Young Exhibitionist

Discovering Exhibitionism and a lot more at 18.

I was eighteen, a curvy brunette with long, straight brown hair, and big, innocent blue eyes. Fresh out of high school, I was also excited about spending the summer with my boyfriend before going to university. Ben was older than me at twenty-one, my first love and first real boyfriend.

He was tall, slim, and blonde, with mischievous hazel-green eyes. He was kind and sweet, someone I trusted, and he absolutely lusted after my body, which helped build my confidence. Because at 5’6”, full and curvy, with wide hips, thick thighs, and big boobs, I suffered a lot with body image issues.

It was one of those perfect midweek summer afternoons, and Ben wanted to go for drive, find somewhere quiet and private so we could “christen” the new car his parents had bought him for passing his test and turning 21.

Giggling, I left my panties at home and climbed into his car, wearing white plimsolls on my feet and a light, floaty, yellow floral sundress. It had thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a fitted bodice that flowed into a flared skirt, hemming mid-thigh and swishing around my chunky thighs.

I looked voluptuously casual and cute, my hair falling past my shoulders, minimal makeup, and large, gold-hooped earrings. But I did feel naughty without any panties on. I was ok without a bra because the fitted bodice was designed to hold my bust firmly.

We drove for ages with Ben’s hand resting high on my leg. By the time we found somewhere, a hidden lay-by along a country road that connected two villages, my heart started pounding. It was completely empty, so Ben killed the engine and leaned over.

He cupped my face, kissing me deep and slow, the kind of kiss that made me wet. His hand slid straight under the hem of my dress, finding me already slick and smooth. I whimpered into his mouth as his fingers teased my plump, shaven mound, circling my clit slowly.

“Are you sure we’ll be ok here?” I breathed, looking around the empty area, fearing someone might catch us.

“Relax, Anna. There’s nobody around,” he whispered in a husky voice.

“But what if…” I panted, soaking wet as he slid a finger inside me, thrusting slowly. “Oh yes,” I moaned, parting my thighs further. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“We’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure me. “Just relax and let me make you come. I’ll keep a look out in case anyone does show up. Damn, your gagging for it.”

“Don’t say that.” I blushed, turning my head towards the window, feeling slightly embarrassed at how wet I was, but needing him to carry on because he was right. Driving around without any panties on had been exhilarating.

Then somebody did show up. On a damn bicycle, looking like he was taking a break from training for the Tour De France. He rode into the lay-by, slowing down, then stopped close to the car for a drink. My eyes flew open. Even with all the gear on, I could see he was late-thirties to early-forties.

He glanced at us nonchalantly, but then did a sharp, double take when he saw our compromising position. Ben hadn’t stopped, and although I had clamped my thighs together, my dress was still high up my thighs, and his finger was still moving inside me.

“He’s looking at you, baby. You want me to stop?” my boyfriend whispered in a voice that told me he was excited.

I looked straight at the stranger with my heart and mind racing. Part of me was terrified, proper, gut-churning fear. The other part… God, the other part was suddenly so turned on I could barely breathe, let alone answer him.

As the man put his drink bottle away, Ben groaned against my neck and my legs relaxed. I had no idea what had come over me, or what enabled me to let my boyfriend keep going while a stranger watched, but something did.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Ben breathed into my ear. “I wanna show him your big, sexy tits.” With his free hand, he pushed one dress strap down my shoulder then pulled the other.

“Ben…” I gasped, sensing I was about to explode in orgasm on the passenger seat, in clear view of the cyclist.

“Shhhh,” my boyfriend replied as the thin fabric slipped easily, exposing my heavy breasts and taut, sensitive nipples. “Oh fuck, Anna. Yes, baby.”

“Oh God, I’m gonna come,” I half panicked as the man climbed off his bicycle and Ben slid his finger deeper.

“I think I’m gonna cum in my pants too,” he chuckled, thrusting urgently.

I was completely exposed from the waist up, dress bunched around my middle, legs parted just enough for Ben’s hand to keep working between my thighs. The man’s eyes widened as he walked towards the car, wheeling his bicycle until he was only a few feet away from my already open window.

I watched him the whole time, biting my lip hard. My cheeks were on fire. I wasn’t the kind of girl to do things like this, but the way he was staring at my bare breasts, at what my boyfriend was doing to me, sent a rush of adrenaline through my body that I’d never felt before. Nervousness and arousal twisted together so tight, I felt I couldn’t stop until I had climaxed.

“Ben…” I gasped again.

“Relax… this is so fucking hot. I’ve never known you to get this excited.”

The man slowly lowered his bicycle to the ground then quietly slipped a gloved hand down the front of his tight black, cycling shorts. He was so lean, but nothing about him aroused me except for his presence. This wasn’t in the script, but he was touching himself.

“How are you both doing in there?” He spoke in a mature voice, like a teacher or my dad would. I gripped the seat and the passenger door handle, shut my eyes and panted in bewilderment.

“We’re good, how about you?” Ben’s voice croaked.

