whenever they'd want to buy me something, I'd always ask them for clothes. I'd say, "That way, if you buy me something sexy, you get some of the benefit too!" One guy, Mark, was a real raver and he'd take me to these parties with incredible techno music. A lot of the girls there were slim and athletic (all those party drugs!) and they'd wear really tight, fluoro clothes for dancing. For my birthday, Mark took me to a dance party. He told me to show off as much as I dared, "I'll buy you whatever you need to do your best!" So we went shopping and I tried on this silver bodysuit which fitted me like a glove. You could just see the dark bits of my nipples through it and, if I hadn't shaved my pussy hair, you could have seen that too. "I like the way the seam parts my lips Mark!" I purred as I spread my legs in the shop to show him. The sales lady didn't quite know where to look as I paraded up and down the mirrors and bent over to see how my pussy looked. "Look, Mark, when I bend over, the fabric stretches so it's almost see through!" Mark grinned and the sales lady just turned bright red, which I loved. Anyway, we had a great time. I danced and danced in this outfit and got groped all over. One guy I took behind some pot plants and let him lick me to orgasm through my bodysuit! When I met Mark fifteen minutes later he looked down and said, "Well, what's been going on down there?" I looked down and saw that the whole bodysuit had changed colour where it was damp; my pussy lips could clearly be seen pressing against the fabric. "Spilled my drink, Mark," I said, giggling. "Sure, honey, sure," he said, without much of a smile. Another jealous type, I could see that. Time to piss him off, I thought to myself. Probably the most important event in me becoming a real exhibitionist happened about a year ago, when I met this incredibly sexy girl at a party. She was wearing strappy shoes so high she could hardly walk in them and a yellow satin minidress which probably started life as a slip. Whenever she took a step, her dress would ride up at the back, showing that she wore no panties. I stared and stared at her and couldn't believe how open she was. She took a liking to me straight away, because she introduced herself with a smile, "Hi, I'm Jackie!" "Hi Jackie. Hey, I love your dress; you must have the guys drooling all the time!" She smiled as if to say yes, smoothed the front of it down across her thighs and we started chatting. I learned that Jackie never wore panties - never! - and the only shoes she owned (besides running shoes) were four and five inch heels. "I've got a bit of a reputation as an exhibitionist with my friends but, really, who gives a shit?" she said. I loved her attitude and it made me feel much bolder about showing off. I watched her lean over to get drinks from the fridge, her pussy fully exposed to the crowded room. I was totally amazed when she sat in a lounge chair and pulled both feet up on the seat of her chair, making sure all the people opposite could see her pierced clit. "I can hardly remember a time I went to a party or a club and didn't take my dress off," Jackie laughed. Jackie was the perfect person to ask about my biggest flirt problem. "How do you get rid of the dickheads who hassle you, though?" "Make sure you stay in a public place, go out with a friend or two, or make a friend who'll protect you. Any of those should work." "You and I should hit the town together some time, huh?" I suggested. So Jackie and I started hanging out together at clubs, at parties, and just wandering the streets in search of fun. We always got propositioned, of course, but Jackie's tongue would shut up most of the guys we didn't want anything to do with. "You got a cock to match that little car of yours?" was one of her favourites. She really taught me a lot about showing off in public. The fact that it was legal to wear a g-string bikini on the street. Which clubs would let you dance on top of the bar without panties on. How to walk in the highest heels imaginable. How to sit in the shortest skirts without panties on. How to pick the best guys to flirt with. That whole summer, I never saw Jackie wear a skirt that completely covered her butt. "Why should I?" she'd say. "I work on it at the gym hard enough. People should see it. You should show yours too." I wasn't that brave, but Jackie really liked an outfit of mine she called "little slut." I'd totter around in very high white strappy shoes, thigh high white stockings, and a tiny skirt, showing several inches of bare brown upper thigh. If I wore my hair up, I looked really young and I'd experiment with different tops. "Wear a boob tube, go on!" Jackie would often say. "I love seeing your tits bounce around." She especially liked this white one I had. Basically it was a strip of fabric which just covered my nipples, although I had to adjust it every five minutes because my boobs bounced around too much without a bra. Despite her smaller tits, Jackie would wear a matching boob tube and we'd hit the clubs together. "Hey, look at this," Jackie said to me one day. She was holding a leaflet to a club night called "Sexy