tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThings I've Worn in Public Ch. 01

Things I've Worn in Public Ch. 01


My name's Francine. I'm single and 28, and I've been showing off for almost ten years. I love experimenting with different types of revealing clothing and seeing how people respond. I'll share with you some of the more memorable episodes.

If I wanted to, I could put on thick glasses and drab clothes and simply blend into a crowd. My body doesn't grab people's attention unless I want it to. Unless you look closely, I basically look the same as I did in high school: five foot six, good physical shape, medium breasts, slim waist and narrow butt. I've never been too happy with my hair: it's mousy brown and fine, hard to work with. My legs, though, I wouldn't trade with anyone. I walk all the time, and it's kept them toned yet feminine.

All in all, I like my body a lot. Sometimes I'll just stand nude in my bedroom in front of the full-length mirror, checking myself out. This always sparks the urge to find a new way to show myself off to others. Judging from the reaction I get, the guys really like my body too, even though I'm not a blonde with 38-inch boobs. Go figure.

* * *

Between semesters in college, I spent the fourth of July with a couple girlfriends at a theme park that had some water rides. We dressed up knowing we would probably get soaked. Megan wore a one-piece maillot with nylon boy shorts that drip dried. Karleen had a tankini with similar shorts. I just wore a regular bikini. It wasn't sheer, or even obscenely skimpy: just a cute little white and burgundy pattern, with spaghetti straps to keep it together.

It turned out lots of girls wore outfits like my friends', but I was the only one walking around the park in a bikini. So even though all my private parts were covered I felt really exposed. It was a great feeling, knowing so many people were checking me out as I walked among them. One man put a hand on my bare shoulder, to ask that I let him squeeze by, and even casual touches like that felt electric.

We got in line for a ride where you plunge down a slide in a raft. Megan worried the ties would come loose on my bikini, but I said it was impossible: I had tied them really tight and double-checked all four knots. Nothing would come loose. But the idea of that happening really excited me. Suppose both top and bottom came loose as I was coming down the slide. In the churning water, they could be lost for a long time, even forever. And I might be spinning and sliding so fast that I would be more concerned about staying on the raft than being able to cover myself up. The ride ends right next to the people waiting in line; they would all see me stumble out of there drenched, dizzy, out of breath, and naked!

Deep down, I wasn't worried this would happen. But at the top of the stairs Megan and Karleen chickened out, not because they were in any danger of losing their suits, but because they got a good look at how steep the slide was. I tried to convince them to go, but they refused.

The guy ahead of us heard what was going on and offered to go with me. His name was Brad, and he was lifeguard cute, with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a tight tummy. I could tell he thought I was cute too, and all of a sudden it seemed like I was 13 again, giggling and not sure what to say.

Brad was a total gentleman on the ride, even though he was checking me out from time to time. Our tube zoomed down the slide, and it seemed like half a second later we were at the end, where my friends were waiting. None of my knots had even come a little loose.

Brad wanted to go again, and so did I. Megan and Karleen realized we were hooking up, and excused themselves. If we didn't meet back earlier, we would meet at the exit after the fireworks show.

We did the ride twice more, and then walked together, checking out other rides and booths. My bikini felt damp and clammy against my skin, especially after the rest of me had dried off. I knew it was clinging to my butt, showing off the shape much more than when it was dry. After a while, we were holding hands, and I was really enjoying flirting with a cute guy while wearing not much at all.

After "dinner" (pizza, chicken strips and Cokes) we were beyond flirting, and both in the mood to make out. Trouble was, there was no privacy anywhere. Brad raised the idea of taking me home, but I wasn't ready for that; plus, I didn't want to completely ditch my friends. So we stayed. The sun set and we looked for a good spot to watch the fireworks.

When the first fireworks went up, the walkway was packed around us. Everyone craned their necks, looking skyward. Brad stood behind me, hands on my shoulders at first, then hugging me around the waist. I snuggled closer to him, enjoying the feel of him.

When he untied the knot in back, one of two holding up my top, I didn't resist. He caressed my bare back for a while. It was such a thrill. My top was just resting loosely on my breasts.