“I’m very good,” I heard the man reply in a cautious voice. I opened my eyes and gasped right at him. He kept his helmet on but took his cock out, thick and heavy, already rock-hard. He stroked it once, twice, eyes locked on my breasts as Ben rubbed my clit.

“Let him touch you, Anna. Let him feel your tits as we both stroke off. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” my boyfriends said, his voice low but erratic in my ear.

I didn’t say yes. I couldn’t. I just let out this tiny, nervous giggle and bit my lip again. It was insane, yet my eyes flicked between the stranger and my boyfriend while my hips rocked against his hand. The man suddenly leaned in through the open window.

“You’re definitely safe,” he said, careful and respectful. “Is it okay if I touch you?” I looked at Ben, unable to agree or disagree. I heard gloves being taken off, tucked into shorts, felt my heart about to rip through my chest, then a warm, calloused, and unfamiliar hand.

“Huuuuu!” I sucked in sharply, and my body tensed back against the seat.

“Mmm, you’re a sweet little thing aren’t you?” The stranger cupped my right breast with a bare hand and squeezed softly, lifting my heavy flesh while he continued to stroke his cock.

“Oh God,” I gasped, but then I started laughing shyly with a hand over my eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

They both laughed with me, but then the stranger started squeezing more firmly, thumbing my nipple, and even tweaking it. Ben sat back, breathing heavily as he freed and stroked his cock while watching another man grope his girlfriend.

“Do you guys do this often? You look young… not that I’m complaining,” the stranger chuckled, cupping my other breast, feeling its equally heavy weight as his thumb brushed over my nipple, making me gasp and instinctively spread my legs as he took his time.

“No, we don’t,” Ben replied as if her answering a normal question.

“Same here,” the stranger said, rolling my nipples between his fingers, palming the soft underside of each tit while Ben shamelessly masturbated.

Meanwhile, I was trembling on the cusp of passing out. The stranger slid his hand lower, over my plush belly, down between my legs, and began to rub my clit tentatively. We both groaned. I couldn’t help but open my legs wider for him as I looked at my boyfriend, who was stroking slowly.

“Oh, you have a lovely, bald, pussy,” the stranger rasped.

“The best,” Ben grinned, leaning over to kiss me.

As he shoved his tongue down my throat and grabbed a breast, the stranger grabbed my other breast and shoved two, thick fingers inside me. I whimpered through the kiss, sensory overload that was overwhelming me.

“Oh, yeah, so fucking tight,” the stranger growled, fingering me lovelessly through the window of my boyfriends car. I felt so dirty and wanton, needing to orgasm badly.

“You gonna come, baby?” Ben smirked, caressing my tit. “Go on, come for us.”

“Don’t be shy,” the stranger encouraged, squeezing my other tit harder as he thrusted in and out fast.

“Oh! Ben! Oh my, God! Yes! Oh, Yes!” I moaned, loud and helpless, and that was it. The orgasm hit me so hard my back arched off the seat, breasts being squeezed, thighs shaking. I came with his fingers buried inside me and my boyfriend watching like it was all ok.

Once I’d finished, left dazed but still horny, the man groaned, pulled his hand back, and offered his cock through the window, glistening at the tip. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned forward, wrapped my lips around him, and took him into my mouth. He tasted faintly salty and sweaty, but it only made everything feel dirtier and more real.

“Holy shit, Anna!” Ben exclaimed.

“Oh yes,” the man hissed. “Suck it, Anna. I’m already close.”

I didn’t care that he knew my name. I needed to come again. I rubbed my clit myself and sucked him eagerly, emitting little noises around his shaft while Ben reached over and played with my tits. The man’s hand rested lightly on my hair, not pushing, just guiding gently as he grew nearer.

He then suddenly pulled out and stroked himself urgently, ejaculating thick, hot ropes across my breasts and the front of my yellow floral dress, splattering my skin and the thin fabric. It dripped down my cleavage, soaking into the dress as I rubbed to another orgasm, panting and covered in cum.

The second the man stepped back, the three of us laughed, a stunned, giddy, shocked laughter. He put his softening cock away, thanked us both, then got on his bicycle and rode off. Ben and I looked at each other, laughing and buzzing from the raw excitement.

But then it hit me. “I’ve got nothing to clean up with,” I fretted.

“Guess you’re riding home like that, then,” Ben simply laughed.

It was gross but I had no choice. I fixed my dress and endured the drive straight back to my parents’ house. They were out for the day too. But the second we were inside, Ben had me bent over the sofa, dress still on, fucking me hard and deep, the fabric riding up around my waist, my plimsolls squeaking on the hard floor.

I came again, louder this time, letting myself be as loud as I wanted in the house. After I finally peeled the sticky dress off, I stood under the shower, hot water running over my skin, washing away the evidence of the afternoon. But I couldn’t wash away the memory.

Alone, I spread my legs and rubbed my clit once more, remembering how easy I’d allowed myself to be led astray, and how much I’d actually enjoyed it. Something had woken up inside me. I had discovered I loved being watched, groped by a stranger, used as an object, and wondered if I’d do it again.