I guess this is what you would call a “Confession” of sorts. Not that I am a Roman Catholic or anything like that. I am a good Church of England girl and I was brought up real strict by my mum who constantly reminded me every school day to wear clean knickers in case I got hit by a truck on the way to school.

Knickers!

Whenever I start to think about knickers or even bras my mind just goes right into the gutter and all I can imagine is being forced to take them off by nasty men who want to get their greedy paws on my virginal goodies. Yes! I am a virgin even though I am almost twenty but that is not my confession of guilt at all. The fact I am a virgin is strictly technical and results from my fear of letting a male put his business in my baby-making factory and me winding up with a pram in the hallway before benefit of spousal joy.

My so-called “fetish” is one that is kind of unique and I don’t know of anyone else who has an obsession of this nature. I am fairly tall for a female and I have the good fortune of having what is described in most circles as a “hot” body. My face is in dire need of a nose-job in my opinion because of my “Roman” nose structure but the remaining features are put together in a pleasing array of feminine appeal that seems to make most men take a second look. I always find that gratifying even if I know I will never see the viewer again or even receive a verbal compliment.

I have followed my mother’s advice on the knickers and have even added my use of various alluring designs in knickers-ware to expand male interest. It was in a well-respected retail store where I first discovered my urge to gratify my fetish. In fact, I believe it all came about completely by accident. Of course, I could just be salving my conscience by accepting the randomness of it all.

The changing room was well-monitored by store staff but there was no control over other customers of the male gender catching a peek at some partially undressed females if the door happened to swing open. It seemed to happen quite often because they did not want any locks or latches on the doors due to pilfering problems and possible abuse of the privacy by a young couple interested in things other than trying on new clothing. I guess I had never really considered any of that when it happened to me and I was caught with my knickers down at my knees and my arms all twisted with difficult buttons. When I saw the little group of males peering intently at my bare snatch, I made a further mistake of turning away and exposing my naked bum to their ogling eyes. The combination of a bare bum and showing off my nicely trimmed vagina forced me into an orgasm of serious magnitude and I had to admit the juices running down the insides of my long, sexy legs were entirely of my guilty making.

Just thinking about was enough to make my pulse race and my heart to beat faster. I wanted to drop my hands and assist the process but it would be entirely out of place for an innocent young girl with nothing to be guilty about at least on the surface. Inside, I was imagining all sorts of erotic scenarios with males mounting me with their shameless cocks and determined behavior. I knew that I was terribly shy but my shyness was further exacerbated by a dreadful liking for taking orders from someone in authority and I reveled in being the brunt of humiliating treatment no matter how degrading.

After that first experience, I tried the similar scenario out in various locations and soon a pattern evolved of not quite innocent exposure, teasing reactions, and ultimate orgasm resulting in satisfactory squirting of my female juices. As my skills improved, I noticed that the orgasms actually got better and that my naughty sphincter would blink a Morse code of depravity that was easily seen when my cheeks were spread open for male viewing. I became aware of the fact that knowledgeable males could speculate on my sins of thought and I found that made me even more ready for release than ever before.

I looked it all up in the library at the University and discovered that I had a form of “Exhibitionistic Nymphomania”. It certainly sounded long enough to be a serious obsession but I was entirely happy with the way it made me feel inside when I had a good session in front of complete strangers.

One young man who asked me on a date to go to a movie was all over me with his sticky fingers all sloppy from candy and popcorn. I put up with it because the movie was about a young woman unable to resist teasing male neighbors by undressing in front of a lamp with the shade not lowered. She got more and more obscene with her exhibitionism until finally she was raped by not only one but a pair of neighbors who told her she was bitch and needed to be “punished” for her sins. It was not a popular movie because very few females would even venture inside the theater but I found it to be fascinating and wondered if the director of thinking of me when he made the film.

That weekend, I looked out across the interior courtyard to the apartments on the other side and saw that there were at least a dozen or so units with residents who were total strangers to me as that side of the complex used an entirely different staircase to enter and exit. The only way you could get from one side of the building to the other was to go up to the roof and walk across to the other side and go down that staircase to visit a unit on that side. It was strange that there were about forty units on one side and forty units on the other side and the two groups seldom if ever talked to each other. In fact, I sort of recognized the other group mostly by their dogs if they had one because it was easier to keep tabs on and Irish setter or a German shepherd than to remember faces that all seemed blurry at a distance. It seemed like an ideal situation for me. My audience would be close, almost captive, and yet we would manage to stay isolated from each other just the way I loved it.

