Confessions of an ExhibitionistbySeahawk76©
Hello. My name is Melissa and I'm an exhibitionist.
I didn't actually say those words out loud; I just imagined standing up and saying them to the twenty or so people sitting in this community center meeting room. I was also fantasizing about stripping off all of my clothes as I spoke, which probably helps explain why I ended up at an AA meeting in the first place. You see, my addiction has nothing to do with drugs or alcohol, although it can be as potentially career damaging as battling either of those demons. That's why I came here tonight hoping for some insight into how to stop myself before it was too late. And as I listened to people tell stories about their first beer or first line of cocaine I thought back to how it had all begun for me over seven years ago.
I knew I was hooked from the very first time I stood naked in a place where I wasn't supposed to be naked and felt that strange mixture of dread, excitement, fear, embarrassment, and arousal coursing through my body. I still remember vividly the first time I felt the gentle swaying of my unfettered breasts as I walked across the dew-covered grass with the cool night air caressing my bare skin. Looking back now at those first tentative steps into public exhibitionism they were really quite tame, but that's the way addictions start, don't they? You get a little taste and want more and more.
I obviously understood back then that there were potential consequences involved in my new hobby, but does any eighteen year-old really fully understand the meaning of risk? Even though I knew it would be humiliating if I got caught, that was part of the excitement. Many of life's greatest thrills involve a delicate dance on the ledge between pleasure and pain.
So here I am now, on the threshold of a promising career that might be ruined if my extracurricular activities ever come to light, and I'm still dancing on that ledge and don't know how to stop. I'm torn between my desire to keep going - to keep experiencing that thrill over and over again - and my fear of what might eventually happen if I do.
I'd tried more socially acceptable forms of satisfying my naked in public fantasies by going to nude beaches and nudist resorts, but those had proven to be very unsatisfying. I realized after awhile that it wasn't enough to merely be nude in public; it had to be in a setting where nudity was not allowed or expected. It was the thrill of being seen, being caught, being humiliated, that were fueling my addiction. And as I sat quietly listening to others talk about their struggles to overcome their own addictions, I found my mind drifting and I began reliving those first tentative steps.
It'd all started the summer before my senior year of high school when my Dad decided to remodel my bedroom.
"But Dad, where am I supposed to sleep while you're working on my room?"
"How about your sister's room?"
"No way!" My younger sister was two years younger than me and I knew that if we had to share the same bed for any length of time that we'd try to strangle each other before it was all over.
"Well, there's always the couch then, hon," Dad said.
"For how long?"
"Just for a week or so."
"Yeah, right," I said as I rolled my eyes. My Dad fancied himself a home improvement expert and I have to admit that his projects eventually turned out pretty good. But you could always take his estimate of how long something would take to finish and multiply it by about three or four. Knocking out a wall and adding a walk-in closet didn't sound like a "week or so" project to me so I mentally prepared myself to be without my room for at least a month.
"Alright then," he replied. "If you don't like either of those options I can always set up the tent out in the backyard and you can sleep outside. It'll be like camping out."
"Outside in a tent? Am I supposed to be like a Bedouin or something?" I whined.
"Yeah, it's going to be exactly like that," he replied sarcastically. "It'll be a difficult, nomadic life for you, but if you survive it you'll have proven yourself worthy of the tribe. Listen, Melissa, I'm not going to put you up in a motel so you tell me where you want to sleep."
So that's how I came to find myself sleeping in a small two-man tent in my backyard for nearly a month. With an air mattress, a sleeping bag, a couple of pillows and some music to listen to I wasn't exactly roughing it, and after the first couple of nights I decided it wasn't so bad.
On the third night I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. I unzipped the door and, still half asleep, crawled out of the tent wearing only the tank top and panties I'd been sleeping in. I walked to the back door of the house and turned the knob only to find it locked. Shit. Why did they lock the door? Out of habit, I guess.