Summer." They were offering prizes to people who had the best outfits. "Let's do it!" I said. "We'll be right at home, huh?" "It's not often you get an excuse to go out in public almost totally naked," Jackie giggled. Getting ready on the night, I was amazed at Jackie's thong: it was simply a V which met between her legs and then the arms of the V went over her shoulders. Her tits were free to swing about and the little bit of fabric at the bottom just covered her slit. "Wow!" was all I could say when she twirled on her heels: the slightest movement caused the fabric to ride up between her shaved pussy lips. Jackie simply looked down, gently stroked herself with a finger, looked at me, and giggled. I was wearing a backless white dress, but Jackie persuaded me to wear one of her bikinis: tiny triangles of white fabric joined up with silver chains. "C'mon, it's 'sexy summer'! You're smooth and tanned all over; this is perfect for a flawless girl like you!" she said. I still wasn't sure. I put on Jackie's highest heels and looked at myself in the mirror as I ran my hands up and down my body. "This is outrageous!" I laughed. "Your tits are quite a bit smaller than mine, I feel like I'm going to fall out without even trying! Can we get away with this?" "Of course we can; let's go!" "Shall we wear anything over the top? I think I need at least a skirt." I was thinking of the walk from the carpark to the club. "Nope - we don't. It's a warm evening - let's get a few stares on the way," said Jackie mischievously. We found a car parking spot just 200 metres from the front of the club so we didn't have far to walk, clinging on to each other as we hobbled in our dangerously high heels. "Jackie, it feels like the whole street is watching us," I whispered to her. "It's great, isn't it?" she said, grinning with excitement. Once the door staff saw us, we were let in straight away and were served drinks. We danced together for a couple of songs, at the end of which Jackie's outfit had slid fully between her pussy lips and I'd had to work hard to keep my tits in. "Could I take your photos girls? On that sofa over there?" a short dark guy asked us. "Sure!" Jackie said to him; she took my hand and wiggled her hips provocatively as she led me to the sofa. On the way, she whispered, "Let's show off to him for a bit." I watched incredulously as Jackie turned up the heat for the photos. She lay draped over my lap, her legs slightly apart and started caressing her almost naked body, letting out the occasional moan. "Look at everyone watching!" Jackie whispered to me between flashes. Sure enough, about 30 people were standing around the sofa, several of them girls like us in skimpy swimwear. The photo guy kept clicking away as Jackie's hands started to wander to me. She grabbed my tits and it didn't take much for them to fall free of the bikini top. The only reason she didn't pull my g-string off was because she was lying on top of me! Some guy even leaned down and started squeezing my tits too, until I gave him a dirty look. Finally the photo guy had finished. "Jackie, are you done?" I asked her. She didn't respond but just remained sprawled on top of me, one leg up on the back of the couch, her hand resting over her pussy. She grinned at the photo guy. "Do you girls work?" he asked. Jackie and I looked at each other as if to make sure of what he meant. "Not in the way that you mean," said Jackie, smiling. "We just like to enjoy ourselves," she added, removing her hand and looking down at her pussy, which was visibly wet. This guy went on to tell us he does hot photos for websites and hangs out at clubs to find women who'll pose for him. As he talked on, Jackie just lay there, gently sliding her finger in and out of her slit. "Would you two dance for me on the floor and I'll put another roll of film in?" Before I could even think of what to reply, Jackie sat up and said, "Sure!" We adjusted our shoes and teetered over to the dancefloor. Our tits were still out and Jackie hadn't bothered to hide her pussy from view. A couple of the other girls were clearly getting a bit horny too, because they'd taken their tops off and came to dance with us. Plenty of guys groped us as we walked past - or as we danced on the floor. Jackie didn't seem to mind at all and even let one guy finger her while he danced with her. "You know, Jackie, just letting my tits swing free while I dance is such a cool feeling!" I laughed. "It's great, huh, babe? Look at you! You've got more jewellery than clothes on!" I caught sight of myself in a mirror and Jackie was right. I saw my reflection dancing: a slut in just a g-string, with my heavy jangling necklace bouncing on my buoyant tits. My toe rings glinted in the light between the straps of my high heels as I danced. Two topless girls danced near me, shaking their tits too and a swarm of guys surrounded us. One girl, dressed in a tight white dress which she'd rolled down to her waist, said to me, "You girls are brave, I tell you. I've always wanted to do what you two have done!" Needless to say, we won the night's 'dress-up' competition and, by midnight, I'd allowed several people to lick and finger me - one of them, another girl! That night was a real awakening for me as an exhibitionist and so, after that, Jackie and I worked hard at planning plenty of other sexy adventures. How I Became an Exhibitionist Ch. 01 I first discovered exhibitionism in the basement of a bookstore. My brother, John, was browsing through the Film/TV section when I came up behind him and touched his arm. 