10 comments/ 197057 views/ 9 favorites My Name is Jan By: Jankoh My name is Jan, and this is my story of lust and shame. I'm in my early twenties, 5 foot 7, slim but with a curvy, feminine figure, 34-24-35. My long flowing black hair contrasts my porcelain fair skin and my pretty, delicate features. I'm of Chinese-Thai descent. My family made their fortune in the timber trade, and thus my family is immensely well off. I live in a huge mock-Tudor style mansion set in a sprawling garden with a swimming pool, with maids tending to my every need. Mainstream transportation and fashion labels are not for me. I get around in a chauffeur driven limo and only the most elegant and exclusive designer dresses and lingerie from Paris and Milan adorn my precious lithe body. But I'm no means a spoilt socialite airhead. I was educated in the most exclusive boarding schools in London and I run a successful chic little restaurant in the hippest part of town. I've had 2 previous relationships, but through them I had remained a virgin, determined to give my most precious of gifts to my husband on his wedding night. At the start of this story, I was engaged to be married. My fiancé was rich, caring, well respected, but his feeble attempts at foreplay were, sadly, bland and routine. This story is about my first and very immoral lover, a tall, dark and roguishly handsome doctor. He first entered my life 6 years ago, and like a drug, I've been addicted to him ever since, unable to break free from his irresistible charm, wit, and yes, his gorgeous body. We had met through a mutual friend at a party, and 2 weeks later he called and we met for dinner. I dressed simply, a gauzy thin, dark blue Gucci dress and matching heels. It started innocently enough, with dinner and drinks. He was attentive, funny and very sexy. As the night progressed and the drinks flowed, we became less inhibited and just a little more intimate physically. Innocent holding hands soon graduated to more daring touches of skin, but nothing more. I was engaged, after all. At the end of the evening, he was to drop me off at another friends gathering. I was already halfway out of the car when he leaned over to kiss me goodnight. As soon as our lips met, I melted. To say he was a good kisser would be a massive understatement. The way his lips parted mine, and the way his tongue invaded the privacy of my mouth, all my friends, that gathering I was to attend, my past relationships, everything else, even my fiancé, ceased to matter. I was his for the taking. He started fondling my body ruthlessly, oblivious to the fact that we were still on a public and very visible street. He reached behind and with a simple flick, unhooked my bra. I gasped in horror at his audacity and skill, but in truth I was incredibly turned on by way his fingers were ravishing my body. My erect nipples protruded through the thin material of my expensive silk dress. When his other hand reached up my dress in between my legs, I offered little resistance as he pushed aside my panties, relishing his caress on my already very aroused and wet pussy. As he slid his finger through my hymen, I gasped and squealed in pain. If my eyes weren't so glazed up by lust, I would have seen the evil glint in his eye, his glee barely concealed, 'A virgin eh? What a surprise!' The pain gradually turned to a numbing pleasure as he skillfully assaulted my g-spot. I was soon thrusting my hips unconsciously, my pussy sucking at his finger. I was hungry. Maddened by lust and emboldened by alcohol, I reached down to caress the bulge in his pants. Yes, he was pleased to see me. At his encouragement, I unbuttoned him and released the very erect cock that sprung out through his boxers. My 1.5 carat Tiffany solitaire engagement ring glistened in the moonlight as I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft and started stroking him. He visibly tensed up and his breathing became more rapid and shallow. He arched his back, hungrily asking for more. Oblivious to the lack of privacy, I leaned over and eagerly took him in my mouth. Perhaps that night I unleashed in me a previously unknown exhibitionist streak, perhaps I was eager to leave a good impression, but I took the good doctor through my entire cock-sucking repertoire, licking his shaft, blowing feather kisses all over, taking him deep into my mouth till he reached the back of my throat. He writhed and moaned in appreciation, and as he suddenly pushed me away, I realized that I had taken him to the very edge of a mind-blowing orgasm. He now reached over and started pulling at my underwear. It was then that I realized the extent of the trouble I was in. Here I was, a rich, cultured and very engaged virgin, getting all hot and sweaty with a virtual stranger on a first date. I was, literally, going to be fucked. 'NO!' I hissed as I closed my legs, 'I'm engaged! This is wrong!' 