He moved to my sides, taking his time. I was getting giddy with anticipation, for what I was expecting and hoping he would do. I shivered as his fingers moved under my loose top to stroke my breasts. He pinched my nipples, very gently, but the sensation almost made me shriek. This was totally naughty. I loved it.

A few minutes later, he took my top completely off. (I later found out he had stuffed it in his pocket!) Now topless, I started thinking about how many people were standing very close to me. It wasn't pitch black; the bright fireworks often lit up the area. And if anyone took a break from looking skyward, they might notice the cute girl in the bikini had her top off!

I was supposed to be watching the fireworks, but all my attention was on what Brad was doing. He had my breasts good and tingly before he started roaming downward along my sides, to my waist and hips. He put one hand on the small of my back, and then slid it down beneath my waistband to cup my right cheek. I was getting more and more excited. The bikini bottom was the only clothing I had left, and he was inside.

He put both hands inside, fondling my butt, stretching the damp bikini and causing it to inch down. Would he stop there? I hoped not. My pussy was very wet now, and it wasn't from the water slide. A big firework blossomed above us, lighting us up for a moment like a spotlight.

Oh god, Brad had slipped my bikini down in back, revealing my bare bottom. His hands moved to my hips, slowly pushing the straps down. One finger, then two explored in front, along my pubic hair and down to my pussy lips. Boy, was I ready for him. I gasped when he stuck a fingertip inside, and was thankful for all the booming that drowned me out.

He fingered me for a little bit, then changed his mind and started untying the knots holding my bikini together. Hurry up, Brad, I thought. One side, then the other; I had moved my feet apart shoulder width by this time, and the bikini bottom fell to the ground. I never saw it again.

His hands roamed over my breasts, tummy, butt, and pussy, almost frantic in his hunger. I was so charged up that knowing I was in the middle of a big crowd naked just made me more excited instead of scared.

I turned around. He started kissing me. Here, in the dark, everyone's attention elsewhere, was the sort of private place we had looked for before but couldn't find. I wondered if Brad, as he drove to the park today, had any idea that later on he would be making out with a naked woman. Probably not!

I wanted a lot more than making out by that time, and reached between his legs. The head of his erect penis was poking out one of the legs of his trunks. I pulled down his trunks and it sprung up, hard.

No way he could resist this. He was strong enough to lift me up so he could enter me, and supported me by my butt as we started thrusting. Good thing the fireworks were getting louder; we were making noises of our own. My breasts squished against his chest as we moved back and forth. I was in heaven; I wanted this to last forever. But it was so intense that I came; and this caused him to come seconds later. Then the fireworks show climaxed too, the grand finale where they set off every firework left in the box.

He set me down; I had to get dressed before the floodlights came up. The park was closing for the night. He pulled my top out of his pocket and I put it on, tying the knots as best as I could. The bikini bottom I couldn't find. I guess some guy took it as a souvenir. I kissed Brad goodbye and had to walk out of the park with my friends, covering my pussy with my hands, while my butt was bare. They teased me about it for a long time. The security guards frowned at me; if I wasn't already leaving they would have kicked me out. The male guards were happy, though.

Brad and I dated for the rest of the summer. I spent several nights in his bed, and the sex was fun, but our hottest time together was that first night at the park.

* * *

Several years ago there was a girl named Keiko, a 19-year-old Japanese girl living in Waikiki. I never got to meet her, but read some of her stories. She loved to show off, and judging from men's reactions, she was very pretty. Her most remarkable features were large breasts (especially for an Asian woman, she said) and a hairless pussy. She didn't shave; hair simply didn't grow there.

She told what happened one day when she walked along the beach wearing only a towel. I wanted to do the same thing, so I drove to the beach, went to the changing room and walked out with my own towel. Secured with a knot just above my breasts, the towel covered me almost to the knee. Pretty demure, I know; but in Keiko's story, her towel fell completely off. I wanted the same thing to happen.

Keiko bought a drink and then walked along, drink in one hand and handbag in the other. I bought a mai tai and did the same. As she walked, the breeze was sometimes enough to flip up the towel, high enough to reveal her pussy. That didn't work for me because my towel was too long.