I put out all the lights as soon as it got dark and got my brother’s binoculars from the closet. I had inherited them from him when he got married because his wife hated anything that would remind him of his military days. Then I took up position in my favorite lounge chair just inside the window and started to monitor the units across the way. I started first with the units directly opposite of which there were four. Each pair shared an emergency escape landing and ladder that went all the way from the roof to the basement about five flights below. I had absolutely no idea which apartment corresponded to the windows facing me but it was of little consequence since I had no intention of establishing a relationship with any of the residents. I just identified them to myself as 4a, 4b, 4c, and 4d in order to keep the location fixed in my thinking. I did the same for the floor above using 5 as the common theme and the same for the floor below using 3 as the identifier. All twelve of the units had a clear field of vision into my apartment and I tried to remember if I had been prancing around in the altogether with the lights on recently in the past.

When I saw activity in the windows opposite, I quickly shed all my clothing except for my thong in the dark and sat back down holding the binoculars in one hand and allowing my other hand to trail randomly across my snatch and even back to my tiny little puckered entry.

“4a” had a single male resident who looked to be about mid-thirties and spent most of his time in front of a television set with a can of beer in his hand and his laptop right in front of him. He seemed equally interested in the TV, the beer and the laptop.

“4b” boasted a young couple in their early twenties. The man was dressed only in jockey shorts and the girl had on an apron with no undies at all. It just so happened that the young man was in the process of bending her over the ironing board to insert his longer than normal cock into what I assumed was the back of her vagina but it could have easily been her anus for all I could see from that distance. Of course, I kept my glasses on them and furiously assaulted my twat with all my fingers on the other hand. I am certain that I came long before them and I sat there in the dark breathing hard almost panting and letting my juices run down into the soft leather of the chair. It was totally unexpected and quite satisfying. I was beginning to enjoy my little escapade before I even started full blast.

“4c” was occupied by what looked like a mother and son combination that reminded me of “Psycho” with the terrible murder in the bathtub with a naked Janet Leigh screaming her lungs out. In this case, it sort of looked like the big strong middle-aged mom was more than capable of taking care of herself and that the skinny son with glasses was in need of medical attention to get him back on the road to recovery. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the skinny young guy climb up on the older woman’s lap to receive his “after dinner” allotment of spirited spanking with a mean-looking hair-brush. I had to laugh even though I knew it must really smart the way she was whaling his backside with the ugly thing.

I could tell he wasn’t objecting too much from the huge erection he was swinging around with a dick that looked like he had gotten a “first place finish” blue ribbon for cock excellence at the county fair. It looked like he was getting his revenge in the big lady’s bum the way he rode her down hard on the oversized sofa. Unless he was into incest, my guess was that they were not really mother and son.

Moving on to “4d”, I saw that there was a trio of office ladies in various stages of undress but that they all did their best to stay away from the windows with the shades not lowered so they must have been aware of how easy it was to view them from across the way. I noticed that the small petite one with the red hair liked to walk around with no knickers and that the other two only had the briefest of thongs to cover their plump behinds. I knew all the apartments were pretty small and I wondered how they managed bringing boyfriends home for a little fun in one of the tiny bedrooms. Later that night, I discovered their solution to that was to put their ears to the wall outside and listen to their room-mate getting fucked by a visiting male. It was probably their main source of entertainment since the television was showing nothing but re-runs.

I didn’t take time to check out the other two floors because I was fairly certain I would find similar little scenarios. I went into the bathroom and put on my special garter belt and black stockings for my little innocent show as I cleaned and dusted my well-lit living room with the shades all the way up accidently on purpose. I made certain that my almost bare flanks were bent over and presented close to the window on more than one occasion making my slit run with juices knowing that a number of my neighbors were probably feasting their eyes on my naked rump and my bobbing boobs as I vigorously rubbed the dust from all the corners and baseboards all around the room. I even stood on a chair and did the fan in the center of the room with a feather duster that tickled my skin wherever it touched. I figured that gave all three floors a good viewing angle on my private parts and turned off all the lights so I could rub out my passion on the top of the bed with my teddy bear underneath me in proper submissive position to soak up my juices.