'But you're so wet.... you like it, don't you?' was his reply as his lips descended upon mine, cutting off any further protests from me. He was right... I was wet. I tried to push him away, but as his lips ravaged mine and his hands fondled my aroused breasts, my body's betrayal was evident. As he reached for my underwear again, I could only lift my buttocks in silent cooperation. As he slid the expensive, brief and by now very damp panties slowly down my thighs, all I could offer as futile resistance was to coyly press my thighs together. His sly charm against my innocent fidelity... we both knew who won. He drove us a short distance to a secluded park. As we walked into the night, I could feel my juices flow from my naked and very wet pussy down my inner thighs. Nobody had ever aroused me to this extent before. They say that forbidden fruit is sweetest. This is very sweet indeed. We reached a little pavilion where he stopped. We kissed passionately for the umpteenth time tonight. As he turned me around, and hiked up my dress, I knew the inevitable was about to happen. 'Please don't.... I'm engaged... and I'm a virgin!' I pleaded, but as his hands reached in front of my dress to fondle my breasts and erect nipples, he whispered heavily behind my ear, 'But you want this, don't you?' 'NO!' I panted, but as his other hand reached down in front between my legs to feel my pulsating wet cunt, he knew I was lying. 'Yes you do. I know you want it'. I kept silent, but as his finger started to rub on my engorged clitoris, a moan escaped from my mouth. 'You like this don't you, little virgin?' he teased as he slowed bent my body forwards. I could feel his massive erection between my bare buttocks. 'Please...' I started before he cut me off, 'Please what? You want me to fuck you don't you, little virgin? Say it!' His cock was now sliding across my very wet and aroused crotch, teasingly me mercilessly. I moaned uncontrollably, increasingly aware of an urge to pee. My feet unconsciously inched apart, allowing him better access. My orgasm was building, and he knew it. 'You want this don't you?' he persisted. 'Y-Yes' I whimpered, finally relenting. 'Yes what?' he showed no mercy as he plunged his raging cock into the depths of my pussy, 'you want this don't you? You like me fucking you, don't you? SAY IT!' 'ARGGGHHH!!' I screamed as my hymen was ripped to shreds by the forced entry of his massive cock. 'NO NO NO!!' I panted, but each 'no' became less convincing as the inevitable happened and the pain gave way to an indescribable pleasure. 'You're enjoying this aren't you? Say it, you little virgin slut!' he taunted as my moans became more audible. 'Yes-I-like-this-I-like-you-fucking-me!' I gasped jerkily in time with the thrusting of his pelvis, his massive cock filling me up and ripping me apart with a ferocity I had never experienced. The urge to pee became uncontrollable, and finally exploded in a shuddering torrent of spasms as I came.... My mind went blank for what seemed like forever, and when I regained some semblance of control, bliss set in. I smiled in ecstasy. I didn't know if it was the feeling of a raw cock for the first time, or the guilt of my infidelity, or the shock and shame of his forced entry, but this was the best orgasm I ever had! Here I was, a well-educated high-society girl, in a public park, bent forwards at the hips, tip-toeing in her Ferrangamo heels, designer dress bunched up at the waist, her long legs, bare ass and breasts exposed for all to see, being raped and fucked doggy style like a cheap whore, and inexplicably, loving every minute of it! As we changed position, I had a glimpse of his erect cock, raw and glistening with a mixture of my cunt juice and my virginal blood. 'This man had taken my virginity!' I thought to myself. The thought was, strangely, a massive turn-on. I turned around and hugged him, as the same time hopping up and wrapping my legs around his waist. I lowered my buttocks and there he was, hot and hard like a molten rod of tempered steel as he slid into me. I gripped him with my pelvic muscles and gyrated my hips wantonly, my body moving and responding in ways I never realized possible. His thrusts became deeper and more fervent as he edged closer to his climax. I tried to jump off his body but this proved impossible, he had well and truly impaled me with his member. As he slammed my back onto a stone column, he gave one final thrust toward an explosive, mind blowing orgasm, filling me with his seed. 