Confessions of a Fledgling Flasher Pt. 02

With my pink, schoolgirl blouse and my hair in girlish pigtails, as I lay there acting dazed from the fall, actually a whirlwind was raging in my mind. Lying back with my knees spread wide and all those men looking between my legs was beyond thrilling. I felt as though I could actually feel their eyes touching upon me everywhere they looked.

Something only I was aware of was that when I had plopped down, pulled by the thong in back, the fabric in front had wedged up even more tightly between my lips and was pressing down upon the tip of my swollen pink rosebud like the tip of a finger. Teetering on the verge of a molten meltdown between my legs, the excitement of all those eyes on me along with the throbbing within my little rosebud was simply too much. My breath caught in my throat as if I was at the top of a rollercoaster and hanging there on the verge of plunging down. Then all at once, an almost soul-shattering orgasm erupted from deep down within my vagina. Now truly lost in a daze, and with every muscle between my legs quivering, spasming, and causing a moan to slip from my lips, the next thing I realized, more men than I could count were standing over me.

All these men were standing around me, yet not a single one of them had made any move whatsoever to help me up, and not a one of them was looking at my face. Content to play the innocent victim and lay back for as long as I could, I reveled in every second of this unplanned opportunity to bare as much of me as possible for as long as possible. Though I was acting dazed from my fall, suddenly I experienced an overwhelming urge to see what they were seeing, and lifting my head, I stole a quick glance down. I could see my naval and then lower down the lips of my pussy appearing as openly exposed as if I had on no panties at all. I knew I should really close my legs and try to get to my feet, but the orgasm had left my knees rubbery and weak. As well, it was simply too much fun to continue to play the part of a dazed young girl who's caught up in a situation beyond her control and is entirely unaware of just how exposed and vulnerable she is.

Yet no good thing can last forever. Suddenly there was the waitress with my skirt in her hand standing over me, and then one gentleman on each side reached down, took my hands and helped me to my feet. Accepting my skirt, I grudgingly rewrapped it around my waist and sealed the Velcro closed. I know my cheeks were positively scarlet and my ears on fire. Surely all those around me thought it was from my embarrassment, never suspecting it was from the organism I had just experienced.

With so many people asking me if I was okay, I mumbled to everyone that I was fine. Two distinguished looking gentlemen, one on either side of me pressed business cards into my hands, each telling me he was a lawyer, and if I wanted to sue I should call. The waitress gave them each a dirty look, assured them I wasn't hurt, and then put her arm around my shoulder and quickly ushered me back inside. Turning me around so I faced her, she placed her hands on my shoulders and then asked me point blank, "Where are your parents, hon?" She definitely appeared shocked when I told her, "My parents aren't here. I'm not a child. I'm over eighteen and here all on my own."

At first she didn't seem to believe me, but once she felt satisfied I was okay, when she let me go I walked straight back to the ladies room. I wasn't hurt or in need of a bathroom break. What I needed was a different kind of relief. Once I was back inside the same stall I had used to prepare, I locked the door, and it only took me a few seconds of gently sliding the tips of my fingers around the tip of swollen little rosebud to bring myself to another soul-shaking orgasm. If there were any women or girls in the ladies room when I erupted, I can only imagine what they must have thought was going on inside that stall!

With this success behind me, I was now bound and determined not to allow my clandestine, little encounter with Mr. Taylor to be the end of it.

As it turned out, my next opportunity to be alone with Mr. Taylor didn't happen with another sleep over with Kaylee, and it wasn't very long after my little exhibitionist escapade at the golf club. A few days before spring break, Kaylee called me, saying that she and her mom were taking a trip to visit an aunt who had a beach house, and she would like to know if I would like to come along. Then she added, "There are only three bedrooms, so if you don't mind sleeping in the same bed with me, you and I would have to share a room."

Not just from her invitation to share a bed but from the sound of Kaylee's voice, immediately I suspected she might finally be ready for us to pick back up where the two of us had left off during our middle school sleepovers. To once again lie in bed with Kaylee and kiss and pet each other as we'd done when we were just young girls, and perhaps now to have the opportunity to explore some more womanly intimacies with each other was quite tempting. Yet now that I was aware Kaylee and her mother would be out-of-town for an entire week, and Mr. Taylor would be home alone, I reminded her I had made the track team. Then I told her a little white lie, saying I had to get ready for an upcoming track meet and had practices scheduled throughout spring break.