'I'm done,' I told him. 'Are we going?' He looked up and smiled. 'Did you get what you wanted?' I held up the bag. In it was an Italian cookbook, with my promise to make John and his wife dinner that night. We ambled slowly to the stairs, pointing out different books on the way. I tend to buy books impulsively, even though I have a stack of them sitting unread on my bookcase at home. I put it down to my ever-changing mood, and the fact that I don't know what I'll want from one day to the next. At the top of the first set of steps was a small landing, where they'd placed a couple of display racks of postcards, gift-type books and those magnetic poetry kits. We stopped to have a look. John was laughing at some mini joke book, when I began to get the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced casually back down at the basement. A young guy who worked at the store was putting out some audio books, just below the stairs. When I looked down at him, he quickly averted his eyes and started pretending to examine the tape in his hand. At first I didn't think anything of it. People stare at other people all the time, and, without wanting to sound conceited, I've noticed a few men giving me plenty of second looks. I started flicking through the postcards, when I felt eyes on me again. I looked back at the young guy and caught him staring in the same way. I was just starting to enjoy the flattery when I suddenly realised that I was wearing a pretty short skirt. It was a hot day so I had worn something airy, and my freshly-shaven legs were bare. I figured out that from where he was standing, the young guy had an excellent view straight up. I was a little surprised at first, more by my reaction than what the guy was doing. I should have been mortified and quickly gone up the second flight of stairs and out of the store. But I wasn't embarrassed at all. I paused for a moment and went back to flicking the postcards. I let him look. Maybe it was because he was cute, but I definitely got an instant thrill from knowing that I was on display for him. Everyone else was just browsing and buying books as normal, with no clue that I was showing off so intimately to a complete stranger; he the voyeur, and I the exhibitionist. There was something simple about it that made sense to me. John looked at me as if he was ready to go. I hesitated. 'Did you want to find something for dad?' I asked. 'His birthday's on Saturday and you still don't have anything.' 'Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. It means going up to the second floor.' I twisted my face a little. 'Well, I won't be too long,' said John. 'How about I just meet you down here in five?' John disappeared upstairs. I looked discretely back down into the basement. My lovely peeper was still there, putting some stickers on some of the tapes. I turned my head a little so that I could still see him from the corner of my eye. When I could tell that he was looking again, I moved slightly in his direction, and stood with my legs just a little further apart. He stopped applying stickers. His hands were still. I had his complete attention. Making sure there was no one else at the bottom of the stairs, or anyone coming up them, I slowly bent down and looked at something on the bottom of the rack in front of me. My little skirt slid up my thighs even more. I was wearing a thong that day; white lace. I suddenly imagined that I was a pole-dancer up on stage, bending low for the horny young man beneath me. Below, I heard him dropping the tapes to the floor with a clatter. I glanced down and saw him frantically picking them up. With a smile to myself I picked some random item from the rack and straightened up. He'd had a good look at my ass, so I decided to give him the alternate view. I turned so that I was facing him dead-on, but never actually looked at him directly. Someone came down from the ground floor and walked past me. I waited until they were gone then pulled my skirt up very slightly with one hand, stopping short of anything that would look too indecent to the casual onlooker. My heart was thumping hard. I'd never done anything like this before, and I wasn't sure what had come over me. My young man, of course, had a wonderful view. I pictured what he would be able to see from where he was standing: The straps of my heels clinging tightly to narrow ankles that led up to my shapely calves; the long, smooth expanse of my thighs; the tiny, white triangle of lace that barely covered my pussy. I imagined his heart beating fast like mine, his hands shaking, his stiff cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. I was getting so wet. I began to wonder what dirty fantasies he was having about me. Did he want to put his head up my skirt and go down on me? Put his fingers inside me? Or did he want to bend me over the banister and rip my thong off in one sharp, violent motion, so that he could put his desperately hard cock in my slippery cunt? I felt the danger. Someone could have come up the stairs any second and they would have seen; would have known what a slut I was being. If there hadn't been so many people around, I would have shown him more. I would have pulled my panties aside and let him see my damp slit. I was thrown off when John suddenly reappeared beside me. 