She Wore It Well - A Repriseby24UKBlonde©
My friend Lit ID manoshands may recognise this; I hope all will enjoy it.
It was not quite as revealing a leg crossing as the infamous one by Sharon Stone, but I was as equally bare under the ridiculously short, blue denim skirt as she had been in the film Basic Instinct. I was not, however, being questioned by the police as she was, but I had crossed and uncrossed my legs for the same reason the sexual goddess had – I like people looking at me. Yes I am an exhibitionist.
I was on the London Underground, the Piccadilly line actually, on my way to Heathrow to board a plane to New York. DD my forty-five year old, long-term, married lover was on a short lecture tour in Washington, New York and Boston. He is a lecturer in English at London University, but had been at Bristol, which was where I had seduced him when I was a student there, some four years ago. His wife, the titless bitch as we call her, naturally did not want to go with him and he had managed to fiddle me the business class ticket she would have used. I was on my way.
If the train ride to Heathrow was exciting me, I was already beginning to feel blown away by the prospect of the thrills that I would get from seven hours in Virgin Upper class.
I live to the east of London and Heathrow is due west so the tube ride is over an hour. In rush hour it can be hell with the sick perverts pressing their bellies up against your bum and touching your leg with their hands, accidentally of course. Out of rush hour as this was, it can be quite pleasant. The carriages are cool and not too far out of central London it runs overground. The seating is along the sides of the carriages with probably a dozen or so seats either side. When I am able to, I take a seat in the middle so that all twelve occupants of the other side will be looking at me. Today, as we whizzed through west London into the depressing Middlesex suburbs stopping every five minutes or so I had a changing audience as passengers got on and alighted, although one couple, probably in their forties sat opposite me all the way. She showed no interest in my legs and he pretended not to, but I caught him looking several times.
I was wearing a white blouse that had buttons all the way up the front. The top three and the bottom two were undone meaning that only the middle two, the ones between my boobs were done up. I was not wearing a bra, but with my little 33 b cup tits that was no big deal. They do not wobble and jiggle too much, just enough to show interested parties that I probably am braless. The skirt was tiny. It was a fashionably tatty with a frayed hem and a brass, very on show zip that came down my tummy for a few inches. There was also a brass button at the top of the zip. The hem was only six inches or so down from my pubes at the front and my bum at the back. Obviously, any sort of bending over was out of the question, that is unless I was confident of my audience.
My nicely tanned legs were bare and I was wearing mid-height strappy heels. Although I say it myself, my legs are pretty good and do, as my grandma might have said 'go right up to my bum.'
I had several real oglers. I liked that. Two were guys in their late twenties or early thirties who leered at me at the same time from either end of the row of seats. Even though I liked their interest, they were a bit too young to give me the buzz I enjoy and it was difficult 'entertaining' both of them due to their seating positions. After a while, they left and a guy, probably in his late forties got on. He went to turn left as he got into the carriage, but then seeing my legs he turned right and sat opposite me. He stared at my knees and seemed to slip down a little in his seat, probably trying to see up my skirt. I wanted him to look up there, but in the still quite crowded train I couldn't be too overt with that. However, I did give him a bit of a show by stretching my legs out, then pulling my feet back, sitting up a bit and shrugging the skirt down and then the old favourite the Sharon leg cross. As I did that, our eyes met. He smiled, but I did not acknowledge him. Shortly after he got up and just before walking to the door he bent over and whispered.
"Thanks, that was lovely."
Pulling my case on wheels I got through the check in formalities quickly and easily and was soon in the relative luxury of the Virgin Upper Class lounge. It was occupied mainly by business men although there were a couple of other women I was by far the youngest. As usually happens when men go away on business they become predators and are after whatever they can get by way of women. To have a scantily clad, blue eyed, blonde haired bimbo with bare legs up to her armpits must have been marvellous for them. I didn't need to put on a show for whenever I moved to get a drink or a newspaper and wherever I was, there were at least a dozen pairs of eyes on me. Wonderful. At one stage when there was only a couple of guys around I was tempted to bend over to get something from my case. I know that would have given them good look at my bare bum, but I chickened out.