From the moment I hung up I began trying to devise a plan to visit Mr. Taylor. Thinking about my little, white lie I'd told Kaylee about having to go to track practice, I had a scathingly brilliant idea. The very next day after Kaylee and her mom left, I called Kaylee's house knowing full well she wasn't there. As all good girls are taught to do, the moment Mr. Taylor answered, I introduced myself, offering a bright and innocent, "Hello, Mr. Taylor. This is Jenny Lynn. I'm not sure if you remember me. But I had a sleepover with Kaylee a few weeks ago."

Standing there in our own kitchen and holding the phone close to my mouth to make sure no one could overhear, my heart was pounding up in my throat, my palms were cold and clammy, and my toes were tingly as there came a bit of pause. While planning my call, I had hoped Mr. Taylor would respond with an excited, 'Are you kidding, Jenny Lynn! All I've been doing is thinking about you!'

Instead, he replied with a very grownup sounding, "I'm sorry, Jenny Lynn. If you are calling for Kaylee, she and her mom have gone on a trip. Didn't she tell you?"

"Oh, yes, yes she did, Mr. Taylor." I held my breath as the thrill of the knowledge of what I was about to try to do flushed through me. "I know this is presumptuous ... but ... but I was wondering ... I was wondering if ... if ... if I could maybe come over some time and use some of the equipment in your gym."

There I'd done it. That first hard part was behind me. Trying to keep my voice from quivering and hoping to sound as sweet and innocent as possible, I added, "I saw what a great set up you have the last time I visited." Then ever so sweetly. "I'm sure you remember my last visit? We almost enjoyed some orange juice together. But we didn't quite have enough time to find it in the refrigerator."

There came an even longer stretch of silence in which I found myself again holding my breath as the seconds ticked by. I was terrified he might come back with something even more grown up and mature such as, 'I really am sorry, Jenny Lynn, but I think things got just a little out-of-hand. I don't know what came over me, and I hope you'll please forgive me and just forget about it.'

It seemed like forever before he broke his silence and responded with, "Yes, Jenny Lynn, I definitely remember." He paused again, then lowered his voice as if someone might overhear. "You really wouldn't think I could forget, could you?"

Emboldened, I pressed forward. "I'm so glad. You have no idea how often I've thought about that morning since then. But, as I was saying, I was really impressed with your work out room. You are in such awesome shape that I thought if I could exercise with the same equipment you use it might help me prepare for a track meet I have coming up. If you'd be so kind as to allow me to come over," it was my turn to pause as I worked up my courage and hoped to sound as innocent and naive as possible, "I think if I spent some time with your equipment, it would do wonders for my body."

Mr. Taylor immediately came back with, "Why thank you, Jenny Lynn, that's such a very flattering thing for you to say. Of course you can come over any time you'd like when I'm home. In fact, how soon would you like to come?"

'How soon would you like to come.' The possibility of a hidden meaning behind those words stirred in my mind.

Lost in envisioning one of my fantasies, before I could answer, he added, "How about tomorrow, Jenny Lynn? Would tomorrow evening be okay? I'll be home from work around six and you could stop by any time after seven."

I was so excited. While holding the phone clenched to my ear, I actually rose up on my tiptoes. "Sure, Mr. Taylor, I'll look forward to seeing you then. Oh, and Mr. Taylor," learning to tease with my voice as well as my body I added as coyly as I could, "I was wondering if you might have a little time to please show me how to properly handle your equipment? Some of your machines look very complicated. Our coach has stressed how important it is to train our bodies correctly to avoid any injury, and your expertise with showing me the ins and outs of handling your equipment should help me get every inch of my body into the best shape possible."

"Of course, Jenny Lynn." Hopefully, enjoying playing our little cat and mouse game of shared innocence as much as I was, Mr. Taylor chuckled warmly then added, "Helping you to get every inch of your body into shape would be my pleasure."

