Confessions of a Fledgling Flasher

True Confessions of a Fledgling Flasher

Part One

A fan of Snap Shot shared a very personal story with me, asking me to tell it for her in a way that would help make her tale as enjoyable as possible to anyone who might be curious as to how one young woman became an unabashed exhibitionist. To prove to me that she enjoyed doing the things she said she did, the young lady sent me some amazingly brave snapshots endowing me with vivid views of a few of her naughty escapades out in public. I apologize that she has asked me not to share those pictures with you. Luckily, the young lady is very eager to reveal even the most intimate details of how she happened to become an exhibitionist, hoping that each and every one of you who reads her story will envision every moment as vividly as if you were actually there with her and seeing everything for yourself. To remain as true possible to what she confided, I have made as few changes as possible to her original narrative. Though I wrote this for her, every bit of it remains very much her story. You will discover her story doesn't follow the usual standard chain of events found in most erotic stories. The reason why, is because everything is true, and what you will read actually happened in exactly this way. I sincerely hope you will enjoy reading what this amazing young woman revealed to me as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.

M. Millswan

My name is Jenny Lynn, and I must confess, I am an exhibitionist. Actually, I don't know if there could ever be truly just one exact definition for what I enjoy as my particular fetish. If it were possible for there to be just one word to tie it all up into one neat little erotic package, I think I would be very eager and very surprised to learn what that one word could possibly be. But what I do know, as surely as I was born a girl, is that I become extremely aroused and even deliciously sexually excited whenever I am presented with the occasion, either premeditated or accidentally, to expose my sweetest intimacies to those fortunate individuals with whom I am so lucky as to cross paths.

As is always the case with these types of "things," it all seemed to start innocently enough. I experienced my all-important first occurrence at a relatively young age; though age, maturity and desire, regardless of what any legal statute may state can be quite subjective. I always remember my mother being so quick to tell me something along these lines, "Jenny Lynn, you behave like a teenager who's actually going on twenty-five." See, even at an early age my Mom recognized I had the maturity and the desires of an older and more experienced woman who knows what she wants out of life.

Anyway, I can clearly recall that fateful day at school, when I discovered the thrill of flashing. Right off, I knew how much I enjoyed the innocent cat-and mouse game of exposing myself well before it ever developed into my single most passionate pastime.

I used to sit in the library for study hall and a boy, I'll call him, Gilbert, he would often sit across from me at the same table. Gilbert, of course, wasn't really his name, as like in the old television show "Dragnet" all names have been changed to protect the innocent. The only problem is who is ever truly innocent? Which is, of course, what makes life so much fun!

All that aside, in the study area there were about twenty tables, each only large enough for only four people to sit at, two on one side of the table and two on the other. I really didn't know Gilbert at all, except to see him at study hall. He never seemed to notice me either, and I don't recall if before that day if I even cared whether or not if he did. Though, for the both of us, this was about to change.

One day, as I so vividly recall as if it almost truly was, "once upon a time," I was at school and wearing, as usual, a feminine, little light blue dress with a square cut neckline and white silk embroidery. Conservative and definitely a very proper kind of young girl's dress, it really wasn't what I'd describe as low-cut at all; so I was sure it was a very decent and respectable dress, the kind my mom and dad thoroughly approved of. That particular day I had a lot of Latin homework, and working through translations of phrases like, Carpe Diem and Modus Operandi, I spent more than two hours wading through it all. When finally I was finished and with that woeful task thankfully behind me, I began studying my algebra and then finally a little history. When I was done, I stood up to stretch, and as I was ready to leave I bent over the table to gather up my books.

Truly, I hadn't planned for this, but as I struggled with the heavy texts, ever so innocently my neckline must have fallen away from my body, and the tops of my breasts became openly exposed. Sweetly oblivious to my social faux pas as I busily restacked my books, I happened to glance over at Gilbert across the table. You can only imagine my chagrin and surprise as I could not help but notice he was blatantly staring down the front of my dress and had his high school boy eyes fixed upon my breasts. He was so enjoying himself he didn't even notice I had caught him looking. In response to his reaction, I, too, looked down and was shocked to behold so much of my youthful bosom was so openly exposed.