'NOOOOO!' I gasped as I realized I was unprotected, but it was too late. As I slid off his withering erection, my knees were so weak I could barely stand upright. I had been raped and fucked by this irresistible doctor... it felt so wrong, and yet so right. As we walked back to the car, I could feel a gooey mess oozing down my thighs, a slimy mixture of his semen, my blood and vaginal secretions. He had unleashed the slut in me, yet the pleasure was mixed with a feeling of indescribable shame. Never again, I vowed to myself. Over the next few years, I was to realize how wrong and premature that statement was. I broke off the engagement, of course, but thankfully my fiancé never figured out why. The doctor and I had sex in every possible scenario, occasion and position imaginable. He used me like a whore, not treating me with even the slightest modicum of respect, calling me only when he wanted sex. After every fuck session I would fill up with shame and would vow to myself that that was to be the last time, but every time he calls, I would hear his voice and go weak in the knees, my pussy tingling in anticipation. I could have had other lovers, more caring, nicer men, but I stupidly refused to move on, choosing to remain his secret fuck-toy, ready at his beck and call. At his request, I would wear the sexiest dresses, the skimpiest slips and chemises, the briefest lingerie, or nothing underneath at all. On the streets, women would give me the evil eye, and men would be starring and mentally undressing and raping me, as it was always evident that I was dressed to be fucked, but I didn't care. I was going to be fucked, not by those other men, but by the doctor, and nothing else mattered. Once, in what must have been a moment of insanity, he offered to stop to buy condoms, but I stopped him, wanting to feel him in my pussy, fucking me in all his naked glory. I remain, to this day, the shining and respectable pillar of upper-crust society, young, rich, beautiful, successful, available yet unattainable. The reality was, of course, unknown to everyone, that I was attainable, but only by the doctor. I could have any man I wanted, but I only lusted over the one man that didn't care for me and used me only for one reason, sex. Yet, for that one reason, I was willing to be used and abused, again and again, by the good doctor. My name is Jan, and this is my story of lust and shame. My Name Is Joe--Exhibitionist Author's Note: This is a rewrite of a previous story. The events are real, based on my own exhibitionist experiences... * What is an exhibitionist? Merriam-Webster's Medical Dictionary defines an exhibitionist as: "one who engages in or is addicted to exhibitionism..." Addicted? Can people actually be addicted to exposing themselves? In order to answer that, I think we need to look to Merriam-Webster's definition of exhibitionism itself: "A disorder characterized by a compulsion to exhibit the genitals in public." To put it together from the definition, it would be logical to conclude that an exhibitionist is someone who has a disorder, compulsion, or is addicted to showing their genitals in public. As a recovering exhibitionist I can say with complete authority that there is much more to it than Webster's clinical characterization. I have yet to experience anything this universe offers more exhilarating than walking around completely, totally, barefoot, butt naked in broad daylight—the more public the place, the better. Unfortunately, the authorities don't agree with me on this point. In 2002 I was arrested walking naked through a college parking lot. Now branded for life, this single incident ended a naked in public career that spanned over 15 years. I can no longer get a decent job or even live in an apartment complex requiring a background check. I never claimed to be a particularly intelligent exhibitionist. Since I can no longer practice my "addiction," I've decided to share my tales with those less fortunate. Surely, there must be thousands who fantasize about stepping out of the doorway in the nude to retrieve the morning paper, but who for their own reasons, have never dared it. What follows are some examples of the types of experiences I've had and I hope that you will consider these humble offerings as insight into the breathless world of the exhibitionist. And though I am now bound to convention and can no longer venture "outside," perhaps dear reader, you can. As an exhibitionist I had rules: never under any circumstances would I intentionally show myself to anyone under the age of eighteen, never force myself on anyone who was unwilling to look, and never attempt any form of physical contact with anyone, unless they initiated it. Assaulting people wasn't my thing. Under these circumstances, I actually got one or two positive reactions to my nudity. One Colorado summer for example, I was walking along a secluded path by a river, dressed in shorts and shoes. It was very hot that day and as always on hot days, I felt that inescapable compulsion to strip off and go naked. Quickly stepping out of my shorts, I tossed them in the bushes and marked the spot for later retrieval. Since there was nobody in sight I