The flight was great. The upper class cabin was not even half-full, but they were all men, yet another ready and waiting audience. But it was not them that made the trip great, it was the cabin crew. The head honcho was a great looking guy who was as gay as they come and really very cheeky. He made comments on my legs before we had even taken off and ogled my tits down my blouse as he served me champagne. After lunch, we chatted quite a bit and one of the female cabin crew, Megan, joined in.
She was a very pretty, dark haired girl, probably in her early thirties. With the cabin lights dimmed for the film I stood up next to her, near the toilets. I watched as she did a few service tours round the cabin. I am sure that the Virgin red skirt she was wearing was not regulation. It seemed shorter than some of the others so when I went on a walkabout in economy I checked out the other girls. Some had hems just on the knee and a few had them four inches or so above the knee like Megan's. Although the length, or lack of it on Megan's skirt was impressive that was not the dominating feature for me. She had fabulous legs that went even more right up to her armpits than mine, but they also were not what had taken my fancy. It was not even the outline of thighs under the thin skirt that was getting to me. It was her bum. If her skirt was not regulation length then the tightness of the fucking thing across her ass was totally unregulated; it was like a second skin and I knew immediately that she was either, wearing the flimsiest of thongs or she was, like me commando. I could hardly take my eyes off her as I confirmed to myself once again that I was not only an exhibitionist, but also a voyeur. I made a mental to ask someone about that.
I read a novel once by the late ex model Pat Booth who sadly died of cancer at a relatively early age. It was called Big Apple I think.
As I stood near to the loo and watched Megan serving the leching customers so my mind went to a scene in that novel. As it did, I visualised me saying to her.
"You go into the rest room, I will be there soon."
In the novel the girl that suggests that to the stewardess makes her wait longer than she should to build the tension in the other girl. Then just as the stew, Megan, was beginning to think the younger woman, me, was not going through with it there's a knock on the door. She opens the door and the younger woman, me, slips inside. Immediately they kiss and my, the younger woman's hands go straight to Megan's, the stewardesses, bum. They fondle, stroke and caress as the two women, Megan and me kiss. I pull her skirt up to past mid-thigh. She stops me, but I insist and ease it all the way up. I move backwards and look down. She's wearing lacy top hold ups and as I had thought nothing else. And to top it all she has shaved it. I get Megan up onto the ledge beside the sink, pull her legs open and kneeling on the lid on the toilet I bend forward and suck her. It didn't take long to make her cum.
DD was not due to arrive in New York until later that evening. 'Around ten and be ready for me' he had instructed me the night before I left for New York.
I had purposefully chosen a flight that went into Newark for I had a cunning plan.
I got through immigration and customs remarkably quickly, which is another reason for avoiding JFK. I collected my Avis car and punched Middleton Township NJ into the satnav that I had ordered, for like most women and I imagine all blondes I cannot read maps. I was quickly and excitingly on my way to Gunnison Beach. I had read about this on the net. Although New Jersey does not permit nudity on its State beaches, as Gunnison, an ex fort to guard New York harbour, god knows from who, is federal land clothes are, as the notices state optional.
Other than in my garden and once in Spain in a deserted area I have not been able to be totally naked, amongst other people who will look at me. When DD had invited me to New York I saw that was my chance. I stopped at the first supermarket I came to outsider Newark and bought a beach bag, some bottled water, a sandwich and a large bathing towel. I went to the rest room and slipped into a white bikini the panties of which had a tie on either side. I had chosen that as it is far easier to remove than shoving them down your legs and off your feet. I asked the check out lady the way to Gunnison Beach and she gave me a stern look.
"You sure you want Gunnison honey?"
"Yes ma'am I am" I replied feeling a little embarrassed at the way she looked at me. Despite her evident disdain for the place, she gave me the necessary directions and twenty minutes or so later I pulled into the car park.