I looked around and for the first time realized just how exposed I was standing there in my tank top and panties. Our house was on a large plot of land at the edge of a very small town. The backyard was unfenced with a large grassy lawn and a small shed and garden at the rear of it where we grew corn and other vegetables. To my right as I faced the back door was a large untended field that stretched about an acre with our closest neighbor's house on the other side. To my left, past a much smaller field and a narrow road, was the city park. We had no neighbors to speak of (at least not within several hundred yards), but there were always a few RVs and trailers parked just across the street at the park, which served as the town's only tourist campground.
I scurried back behind my tent and peeked out at the trailers and RVs. There was virtually no chance that anyone would be looking this direction at this time of the night, and I doubt that they could've actually seen much even if they were, but the thought of it gave me an unexpected thrill. I still needed to pee so I made my way behind the shed and pulled down my panties. I felt a little naughty with my bare ass hanging out in the breeze and after I'd finished I impulsively pulled them off. I'm so bad, I giggled. I know it sounds pretty lame but I'd never done anything even remotely like this before in my life.
You see, up until I was about sixteen I'd always been small for my age and a bit, um...underdeveloped. To say that I had some body issues would be a huge understatement. I hated my body and it didn't help matters when my younger sister developed a nice set of boobs by the time she was thirteen. I was the object of a lot of teasing at school and, being naturally introverted anyway, I guess I withdrew even further into myself.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I had what I guess you could call a "growth spurt." Not only did I grow by almost three inches in the course of just a few months but my chest went from almost ironing board flat to a B cup. I know that's nothing spectacular but I was exhilarated, and my breasts fit my lithe body rather nicely. I couldn't stop staring at my changing body in the mirror and, for the first time, I saw a young woman staring back rather than a little girl. Mom called me a late bloomer and I'd hoped that this growth spurt would last for at least one more cup size, but then it seemed to stop as quickly as it started. Still, when I returned to school from summer break I couldn't help but notice that I was getting stares from the guys for the first time in my life even though I was still too shy to wear anything more revealing than a t-shirt and blue jeans.
I guess the reason I'm telling you all of this is to explain that even after having just turned eighteen, I was still a shy, naïve country girl who'd only just begun exploring her sexuality. Maybe my lack of experience helps to explain why what was about to happen was such an electrifying jolt to my system. I'd never experienced anything like this before in my life so I really had nothing to compare it to.
So that's who I was when I found myself holding my bunched up panties in my hand and giggling like an idiot as I peeked around the corner of the shed. My house was pitch dark and none of the bedrooms faced the backyard so there was no danger of my family seeing me without walking out of the back door. Feeling very daring I slowly crept bottomless toward my tent and crawled inside.
It was still only about three a.m. and as I lay there on my sleeping bag I felt the unmistakable feelings of excitement and arousal washing over me. Wow! I'd never felt anything like that before in my life and I knew I had to go back outside and experience it again. I crawled out of the tent leaving my panties behind but still wearing the tank top. I sat just outside my tent for a few minutes, my senses attuned to everything around me as I tried to work up the courage to take the next step. I finally managed to do it and peeled off my tank top and threw it into the tent. Oh my God, I thought, I'm naked outside!
I looked down at my tits and my pussy knowing that I was out where someone might actually see them. What would that be like? Of course there was virtually no chance of that happening, hidden where I was behind my tent in my backyard in the middle of the night. Still, even the remote possibility of it excited me more than I ever could have imagined. I don't know how long I sat out there that night but after I finally crawled back inside and attempted to go to sleep I just knew I had to do this again!
The next night I could barely wait for bedtime and after crawling into my sleeping bag I slept fitfully waiting for the early morning hours before daring to try it again. As I was lying there one thought kept running through my head: I wonder how far I can get from my clothes? Little did I know this would be a challenge I'd keep giving myself for years to come.