figured I wouldn't have any trouble. Now totally nude, save for my shoes, I continued along savoring the sun on my naked body. While the public nudity itself offered a small sexual thrill, it didn't mean that I needed to blatantly jack off in someone's face—at least not yet. I'd gone maybe a football field walking behind the high hedges to my left, when I decided to turn back, not wanting to push it. I could hear the traffic on the other side of the bushes and if I kept on, I'd be soon be exposed to it. As I turned around to head back to the place where my shorts were hidden, my heart stopped in chest. There were two young women on bicycles approaching me from the opposite direction. They were between my shorts and me and I was trapped, naked, with nothing to cover myself with. All I could do was continue on and act like nothing was out of place. My heart pounded as my mind raced through the possible scenarios and explanations. I hoped that maybe they would just pass me by, but that didn't happen. Stopping about 10 feet from me, the girl closest gawked, open-mouthed and demanded to know what I was doing. The girl behind her remained silent and wide-eyed. Now, through my experiences, I have discovered that it's difficult to lie to someone when you're naked. I don't know if this is a universal truth or not, but it's true for me. Attempting to explain my situation, I told them that I was a nudist, (true) and loved experiencing the freedom of being naked outdoors, also true. The second girl then spoke up and asked me if I was aware that what I was doing was illegal. Well, yes, I had to admit that I understood that of course, but I hadn't really expected to encounter anyone. I wasn't out to intentionally offend anybody, I'd just wanted to take a short walk in the sunshine, and then I was going to put my shorts back on—which was also true. Pointing to the bushes where my shorts lay about 50 yards from us, I'd hoped to confirm to the girls that I was telling the truth and that I wasn't a threat to them. I hadn't set out to flash them. They'd taken me by surprise. Of course I shouldn't have been surprised in the first place; I had been walking along a public path completely nude after all. Note to the purists out there...okay I wasn't completely nude I was wearing shoes. A tense moment of silence followed while the girls studied me, trying to determine my motivation. I was afraid that they would call the police or something and was beginning to sweat it big time. It was obvious that they weren't quite happy about this and figured I was in trouble here. Without warning the quiet one burst into laughter. I let out my breath in relief and they both smiled. With the ice broken, they stayed on for a few minutes, asking me all kind of questions about how often I did this, did I get off on it, etc. Standing there naked in front of the girls like that was beginning to affect me and my cock grew. Not wanting to appear a pervert, I tried hard to think about other things—my grandmother, my dog, but it was no use. The fact that the girls were noticing my situation didn't help matters either. I desperately tried to steer the situation in another direction to no avail. My cock won out and I soon sported a full-blown erection. The girls stared at my erection as we talked and I was so excited that I couldn't help occasionally reaching down to lightly touch myself. They seemed to become uncomfortable with this however and departed, leaving me naked on the path. As they pedaled off, I quickly scanned the area to make sure there would be no more surprises, and then stroked myself hurriedly orgasm spraying cum on the pavement as I watched them disappear, hoping that they would look back, but they never did. This experience was awesome, but not typical for me. Most of the time being caught wasn't nearly this well received. In fact the handful of times I've been cold busted, were marked with anything from dirty looks and threats to being chased in my car. Once I even had to run away naked from the waist down. Before my arrest, I was a member of numerous websites where people post pictures of themselves naked in public, and mine were among some of the most daring. I have taken pictures of myself naked in the parking lots of stores, inside post offices, crossing streets, on the sides of freeways with cars passing by...you name it, and I've done it¾all completely naked and in broad daylight. As for the addictive side of it, I would have to agree with Webster's. My want to go naked got progressively worse over time. At the end of my career, my boldness overrode my ass so to speak, and I was taking stupid chances. On a trip across the US one summer, I drove completely naked, only donning my shorts when I had to get gas. Even then, at a remote gas station in Wyoming, I slipped of my shorts, finished pumping, walked naked