'Okay, now I'm definitely done,' he said. 'Great.' I tried to stay calm, but I could feel that I was blushing. 'Do you want to look at anything else?' John asked. I decided that it was time to end my little show. 'No. Let's go. I have to get things started for dinner tonight.' I let my skirt drop and walked nonchalantly upstairs with John, never looking back. I was so hot, yet slightly afraid. I'd never had this urge to show off before, and my head with spinning at the thought of what I'd just done. It was naughty, slutty, yet utterly exhilarating. And what struck me most was the feeling of control, of having power over a man like that. I showed him as much as I wanted him to see, and no more. It was a rush that I wanted to feel again, and soon. * The next day was another scorcher, and I was working from home. By the afternoon I had pretty much finished everything I needed to do, so I decided to go out; just see what happened. I knew that I was going to try it again. It had been on my mind the whole morning, and as I went upstairs to change I was so excited I could barely think straight. I stripped out of my sweats and T-shirt, my standard working-from-home outfit, and opened my closet. I had already decided what to wear before I'd even got upstairs. I took the little summer dress off the hanger and held it up against myself in front of the mirror. I hadn't worn it since the year before, but I was sure it would still fit. I took off my underwear and stepped into the dress. It was loose-fitting but tight around the bust, and didn't quite come down to my knees. There were five buttons down the front. I left the top three undone. I sat down on the bed and looked at myself in the mirror. My long, pale legs were very much on display, and as I opened them a little, I got a flash of my bare pussy under my little dress. My long, red hair sat on my shoulders in thick waves that led the eye naturally downward to the peaks of my small, pert breasts. I held my shoulders back, pouting at my reflection, then realized what was missing. I took a glossy lipstick from my dresser and applied it slowly and evenly. When I'd pressed it into my lips my look was finally complete. I felt sexy, and I was ready to show off again. I'm not sure why I decided to drive to the mall. I guess because it was public enough that I could be safe, but still busy enough to provide me with opportunities to show off. Once I was inside the mall, I became acutely aware that I wasn't wearing anything under my dress. I never leave the house without underwear, and it was a little scary to think that this thin summer dress was all that stood between complete strangers and my nakedness. The cool, climate-controlled air made my nipples hard. Looking down it was so obvious, and it gave me an idea. I went into a store that sells cosmetics and bath oils. I shop there often, and there's this one really cute guy who works there. He's a little young for me to date, but not for some harmless fun. I found him in the third aisle, shelving some men's deodorant. 'Excuse me?' He looked my way, and I could immediately see from his face that I had chosen the right outfit that day. 'Can I help?' he smiled. I smiled back. 'Do you have any body moisturisers?' He took me to them. Of course, I already knew where they were. Pretending to be interested in a bottle on the bottom shelf, I knelt down to pick it up. From where he was standing, I knew the assistant had a very nice view down the front of my dress. I read the back of the bottle in my hand. He didn't move. 'So, is there anything in particular you're looking for?' he asked. I've noticed that male shop assistants almost always give pretty women extra attention. I guess that's why I started experimenting by teasing them. It's the service aspect; the fact that they're there to help and be polite. Let them look down your dress and watch them stumble over themselves to get you anything you want. 'Actually,' I remained where I was, looking up at him with my best innocent expression, 'I'm looking for something I can put on after a shower. Something that will keep my skin nice and soft.' He gulped. 'Well . . . any of these can be put on after a shower, or a bath.' He was starting to blush. It excited me even more. 'So,' I said, leaning forward ever-so-slightly more, 'would you recommend that I have a quick towel-dry, then apply the moisturiser to every part of my body? I mean, before I get dressed?' He could surely see my nipples by now. He was trying hard but, bless him, he just couldn't keep his eyes on my face. 