Perhaps as a fortunate accident, for Gilbert anyway, this morning I had chosen an old bra, which really no longer was ample enough for the amount my rapidly developing breasts had recently grown. The piece of lingerie covered my nipples and not much more. It certainly left more of me available to Gilbert's eagerly probing eyes than it concealed. To my own startled eyes my breasts appeared as if they were spilling out, and compounding my shock and surprise it actually appeared as if my nipples, at any second, might even slip into view with my very next deep breath. Embarrassed, but also touched with an entirely unexpected trace of something electrifying I had never experienced before, I lifted my eyes to glance back over at Gilbert.

Maybe it was an ESP contact, but coincidentally, at the same moment, Gilbert's eyes came up to meet mine. And in sharing one of those memorable moments of moments, his response to being caught with his eyes in the cookie jar, so to speak, was to flush a bright and thoroughly guilty red.

My first and natural reaction was to be angry with him for looking down the front of my dress. But, I also realized the experience had actually caused me to feel quite excited in knowing he had just been afforded the opportunity to enjoy a public peek of my breasts. Even more exciting to me, for some reason, was the knowledge he had deliberately wanted to see my body. In fact, I was so excited at this discovery I found I just couldn't get it out of my mind and was even quite deliciously wet every step of the way walking home after leaving the library. All the while, I was reliving the clandestine thrill in envisioning myself so openly exposed in such a very public place and Gilbert shamelessly taking full advantage in enjoying himself by ogling my bared breasts.

After that singularly life-altering afternoon my life would never ever be the same. Always being what my mother might define as a bit precocious, but what I would just call adventurous and fun loving, I vowed to wear dresses as often as I could. Not just any dresses, but dresses with scoop necks and short hemlines, those which could "accidentally" ride up my thighs as I sat studying so innocent and unaware, or even blow up about my waist when caught by a wayward breeze. While wearing this type of dress, and when the mood just happened to come upon me, I would sometimes allow myself to be "careless" about bending over, or in how I would sit. Not just in the library across from Gilbert, but I allowed this devilishly delirious delight to become an important past time in some of my regular classes and outside activities, as well. Employing the guise of sweet and girlish innocence as an alluringly important ingredient in my naughty little schemes, I always preferred if it seemed as if I was entirely naive and completely unaware any part of my underwear or body were exposed. But, of course, so much of the thrill was that I was fully aware of exactly what I was doing. This wonderful pretense was the illusion I could employ to heighten my own excitingly erotic thrill in providing my exposed body as a thrill to those around me.

Then, on another day in the library, Gilbert, who now always made a point to sit across from me dropped his pencil and bent under the desk to retrieve it. Though my mother had trained me from an early age to sit like a lady whenever I wore a dress, I never really paid all that much attention to how my legs were positioned when they were under a table. Yet this afternoon, I realized while Gilbert's head was under the table my legs were in anything but a ladylike position of modesty. Gilbert, surely, must have received a pretty good glimpse of my panties, as he spent quite a long time looking for that pencil. This knowledge took me to an even higher level of thrill I could scarcely have imagined and excited me even more, actually opening up for me an entire world of new and exciting possibilities. After that, whenever we found ourselves studying together, Gilbert "conveniently" began dropping his pencil with an inordinate amount of regularity. Always eager to enjoy the thrill in fulfilling my newfound desire for excitement as well as his, I made sure to conveniently spread my legs whenever he did so.

Never able to leave well enough alone and rest on my laurels, I decided to take it to another level. It was such a thrill to put my exhibitionist designs to the test and actually buy a pair of see through panties at the mall. Of course, I didn't let my mother see them, as she would have confiscated them in a heartbeat. She always bought me conservative white cotton panties, which were what "nice" girls should wear.

For me though, I couldn't wait to get to the library for study hall the first day I had stepped into my new panties. I was so excited; I was hoping as hard as I could Gilbert would be there to play his ever so important role in fulfilling the fantasy I was setting into motion. I was elated to see once I arrived he was there, already in his regular seat across from where I normally sat. Even better, fortune was indeed with me as the chair directly across was indeed vacant. My heart was pounding as I sat down, each of us pretending not to notice the other.