I was thrilled! Absolutely thrilled beyond compare! That night, even though I normally prefer to sleep naked, I wore the nightie I had worn for Mr. Taylor. Beneath the gauzy fabric, my nipples were as hard and stiff as I could ever remember. While imagining so many of my favorite scenarios unfolding with Mr. Taylor, even the tiniest touches around my clitoris were enough to send me tumbling over the edge, and I came again and again before finally I was able to fall asleep. Once, I even moaned so loudly, my mom, who was watching television out in the den with my father, came and knocked at my bedroom door and asked me if I was alright.

Waiting for the day to drag slowly by was pure torture. Since I was well aware Mr. Taylor was a married man, I couldn't be sure if he would want to pick up where we left off. Yet having that little bit of doubt only served to heighten the tension as well as my excitement. Kaylee had confided to me that her parents had slept in separate bedrooms for as long as she could remember, and though Mrs. Taylor was usually nice to me, she always seemed aloof and formal, perhaps what some people would call cold. Even as young and inexperienced as I was, I felt pretty sure she and Mr. Taylor didn't have much of a sex life. Which was probably why a man like Mr. Taylor would be willing to risk having a little fun on the side with a friend of daughter.

Flashing and teasing is all about the game; feigning innocence even while doing the naughtiest of things is what makes it all so thrilling and fulfilling. Though I definitely planned to enjoy a little flashing with Mr. Taylor when I returned to his house, one of my fieriest fantasies was one in which the moment I stepped through his door, without any hesitation at all, Mr. Taylor wraps me in his arms and kisses me deeply. Then he slowly undresses me piece by piece, leaving my clothes piled up right there on the floor. When he has me completely naked, he leads me by my hand over to the couch in the living room. Without either of us ever having said a single word with our lips, but communicating our desire for each other with our eyes, I lay down on the couch, and looking up at him in anticipation, I spread my legs for him as wide as I possibly can. Even wider than when I lay on the patio with my knees apart letting all those men see everything between my legs. Mr. Taylor is standing so close to me; I reach out and pull down his tennis shorts. He's so hard and stiff it makes my mouth water. Never taking his eyes off me, he gets on his knees between my legs, just looking down at me lying naked on the couch. Even though I'm all wet and dying to feel him inside me, the exhibitionist in me is only too eager to allow him to feast his eyes on my naked body if that's what he wants. Then, as he lays down atop me, I wrap my arms about his shoulders and kiss him deeply as he slides himself all the way up inside me.

This was a thrilling fantasy. Yet somehow, I hoped Mr. Taylor would be willing to play my naughty little game with me, and rather than immediately start off where we'd left off in the kitchen, we would act as though none of that had happened at all. I had never bent over in front of the refrigerator and showed him my bare bottom. He had never lifted up my nightie, cupped my breasts, then bent me over the kitchen table and rubbed that stiff bulge filling his shorts up and down between the spread of my legs. I would simply be a friend of his daughter who had come over for a little exercise, and then little by little, hint by hint, step by step, we would take it from there.

When evening finally arrived, I packed my gym bag with my purple thong leotard, blue shorts, sweat socks and my tennis shoes. I could have worn my workout clothes underneath my street clothes, but the idea of having the opportunity to undress completely was so exciting to me. My plan was to wear just the leotard, but I brought the shorts in case Mr. Taylor did something entirely unexpected and objected when he saw my bare bottom so openly exposed by the leotard's thin strip of thong in back.

Yet after what had happened between us in the kitchen, I was pretty sure he wouldn't object, but I had already realized, even at this young age, a great deal of the pleasure and erotic thrill was is in being ready for anything and never taking anyone or anything for granted. The anticipation is so much richer when I truly don't know how things are going to end up. I had already fantasized about being with him so many times and in so many ways; even just the knowledge that I was finally going to attempt to put one of those scenarios into play was ever so exciting.

The day before I had told my mom I was going to use Mr. Taylor's basement gym, and she had complimented me for being so dedicated to a goal and for wanting to get into the best shape possible. It was ever so fortunate she had no idea as to what my goal truly was, and just how dedicated I was to achieving that end.

Before leaving home, I put on my skirt from my patio adventure over my transparent panties, which, thankfully, my mom still had no idea I had. Not wanting to raise even the slightest suspicions as to my true motives, I also wore my pink schoolgirl blouse. For a bra, I chose one I knew would reveal a lot of my breasts if I had an opportunity to bend over.