When the time finally came I crawled naked out of my tent and sat for a few minutes in the same spot as the night before. I surveyed my surroundings and tried to work up the courage to leave what was already becoming my comfort zone. It took a few minutes of an internal pep talk before I was able to stand up and take a few tentative steps away from my tent. I walked around slowly, stopping every few steps to look around and listen intently for the slightest noise that might reveal an unexpected presence. After awhile I began imagining that I was actually out in the middle of town in broad daylight with dozens of shocked people staring at every inch of my nude body. Just the thought of it sent send an intense wave of arousal through my body!
For the next few nights I repeated the same pattern: I'd get up in the middle of the night and make nude explorations around my backyard, becoming a little bit bolder each time. Before long, though, I realized that I'd have to expand my boundaries if I wanted to test myself and see how far I could get from my clothes. I mean, there's only so far I could go in my backyard, right?
I wandered over to the edge of the large field next to my house and stared across it at our closest neighbor's house. I didn't really know the people living there very well but I imagined them looking out their window at me as I stood naked in the moonlight. In reality it was much too far away for them to see anything even if they actually had been looking but it still gave me a little thrill anyway. I took a few tentative steps into the field but quickly returned back to the lawn. The field was overgrown with weeds, tall grass, and sharp rocks and it wouldn't be a good idea to try to cross it without shoes. I can't explain why but somehow the thought of putting on shoes seemed like cheating to me. On top of that, my parents' and my sister's bedrooms faced this field so there was always a slim chance that one of them might be looking out a window if I tried to cross it.
Since the field wasn't really a good option I turned and looked in the other direction toward the park. Across the street I saw three RVs and two trailers camped in the RV area and I'd have to pass by them to get to the park. Once there, well, who knows who might be in the park? And once I got past the park the entire town laid beyond. If I really wanted to challenge myself I knew that was the direction I needed to go. But I couldn't really go that way could I? It was much too risky and I knew I wasn't ready and might never be ready to do that.
So that's when I found myself peering around the side of the house at our front yard. It was a very large front yard (which made mowing it a pain) and was much more exposed than the backyard. In the middle of it was a large old oak tree and to the right was our unattached garage. It was a cloudless night with a nearly a full moon so it was awfully bright out there. I decided to set a goal...I would make it to the oak tree and back. The tree stood about thirty feet away and I sprinted to it and touched it and then ran back to the relative protection of the side of the house. I looked around for any sign that someone might have just witnessed a naked girl running through her front yard, but I heard and saw nothing. So I went to the tree a second time, this time forcing myself to walk as slowly as I dared. When I reached it I stood in an area shaded from the moonlight and made myself stay there, although my instincts were screaming for me to run back to what I now considered the safety of the backyard. I was almost trembling but somehow I managed to force myself to stay and after a couple of minutes I began calming down.
Ok, Melissa, your next goal is the garage and back, I said to myself. So, after a quick pep talk, I walked over and touched the garage and then scampered back to the tree. I know all of this must sound awfully tame to you but these baby steps allowed me to slowly but surely expand my boundaries. For the next several nights I continued this process until I could walk naked around my front yard without hesitation. By now I had explored virtually every square inch of our property which meant only one thing: my boundaries were going to have to expand past our property line.
The next night I sat naked next to our oak tree and stared at my next goal. Beyond the edge of our front yard was a narrow road that wound past our house and the city park and just beyond the road was a small creek. My plan tonight was to cross the road and dip my toes into the creek. It really wasn't very far away but it still required crossing a psychological barrier. It just seemed naughtier to be naked on public property rather than in my own yard and I'd been excited all day by the prospect of it. There was also more to it than that, though. I sensed that by passing beyond the edge of my property I was opening up a whole world of possibilities – in this town and beyond – where I might get naked if I had the courage. The thought of it was both intoxicating and terrifying and I think that might have been the moment when I realized that my new addiction could easily get out of control if I wasn't careful.