I was nervous as I walked past the sign that explains that 'nudity may be encountered past this point.' That made my heart beat faster. That was not just at the prospect of flashing myself to other people, but also at the thought of what I would see. Again I mulled over the exhibitionist/voyeur conflict. I wondered whether the motivations, or whatever they were, that made me want to expose myself sexually to others were the same as those that made me interested in seeing others. I giggled as I walked past the sign as I thought to myself that both exhibitionism and voyeurism were really quite bisexual, well to me they were, as I was as interested in seeing and being seen by women as I was by men.
As I wandered onto the quite crowded beach, I felt like Dracula would have done in a blood bank. There were nude bodies everywhere, walking, sitting, lying, playing ball and throwing frisbees. Being mid-afternoon it was hot and there were lots of people standing, lying, sitting and swimming in the sea. Many were in pairs, some in groups, but most seemed to be loners like me. As I walked slowly across the beach as surreptitiously as possible ogling the crowd my mind began so swim with pleasure. I saw the firmness of men's bums as they moved their cocks swinging and looking so tempting. I noticed one or two that looked semi-hard and wondered just how far things went on this amazing beach. As much as I enjoyed the male visions, the female ones came very close. Swinging breasts, sagging breasts, pert breasts, big and small breasts were everywhere. I saw more nipples in that few minutes walk than I had probably seen in my life to date and some were interestingly hardened. Was it my imagination, or hope maybe, that the hardness of nipples correlated locationwise with the firming up of some dicks?
I could feel hundreds of eyes on me as I passed by the sun bathers. It was almost as if they were sizing me up and wondering what was under my blouse and silly, little skirt. It was almost as if I was being ogled at by a multitude of voyeurs. The thought of undressing to full nakedness in front of such an avid and knowledgeable audience thrilled me so much I could have made myself cum so easily right there and then.
The busiest area was near the café so I avoided that and strolled looking as confident as I could, although my entire body was seeming to be shaking with nerves. I saw a gap. It was in the middle two couples on one side, another couple a few metres away and a single guy making up an exciting triangle of nakedness. It seemed perfect for what I wanted; people to flash to, but not get too involved with, after all I would be with my lover in a few hours.
I went to the middle of that triangle and stopped. I looked at the three couples and received nods and smiles and nice leers from the men and one of the women, a fiftyish blonde with big, saggy tits, but gorgeous legs. I looked at the single guy last and we both nodded, he smiled, but I did not, I was too nervous, both at simply being there and what I was about to do.
Lying my towel down about eight feet or so from the couples and the single guy with whom I again made eye contact, I put my bag on the towel. Standing and looking around I posed for a moment or two soaking in the sensations of having so many people generally and the single guy particularly looking at me. It was an awesome feeling.
With fumbling fingers, I opened the buttons on the blouse and slowly removed it. I folded it and, bending at the waist knowing full well that would afford some watchers a clear view up my skirt, momentarily wishing that I had done that when I had the chance in the business class lounge at Heathrow for then I was naked under it. Straightening up again I undid the brass button on the skirt and eased the zip down. Opening up the front of it and holding onto the waistband I pushed it down my legs and stepped out of it. Another ninety degree bend at the waist and the skirt joined my top in my recently acquired beach bag. Looking around and at first totally ignoring you, I was pleased to see so many people looking at me in the brief, white bikini, which intentionally did not hide much of my body that was tingling with anticipation.
Suddenly I looked at the single guy and held his gaze. I was pleased to see it was roaming up and down my body.
"Lovely weather" I said.
"Yes beautiful" he agreed.
We talked about the traffic, but I did not mention that I had just flown in from the UK. He seemed a nice enough guy to share a nude beach with I said to myself almost giggling. I guessed that he was probably a little older than DD's forty-four, but no more than fifty. He had gingerish, greying, quite long hair and grey 'stylish stubble' on his face and round his lips; he looked cool, a bit of a hippy I thought. About six feet and well-built he was reasonably, but not overly muscular and had a good physique with little or no excess flab that I could see and he was well hung.
"I'm here on a short vacation" I said, reaching behind my back.