'Er . . . That sounds about right,' he fumbled. I decided to let him off the hook. 'Well, thank you so much . . .' I read his name tag, 'Robert. You've been a big help. I may come back later and buy one of these.' 'No problem,' he said, beaming like a hot coal. I gave him one last smile and left the store. When I got outside I was shaking again from the thrill and excitement of what I'd just done. It was the fact that it was so obvious to both of us, yet not so that we could actually acknowledge it. I was sure that by acting perfectly naturally, you could get away with quite a bit. Who would risk owning up to looking down your dress, and who would dare accuse you of showing off on purpose? As long it wasn't too blatant, you could always feign innocence. I got onto the escalator without really thinking. I was still buzzing from what I'd just done, and what I might do next. I guess it was that adrenaline that put the next thought in my mind. As I was standing on the long escalator going up. Behind me, a few steps down, was an older guy, maybe late-fifties. I glanced back and caught him looking at my legs. Almost instinctively I bent over and pretended to adjust one of my heels. My dress rode up a little. As I levelled out at the top of the escalator, the bottom of my bare ass and pussy lips were on show to anyone below. I stood up again – just a brief flash this time – and went on my way. I didn't acknowledge the guy. I wanted him to think he'd just got lucky. My mind was on my next stop, a clothing store I don't frequent that much. It's a big one, never too full on weekdays, and there are many little places where a girl could do things without being seen. I stood outside, pretending to look at the clothes in the window. What I was really looking for was the hot young sales clerk I'd seen there in the past. I spotted him come to the checkout to serve someone. With a little flutter of excitement in my stomach I went in and browsed casually through the racks of summer clothes. I had no idea what I was going to do yet, and that was half the fun. Then an idea began to glow inside me. I went over to the lingerie section. They had some nice undies, and not too expensive. I picked through the various styles: lace thongs, cotton bikini panties, lycra shorties. Then I settled on my choice, a pair of black satin low-rise panties with a matching demi bra. Perfect. I picked them off the rack and looked around for the changing rooms. As I went inside my breasts were already tingling. I chose the first cubicle I could see. Once I was in, I left the door just slightly open. There was a mirror on each wall, and from where I was standing, looking in the mirror to my left, I could clearly see the through the gap in the door to the area just outside the changing rooms. Which meant, of course, that anyone standing out there could also see me. There was no one there at first, so I waited. After a minute, a woman came past my cubicle and into another, carrying a pair of jeans. Waiting outside for her was a man I presumed to be her husband. He looked to be in his early forties, tall, quite good looking. He was shuffling about, looking bored, carrying bags from other women's stores in the mall. Poor guy, being dragged around by his wife while she tried on clothes. I decided to give him a treat. I began to move around a little, hanging up my bag on one of the hooks and checking my hair in the mirror. The movement caught his attention, and I noticed him stop pacing. I didn't look at him directly, but I could see him as clearly as I knew he could see me. To start with, he looked away, but his eyes kept returning to my image in the mirror. He couldn't help himself. I slowly pushed the straps of my dress down. My nipples were stiff again, and with my thighs pressed together I could feel how wet I was getting. I eased the top of my dress down, giving him a little glimpse of my breasts, before turning my back. I couldn't see if he was still watching, but I was willing to bet on it. I hooked my thumbs into the waist of my dress and slid it down my thighs, uncovering my pert butt. I made a big show of bending right down until the dress was around my ankles. Then I stepped out of it and hung it up over my bag. The lingerie was on the bench beside me. I picked up the bra first and turned back to face the mirror. I took my time fastening the bra round my waist, then I slid it round and pulled it up to hook the straps over my shoulders. When both breasts were contained, I held them and gave them a lift. Nice fit. I lingered there a moment, gazing at myself stroking my breasts through the black satin, my red pubic hair on full display. I could see the man still watching. I wondered if his mouth was hanging open. Next I took the panties and stepped into them, one deliberate leg at a time. I pulled them up my thighs until they were nestled snugly against my pussy. They felt good, nice and close. My mouth was dry as I pretended to inspect the front of the panties, rubbing the soft material that covered my clit. Then I turned around and inspected the back in the mirror, a hand on each buttock, gently caressing. When I'd given him a look at