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Mature Exhibitionist Ch. 01

By: TinyCosgrove



Let me introduce myself. My name is Tina Cosgrove and I'm 57 years old and an only child. I'm single and I currently work from home as a book accountant for a couple of local companies and a charity. I have spent all of my adult life living in my family home. My father died when I was a child and I was a carer for my mother from the age of 19 until about six months ago. She had suffered from a degenerative neurological disorder for nearly 40 years up until her death.

I was brought up a Catholic and was taught to despise my body, my sexuality and my feelings. I was taught to believe in "no sex before marriage" and have only ever had three boyfriends in my lifetime and none since I was in my mid 40's. I had found it impossible to mix my mother's care needs with anything like a personal relationship. I've never had sex and have never seen a man naked in real life. 

Physically I've got short grey hair, a plain homely face with a slightly bulbous nose and flay cheeks. I'm quite short and plump, a typical pear shape and quite overweight. I got large fat hips, fat legs and thighs patterned with cellulite. I've a belly which sits like a spare tire around my waist and hangs over my hips and groin area. My breasts are non-existent, barely a-cup, with large red crinkly areola and as I've gotten older they have flopped down and just hang from my chest like a couple of shrivelled fried eggs. Between my legs there is a large thatch of unkempt curly grey public hair. 

I don't consider myself to be attractive or desirable in any way, an opinion confirmed every time I look in the mirror. I tend to wear shapeless clothes that hide my figure. I seldom put myself into any position where I would have to wear tight or revealing clothes. I haven't been to a gym in years, seldom go swimming and haven't been near a beach since I was a young girl. My main form of exercise is housework and walking.

After my mother's death I had a complete crisis of faith. It led to deterioration in my faith in God, church and its teaching. I became increasingly bitter about how my life has escaped me, how I've never found love, how I've never really enjoyed my body either in appearance or in feeling. I started to drink quite a lot and eat constantly. Around the same time I discovered the Internet and it helped start teaching me how to think for myself. It also introduced me to a different way to think about myself...

I remember the time it all changed for me. I was online one evening, most of the way through a bottle of wine, reading Cosmo or sort other woman's lifestyle magazine. The article I started reading was about Cap D'Agde, the naturist/nudist town in France. I was fascinated about these people who walked around nude without a care in the world, but if I had a slim tanned beautiful body like them I probably would do the same. But I wanted to know more and typed 'Cap D'Adge nudism' in Google search and disabled the safe search option. 

And that the moment my life changed. The images that I saw were of people, lots of different types of people. Thin, fat, tall, short, beautiful, ugly, saggy, tight, slim, soft, curvy... I could go on. But no matter how they looked they were naked and exposing themselves to others with no regard for decency. This affected me in two ways. My upbringing and entire life screamed at me about how wrong this was and these people were immoral and sinful. Yet I felt sexually aroused and this was something I really wasn't used to. I felt butterflies in my stomach and an ache between my legs. Closing my PC and finishing my wine I made my way to bed and I remember dreaming that night of simply walking along a beach and feeling free as a bird.

A few days later and it was Saturday. After tidying the housed, doing some gardening and three glasses of wine I decided to go for a walk. It was a September afternoon and it was a warm end of summer type day so I just put on a pair or three quarter length jogging trousers, a loose v-neck tee shirt and my trainers. I headed out of my house, selected some music on my phone, put my headphones on and started walking towards Marlow Park. Marlow Park was a biggish park on the far side of town that had been there since at least when I was a girl. It contained a couple of football pitches, a bowling green, a children's play area and some woods at the back. Down one side was the old industrial estate (which was badly hit with the recession) and a main road which lead away from town into the country. The rest of it was surrounded by housing.

My walk brought me to the main entrance at the bottom of the park and I planned to walk through the park about one and a half miles to the top entrance which came out into Harris Avenue. I strolled through the main entrance and passed between two football pitches with a changing room block at the other side of one of them. Two football games were happening with the teams dressed in colourful kits. I carried on up to the kids play area on the left, with the new toilet block beside that and behind a bit further was the council facilities where they kept their park stuff. To the right was a big grass area and it was here that something caught my eye. Another game of football but this one was just between the some locals and they were mostly running around in only shorts and trainers. I slowed to watch and after a few minutes realised I had no interest in where the ball was. I was just looking at the variety of male bodies, from 15 to 50, running around and shouting and sweating. I snapped out of my reverie and automatically scolded myself for thinking like that before I remembered that I could look if I wanted too. Feeling confused and guilty I continued to walk on the path through the fields to the woods near the top of the park.