The next night when I surveyed the audience across the way, I saw that there were several observers waiting for the evening show to begin and I hurried with my bath so as not to disappoint.

PART II

In all honesty, I have to admit I was not quite certain that my obsession with “Exhibitionist Nymphomania” was something that I continued because I loved doing it or if I just had to do it because I was hooked and couldn’t stop.

It was not like I was going out and sucking dicks all over the place with anyone that asked me nicely for blow job or bending over for some middle-aged perverts right out in an alley or in the middle of the park late at night.

My parents and friends never suspected how low I had fallen by putting on shows nightly with my naked body and my shades up after dark. I had also fallen into a nasty habit of watching my neighbors little tableaus of perversions best left to the imagination and not described in too much detail for fear of offending the more sensitive of readers looking for spicy content but not past a certain zone of comfort.

I was delighted to discover available employment as a store clerk at a popular clothing store that allowed the trying on of all purchases in the convenience of a number of private fitting rooms that were equipped with mirrors and padded seats to sit when trying on stockings or undies or clothing that might be quite tight as was the female fashion at that time.

I was often called upon to enter into the small space with one of the female clients for advice and assistance in donning the new items. Sometimes, I was even called to assist a gentleman with his purchase if the trouser length needed to be marked with the blue chalk to the correct length for his wanted cuff or non-cuff as so desired.

There was no doubt that I would blush quite shamefully when I was down on my knees in front of some middle-aged married man with my face only inches away from his bulging crotch overly stimulated by the thought of me opening my mouth and gobbling up his male equipment like some dodgy girl of the night behind the pub.

Many was the time that I would have to rub my wrist or the back of my hand on the gentleman’s hard shaft or his soft hanging sacs just to make certain the measurement was correctly done. I had trained carefully not to giggle or laugh at such awkward moments because I knew from experience most men hate females to be even slightly amused at viewing or touching their family jewels. It was almost as if the sound of giggles or laughter was derision of their manly impressiveness. I thought they might expect a well-behaved woman like me to applaud their size or beauty of presentation like one of those macho clods that constantly ogled a nubile female’s bum at every opportunity.

This past Friday was a good example.

I had scurried from my primary job which I hated with a passion to my new assignment as the “fitting room girl” and found the place buzzing with excitement due to the holiday sale that discounted the contents of the entire store to a level that attracted new customers from far and wide.

With twenty-four fitting rooms and only one other girl to help me, I was literally run ragged moving from one tiny space to the other to assist customers. It had gotten to a point that I didn’t have time to first ascertain if the customer was male or female. My internal feelings on the subject of which gender I preferred was one something that I had grown to accept and just hoped for the best and the love I needed so desperately.

I closed the door behind number nine and saw an older woman with a teenaged girl trying to squeeze her into a bathing suit that was obviously two sizes too small for her plump rounded figure. The mother was a skinny as a bean pole and I think she was so oblivious to the fact that her daughter outweighed her lean, petite frame that she couldn’t see the plain facts in the mirrors all around us. I immediately got the correct size and told the girl to “strip” and ran back in to dress her properly. It was quite satisfying to see her correctly attired at last and I sat down on the bench waiting for the cute mother to strip off all her clothes and try on some different bathing costumes as well. The daughter wandered outside to the soft easy chairs in the waiting area after redressing in her regular street clothes.

“Thank you so much for helping with my Maria.”

I smiled at the frazzled woman of about thirty and did my best not to stare at her perfectly formed breasts that would have filled my palms with sweet sensations of mammary delight. Then, when she turned to pull up the bikini bottoms, I was right on the spot to tuck her luscious cheeks into the skimpy fabric so that her neatly trimmed bush was completely under cover. 

I got the message that she wanted more of that from the way she patted the back of my hand that was still resting like sleeping cobra between her legs and slowly rubbing her delicate slit with increasing need to feel up a little bit more of mama’s fine pussy.

She yelled out the door to her daughter,

“Read the magazine, honey, the nice lady is taking care of your mother for a few minutes.”

