It started with a dare. I had been corresponding with a woman in London by email. We had hooked up when she sent me feedback about one of my stories online, and we began teasing and flirting. She described her sex life as vanilla, but when she learned of my exhibitionist tendencies she didn’t hesitate to send me a dare:
“Now I’d like you to grab a lipstick and do this…
“Wear a white top that is transparent. I’m sure you have something like that. Go out somewhere public like that, but please, no bra. I want people to see your gorgeous breasts and be turned on by them. Sit down somewhere where there are at least three other people. Could be a cafe, could be a mall, wherever. Start caressing your breasts through your blouse and as you do, spare a thought for Vanilla’s perky nipples and how I wish I could touch you. Keep fondling your breasts, for at least fifteen minutes, enjoying the firmness and softness, feeling your nipples get hard. I want the other people to notice. Feel their eyes on you.
“Now Susan, take out your lipstick. I hope you remembered it? Bend forward a little, so everyone can see your breasts and put on the lipstick. Paint your lovely lips and put on a show for them. I dare you to bare your right breast, get it out for them to see and start sensually rubbing lipstick over your nipple. If you dare, do the same with your left nipple.
“Then, and only then, can you get up and leave. Go home and masturbate for me.” I thought about it for a while – maybe ten minutes in all. And then I accepted the dare.
I wrote back, “Oh dear. Did I tell you that I am a sexual submissive? Or did you just guess? I cannot resist your order; it is right up my exhibitionist alley, which is where I may end up after I do what you told me to. I love being forced to show off my body in public. And today is a perfect day and place. I am visiting San Antonio, Texas, and know almost no one, just the friend I stopped here to visit. I think I know exactly where to carry out your orders: A nice, small restaurant in a medium sized mall near here. I ate there a couple of days ago with my friend.
“It is not too brightly lit inside and has some wrought iron tables and chairs outside in the shade. Not sure yet where to sit, but know I can get a spot inside that will let me limit my exposure to just a few people. I want maybe two couples and at least one lone woman. If I am really, really lucky maybe I can get her to hit on me. And there is a Borders book store just across the street where I can walk around close to people of all ages and sexes to show off my nearly bare tits. It is filled with racks of books and magazines and places to sit and read, plus a small cafe for coffee and tea and such.”
Preparation was half the fun, along with the anticipation. I wore a very fine-mesh, thin, white, sleeveless top, one designed to be worn over a bra or camisole. It was snug enough to follow the shape of my unsupported breasts, and sheer enough for my nipples to be seen easily; their color supplemented their boldness to show off. They were hard as little nuts all the time and tented the material of my top.
With it I wore a short, black, wraparound skirt. I like that one because the wrap doesn’t overlap very far; it lets my thigh show when I sit and cross my legs, which I did with regularity. Since the only things on my body were the skirt and top, I felt quite exposed. And I drew a whole lot of looks. From some matrons, disapproval, from most everyone else surprise and pleasure. It is funny, but men seem almost too embarrassed to look directly at a half naked girl; they use quick side looks. Women are less circumspect, especially younger ones and teens. They seemed to enjoy my look a lot. Many of the youngest were not far off my own look, so I was able to do some pleasant ogling of my own, but I was the only one playing with myself.
Overall, I felt almost naked. Oh, I also wore a white sun visor, dark sun glasses, and sexy sandals – the kind with straps that wrap around your ankle and hint at bondage. I was both embarrassed and excited. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but my pussy leaked continuously. I decided to just let my juice flow and enjoy the feel of it running down my thighs or into the crack of my ass. Good that my skirt was black.
I started out by roaming the book racks in Borders for about ten minutes, bought a paper, and then I walked across the street to the cafe. I stayed inside for about five minutes over a coffee, but then took it outside to a table on the open patio. There were six people scattered about me (I chose to sit with my back to the building), but there was an almost steady stream of mall walkers passing by on the sidewalk in front of the tables.
I pretended to read my paper but used the sun glasses to look about surreptitiously. As though not aware of it, I began to caress my breast with my free hand, homing in on the nipple and making it even harder. I noticed one woman prod her seat mate, a man, and nod toward me. He looked and then looked away, and then looked some more. I chose then to tweak my nipple with thumb and forefinger. It felt good and I took a deep breath and arched my back in pleasure. The man whispered something to the woman and she laughed. I pretended to look up at the sound and stared at them for a moment. Then I glanced down obviously at my hand on my tit, looked back up to them, and smiled.
The man looked startled and glanced away; the woman smiled back at me broadly. She, I think, had figured out what I was doing. They stayed in place until I left a while later.
More people seemed to be noticing me and I got bolder with my caresses, massaging myself openly, lifting my breast up and letting it settle again. My fingers worked my nipple more openly. Then I switched to my other hand and other breast, no longer pretending to read. When I put the paper down both hands were free to touch myself and I put them to work. Several people had stopped walking and lingered just a bit away, trying to not be obvious. (more…)