Promptly at seven, I was standing with my gym bag in front of Mr. Taylor's door. My mouth was dry and my finger was all trembly as I reached out and rang the doorbell. Mr. Taylor must have been waiting at the door, because it opened almost immediately.

Rising up on my tiptoes, I wanted to look bright and cheerful, though inwardly, I was positively churning. "Good evening, Mr. Taylor!" When he smiled, I smiled right back. "Thank you so much for letting me come over to enjoy your equipment."

I wasn't all-too familiar with the term double-entendre at the time, but Mr. Taylor obviously knew one when he heard one. He laughed and graciously replied, "You're entirely welcome. A delightful young lady like yourself, Jenny Lynn, you can enjoy my equipment any time you have the desire to do so."

I was so anxious and eager to get started, I forgot all about polite formality, stepping inside and asking, "Is there some place I can change into my gym stuff?"

"Sure." Mr. Taylor closed the door behind me. "There's a bathroom just off from the exercise room. You can change in there."

With him leading the way, we went downstairs to the finished basement, which doubled as his exercise room. I was very impressed. He had all four walls lined with mirrors, which made a very large room seem positively enormous.

Mr. Taylor had almost as much equipment as the fitness center I sometimes used. Not as many of each kind, of course, but as much variety. There was a Universal Fitness Station, an In Flight Multi Lat Arm Machine, a Maximus Abdominal/Back Machine, a Tunturi Rower, a Matrix Upright Bike, a Noramco Super Treadmill, several racks of free weights and multiple padded floor mats in various places. Almost all of this equipment had model numbers, but it was all I could do to memorize the brand names so I could tell my mom what kind of equipment I had used.

Being no expert, I really didn't know how good the equipment was, but it certainly looked professional and expensive. Kaylee had told me that her dad spent a lot on his exercise equipment, and I could believe her. It certainly looked first rate.

I have to admit, it was a little awkward, us being alone and all, and of course, both of us knowing full well what had happened in the kitchen just over a month ago. Yet, I did find my voice, and I told Mr. Taylor how impressed I was with his exercise room, and then added, "I doubt I'll ever be able to learn how to use it all."

"Nonsense, Jenny Lynn." He was standing back a few feet away and looking at me with the most wonderfully pleased expression. "You're a very intelligent young lady. I'll show you exactly how to use each piece of equipment and even stay with you while you get used to it to be sure you've got it down pat before we move on to the next piece of equipment. You don't mind my doing this, do you? You won't feel put off if I stick around to see how you do?"

Mind? Mind? I was as thrilled as I was terrified. The entire time since he'd greeted me at the door, every bit of every memory from the time my strap had first fallen down and I'd first exposed my breast to him, to his gloriously hard cock pressing up into my naked pussy in the kitchen, it was all tumbling wildly through my mind. And the fact we were all so caught up in such polite social pretense, as though none of what had occurred between us before had ever happened, this only caused my excitement about what I hoped might happen to feel positively electric.

"No, I don't mind at all, Mr. Taylor." Putting down my gym bag on the floor, I somehow managed to close off those memories and maintain an even voice. "Actually, I would really appreciate your watching me. I'm sure with your help; I'll be able to do every exercise to my best benefit."

There ensued a bit of an awkward silence, while we both searched for something more to say.

"Alright, then!" Mr. Taylor came to life, clapping his hands. "Why don't you go on and get changed? The bathroom is right over there."

I looked to where Mr. Taylor was pointing. There were two swinging doors, styled as if in an old time Western saloon. The top of the doors were at my shoulders and the bottom just above my knees. The doors weren't solid but were fashioned from slats positioned at slightly canted angles. Right now, they hung slightly open in the middle, allowing me to see right through to the sink, and the toilet.

Mr. Taylor obviously noticed the look of slight consternation on my face. "I hope using the bathroom as changing room is okay? But, you're certainly welcome to use any of the bathrooms upstairs if you'd really rather."

I gulped slightly, "No. This will be fine." Looking to the doors, then back to Mr. Taylor, I gave him a quick smile. "See you in a couple of minutes."