About half way through the woods I saw the old toilet block set back about 20 feet from the main path and realised I need to have a wee. I headed up the smaller track to the ladies, through the L shaped modesty wall (to stop people from being able to look straight into the toilets from outside) and through the open door. Ahead was a wall which was the side of the first cubicle. To my right was an old sink with dirty mirror and hand drier. A shimmy past the sink and around the front of the first stall and I saw all three cubicle doors were open. This wasn't surprising as this toilet was seldom used as far as I knew. I headed into the far cubicle, put my headphones in my pocket, half pulled down my track pants and hovered over the seat. 

It was a great release to pass away the wine that I'd drunk earlier and my wee noisily splashed down into the bowl. As I finished I checked for toilet paper and saw there wasn't any there. I decided to dry between my legs as best I could with my hand and thento wash my hands in the sink. But then the strangest thing happened. As I stood up straight and tried to rub dry the thatch between my legs, images of the footballers running around topless jumped into my head. Closing my eyes I rubbed a bit faster and started imagining the footballers running around naked, just like the men on the nudist beaches. 

I felt funny in my stomach, butterflies and churning, with one half of my brain feeling almost animal and base, and the other half screaming to control my behaviour and act like a normal person but the images were vivid and unmoving. One of my problems was that I had never really masturbated in my life as I'd been brought up to believe this was wrong and immoral and I would burn in hell for it. But with the powerful emotions conflicting in me, plus 50 years of repressed sexuality and three glasses of wine were messing my mind. I knew there was a pea between my legs that felt good when it was touched but I couldn't get my legs apart far enough because of the jog pants. Without real thought or reason I sat straight down onto the toilet (which I'd only hovered above earlier), pulled off my trainers and yanked my jog pants and knickers off my legs. I stood up again, spread my legs as wide as I could (with my right foot going under the 6 inch gap between the floor and partition there) leant forward with my left hand leaning on the closed door in front and started rubbing between my legs again. This time I was able to reach the little hard nub between my legs and I rubbed the edge of my hand up and down across this as hard as I could. The feeling was painful and euphoric. I imagined I was standing naked on the grass field surrounded by all the footballers. 

Realising I was still partially clothed in the cubicle, not nude like in my head, I quickly stopped rubbing, straightened up and pulled my tee shirt over my head which then landed on the floor. I unhooked my bra and pulled it off as well. I looked down at my horrible body and started to wonder just what I was doing but my right hand worked its way back between my legs and my eyes closed once again. I could feel an intense pressure building up inside me and I rubbed harder and harder. My pea was throbbing now and I felt waves of intense energy start to ripple through my body. In my imagination the footballers all started to laugh and point at me. I could hear them saying how ugly I was with my hairy legs and saggy tits. I started crying at the same time that a massive wave of light pulsed through my body. I collapsed to my knees and stayed still until my head started to clear. I was weeping uncontrollably now and my pea was burning like I'd rubbed it raw. My right hand was soaking wet and it looked like I'd wet myself without noticing. I frantically got back up on my feet (not that easy) and went to get dressed. Where I'd dropped my tee shirt and bra on the floor I realised that they were patchy damp in places and the insides of my legs were dripping down as well. I could feel snot on my face as I pulled on my clothes and ran from the toilets not able to think clearly at all. I was home about twenty minutes later and immediately showered myself off, feeling absolutely degraded, disgusting and dirty. And yet as I cleaned between my legs I felt my pea react and twitch. Memories of the waves of energy rippling through my body unbidden back to my mind. I quickly finished washing and got dried and dressed.

It was later that evening after I'd calmed down and had another couple of glasses of wine that I switched on my PC and connected to the Internet. After a little reading I discovered that I'd had my first orgasm and I'd performed something called female ejaculation.