Also, the swaying of Keiko's large breasts caused her knot to slowly loosen, leading to the climax where the falling towel unveils her nude body. That didn't work for me either; I don't have large breasts like she does. I could have walked a hundred miles and my knot wouldn't have budged. What a dud, I was thinking.

I tried retying the knot much looser, and saw the towel fall immediately. So a few people got a good look while I picked it up and retied it. But that wasn't the same. I wanted the feeling of accidental nudity, of slowly losing the towel while being unable to do anything about it. I tried several times, and couldn't find the middle ground. Either the knot could survive a nuclear attack, or it would fail immediately.

A few guys walked up, trying to pick me up, hoping I'd be game for more than a flash. I pretended I was just having trouble getting the knot to stay without being uncomfortably tight. I didn't say anything about exposing myself, so I could imply it was all accidental. I gave them a flash of bare boob as I stood there retying, and realized they would hang around until I shooed them away. I sighed and tried one more time, tying a knot deliberately loose. When the towel fell away, I shrieked and covered up with my hands.

One guy picked up the towel and offered to put it on. I raised my arms to get them out of the way, and he took another peek before wrapping it around me. When tying the knot, he let two fingers underneath brush against my breast for a moment. Well, aren't you sneaky, I thought. Then the knot was done. He had tied it pretty securely.

My towel adventure was still kind of a bust (ha ha), and I didn't feel like continuing. I thanked the guys, said I had to leave, and blew them a kiss goodbye.

I included this story to show that not everything works out like I planned! Even there on the beach, I could imagine Keiko losing her towel ten yards away, the men's eyes popping out at the sight of her big boobs and bald pussy, and forgetting I was even there.

"Damn you, Keiko!" I wanted to shout at the sky. Just kidding. But I wonder where she is now?

* * *

The T-shirt was Kaylee's idea. I'm not assigning blame, I'm giving credit.

After college, I got a good job and found a really nice apartment; but right away needed to find someone to share the rent. Kaylee was the first to respond to my ad. I decided I wouldn't need to interview anyone else, and she moved in.

Kaylee was gorgeous, a knockout. Vietnamese, with long glossy black hair, delicate face and light brown eyes. Just over five feet tall, she had shapely legs, a narrow waist, and large, perfectly sculpted breasts. They were fake, not fooling anyone, but the guys didn't mind. No, when she strutted into a room with a tight miniskirt and clingy top, guys lost their train of thought.

She was a lingerie model, posing for magazines like Maxim and attending import car shows. Her published photos were almost prudish in a way: showing as much skin as possible, but never a bare nipple or exposed pussy or pubic hair. It was sometimes ridiculous, the lengths they would go to abide by this. Kaylee could be obviously nude, but with her back turned, or legs crossed just so, or holding a loose top at just the right position over her chest, to cover the naughty bits. I thought it was kind of a tease. Just short of Playboy nudity without ever going there.

Behind the scenes was a different story. Kaylee had all sorts of fantastic stories about the wild stuff that went on after a photo shoot or at the parties. It's a good thing she really enjoyed sex, because there was a lot of it. And the photographers would keep private albums, the shots they took candid or between poses, the photos that could never be published.

Kaylee saw one photographer's album and was so pleased with the pictures of herself that she started asking for copies. She showed me her own albums, pictures of some friends, but mostly of her. They were amazing. There was no censorship, no teasing; some shots were very explicit. Full frontal nudes, nipples, pussy, everything. Sexual shots (some simulated, some real) with men and women. "You're the only friend outside the industry I've shown these to," she said. She asked me not to tell anyone else about them.

Kaylee dated a lot of guys, but the nice thing was she never took any back to our apartment. She wanted to keep her bedroom as a quiet retreat. I sometimes brought guys home, and she didn't mind. She would just hang out in her room.

There were still some funny incidents, though. One Saturday night I was making dinner for a guy named Bill when Kaylee came in. She wore nothing particularly obscene, just tight jeans and a sweater, and she didn't flirt with the guy: just Hi, Nice to Meet You, and she went back to her room. Bill, however, was distracted from that moment on, even though he tried to hide it. Like his brain had followed her into the bedroom. He was of no use to me after that. I had to send him home.