Then, she went down on her knees in the small space surrounded with mirrors and I saw her reflection in the side mirror lifting my short skirt and placing her pretty face right on my bulging clitoris that needed attention in the worst possible way.

The mother’s face was busy on my clit and down into my vaginal opening sometimes even wandering back to my quivering rear door where the sins of my dirty thoughts were the most egregious.

It didn’t take long for her to bring me to an earth shattering orgasm and I immediately stood he up and got down in a similar manner to pay her back for her totally satisfying ministrations with my eager tongue that reveled in the taste of her sweet feminine mystery and made a point of pushing my wet saliva drenched licking tool straight up her tight sphincter and showing her I was no novice to pleasuring a pretty anus.

First, I gave her an anal orgasm and desperately hoped the daughter did not hear her mother’s cries of pleasure. Next, I turned her around and licked her tasty slit until she fell into a convulsive orgasm of a vaginal nature that far exceeded her first anal earthquake that smothered my nose and my mouth and made me enthusiastic to “go around the world” with her in the magic moment in the middle of the chaotic sale with fantastic bargains.

After that momentous interlude, I washed my hands and face in the ladies and hoped that none of the other females had any suspicions of what depraved acts I had just participated in behind a closed door.

All seemed safe and sound and I went back to work heading into booth number seven ready to do my utmost to make the sale a big success for the store.

There was an older gentleman in that little stall and he was quite perplexed at the difficulty in adjusting the unaltered trousers to try them on to make certain he had a good fit.

I quickly turned up the bottoms in a way that we had been instructed and got them ready for the alteration department to attend to swiftly even as he continued to shop for other necessities. We got it all squared away and I handed the trousers off to the other girl and she ran down to alterations to finish them off for him to take home in a package or wear them on his person. He showed me that his old trousers were quite unwearable due to a split seam in the rear that would have shown his white underwear to the entire world.

It was easy to convince him to wait in the fitting room whilst I procured a pack of men’s custom briefs that allowed him to place his “family jewels” into a customized pouch that held his shaft and his hanging sacs nice and safe and comfortable in a way that I was certain he would appreciate considering their size and age.

One of the things I was good at was in estimating a gent’s age because I generally separated males according to the minimum and maximum ages that I would consider for either “one-shot” copulation or long-term cohabitation like a boyfriend or a spouse.

On the lower end I usually treated all males sixteen or younger as off-limits because they had very little experience and I particularly enjoyed being instructed by a man with pussy-hunting skills to do all those things I enjoyed most of all but was afraid to reveal my disgusting urges for depravity.

At the other end of the spectrum, I had a sense that sixty was a good cut-off on male association because after that age, the male prostate tended to become a bit over burdened with health issues that made fornication a risky business.

This particular gentleman I estimated to be in his mid-seventies if he was a day and despite the impressive size of his masculine endowments, I just naturally assumed he might have a problem with taking care of business in the “is it in?” department.

When I bent over to pick up some hangers from the floor, I noticed in the mirror that his outstanding dick was up at a forty-five degree angle and that his eyes were centered on my heart-shaped bum with my tiny thong the only cover.

Since we were all alone and it would be at least ten minutes before the altered pants would be returned to us, I smiled over my should and back up until my posterior was firmly surrounded by his “old-man” thighs and his huge cock was firmly lodged in my ass crack with the authority of size and determination unable to be denied.

At that point, he slid into me quite easily because I was still in a high state of agitation from the petite mother with the cute breasts that had nipples that point straight up to the ceiling.

His cock moved slowly inside the rear end of my vagina.

That was a surprise to me because I had found that most elderly gentlemen tended to prefer an anal approach to strange females and I was delighted that he was more conventional in his needs and desires.

I must confess that at a point when he was only about halfway inside, I realized that this was the biggest shaft ever inserted into my tender trap and I started to flood my channels with my feminine stickiness like some schoolgirl learning about life from a tutor with no conscience.

The seventy-five year old man played me like a fish on a hook and eventually I surrendered completely to his will and just followed his lead until that blinding flash of orgasm swept over me and made me like putty in his capable hands.

After that I extended my upper range of possible carnal relations from sixty to seventy-six in order to make certain I wasn’t missing out on the fuck of a lifetime.