Mature Exhibitionist Ch. 02



It was Wednesday. I'd vowed after Saturday that I'd not think about the park or my feelings or what had happened. What had happened was wrong and unseemly. It was repugnant and I was a deviant. Yet by Wednesday afternoon I could barely concentrate on my accounts work and my mind was twisting in self-loathing and some undefined need.

I opened a bottle of wine and decided work was over for the day. Then I logged into the Internet and did a search for 'naked in public toilet'. To say I was shocked by what I read and saw would be an understatement. I read about something called exhibitionism. The urge and desire to expose your body to other people. It wasn't quite the same as what happened on the nudist beaches I'd read about previously, although that was certainly a form of exhibitionism. What I was reading about was exposing your body in inappropriate places. For some people, mainly men, it involved showing their private parts to other people. But for others, mostly women, it was more about wearing inappropriate clothing, or no underwear, or flashing pants 'accidently' when sitting. It was about undressing partially or fully in a public place where there was the risk of being caught.

It was this thought that stood out. It all seemed to be about the risk and the feeling of being out of control, if only for a few seconds or minutes. Just reading about this made me breathe faster and my heart started pumping. I was so utterly ashamed and embarrassed of my body that I'd didn't want other people to see it, but the thought of putting myself into a position where there was a risk just made my head spin.

And then there were the photos. My God so many photos. Photos of men with their penises showing both soft and erect. Photos of women walking brazenly down the road. But the photos that really worked my imagination were those of women taking pictures of themselves. Self-shots they were called. Especially intriguing to me were the ones taken outside, in public, in the park, in the car or the library or the changing room at the shops.

There were sites dedicated to such pictures where the women involved uploaded their offerings. It was strange that for people that had tried so hard to secretly shoot themselves in public, yet try not be seen, they were then willing to share their photos and videos with millions across the world. And it was all sorts of people, not just the young good looking. I supposed there was some sort of anonymity in that the women had usually masked their face behind the camera (if using a mirror) or with a blob of black or fuzzy grey from a photo editor.

My mind was racing and I wanted this so much. It was like the fantasy I had in the toilets imagining I was surrounded and being watched by people. It must have been the wine talking but I stood up, grabbed my phone and went to my mother's old bedroom. It was sparsely filled but it had a full length mirror on one wall. I undressed and placed my clothes on the floor. I noticed as I pulled my knickers down that the large gusset was gooey and a long drip connected up to between my legs. I caught this with my finger and wiped it on my leg before pulling my panties all the way off. Then standing up I stood in front of the mirror with my phone. I took a photo. It placed my feet apart as far as I could on the floor and took another. It turned sideways and took another. I lifted one droopy breast and took another. Finally I turned away from the mirror, spread my legs and bent over. This was awkward but I managed to take the last photo of my privates exposed in the mirror.

Not wanted to lose the moment, or the buzz, I went downstairs in just my dressing gown and created an account on the site I'd been on earlier. Connecting my phone to my PC I transferred the photos and looked through them. I was horrified by what I saw -- a fat, old ugly woman exposing her body fully naked, but with her face obscured in all of them. Before I lost my courage I clicked upload and sent my pictures into the world. I disabled other people from commenting on them though as I didn't feel like reading crude unwanted talk about me. And with that they were out there for the world to see. I spent the rest of the day buzzing and went to bed that night with my head still in a spin.

Next morning I check my photos online again. There were still there and the page they were on had been view 16 times. My face flushed red with embarrassment as I realised that 16 people had now seen me naked and exposed. More tellingly though was that my heartbeat had started racing and my breath caught in my chest as I suddenly realised that these 5 photos of me were simply not enough. And I knew what I had to do. I went upstairs and got dressed into my walking outfit. I was going back to the park.

I headed through the main gates and past the empty football pitches. The park was a lot quieter today than at the weekend. Up ahead I could see some mothers with their children in the play area but I had no interest that. My mind was racing thinking about what I was about to do and I could feel my stomach churning. The last time I'd been here I had the benefit and feeling slightly drunk but this morning my head was clear, although you'd not be able to tell from my lack of ability to focus around me. I walked on further and entered into the woody area towards the top of the park. After another few minutes I saw the grey building up ahead. I felt slightly panicky but something within me at a lower level was driving me on. I turned off the path onto the track that led up to the ladies toilets and headed in through the door.