During quiet evenings or rainy weekends, when it was just Kaylee and I hanging around the apartment, her favorite outfit was just a T-shirt. Usually a baby tee, white or pastel, thin and stretchy and a size too small, baring her midriff and clinging to every curve of her upper body. And that was it. Her bare butt became a familiar sight for me, as well as her pussy, which she kept shaved. She never asked if it was OK to walk around bottomless: her style was just to assume there would be no problem. And I didn't mind.

Sometimes we'd sit on opposite ends of the couch and she'd tell me about the latest party, where she'd be mostly or fully naked during the night, and wake up in some guy's house, her clothes somewhere else, like lost luggage. As she talked, and I sat there captivated, she tended to have a finger between her legs, idly playing with herself. Sometimes just stroking the lips, sometimes inserting a fingertip. I think it was just to keep herself buzzed; she wouldn't wind herself up enough to come that way. She assumed I would have no problem with that, either, and she was right.

I could watch her and listen to her for hours. Maybe days. There was one Sunday afternoon where she had me nearly hypnotized. She guided a manicured finger in and out of her moist pussy. Her white baby tee clung to her oversized breasts, her nipples vainly trying to poke through. I think she loved having me as an audience, and a housemate who was cool with her just being herself.

"You should take off that shirt," I said.

"Why?" With her looks, Kaylee could get away with being blunt.

I could have had a better answer ready: it's just us, you'll be more comfortable, something like that. Instead, the honest answer came out: "I want to see you."

She stood up, and for an anxious moment I thought she was going to leave, as if she had just realized she had made a huge mistake. But she didn't walk away. Without saying anything, she peeled off her top, pulling it over her head, freeing those magnificent breasts. She walked toward me.

I honestly thought I had no interest in women. Still, I don't care if you're man or woman, gay, straight, or bi/curious: if Kaylee climbs naked onto your lap, she's going to convert you. I sat there wide-eyed as she straddled me, my mouth agape until she started kissing it.

I did so many things for the first time that afternoon. First time touching a naked woman. First time kissing on the mouth, with or without tongue. First time touching her breasts, then kissing them. First time with another woman flat on her back, my hand finding its way to her pussy, shaved or not; first time with a finger inside. First time with my tongue, tasting her. First time making another woman come.

Kaylee stripped me, and it seemed to take forever: shoes, socks, shorts, shirt, panties, bra. "You shouldn't wear so much around the house," she said. She kissed and licked me everywhere. Each place her lips touched I could feel her love flowing out, making it glow: my neck, shoulders, nipples, navel, thighs, knees, toes. She saved my pussy for last. I came so hard that for several seconds I couldn't see. I was amazed to realize what had to be true: Kaylee had been attracted to me for some time. And despite her self-confidence, her experience, and her blunt attitude, she had been scared: afraid to mess up a good friendship, and a good living arrangement. Instead, she had kept to what she figured was safe, and hoped that I would make a move.

Overjoyed, relieved and newly confident, she savored me, explored me, and kept me aroused. I devoured her like a sailor on his last day of leave. I ran my fingers through her waterfall of hair, sniffing the scent of her floral conditioner, letting her tresses spill over my thighs or my breasts. For a while we did nothing but look into each other's eyes. I buried my face between her breasts, reaching behind and between her legs, inserting my finger inside her as far as I could reach. She kneeled over my head as I lay on my back, towering over me, as I licked her again, nearly bringing her to tears when she climaxed. I was so happy I was close to crying too.

Kaylee wore me out. When she led me to my room, I was already enervated, and when I collapsed on my bed, I was exhausted. I lay supine, legs apart, while she sat cross-legged next to me, slowly caressing my breast. I was getting excited again, but had no energy to move.

"I didn't know if you were into other girls," she said, pensive. "I took a big chance."

"I don't know if I'm really bi," I said. I stared at her breasts, hungering, wishing I could manage to raise my head, take a nipple in my mouth. "I think... I think I'm just Kaylee-sexual."

She laughed. "That's clever! I like that." She lay down, snuggled next to me, and we slept until about midnight. Then woke up starving, wondering what to eat.

She shared my bed from that night on, until she got engaged and moved out.

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