all angles, I pulled the tags from the lingerie, took my dress from the hanger and stepped back into it. Then I grabbed my bag and left as though I had no idea anyone was watching. When I passed the man outside I didn't even look him in the face, though I could tell he was staring at me. I imagined how hard he must be, and how much he wanted to slip into my cubicle and touch me all over; how much his cock ached to be inside me. I approached the checkout and stood behind the woman being served by the hot young man I'd been waiting to see. He was wearing a white shirt that clung nicely to his body. He had a good shape; a swimmer's build. I was so hot by then, I couldn't stop myself from picturing his naked chest, and how I would flick his nipples with my tongue while I slowly reached down inside his pants . . . 'Who's next, please?' His smooth voice and dazzling smile brought me back to reality. I suddenly felt fear again, but it was the good kind. As calmly as I could, I walked up to the counter and smiled back at him. He waited for me to say something. There were no eyes on us at that moment, so I lifted the front of my dress and showed him my panties. 'I'll be wearing these home,' I said, casually, as though I'd just bought a pair of shoes. I let the dress drop. 'There's a matching bra, too. Here are the labels.' I put the labels and security tags down on the counter. His eyes were wide, but he did his best to maintain his composure. 'Certainly, Ma'am,' he replied, scanning the labels. I paid, keeping my eyes on his the whole time, then gave him a little wink as I left. Walking away, I was sure he was staring at my ass, mentally undressing and fucking me. I left the store and headed back for the escalator. I was so aroused I could barely think straight. I needed to come, and bad. When I got back to the car, I slipped into the seat and locked the door. I was on the third level of the multi-storey, and I didn't see anyone around. God, I wanted to touch myself. I tilted back my seat a little, then checked around one last time to see if the coast was clear. I was sandwiched between two cars, pretty well hidden, and the place was deserted for now. I lifted the front of my dress and gently stroked myself through my new panties, burning down there, and desperate to get off. I eased them down, noting the damp patch on the crotch; I'd had no choice but to buy them now that I'd got them so wet. I dragged them over my ankles in the cramped space and dropped them on the passenger seat. The air on my hot pussy felt good, but my fingers felt even better. I rubbed my slit, spreading my juice up and down. Usually I like to take my time masturbating, but I was so desperate, and I was aware that I could be caught any moment. I went to work on my clit, rubbing it in tight circles. It felt exquisite. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, remembering how I'd shown off like a slut. I thought about how much those men had wanted me, and how I'd teased them and got them hot. I imagined how they might go home that night and jerk off, thinking about my ass, and my breasts, and my tight cunt just waiting to be fucked. I moaned, grinding my hips against the seat as I felt those wonderful, familiar sparks begin to build in my clit. I reached down with my other hand and put a finger inside myself, curling it upwards and moving it back and forth. My legs were open as far as I could get them, with one knee against the steering wheel and the other against the door. My nipples felt more sensitive than ever, and my skin began to take on that electric quality that it does when I'm getting close to orgasm. I added a second finger inside my wet slit, waggling them up and down as I rubbed my clit more frantically. I got closer, and closer, until finally I bit my bottom lip as I started to come. 'Ooooooohhhhh . . .' I rode the sensations, my pussy throbbing around my fingers. I had to ease off my clit when it became to much, then I touched it again, triggering a second, smaller orgasm that took my by surprise. I was out of it for a little while, then I came back down and revelled in the feeling of total relief that flooded through me. I was slightly shocked by how hard I had come; and twice! Showing off seemed to get me hotter than anything had in a long time, and I was eager to take it further. When I opened my eyes, I immediately noticed the man standing next to my car. He was frozen, his keys in the door of his car, his hand on the keys, his eyes on my soaking wet snatch. I jumped in my seat, closing my legs. He seemed to snap out of it, and he looked me in the eye. I was glad I had the door locked. He quickly fumbled with his keys and managed to open his door. He was in his car and driving away in seconds. How I Became an Exhibitionist Ch. 01 I sat there with my heart pounding once again. I hadn't meant to get caught that time, but it was still one of the most thrilling things that's ever happened to me. I pushed my dress back down and drove home with my panties still on the passenger seat. That was the day I discovered exhibitionism. In the months to follow, I would grow to love it even more.