Leaving my property naked didn't just involve crossing psychological barriers, though. There were very real risks involved and those risks increased with each step I took away from my home and my clothes. I may have lived in a sleepy little town (we used to joke that it closed at nine o'clock each night) but there's never any guarantee that there won't be someone out wandering around, even in the middle of the night. I won't say that I knew everyone in town, or that everyone knew me, but the odds were pretty good that if I was caught it would be by someone who recognized me. That's one of the paradoxes of living in a very small town; you are far less anonymous than when surrounded by people in a larger city.
It took me a few minutes to work up my nerve before I finally stood up and walked to the edge of the front lawn. I looked around and then took a long, deep breath before scampering across the road and down the small embankment to the creek below. I found a grassy spot to sit and stuck my toes into the creek.
I don't know if it was the chill of the cold water or the situation I was in but a shudder rippled through my body. The moon above bathed my bare skin in an incandescent light and I felt more vulnerable and exposed than I ever had before. Almost involuntarily my left hand began caressing my right breast as my right hand moved down my stomach and then into the moistness between my legs.
I closed my eyes and imagined that the moon was a single spotlight illuminating my nude body for an appreciative audience. I pictured myself as a star on a stage, baring everything to hundreds of hungry eyes in the darkness. I wanted to shock and awe them; to be seen and desired by them. I wanted to be at the very center of my small corner of the universe for once in my life.
Seconds later I came so hard I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. And just seconds after that I heard the unmistakable rumble of a large truck in the distance.
I guess my orgasm had temporarily drained my fear and restraint and in the afterglow I felt no need to run or hide. Instead, I stood up and waded across the small creek to the other side and then up the embankment to the guardrail at the top. I crouched behind it and watched the headlights coming toward me in the distance.
Even though my town was very boring, one thing it did feature was a fairly busy highway that ran right through the middle of it. The Canadian border was about ninety miles away and this road served as one of the primary conduits for travelers and trucks heading back and forth between the US-Canadian border in this part of the state. That's why the park next to my house usually had trailers and RV's parking overnight during the summer; it served as a convenient waypoint for travelers. The traffic usually died down to almost nothing at night but the occasional truck would pass through town, even in the early morning hours.
My front yard wasn't easily visible from a speeding vehicle on the highway which is why I hadn't been overly concerned about it while making my nude strolls, but now I found myself hidden behind the guardrail as a large eighteen-wheel semi rumbled toward me. It had slowed down while passing through town but now it started picking up speed as it closed in on my hiding spot. Without even thinking I stood up, stepped over the rail and began waving at the truck! Any doubts about whether I'd been seen or not were answered by a thunderous blast from the truck horn which pierced the still night and jolted me back to reality. What the hell was I doing? I was worried for a minute that the truck might pull over and stop but it kept right on rolling out of town. Even worse I was afraid that the horn might draw the attention of anyone who might be around (or my parents!). Without giving any thought to stealth or caution now I stepped back over the guard rail, ran down the embankment, splashed across the creek, and then sprinted through my yard to the back of the house and the safety of my tent. As I lay breathlessly on my sleeping bag my mind was running a million miles an hour. A stranger had seen me naked!
I knew immediately that I liked it and wanted it to happen again.
My experience flashing the truck driver had allowed me to burst through yet another psychological barrier and the nature of my game began to change after that. It had taken a lot of baby steps to get to that point but then I'd suddenly, and without warning, taken a giant leap. I'd learned a lesson that I'd apply later to other aspects of my life: slow, steady, incremental progress toward a goal will often lead to a sudden breakthrough. Half the battle in life is just showing up and I'd shown up naked each and every night for the past couple of weeks and was now capable of things that I couldn't have imagined before.
I became more brazen and bold in my nude explorations, no longer totally petrified about being seen. Of course there's a big difference between being seen by some anonymous trucker and being caught by a family friend or someone who recognized me. I still wanted to avoid those encounters but, like I said, the eighteen year-old mind doesn't always fully grasp the meaning of risk. I began to take more and more of them with each successive outing.