As a further enabler, I had worn a frilly white skirt, which was a little shorter than I usually wore. I wanted to be sure if the opportunity arose, and he so conveniently dropped his pencil, Gilbert would be able to treat us both to a really good look at my pussy. Before too long he dropped his pencil. What a surprise! With me keeping my nose in my book, even as he started to bend down, I opened my legs really wide. That in itself was worth the cost of the panties. But I would have gladly paid double or even triple such was my pleasure when I could actually hear him gasp as he saw the dark blonde hair between the spread of my legs for the first time. Having spent time testing this scenario in front of the mirror in my room I knew full well the panties were so clear it was almost as if I had nothing at all covering my little lips and even my vagina. So much more than excited; I was thrilled. It was extremely difficult to maintain my sweet pretense of ignorance and keep my eyes buried in my book the entire eternity that boy spent under the table searching in vain for that errant pencil.

As an added bonus, in short order I was treated to know just exactly how much Gilbert had enjoyed the view of my pussy I had just given him. Perhaps as a response to the heat he surely was feeling as much as I, the fire alarm bell went off, and we all had to get up immediately and leave the library to go outside. Poor, red-faced Gilbert. He even banged his head on the table as he attempted to scramble back onto his feet. As we all rose to begin filing out, he vainly tried to carry his books in front of him. But he was so excited, surely from just having seen what he thought was my bare naked pussy, he was doomed. I saw it as well as a number of the other girls with me; his schoolboy cock was sticking straight up creating a blatant bulge at the very front of his baggy pants. With the other girls oblivious to the true root of his misery, and me, of course thrilled by the secret knowledge of what I had done, we all giggled at his unfortunate state of distress as we made our way outside.

From this day forward I began to work diligently as a pretty and sexually aware girl should at honing my skills as a fledgling feminine flasher. In almost no time I discovered it wasn't just my own thrill which was heightened exponentially if I could make it appear as if my exposure was an accident or unknown by me. I quickly learned those whom I treated to a quick flash of a naked nipple or an entirely bared breast, or even a long and heated gaze at my bared pussy as I sat at a desk with my skirt up my thighs and my legs open just enough for him to see, they, too were so much more excited if they thought the view was clandestine, and I was completely unaware. It became such an exhilarating challenge to find new ways in which to expose my body to an obviously very willing and very eager public. In seemingly no time since that first fateful day when Gilbert had educated me as to how much he enjoyed looking down my dress, I had my opportunity to graduate from a mere school-girl exhibitionist, to a full-fledged, femme fatale.

I clearly remember it was on a Friday, and I dimly recall it was the thirteenth. I had gone over to my friend Kaylee's house to study. We had an important history of the American Revolution exam coming up the following week and really needed to study together if we were going to make sure we covered all the required reading. I had originally met Kaylee back in middle school. As giggly tween-age girls, a few times, we enjoyed sleepovers at each other's houses and would sometimes share innocent, little kisses while dressed in our nighties and lying close together in Kaylee's bed. Unfortunately, Kaylee and I had different friends and activities in high school, and didn't see much of each other over those years. Now that we were freshmen coeds at the same local university and had this history class together, it just felt natural to renew our friendship. That afternoon at Kaylee's house we could have studied anywhere, but Kaylee chose her bedroom. Her carnation pink room with its lacey white curtains looked almost the same as I remembered, and being alone with Kaylee in her bedroom made me feel a little bit like a middle school girl all over again. Of course, we both would never be able to forget our soft kisses and exciting, little touches as we lay together in the dark. Kaylee had twin beds, but we would share one during my sleepovers. It had been so much fun for Kaylee and me to take turns pretending to be this boy or that boy we liked at school. As I kissed her or she kissed me, we would imagine it was the press of his lips or the tickle and touch of his fingers he were feeling. Yet, being older now, we both had to act as though all that had never happened. We spent several hours quizzing each other on dates and battles and that sort of thing before Kaylee's mother surprised us by coming in to ask if we had looked outside lately. Of course, we hadn't. When we did, we saw that a huge amount of snow had fallen without us even noticing.