The harsh fluorescent light lit the toilet far brighter than I had realised last time. Perhaps I was subconsciously aware of wanting to hide in the gloom but I tried to dismiss that as I headed down past the first two open stalls to the cubicle at the far end. The only sound was my breathing and the gentle slap of my trainers on the floor. I stepped in through the door, closed it behind me and considered what I was about to do. With slow deliberate movements, almost to stop myself from bolting out the door, I first placed my phone on the top of the cistern. Then I closed the toilet seat and sat down and pulled off my trainers and socks and placed them on the floor. Standing up again I pulled off my sweatshirt and pulled down my jogging pants, folding these carefully and placing them on the closed toilet lid. Realizing my hands were shaking I spent a minute of two just standing still and calming myself down although I was starting to feel a little sick with nerves. I fumbled with the catch on my bra trying to opening it before I also pulled that off and added it to my pile. Lastly I pulled down my pants and stood out of them one foot at a time. I was shaking now even though I'd already been here before undressed last Saturday. However this was different as what I was about to do to was completely and utterly wrong. What if someone came in and saw me? What if I fell over and knocked myself out only to be found naked on the floor? Too many what if's but I tried to focus on why I was here. There was a mirror above the sink outside and I wanted to take a photo of myself reflected in that. 

I picked up my phone and turned to face the cubicle door and with my other hand I slowly slid the catch back. The quiet click as it opened sounded like a gunshot and echoed around my head. Gently swinging the door back and in I moved to the right to let it open completely. Once again I could feel all the feeling of panic sweep over me and I desperately wanted to slam the door shut again, get dressed and run away. But I didn't... instead I focussed on the wall opposite and stepped out of the cubicle. I could feel the air over my body in a way I'd never felt before as I turned to the right and looked down to the mirror above the sink at the end. I lifted my camera to my face and tried to zoom in to get myself in the reflection and took the shot. Not daring to check the photo I deliberately took two steps forward and took another photo. Two more steps and I was outside the first cubicle and another photo. I felt sick inside but the utter compulsion to do this was unstoppable. Two more steps and I was in front of the sink and too close for another photo. I'd actually done it but now I wondered what else I could do.

I fumbled with my phone and started it on video record and placed it on the sink pointing back at me. Then I walked backwards down to where I started before slowly walking back to the camera. Only this time I could watch myself in the mirror as I did it. When I reached the sink I wondered what else I could do so I placed the camera facing towards the entrance to the ladies. Now I very carefully walked towards the main door and as I got close I craned my head forward to look outside. There was nothing to see from this angle except the privacy wall opposite so I shuffled towards the far side of the doorway while turning around to face my camera at the same time. For here if I leant sideways I could see out past the wall and down the track to the main path. Anyone looking from the path however would only really see my head sticking around the corner of the wall. 

With my heart pounding I leant back against the door and spread my feet apart. My head was spinning, my pulse racing and my stomach turning but between my legs there was a desperate need. I closed my eyes and started rubbing my hand between my thighs, gasping hard as I caught my pea. Possessed with an urgency I'd never felt before I attacked my pea rubbing hard and rough like I was scrubbing the floor. Suddenly my knees felt weak and my head swam and I felt wave after wave of intense sensation spread though my body. I must have stood there like that for at least 30 seconds before I slowly started returning to reality. Then absolutely fear and horror set in and I ran back to the cubicle and got dressed. I headed back out and picked up my camera as I passed the sink. Looking down in the doorway I felt my face blush as I saw a small wet patch on the floor where I'd been standing. I was disgusting and horrible and I felt awful and yet the feelings I'd felt here were undeniable even if I didn't really understand them. I started to walk home trying to not look as guilty and wanton as I felt.

When I got home I sat at my PC and transferred the photos and video from my phone. Then I immediately uploaded them to my new page without even bothering to watch the video. This time however I changed the setting on my account to accept comments.