around my car and got in. There were a few other people standing around, but by this time, I had gotten so bold as not to care. At times I felt invincible. Once, I came out of a gas station in Nevada, slipped off my shorts and walked the rest of the way to my car fully nude. Another time at a crowded rest stop on Interstate 80, I parked my car about twenty yards from a phone booth. The booth stood alone, exposed to both the parking area and the freeway. In the booth I slid my shorts down and kicked them off, standing naked for about five minutes. At this point I was so excited that I walked the entire way completely naked back to my car, masturbating as I went. Reaching my vehicle, I wasn't ready to end it yet, so I moved around behind it and sat on the trunk, jerking off to the passing traffic. One woman even turned her head to look as she sped by, as if trying to figure out if she was really seeing a naked man masturbating on his car. My exhibitionism was addictive all right...and like any addiction left unchecked...it got me into a world of trouble. I have a police record now because of it and it has returned a few times to bite me in the ass. While I don't recommend going around naked to anyone due to the possible legal consequences, I can say this: there is no better drug than exposing oneself naked in public. There were times when I was so turned on I could hardly breathe because my heart was pounding so hard from the adrenaline rush. Webster's is right in a way, and wrong in another. Exhibitionism can be an addiction—but it's about much more than simply showing your genitals to people. It's about the raw exhilaration, the sheer terrifying excitement that comes from being naked and exposed. It's about knowing that you're too far away from your clothes to turn back, it's about the feeling you get moments before you know you're going to get caught, when every nerve screams to your brain. It's that indescribable, surreal quality of conversing totally nude with a startled onlooker. It's being the center of attention as the only naked person at party or in the park in front of a group of clothed people. Most of all though, I think it's about getting in touch with the emotion that we try so hard to ignore—vulnerability. To be naked is to be vulnerable. But to be naked in public is about as vulnerable as it gets. An exhibitionist lives for those rare times when things come together. The ultimate fantasy for me was to be caught naked and masturbating in a public place without any negative repercussions. It happened to me once a long time ago. In 1984, I was in a train station in Germany at about three o'clock in the morning. Drunk, I walked into the women's empty restroom by mistake. Being an opportunist and helped by the alcohol, I stripped off all of my clothes in a stall and masturbated on the toilet. Peeping out with cock in hand, I saw the place was still deserted— so I got bold. Walking right out of the stall, barefoot naked, I stood in front of the mirror, watching myself stroke. The feeling was indescribable, standing there on the cold tile watching myself in the mirror with the sounds of the train station in my ears. In fact, I'd gotten so caught up in what I was doing that I hadn't noticed the woman on the far end of the restroom walk in. But she noticed me. Way too far gone at this point to even care, I pumped my cock and came hard, spurting gobs of cum all over the sink, the floor and myself. My knees gave out and I groaned, falling forward, just able to catch myself with one hand on the edge of the sink as I finished squeezing out the last few drops in ecstasy, knowing the whole time that she was standing there watching. Then the woman rushed out and so did I. Grabbing my clothes in the stall, I pulled on my pants, shirt and shoes and hauled ass out of there—leaving my underwear and socks behind. Thankfully, nothing ever came of that incident. Luck plays a big part in the successful career of an exhibitionist. At some point however, it runs out for all of us. These days, I have my stories. It's a safe way to walk down the street naked or jerk off in a crowded bar. In retrospect, I think that Webster's must be forgiven for putting such a cold moniker on exhibitionism. After all, how can you define the myriad of feelings that surround it in a few sentences? Or expect someone who's never masturbated for a crowd to understand what it's truly like? Based on my own experience I would define exhibitionism as the ultimate thrill and the exhibitionist the ultimate thrill seeker. I have many more experiences to share, but that will depend on how well these are received. Again, I never try to intentionally assault anyone. Until then, I will be making more appearances and perhaps you will see me...in my stories. Exhibitionism is still taboo in our society, that's what makes it so exciting. Joe