"Staying in New York?" He asked as I, as casually as I could undid my bra and slid it off.
I caught his eye as he looked at my breasts. He gave a slight nod as if to say 'nice' and watched, seemingly transfixed as I undid the ties on either side of the panties. Opening my legs a little way I pulled the bikini panties through them and off and dropped them in the bag. Now naked in front of so many people I felt light-headed as I looked around. I was rather surprised at first that not too many people seemed that concerned at what I felt was my superflash, but then of course there was bareness and flashing everywhere. Despite that, I felt fantastic as I sat down on my towel on started to apply my sun cream.
"You have missed a bit" he suddenly said making me jump.
"Yes on your back."
"Oh that's fortunate that it wasn't somewhere er, um more sensitive" I said.
He smiled. "I don't know."
We both laughed. "Would you help me then please?" I asked.
"Sure" he said getting up and walking over to me seemingly totally oblivious to his nudity.
That made me wonder whether he was at the beach as a poser or a looker. However, that did not really matter for as I was beginning to conclude they were intrinsically linked and I, certainly, was there as both.
The feel of his hands on my back gently smoothing the cream into my skin was as sensual an experience as I could remember. I knew that it was a combination of the build-up to it, the location, the audience and our mutual nudity as much as the skill with which he touched me. That said, as he took what seemed ages to apply the screen we were lovers. Ok we were odd lovers making an odd type of love and having an odd type of sex, but nonetheless that stranger became my lover.
Eventually, after we finished our bout of odd lovemaking he returned to his towel and I laid on my front. As he had walked the few feet back his towel my heart started to pound harder when I saw that he was hardening.
I read my kindle for a while as he looked at a book. We had no contact other than some sly glances for a while until he turned on his front and I onto my back. I sat up and drew my knees up and saw that his face was pointing straight at me. I knew instinctively what he was hoping to see for it was precisely what I wanted to show to him and any other interested party. Strangely, despite the number of people on the beach, it was as if he and I were moving into our own bubble, making our own type of love completely ignorant of, though appreciating the voyeuristic involvement of the others.
Looking right into the stranger's eyes, then turning away and looking at two guys holding hands. I slightly opened my legs. Not wide or gaping, but enough to show him what we both wanted him to see, my pussy. I felt a stab of acute arousal when I glanced back at him and saw the intent look on his face as he very obviously stared at me. 'He's staring at my cunt' filled my mind, the c word seeming so appropriate for the moment.
I felt a grin forming on my face as I watched him stand up. Although he by no means had a full erection he was certainly hardening and had taken the wise course of making for the water. I watched him swim out a way then turn parallel to the beach and swim away from me. I was tempted to swim myself, but as that would mean reapplying the sun cream, I could not be bothered. Naked, I walked through the throng of people accepting their stares and enjoying mine as I viewed the sights. I was back on my towel when I saw him making his way back to his. I saw a few women and men glancing at him and clearly admiring his body and man's tackle and that, for some daft reason made me feel jealous; 'he was mine to have visual sex with' I was thinking.
He walked straight towards me his nicely shaped cock almost swinging from side to side, if that was possible, in a 'look at me way.' As he passed the couples, groups and individuals most along with me did just that. It really was quite a blast being able to unashamedly and with no guilt or worries look at guys' cocks and bodies.
As he got closer to me, his gaze met mine a few times as I alternated mine between his face and his 'big swinging dick' as I thought of it. He stood by his towel ostensibly, I guessed to let the sun dry him, but deep down I knew he was doing it for the same reason I had when I undressed earlier, to be seen. I could only envy the feelings he was experiencing as people from as close as me to many yards away took in the scene.
Presumably, now dry, he sat and applied more sun cream. I couldn't help saying as he finished.
"You have missed a bit" and offered to return his earlier favour.
Standing up, I applied it from the middle of his back downwards. His body felt good to my fingers. However, I had to restrain myself from turning the application into a caress and from slipping my hands round to his more interesting front. I had to restrict myself to slipping a finger a slight way into the crease of his bum and then giving that a playful smack.