Since I was barely out of high school and didn't own my own car, I had ridden my bicycle to Kaylee's house. I told Kaylee's mom I could walk my bike home, but she said it would be too dangerous for me to try to go home before the city plowed the roads. In those days, we didn't have cell phones. I told her I would need to use their phone to call my mother and tell her I would be home late. She surprised me by offering to call my mom and if I wanted to, she would ask if it would be okay for me to spend the night.

I protested, saying I didn't want to be a bother and reminded her I didn't have any pajamas, a toothbrush or anything. Kaylee's mom said I wouldn't be a bother and I could borrow one of her nightgowns. Kaylee was quite petite, especially her little, teacup breasts. I was proud of having developed into a full-fledged 35 C, but since Kaylee's mom was even more buxom than me, I could only image any nightgown she loaned me would be large and loose fitting on my body. Her mom said everything else I needed wouldn't be a problem as Kaylee's dad traveled a lot, and he had several of those goodie bags the airlines give out containing toothbrushes and toothpaste and stuff like that. She then called my mom for me, and I was delighted to learn it wouldn't be a problem if I spent the night with them.

Kaylee and I studied for another hour, then her mom called us in to dinner. We ate in the formal dining room with her mom and dad. Mr. Taylor was in his early forties and very good looking and in excellent shape as a result of his frequent workouts using all the equipment he had in their basement Rec room. After dinner, Kaylee and I kept studying, and later, when we got ready for bed and changed clothes together in her bedroom, we were both giggling like middle schoolers once again. Kaylee, always such a good girl, kept her panties on under her nightgown. Me though, I have never liked to sleep in my panties, so I was completely naked under her mother's rather large cotton flannel nightgown. It had thin straps and was a bit low cut, but definitely not enough to ever be considered sexy by anybody except a flannel freak.

Together, like such sweet innocents, Kaylee and I strolled out to the living room to say good night to her parents. Their family custom, as was the same at my house was for a good night kiss. I had kissed Kaylee's parents good night when I had been at their house for sleepovers back in middle school, and though I was older now, I didn't mind keeping with the tradition. Her mom smiled and kissed me on the cheek, and I then walked over to her dad to kiss his cheek, as well.

For some reason my heart was already beating strongly in my breast as I came to him. He was sitting down in his easy chair, so I had to bend over to reach his cheek. As I did so, the left strap of the too-large nightgown slipped off my shoulder, and my entire left breast was bared to his view. I paused, momentarily frozen while Kaylee's dad looked directly at my openly exposed nipple only a few inched from his eyes.

It was truly a moment of moments. Actually closer to his lips than to his eyes, my nipple immediately sprang erect, as his eyes grew wide. Time seemed to stand still for me, but it couldn't have been more than a second, maybe two at most. Coming back to myself, I quickly pulled the nightgown back up, and overwhelmed with an excited flush and with my heart beating up in my throat, I gave him a quick little daughterly peck on the cheek. As I left the room, it wasn't lost on me he seemed to be looking at me quite differently from the way in which he had always looked at me before. Luckily, no one except Mr. Taylor had seen my nightgown slip down and openly expose my bare breast.

This became our very first secret.

Back in Kaylee's room I could barely sleep. All evening, I had secretly hoped Kaylee and I might share a kiss or two again after going to bed, but now that we were older and had grown, it really didn't seem practical for us to sleep together in one of her twin beds. I was disappointed about not discovering if Kaylee was eager to resume the role-playing we had explored back in middle school. But I was so very excited at the thought that Kaylee's dad had actually seen my entire naked breast, that I had much more thrilling things on my mind. Adding to my excitement, in that long moment Mr. Taylor and I had shared, I could tell how excited he was at the sight of my body. While lying only a few feet away from Kaylee, very quietly and quite shamelessly I played with my pussy and my nipples for quite a while. All the while, and with Kaylee so close but completely unaware as to what I was doing, I was toying with myself between my legs, touching, tickling and shamelessly sliding my fingers so that I was trembling and shaking when I brought myself to the edge and then beyond. In my mind, I kept reliving that electrifying first flash over and over again. It was my own bare-naked nipple, only inches from Mr. Taylor's eyes. "Naked," that word seemed to resound in my mind. There was simply no escaping the fact my entire breast had slipped out, and not only had Mr. Taylor not appeared offended, and he hadn't said a single word, but when I stood up, he actually smiled at me.